Chapter 2 — Yuna's Diary - 1 (2)

I'll call him A.

A called me. He told me to come out to the same meeting spot from last time at nine.

I agreed and hung up, but my mind was in chaos.

There was something indescribable about him—an irresistible charisma that radiated from A.

"Just come out after dinner, slowly," he had said. I suspected he was summoning me merely for his own pleasure.

That thought left me with an uneasy, unsettled feeling.

For a moment, I considered not going. But then the memory of our previous encounter—how it had ended without incident—pushed me forward, as if nudging me from behind.

I took a shower, put on makeup, and dressed.

Ordinary underwear, jeans. I went out looking unadorned, natural.

I arrived at the meeting place around 9:10. He was already there.

The moment he saw me, he ushered me into his car and sped straight to a love motel.

Resisting didn\'t even cross my mind—it wouldn\'t have made sense.

To resist someone who hadn\'t forced me, who I had willingly come to meet—that would\'ve been absurd. My mind searched desperately for excuses, for reasons to blame him, but every accusation I formed turned back toward myself.

Sex began without any foreplay, and of course, it wasn\'t pleasant.

Starting while completely unaroused, it was painful.

I hadn\'t even realized how badly I needed proper touching, caressing—something to awaken my body.

But as time passed, sensation dulled. I started growing numb, accustomed.

He didn\'t last long before ejaculating.

I lay there, limp and empty.

This isn\'t right, I thought.

He wiped himself with a tissue and then lay down beside me.

A long, slow exhale escaped him.

We avoided each other\'s eyes for a while.

Ten minutes? Twenty?

I simply stayed in his arms.

“Shall we start properly now?”

Eventually, he spoke, and we headed to the bathroom.

Under the falling stream of water, he washed my body; I washed his.

We lathered soap over each other\'s skin.

He sat me on the edge of the bathtub and began washing me from my toes upward.

Slowly, methodically, he moved higher.

By the time his hands reached my thighs, my body had begun to respond, readying itself.

His hand slid up my waist, grazing past my breasts, and my breathing grew heavier.

After finishing my shoulders and neck, his soapy hands trailed down my back again.

Then they came forward, passing through my pubic hair, returning to wash between my legs.

I arched my hips forward to help him, but he didn\'t seem satisfied.

He made me grip the toilet seat and bend over.

I obeyed—gripping the seat, spreading my legs.

From behind, he could see everything—the hidden parts of me, fully exposed.

He soaped my buttocks, then let his hand slip lower, touching my anus, then moving back to my slit.

Just knowing he was watching made me blush with shame. But his gentle, meticulous touch intensified that shame—and strangely, that shame excited me further.

He turned on the handheld showerhead and rinsed the soap from my buttocks, anus, and sex.

I could see his fingers hovering near my pubic hair, moving closer, retreating.

Moans spilled continuously from my lips, as if proof that I was enjoying it.

Then his finger slipped inside me.

It wriggled like a worm, squirming as if searching for something.

“Ahhh~~~”

I groaned, shaking my head.

He pulled his finger out, left me frozen in that position, and stepped out of the bathroom.

When he returned moments later, his penis was covered with a condom.

He rubbed the tip against my buttocks, then slowly pushed into my wetness.

Even though we\'d already had sex once, only now did I begin to feel real pleasure.

He thrust back and forth, and instinctively, I swayed my hips to match his rhythm.

My heart pounded faster. Heat surged through me.

He leaned forward, pressing his chest against my back.

The slippery, soapy sensation—against my back, my thighs—drove me to move faster, more urgently.

Then he straightened up, slowed his piston-like motions, and used the showerhead to rinse the soap from my body.

Suds ran down my legs, foaming as they fell.

Suddenly, he quickened his pace—then thrust hard, deeply, and stopped moving entirely.

He held me tightly, gripping my hips, pressing his body flush against mine so I couldn\'t move.

I could feel his cock twitching inside me, shifting slightly.

“Huuu~~”

With a long sigh, he pulled out and helped me stand.

His cock was still erect—clearly, he hadn\'t climaxed yet.

He sat me back on the tub\'s edge and carefully washed away the remaining soap on my legs.

We switched places. He sat on the tub, and I knelt before him.

I wrapped my right hand around his shaft, gently fondled his testicles with my left. The semi-limp cock quickly swelled again.

I brought my lips forward and kissed the tip softly.

Then slowly, I took him into my mouth and began sucking.

“Mmm…”

His moan echoed in my ears.

I didn\'t feel much myself—just mechanically moving, aroused only by the act, not emotion.

He was clearly thrilled.

He pulled me up and led me to the bed.

He bent me over the mattress and hurriedly entered me from behind.

“Hah…”

The sound of damp skin slapping against skin was louder than before.

My own arousal made the movement smoother, easier.

His cock slid effortlessly within me.

I knew I should feel ashamed—aroused in this submissive posture—but I had no room for such thoughts.

Rather than wrestling with complicated emotions, I just wanted to follow instinct.

“A… Ahhh~~~”

My moans grew louder.

“Ah… Mmm…”

My face nearly buried in the sheets, I could barely hold my posture.

He gripped my waist, keeping me from collapsing, continuing his relentless motion.

Faster and faster.

An unbearable sensation building.

“Please… faster…”

But it didn\'t last long.

With one powerful thrust, I felt him pull out.

Something hot splashed against my buttocks.

I collapsed right there, gasping for breath.

He gently embraced me, and I stayed in his arms.

Like lovers.

Every time his hand touched me, it felt as if every cell in my body responded.

In answer to his caress over my bare skin, I occasionally lifted my head to kiss his chest.

As we left the motel, I barely noticed the glances from others passing by.

He naturally draped an arm over my shoulder, like a lover would.

I was about to hail a taxi, but he insisted on driving me home.

Telling him my address didn\'t sit well with me—but I gave in anyway.

On the drive back, we hardly spoke.

When we arrived in front of my house and I prepared to get out, he pulled me back by the hand.

We shared a deep, natural kiss—long and intense.

I barely managed to stop him when he tried to open my shirt for more touching.

Fixing my clothes, I glanced around.

Thankfully, it was late—no one seemed to be passing by.

As I opened the door to leave, he handed me a check.

I refused at first, but he insisted—said it was a gift, to use as pocket money.

So I took it and stepped out.

He waved, said we\'d meet again, and drove off.

Back inside my apartment, I looked at the check.

Three hundred thousand won.

That was no small amount.

Was it okay to accept this? It felt like a prostitute receiving payment.

“Well, like he said—it\'s just pocket money. What\'s the big deal?”

Even telling myself that, I didn\'t feel clean.

This money made it feel like I had to see him again.

Not that I minded—but I didn\'t want to feel trapped.