Chapter 5 — She Smells Like Peaches - Short Story Chapter 1 (5)

I knew it was morning by instinct.

Though the motel windows were sealed shut, a thin line of light crept through the cracks. And after more than twenty years of waking up, my body recognized the hour even without sunlight.

I found the clock. It was around eight.

It was a holiday, so there was no need to rush anywhere. I'd already lied my way out of obligations yesterday—no need to return early.

Morning came with a familiar weight, yet unfamiliar in its heaviness. And decisively unfamiliar was the sensation of my cock still inside her—something that sharpened my still-clearing mind.

Sarah Song's breathing was changing. From the sound of it, she was waking up too.

“Mmm… huh? Did we really sleep like this?”

Her voice, breathy and close to my ear, sent a shiver down my spine.

“Yeah. When did you wake up?”

“Since it started pushing deeper.”

“Feels different.”

“Mmm… me too. You weren't heavy at all?”

How could she not be heavy? It was my first time, technically. During sex it was fine, but sleeping with someone's full weight on me left my limbs aching.

“It's different when you're inside her and when you fall asleep like this. Heh. But… the feeling is really good.”

“Must've been tough. Should I get off?”

“No. If it feels good, then it's good. Don't get off.”

I gripped her waist and hips, shifting slightly to ease the stiffness in my body. Sarah Song let out a soft moan.

“Huh… are you sure it's okay?”

“If it weren't, I'd make you get off. You don't have to keep asking.”

“Hmm… okay.”

It really did feel good.

The sight of her face still buried, too shy to look up after the night's drinking, the warmth of her body pressed against mine, the heat around my cock pulsing with her muscles—it all screamed loud enough to silence any doubt.

“Can we stay like this a little longer?”

“Haha… yeah. You can do whatever you want. I'm fine with it.”

“Morning sex?”

“Hmm… never tried that before.”

I shifted, spreading her legs, gripping her hips, and began a steady piston motion.

No foreplay, no teasing—just raw movement. But the novelty excited her. Soon, the wet, slapping sounds echoed through the dark room.

We'd already gone several rounds through the night, but her body responded again. After her second climax, I came too. My cock didn't shrink much, still buried inside her as we enjoyed the afterglow before heading to the shower together.

We could've kept going, but I didn't want to spend the whole morning rolling around in a motel room. We left just after ten.

It was a holiday, and neither of us had plans, so we had lunch, watched a movie, and parted ways.

[Had fun. I'll text you again.]

Her message, complete with a drawn heart, and the pleasant soreness between my legs proved the past few hours hadn't been a dream.

After Sarah Song left and I was alone again, I wondered—what exactly was this between us?

Were we dating? It felt too soon. Too many milestones had passed in too short a time.

We'd had sex before even kissing. From the second night, we craved each other's warmth like lovers who'd been together for years.

I didn't want to overthink it, but I wasn't the type to just let things slide.

I expected her to text the next day. A week passed—no call, no message. I hesitated for a moment, then texted first.

[Why haven't you contacted me?]

Almost an hour passed before she replied.

[Can I see you today?]

[Where?]

[I liked that park last time, but I don't remember where it is.]

[Meet in front of OO City Hall. What time?]

Back then, we couldn't convey emotions through text like we can now—everything was short, clipped.

I sensed something off in her tone, but then her reply came.

[I'm leaving now. You can come out quickly, right?]

[Yeah.]

[I'll be there in twenty or thirty minutes.]

I'd always told myself not to believe a woman who says she'll be ready in twenty minutes. But a promise is a promise, so I left about twenty minutes later.

surprisingly, she was already there.

“You didn't wait long?”

“No. I just got here.”

“You don't look well. Are you sick?”

“… Let's drink?”

“What happened?”

“Let's go to a motel and eat?”

“Won't the snacks be cold?”

“We'll grab something quick.”

I had no idea what was going on, but I bought oden with broth, tteokbokki, some fried food, and soju and beer, then led us to a different motel than last time.

The place was brighter and nicer than the last one.

“… It's nice.”

Sarah Song's indifferent tone made me roll my eyes. I laid out the food and poured her a few drinks first.

“… Phew.”

“What happened?”

“I feel like a crazy bitch.”

“What? Why?”

“I came home after hanging out with you and drank a bit more. Drunk, I sent a few texts to that guy—told him I'd found a better man, thanked him for breaking up with me.

But he said I should be grateful he dumped me—called me a frigid, boring lay. Said I'd never find anyone better. Called me pathetic for jumping on you so fast.”

I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. I gave a faint smile.

“Don't laugh!! I'm serious!!”

“Okay! I get it!”

“He replied…”

Sarah Song handed me her phone.

I took it, reading the messages myself.

There was a contact named `asshole`. Most of the recent texts were insults.

