'Thiscan'tbehappeningthiscan'tbehappening—!'
The motel room's cheap headboard slammed a percussive beat against the floral wallpaper. The mattress was shifting back and forth, back and forth—
Thump-thump-thump-thump!
CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!
"Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!"
Juri Han's scream was torn from a place she didn't know she possessed. Her cheek was mashed into a scratchy pillow that smelled of stale cigarettes and bleach, her knuckles white where they gripped the mattress. "I'm fucking cumming again!"
Now, to the neighbors, this sounded like the classic tale of a man and an overeager whore trying to please him.
'I—am—not—fucking—fuck—!'
Juri Han did not please others, much less a man.
Her entire world had narrowed to the exquisite, punishing fire in her womb. The stud responsible for this, for making her legs feel like noodles, pistoned into her, his big, thick cock spearing her. Each thrust sent a seismic shock through her. Each thrust earned a loud shriek or moan. Another orgasm.
Juri-Han. Oh, the great Juri-Han. Feared by men, killer of thousands, a spider that consumed men and women alike like a black widow.
She could shatter concrete and break bones. She could kill a hundred Shadoloo agents in one night—hell, she did precisely that twenty-three hours ago. Except here, on this cheap ass mattress, none of that mattered. There was only the wet, filthy sound of his balls slapping against her booty filled the air, a maddening counterpoint to everything that she was. .
'How? How is this happening—!?' The thought was a distant, fragmented echo in a mind drowning in sensation. She'd picked him for a reason. He was ordinary.
'To me! TO ME—!"
"CUMMIIINGGSHSHHH~!!"
This was an utterly pathetic performance and deeply uncharacteristic of what she would do in bed. Yes, this was not how Juri imagined spending her night by any stretch of the imagination. Four hours ago, she was at a bar. She picked an innocent target and planned to get him shit-faced at the bar, mock his clumsy advances, maybe break a finger or two for fun before lifting his wallet and phone. It was her kind of Tuesday. She hadn't even bothered for his name.
Somehow…
"Fucking fuck, fuck, FUUUCK—!"
Somehow, his ten-inch cock was buried to the hilt inside her, and she was his.
"Oh god, right there," Juri Han babbled. God, was she hearing herself right? "Don't you fucking STOP, you bastard! Don't you dare STOOOOPPP~!!"
Her ass jiggled with every impact, a hypnotic bounce that the stud watched with a dark, focused intensity she couldn't see. This stupid bastard was a silent engine of destruction, his only sounds the grunts of effort and the slick, sweaty slap of skin on skin. He reached around, his calloused fingers finding her clit, and Juri saw stars.
He wasn't just some stupid big dick brute. He was skilled. A combination that she prided herself on, except the tables were turned.
"Nnnngh! YES!" Juri Han shrieked, her back arching so violently it threatened to snap. Her orgasm wasn't a wave; it was a tsunami. It splurted out of her, a gushing, uncontrollable flood that made a mess of the cheap motel sheets. Her legs trembled. Her vision blurred. Another climax hit her before the first had even finished, a second seismic event that ripped a guttural scream from her throat. "FUCKING HELL! I'M—GOD—AGAIN!"
Her date's pace never faltered. He drove into her soaking wet cunt, his fat balls tightening. He didn't groan. He didn't announce anything. He just fucked.
The primal claim in his actions alone made her weaken. His thrusts became frantic, animalistic—and oh god, he was going to cum, wasn't he?
He was. He did. He slammed into her one last time, burying himself so deep she felt him in her throat. A hot, thick gush flooded her insides as he came, his super virile cum jetting into her in pulse after pulse after incredible pulse. Juri felt the warmth spreading, claiming her, and her own pussy clenched around him, milking him dry in a final, shuddering aftershock.
He pulled out with a wet, sucking pop, and Juri…well, she stayed in the same ass-high, face-low position. Her cheeks buried into the pillow while her knees managed to keep her fantastic booty-jiggling arch. Looking at her, the underworld would think her a common whore and not the assassin that she was. Yet who could blame them for not recognizing? Panting, dripping, utterly spent. A pool of his cum already began to leak out of her onto the sheet.
Could this really be Juri Han?
Yes. Yes, it was.
A flicker of her old self surfaced through the blissful haze. The humiliation. The loss of control. With a snarl, she rolled over, her muscles coiling. "Y-y-you think you're done with me?" she panted. She tried to get up and push him onto his back, to mount him, to reclaim the dominance that was her birthright. "My turn, you fucking—unh!"
But his hands were on her in an instant. Faster than she could process, he pushed her down onto her back as if she weighed nothing. Her strength—fuck, it was totally gone! In any other situation, she would have overpowered this bastard but his dick changed everything. It made her legs—oh fuck, he was grabbing her legs! Her legs were pushed up, up, until her knees were practically beside her ears, exposing her cunt completely.
The mating press.
"You motherfucker—" she started, but the protest died in her throat as he drove back into her in one smooth, devastating stroke.
"OOOOOHHH FUCK!" The new angle was inhuman. Deeper. More invasive. His weight and his ten inch cock pinned her, making escape impossible. He started thrusting. PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—!
Three thrusts in and her eyes rolled back in her head. His balls, heavy and full again, slapped wetly against her ass. He kept fucking hitting that sweet spot of hers….!
"Y-y-you're—! Nggghh! Gah~! Hgggghhhsshkk~! Y-you're fucking breeding me…" she moaned, the realization hitting her with the force of a physical blow. This ordinary man was treating her like a bitch in heat, and her body was betraying her, loving every second of it.
PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—!
How many thrusts? How many times did his cock go deep inside her? How much were her guts rearranged? Juri Han did not know. She didn't know much of anything, except that the dam broke. Orgasm after orgasm tore through her, each one stripping away another layer of her defiance. She wasn't Juri Han, the killer, the queen of chaos. She was just a woman, being fucked into a puddle of mindless ecstasy.
"Cumming, cumming, cummiiing! I'm cumming and I caaaaan't stop… hhhnnngg!" Her words dissolved into incoherent, guttural sounds. She was so sensitive, every nerve ending on fire.
She felt his body stiffen above her, his rhythm stuttering. She heard him grunting , his own climax triggering hers yet again. His second load erupted inside her, even thicker than the first, a hot, claiming splurt that sent her over the edge one final time.
The world went white, then black. The last thing she heard was the wet, rhythmic slap of his hips against her ass slowing, and the sound of her own broken, exhausted whimper. Juri Han—defeated. Not by a superior fighter, but by an ordinary man with a big cock and a devastatingly effective fuck.
'Who the fuck is this bastard…?'
Her eyes rolled up into her head, and the darkness swallowed her whole.
…
…
…
The first thing Henry felt was the pounding. Not the thrilling, rhythmic pounding of the night before, but a dull, throbbing ache behind his eyes that seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat. He winced, the cheap motel room coming into blurry focus.
'God, what did I drink last night?'
He tried to sit up, and that's when he noticed her. A woman. A stunning Asian woman, with dark hair fanned out across the pillow, one toned arm thrown over her head. She was out cold. And she was… naked.
His stomach did a nauseating flip. 'Oh, no. No, no, no.'
He scrambled out of the bed. The sheets were a tangled disaster, and the room smelled… used. His eyes scanned the scene, taking in the discarded clothes, the general state of disarray. He'd never seen this woman before in his life. He couldn't remember anything past buying a drink at the bar. The rest was a complete, terrifying blank.
"Holy crap," Henry whispered to himself. "What did I do?"
He looked at the time. Ah crap.
"I have to go to work."
He dressed as quietly as he could, his fingers fumbling with his buttons. Every creak of the floorboards sounded like a gunshot. He kept glancing at the woman, half-expecting her to wake up and…well, he didn't know what she'd do. From the look of things, last night had gone well. R-right?
Hrm. He tried to find a wallet or a piece of ID to call her by. He couldn't find one. Really, all he could conclude about her was that she looked strong. The kind of person who could break him in half.
Buuuut as much as he wanted to linger and talk to her, he had to get to work. He couldn't be here when she woke up. The thought of facing her, of trying to stammer through an apology for a night he couldn't even recall, sent a fresh wave of panic through him. He fished his wallet out of his pants. He had a twenty and a few ones.
"Haah…"
He sighed. He left it all on the rickety dresser, along with enough cash from his emergency fund to cover the motel room for another night. He found a napkin and a pen.
< I am so, so sorry about last night. I don't really remember what happened. I hope I wasn't… I hope you're okay. This should cover the room. I put my number at the bottom if you need to contact me. - Henry >
He placed the note next to the money, took one last guilty look at the sleeping stranger, and slipped out the door.
