Chapter 1 — That Woman in Insadong

At least sex is something done with consent.

But my idea of"consent" isn't just mutual agreement—it's closer to a promise of authenticity.

Whenever I want to have sex with a woman, I always ask her, sincerely and directly:

"What do you think sex is?"

I avoid pathetic excuses or evasive lines like I want to sleep with you, I feel close to you, or I want us to get closer.

I simply ask about her view of sex. Because only when someone has a clear, grounded perspective on sex can it truly be enjoyable.

It's not important to me what kind of thoughts she has about sex—it's how she approaches it that matters.

At the very least, if I respect her, the sex becomes more pleasurable—and I, in turn, find pleasure in that respect.

I remember a woman I briefly met and slept with three years ago.

It was a chance encounter. I was just wandering through Insadong, and she was standing on a stone bench, leaning over to photograph her legs reflected in a puddle.

She looked so innocently absorbed that I stared at her for a long time.

After taking a few shots, she stepped down and went into a nearby oden stall, starting to eat.

I stood beside her.

At first, it was mere curiosity—but watching her lips wrap around the oden, I felt a sudden, sharp throb in my cock.

How to describe it?

She wasn't undressing, wasn't putting on any seductive act—but something electric tore through me, like needles pricking my nerves.

A jolt surged from my eyes straight to the tip of my cock.

My cock pulsed.

The oden she shoved into her mouth felt, in that moment, like my own cock being swallowed—and the sensation was strangely intoxicating.

When she ate her second piece, I caught her glancing at me sideways.

But after finishing another oden, she got up and left.

Watching her walk away, I felt no urge to follow.

Instead, I reached into the oden broth where her oden had been and pulled out another piece—pressed it to my lips and sucked it in.

Warmth spread through my belly. My cock stayed hard as I walked back into Insadong.

The faces of passersby, the clutter of odd antiques scattered around—

Then I stopped in front of a shop crammed with old relics.

Someone caught my eye.

There she was—crouched low, holding something in her hands, studying it closely.

I approached quietly, observing what she was looking at.

...A phallic stone.

Ah.

She was supporting the testicular end with her left hand, gripping the shaft with her right, turning it slowly, examining every detail.

Then she put it back and stood, letting out a soft"Hmm."

Her voice—low, not clear or bright, but solid, firm.

She turned and saw me.

Her lips twitched slightly—Oh, it's that guy.

As she passed me, she brushed against my body.

The space was wide. No reason for our shoulders to touch.

Feeling my gaze, she glanced back.

Got something to say?

Her eyes were full of curiosity.

I took one step toward her. She started walking again—light, quick steps, almost whispering to me as she moved.

Come on, follow me.

I followed her until we reached a traditional tea house.

She turned to face me.

"Got something to say?"

"..."

I nodded silently.

"Have a cup of tea?"

"..Yes."

She led the way, and I followed, watching her ass as we climbed the stairs.

Inside, the air was thick with incense. The decor—papered windows, traditional hanok elements—created an intimate, atmospheric space.

She took a seat by the window, staring at a fat, greasy pigeon perched on the glass.

Even after I sat across from her, she kept her eyes on the bird.

"Ready to order?"

"Chrysanthemum tea."

She answered curtly.

"I'll have apple tea."

She tapped the glass pane where the pigeon sat, her fingertip red. It must've hurt, but she kept tapping—awkward, or perhaps waiting for me to speak.

"I saw you taking photos earlier. I guess it stuck in my mind."

"You remember me?"

"Yeah. When something appeals to me, I remember it—like a person might remember a shop they liked, planning to come back. Maybe that's what first love is."

"...Could be. Or not."

She tapped the glass again.

"If you want the pigeon to fly away, hit the glass harder or wave your hand. Otherwise, let it rest with its full belly."

She looked at me.

"Full belly?"

"Those pigeons... they eat scraps all day. Their stomachs are always bloated. That's why they're called'chicken pigeons'... Let them rest. Otherwise, the bugs clinging to their bodies will keep sucking their blood."

Huh. From nowhere, a blunt, almost grotesque remark.

She smiled at me, sweetly.

"You always speak so directly?"

"I don't think I'm usually like that. But sometimes, I suppose I am. Depends on the moment."

"Like now?"