Whore.
You'll never forget me.
You think you can forget a man who fucked both your holes?
Your pussy’s already twitching for another cock, isn’t it?

“Hah. What a piece of trash.”

My face flushed red. Sarah Song watched me, then suddenly started to cry.

“When I got these messages, my body started shaking. I was so angry I wanted to kill him. But then… I remembered the things he said. The way he made me feel.

I started wondering if I really was a slut. If I'd become obsessed with sex…”

I let her cry. If she needed to cry, I'd let her.

She sobbed for another twenty minutes while I silently emptied my glass.

“Aren't you going to comfort me? Do you think the same thing?”

“Show me your ID. Are you really older than me? Or are you just an idiot regardless of age?”

“What are you talking about?”

“He dumped you, right? Went off with some other girl—someone prettier, more popular. Then why is he acting like this? If he's doing so well, why bother replying at all?”

Sarah Song stared at me, stunned, like she'd been slapped.

“If he were really happy, he wouldn't have replied at all. This is classic 'the grass is greener' bullshit. He's bitter, insecure—acting out.”

“You… really think so?”

I explained it all. Coincidentally, something similar had happened to me that week—partly why I'd been eager to see her, and partly why I'd been angry.

I told her what I'd gone through and what I'd found out.

“No way, really?”

“Yeah. Turns out the girl he left me for was nothing special. He told his friends she wasn't even as good as me. Said he regretted it.”

“No kidding. Huh. That's why he said those things.”

Four days ago, I'd run into her—by what seemed like chance.

She'd casually mentioned she'd broken up with the guy she'd left me for.

She'd forced it into the conversation—'by the way'—just to make sure I knew she was the one who'd dumped him.

Hearing it, I felt a flicker of satisfaction. I wondered if it was true.

I'd spent two days digging through contacts and found out—she'd been disappointed in him, broken up with him, and deeply regretted leaving me.

But my heart was already closed. I didn't even feel like telling her I no longer cared.

“You're an idiot too. When a woman says something like that, don't you get it? She's single again, she dumped him—she wants to try again with you.”

This was exactly the reaction I'd hoped to provoke.

“What about you?”

She stammered, her smile gone.

“Hey, Sarah Song! Other people's stories might be ordinary, but mine's special? Come on. It's all the same.”

“… Still…”

“Argue if you want. But if your ex was such a freak, there are only two possibilities—either the girl was a prude with the body of a tofu, or she was so uptight she refused everything you tried?”

Sarah Song's expression brightened. She'd caught a thread. Wanting to give her space to think, I made an excuse.

“I'm out of cigarettes. We're almost out of booze too. I'll run out. Think it over.”

I stopped by the convenience store, bought more cigarettes, more alcohol—and lube.

When I returned, Sarah Song's face was noticeably brighter.

“I think… yeah, I think you're right. What you said makes sense.”

“Find something out?”

“No… not exactly. But I caught on to something.”

“Tell me later. Let's drink first.”

I didn't show her the lube. No need to use it, and I didn't want to push it on a woman still healing.

After a couple more shots, her words started to slur.

“Ah… I'm drunk. Sorry. I guess the tension's gone.”

“Hey! Stop drinking!”

“I feel good. Just one more bottle.”

“You're completely drunk already.”

“So what? I don't have to go home… hic!”

“Ugh. Just go lie down over there.”

She wobbled toward the bed. Only then did I really look at her outfit—she'd clearly rushed out. Pink sweatpants, a plain white tee, a sweatshirt, and a light jacket.

She took off the jacket, then the sweatshirt. Underneath, just a simple white tee and tight sweatpants that clung to her curves.

But as she staggered and fell onto the bed, I had no urge to take advantage.

I tidied up the mess, then headed to the bathroom for a cigarette.

“Where are you going?”

“What do you think? Cleaning up, then a smoke.”

“You're leaving me like this? If I smell smoke on your breath, I won't kiss you!”

“Ah! Damn! Right!”

“Typical old man—only found in family arcades, huh?”

Sarah Song adjusted herself coquettishly. I noticed the crotch of her dark sweatpants was darker than before—wet.

Was she…? A mischievous thought crept in.

Then she called out, teasingly.

“Mmm…”

I don't know where the courage came from—maybe the alcohol, maybe her.

I climbed on top of her, one hand groping her breast, the other rubbing her pussy over her clothes.

The dampness under my fingers was unmistakable.

“Why are you so wet? Do you want it? Is that why you're wet?”

“Huh… hah… mmm…”

Her face flushed. My hand moved faster. But I stopped there.

I wasn't the type to be rough or cruel to women.

Seeing more arousal seep through, I pulled down her pants. Her white panties—worn under the matching set—were soaked, her pubic hair clearly visible through the fabric.

“You're really wet!”

“Mmm… been a little… since earlier…”

“Did you call me here because you wanted sex? Or to talk?”

