gang bang
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My Favorite Bang free porn video
Maybe I was giving up.
I was five months into my year of teaching in Korea, and all I had managed with the ladies was a spontaneous blowjob in a kiss booth on Hooker Hill. Although it was the best blowjob of my life, the girl turned out to be a bit of a flake. Every time I called her, she encouraged me to visit her in the kiss booth again. But that was an expensive dead end, and if I kept going back for whatever she offered, I would have started to hate myself. If this was the most I could get out of the bar scene in Korea, after hitting it up three to four times a week for months with my pal Mark, then clearly it wasn’t for me.
So, I naturally fell into the habit of hitting up one of the most alluring and heavenly venues Korea can offer to a nerdy, skinny guy who grew up spending too much time in front of computer screens: the PC bang.
People familiar with Korea refer to a PC café as a PC bang—pronounced like the word “bong,” which means “room” in Korean—because they are quite different from a normal PC café. A PC café exists in any country that lacks enough wealth for the average person to buy their own computer. Korea was certainly this kind of country during the boom of the internet, and with that demand for computer usage being thrown into a gaming obsessed culture, the PC bang became a permanent and unique fixture in the culture, where the main purpose was not to browse the internet, but to game, and game hard.
The first PC bang I ever wandered into, out of curiosity and with no intention of ever returning a second time, became my go-to locale for gaming. I liked it because the screens weren’t so big that I had to strain my neck and eyes when glancing up at the corners for important stats and timers. The chairs weren’t too fluffy and comfy—a gamer never wants to get too cozy in front of the computer; he has to remain upright and fully attentive. I liked how dark it was inside. The smell of microwaved noodles always flushed over me when I first walked in. This seemed to be the place for guys who didn’t go to PC bangs for flair or relaxation. If Rocky had been a gamer rather than a boxer, this is the place he would have chosen to come up in.
Three to four times a week, I transitioned the time when I was normally drinking at bars until two in the morning to gaming in PC bangs until that time or even later. I could easily become a night owl because my teaching job was an after school gig that started late in the afternoon. I figured I was using this place as a temporary escape until I figured out what to actually do with my time in Korea, or maybe I would make friendships with some guys who could speak English pretty well. Whatever I was doing there, I knew I couldn’t hope to find a date. But, ironically, the first friend I ever made from going there was a girl. She was obviously the girlfriend of the guy who owned the place—or co-owned it. I never really knew who was in charge, but the desk was always occupied by one of three guys, and if it was still early in the evening, the same couple of girls would be hanging out with them.
I first learned her name was Minjoo when she showed me how to register a username on the kiosk, so that I could rent a computer as a member rather than pay guest prices.
“Thank you!” I told her, unsure if she even understood me.
“You,” she pointed at me. “Everyday.” She laughed.
“Hey, not every day.”
I wanted to talk to her more, but she didn’t understand anything I said beyond simple words. Also, her boyfriend was always standing nearby anytime we talked, and I wasn’t sure what he thought of me, though he usually smiled when I looked at him.
She wasn’t the formal and studious type, which was the norm for young Koreans. She had a single red streak in her long black hair, to match the frames of her glasses, and she often wore sleeveless shirts that partially exposed a tattoo of a bird near her neck. By her culture’s standards, she was a rebellious outcast. By my standards, she was cool, mysterious, fun to attempt conversations with, and quickly becoming the most alluring aspect of my favorite PC bang. One time when I was about an hour into my gaming session she walked up to me at the computer—the first time she had ever tracked me down among the fifty PCs in the café—and she proceeded to show me that she had retouched the red highlight in her hair and had added one. With the help of a translation app on her phone, I was able to tell her it looked great.
I figured she wanted to talk with me a lot so that she could practice her English. Her boyfriend seemed unconcerned, perhaps even a bit enthusiastic about us trying to communicate. But for me it was awkward, being the only white guy in the PC bang and drawing stares from the guys at nearby computers. Minjoo and her friend would often break into laughter after I said something, and I had no idea why. Was I strange to them, or hard to understand? Was Minjoo trying to flirt with me? Maybe the friend was the girl dating the owner, and Minjoo was just hanging around because she had nothing else to do. Both of the guys who ran the place seemed much older than the girls; maybe they were family. Maybe she didn’t start showing up so often until we first started talking—my memory of when I had started noticing her was quite blurry.
Too many possibilities, and too many questions. If I could just talk to her normally, so many questions would have been easily answered. Instead, trying to talk to her started giving me anxiety attacks, so for the next few days I would enter the café, say a quick hello, then make my way to a computer. But Minjoo and her friend would track me down, English textbook in hand, and say to me between their giggling, “Tim—pronunciation, please,” and one of them would shove the book in my face with a word under her finger. She even started playing games of Starcraft with me, and she was decent at the game. I couldn’t avoid her anywhere in the PC bang, and I couldn’t help thinking she was the coolest girl I had met.
