[one-shot] summer shudder, homin
summer shudder
rating: nc-17
pairing: yunho/changmin
summary: au. changmin's parents are rich and have left him alone for two weeks. yunho is the pool boy.
word count: 3,108
comments: pretty much just pwp to try and get back into my old narrative style. for my fav unnie again because i llllove her and i want to bribe her into writing me fic. also, i've just come back from a long vacation with no internet, so i have lots of fic coming up for you guys~
When I was in high school, and then in college, I never really had the knack that seemingly everyone else did for making the summer sound super-awesome, super-unforgettable, and super-legendary. And those kids, they were professionals at making their summers be all those things and more (read: super-hung-over). Facebook would be absolutely cluttered with “SUMMER OH FIVE!!!!111” and words of excitement alike from all of my party-inclined acquaintances, meaningless pictures were posted and written on in Comic Sans about how great their memories of the summer were, yadda yadda yadda.
For me, however, summer as a teenager and a young adult was never something to get excited about in advance. But there is definitely a summer that I will always remember, and that I had the obligation to name as to give it more importance-and that was the summer of 2006.
I’d never been very outgoing, especially during vacations; I had quite a few friends, and I had no trouble making new acquaintances during the school year, so that I was never the dork with the Star Wars shirt sitting alone in the back with a book. Instead, I was the very smart Shim Changmin, the cool geek who could actually pull off said Star Wars shirt and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses and still be thought of as fun to hang out with. But when the summer came, I turned into the former dork. I turned down invitations to go out, again and again and again until people gave up on calling me, and spent my days alone, with the occasional visit from my best friend for a video game contest.
Other than that, I read a lot. I also watched a lot of porn. The only thing I didn’t know was that at eighteen, I would practically be starring in one, minus the cameras.
The summer of 2006 started with high school graduation, including my narrow escape from too many after prom parties that I didn’t care for, and thus, I spent most of June and the first week and a half of July hiding in my house with my cell phone shut off. After that, my parents decided to go on a family vacation, and the prospect of being alone for two whole weeks overpowered my very weak desire to follow along on a camping trip that only promised constant nagging from my sisters and a full-body suit of bug bites.
Besides, it wasn’t hard to convince my parents to let me stay behind. They’d witnessed my firm refusal to attend the mandatory drinking occasions that came with graduation and my creativity at avoiding other human beings my age in the last month, so it wasn’t hard for them to trust that I wouldn’t be throwing parties every day until the neighbour called the cops.
I was just happy to be alone for so long. But, of course, I couldn’t have it.
The summer before that, my father had grown tired of taking care of our pool and gigantic backyard, and had decided to hire someone to do the work outside. That someone was Jung Yunho: twenty-one, tall (though not as much as me, but it made him look incredibly hot, while I only looked like an asparagus), athletic, handsome, with a perfect, natural tan and a killer smile. He was also incredibly polite and well-mannered, but that seemed to fly out the window once my parents left and I was alone.
Since he came in the morning, I never saw him; the only time I had to watch porn when my family was there was when everyone was asleep, and for that I stayed awake until the wee hours of morning and slept until noon. I hadn’t ever seen him until the first day of my Alone Vacation as I liked to call it-because my parents were gone, he figured he could come in a few hours later because an eighteen-year-old probably would understand that he wanted to sleep in as well. He was right; I didn’t really care as long as I did his job and my parents weren’t paying him for nothing, but it got a bit annoying after a while.
I was reading a novel outside the first time I saw him. I sat by the poolside, in the shade of our big old tree with my feet dangling about in the water as I practically devoured George Orwell’s 1984. My morning-the beginning of the afternoon, actually-passed by slowly, time counted in the pages, and I was barely aware that the universe was still existent around me until I heard the sound or Yunho’s motorcycle coming into our driveway.
It was a sleek red Yamaha sports bike, and he treated it like it was his own child. Now, I had never been much of a car enthusiast, but I’d always been fond of Japanese sports bikes; I thought they were sexy, even if I would never drive one. And damn, did Yunho look sexy on that motorcycle, even though I only learned this a few days later.
I looked up as he made his way into the backyard, just in time to see him take his shirt off, exposing his tan upper body. His muscles flexed as he moved, and in that moment I wished my life was a movie or an American soap opera, just so that I could see it in slow motion. He looked up at me as he tucked his shirt into one of the back pockets of his shorts and arched an eyebrow, smirking.
“So, d’you live here or did you break in to have a swim?” he asked conversationally.
I frowned. “I live here.”
He looked at me with amusement all over his face and crouched by the pool, testing the water with his hand. “No social life, huh.”
“I have a social life. Why do you say that?”
