Chapter 3 — Blinding Sunlight - 1 (3)

Daniel Lee and I met two or three times a week.

For me, seeing him—whether for sex or just conversation—was pure joy.

When we had sex, we burned like fire; when we talked, we were tender lovers, easy friends with no barriers between us.

The dullness of years had melted away like snow, and each day now brimmed with energy and delight.

They say a person's thoughts show on their face.

My family and those around me remarked how radiant and bright I looked lately.

Friends asked what good thing had happened. Some even whispered, “Got a man?”

One day, Hannah, my closest friend, dropped by the café.

She came often, but whenever we met, we always had endless things to talk about—gossip, memories, little dramas.

“Hey, you… Lately, your face is glowing.”

I wasn't sure if she said it because we were close, but inwardly, I was flustered, as if caught.

After Daniel Lee, I suppose I'd unknowingly started to look like a woman who desired men. Not just men—sex.

Whenever my period came and I couldn't have sex with Daniel Lee for about a week, I'd find myself craving him first.

And when we finally met, I'd go at him so fiercely that even Daniel Lee seemed overwhelmed.

Before, all men were strangers to me, irrelevant. Now, I began to notice them.

And this shift inside me must have shown on my face.

“You look much better than before. Your face has really improved…”

Truth was, since meeting Daniel Lee, I'd started paying more attention to my appearance.

Dating someone much younger made me self-conscious about what others might think.

Without realizing it, I'd begun taking extra care with my skincare and makeup, trying to look younger.

I even got Botox. Lately, I often caught customers staring at me in the café.

Ours was near office buildings, so we had many male patrons.

While women tended to go to big chains like Starbucks or Tom N Toms along the main road, our place attracted mostly men in their 30s and 40s.

Maybe because our prices were reasonable, or because we had a wide terrace—perfect for smokers.

I wasn't running the café to make money, so I didn't push sales, but it turned a modest profit—better than office work, someone once said.

One day, a familiar male customer came in. He was my second brother-in-law's friend.

I was close to my second brother-in-law.

Though my two brothers-in-law were only a year apart in age, I'd always been closer to the second.

He adored me too.

Now living in the U.S., we didn't meet often, but he treated my kids like his own.

This man—Peter Song, the vice president—had been at my sister-in-law's housewarming party once.

I didn't remember him at all, but one day, Peter Song walked into my café and greeted me like an old acquaintance.

He remembered my face from over a dozen years ago—impressive.

Peter Song was a vice president at a large affiliate company nearby.

He dropped by once or twice a month.

We'd exchange casual greetings—he was someone I knew, nothing more.

That day, he didn't come inside. He stayed on the terrace, taking a seat right away.

A guest came with coffee, and the two of them sat talking seriously.

I paid little mind and went about my usual routine.

Which wasn't much—mostly just hanging around.

I only helped during busy hours; otherwise, I sat reading.

Since meeting Daniel Lee, I'd wanted more freedom, so I'd hired another part-timer for the afternoons.

After a while, the two men stood up.

Peter Song walked into the café.

I smiled slightly and greeted him.

“Doing well?”

“Oh, yes. And you? How's the café?”

He smiled warmly back.

“Something serious going on?”

“No… just a quick work chat. But, Ms. Kim, are you free this Sunday?”

“Huh? Why suddenly ask about your schedule?”

I asked, puzzled by his sudden question.

“Oh, not me… I've got a golf game Sunday, but one guy backed out…”

“Oh… I see. But surely you could find someone else…”

“others might come, but I'd rather not mix work people. It'd be awkward.”

“I don't have other plans… If it's okay with you…”

Truth was, I'd grown tired of playing golf with clueless middle-aged women who barely knew the rules. The idea of playing with men again was oddly appealing.

“Great. Tee-off at 11. The course is OO in Yongin. I'll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay…”

I'd agreed almost without thinking.

Still, he was someone I knew, and the age gap meant no real pressure.