Then we became Facebook friends when she caught me browsing the site and asked me to type my full name into her phone. When she walked away, I immediately accepted the friend request and jumped to her profile. I glanced over her pictures, checked out her status updates, all in an effort to convince myself that I wasn’t stalking and didn’t care about her answer to one particular question in her “about me” section.
Relationship status: In an open relationship.
Open relationship…
I had to think about this for a while.
---
“You’re way overthinking this, mate,” Mark practically yelled at me.
I shook my head. “Why would I expect you to say anything different?”
He slammed his beer on the table and leaned in, giving me the crazy eyes. “Fucker! You come to me for advice? I’m gonna give you the truth.”
We were talking my situation with “the PC bang girl” over in our favorite pub. Of course, he suggested I should assume any girl is single until she tells me otherwise, and that Facebook relationship statuses mean nothing. “Hey, maybe she even meant to say, ‘Open to having a relationship? Huh? I mean, if her English isn’t that good.”
I gave him a deadpan look. “She uses the website in Korean, I’m sure.”
“You don’t know! Maybe she uses it in English to learn. Either way, open relationship means what it means, mate. It’s open. She’s dating a main guy, but she can see other guys if she wants. He can see other women if he wants. They are all about having fun while being young. This is perfect for you. This is what you need to learn how to do. She can teach you!”
“I just—” I put my hands on my head. “This is too strange for me. I just want to date a girl, and maybe we could teach each other a different language. I don’t want to get into anything complicated.”
“Maybe I could help you out. Bring my by this place where you talk to her, and I’ll ask her out.”
“What? No!”
“Ha ha!” he took a gulp of his beer. “Oh, I know. You should ask her out on a date, and if she says yes, ask her if the boyfriend wants to watch.”
“Watch the date happen?”
“No…you know what I mean.”
“What? Really?”
“Some guys are into that stuff, Tim. Look, I’ll tell you a little story. A couple of years ago, back in London. I was a bull for the couple two doors down from me. You know what that is?”
“No.”
He started making exaggerated motions while talking. “Means I would get in there, and we’d have a couple of drinks together—all three of us. And then, the wife would make her man sit in a chair, and she’d give him a little strip tease. Then she would blow me, right there in front of him. And after that, I would fuck her for half an hour, while he watched.”
“What the hell? She would make him watch that?”
“It’s a fetish, mate. The guy’s just as into it as the girl.”
“I don’t think I could ever do something like that.”
“Well, her man would also send her over to my place by herself—sometimes as the warm up, sometimes to finish her off. It depended on their mood. Guys get off on the idea of their woman being so sex crazed that she needs more than one man to satisfy her. They don’t worry that they’re missing out. They feel like they’re giving their girl a treat to fuck other guys. It makes them proud.”
“You have some strange explanations for people’s behavior, man.”
He finished his beer and smiled at me. “But I can tell it’s got the wheels churning in your little head. You’re thinking about going through with this, aren’t you? Ha ha! Come on, let’s get out of here.”
We went out into the street, where night had fallen, and the lights of the nightclubs up the street were beginning to infect the air. Cars struggled to move at a decent pace among the mobs of well-dressed guys and beautiful women wearing skin-tight dresses that barely covered their hips. The women here certainly like to show off their legs. And every one of them—not most of them—every one of them was thin and had flawless skin.
Mark put his arm around me as we observed the scenery. “Look, Tim, there’s something you need to remember about being here. See all these guys walking by us? Their dick is much smaller than yours.”
I laughed.
“I’m serious! I went to a bathhouse in this country already, and I saw a lot of Korean men naked in there. I don’t like to stereotype a lot, but this one is rather true. On average, white guys have bigger dicks. And see all these gorgeous women walking by us? They are all curious about what that’s like. They all want to hook up with a white guy at least once in their life, or even a black guy if they’re brave enough. Why don’t you fulfill that fantasy for this chick you’ve met?”
I felt a sense of power washing over me, one so primal that I felt a bit embarrassed to be thinking this way, but it made me feel enabled, maybe even a bit obligated, to walk up to any of these gorgeous women walking by me, and introduce myself. My curiosity and optimism about dating in this country had been fully revived, thanks to Mark’s sleazy mind.
---
Minjoo and I began chatting on Facebook regularly, and with the help of Google Translate, we could finally communicate in complete sentences. She was able to write in Korean, and I responded in English. The translations weren’t perfectly accurate; they usually came back as fragmented sentences, or with terrible grammar, but I could figure out what she meant. And I didn’t feel anxiety when talking with her anymore, whether online or at the PC bang, which I wasn’t frequenting quite so often anymore. Instead, I spoke to her with a bit of aggression and urgency. She asked me why I didn’t show up at the PC bang much anymore and told me she missed me. I immediately responded with “Well, let’s meet up sometime, have an English lesson.”
Judging by the emoticons and explanation marks she dropped in the chat, she seemed to like the idea quite a bit.
