Chapter 1 — Her Choice - Part 1 (1)

Five years ago. That was when I'd just bought my first computer, driven by a fierce sense of purpose to learn something—anything—and followed around my junior colleague (David Yoon), who worked as the after-service manager at a local computer shop.

Back then, I'd just returned to my hometown after failing in Anyang, where I'd tried to make it in the music industry. My brother-in-law, who doubled as producer and manager, had gone bankrupt, leaving me jobless and adrift.

Around lunchtime, I'd head out to the shop and follow David Yoon until nine at night, learning whatever I could by watching over his shoulder.

And when I got home in the evening, I'd glue myself to that computer like my life depended on it.

David Yoon was twenty-five—small in stature but solidly built, a stubborn young man with an iron will. A graduate of a technical college, he was unmatched among local technicians when it came to computer hardware in our rural little town.

I couldn't talk down to him, not even a little. Compared to his expertise, I was nothing but a clueless beginner.

But outside of computers? David Yoon was like a puppy in front of me. As briefly mentioned, my own past was anything but ordinary.

The year I took the college entrance exam, my father passed away suddenly, and I dropped everything to work odd jobs—carpenter, steelworker, plasterer, singer at a nightclub, day laborer, part-time at KFC—until just before this moment, I'd even worked my way up from sales manager to executive at a nightclub.

My résumé had only gotten more colorful since then.

From academic affairs director at a regional university to head instructor at a security school—I'd truly lived by the creed that no job is beneath anyone.

Anyway, David Yoon was important to me back then, and I was important to him too.

But David Yoon had one persistent problem. A desperate, tearful longing: to finally relieve the sexual tension of being a twenty-five-year-old virgin.

I couldn't even imagine how hard that must've been, but David Yoon was exactly that—a pure, untouched young man.

He was so timid, a country boy who'd even run away in fear when friends offered to throw him a bachelor party before basic training.

He often came to me for advice about this, and since I'd taken so much from him already, I felt obligated to help him find a woman.

One day, he finally told me who he wanted.

She worked at the café next to his shop—behind the counter. She had innocent-looking eyes (though I later realized she had eyeliner tattooed at the corners), a sensual face, and a surprisingly well-shaped body.

Both David Yoon and I guessed she was in her early thirties. But in reality, she was ten years older than him—a single mother with a twelve-year-old daughter.

She'd gotten pregnant at seventeen. The father was a successful construction businessman from Daejeon, who opened a café for her when she turned twenty.

But her nature couldn't be tamed—she got caught seeing another man, and they split.

Her dream was simple: to own her own home and run her own café. But that dream had to be abandoned from the start.

Because I'd already set my sights on her.

Winning her over took longer than expected. David Yoon had to order tea from her more than three times a day, and if she wasn't the one serving it, he'd cancel the order.

He followed these rules with absolute discipline.

Even I treated her with nothing but gentlemanly respect—never cracking even the mildest joke.

She seemed to think working with computers was a prestigious job. Most people who don't understand computers think that way.

But being a computer technician? It's a starving job.

Low pay, endless work, and easy targets for complaints. You endure pitiful wages while sometimes having to double as a salesman just to survive.

At the time, I was a young man with gelled-up, flowing hair—wearing a ponytail rare in the countryside, ankle-length boots (I don't even know what they're called), and tight jeans that fit me perfectly.

Compared to David Yoon, who was stubborn and stiff, I was quite the contrast. But somehow, we both had our own unique presence.

Two months after first seeing her, we made our move.

David Yoon invited her—her name was Sarah—to have a drink after work, and she happily accepted.

They headed to the beach at Daecheon, and David Yoon proudly drove her there in the company van, its side emblazoned with the shop's logo.

The three of us drank at a seafood restaurant near Sin-gwang Plaza. Sarah got the most drunk, followed by David Yoon, then me.

To push her into David Yoon's arms, I had to play the villain.

I carried her into the cold seawater, holding her until the water reached her waist, then made her swallow just enough saltwater to nearly choke. She changed instantly.

On the way back, I was drunk and coming down with a cold, so I collapsed onto the unfolded back seat of the van and passed out. Up front, David Yoon and Sarah chatted quietly.

How long had passed? The car stopped. There was a quiet sway, then silence. I was left behind.

Not abandoned—no, they'd just gone off to a motel, leaving me behind.

My soaked clothes chilled me to the bone. Damn it. At least leave the keys.

But since everything had gone according to plan, I grumbled and looked around. Luckily, David Yoon had parked in the courtyard of a motel less than five minutes from my house.

I took a taxi home. The aftermath of Daecheon kept me bedridden for three days.

Once the fever broke, I staggered to the computer shop, clutching my throbbing head. David Yoon greeted me with a grin.