“Hah… hah… both…”

A few of the vulgar messages flashed in my mind, but I pushed them away.

I was already hard. I quickly stripped her, then myself—no foreplay, no condom—and thrust inside.

Sarah Song started trembling. She seemed even more turned on than before.

“Hah… you really wanted this, didn't you?”

“Mmm… yeah…”

We rode the wave of arousal, switching positions—front, back, sitting, standing, lifting her up, laying her down.

Her long hair became a mess, our sweat mingling until we couldn't tell whose was whose. I came inside her.

“Ah!”

“Ah…”

Still catching my breath, Sarah Song suddenly pushed me away—and took my cock into her mouth.

“That's dirty.”

“It's yours, and it's covered in my fluids. What's dirty about it?”

It hit me like a punch to the gut.

I later learned that giving oral after sex was called “riding the Blue Dragon train”—but I'd already experienced the reason why.

“Ah!”

“Wow. Look at it getting hard again.”

“You're the one who stimulated it…”

“You think you can go again?”

“You want to?”

Her speech had cleared—sex had sobered her up quite a bit.

“Tch. Why wouldn't I? Should I just leave it up?”

“Fine. Let's do it!”

I quickly moved from her mouth to her pussy, wrapped her legs around my waist, and stood up.

“Oh!”

I pumped a few times, then walked over to the water dispenser for a drink.

“Hah… aren't you thirsty?”

“Mmm… give it to me with your mouth.”

Our lips met, tongues danced. The second round ended even more intensely than the first.

We collapsed, exhausted. Sarah Song lay on her side, playing with my nipple. I massaged her breast.

“Won't you suck it again?”

“Why? Want more?”

“No… I might want to later, but… it just felt really good earlier.”

“Let's save some for later.”

“Okay.”

We stayed silent, touching each other. Sarah Song looked like she wanted to say something.

“If there's something you want to say, just say it.”

“… Nothing.”

“You want me to torment this again?”

I flicked her nipple. She flinched.

“Mmm! Don't!”

I flicked it again, teasing.

“Tell me…”

“Mmm… it's something you won't like…”

I stopped.

“About your ex?”

“Mmm…”

Still trembling from the nipple play, I sat her up.

“Emma Kim! Let's do something—just for today. Let's remember every ex, every past lover. Then forget them forever!”

“Huh?”

“Whatever you want to say, whatever I want to say—we'll talk about it. Honestly, I've been thinking of my ex while looking at you.

But let's talk about our pasts, about sex, then leave it all behind.”

“… Okay!”

“We need more alcohol for this?”

“A little.”

I pulled out the leftover beer and soju from the fridge.

We put on the motel robes—nothing underneath—and sat back at the table.

Cold oden and broth became our snacks as the stories began.

“My ex never held me like you did after sex. Do you know sex toys? He'd use them to stimulate me everywhere, enjoy my suffering.

He'd put an egg—like a vibrating egg—inside me, or a vibrating dildo, and wouldn't let me rest for hours.”

“Ah… hahaha! I'm laughing because of my ex! I told you my ex smelled like peaches.

My ex had C-cup breasts, but inverted nipples. I had to suck hard just to get them out.

Touching them like you did earlier? Never happened.”

“Oh my god! Hahaha!”

“My ex loved watching me masturbate. After a few times, he said he had a sex fantasy.

Then he pulled out sex toys, weird lingerie, and drugs.”

“Drugs?”

“Yeah. Laxatives.”

“Ah…”

“I've been fucked in the ass too. I gave both my virginities to him—front and back.”

“He was your first?”

“Yeah. Just like you.”

“… I think he was really good. I haven't slept with many women, so I can't compare, but…”

“After breaking up, I got drunk like you and picked up two others—just one night each. But neither was as good as him. Or you.”

“Wait—my ex, I don't know if I was her first. I think verifying virginity by bleeding is stupid, so I didn't care. The first night we had sex, we did it seven times. She could barely walk the next day.”

“No way, seven times?”

“Yeah.”

“You're not a rabbit.”

“Almost didn't sleep at all.”

“Sleeping with you is kind of boring.”

“Really?”

“Whether virgin or not, seven times in one night is excessive. You're not finishing in ten minutes, are you?”

“We did more than five or six times last time.”

“Hah. Do you have any idea how much I suffered? Hahaha.”

“What? Did it hurt?”

“You can't take a joke?! My ass and pussy were sore, but it was good. I thought you were amazing.”

“Now that we're talking… I don't have much to say.”

“Same.”

A silence fell. Through the gap in her robe, Sarah Song's body glowed.

“David Kim!”

“Huh?”

“Ah… never mind.”

“You want me to torment you again?”

“I told you, no…”

“I'm getting up.”

I started to rise. Sarah Song waved her hands.

“Fine. Okay.”