I also asked her about her “open relationship” status on Facebook.
Minjoo: Yes. It is open
Tim: Why?
Minjoo: My boyfriend lives in Incheon. He’s very far from me.
That exchange alone made my dick bulge. Her boyfriend didn’t even live in the city, and learning that eliminated any slim doubts I had about whether we could hook up. After a bit more chatting, we planned to meet in a big coffee shop near the PC bang.
She didn’t wear her usual outfit consisting of skinny jeans and a tight shirt. For the first time, I saw her wearing a loose skirt and a flowery button-up. We didn’t get much done in the way of her learning English. Neither of us cared about doing a lesson, as it was just the reason to meet, and now we had to pretend this was dreadful for a while before we decided to leave and get food.
“Ugh—so hard,” she said many times.
I didn’t miss the opportunity to entertain myself. “Yes, so hard,” I would say. “Me too. It’s so hard for me too.”
She didn’t get the joke, at all.
Ten minutes after we hit up a burger joint and ate mostly in silence, we were strolling into my one-room apartment, because I had told her, “Let’s play a game,” and she responded with delight. I kept reminding myself not to have expectations. We were just getting to know each other, and the only expectation I had was for us to be sitting awkwardly at a table, tied to our phones in attempts to translate each other’s words.
But we found a couple of ways to interact quite naturally without requiring words. The first was through music. When she saw my laptop on the table with a couple of decently sized speakers plugged into it, she got excited and began playing her favorite songs off the internet for me to hear. They were Korean pop songs, with bright, ear candy flavor to them. She half-danced to the tunes while sitting across the table from me, and I watched, in awe of her spontaneous and cheery demeanor.
“Do you like?” she asked, halfway through each song.
“Yeah. Fun.”
I picked out a couple of smooth, sensual electronica tunes for her to groove with. We were using music to tell each other our moods, then acted them out through dance. She pulled me up from my chair and encouraged me to sway with her in the small open space between my bed and the table. Normally I would think that two people dancing in a tiny apartment room like this was awkward and forced, but for us it happened naturally. Without the ability to have conversation, we had to skip all those first and second date routines of asking boring questions to each other, and we got right down to what matters when two people consider each other for romantic interests, saying through the way we touched each other on the arms and locked eyes and smiled: I find you attractive, a delight to be with, and I want more of you, more and more.
I felt the smoothness of her skin, smelled the fragrance emanating off her hair. We played a slow ballad, and she pressed her crotch against my leg while embracing my back firmly. I knew it then, she wanted to fuck me. She wanted to see how big my cock was. And she was going to find out by the end of the night.
When we wore out our desire to dance, we fell into a stillness for a while, and maybe I should have made a move then, but I hesitated too long, and she broke the silence with, “Game!”
“Okay,” I said.
The game I had in mind was Cards Against Humanity, where the players turn over cards with sentences that prompt them with an idea and a blank space or two. They use other cards to complete those sentences, often leading to crude and offensive remarks. We played slowly and with a lot of rough patches, as she had to translate a lot of the words on her phone, and even then she could only understand about half of the sentences I played. But this spurred us to interact through gestures and facial expressions. I explained a grenade to her by pretending to throw one at her, then making sounds of a bomb exploding. I mimed playing different instruments for her. I acted out animal sounds. When the meaning of a word clicked in her head, she always gave a loud, “Ahhh!” and clapped her hands. If she understood the humor of whatever remark I put together with the cards, she laughed, full of enthusiasm, while covering her mouth with both hands.
She even tried to make her own sentences with the cards. The results were nonsense, but it left me a good opportunity to tease her, which she found funny. We had been so loosened up from the dancing that everything we did was goofy and uninhibited. I pulled the table close to the bed, so that we could sit on the end of it next to each other while playing the game. My heart started pounding as I thought about a particular card that I knew was in the deck, wondering how I could play it if I drew it. When I finally did, the perfect prompt card came up:
‘A romantic candlelit dinner would be incomplete without _____.’
The card I placed on top of it: ‘A big cock.’
As she typed the sentence into her phone, adrenaline surged through my body, and my dick got rock hard.
“Oh,” she said flatly, a bit confused, then she mimed the sound and motions of a chicken, awaiting my confirmation.
“No. Slang word.” I smiled, as I hesitated and the moment grew intense. I grabbed my dick, which was nearly bursting out of my pants, and shook it.
She gasped, covering her mouth and laughing.
This was my moment. There could be no hesitation, other than having just enough to cast a seductive and patient tone about my movements. I unbuttoned my pants, unzipped slowly, then looked at her.
“Ohh!” Her voice rose, and she gave me hum of delightful approval, urging me to keep going.
I slipped my pants and boxers down to my knees, and my dick sprang out.
She gasped again, sounding more excited than she was nervous, and she stared at my dick like it had the power to hypnotize her. She timidly placed her hands on my knees and waited, like she was unsure if I was seducing her or just helping her get the meaning of the word ‘cock.’
