Chapter 1 — Dark Room (Lesbian Erotica)

"Sorry I'm late," a woman's voice says as the door opens.

Before my eyes, a beautiful woman undresses. She's in her mid-twenties, about 167 cm tall, with a slender frame.

Her hair falls midway between her shoulders and waist—darker than the night, lustrous and striking. Her face is the classic oval shape of a beauty.

Her eyes are of average size, the outer corners slightly downturned. Her irises are entirely black from a distance, though up close you can see hints of brown.

On her ears are heart-shaped earrings—one gold, the other silver.

Her lips glisten moistly in the light, slightly on the small side.

Her neckline is especially captivating. Once, when I told her how beautiful it was, she thanked me—and ever since, whenever I ask, she always shows it to me. And each time, my desire ignites. We fall into the depths of physical pleasure, lost in each other.

By now, she's taken off her blouse.

With delicate fingers, she slowly unzips the side of her skirt, then grasps it with both hands and pulls it down gently.

As the skirt slips down, black lace-patterned pantyhose come into view, hugging her lower abdomen—and for the first time, her underwear becomes visible.

Her panties are plain white, no pattern.

They're so small that about two centimeters of her pubic hair spills over the top. A small valley forms at the center, hinting at the shape beneath.

After removing the stockings, she pushes her hair—now fallen forward—back behind her ears.

She neatly folds her clothes and walks toward me.

Her legs are slender, graceful.

Her bra hugs her modest breasts, just high enough to leave the reddish tips of her nipples faintly visible.

I lie on the bed, watching her every move.

My penis has been erect for some time now, waiting eagerly for her touch.

She climbs onto the bed, wraps her arms around me, and kisses my ear.

"Should we shower first, or stay like this?" she whispers softly.

"Whatever you prefer."

"Then I'll shower. Wait for me. Today, I want you to look forward to it completely."

Her tongue slips into my mouth, dancing wildly, swirling fiercely inside.

I slide my hand down, stroking the soft hair between her legs through her damp panties.

It's awkward to move with her on top of me, but feeling her—this close—is effortless, overwhelming.

Her panties are already soaked.

She, too, moves her hand down, gently and carefully tracing my pubic hair and penis with her fingertips.

Then she stops, gets up, and heads into the shower.

James Park first met Emma Lee right after breaking up with his girlfriend.

He was drowning in loss, living recklessly.

Drinking every day. Sleeping with anyone, without thought.

That day, he'd gone to a love motel and called a call girl. This woman—the one now in the shower—was who showed up.

The moment he saw her, he felt beauty. And, strangely, love.

Or at least, something like love.

More accurately, perhaps, it was the kind of infatuation a schoolgirl might feel for a handsome singer.

Anyway, from the very first moment, he was captivated by her beauty. When her work ended, he begged her to keep seeing her.

She agreed without hesitation, and they've been together like this ever since.

Her shower finally ends.

It took a long time.

While she was in there, he smoked two cigarettes and drank three bottles of water from the fridge.

Her hair and pubic hair are damp, glistening with moisture—somehow even more beautiful now.

He gets off the bed and moves toward her, kissing her.

Each time they kiss, she satisfies him. And he, in turn, tries his best to satisfy her.

After the kiss, he lowers his body, licking her shoulders and neckline with his tongue.

Then he moves back up, gently biting her earlobe, breathing warm air into her ear.

She begins to moan.

He wraps his right arm around her neck, his left hand softly caressing her side as it trails downward.

When he reaches her hips, he slides further, beginning to massage her buttocks.

She, too, starts stroking his penis.

At first, her hand moves near his armpit, then slowly descends, lower and lower, until it reaches his pubic hair.

She strokes it a few times, then her fingers move toward his shaft.

He whispers "I love you" into her ear. She only smiles.

He lays her down on the bed.

He spreads her legs, taking in the sight of her pubic hair, her vagina, even her anus.

For a call girl, she's clean. Beautiful.

Is it because he's in love that everything about her seems beautiful now…?

Her pubic hair is neatly trimmed.

Her labia are just full enough to softly cover her most intimate parts.

Her anus is slightly darker in color.

He's never touched it himself, but she told him she's been using it more lately due to customer demands.

At first, it hurt terribly, she said. But now she's gotten used to it.

"Hurry. Stop staring."

"Okay. I will."

He parts her labia with his fingers.

Her inner flesh is red, exposed. He tastes it with his tongue.

That unique, intoxicating flavor—distinctly her—mixes with the clean scent of post-shower moisture, making it even more tender, more intimate on his tongue.

Her insides are always warm, wet.

The rougher he becomes, the rougher her moans grow.

He shifts positions, bringing his penis to her face.

She uses both hands and mouth to pleasure him, occasionally slipping a finger near her anus.

They keep at it, striving to satisfy each other, until soon, they both climax.

After it's over, he lights a cigarette.

"Quit smoking. If you want to live longer, I mean."

She scolds him, but gently.

"I'll think about it."

He replies shortly, then goes back to smoking.

She starts getting dressed.

Puts on her panties, then her bra, and begins wrapping her legs in stockings.

He watches only until that point, then turns his head toward the window.

"When will I see you again?"

"I don't know. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. Things change. I'm fully booked for the next week. I'll probably sleep with about twenty strangers by then. My body might not even hold up."

"You should quit."

"I can't. If you want me to stop, get a real job, propose properly. Then I'll consider it."

She says this, looking at him. By now, she's fully dressed.

Before leaving the room, she leaves him with one final line.

"You're a strange man."

Hearing that, he begins to cry.

And he keeps crying, through the night, until dawn breaks.