“Did you get home okay, Eric?”

Eric? That was the first time he'd ever called me that.

“I went to the inn. I needed a shower, right? She said she'd go first. I took off my clothes—soaked and cold—and asked for a towel.

When I handed it to her, I saw her swollen breasts. Oh my god.

I showered, then lay down beside her. Couldn't sleep at all.

Pretended to be asleep, turned over, and pulled her close. She stayed still—pretending to sleep too.

I hesitated, then scratched her back. She rolled over toward me.

The tip of my cock touched her ass. The sensation was incredible.

I didn't know what to do, but I wanted to see her face up close.

I couldn't believe her age. That she was a mother.

I tried to roll over her, climbing across her waist, but she suddenly lay flat on her back.

My cock slipped right into her slit. I pressed my hips forward—just a little—and it sank in completely. That's it.”

That was David Yoon's story. He'd only meant to roll over her to see her face, but she had positioned herself to receive him, and his cock had plunged in.

He claimed only the tip had entered—but he'd still come right then and there, like a goal scored from outside the box.

That night, David Yoon came three times—on her thighs and between her legs. And Sarah had to suppress three quiet scoffs at his eagerness.

After that, David Yoon changed day by day.

By mid-June, he'd ditched his cherished winter suit for white pants, swapping his stiff dress shoes for sporty sandals.

By July, his pride had reached new heights.

Sarah should've moved on by then, but she was still working at the café—a clear sign things were going well. When I visited the shop, I could feel the warmth in her tone when she spoke to David Yoon.

According to David Yoon, he was already “sending her off” two or three times a night.

When I asked her, she just blushed and smiled.

Two years later—was it last year?—David Yoon and I finally opened our own computer shop together.

We had big dreams—conquer every computer in this small town with my charm and his skills—but we lacked funds.

So we borrowed money from Sarah.

Widows' purses are always full of cash, after all.

We paid her back slowly, whenever we could.

David Yoon and Sarah were still going strong. Our friendship deepened—between David Yoon and me, between me and Sarah.

Then came that fateful day. That cursed day.

The three of us were heavily drunk.

We'd just lost a deal—two computers we'd delivered were returned, causing a loss.

And both our wives had picked ridiculous fights, souring our moods even more.

We drank ourselves senseless at an underground bar, then went up to a room we'd booked at a nearby inn.

“Eric! Just two more beers. I'll leave after five more.”

David Yoon ordered drinks at the front desk and went to shower.

Drunk and reckless, I said something I'd never have considered sober.

“Hey, Sarah. Don't you have any friends? I'm always the one left out.”

“You womanizer! You've got a girlfriend, don't you?”

“I don't have a girlfriend.”

“David Yoon says you're always with women.”

“They're just casual. Not girlfriends.”

“Casual or not, you've got more than David Yoon. He only has me.”

“David Yoon likes older women. I do too. Got a friend you can introduce me to?”

“My friends don't play around. They're all married.”

“Ah. Then that's perfect. I like older women who already have someone.”

“There's no one suitable for you.”

“Still, I helped you get together with David Yoon. You're glowing now. Shouldn't you return the favor?”

“Pfft. If you want it that bad, just do it with me.”

“Seriously?”

“You idiot. If I say it, do you think I'd really do it? She's my friend.”

“Then fine. What's the big deal?”

“I've heard from David Yoon—apparently yours is nothing compared to his?”

“Heh… well…”

“Then you should go to a cabaret or something. Or meet my café owner, Sarah.”

“Hey, that woman's a demon! They say if you go in, you come out hollow—sucked dry.”

“True. But do you have anything worth sucking?”

“Heh. I've only got my body.”

“She's beautiful, you know. And she's in her mid-forties—exactly your type.”

“Still… something about her rubs me the wrong way. I hate when women throw themselves at me.”

“Anyway, I don't know. I do know one friend who cheats, but I wouldn't introduce her to you. If she meets you, she'll definitely make you bleed.”

“Heh… me bleed? No way.”

“Just wait. I'll introduce you to one of the new girls at the café—someone decent.”

At the time, I had two women I casually slept with.

But neither truly satisfied me. More than anything, my fantasy then was to be with an older woman—just like David Yoon.

Our ordered beers arrived. If the middle-aged woman who brought them had been even slightly attractive, I might've flirted. But she wasn't.

Those five extra beers on top of what we'd already drunk left both David Yoon and me barely able to stand.

David Yoon collapsed where he sat and passed out. Sarah lay down beside him.

I lay a few feet away—enough space for four or five people—and fell asleep, overcome by exhaustion and alcohol.

I woke up thirsty. My mouth felt like I'd wandered through a desert.

Dawn light seeped through the window, dimly illuminating the room.