“Very big,” she said quietly, then hummed again.
She seemed mesmerized. She stared at my dick for a good thirty seconds, then looked back at me, as if she was begging for permission to touch it, to experience it, have it shoved fully inside her pussy. I was so horny that pre-cum was already oozing from the tip of it. I took her hands and moved them to the shaft, and from there she slowly began to proceed on her own with stroking it, dabbing her fingers in the pre-cum and rubbing it around the tip. Now that I had given her the greenlight, she didn’t show any sign of shyness. She kept jerking me off with one hand, and with the other she finished stripping me, first pulling my pants off, then unbuttoning my shirt and pulling off my undershirt. She got me completely naked, all the while never taking her right hand off my dick, and she was still fully clothed herself.
I returned the favor for her, first removing her shirt and skirt, then I took a moment to adore her slightly stocky frame, and all her feminine curves. I took off her bra, to find her tits were small but wonderfully perky, a joy for sucking. Under her panties, she had the tiniest patch of soft, thin hair, and was dripping wet. Finally, we were fully naked in my bed together, and I felt a bit like an animal in the wild, having begun a lovemaking session with someone that I had barely ever talked to. Only now did we kiss. I pulled her light body into mine with ease, and squeezed her soft skin.
We drifted from having our backs against the wall to a horizontal position, her on top of me. She grabbed my cock and eased her pussy around the tip of it. Even though we were both so wet, we had to begin slowly, to let the tightness of her pussy adjust to me. I lay back and let her control the pace, let her use me like I was the best sex toy she had ever stumbled upon. Once she got her hips moving, she only dared to go halfway down my dick with each thrust. She moaned lightly, in a high pitch, like her voice was being squeezed in the same manner as her pussy. Her wetness was dripping down my cock and accumulating on the top of my balls, which I dipped my fingers into and let her taste. She hummed her approval as she sucked on my fingers and sped up her thrusting. I began to move with her, and we developed a comfortable rhythm, as I pulled her chest closer to me so I could resume sucking on her perfect nipples.
Her pussy was steaming hot, and so tight around my dick I could feel every detail of her insides convulsing, until she got so wet and thrust so rapidly that I knew she was cumming. A deep moan followed and confirmed this thought. I grabbed her hips, digging my fingers into her ass cheeks, and kept thrusting her on my dick at a similar pace until I pushed myself over the edge of cumming myself. Wave after wave of jizz, saved up for almost a week, exploded into her and dripped down to my balls and thighs. I hadn’t relieved myself for so long, in combination with such incredible sex, it was the most intense and burning hot orgasm I had ever experienced.
And I had plenty more still needing to be unleashed.
I barely lost my erection, as I flipped on top of her, ran my hands across her stomach and breasts for a moment, then rubbed the remains of our cum into her vulva. Our scent was floral and sharp, so alluring that both of us were compelled to dip our fingers into the mixture and have a taste. We smiled at each other, and I spread her legs and dug my face into her soft and slick vulva, determined to ensure that this night would be the most passionate and orgasmic night of Minjoo’s life.
I pressed my lips firmly into her, sucking intensely, and she moaned in a deep tone for a brief instant before the air slipped from the grasp of her lungs. She clung one hand to her breasts, while the other inched across the top of her pelvis and began to join me in stimulating her clit, so that she could reach an orgasm more wild and lengthy than her first. She pulled my hair and scratched the back of my skull, clenching her thighs to my cheeks.
Our eyes met again. She grabbed my hand and urged me forth to plant a kiss on her lips, and she broke away to take a glance at my cock, seeing that I was ready again, and she looked at me with the urgent desire to be fucked. This time, I plunged my cock fully into her. I went slowly at first, to let her acclimate and realize how well she could handle it. I pressed my hands on each of her tiny shoulders, and she wrapped her heels around the backs of my thighs, so that she could tighten herself toward me, because now she wanted me to give her the most aggressive and fast fucking she could receive from such a big cock, even if it meant having a little pain spur on the feeling of pleasure. She kept her eyes closed, mouth clenched, while gripping the sides of the bed, and she tried not to scream too loudly. But when she reached her third orgasm, a full, hearty scream stormed out of the top of her lungs; she breathed rapidly while I pounded on her vulva in quick, short bursts, then she let out another scream that trailed off into a moan of delight and exhaustion. It was the most intense satisfaction I had ever given a woman by far, and to put my final mark on the work I had done, I pulled my cock out of her and let loose another gracious load of jizz onto her stomach and tits.
And we returned to that lucid state of being two strangely civilized young people, with no ability to really communicate. We didn’t cuddle for long, didn’t make an attempt to talk about ourselves or what this occasion meant. We both knew we were fit to be a pair of fuck buddies that could grow together without words. So we showered, dressed in fresh clothes, and headed into the early and electric night, where the dance floors of late night clubs could provide the medium for us to keep expressing our excitement for each other.
