Chapter 1 — Her Who Lives in Memories

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination. All characters are adults aged 18 or over.

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She had just started working in Seoul, while I was still attending university in the countryside. Because of the distance, we rarely got to see each other.

During the semester, she'd usually come down to visit me on weekends, and during breaks, I'd make the trip to see her whenever I could.

It was one cold winter, back when she was working at her first job, a small company in Majang-dong.

The company mainly handled local cable TV contracts, but the owner had decided to run a mobile phone sales counter on the side—something that made her early days at work especially grueling.

I don't remember exactly when, but during a phone conversation, she told me how exhausted she was and said she just wanted to be with me that night.

I wanted to be with her too, so I waited for her after work near her office, and naturally, we ended up spending the day—and night—together somewhere nearby.

I would've preferred a place with better amenities, but to make sure she could get to work easily the next morning, we settled on a motel near her office.

It wasn't much—just a shabby, cheap love motel—but what mattered was the moment she stepped out of the building after work, and our eyes met. With just a glance, we both knew instinctively: tonight, we'd crave each other like animals.

As soon as we got into the room, we shed our outer clothes and slipped under the covers, warming each other with our body heat. The air between us crackled with anticipation.

She was petite—around 155–157 cm—with a plump face and soft build. She always claimed to wear 80B, but looking back, her breasts were more like 80B to 85C.

Despite her frame, she had full, firm breasts that never sagged. Her 80B bras were always too small, the mounds spilling slightly over the cups—something that was visible even through her clothes. That subtle fullness only heightened her sexual allure.

That night, as I slowly undressed her, I cupped her breasts and began kissing them.

“Ah….”

Her soft moan was like a drug to me.

Her plump, perfectly shaped breasts quickly glistened with my saliva as my lips and tongue worked them.

“Grace… Do you like it?”

“Mmm… Yes… I like it….”

After lingering on her breasts for a while, I slid my hand beneath her panties.

She was already soaked for me. As I stroked her and slipped a finger inside, the sounds of her arousal filled the room.

“Hah… Ah… Haa….”

Every response she gave turned me on even more. I loved knowing I was satisfying her—maybe even more, I wanted to be the man she remembered as the best she'd ever had.

“Haa… Yes… Haaang….”

Each time I moved my fingers, her moans grew louder, and her arousal burned hotter.

Looking back now, I think we were both completely sex-crazed that night.

I later asked her, and she agreed—this was one of the best times we'd ever had. It was also the night we had the most sex in a single evening.

To be honest—and crude—both of us were in heat.

And when two animals in heat meet, there's no holding back. Maybe it was fate, maybe it was just perfect timing.

“Huhnn… Haa… Yes… Haa….”

“Ah… Yes….”

“Haang… Yes….”

“Grace. Let me taste you….”

Her touch was clumsy, but incredibly stimulating—impossible to resist.

She took me into her mouth, her tongue working wonders, sending electric jolts through my body.

Watching her give such a devoted effort, I suddenly felt guilty—her glistening, wet center looked so lonely.

I slipped a finger back in, gently massaging her to keep her engaged, but the urge to taste her became overwhelming.

“Slurp… Slurp….”

“Haa… I like it… I want to taste you too.”

“Embarrassing… Heh.”

“No, come here.”

At first, she'd been shy when I went down on her. But over time, it became natural—something we both expected, something we both craved.

That night, just like always, I settled between her legs, plunging my tongue deep inside.

“Huhnn… Aaah… Yes… Haa… Ah….”

“Haa… Slurp….”

I mercilessly worked her with my tongue and fingers, and she responded by taking me deeper into her mouth, refusing to let go.

But as I kept going, her body trembled uncontrollably, and she screamed out in ecstasy.

“Haa… Yes… I'm dying… Ahh… Aaang….”

My body, cradled in her warm mouth, craved more.

She, too, must have known that this position alone couldn't satisfy her rising desire.

Without a word, she instinctively climbed on top of me and guided me inside her soaked center.

We didn't need condoms. I wasn't huge, but I fit her perfectly. In that moment, burning with arousal, I just wanted to slide deep inside and ride her like we were racing to Hong Kong.

She followed her instincts. So did I.

“Huhnn… Huhnn… Yes… Huhnn… Haa….”

“Ah… You like it?”

“Mmm… Yes….”

“Me too… I like it too….”

When we had sex, I'd sometimes cum in three minutes from sheer excitement, or last an hour without coming. But whenever I asked if she liked it, she never once said no.

Was it kindness—her way of not discouraging me? Or did she truly enjoy being with me?

After she took me inside her, she started riding me, grinding her hips. I grabbed her bouncing breasts with both hands, teasing her nipples.

With every movement, I felt the tight walls of her center gripping me, and her moans grew louder.

Over time, her rhythm had become more skilled, more sensual—tonight felt like the peak of that evolution.

Her movements grew deeper, faster. I was so turned on that I felt the urge to cum in less than five minutes, so I slowed down to make the pleasure last longer.

We paused briefly, catching our breath. But our bodies never really stopped—still buried deep, still pulsing.

“Yes… Haa… You're mine… You're mine….”