***
The woman never ended up contacting him. He gave his number and everything and all he received in turn was radio silence.
A week passed. By sheer coincidence, another lady-related event was happening. A date. Yep, a date, a week after his drunken hook-up. The knot of anxiety in Henry's stomach had only partially loosened. He'd thrown himself into work, trying to forget the entire weird, blurry incident. But he was lonely. Hence, the dating app.
It was slightly strange. The woman he met, Juri Han, contacted him. No offence, but most of the time, it was men taking the initiative. But Juri greeted him and aggressively flirted with him. And, well, before he knew it, he was here.
Henry was a normal guy. Honestly, he preferred to take a bit more time before meeting so directly, but his date was insistent. He was never good with pressure. The normal young male was standing nervously outside a trendy bar, shifting his weight from foot to foot. When it came to Juri, she told him she was a martial artist and that was about it. Her profile picture had been a stylized, artistic shot of her abs and cleavage. It was pretty hot. Barely scraped by the dating app's policies according to her.
Juri was funny. Henry was also desperately hoping this would go better than… well, his last unexplained motel experience.
A guy next to him was also waiting, scrolling on his phone. Henry gave him a small, nervous smile of solidarity. 'Another dating app victim,' he thought.
A sharp, sudden movement. A flash of a leg.
THWACK.
A pained, high-pitched oof! escaped the guy next to him as he doubled over, clutching his nuts. Henry did a double-take, utterly bewildered.
"Whoops~!" a voice chimed, sickly sweet and laced with dark amusement. "My mistake. Thought you were someone else."
The leg that wrecked the poor man's balls had not yet retreated. Henry's eyes traveled upward from the black, open-toed leggings, past the purple, baggy pants that did little to hide the powerful curve of her hips. His gaze lingered on the intricate web of black tape that crisscrossed her toned torso and sides, a provocative spider's design that drew the eye to every defined muscle. Over a sleeveless black undershirt, she wore fingerless gloves with pink accents. And finally, his eyes met hers—one a piercing, knowing brown, the other hidden behind a black eyepatch with a dark pink pattern.
She was the most intimidatingly beautiful woman he had ever seen.
She was also the woman from the motel room.
She was also probably Juri Han from the dating app.
A cold wave of recognition washed over him, followed immediately by a hotter, more confusing wave of sheer terror and… something else. Something heated he didn't want to acknowledge.
The guy on the ground groaned, and she finally lowered her legs. She also completely ignored the victim, her single focused eye locking onto Henry. A slow, predatory smile spread across her lips. It was a smile that knew things.
"Are you Henry?" she asked and he could not for the life of him tell if her smile was hot or terrifying.
He could only nod, his mouth suddenly desert-dry. He managed a weak, shaky chuckle. "H-hi there. I'm Henry."
Her smile widened. 'I certainly remember the man who fucked me senseless~'
"My date! Great! I'm Juri," she said, taking a step closer. The air around her seemed to crackle. "It's soooo good to finally see you again."
"R-right…"
Henry stared at her and then glanced at the man groaning on the pavement. A sense of responsibility washing over him. Meeting his date, who was also his mysterious motel conquest, who had just kicked a stranger in the balls, was too much to process at first.
"Uh, one second," he mumbled to Juri. He moved to the doubled-over man, offering a hand. "Hey, man. I am so, so sorry about that. You okay?"
The man took his hand and got to his feet, managing a pained grunt. "What the hell is her problem?!"
"S-sorry," Henry said, genuine sympathy in his tone. "A… case of mistaken identity?" He glanced back at Juri, who was watching the scene with an expression of profound boredom, one hip cocked, a finger tapping her thigh. He turned back to the man. "Really, are you alright? Can I get you some water or something?"
"Just… just go," the man wheezed, finally stumbling to his feet and shuffling away, walking with the wide, careful gait of someone protecting a precious, injured cargo.
Henry watched him go for a moment before turning to face Juri. Her single visible eyebrow was arched, a silent question pointed: 'Why did you bother?'
He took a tentative step toward her. "You should probably apologize," he said, his voice softer now, but firm.
Juri's eyebrow climbed higher. A flicker of something dangerous—amusement, annoyance, lethal intent—passed behind her eye. "Excuse me?"
Henry's heart hammered against his ribs. Every instinct told him to back down, to apologize himself, to run. This was a woman who could clearly break him and enjoy the process. In her texts, she mentioned taking out a dojo just so she could humiliate the master. He thought she had been joking but given what he saw, it probably wasn't. Strangely, a stubborn, unfamiliar nerve held him steady. "I said you should apologize. That really hurt him."
He expected a sneer. A laugh. A kick aimed at his nuts for his audacity. He did not expect the brief, almost imperceptible flicker of confusion that dulled her predatory gaze. Her lips parted slightly, then pressed into a thin line. She looked from Henry to the retreating figure of the man, then back to Henry. She clicked her tongue.
"Tch." Juri rolled her eyes so hard it seemed like a physical effort. "Fine." She took a half-step in the man's direction and called out, her voice utterly devoid of sincerity, "Sorry my foot mistook your junk for a speedbag!"
She immediately turned her back on the entire affair, her focus laser-locked on Henry again. She seemed almost as surprised by her own compliance as he was. Almost.
"So," Juri said, jamming her thumbs into her belt loops, aggressively changing the subject. "You just gonna stand there?"
"Right! No! Um…" Henry's brain scrambled for a plan. "This bar… they have amazing coffee. We could… go in? Get a cup?"
Juri let out a short, sharp cackle. "Coffee? I'm Korean, idiot. I want soju. I want something strong enough to peel paint."
"But it's really good coffee. I come here a lot. I, uh, I actually used to work at a roastery part-time," he said, a little puff of pride breaking through his nervousness. "I bet I know a blend you'd love. Something dark and with a real kick."
Juri stared at him, her head tilted. The command to destroy him died on her lips. A spider does not get told what to drink by a fly. But then her stomach grumbled. Why not entertain him? Her feet were already moving toward the bar's entrance. "Ha, only if you're paying! Lead the way, coffee boy."
They found a small, high-top table near the back. It was a dim little place, really, with few visits. Rather quiet too. Henry ordered for them both, a pour-over for himself and a specially prepared double espresso he described to the barista. Juri just looked happy that he was able to pay.
When the drinks came, Juri eyed the small ceramic cup with deep suspicion. She brought it to her lips and took a cautious sip. Her eye widened. It was… incredible. A rich, smoky flavor exploded on her tongue, followed by a deep, chocolatey warmth and a finish that was indeed, as promised, a powerful, spicy kick.
"Huh," Juri grunted, a sound of pure, unadulterated approval. She took another, longer sip.
"Good, right?" Henry smiled, a genuine, warm expression that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "It's a custom blend. We call it 'Midnight Oil.'"
"It's not completely shit," she conceded, unable to stop herself from taking another drink.
"Thanks." He smiled politely. "Wants donuts along with it?"
"Do I? As long as you're paying!"
"I live to serve, Juri."
A sound escaped her lips. A short, sharp, genuine laugh. The moment it happened, she froze. The cup halted halfway to her mouth.
What.
The.
Fuck.
'Why am I laughing?' The internal scream was back, louder this time. 'I was going to find this guy, kick his balls into his stomach, and demand to know how a loser like him fucked me into a coma! And now I'm sipping fucking coffee and GIGGLING?'
The contradiction was too much. The placid date, the pleasant coffee, his easy smile—it was an affront to her entire being. It was boring. It was wrong.
'I'm going to grab his nutsack and feed it down his throat.' Sip. 'After I finish this.'
"Ah," Henry waved the waitress over, "we'd like a dozen donuts, please."
The donuts too. Yeah.
"Oh, you guys are having a special? Juri, do you like cake? It's this velvet-chocolate blend. We can get two slices."
…after the cake too.
"By the way, what the fuck kind of name is Henry?"
"Um, it's a pretty normal name I think."
"It's got NPC vibes, Henry."
"Does it...? Huh, maybe it does..."
Suddenly, ten minutes had gone by and she was still on this stupid date. When she saw how much time had passed, she almost slapped herself. Holy fuck, was she Juri Han or not!?
"I have to piss," Juri announced abruptly, her voice gone cold and sharp again. She slid off the stool, the legs screeching against the floor. She didn't look back as she marched toward the restrooms.
Henry watched her go, smiling and waving at her. Juri pretended that she didn't notice. He finished the last of the donuts. He was just about to check his phone when he saw her returning.