"Yeah. Especially with someone who sparks curiosity. Impulsively, or whatever."

"...You liked me?"

"Not'liked.' You're just memorable."

"Memorable to the eyes... Hmm."

She dipped her spoon into her chrysanthemum tea, lifting it slightly and letting a single drop fall.

"What do you do?"

"I'm a salaried worker."

"Thought so. Office job?"

"Well... you could say that. Just an ordinary designer."

"Really?"

Her eyes sparkled.

"I'm a design major too. Jewelry and precious metals. And you?"

...Sir... huh.

"Product design. And'sir' doesn't fit. Call me Daniel."

"Daniel-ssi. Do you like your office job, Daniel?"

"Sometimes. I do it because it's what I know. If I knew how to do something else, I'd be doing that."

"You're optimistic?"

"Relatively."

She took a sip of her tea.

"How old are you?"

"21."

"I see. I'm 28."

"So you're not a sir. Why are you in Insadong today, Daniel?"

"Just came because it came to mind. Felt like seeing something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Just that coming here makes me feel like I'll see something."

"Hmm~"

"Meeting you might fall into that category."

"...That's ridiculous."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"It might be extremely rude—or not. I'm not looking for anything beyond the question itself. Just give me an honest answer."

"Okay."

Concise.

"What do you think about sex?"

She stared at me, her lips parting slightly.

Then pressing together.

"Why?"

"I'm asking about your view on sex."

"That's what I'm asking—why?"

"Because I like you."

She touched her teacup.

"Sex? It's good. Doing it is good, not doing it is fine too. In the end, it's something good. Something like that?"

"You have a boyfriend?"

"Too much trouble..."

She made a face like a weary middle-aged woman who's seen it all.

"I just found you appealing.

So I thought, if you're okay with it, having sex might be nice. That's why I asked about your views first.

I didn't want to blurt it out and get called a pervert or offend you."

She looked me straight in the eye.

"Why do you want to?"

"...Because I like you."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a cigarette.

She lit it, took a long drag—the look of her lips was almost sticky. Her throat seemed dry; she pulled my apple tea toward her and took a sip.

"Ugh, this tastes sour."

Her face twisted—exactly like a woman's during violent, deep thrusting.

"I don't have any obsession with sex. I just enjoy it in my own way. No one interferes. But I don't feel like it today."

"Not in the mood today, or you don't want to with me?"

"Not in the mood today."

"Then what should I do to make you want to?"

"Take a photo with me."

I moved to sit beside her. She raised her digital camera, pressed her face against mine, and snapped a picture.

"This looks affectionate."

Then she linked arms with me.

"Am I being rude?"

"Maybe. Or maybe not. Why?"

"Isn't it strange to talk like this to someone you just met?"

"About sex?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm... I think maybe you sensed we'd connect. That's why you spoke up, right?"

"...Could be."

"Have you never said something like this to anyone before?"

"No."

"Has no one reacted like I did?"

"Well... most were like you. Similar. Even if they were offended, they weren't extremely upset.

Though, of course, I don't know what they were really thinking."

"Being direct, instead of dressing it up with flattery, sometimes feels... touching. No—easier to accept. Anyway, yeah."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Heh. I guess you don't realize how you come across, Daniel?"

"I don't overthink it. At least, I think I'm being polite."

"But even that could be rude."

"Could be."

"But at least it's more convincing than the shallow lines men usually use to hit on someone. If you're not purely malicious, you're showing some consideration for the woman."

"I suppose."

"If I'd said no, would you have kept trying to seduce me?"

"I wasn't trying to seduce. Just asking for your opinion."

"Exactly. That's why you seemed different."

"If you'd refused, I'd have walked away. Though I'd have regretted it deeply."

"Yeah. I felt that."

"But why did you come to Insadong?"

"Just... to take photos. When I take pictures here, things look... different. The colors, somehow?"

"Colors?"

"Yeah. And I'm Emma Lee. Sounds like a woman's name, right?"

"Emma-ssi."

"I was just walking, then sat on a bench. Suddenly, I noticed my legs stretched out on the street—they looked beautiful."

"Yeah. Your legs are beautiful."

"Right? And Insadong streets have this strange trace, like a mark... so they look different too."

"But you stood on the bench to take the shot."