He had a good presence—successful, dignified, with a quiet charisma.

The next day, I got Peter Song's call, and we finalized the plans.

Sunday came. I declined his offer to pick me up and drove to the course myself.

One man was a university professor consulting for Peter Song's company; the other, a lawyer Peter Song seemed close to.

They played together often, it seemed.

All in their late forties to fifties, established in society, they were courteous and polished.

After golf, we had an early dinner.

Since we'd all driven, no one drank. We ate and parted ways.

The professor seemed genuinely disappointed and suggested booking the same group again soon.

Out of politeness, I agreed, then headed home.

As soon as I got in, Daniel Lee called.

“Grace, anyone at home?”

“No, I'm alone.”

“Then I'm coming over.”

Soon after, Daniel Lee arrived. We had sex, then lay together on the bed.

“What's up? Why suddenly come over?”

Truth was, we rarely had sex at my place.

Living in an apartment made me nervous.

Everyone assumed I lived alone—what if my moans leaked downstairs? Rumors would spread in no time.

So we usually went to motels to let loose.

And then there was my mom, who dropped by anytime with side dishes.

You never knew when she'd barge in.

“I just missed you…”

“Yeah, right… Something's up. What is it?”

“No… nothing…”

“Tell me. What?”

“I feel guilty toward you…”

I paused, then spoke again.

“I met my ex-girlfriend today.”

“Oh? Getting back together?”

“That's what it's about…”

“Good for you. Try again.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“Then you'll spend your life with me? You'll marry me anyway…”

I'd known Daniel Lee had an ex.

After sleeping together, I'd developed real feelings for him.

But I couldn't claim him as my man.

That would just be selfish…

“So you won't see me anymore?”

Daniel Lee asked, pouting.

“Hmm… If you don't like it, I won't see you…”

“Damn it… I'll keep seeing you no matter what. Even after I marry, I'll still see you…”

“We'll see about that later…”

It stung a little, but it was reality.

After sending Daniel Lee away, loneliness crept in.

He hadn't left me, but I realized how much I'd leaned on him.

After that, I kept meeting Daniel Lee once or twice a week at motels—and with even fiercer passion.

I naturally progressed to sucking his asshole during foreplay.

And before long, Daniel Lee started inserting a finger into my ass during sex.

At first, I thought it was just excitement, but his finger kept going deeper.

When he was really turned on, I barely noticed—but sometimes it hurt.

One day, Daniel Lee brought lube. I was naturally wet, so I wondered why.

He kept teasing me during sex until I reluctantly agreed.

He slathered lube on, and I lay facedown.

From behind, he slowly stretched me with his fingers.

Then carefully pushed his cock inside.

At first, it hurt badly. It barely went in.

After several tries, when his cock finally sank deep, I felt strange.

A mix of pain, a sensation like something might come out—and oddly, a feeling similar to being fucked in the pussy.

It was so tight that Daniel Lee couldn't last long. He pulled out and came on my ass.

He seemed genuinely sorry I'd been in pain.

After that, he never mentioned anal again.

When I asked if he'd liked it, I said, “Try it with your girlfriend.”

Weeks passed after playing golf with Peter Song.

He'd occasionally stop by the café, usually at lunch.

When he came alone, I'd sit and chat with him.

That day, I was sipping tea with him, sitting together.

“Ms. Kim… I've booked for this week. You free?”

We'd grown comfortable enough that Peter Song now spoke casually.

“Huh? Booked?”

“Yeah… the same group. They're all asking why you're not joining!”

“Oh, right. I guess I have to go. Hehe…”

“Yeah, I'll set it for this Saturday. Everyone says it's more fun since you joined. Haha…”

“Oh, come on… I'm just enjoying how polite everyone is.”

We made plans, and Saturday came.

This time, I agreed to ride with Peter Song.

He picked me up early—first tee time.

Riding together felt oddly intimate.

“Does your wife play golf?”

I tried to break the awkwardness.