“Well, I don’t know. You’re sitting there reading a book in the middle of July, and it’s a beautiful day too. If you had a social life, you’d be inserting your dick in a girl instead of your nose in a book.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“Gladly,” he smirked, taking a step towards me. I stood up and walked back into the house, and that was the end of our first meeting.
Over the next few days, Yunho kept the same attitude up. He teased me mercilessly, then flirted, then teased me some more. Oftentimes, I talked back; but there were other moments, like when he decided to hose himself down right in front of me, where I just couldn’t say a word. He used his body like a shield from my smartass replies, and it worked, because I just couldn’t help but stare and lose track of my every even remotely intelligent thought. But then, I couldn’t help it; I was a teenager, sexually frustrated, about to go to college with a whooping record of only having slept with one girl (and I wasn’t exactly magnificent that time), and also sexually curious.
And he was just, well. Insanely attractive, and he seemed to want to get into my pants. Maybe he thought his little act was subtle, like the wall he was building in front of himself was foolproof, but with the way he acted, I could see that he wanted me, and that my lack of reaction was disheartening him.
We were both getting frustrated with each other, just waiting for one of us to make the first move, dancing around each other.
I ended up making said first move. I was sitting in one of our way-too-expensive, barely-even-comfortable patio lounging chairs, and this was the time he had just hosed himself down. His hair stuck to his forehead, pearls of water rolled down his chest, and he smirked at me like he knew he’d just won.
He had, but that was beside the point.
“I have a face, you know,” he said, and the amusement was clear in his tone.
Yeah, so I had been staring. It wasn’t like he gave me a reason not to. “Your right nipple is bigger than your left.”
“What?!”
I took the moment he looked down at himself to slip off the lounger and walk closer to him, and when he looked back up, we were just inches away from each other.
“Both of my nipples are of the same, normal size,” he protested almost childishly, and it was my turn to use the suave attitude that he’d been giving me lately. It felt ridiculous, but he didn’t seem to think so.
“Does it matter? I’m going to let you fuck me anyway,” I said in a quiet, low voice, my eyes meeting his.
That’s when he kissed me. He grabbed my face and crashed our lips together fiercely, wasting no time in running his tongue over my bottom lip. I opened up for him completely willingly and let my hands trail over his sides, shy to be touching his bare skin at first but growing more confident as our kiss intensified and he pressed his body against mine, rocking our hips together.
It probably took no time for him to feel my erection against his hip and he broke the kiss, looking at me as he caught his breath. His thumbs slipped under my shirt and caressed my skin. “This your first time?”
“With a man, yes,” I replied with a shiver, feeling my cheeks heat up.
He smiled. “No need to feel embarrassed. I didn’t think you’d even be experienced at all.”
“Wow, thanks.”
“Does it matter? I’m going to fuck you anyway.”
His voice had dropped an octave, and the sound of it had my spine tingling. I was the one who initiated the second kiss, my hands trailing up his wet back, fingers tangling in his hair as his hands slid up my shirt and eventually took it off for me. I wanted to taste and touch every inch of him, and he seemed to share the feeling, but we were too hurried for that just yet.
It was a blur of wandering hands and embarrassing moans on my part until he deemed me hard and begging enough and pushed me down into the grass, getting me out of my shorts. His had already been long since taken off and he pressed his hips down against mine torturously before sliding his mouth down my body, leaving a trail of kisses down my jaw and neck. He paused to lick and bite gently at my nipples, giving each more attention than I could have dreamed of, making my hips snap up all of their own accord.
“Yunho, please,” I whimpered, so far gone that I couldn’t be embarrassed anymore.
I could feel him smile against my skin as he moved down further south, hooking his thumbs in my boxers and sliding them down gradually. Soon they were completely off and he was biting at the insides of my thighs, moving closer and closer to my leaking erection. I was panting, my chest heaving and my fingers clawing at his shoulders as I begged him to do something, anything, and suddenly his mouth left my body altogether. I heard sucking sounds, but I didn’t have the strength to lift my head and see what he was doing; besides, I didn’t really care what he was doing, because it wasn’t me that he was sucking anyway.
Soon enough, his tongue was sliding up the underside of my cock, pressing against the tip as the pad of a slick finger circled my entrance-so that was what he’d been doing. I jumped at the feeling and he placed his free hand on my thigh reassuringly.
“Shh, I’m going to take it slow, don’t worry,” he said. I didn’t want to tell him, but I’d played with myself like this plenty of times before; it was just weird to be feeling someone’s fingers there, like I wasn’t prepared for such intimacy even if I’d initiated it in the first place.