I opened the fridge and gulped down cold water. My churning stomach settled.

Looking around, I saw the silhouettes of David Yoon and Sarah in the pale light.

David Yoon was curled against the wall like a shrimp, lightly snoring.

Sarah lay flat on her back between us.

Her jeans must've been uncomfortable in her drunken state, because she'd kicked them off. She wore only white cotton panties.

Half of the blanket she'd kicked away covered her upper body, but in the faint morning light, her lower half glowed beautifully.

Her white cotton panties seemed to emit light, as if coated with fluorescent material.

The cold water had cooled my throat, but now my thirst returned.

Overwhelmed by a deep, unbearable craving, I opened the fridge again and grabbed the water bottle.

“Can I have some water too…?”

Sarah stirred, still lying down. As I moved toward her with the bottle, a rich, warm scent rose from her—sweet, with a hint of sweat.

Her legs were smoother than I'd imagined, faintly gleaming.

I handed her the bottle. She drank and handed it back, then buried her face in the pillow.

She turned toward David Yoon, her lover, and kicked off the thin blanket completely.

In the dawn light, the sight was perfect—her pale, stretched-out legs, her softly disheveled hips, and the bright white glow of her panties.

A moment of hesitation. A thirst that burned.

I took a sip, then placed the bottle beside her on the upper part of the bed.

I knew it already—approaching her would only deepen my thirst.

Lying behind her, I pulled my cock out from the fly of my underwear—already hard—and pressed it against her back while collecting my thoughts.

If David Yoon caught us, it would be over. But if he didn't… and if what Sarah had said earlier meant anything…

I committed one of the biggest foolish acts of my life.

I pushed one leg of her panties aside, hooking it over her hip, then slid myself between her thighs from behind.

“Mmm…”

A soft sound slipped from her lips. A warning? Or just a murmur in her sleep?

I slipped a hand between her buttocks. Slight dampness.

Not wet enough to push in confidently, but moist with overnight secretions.

Her pubic hair was thin, soft, and gently curled. David Yoon had shaved it months ago—she hadn't done it since.

Usually, short hair is stiff and prickly, but hers was incredibly fine and soft.

The texture filled my palm completely.

I thought it would be better if she rejected me now, rather than scream later, so I gently rubbed her slit.

Was she deeply asleep? Even if she were, touching such a sensitive spot should've made her tense up.

But there was no resistance. No flinch. No withdrawal.

Sarah's body—still as death. A green light flashed in my mind.

I soaked my fingers with saliva and slowly pushed them inside her.

A woman's slit, slick and warm, can never be truly peaceful.

My throat burned. I took another sip of water and continued.

In the silent room, my heart pounded.

My cold thigh pressed against her warm hip.

I've always been obsessed with holding a woman from behind on a freezing winter morning.

Right after waking, a woman's naked body is especially hot.

Her hips and belly feel like hugging a furnace.

I rubbed myself against her slit a few times, coating myself with my saliva, then slowly pushed in.

The head of my cock slipped inside, and I felt a soft pop.

A faint twitch ran through her shoulders and hips.

Slowly, carefully, I kept going deeper.

Like a tunnel digger painstakingly carving through rock, inch by inch, the tension was unbearable. My hand, pressed against her back, trembled, ready to cover her mouth at the slightest sound.

My heartbeat thundered past my shoulders, pounding in my ears.

I could hear my own pulse. Was I too tense? Didn't matter now.

Once I was fully inside, I gently woke her.

One arm locked tightly around her lower abdomen, pinning her in place. The other hand softly covered her mouth.

“Sarah.”

No response—neither from her body nor her lips.

“Still asleep?”

I loosened my arm around her waist, gently gripped her shoulder, and shook her. A slight reaction. I glanced back.

“Mmm… what?”

I quickly covered her mouth. A sudden ripple surged beneath me. Pleasure shot from my groin up my spine.

“It's me!”

At the sound of my whisper, her lower body twitched again. Silence.

“It's me. You know who?”

She nodded. I removed my hand from her mouth and pulled her shoulder toward me. She kept her head down, avoiding my gaze.

Another brief silence.

“Can I… do it?”

My whisper at her ear sounded deafening, echoing through the room.

I startled myself with my own voice.

“…Yes.”

An unexpected answer. Her voice carried the tightness of suppressed breath.

“Really?”

“Yes. Do it.”

The second confirmation came quickly.

I released her shoulder, moved my hand to her breast, and slightly lifted my chest from her back.

Giving myself more freedom, I began to move slowly, back and forth.

The slick, warm sensation wrapped around my entire body, tightening with every thrust.

“Hah!”

Startled by her own sound, Sarah jolted and covered her mouth with her own hands.