I was five months into my year of teaching in Korea, and all I had managed with the ladies was a spontaneous blowjob in a kiss booth on Hooker Hill. Although it was the best blowjob of my life, the girl turned out to be a bit of a flake. Every time I called her, she encouraged me to visit her in the kiss booth again. But that was an expensive dead end, and if I kept going back for whatever she offered, I would have started to hate myself. If this was the most I could get out of the bar scene in Korea, after hitting it up three to four times a week for months with my pal Mark, then clearly it wasn’t for me.
So, I naturally fell into the habit of hitting up one of the most alluring and heavenly venues Korea can offer to a nerdy, skinny guy who grew up spending too much time in front of computer screens: the PC bang.
People familiar with Korea refer to a PC café as a PC bang—pronounced like the word “bong,” which means “room” in Korean—because they are quite different from a normal PC café. A PC café exists in any country that lacks enough wealth for the average person to buy their own computer. Korea was certainly this kind of country during the boom of the internet, and with that demand for computer usage being thrown into a gaming obsessed culture, the PC bang became a permanent and unique fixture in the culture, where the main purpose was not to browse the internet, but to game, and game hard.
The first PC bang I ever wandered into, out of curiosity and with no intention of ever returning a second time, became my go-to locale for gaming. I liked it because the screens weren’t so big that I had to strain my neck and eyes when glancing up at the corners for important stats and timers. The chairs weren’t too fluffy and comfy—a gamer never wants to get too cozy in front of the computer; he has to remain upright and fully attentive. I liked how dark it was inside. The smell of microwaved noodles always flushed over me when I first walked in. This seemed to be the place for guys who didn’t go to PC bangs for flair or relaxation. If Rocky had been a gamer rather than a boxer, this is the place he would have chosen to come up in.
Three to four times a week, I transitioned the time when I was normally drinking at bars until two in the morning to gaming in PC bangs until that time or even later. I could easily become a night owl because my teaching job was an after school gig that started late in the afternoon. I figured I was using this place as a temporary escape until I figured out what to actually do with my time in Korea, or maybe I would make friendships with some guys who could speak English pretty well. Whatever I was doing there, I knew I couldn’t hope to find a date. But, ironically, the first friend I ever made from going there was a girl. She was obviously the girlfriend of the guy who owned the place—or co-owned it. I never really knew who was in charge, but the desk was always occupied by one of three guys, and if it was still early in the evening, the same couple of girls would be hanging out with them.
I first learned her name was Minjoo when she showed me how to register a username on the kiosk, so that I could rent a computer as a member rather than pay guest prices.
“Thank you!” I told her, unsure if she even understood me.
“You,” she pointed at me. “Everyday.” She laughed.
“Hey, not every day.”
I wanted to talk to her more, but she didn’t understand anything I said beyond simple words. Also, her boyfriend was always standing nearby anytime we talked, and I wasn’t sure what he thought of me, though he usually smiled when I looked at him.
She wasn’t the formal and studious type, which was the norm for young Koreans. She had a single red streak in her long black hair, to match the frames of her glasses, and she often wore sleeveless shirts that partially exposed a tattoo of a bird near her neck. By her culture’s standards, she was a rebellious outcast. By my standards, she was cool, mysterious, fun to attempt conversations with, and quickly becoming the most alluring aspect of my favorite PC bang. One time when I was about an hour into my gaming session she walked up to me at the computer—the first time she had ever tracked me down among the fifty PCs in the café—and she proceeded to show me that she had retouched the red highlight in her hair and had added one. With the help of a translation app on her phone, I was able to tell her it looked great.
I figured she wanted to talk with me a lot so that she could practice her English. Her boyfriend seemed unconcerned, perhaps even a bit enthusiastic about us trying to communicate. But for me it was awkward, being the only white guy in the PC bang and drawing stares from the guys at nearby computers. Minjoo and her friend would often break into laughter after I said something, and I had no idea why. Was I strange to them, or hard to understand? Was Minjoo trying to flirt with me? Maybe the friend was the girl dating the owner, and Minjoo was just hanging around because she had nothing else to do. Both of the guys who ran the place seemed much older than the girls; maybe they were family. Maybe she didn’t start showing up so often until we first started talking—my memory of when I had started noticing her was quite blurry.
Too many possibilities, and too many questions. If I could just talk to her normally, so many questions would have been easily answered. Instead, trying to talk to her started giving me anxiety attacks, so for the next few days I would enter the café, say a quick hello, then make my way to a computer. But Minjoo and her friend would track me down, English textbook in hand, and say to me between their giggling, “Tim—pronunciation, please,” and one of them would shove the book in my face with a word under her finger. She even started playing games of Starcraft with me, and she was decent at the game. I couldn’t avoid her anywhere in the PC bang, and I couldn’t help thinking she was the coolest girl I had met.