"I sat first, then wanted to look like I was floating in midair. Want to see?"

She turned on her camera and showed me.

She'd balanced on the edge of the bench—her feet appeared to float in the air.

"Not bad. The angle's good."

"Right? I sometimes photograph my body. It's pretty."

"Emma-ssi, you have a natural beauty. You're not tall, but your figure is balanced. And you have just the right volume."

"Ha ha. C-cup. I usually only wear sports bras, but today I wore a regular one—felt like it'd be awkward otherwise."

"The curve of a 20-something woman's breasts is so soft."

"Wanna touch?"

"Of course. Even an 80-year-old grandpa would want to."

"Want me to let you?"

"Here?"

"Yeah. Move over a bit."

She slid over and sat beside me.

"Here."

She took my hand and placed it on her breast.

"Soft?"

"...No."

"Huh?"

"...I feel elasticity. A soft curve filled with firm energy."

"...Really?"

I pulled my hand back. She looked at my face.

"You good at sex?"

"I'm not bad."

"Really?"

"Well... my equipment isn't oversized..."

"That's not something to worry about, right?"

"Everyone says that, but... tighter fit is always better."

"Hmm. Really?"

"Why?"

She brought her lips close to my ear.

"To be honest... I don't like big ones. It hurts."

"Hurts?"

"Yeah. Maybe I'm just small... but big ones hurt. I don't like them."

That was unexpected—but possible.

"Then I guess I'm fine."

"Ha ha."

She picked up my apple tea and sipped.

"Where are you going next?"

"...Where should we go?"

"Nah, that's not how it works. You're supposed to just take me somewhere, right?"

"Better if it's convenient for you."

"Hmm."

She smiled at me.

"Wanna come to my place?"

"You live alone?"

"I live with a friend, but she's not home. She's on a date today."

"Is it okay?"

"Why not? Honestly, my room's the most comfortable."

We reached an agreement and headed to her one-room near Hongdae.

Her place seemed well-off—or maybe her friend's family was. It was a pretty large studio.

"My dad got this place as a studio and living space. Honestly, a design studio doesn't need to be that big. So I live here with my friend.

She helps with living expenses, and I get more pocket money."

She turned to me.

"Shower?"

She walked to the bathroom, stripping down to just her panties and bra. That's when I suddenly felt electricity surge from my scalp to my toes.

I stepped forward and grabbed Emma just as she was about to close the bathroom door.

"?..."

I stripped in front of her, then closed the door behind us.

She didn't speak during the shower. Or rather, she couldn't speak.

As I lathered soap onto her back, and she did the same to me, Emma suddenly took my cock into her mouth.

Soap dripped down, clinging to the corners of her lips. My hand touched her soapy shoulder.

She crouched, sucking my cock like she was peeing—nervous, unsteady at first. Then slowly, her pace picked up.

But soon she pulled back, closed her eyes, and started teasing my glans with her tongue—tasting it, like sampling a flavor.

Her left hand cupped my balls, her right gripped my shaft, and her pointed tongue tormented the slit of my glans.

Did she look like this when she was touching the phallic stone in Insadong?

As she alternated between licking and sucking my glans, I saw her lower one hand. To steady herself—or to touch herself.

She tasted my cock with her mouth while one hand explored her own pussy.

Was the situation stimulating?

I splashed water on her. Startled, I pulled her up, made her brace her hands on the tub's edge, and stood behind her.

I buried my face between her ass cheeks and started sucking her anus.

"Ah—hurk!"

She probably expected me to go for her pussy. She lifted her hips, spread her legs wide—but I chose her glistening anus instead.

Her back arched wildly as my sharp tongue plunged into her ass. I gripped her waist with both hands and pushed deeper, deeper into the crevice of her ass.

When she seemed exhausted, panting, I released one hand from her waist and slipped my thumb into her pussy.

It was slick—and incredibly tight, pulsing strongly around my thumb.

"Ah... gently..."

Could she feel pain even from just a thumb?

"Just... gently..."

Definitely tight. This was only the second time I'd felt such intense suction around a finger.

I kept sucking her anus for a long time.

Then I turned her around. She instinctively sat on the tub's edge and spread her legs.

"Huff... Daniel... too stimulating... slowly..."