Henry wasn't sure what reacted first, his eyes or his dick.
Juri had changed. Gone were the baggy pants and undershirt. She was now poured into a stunning, bold purple and pink collared catsuit. The material clung to every devastating curve of her body, emphasizing the powerful taper of her waist, the swell of her hips, the impossible length of her legs. The back, he could see as she turned to slide back onto the stool, featured an intricate, shimmering spiderweb design. The front was unzipped perilously low, revealing a breathtaking display of cleavage and the same black body tape he'd seen before, now looking even more like part of a tactical, seductive uniform. The black fingerless gloves with pink patterns remained, completing the look of a devastatingly sexy super-villain.
"Oh. Juri. You're, uh...you changed?"
She ignored his question entirely. She planted both hands on her hip.. She leaned across the table, her scent—something like night-blooming flowers and danger—washing over him. Her voice was a low, commanding purr that promised to strip every last sensible thought from his head.
"Forget the coffee, Henry. We're goin' for a ride on my ride. Let's go."
Juri didn't wait for an answer. She just turned on her heel, the taut material of her catsuit straining with the movement, and strode out. Henry blinked and scrambled to follow, his heart doing a funny little flip-flop in his chest.
Juri turned sharply into the alleyway directly next door. The alley was illuminated by a single flickering sodium-vapor light and unveiled her motorbike. A sleek, black, aggressively angled beast of a machine that looked less like a form of transportation and more like a weapon. It was polished to a mirror shine, with purple accents that glowed faintly under the light, perfectly matching her outrageous outfit.
Ju swung a leg over and settled into the seat. The engine growled to life with a low, guttural vrrrrrum that vibrated through the concrete beneath Henry's feet. She grabbed a second helmet hanging from the handlebars and shoved it into his chest.
"Get on," Juri commanded. "And hold on tight. I'm not responsible for you flyin' off."
"O-oh, we're going somewhere? Okay…"
Henry fumbled with the helmet, his fingers feeling thick and clumsy. He climbed on behind her, the seat forcing him to press right up against her. He tentatively placed his hands on her hips, the material of the catsuit smooth and unforgivingly firm over the solid muscle beneath.
Juri glanced back over her shoulder and scoffed. "I said tight, coffee boy. You cling to me like your fucking life depends on it. Because it does."
Swallowing hard, he wrapped his arms fully around her waist, pressing his chest against her back. He could feel the heat of her body, the shift of her muscles as she revved the engine.
VROOM!
Then they were moving. It wasn't an acceleration; it was a launch. The force slammed him back for a split second before he clung to her even harder, the world blurring into streaks of light and color. The wind roared in his ears, a frantic whistle against his helmet.
WHHOOOOOSH!
Juri leaned into a turn, carving through traffic with inches to spare. Horns blared—HONK! HOOONK!—but the sound was eaten by the wind and the engine's scream. Henry expected to feel terror. Juri smirked. She waited for the paralyzing fear to seize him.
It never came.
Instead, a wild, unbidden laugh burst from his lips, muffled by his helmet. "This is amazing!"
Juri felt it. She felt the joy in the grip of his arms. Her hands tightened on the handlebars. 'Is he… is he enjoying this?' This wasn't the plan. The plan was to scare the piss out of him, to show him just what kind of chaotic storm he'd foolishly climbed onto.
Henry wasn't scared at all though. He had the audacity to grin and ask, "Can we go faster?"
Fucking weirdo…
A competitive fire ignited in her gut. 'Fine. Let's see how he likes this.' Juri twisted the throttle, the bike surging forward with even more violent purpose. They shot down a wider avenue, the speedometer needle climbing steadily. The neon signs of Metro City became a continuous, dazzling river of light flowing past them.
ZOOOOOM!
Henry whooped again, his grip iron-tight. "This is incredible!"
'Un-fucking-believable.'
Juri pushed the bike even harder, weaving through slower cars. These were terrifying turns, mind you. They raced from the bustling core of the city out toward the industrial docks, where the streets were wider, emptier. The sun had fully set now, the sky a deep velvet blue pinpricked with early stars.
Seeing a long, clear stretch of road ahead, a truly devious idea popped into Juri's head. She downshifted, the engine whining in protest.
NNNEEERRRWWW!
"Hold on!" Jury yelled over her shoulder, though the warning was utterly unnecessary.
Juri hit the brakes and threw her weight hard to the side. The bike dropped into a perfectly controlled, high-speed slide, kicking up a plume of sparks from the footpeg grinding against the asphalt. SKRRREEEEEEEECCCCHH! It was a flawless, showboating Akira slide, the bike sliding sideways for a breathtaking fifty feet before she effortlessly righted it and accelerated again.
"Holy shiiiit!"
The entire world tilted sideways for Henry. It was the most insane, the most awesome thing he had ever experienced.
Juri's jaw clenched behind her helmet. That was the most extreme thing she could do without risking her own life, which she wasn't about to do when she had shit to do. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. This was her fun, her sadism. This bastard…
They spent the next hour just riding. She showed off, taking corners too fast, gunning it down straightaways, and he was there for all of it, a willing and ecstatic passenger. At one point, she sped past a couple walking hand-in-hand so quickly that the gust of wind sent them stumbling into a heap.
Juri glanced in her rearview mirror, saw their flailing limbs, and let out a sharp, triumphant cackle. "Hahaha! Suckers!"
Henry, to her utter astonishment, chuckled along with her. It was like he thought she wouldn't have killed them. She would have. She was Juri fucking Han.
Time melted away, measured only in the rush of wind and the thrum of the engine. It was only when they drifted into a quieter, residential neighborhood that Henry tapped her shoulder and pointed.
"Hey, that's my place. The brownstone right there."
'Over there?
' Juri expected herself to gun the engine and take off. Troll him at long last. Instead, defying all logic, Juri downshifted. The bike's growl softened to a purr as she smoothly guided it to the curb right in front of his building and came to a stop. The sudden silence was deafening.
Henry slowly, reluctantly, unwound his arms from her waist and climbed off. He pulled off the helmet, his hair sticking up in all directions. "That was… that was the most fun I've had in my entire life. Thank you, Juri."
He was beaming, his face flushed with adrenaline and happiness. Juri killed the engine, the silence now absolute. She kept her helmet on, her visor hiding her face as she looked anywhere but at him.
"It was whatever," Juri muttered.
'A ride. Just a stupid ride. He's a nobody.'
Why did her own words sound alien and clumsy in her mouth? Fucking hell…! She cleared her throat and was about to hurl an insult for fun.
Until Henry took two steps, leaned in, and before her razor-sharp reflexes could even process anything, he pressed a soft, warm kiss to her cheek, right where the helmet's jawline met her skin.
Juri froze. Completely and utterly.
He pulled back, still smiling. "Goodnight, Juri. I had a really great time." He turned and started walking toward his building's steps, waving without looking back. "I hope we can do it again sometime!"
Her brain short-circuited. Words tried to form—threats, curses, dismissals. All that came out was a strained, quiet, "...Sure."
Henry disappeared inside. The street was quiet. Slowly, mechanically, Juri pulled off her own helmet. Her hand rose, her gloved fingers touching the spot on her cheek where his lips had been. It felt like a brand.
The ruthless fighter, the queen of chaos, was sitting on her bike in a quiet suburban street, flustered by a peck on the cheek.
A low growl rumbled in her throat. 'This damn guy…'
He was getting under her skin.
She put her helmet back on with a sharp, definitive click. 'Next time,' she promised herself, gunning the engine back to life with a savage twist of her wrist. 'Next time, I'll crush his balls. I'll pay him back for that motel room and this… this.'
She drove off in agony and with terribly red ears.
***
The morning sun stabbed at Henry's eyes as he yawned, stretching his arms high above his head. Another day. He padded out of his bedroom, scratching his bare chest, and pushed open the bathroom door. He was on autopilot, his brain still fuzzy with sleep, the room dark except for the sliver of light from the hallway.
He didn't notice the sliver of deeper shadow that detached itself from the corner and stepped silently into his room behind him.
In the bathroom, he tugged the shower curtain—only halfway across, a habit from living alone—and turned on the water. He stepped under the hot spray, yawning again, blissfully unaware.
Juri stood just outside the door. She lifted her leg and flexed her toes. 'This is it. No more games.' She'd broken in to end this. To reassert the natural order of things, where she was the predator and he was… well, nothing. A momentary blip. She'd just knock him out, steal his wallet for old times' sake, and be done with it.
She peered around the doorframe.
And her world tilted on its axis.