“Nah… she's weak. Can't handle exercise. After one outing, she's down for three days…”

“Oh…”

At the course, meeting the two men felt easier than before.

Familiarity eased the tension, and we chatted freely during the round.

Afterward, we had a late lunch at a nearby restaurant and shared a light beer.

We agreed to properly drink next time and parted.

On the drive back with Peter Song, my body felt stiff.

“I'm so sore… Might go get a massage when I get home. Hehe…”

“Hmm… not a bad idea. I could use one too. Ms. Kim, if you're getting one, mind if I join?”

“Hehe… no way. The place I go is women-only. ^^”

“Women-only?”

“Yes. I have to strip completely…”

“Really? I'd love to try. Haha… But are there mixed ones?”

“There are… I've seen a few…”

“Really? Then let's go to one together.”

“Should we?”

I'd only ever been to women-only Korean massage parlors.

Soon, we entered Bundang and easily found a place—a mixed Thai massage parlor.

Inside, the decor was luxurious.

The female clerk showed us a price list—quite expensive.

After a brief chat, we chose Swedish aromatherapy massage.

Couples got a discount.

We followed the staff to a large room with two massage beds side by side.

“Please undress first. Put on these disposable underpants, wear the robe, shower, then come out.”

The staff turned off the lights and left. I felt awkward.

I'd assumed I'd just wear shorts or a T-shirt.

But it seemed I'd have to wear only a thin disposable panty.

I usually went fully nude at my usual place—but that was women-only, so no issue.

Reluctantly, I changed.

Thankfully, there was a partition. I went in first, stripped, put on the disposable panty and robe, and stepped out.

Peter Song came out in his robe.

Outside, the staff waited and guided us to the shower room.

Huh?

I was startled. It looked exactly like a nicely decorated motel bathroom.

A steam sauna was set up in one corner, a shower stall on the other, and a sink by the entrance.

Only difference from a motel? No toilet.

I was flustered, but there was no choice.

We entered the steam sauna first, as instructed.

Soon, the staff left, and we sat awkwardly together in the steam.

“The fog's thick—can't see much…”

Peter Song broke the silence, clearly uncomfortable.

I wondered what to do—but there was no way out.

At least the steam made it harder to see.

“I'll shower first… You wait a bit.”

“Okay… I'll turn my head.”

Peter Song reassured me.

I stepped out, hung my robe on the rack, took off my panty, placed it on the table, ignored his gaze, and entered the shower stall.

When I turned to wash my back, I saw Peter Song quickly look away.

Well, since it's like this… why not look? I thought, amused.

Does this old man still get hard? I wondered, deliberately bending over to wipe my legs, showing off.

I glanced sideways—Peter Song couldn't take his eyes off me.

After showering, I wrapped a large towel around myself and came out.

As I exited, Peter Song came out of the sauna, stripped, and entered the shower.

While drying, I caught sight of him in the mirror.

His cock was visibly hard. From a glance, it didn't look big.

Heh… still works, huh?

I put on my robe and followed the staff back to the room.

Soon, Peter Song came in, and we lay side by side for our massages.

After two hours, we felt refreshed, our bodies loose.

On the ride back, we were awkwardly silent for a while.

Finally, Peter Song spoke.

“It's getting late. Let's grab dinner…”

“No… I'd rather go home and rest.”

I said it deliberately. I didn't want to risk dinner and drinks leading to something.

I hadn't sorted out my feelings yet.

At home, alone, I thought—It was nothing, really. But curiosity stirred.

What's wrong with an older man? And who's to judge? Why not do what I want?

After all, Daniel Lee would be with his ex-girlfriend anyway…

Then came another Saturday. Daniel Lee didn't call. Said he was busy—probably with her.

Around evening, Peter Song came to the café. I asked why he was out on a Saturday—he said he'd come to the office for work.

“Ms. Kim… How about dinner tonight?”

“Sure…” I quickly tidied up, handed things to the staff, and left with Peter Song.