“Haa… Yeah… I'll only ever be with you….”

“You can't do this with anyone else… Haa….”

“Why?”

“Huhnn… Because… you fit me best….”

And it was true. In bed, I was her perfect match. She was mine.

We were in perfect sexual harmony—our tastes, our rhythms, everything aligned.

Looking back, I still regret not keeping our promise to go ten rounds that night.

After a short rest, I flipped her and started thrusting again.

When we did it from behind, she would clamp down on me so tightly I'd almost cum instantly. And because I went deeper, she felt it more too.

That night was no different—her center devoured me mercilessly, gripping so hard I felt like I'd explode any second.

I held back my climax, thrusting harder, prolonging the pleasure. Her moans never stopped.

Instead of speeding up, I used my hips to drive all the way in, right to the base.

Every time I plunged deep, she cried out from the intense, electric sensation flooding her insides.

This position let me go deeper—giving her maximum stimulation.

“Yes… I like it….”

“I'll make it even better.”

“Huhnn… Yes… Harder… Aaang….”

During the day, she'd scold me for saying such things. But at night, she was different—she'd accept every dirty joke, every provocative line. She was the type who lost during the day but won at night.

In bed, she was honest about her desires, always begging for "deeper" and "more, let's go."

Maybe because we fit so well, she felt safe enough to be open, shameless, even.

After thrusting hard for a while, I reached the point where I couldn't hold back anymore.

I switched positions, climbing on top of her, but her body gave me no reprieve.

If anything, she was even more turned on now, moaning nonstop.

I stared at her, then drove into her again and again.

Feeling every fold, every ridge inside her, we both let go of reason, spiraling into pure, wild ecstasy.

We moved mindlessly, bodies drenched in sweat.

I was nearing my limit. We both preferred bareback sex and loved creampie, but tonight, I wanted to ask where she wanted me to cum.

“Haa… Grace… I can't hold it….”

“Huhnn… Me neither….”

“Where should I cum?”

“Huhnn… I don't know….”

“Inside?”

“No… Not yet… Outside… It's my first time….”

She played hard to get, teasing me about internal cumming—her specialty. We always danced this game.

When I'd say, “I want to cum inside,” and keep thrusting, she'd finally whisper, “Inside…,” and I'd release everything deep within her.

She loved it. After cumming, she'd keep riding me, milking every drop. But tonight, I decided to play along—just a little. The night was still long.

“Huuu… I'm cumming….”

“Huhnn… Yes….”

The second I said it, my semen surged to the tip, impossible to hold back.

Until the very last moment, I kept her legs spread in a V, resting on my shoulders, pounding into her. At the climax, I pulled out and shot my load onto her thick, soft belly.

So intense was the climax that my cum sprayed all the way up to her chest, soaking her stomach completely.

It felt incredible. We both collapsed onto the bed, gasping, our legs numb and weak.

After cleaning up with tissues, I helped her up—her legs still shaky—and took her to the bathroom to wash up.

Every time I touched her, she flinched slightly from the lingering sensitivity—adorable.

While taking a quick shower, I spotted a razor among the hygiene products and got a mischievous idea.

“Grace. Want me to shave you?”

“Huh? Where?”

“Here.”

I pointed with a sly grin, expecting her to shy away.

But she surprised me.

“If you do yours, I'll do mine. Hahaha.”

Later, she told me she'd said it because doing it alone felt embarrassing and unfair—but she never thought I'd actually go through with it.

But I'd always wanted to see her smooth, just like in films.

I sat her on the toilet and carefully began shaving her.

In the quiet room, I moved slowly, afraid of cutting her. Luckily, I finished without a single scratch.

Before me lay her bare, glistening center—completely hairless. I felt myself stiffen instantly.

She shaved me too. And right after we finished, we started another fierce round in the bathroom.

“Huhnn… Yes… It feels weird….”

“Why? Because it's shaved?”

“Mmm… So smooth… Haa… So dirty….”

“What? Hahaha.”

There was definitely a different, more intense sensation when our bare skin met—no hair in the way. Something about the direct contact made us even more aroused.

Maybe from the earlier exhaustion, the second round ended quicker than expected. But despite that, I came just as much as in the first round—maybe even more, turned on by the smooth, bare flesh.

We cleaned up and returned to the room, collapsing onto the bed.

We were tired, and the warm shower had relaxed us so much that we both fell asleep.

About an hour later, I woke up and looked at her. She was snoring softly—so cute.

I wondered if she looked at me the same way when I snored. I gently stroked her face, then got the urge to tease her while she slept.

Carefully, I grabbed her breasts and started licking them.

Her snoring slowly turned into soft moans.

“Huhnn… Huhnn… Yes… What are you doing…?”

Hearing her sleepy voice, my cock stirred again.

What kind of magic did this woman have? Just looking at her turned me on like this. I felt like she'd drain every last drop of energy from me tonight.

But I didn't have time to think about that. We locked lips, greedily swapping saliva.

She was getting wet again, and I was ready to dive back in.

The next day, she complained about being too tired to sleep at work—but that night became the one we both remembered as the best sex of our lives.