'Holy fuck. Holy FUCK.' Her single eye widened, her breath catching in her throat. All her violent intent evaporated, replaced by pussy-throbbing shock.
There it was. It. Hanging between his legs as he soaped his chest, completely oblivious. It was… magnificent. A thick, heavy shaft that had to be a solid seven or eight inches even at rest, swaying gently. It was perfectly formed, veined, and crowned with a broad, flushed head. And below it… oh god, below it… a weighty, hefty sac containing heavier balls. They were hanging full and heavy, a truly impressive pair that promised an unbelievable load.
A torrent of memory flooded her—the motel room, the relentless, animalistic pounding, the feeling of being utterly filled, the hot, thick spurts of his cum flooding her insides. Her knees felt weak. Her mouth went dry.
'That… that's what did that to me? That's the fucking weapon that ruined me?' A tremor ran through her. The dissonance was staggering. This gentle, sleepy man, yawning in the shower, possessed a tool of absolute sexual destruction. The thought, her original mission, now seemed not just impossible but utterly sacrilegious. A wave of heat, pure and intense, washed over her, settling deep in her core with a throbbing ache.
Suddenly self-conscious, Henry gave a final yawn and reached for the curtain, pulling it shut with a soft shhhhk of plastic rings, cutting off the breathtaking view.
The sound snapped Juri out of her trance. Panic, a feeling she so rarely experienced, seized her. 'He can't see me like this.'
Flustered, awe-struck, wet—Juri Han turned and fled. Back through his apartment and out the window she'd jimmied open. Her mind and her pussy were desperate with a newly-rekindled hunger.
Hours later, Henry was buttering a piece of toast when his phone chimed. A notification from the dating app. A text from Juri.
< Outside. 10 minutes.
A genuine smile spread across Henry. He quickly got ready, a nervous energy replacing his usual morning calm. He walked out his front door just in time to see a sleek black bike scream around the corner.
It skidded to a stop in a cloud of smoke and the deafening screech of rubber on asphalt—SKREEEEEEEECH!—executing a perfect, showboating Akira slide that ended with its front tire an inch from his driveway. The engine cut.
The rider, a vision in lethal beauty, dramatically whipped off her helmet.
Juri shook out her dark hair. Her outfit was the aggressively sexy fit from their original meeting: a tiny, sleeveless white cropped top with pink trim and a prominent green zipper running down the back. The same black body tape was artfully threaded under the top and across her flat, muscular stomach, creating an intricate spiderweb pattern that drew the eye down, down to the tantalizingly low waistline of her black baggy pants. The pants themselves were a masterpiece with a shocking, large crotch cutout that revealed the white fabric of her tights beneath.
She took off her helmet.
She was the sexiest, most dangerous thing he had ever seen.
"Heya! Miss me!"
She smirked. She attempted to intimidate him with her walk and her bike. She dangled her helmet from her fingers.
"Ha, let me guess, you missed me! Bet ya jerked off in bed too!" She cackled and Henry just chuckled.
"Nothing like that, but I did miss you."
She smirked back and acted like her heart didn't skip a beat. "Tryin' to flirt? That's nice. I like it." She put a hand on her hip and her helmet kept dangling in circles. "So…"
Henry blinked with a smile. "So?"
"Any ideas for our date."
"Oh. I thought you—"
"Nope, I'm fresh out of ideas. Just called you out 'cuz…I wanted to. That's it."
Henry, bless his heart, nodded and cocked his head. "Well, I'm glad you're here. But, hrm…ideas. I think I might have one."
"It better not be stupid."
Henry laughed. "It's not, I promise. Come on." He walked toward her bike, his confidence from their ride apparently lingering. "I'll give you directions."
***
He wanted to take her to a carnival. Typical.
The first thing he did was buy her cotton candy. Juri mildly appreciated the gesture, so she spared him from a nutshot. And then he took her to Metro City's largest roller coaster. She had always wanted to ride so again, she spared and entertained him.
An hour went by before Juri realized it. The carnival was a thick, greasy perfume of popcorn, fried dough, and the faint, metallic tang of rust from the aging rides. Henry breathed it in with the gusto of a man coming home. Juri Han, the woman who had once vowed to break his teeth for a poorly timed apology, found herself holding a fluffy, pink cloud of spun sugar on a paper cone.
She saw a couple passing by. The woman was doing the exact same thing, holding a cloud of cotton candy and sharing it with her boyfriend.
"Ha?"
"Mind if I take a piece?"
"Huh, oh sure—" Juri couldn't stop herself, she replied and let him take a piece. He ate and sucked a breath in appreciation.
She stared at him, then the cotton candy, then herself. 'What fresh, mundane hell is this?'
"Try mixing it!" Henry urged as he took a bite of her pink cotton candy. His face was bright with boyish excitement as he took a huge bite of his own blue cotton candy. "It's the best part!"
With a sigh of utter defeat, she tentatively pulled a wisp of it off with her gloved fingers and put it in her mouth. It dissolved instantly, a saccharine explosion that made her teeth ache, and further combined it with Henry's blue cotton candy.
'Huh.' She did it again. And again. The sugary rush was immediate and potent. 'Okay. This isn't completely terrible.'
"See?" Henry beamed, completely misinterpreting her thoughtful silence for delight. "Come on, we have to hit the last rides before the lines get long!"
"We're going again?"
"Till the sun falls?"
He took her hand—a gesture so simple and forward it short-circuited her threat-assessment protocols—and pulled her toward the midway. Her first instinct was to break his wrist. Her second, newer, more confusing instinct was to let him. His hand was warm, his grip firm but gentle. She let him lead.
They stopped in front of a monstrous contraption called 'The Arachnid.' It was a giant, multi-armed spider that spun its two-person cars in a dizzying, nauseating orbit. The screams of its current victims were not of terror, but of pure, unadulterated agony.
A slow, wicked smile spread across Juri's lips. 'Now this is more like it.'
"Oh, this looks fun!" Henry exclaimed.
'Is he for real?' Juri wondered, a flicker of genuine curiosity cutting through her amusement. 'He thinks other people's suffering is 'fun'? Maybe he's not as soft as he looks.'
They strapped into the small, crimson car, the safety bar clicking into place with a heavy, final thunk. The ride jerked to life, and soon they were whipping through the air, the world becoming a blur of lights and screaming. Henry whooped with joy, his laughter ringing in her ear.
Juri, however, wasn't looking at the lights. Her eye was locked on a car opposite them, where a man had just thrown up all over his date. The resulting shriek of disgust was a symphony to her ears. She cackled.
Henry followed her gaze and chuckled. "Oh, man. Rough ride. Bet he won't do the tilt-a-whirl next."
His reaction wasn't one of shared malice, but of sympathetic amusement. He was laughing with the chaos, not at the pain. It was a distinction Juri's psyche was unequipped to process.
After stumbling off the ride—Juri perfectly steady, Henry wobbling with a giddy grin—they got more cotton candy. As Henry fumbled for his wallet to pay, a woman approached him. She was pretty, blonde, and smiling a little too warmly for Juri's liking.
"Excuse me," the woman said, her voice light and friendly. "Could you tell me where the restrooms are?"
She was a pretty blonde too. Nice bust, low-cut top…
'Oh, hell no…!'
Ever the gentleman, Henry turned to her with a polite smile. "Oh, sure! They're just past the Ferris wheel, you can't miss the—"
The blonde inched closer. Oh HELL no. The blonde was promptly cut off as Juri shouldered her way between them, putting up some space. 'Fucking bitch...!'
Coming so close to him when all she was supposedly doing was asking for directions...!
"It's right fucking there, are you blind or something?"
The blonde stammered. "S-sorry, I was just—"
"Get lost," Juri snarled, her voice dropping to a register that promised broken bones. "He's busy. With me."
The woman's smile vanished, replaced by wide-eyed fear. She stammered an apology and practically fled to the bathroom.
Henry blinked twice. "Juri! What was that for? She was just asking for directions."
"That's…nevermind," Juri hissed, turning her glare on him. The sugar high was mixing with a far more familiar, more potent cocktail of possessiveness and rage. "You should be more aware of talking to strangers. This is Metro fucking City, just two years ago, this place was a shit so. Blondies with big tits used to be symbols for scammers, you know?"
"Really? Huh…sorry, I guess I can be oblivious to that kind of thing."
Juri stared at him, her eye twitching. Was she lying? Was she telling the truth? A little bit of both? Maybe, maybe not.
She decided to end the debate her way.