We left his car behind and took mine, following his directions.

It was a high-end Japanese restaurant.

We drank warm sake with sashimi and talked.

“Last time… when we went for the massage…”

“Hehe… I had no idea. I was so flustered.”

“Same here… But honestly, I was really turned on…”

“Really? Was my body that good? Hehe…”

“Hmm… Your body's incredible. First time in a year I got hard…”

“Oh… Really? You don't… with your wife?”

“My wife's in menopause, post-menopausal… We've slept separately for over a year.”

“Oh… I see…”

“I'm older now, tired… didn't think much about sex anymore. But seeing you last time… I got excited, my cock stood up…”

“Hehehe…”

“I thought… So I'm not dead yet!”

“What are you saying? You're still young.”

“yeah… guess I've still got some use left. That's why I haven't been fired from work yet. Haha…”

“Come on, drink up—Peter, cheer up!”

We clinked sake glasses, laughing.

After dinner, my face burned—partly from the hot sake.

When Peter Song suggested a second round, I agreed.

But it was the weekend—no driver came.

Looking around, I spotted a bar across the street.

We canceled the driver and went in.

“Welcome. Would you like somewhere quiet?”

They led us to a door beside the main hall.

Inside were several private rooms.

Just like the place Daniel Lee and I first went.

We ordered drinks and snacks, sat facing each other, and passed the cup back and forth.

After a song or two—soft, quiet ones—we naturally shifted to sit side by side.

“Having you next to me… I keep remembering last time. My cock keeps getting hard…”

“Oh, really? Let me see…”

I reached out and touched his crotch over his pants.

Peter Song flinched but stayed still.

Under the fabric, something hard throbbed, pushing against my hand.

“Wow… it's completely stiff. Hehe…”

“See? I told you… just thinking about you does it. Having you here—how could it not?”

Now he spoke casually too. So did I.

I stood, lifted my skirt, spread my legs, and climbed onto Peter Song.

I placed my hands on his shoulders and pressed my lower body against his.

I could feel his cock through his pants.

I rocked my hips slightly, feeling him.

Then I kissed him.

Peter Song, like a child, let me guide his body.

After the kiss, he pulled me tightly against him.

He unbuttoned my blouse, roughly pushed my bra aside, and pulled out my breasts.

He sucked my nipples, savoring them slowly.

I felt him beneath me, growing excited.

Soon, wetness seeped from me, soaking my panties.

I stood, took off my panties.

He unbuckled his belt, pulled down his pants and underwear to his knees.

His small, almost cute cock came into view.

I climbed back on top, took his cock in hand, and guided it into my pussy.

“Mmm…”

A moan slipped from him.

I moved my hips gently, back and forth.

I savored his cock, moving slowly.

Electric moments built one after another.

Soon, he began lifting his hips, matching my rhythm.

I stopped moving back and forth, lifted my hips, and started slamming up and down.

He didn't last long.

After just a few thrusts, he clutched me tightly, immobilizing me.

“Ahh…”

I felt his body go limp with a groan. Disappointing, yet thrilling and intense.

I stood, pulled out a tissue, wiped myself, and handed him one.

“Did I come too fast? I was so excited, couldn't hold back…”

“No… it was really good. Hehe…”

Even as he wiped and pulled up his pants, his cock stayed hard.

I put on my panties, fixed my skirt and blouse, and sat beside him again.

I took a sip of my drink.

Then kissed him, touching his cock—still rock-hard.

“Oh… still alive? Hehe… You said it doesn't stand, but that was a lie…”

“yeah… this thing won't go down even after coming. Hahaha… This kind of intense sex—first time for me! I couldn't last…”

And so, my first sex with Peter Song ended in less than five minutes.

But it wasn't like that afterward.

From our second time at a motel, he truly put effort into it, worshipping every inch of my body.

And I enjoyed sex that left me fully satisfied.

His claim of a limp cock? It seemed like anything but the truth.