Then we became Facebook friends when she caught me browsing the site and asked me to type my full name into her phone. When she walked away, I immediately accepted the friend request and jumped to her profile. I glanced over her pictures, checked out her status updates, all in an effort to convince myself that I wasn’t stalking and didn’t care about her answer to one particular question in her “about me” section.
Relationship status: In an open relationship.
Open relationship…
I had to think about this for a while.
---
“You’re way overthinking this, mate,” Mark practically yelled at me.
I shook my head. “Why would I expect you to say anything different?”
He slammed his beer on the table and leaned in, giving me the crazy eyes. “Fucker! You come to me for advice? I’m gonna give you the truth.”
We were talking my situation with “the PC bang girl” over in our favorite pub. Of course, he suggested I should assume any girl is single until she tells me otherwise, and that Facebook relationship statuses mean nothing. “Hey, maybe she even meant to say, ‘Open to having a relationship? Huh? I mean, if her English isn’t that good.”
I gave him a deadpan look. “She uses the website in Korean, I’m sure.”
“You don’t know! Maybe she uses it in English to learn. Either way, open relationship means what it means, mate. It’s open. She’s dating a main guy, but she can see other guys if she wants. He can see other women if he wants. They are all about having fun while being young. This is perfect for you. This is what you need to learn how to do. She can teach you!”
“I just—” I put my hands on my head. “This is too strange for me. I just want to date a girl, and maybe we could teach each other a different language. I don’t want to get into anything complicated.”
“Maybe I could help you out. Bring my by this place where you talk to her, and I’ll ask her out.”
“What? No!”
“Ha ha!” he took a gulp of his beer. “Oh, I know. You should ask her out on a date, and if she says yes, ask her if the boyfriend wants to watch.”
“Watch the date happen?”
“No…you know what I mean.”
“What? Really?”
“Some guys are into that stuff, Tim. Look, I’ll tell you a little story. A couple of years ago, back in London. I was a bull for the couple two doors down from me. You know what that is?”
“No.”
He started making exaggerated motions while talking. “Means I would get in there, and we’d have a couple of drinks together—all three of us. And then, the wife would make her man sit in a chair, and she’d give him a little strip tease. Then she would blow me, right there in front of him. And after that, I would fuck her for half an hour, while he watched.”
“What the hell? She would make him watch that?”
“It’s a fetish, mate. The guy’s just as into it as the girl.”
“I don’t think I could ever do something like that.”
“Well, her man would also send her over to my place by herself—sometimes as the warm up, sometimes to finish her off. It depended on their mood. Guys get off on the idea of their woman being so sex crazed that she needs more than one man to satisfy her. They don’t worry that they’re missing out. They feel like they’re giving their girl a treat to fuck other guys. It makes them proud.”
“You have some strange explanations for people’s behavior, man.”
He finished his beer and smiled at me. “But I can tell it’s got the wheels churning in your little head. You’re thinking about going through with this, aren’t you? Ha ha! Come on, let’s get out of here.”
We went out into the street, where night had fallen, and the lights of the nightclubs up the street were beginning to infect the air. Cars struggled to move at a decent pace among the mobs of well-dressed guys and beautiful women wearing skin-tight dresses that barely covered their hips. The women here certainly like to show off their legs. And every one of them—not most of them—every one of them was thin and had flawless skin.
Mark put his arm around me as we observed the scenery. “Look, Tim, there’s something you need to remember about being here. See all these guys walking by us? Their dick is much smaller than yours.”
I laughed.
“I’m serious! I went to a bathhouse in this country already, and I saw a lot of Korean men naked in there. I don’t like to stereotype a lot, but this one is rather true. On average, white guys have bigger dicks. And see all these gorgeous women walking by us? They are all curious about what that’s like. They all want to hook up with a white guy at least once in their life, or even a black guy if they’re brave enough. Why don’t you fulfill that fantasy for this chick you’ve met?”
I felt a sense of power washing over me, one so primal that I felt a bit embarrassed to be thinking this way, but it made me feel enabled, maybe even a bit obligated, to walk up to any of these gorgeous women walking by me, and introduce myself. My curiosity and optimism about dating in this country had been fully revived, thanks to Mark’s sleazy mind.
---
Minjoo and I began chatting on Facebook regularly, and with the help of Google Translate, we could finally communicate in complete sentences. She was able to write in Korean, and I responded in English. The translations weren’t perfectly accurate; they usually came back as fragmented sentences, or with terrible grammar, but I could figure out what she meant. And I didn’t feel anxiety when talking with her anymore, whether online or at the PC bang, which I wasn’t frequenting quite so often anymore. Instead, I spoke to her with a bit of aggression and urgency. She asked me why I didn’t show up at the PC bang much anymore and told me she missed me. I immediately responded with “Well, let’s meet up sometime, have an English lesson.”
Judging by the emoticons and explanation marks she dropped in the chat, she seemed to like the idea quite a bit.
I also asked her about her “open relationship” status on Facebook.