“Hey… do you have any sex fantasies? Like, wanting to do something specific to a woman, or trying a certain kind of sex?”

“Hmm? You seem to have more than I do.”

“To be honest… what you did last time…”

Her face turned red.

“What? Sleeping with me inside you?”

“… that, and massages, or having sex in the bathtub while drinking beer.

He'd go soft immediately after, so he never even dreamed of staying inside like that.

I once hired a male masseur—he tried to convince me to sleep with him afterward.

I refused, and we broke up.

He said the bathtub was too hard, but kept tormenting me anyway. You didn't do that, so… at least half of my sex fantasies have been fulfilled.”

“Ah…”

“What about you? Nothing?”

“Hmm… I've never really thought deeply. Aren't most men similar?”

“What? Like tormenting?”

“No… I mean, isn't it similar?”

I grabbed my hair.

“What? You want to do something with your hair?”

“No…”

She didn't understand. I pulled aside my robe and grabbed my pubic hair.

“This.”

“What about it?”

“I want to shave it.”

“Huh?”

“Bald pussy.”

“That's interesting? He used to say I was unlucky because my hair was thin—said sleeping with a hairless woman brings three years of bad luck.”

“That's what idiots say. When I'm going down on you, I keep getting hair stuck in my teeth…”

“Hahaha! That's your reason?”

“It's not just that. I've always wanted to see a hairless one, and feel what it's like. Just… you know.”

“Hmm…”

Sarah Song looked thoughtful.

“What are you thinking? I said I'd do it.”

“Whatever, hair grows back! Just do it!”

“Wow. You're bold when it counts.”

“… but… um… but…”

“What?”

“You do it for me!”

“Whoa.”

I didn't have a clear fantasy. I'd just hated how my ex's pubic hair got stuck in my teeth. I thought shaved would be smoother, and I wanted to do it myself.

“Can I really trust you with this?”

“You have to be careful…”

“I know.”

I felt my cock grow heavy. I remembered the shaving kit I'd picked up when we checked in.

“What'll you use?”

“There's a razor here.”

“What? You planned this?”

Sarah Song playfully glared at me. I grabbed the razor, removed her robe, stared meaningfully at her pubic hair, then took her hand and led her to the bathroom.

No shaving gel for women. Even if there was, I only knew men's products.

“It'd be better if there was women's shaving gel.”

I lathered soap into a thick foam. Sarah Song said,

“Do women have their own?”

“Aren't armpits and leg hair different? Women have their own razors too. That one looks terrifying. Hahaha.”

“Ah, right. I've never seen my older sister use one.”

I remembered barbershops from childhood. I soaked a towel in warm water and placed it gently on her pussy.

“Ah… warm.”

“Good?”

“Yeah!”

“Should we skip shaving and just stay like this?”

“How long do we stay?”

“From what I remember, about five minutes. It looked much hotter than this.”

“Then I'll stay that long.”

Sarah Song tilted her head back, eyes closed.

“It feels… nice.”

I spread the foam and began shaving her pussy as slowly and carefully as I could.

Now it's common, but back then, porn with shaved pussies was rare. Later, I'd learn that shaving pubic hair was sometimes seen as a sign of STDs.

And quietly, among women, a shaved pussy could earn side-eye—seen as slutty or promiscuous.

Halfway through, my neck prickled. I looked up. Sarah Song was watching me—intently—as I shaved her.

“What are you staring at?”

“Are you always this diligent?”

“What do you mean?”

“It's just… you seem so serious. With sex, with massages, with this…”

“Don't talk. I might cut you.”

I was sweating—not from effort, but from the tension of shaving another person's most intimate area for the first time.

I was nervous, but her pussy kept getting wetter.

“It keeps getting wet here…”

“Hmm. You're touching it and breathing on it. Of course it's wet.”

“Oh. Right!”

Sweat, time, and arousal mixed. Finally, I shaved her pussy, perineum, and even her asshole.

Her skin wasn't pale, nor very dark—just a natural, warm Asian tone. And she looked even more beautiful.

“Wait. Let me rinse off the soap.”

I turned on the water, adjusted the temperature, and gently cleaned her.

The act turned into foreplay, but with soap and foam, I didn't want to go further here.

After drying her, I finished with the oil I'd bought earlier.

“When did you buy this?”

“When I went for more cigarettes and booze. I thought I might need to give a massage.”

“You didn't even use the last one.”

“I'll bring it next time if you want a massage.”

“Huh? Am I your masseuse now?”

Massaging her pussy, perineum, and anus with oil while giving her a sensual massage—clearly, calling myself not a masseuse was a joke.

And Sarah Song caught it.

“… what is this now?”

“Haha. Yeah, you got me.”

In the warm, intimate air, Sarah Song's breath grew hotter.

Under the bright light, my cock—staring at her freshly shaved pussy—was seconds from exploding.