In one fluid motion, her leg snapped up. Not to kick, but to hook. Her powerful thigh wrapped around his waist, yanking him forward against her with a sudden, shocking force. "Nnf!" he grunted, off-balance and pinned. Her gloved hand came up, cupping his cheek with possessive greed and affection. She leaned in, her lips inches from his, her breath warm and smelling of sugar.
"Listen to me, you oblivious bastard," she purred, her voice a low, menacing threat that made his breath hitch. "We're done with this pathetic circus. I know a place. It's called Valentine's Valentine. We're going. Now."
Henry's brain, however, was a marvel of misinterpretation. A place called 'Valentine's Valentine'? It sounded cheesy. Expensive. And he'd noticed something over their date. She'd let him pay for everything—the tickets, the food, the rides. She'd even pocketed a handful of free sugar packets from the concession stand.
A look of dawning, sympathetic understanding softened his features. "Ohhh," he said, his voice gentle, almost pitying. "Juri… you don't have to do that. We don't have to spend money at some overpriced restaurant."
Her predatory smirk faltered. 'What?'
"Look," he continued, blushing slightly but pressing on with earnest kindness. "It's okay. Really. I get it. Times are tough. We can just go back to my place. I can cook! I make a great pasta, and it won't cost a single penny. It'll be way better than some stuffy, expensive place called Valentine's whatever."
The world stopped spinning. The raucous sounds of the carnival faded into a dull, distant roar. Juri Han, a woman who had financial empires in offshore accounts and who could buy this entire pathetic carnival with the loose change in her pocket, could only stare.
'…He thinks I'm broke.'
The internal screech was so loud she was surprised his head didn't explode from the psychic pressure. 'This motherfucker! This worm! This… this…' The indignity was so colossal, so utterly insulting, that it vaporized her murderous intent, her sexual frustration, everything. It was replaced by a white-hot, truly hilarious fury.
She was going to kill him. She was going to slowly, methodically, and with great pleasure, dismember him and feed the pieces to his own pasta maker.
The hand on his cheek twitched. A sweet, terrifyingly convincing smile stretched across her lips, not reaching her cold, cold eye. "Your place?" she said, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. "That sounds… perfect, Henry."
'I am going to fucking murder you.'
****
So she had snuck into Henry's apartment. That wasn't the same as actually visiting it through the front doors. It was normal. Looked normal, smelled normal, like old books, clean laundry, and in a couple minutes, the savory promise of something cooking.
Juri sat perched on the arm of his worn but comfortable sofa, one leg draped over the side, her heavy combat boot swinging idly. She watched him move around the small kitchenette, a study in concentrated, domestic ineptitude that was somehow... endearing.
Her gaze swept over the modest space. 'Fucking hell…this is the lair of the man who wrecked me?' It was almost insultingly normal. Yet, a low, persistent thrum of anticipation coiled in her belly. The predator in her was content to wait, to observe her prey in its natural habitat before she pounced.
"Almost done!" Henry announced.
But waiting was boring.
Juri uncoiled from the couch and padded into the kitchen. Henry was chopping an onion, his brow furrowed in concentration, his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth. She leaned her hip against the counter right beside him.
"Need a hand, chef? I'm very good with my hands. I can… pound things into submission."
Henry didn't look up from his onion. "Oh, that's okay! I've got a system. Almost done with this," he said cheerfully, the knife making a steady thump-thump-thump against the cutting board. He completely missed the loaded double-entendre, the brush of her hip against his sleeve.
Juri's eye narrowed. She leaned in closer, her lips nearly brushing his ear, her breath ghosting over his skin. "Mmm. I bet you do. A man who knows his way around a firm, juicy… vegetable."
Henry blinked, finally pausing to look at her. Her heart gave a triumphant little leap. Finally. But he just smiled, a warm, guileless expression that completely disarmed her. "Thanks! I've been practicing. I read that women love a guy who can cook."
He turned back to the stove, dumping the onions into a sizzling pan. Sssssss. The sound was loud in the sudden silence. Juri could only stare at the back of his head, utterly flabbergasted. She felt a hot flush creep up her neck.
'I should fucking kill him…'
Frustration, hot and sharp, warred with a bizarre, unfamiliar flicker of amusement. She decided to be blunt. She let her gloved hand drift from her hip to his lower back, her fingers pressing lightly against the firm muscle she found there. "You know, Henry," she murmured, her voice dropping to a whisper meant only for him. "You really want to be begging by the end of the night, hm?"
He jumped slightly at her touch, but his response was a soft, embarrassed chuckle. "Oh, man, I hope not! I really hope this aglio e olio turns out okay. It's a simple dish, but it's all about technique." He gave the pan a confident shake.
Juri's hand fell away. She was speechless. 'Aglio e fucking olio.' This man was a fortress of obliviousness, and she was utterly unequipped to siege it. She watched him, dumbfounded, as he seasoned the food with a focus usually reserved for defusing bombs. A laugh, real and unexpected, bubbled up in her chest. She stifled it, turning it into a cough.
'This is ridiculous.' Her stomach grumbled. 'Fuck it, I'll wait after I eat.'
Soon, he was plating the food. It was simple: pasta glistening with olive oil, flecked with garlic and red pepper flakes, topped with a generous snowfall of parmesan. He carried the two bowls to the couch and they sat, side-by-side, their knees almost touching. The cheap springs groaned under their weight.
He handed her a fork. "Hope you like it."
Juri took a bite. The flavors exploded on her tongue: garlicky, spicy, perfectly al dente. It was, infuriatingly, delicious. "It's… not complete shit," she grunted, already taking another, larger mouthful.
"You said last time. I hope that isn't your go-to comment."
"No, no, it's…good. Great even."
'...did I just fucking pressured?'
Henry beamed, the simple praise seeming to light him up from within. "Really? Awesome. Like I said, I've been practicing. Since we started texting, I just wanted to get it right. For whenever this happened."
The admission was so earnest, so nakedly vulnerable, that it knocked the wind out of her sarcastic retort. Juri Han just ate, the comfortable silence settling between them. It wasn't the tense, predatory quiet she was used to; it was easy. Peaceful. He got up and poured her a glass of red wine from an inexpensive bottle, and she accepted it without a snipe about the vintage.
"So…you work?"
Juri was the one that asked that. Most of their conversations on the phone and in real life tended to focus on her martial arts stuff, food, and, well, actually mostly food. The kinds of restaurants they went to, favourite cuisine, that sort of thing. But for the first time, she was listening to Henry talk.
Juri watched him talk about his day at the roastery, his hands moving animatedly. She noticed the little fleck of parsley on his lip. She saw the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. And with a jolt that was more terrifying than any fight, Juri Han realized something.
'Everything he's doing is making my fucking pussy wet.'
The thought was so alien, so contrary to her entire being, that she froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. This wasn't the conquering lust of the motel. This was a slow, simmering heat, built on stupid jokes, shared pasta, and his idiotically kind eyes. It was infinitely more dangerous.
Henry must have seen something in her expression. He stopped his story about a coffee bean shipment. He gently took her bowl and his, setting them on the floor. The apartment was quiet now, save for the distant hum of city traffic.
"Juri?" he said softly.
Juri Han just stared, her mind a roaring static. Her ears felt like they were on fire.
He slowly, so slowly she could have broken his arm a dozen times over, reached out. His fingers, warm and slightly calloused from work, brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. The touch was devastating in its tenderness.
He leaned in, giving her every possible second to pull away, to mock him, to break his nose.
Juri didn't move.
He tilted her head toward him and pressed his lips to hers.
It was soft. Questioning. A world away from the brutal, claiming force she was used to. Her eyes fluttered shut. A small, broken sound escaped her—a quiet mmph of surrender. She felt his arm slide around her waist, pulling her closer against his side, his hand a warm, solid weight on the small of her back.
He was kissing her. And she was letting him. She was Juri Han, and she was letting a man make her feel like a normal woman on a normal date. The paradox should have shattered her.
But a switch flipped.
All the frustration, the confusion, the simmering heat crystallized into a single, white-hot point of need. Her mental walls crumbled. Her carefully constructed persona of ruthless control evaporated.
She pulled back just an inch, her single eye blazing with a new, fierce intensity. Her gloved hand came up, not to push him away, but to cup the back of his neck.
The quiet intimacy of the kiss shattered like glass. In a flash of movement too quick to track, Juri's hands were on his shoulders, shoving him back against the worn cushions of the couch. His head knocked against the backrest. Before he could even process the motion, she was straddling his lap, her knees pressing into the sofa on either side of his hips, pinning him in place.
Juri licked her lips.