Minjoo: Yes. It is open
Tim: Why?
Minjoo: My boyfriend lives in Incheon. He’s very far from me.
That exchange alone made my dick bulge. Her boyfriend didn’t even live in the city, and learning that eliminated any slim doubts I had about whether we could hook up. After a bit more chatting, we planned to meet in a big coffee shop near the PC bang.
She didn’t wear her usual outfit consisting of skinny jeans and a tight shirt. For the first time, I saw her wearing a loose skirt and a flowery button-up. We didn’t get much done in the way of her learning English. Neither of us cared about doing a lesson, as it was just the reason to meet, and now we had to pretend this was dreadful for a while before we decided to leave and get food.
“Ugh—so hard,” she said many times.
I didn’t miss the opportunity to entertain myself. “Yes, so hard,” I would say. “Me too. It’s so hard for me too.”
She didn’t get the joke, at all.
Ten minutes after we hit up a burger joint and ate mostly in silence, we were strolling into my one-room apartment, because I had told her, “Let’s play a game,” and she responded with delight. I kept reminding myself not to have expectations. We were just getting to know each other, and the only expectation I had was for us to be sitting awkwardly at a table, tied to our phones in attempts to translate each other’s words.
But we found a couple of ways to interact quite naturally without requiring words. The first was through music. When she saw my laptop on the table with a couple of decently sized speakers plugged into it, she got excited and began playing her favorite songs off the internet for me to hear. They were Korean pop songs, with bright, ear candy flavor to them. She half-danced to the tunes while sitting across the table from me, and I watched, in awe of her spontaneous and cheery demeanor.
“Do you like?” she asked, halfway through each song.
“Yeah. Fun.”
I picked out a couple of smooth, sensual electronica tunes for her to groove with. We were using music to tell each other our moods, then acted them out through dance. She pulled me up from my chair and encouraged me to sway with her in the small open space between my bed and the table. Normally I would think that two people dancing in a tiny apartment room like this was awkward and forced, but for us it happened naturally. Without the ability to have conversation, we had to skip all those first and second date routines of asking boring questions to each other, and we got right down to what matters when two people consider each other for romantic interests, saying through the way we touched each other on the arms and locked eyes and smiled: I find you attractive, a delight to be with, and I want more of you, more and more.
I felt the smoothness of her skin, smelled the fragrance emanating off her hair. We played a slow ballad, and she pressed her crotch against my leg while embracing my back firmly. I knew it then, she wanted to fuck me. She wanted to see how big my cock was. And she was going to find out by the end of the night.
When we wore out our desire to dance, we fell into a stillness for a while, and maybe I should have made a move then, but I hesitated too long, and she broke the silence with, “Game!”
“Okay,” I said.
The game I had in mind was Cards Against Humanity, where the players turn over cards with sentences that prompt them with an idea and a blank space or two. They use other cards to complete those sentences, often leading to crude and offensive remarks. We played slowly and with a lot of rough patches, as she had to translate a lot of the words on her phone, and even then she could only understand about half of the sentences I played. But this spurred us to interact through gestures and facial expressions. I explained a grenade to her by pretending to throw one at her, then making sounds of a bomb exploding. I mimed playing different instruments for her. I acted out animal sounds. When the meaning of a word clicked in her head, she always gave a loud, “Ahhh!” and clapped her hands. If she understood the humor of whatever remark I put together with the cards, she laughed, full of enthusiasm, while covering her mouth with both hands.
She even tried to make her own sentences with the cards. The results were nonsense, but it left me a good opportunity to tease her, which she found funny. We had been so loosened up from the dancing that everything we did was goofy and uninhibited. I pulled the table close to the bed, so that we could sit on the end of it next to each other while playing the game. My heart started pounding as I thought about a particular card that I knew was in the deck, wondering how I could play it if I drew it. When I finally did, the perfect prompt card came up:
‘A romantic candlelit dinner would be incomplete without _____.’
The card I placed on top of it: ‘A big cock.’
As she typed the sentence into her phone, adrenaline surged through my body, and my dick got rock hard.
“Oh,” she said flatly, a bit confused, then she mimed the sound and motions of a chicken, awaiting my confirmation.
“No. Slang word.” I smiled, as I hesitated and the moment grew intense. I grabbed my dick, which was nearly bursting out of my pants, and shook it.
She gasped, covering her mouth and laughing.
This was my moment. There could be no hesitation, other than having just enough to cast a seductive and patient tone about my movements. I unbuttoned my pants, unzipped slowly, then looked at her.
“Ohh!” Her voice rose, and she gave me hum of delightful approval, urging me to keep going.
I slipped my pants and boxers down to my knees, and my dick sprang out.
She gasped again, sounding more excited than she was nervous, and she stared at my dick like it had the power to hypnotize her. She timidly placed her hands on my knees and waited, like she was unsure if I was seducing her or just helping her get the meaning of the word ‘cock.’
