18. Jjimjilbang 1 (3)
The sauna area is definitely drier and cooler than the changing room downstairs with the bath. It's perfect for wandering around in these ochre-colored short-sleeved shirts and shorts. Since it's still early, people dressed in the same ochre outfits are milling about here and there. Some are heading to the jjimjil rooms, while others, their clothes soaked with sweat, fan themselves and gulp down water. With no walls blocking the view, I can see far into the distance. In the middle of it all, where the TV blares noisily, I lean back against a pillar and sit comfortably on the floor. If I head to a corner, I might end up doing something reckless again.
Everything I've done so far has felt thrilling, sweet, and so damn good, but it was way too risky—no escape if I got caught. Still, there are plenty of other ways to feel that rush. I'm a pervert anyway, so isn't it better to enjoy the pleasure without going so far that it's dangerous, even if I look a little weird? ...I didn't plan on playing this aggressively, worrying about stuff like this. How did it come to this? But considering the impulse that keeps urging me to expose myself instead of hiding whenever danger looms, I have to grapple with these thoughts. I might really screw up big time. Sigh. From now on, even if I look strange to people around me, I won't do anything truly dangerous. No more spreading my legs naked outside. Instead, I'll play a bit more lewdly. The kind where anyone can tell I'm a pervert. Just enough to savor that electric thrill.
The lingering heat from earlier still smolders faintly inside me, warming my body pleasantly. It feels so good. Haa.... I let out a small sigh and stand up. Unlike the tight dolphin pants, the loose jjimjil clothes brush teasingly against my skin, tickling it. My nipples, now stiffly erect, rub against the rough fabric, sending waves of pleasure through me. I hook my fingers under the hem of my short-sleeved shirt and pull it out a little. The baggy fabric, which had loosely covered my body, now clings tightly, blatantly outlining my round breasts and emphasizing the sharp points at their tips, exposing them clearly to everyone.
I'm still standing right in the middle of the jjimjilbang, with people passing by and a family lying nearby watching TV, but I keep tugging it down. This is what feels good. That precarious thrill of not knowing if someone will see me or not. This is how I'll do it from now on.... Not too much, not too dangerously—just teetering on the edge. I slide my hand behind my waist and bunch up the hem in my fist. That way, I can pull it taut with just one hand. Will it look weird...? Wandering around like this alone might seem strange. Unavoidably, I turn my body away from the direction where people might pass.
With my figure fully outlined through the thin fabric, I walk slowly. Anyone right in front of me would think it's odd.... But there's no one right in front, so it's fine. Just that makes my heart pound. In the corner over there, there's a ball pit and small play equipment for kids, and right next to it, a bookshelf stuffed with comics. As I approach, I see no recent manga—just a few old ones scattered on the floor, their titles unfamiliar, published who-knows-when. They're so worn and tattered they might tear if I pick one up wrong. No wonder no one's here. The ochre rooms and snack bar on the other side are neat and tidy, but this spot feels neglected, like the staff rarely comes by—dirty and secluded. And that suits me just fine.
I lean against the wall between the bookshelf and the play equipment and sit down. I carefully lift my legs as I settle in. My heels scrape pleasantly against the cool stone floor. The net meant to keep balls from spilling out partially blocks my view, but I can still see people walking far off. They probably won't spot me easily like this. Air flows between my raised legs. From the front.... my thighs would be fully visible. My heart races. No one's right in front of me now, but in a space where anyone could show up any moment, I spread my legs a little wider. My soaked pussy parts, releasing an unmistakably lewd scent. It's embarrassing. But the thrill that it could be seen any second feels strangely satisfying.
Not in some separated, off-limits area, but in an open space anyone can enter—spreading my legs here feels so good. I want to show more, just a little more. I want to flaunt my body. With both hands, I pull my T-shirt up, fully exposing my bare breasts, nipples hard and jutting out. Sitting with my legs raised, it probably won't be visible from outside.... Still, I drape the shirt over my chest. Hua.... The outside air feels cool against my heated body. All that's shielding me from prying eyes is that flimsy net and my raised legs, and here I am with my tits out.... Feels so good. This immoral thrill is intoxicating. My heart beats faster and faster. My breath catches in my throat. I can feel my face flushing hot. It must be beet red. Embarrassing, shameful. I want to do more. This thrill is too good.
I lower my raised legs and kneel on my knees. My viewpoint rises, lifting my body with it. High enough now that my breasts are visible beyond the net. The only thing hiding them from view is that net. Will it cover up to my chest, not just my head? Will my pale skin stand out too much and give me away? No way to know. I just hope it works out. Since I'm watching everyone.... If someone turns their head, I can quickly pull my shirt down. No problem. Yeah, it's fine.... I keep my eyes fixed on the people wandering far off beyond the net. With my free hand, I subtly tug my pants down. Each little twist of my hips lets the loose elastic waistband slip lower, lower, powerlessly.
Soon, my pussy—meant to stay hidden—is completely exposed. Even if the ball pit hides it at this height, I know full well what's happening. Right now, in this open space with no walls, in a jjimjilbang I've never been to before, I'm baring my tits and pussy completely. If anyone over there a short distance away just turns their head, they could see all my skin—the bruises on my breasts, the black marker scrawls on my white flesh, every single one. And if they come closer, they'd get a full view of my pussy dripping obscene juices. The guilt of doing what I shouldn't keeps exciting my body. Like my pussy weeping tears of joy, I swallow dryly over and over. It's ridiculous how wet my thighs are without even touching myself. I have no idea what's wrong with my body. But it feels amazing.
As my hand sneaks toward my pussy without me realizing, someone enters my field of vision. A man in thin slippers, holding a red plastic basin and a mop. The moment I notice him, he spots me too and freezes. Busted. No way this flimsy net could hide my whole body. My skin color alone stands out—how could it? I hurriedly pull my T-shirt down and yank my pants up. I feel the dampness against my thighs, but that's not important right now. I'd forgotten the obvious: if I can see people, they can see me. Of course his eyes would be quicker than my hands pulling down the shirt.
The man approaches quickly, his tools clattering. W-what do I do? No way to run, nothing to say in my defense. Caught again. I almost got in huge trouble earlier, and now twice in one day.... While I'm panicking, he stands right in front of me in an instant.
"What are you doing?"
Gruff tone. He looks down at me in my awkward half-crouch with a tilted, annoyed glare. It's unmistakably the rude guy from the counter earlier. He doesn't just man the desk—he cleans too...?
"S-sorry...."
"Hah... This isn't the place for that. We get a lot of families, and plenty of guys too, obviously."
I tuck my hair behind my ear, trying to hide my face a bit. It doesn't cover the man in front of me. I'm embarrassed for a different reason now. There's no excitement or lust in his eyes at seeing a lewd girl—just exhaustion and disgust.
"People have all sorts of kinks, but you can't do that here."
I can't even lift my head. He clicks his tongue and continues.
"Go clean up."
Huh? I look up at him in surprise at the unexpectedly lenient tone. His face is smeared with fatigue. With a lazy jerk of his chin, he gestures toward the crowd, like it's too much effort to talk. He's just letting me go? No cops, no threats, no photos? Just like this? It's a golden opportunity. Chasing intense thrills by spreading naked outdoors is too risky after all—safer play, even if less extreme, really is the way to go. Even guys like this just let you off. I hurry past him. As I walk away, a faint mutter reaches my back.
"Fucking... pervert bitch...."
Even amid his contemptuous words, my body tightens with excitement in my lower belly.