Her ass ground down against his crotch and slowly, she felt his cock sprout. She smirked. "Good boy~!" A maddening circle of pressure from a toned Korean ass.
"You have no fucking idea what you do to me, do you?" Her hips were rolling again, making him gasp. Making him throb and harden. Making his bulge rub against her booty. "I'm going to ride this cock until you forget your own name. I'm going to fucking milk you dry, Henry. I want to feel every last fucking inch of you stretching me open, splurging that hot load deep inside me. You're going to fucking beg me to stop, but I won't. I'm going to take it all."
She expected him to stammer. To blush. To be the flustered, gentle man she'd just shared a meal with.
His hands moved.
They weren't tentative or gentle. They slid down her back, over the curve of her spine, and seized her ass with a sudden, firm possessiveness. His fingers dug into the supple, powerful muscle of her ass cheeks, kneading them through the tight material of her pants with a confidence that was utterly new.
"Juri." Henry called out her name and her cunt throbbed. She almost whimpered. His fingers kneaded her glorious ass. She was dummy thicc, the type that didn't look like she had an ass but definitely did. Oh yes, Henry gave a nice, meaty smack and her ass jiggled.
Suddenly, she wished was naked. Her pussy was throbbing and she wanted him to feel everything.
He pulled her harder against his groin, grinding her down onto him as he tilted his head up and captured her mouth in a deep, consuming kiss. It was nothing like their first. This was all heat and hunger and a shocking undercurrent of dominance that made her head spin. One of his hands remained firmly on her ass, holding her in place, while the other came up to tangle in her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss even further. Even Juri Han could only moan into his mouth, a helpless, surrendering sound she barely recognized as her own.
She broke the kiss, gasping for air, her smirk faltering under the weight of his unexpected control. "Fuck… you…"
A slow, easy smile touched his lips. He gave her ass another appreciative, commanding squeeze. "Guess we're picking up from that morning, huh?"
"Ha! Thought you'd never talk about it!"
Driven by a need to reclaim the upper hand, to pick up from where they left off, she slid down his body. Her hands trailed over his chest, his stomach, until she was between his legs. Her eye was level with the prominent bulge in his pants, a tent of fabric that promised something magnificent.
"Let's see what I'm working with~!"
She nuzzled the hard length through the cloth, inhaling his scent—clean cotton, and something uniquely, musky, and him. He was fully hard at this point, or at least that was what she assumed. "Hnngh. Doubt a cock can get any bigger than this." She planted a soft, open-mouthed kiss on the tip, her tongue flicking out to trace the shape of him through the material. She felt him jump beneath her lips, heard his sharp intake of breath.
"Fuck, Juri…"
Emboldened, she licked a long, wet stripe along the entire stiff ridge, savoring the way the fabric grew damp under her attention. That was pre-cum. Pre-cum. She mouthed him, sucking gently through the pants, her tongue working him until a dark spot of pre-cum began to bloom on the material.
Sluurp!
Holy fuck, what a cock…she could just feel the ridiculous girth…
"Okay, enough of this." Grinning, her fingers went to his belt buckle. The clink of the metal was loud in the quiet room. She undid the button of his jeans, the rasp of the zipper a symphony of anticipation. Ziiip! She hooked her fingers in the waistband of his pants and briefs and tugged them down in one swift, practiced motion.
Thwack!
A heavy, meaty slap of flesh against flesh as his cock sprang free, finally uncovered. The sound was absurdly loud.
Juri's world stopped.
Her single eye widened, her jaw going slack. All the air rushed from her lungs in a silent whoosh. She had seen it in the shower, at rest, and had been stunned. But this… this was a different beast entirely.
It was a monster. Thick, veined, and brutally erect, it stood proudly and had to be a solid ten inches, maybe more. A heavy, daunting length of flesh that curved slightly upward, the broad, flushed head already glistening with a bead of pre-cum. It was the kind of cock that didn't just promise pleasure; it promised complete and utter conquest.
Her pussy clenched around nothing, a visceral, instinctual reaction to the sight. A fresh rush of wetness soaked through her tights, a traitorous admission of how much her body already craved it. 'Ah…no fucking wonder. This… this is what ruined me.' Memories of the motel room—the relentless pounding, the feeling of being stretched to her absolute limit, the gush of his cum—flooded her mind, making her dizzy with renewed need.
"Holy shit…!"
Juri couldn't help herself. She peppered kisses along the throbbing length of his shaft, from the base all the way back to the tip. "Mwah! Mwah! Mwah!" Each kiss was a prayer to a god she never knew existed. Her tongue followed, licking up the prominent vein on the underside, tasting the faint, salty tang of him. She swirled her tongue around the broad head, lapping up the pre-cum that gleamed there. She took just the tip into her mouth, sucking gently, savoring the weight of it on her tongue, the way his hips gave a minute, involuntary thrust.
She pulled off, staring at it, her breath coming in short pants. She grinned. "Looks like you like it, huh?" Despite her taunt, when she saw it throb, she fell silent. Henry's cock was a work of art. A fucking masterpiece of male anatomy. She felt small before it. Humbled. And so fucking horny she could barely think straight.
Henry watched her, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Juri…"
She worshiped him for what felt like an eternity, kissing, licking, sucking, her hands stroking what her mouth couldn't cover. But he was steadfast, a mountain of pleasurable patience. The pre-cum continued to ooze, a tantalizing promise, but his climax remained elusive. She was a skilled woman, but this required a different kind of endurance.
A wicked, brilliant idea flashed in her mind. She leaned back on her heels, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across her glistening lips.
"You know what?" Juri said, her voice dripping with sinful intent. "Fuck it. There's something else I'm way better at."
In one fluid, acrobatic motion, she twisted her body. She laid back on the couch, paralleling him, and her feet came up to frame his hips. She kicked off her boots with two sharp, practiced flicks of her ankles.
"What are you—?"
Her feet swept toward his magnificent cock. With a dexterity that defied belief, she used her toes to gently grasp the base of his shaft. Squeeze!
She smirked up at his stunned expression, wiggling her toes and applying a delicious, teasing pressure. "Yeah, you like that, don't you? Haha, now hold still, honeypie! Let me show you what these feet can really do~!"
Coming together like hands, her toes curled and squeezed around his mushroom head. Then she slid aallll the way down, squeezing the base of his shaft and then down to his nutsack. Holy fuck, that was some control in her feet…!
"I said hold still." Juri tightened her grip with her feet, a delicious, maddening pressure that stilled his movement. "Let me do all the work. You just enjoy the ride, Henry."
This was the exquisite control of a master martial artist. She slid her soles along his length. Ssschhh. Up and down, a slow divine glide that made his eyes roll back in his head. Her feet were smooth and hypereffective on his dick. Suddenly, pre-cum was already leaking from his tip, each pass fueling the friction, turning it into a slick, obscene massage.
"J-Jury…!" Henry groaned, his hands fisting the couch cushions. "I-it's amazing…!"
"I know," she crooned, watching his face contort in pleasure. She increased the pace, her feet moving in perfect, alternating rhythm. One foot stroked up as the other swept down, creating a continuous, mind-melting sensation around his cock. "God, look at you. You're made for this. My perfect, big fucking cock."
She arched her back, grinning widely and bringing her feet together to form a tight, warm tunnel of fabric and flesh. She squeezed him tightly, then relaxed, then squeezed again, a pulsating rhythm that mimicked the contractions of a hungry pussy. Squeeze. Release. Squeeze.
"That's it… that's it… just like that…" he babbled, his head lolling back. "T-think I'm gonna…!"
The feel of his rigid, throbbing length trapped between her soles—it was intoxicating. She could feel the powerful throb-throb-throb of his pulse through her feet, a frantic drumbeat signaling his impending release. She licked her lips, her own core clenching with a sympathetic ache. She wanted to see it. She wanted to taste it.
"You're getting close, aren't you?" Juri taunted, speeding up her movements. Her feet were a blur now, a perfect machine of pleasure. Slap-slap-schlip! "You're gonna cum for me, Henry. You're gonna paint my feet with that thick fucking load. Do it. Cum all over me."
Her toes curled around the girthy tip, begging for that load, and he did just that. He delivered. SPLURT! A massive, pearly jet of cum shot out, arcing through the air. Juri, with a devilish grin, used the arch of her right foot to gently nudge the head of his cock to the left. Splurt-SPLAT! The next thunderous burst hit the arm of his couch, painting the beige fabric with a thick, white streak.