“Very big,” she said quietly, then hummed again.
She seemed mesmerized. She stared at my dick for a good thirty seconds, then looked back at me, as if she was begging for permission to touch it, to experience it, have it shoved fully inside her pussy. I was so horny that pre-cum was already oozing from the tip of it. I took her hands and moved them to the shaft, and from there she slowly began to proceed on her own with stroking it, dabbing her fingers in the pre-cum and rubbing it around the tip. Now that I had given her the greenlight, she didn’t show any sign of shyness. She kept jerking me off with one hand, and with the other she finished stripping me, first pulling my pants off, then unbuttoning my shirt and pulling off my undershirt. She got me completely naked, all the while never taking her right hand off my dick, and she was still fully clothed herself.
I returned the favor for her, first removing her shirt and skirt, then I took a moment to adore her slightly stocky frame, and all her feminine curves. I took off her bra, to find her tits were small but wonderfully perky, a joy for sucking. Under her panties, she had the tiniest patch of soft, thin hair, and was dripping wet. Finally, we were fully naked in my bed together, and I felt a bit like an animal in the wild, having begun a lovemaking session with someone that I had barely ever talked to. Only now did we kiss. I pulled her light body into mine with ease, and squeezed her soft skin.
We drifted from having our backs against the wall to a horizontal position, her on top of me. She grabbed my cock and eased her pussy around the tip of it. Even though we were both so wet, we had to begin slowly, to let the tightness of her pussy adjust to me. I lay back and let her control the pace, let her use me like I was the best sex toy she had ever stumbled upon. Once she got her hips moving, she only dared to go halfway down my dick with each thrust. She moaned lightly, in a high pitch, like her voice was being squeezed in the same manner as her pussy. Her wetness was dripping down my cock and accumulating on the top of my balls, which I dipped my fingers into and let her taste. She hummed her approval as she sucked on my fingers and sped up her thrusting. I began to move with her, and we developed a comfortable rhythm, as I pulled her chest closer to me so I could resume sucking on her perfect nipples.
Her pussy was steaming hot, and so tight around my dick I could feel every detail of her insides convulsing, until she got so wet and thrust so rapidly that I knew she was cumming. A deep moan followed and confirmed this thought. I grabbed her hips, digging my fingers into her ass cheeks, and kept thrusting her on my dick at a similar pace until I pushed myself over the edge of cumming myself. Wave after wave of jizz, saved up for almost a week, exploded into her and dripped down to my balls and thighs. I hadn’t relieved myself for so long, in combination with such incredible sex, it was the most intense and burning hot orgasm I had ever experienced.
And I had plenty more still needing to be unleashed.
I barely lost my erection, as I flipped on top of her, ran my hands across her stomach and breasts for a moment, then rubbed the remains of our cum into her vulva. Our scent was floral and sharp, so alluring that both of us were compelled to dip our fingers into the mixture and have a taste. We smiled at each other, and I spread her legs and dug my face into her soft and slick vulva, determined to ensure that this night would be the most passionate and orgasmic night of Minjoo’s life.
I pressed my lips firmly into her, sucking intensely, and she moaned in a deep tone for a brief instant before the air slipped from the grasp of her lungs. She clung one hand to her breasts, while the other inched across the top of her pelvis and began to join me in stimulating her clit, so that she could reach an orgasm more wild and lengthy than her first. She pulled my hair and scratched the back of my skull, clenching her thighs to my cheeks.
Our eyes met again. She grabbed my hand and urged me forth to plant a kiss on her lips, and she broke away to take a glance at my cock, seeing that I was ready again, and she looked at me with the urgent desire to be fucked. This time, I plunged my cock fully into her. I went slowly at first, to let her acclimate and realize how well she could handle it. I pressed my hands on each of her tiny shoulders, and she wrapped her heels around the backs of my thighs, so that she could tighten herself toward me, because now she wanted me to give her the most aggressive and fast fucking she could receive from such a big cock, even if it meant having a little pain spur on the feeling of pleasure. She kept her eyes closed, mouth clenched, while gripping the sides of the bed, and she tried not to scream too loudly. But when she reached her third orgasm, a full, hearty scream stormed out of the top of her lungs; she breathed rapidly while I pounded on her vulva in quick, short bursts, then she let out another scream that trailed off into a moan of delight and exhaustion. It was the most intense satisfaction I had ever given a woman by far, and to put my final mark on the work I had done, I pulled my cock out of her and let loose another gracious load of jizz onto her stomach and tits.
And we returned to that lucid state of being two strangely civilized young people, with no ability to really communicate. We didn’t cuddle for long, didn’t make an attempt to talk about ourselves or what this occasion meant. We both knew we were fit to be a pair of fuck buddies that could grow together without words. So we showered, dressed in fresh clothes, and headed into the early and electric night, where the dance floors of late night clubs could provide the medium for us to keep expressing our excitement for each other.
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