I sat between her legs, bringing my face close. I felt her hands press on my head, waiting for my move.

But I didn't use my lips or tongue. I just breathed heavily right in front of her clitoris.

"Hmm... hmm... what are you doing?"

I started exhaling harder, my breath relentlessly hitting her clitoris.

"Hmm... hmm..."

I kept my tongue close—hovering, not quite touching—lightly brushing her clitoris.

Every time my tongue grazed her, her body twitched. Every time I pulled back and blew cold air, she shivered again.

After teasing her clitoris like this for a while, her hands started gripping tighter.

"Ah... hmm... ugh... ah..."

Each flick of my tongue made her jerk, each blast of cold air made her shiver—and each time, her grip grew stronger.

When her moans started rising in volume, I suddenly stopped.

Her breath slowed, nearly silent.

Then—without warning—I clamped my mouth over her pussy and sucked so hard my gums bled.

"Ah—ah—stop! Stop! Ah—ugh!"

Emma's screams echoed through the bathroom, ringing in my ears.

Her hands clutched my head wildly, rubbing, caressing—then my torso. I pulled her up.

Her damp body clung to mine. Holding her, I stepped out and laid her on the living room floor. I brought my tongue to her nipple.

Her nipples were fully erect from arousal. Her lips were dry.

I covered her mouth with mine, sucking her tongue.

Her tongue coiled around mine. With one hand, I rubbed and soothed her clitoris, caressing her pussy until it glistened even more.

"Stop... hurry..."

Emma pressed my head down.

I lifted my hips and brought my cock to her entrance.

Her hips lifted toward me.

I slowly rubbed the entrance of her pussy, then began pushing my cock in.

But it wasn't easy. Like piercing a tight plastic bag.

Finally, just the glans slipped in—then suddenly, my cock slid in roughly, tearing through a thin membrane.

"Ah—ah—ah—!"

Her scream rose with her hips. My cock was trapped, tightly wrapped by her narrow pussy.

No way...

Her pulse throbbed through my glans, through my cock.

"Hah... hah... ah... hmm..."

I moved slowly. The flesh of Emma's pussy clung to my cock like it was part of me, dragging with every motion.

So tight.

I kept moving slowly. With each thrust, her pussy flesh clung, pushed forward, then pulled back in.

After several strokes, I slightly twisted my hips, leaned to the side, and entered her at a slant to the left.

Her reaction was shocking. She grabbed her own breasts with one hand, pushed my chest with the other, writhing.

"Ah—ugh—ugh—ah... ah—ah—huh..."

Her intense movements forced me to speed up.

"Ah—ah—ah—I... I... I..."

I felt a violent pulse from her pussy—her walls squeezing my cock tighter.

And in her half-closed eyes, I saw white—her pupils rolling back. Orgasm. The first woman I'd ever seen reach climax this fast.

Had it only been twenty minutes? As her body calmed, I started moving again.

"Ah... ah... Daniel... Daniel..."

"Huff... what?"

"Ah... hmm... ah... cum... ah... when... ah... will you... cum...?"

"Hmm... ah... soon. Why?"

"Ah... ah... hmm... ah... I want to take it in my mouth."

At her words, I instantly reached orgasm. I sat up, straddled her chest, and shoved my cock into her mouth.

Emma sucked my cock fiercely, and with a rough groan, I came deep into her mouth.

"Ah—ah—ah—ah—ah—!!"

It felt like my soul was being sucked out through my cock.

"Really good..."

"Me too. I really don't like big ones."

"Phew... honestly... I feel like my body melted."

"...It was too good."

"Phew... what time is it?"

"Hmm. Four."

"Hmm. Want dinner?"

"It's still early. I think I'll sleep a bit."

"Really? Then I'll head out."

"Mm. Yeah. Go ahead."

I got dressed and stood at the entrance of her studio.

"Then rest. Honestly, today was the best."

"...You're not giving me your number?"

"Should I?"

"Heh. You said it was great—don't you want to do it again?"

"That's not up to me. It's up to you, Emma."

"Heh. Then how about this—I go to Insadong sometimes. If you think of me, come out. If we meet, we'll play again—just like today."

"...Will we?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. Then rest."

We laughed, and that was how we ended that night's sex. Not just pleasure or euphoria—but a clean, refreshing feeling.