"Fuck yes!" she hissed, watching in awe as rope after incredible rope launched from him. Splurt! Splurt, spurt, spuuurt! They flew several feet, a spectacular display of virility that left her breathless. Finally, the torrent tapered off, the last few drops falling in a weak dribble onto his hefty nutsack.
Drip… drip…
She let out a satisfied sigh, a smirk playing on her lips. 'A good first offering,' she thought, preparing to pull her feet away and finally take him into her mouth to clean him up.
But her feet didn't pull away.
Her single eye widened from disbelief.
See, she was aware of the male biology. She was more than understanding of the refractory period. But due to her cum-drunk state, she totally forgot…Henry didn't have one. The cock between her feet… it didn't soften. It didn't even twitch with post-orgasm sensitivity. It remained. Rock hard. Veiny. Throbbing. If anything, it looked bigger, even more engorged and demanding than before.
"What the…" Juri's confident smirk vanished.
She experimentally gave him another slow stroke with her sole. Henry's cock visibly pulsed with renewed need.
A wild, incredulous laugh burst from her throat. This was impossible. Unnatural. Magnificent. Her competitive spirit, her sheer carnal curiosity, ignited into a roaring blaze. The game wasn't over. It had just reached a whole new level.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," she breathed, a new kind of hunger flashing in her gaze. "Fucking hell, those balls of yours aren't just for show. That's good! Hell, that's great!"
She went back to work with a furious, worshipful intensity. This time, she used every part of her feet. Her heels dug into the tense muscles of his inner thighs. Her arches provided a firm, sliding base for his shaft. Her toes, those nimble instruments of torture, focused their attention on the most sensitive part—the swollen, purplish head, rubbing and circling it with pinpoint precision.
"J-Juri…" He grunted. "A-already…!? Ngggh—!"
"Don't you fucking complain, you can cum again. You fucking can," she growled, her own breathing becoming labored. She was putting her entire body into the footjob. "You're going to give me another one. A bigger one. I want to see every last drop you have in those big, fat balls."
She felt the familiar tension coiling in him again, much faster this time, a building pressure that made his entire body tremble. The telltale pulse at the base of his cock became a frantic hammering against her foot. He was right there. On the edge.
This time, instinct overrode plan. The urge wasn't to direct it, or to watch it. It was to consume it. To claim the proof of his pleasure for herself.
As his back arched and a broken cry tore from his lips, Juri moved. In a flash of brutal grace, she uncoiled from her spot and launched herself forward, her mouth open, aiming to swallow the tip of his cock whole and drink the endless fount of his cum directly from the source.
She was a fraction of a second early. She did it. She smirked.
SPLURT!
The first explosive jet hit the back of her throat, a hot, salty, thick gush that she swallowed greedily. Gulp! It was delicious, better than she could have ever imagined, rich and musky and uniquely him.
It wasn't a matter of timing. The force and the volume of his seed, it was too immense. To ogreat.
SPLAT! The next violent burst hit the roof of her mouth and splattered across her tongue. SPLAT-SPLAT! Two more ripped through her lips before she could close them, painting her chin and cheeks. SPURT, SPURT, SPUUURT! A final, incredible fountain erupted, drenching the entire lower half of her face.
She pulled back, coughing slightly, utterly stunned. Thick, opaque ropes of his cum were splashed across her cheek, her nose, dripping from her chin onto her chest. A particularly large glob clung to her eyelashes, making her blink. The warm, claiming cumshots were everywhere in her vision. The taste, both swallowed and smeared on her skin, was overwhelming.
Juri Han had failed. She'd been completely and utterly facialed.
Juri stared up at him, cum dripping down her face, her expression one of pure, uncomprehending shock.
And his cock, glistening with a mixture of her saliva and his own release, remained standing at rigid, defiant attention between them. It hadn't softened in the slightest.
"S-sorry," Henry stammered.
Across Juri's cum-splattered face appeared a grin. She ran a single, deliberate finger down her cheek, collecting a thick, white glob and bringing it to her lips. Her tongue darted out, tasting him again, her single eye locked on his still-throbbing cock.
"Mmm. You taste even better on my skin, Henry." Juri wiped the rest from her face with the back of her hand, a messy, primal gesture. Then she reached up and untied the string of her eyepatch. It fell away, revealing the smooth, closed lid of her hidden eye. It was a gesture of ultimate vulnerability, a signal that the games were over. This was real.
"Hehe! Now this is going to be fun!"
Her hands went to the hem of her top. She pulled it over her head in one swift motion, tossing it aside. Her breasts spilled free, full and heavy, with dusky, pert nipples that were already hardened into tight peaks. She wasn't shy; she arched her back, offering them to his gaze. "Like what you see, nice guy?" She squeezed them. "They're D-cups! Nothing special!"
"I, erm…think they're special…"
She smirked, happy to hear it. Her fingers were at the waistband of her leggings. She hooked her thumbs in and pushed them down, along with the soaked panties beneath, in one single, fluid motion. She stepped out of them, kicking the sodden bundle away.
She stood on the couch before him, completely naked. Every hard-earned muscle was on display—the taut definition of her stomach, the powerful curve of her thighs, the flawless, pale skin of her torso. And her ass… two perfect, high orbs that looked sculpted from marble, firm and inviting. She jumped and spun, giving him a view of her glistening pussy and her ass cheeks.
Juri Han bared it all for Henry. She was happy to see his wide-eyed reaction and his cock giving another twitch that seemed to say more.
"I'm going to ride this fucking monster until your balls are dry and crushed," she promised, her voice dropping to a predatory growl. She dropped down, straddling him. For the first time, they were touching. No clothing, no gaps, his cock was pressed against her ass.
She reached between them, her fingers wrapping around his shaft. Her fingers did not touch. 'Holy shit, it's so thick.'
She cackled, pretending to be all confident and worthy. She arched her back, lifted her pussy, and positioned the broad, leaking head to ruin her.
She looked him dead in his kind, concerned eyes. "This is all your fault, you know. You and this… this thing. I'm going to get fucking addicted~!"
Juri Han sank down. Juri Han willingly took a man's cock. This man's cock. This ordinary, stupid, kind-hearted man and his massive fucking cock—!
"Oh god—!"
The first inch was a revelation. A stretching, burning fullness that stole her breath. 'Fuck. Fuck.' She had to fight to keep her face neutral, to keep the overwhelming sensation from showing.
"Juri? Are you… are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine worry.
"I'm fine," she hissed through gritted teeth, lowering herself another devastating inch. A sharp, involuntary gasp escaped her lips.
'Oh you fucking bastard, I wish you weren't so fucking obliviiious! Fuck, fuuuck!' Another inch. Her pussy fluttered wildly, trying to accommodate the incredible girth. She could feel every single vein, every ridge, stretching her wider than she'd ever been stretched before. Her nails dug into his shoulders.
More cock went inside her pussy. More and more…
"Hnggghh~!" She breathed heavily through her nose. It was almost like smoke was puffing out. "F-fuck…!"
Fuck!
But she did and she forced herself down the final, impossible inch.
"Hnggh…! Gshshkkk! S-see? See this?" Juri Han seated herself fully on Henry's lap, his entire, massive length buried to the hilt inside her. She tried to smirk, only for his cock to throb—naturally—and for Juri gasp and hunch over. Her forehead collapsed against his chest as a wave of intense, overwhelming sensation ripped through her. Tears welled in her eyes from the sheer, shocking fullness.
She felt impaled. Claimed. Ruined.
"Juri…?"
"I said… I'm… fine…" she panted, the words a strangled lie. She could feel him pulsing inside her, a deep, rhythmic throb that seemed to resonate in her very soul. She looked up, faking a smirk. "T-this is nothing! I told ya, it's nothing!"
The slow, tentative rock of her hips did not convince him. Anyone with a brain could tell this was a cautious exploration, a testing of limits. The friction was unreal, a slick, hot, maddening glide that was already coiling a spring of pleasure deep in her core.
Henry, confused by her uncharacteristic slowness, his instincts taking over, gently placed his large, warm hands on her ass. "Should I help you or…?"
Juri wanted to say, "Wait—!"
But she gasped and Henry took that as a sign that he should move on his own. That he should give a fair shot at thrusting.
Except he didn't just thrust. He lifted. His powerful hips pistoned upward off the couch, driving his cock even deeper into her, hitting a place inside her she never knew existed.
Juri's world exploded. She orgasmed. Yep, her first orgasm.
To describe it was to describe the birth of the stars themselves: it was a white-hot, supernova orgasm detonated at her core and radiated outward through every single nerve ending in her body. Her back arched, a perfect O forming on her lips. Her vision whited out, replaced by a kaleidoscope of blinding, ecstatic light. It was a divine, shattering convulsion that ripped through her with the force of a tidal wave, wiping every arrogant, sadistic thought from her mind. The only coherent thing that formed in the void was, 'Oh fuck. I messed with the wrong cock—!'
She was shuddering and arching and gasping like a mad woman. She didn't seem okay. She wasn't. Her pussy was still convulsing around his still-hard cock, milking it uncontrollably. She was raw. She was broken. She was reborn. She had just experienced her very first real orgasm, and it was at the hands—the cock—of a nice, oblivious guy.
It was a fucking miracle she didn't collapse. "Haahh…ghggnnfnh…f-fuckk…shit…" As the last tremors subsided, she felt him twitch inside her, already hard, already ready. He was about to move again.
A jolt of pure, unadulterated fear—and excitement—shot through her. 'He's not done. He's not even close to done. That was just his first thrust.'
For the first time in her ruthless, murder-filled life, Han Juri realized she might not stand a fucking chance.
CLAP—!
His balls smacked against her. The couch creaked. A broken, shuddering gasp ripped from Juri's throat as the last aftershocks of the godly orgasm subsided. "I'M FUCKING CUMMIIIING~!!!" Her entire world had just been rewritten in a blinding flash of white-hot pleasure. She was liquid, molten, completely disarmed. Henry's monstrous cock remained a solid, unwavering presence inside her.
A thrust and a stop. That was what it was.
Her arms were trembling and barely keeping her up. Bangs fell over her eyes and she just barely could look down at him. At Henry who was just plain confused.
"Juri? Was that… was that okay? You… you kinda screamed."
A pathetic laugh choked out of her. Okay? It was the single greatest physical sensation of her entire fucking life. But admitting that? Unthinkable.
Instead, a new, frantic need took over. The need for more. The need to be absolutely demolished by him.
"Okay?" Juri rasped, her voice wrecked. "Okay, fine—fuck! That was amazing! A-and that was the fucking appetizer, Henry. I know it is! Now stop being so goddamn nice and fuck me. Fuck me like you mean it. I want to feel this monstrous cock wreck my pussy. I want you to fucking ruin me!"
Her words were a command, but her pussy was a plea. She tried to move, to establish some semblance of the dominant rhythm she'd promised, but her hips could only manage a weak, quivering grind.
Henry nodded and smiled. "Got it! Just tell me if it's too much."
His hands, those large, warm hands that had held her so gently, slid down to her ass cheeks. His fingers dug into the firm, muscular flesh, gripping her with a possessiveness that made her smirk proudly.
"Good boy~!"
And then he moved.
He didn't just thrust. He drove. He lifted her entire body with an effortless strength that stole the air from her lungs and slammed her back down onto his shaft while simultaneously smacking his balls against her booty.
"THIS IS FUCKING IIIIIT~!!!" Juri screamed, grinning, her head snapping back. "SO FUCKING DEEEEEP~!!"
It was a perfect, devastating collision. Every inch of his incredible length speared into her, pounding directly into that newly discovered, magical spot deep inside her womb. The sensation was so intense, so overwhelming, it bordered on pain—a blinding, blissful pain that shattered her consciousness into a million pieces.
"YES, YES, YESSSS~!! THIS COCK IS ALL I FUCKING NEED~!!"
CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!
"Oh goddd~!!! Henry! Henry!! You fuckign stud! R-right there! RIGHT THERE! RIGHT! FUCKING! THEREEE~!!!"
Being a cold-blooded murder? Nah, Juri preferred to be this. A babbling cock-addicted Korean slut for this random civilian. It was far, far superior to having blood on her hands. No competition here.
"YOU BASTARD! YOU BIG DICK FUCK! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'VE GOTTEN YOURSELF INTO! I'M GOING TO BE YOUR SEX SLAVE! I'M GOING TO SPEND THE REST OF MY DAYS GETTING FUCKED BY THIS BIG DICK!"
Her eyes lost focus, rolling back into her head. Her mouth fell open, a thin string of drool escaping as her tongue lolled out. She was a mess. A desperate, pathetic, blissed-out mess bouncing on his dick.
She was cumming again. There was no build-up, no coiling tension. The orgasm simply happened, detonated by his balls-smacking thrusts. Orgasms were a violent, convulsing ripple that clenched around him and hugged his cock with frantic, involuntary pulses. Her entire body seized up, her toes curling into the couch cushions. A fresh flood of her own arousal slicked his pounding length.
"Y-yeah… that's it… cum on my cock, Juri," Henry groaned, his own politeness evaporating under the primal need she'd unleashed in him. He left her hips to grab her tits. They were bigger than they looked.
"H-haah! Is that your idea of—" His fingers pinched her nipples. Juri Han came right then and there. She arched. It took her a good ten seconds to swing her head back down to look at him. "F-fuck! You're so naughty, aren't ya!?"
No matter how far she was, no matter how much she taunted him, Jur knew she was going to feel this dick for the rest of her life. She knew this was life-changing. That him smacking her ass with one hand while groping her left tit with the other while slamming his cock up was not something any other male could do for her.
No, this balls-smacking, titty-groping, ass-smacking fuck was an anamoly.
"F-fuck! Fucking—CUMMIING~!!!" She tried not to make noise. But she ended up whimpering. Even Henry was shocked to hear and ended up pinching her pink nipples weaker but with a stronger thrust. "FUCK—fine! I-I'm your naughty girl. I am! I am!"
Annnd…
"I'M CUMMIIING~!!"
As the second…ah, no, wait, twenty-second climax began to recede, a flicker of her old defiance sparked. 'Juri Han, what the fuck are you doing! You are still in control! I am still in control—!'
She grinned, looked down at him, tried to match his rhythm, to take over the riding, to prove she could handle him.
"Slow and easy, or fast and crazy, I'll fuck you however you like—"
It was a catastrophic failure. The moment she tried to clench her inner muscles, to dictate the pace, the sensations magnified a thousandfold. A dizzying, twenty-third orgasm blindsided her, this one a deep, internal quake that felt like her very soul was being shaken apart. She slumped forward, her sweat-slicked chest pressing against his, her face buried in his neck. A broken, sobbing moan was all she could manage.
"I caaaan't! I can't handle it! This dick! This diiiick!" Her tongue hung out. She gasped. Juri Han sounded exhausted already. But it couldn't be—
"WHY? WHYYYY? WHY DO YOU DRIVE ME SO CRAZY? WHY DOES THIS DICK MAKE FEEL SO FUCKING STUPIIIID~!!!"
She heaved. She lost her breath again. Her titties were bouncing. "Fuck me more I'M GOING TO CUM!!!!
"You feel so fucking good, Juri," he panted into her ear, his thrusts never faltering, never slowing. "So tight and hot…! I-I'm not gonna last…"
Oh fuck, he was right. She could feel him swelling inside her, the thick head of his cock pulsing against her deepest point. The pressure built to an unbearable peak, a tsunami gathering force.
"Your magic fucking dick better cum inside me, Henry! It better!"
"It will!" He grunted, grinning up at her. "I will!"
Henry slammed her down onto him one final time. His hips stuttered, grinding against her ass as he erupted.
It wasn't a few spurts. It was a seemingly endless, hot, thick flood that gushed deep into her womb. She could feel the incredible volume of it, each powerful jet painting her insides with his seed. It was hot, so impossibly hot, and it just kept coming, a torrential release that marked her, claimed her, filled her completely.
'Am I going to get pregnant?' Juri asked between what must have been either the longest, strongest orgasm of her life and ten orgasms shoved into one. 'Fuuuck, I don't fucking caaaareee~!!'
Her own overstimulated pussy clenched around him, drawing out every last drop until she felt utterly, drenchingly full.
Juri fell on top of him as a boneless, breathless heap. She had nothing left. No strength, no defiance, no clever retorts. She was completely and utterly fucked senseless. Her world had shrunk to the feel of his cum leaking out of her, the thrum of his heartbeat against her chest, and the gentle, almost reverent way his hands cradled her ass, his fingers stroking through her damp hair.
"Juri?" he whispered, his voice soft and kind again, the beast momentarily sated. "Are you…was that alright?"
His grip on her ass had softened to a gentle caress. But his cock, miraculously, remained completely hard inside her, twitching with the last few weak pulses.
Henry could go for more. He would go for him.
And as Juri Han looked up at him, panting and exhausted, she smiled. Not smirked—smiled. She liked this. She liked being overwhelmed. She…
"...love you…"
...kissed him on the lips and confessed.