He slid his finger inside me, and because I was used to it, I pressed my hips down against it, my hole clenching around his finger. The first one never hurt anymore. Instead, it just teased me deliciously, and the different angle coupled with Yunho’s long, slender fingers already had me begging for more. I moaned loudly as he swirled his tongue around the head of my cock and the second finger pressed against my entrance before finally entering me. He was more careful this time, letting me adjust, even though it wasn’t so bad. By the time he was moving his fingers, scissoring me, I was rocking my hips and gripping tufts of grass at my sides.
“Fuck, Yunho, I’m not made of glass,” I said, my voice coming out needier than I planned. He chuckled and slid back up my body, kissing me hotly.
“You’re so hot when you beg me,” he said, his still clothed erection sliding against me. That’s when he added the third finger, making me cry out. It was more uncomfortable than painful, but the mix of pain and pleasure had my skin on fire-if it wasn’t already.
He bit down on my shoulder and pumped his fingers in and out of me until he decided I was stretched enough (or that he couldn’t take it anymore, or both), wiggling out of his boxers and spitting into his hand to get his erection slick. I put a hand on his shoulder to try and stop him.
“Wait, do you have a condom?”
“I don’t care, I’m clean. Do you really want to be preventive and stop this now? Because I really don’t.”
That was a good enough argument for me. In my defence, I was so intoxicated by lust then that I really couldn’t care less about protection, even if I’d sworn to myself I’d always be careful. It also felt like I was a little bad to be going bareback even though I knew I had a box of condoms in my nightstand.
He supported himself with one hand in the grass right by my head and nudged my knees up, spreading my legs with the other before aligning himself with my entrance. He eased the head of his cock in, and just that had me stretched more than his fingers. I dug my nails into his back and gritted my teeth as he wrapped his fingers around my cock, pumping gently as if to distract me.
It worked a little, especially as he started thrusting shallowly, letting me take in more of his cock every time. Soon he was buried inside me completely, his body shaking above mine as he stilled, letting me adjust to his size. He was breathing heavily into my ear, and I could tell just how hard this was for him. The thought of him wanting me so much that he could barely take not moving inside me sent small waves of pleasure over me, and I dragged my fingers down his back appreciatively, drawing a hiss out of him.
“Fuck, you’re huge,” I panted, wrapping my legs around his waist as I rocked my hips a little.
“That’s what your mom said,” he replied through gritted teeth. I smacked his back, and he tried a smile. “A joke.”
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s keeping me from fucking you senseless right now.”
“You can start fucking me senseless.”
And, well, that’s exactly what he did. He pulled out of me almost completely and then slammed back in, settling into a rhythm that had us both moaning, and me writhing under him. He kissed me hard, but neither of us was able to keep it up, as if needing to cry out each other’s name endlessly. And it seemed he’d decided to make me come harder than I ever had, because he sped up and changed the angle, looking for my spot, using the intensity of my moans like a map.
I almost screamed when he finally hit it, seeing stars and feeling myself get so close already. He pounded my prostate mercilessly, always a little harder, as if fuelled by how much more wanton I became every time. I stammered something about being close as well as I could, but it was hard with how he was almost literally fucking my brains out.
He nipped at my collarbone as his fingers wrapped around my cock again, pumping me in time with his thrusts, and soon it was too much and I was moaning even louder, spilling into his hand as I came hard, my body shaking and clenching around him. I wasn’t even done riding my orgasm when he reached his, filling me with hot cum before dropping on top of me, completely breathless. We stayed like this for a moment.
“Yunho, you’re a little heavy,” I said quietly, and he chuckled, pulling out of me and dropping down onto the grass next to me.
“That was...”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“I usually don’t fuck my clients, you know. Or their children.”
“I usually don’t fuck our pool boys.”
“Don’t call me that.”
The rest of my solo vacation wasn’t solo at all. Yunho and I fucked every day; sometimes he’d come to work in the early afternoon and we’d have sex afterwards and until sunrise; sometimes he’d work his shift, leave, and come back for me later; sometimes he didn’t even get any work done.
He made me discover many things-every single kink that I could think of wanting to do, we did, and we fucked in almost every position imaginable. He even let me top almost half the time, and by the end of the second week, I wasn’t even sure which I liked best. What I knew, though, was that I couldn’t get enough of Yunho. But it was over too soon and my parents came back, and he was only the pool boy to me.
After only three days, I was dying to have sex with him after having not spoken to him for so long. It was a hot day, and I went to give him lemonade. He never took his eyes off me as he drank it, and when he gave me the glass back with a smile and polite thanks-my sisters were right behind me on the patio-there was a slip of paper.
We didn’t have sex at my house again, but at least I had his phone number. And, as I soon discovered, Chlamydia.
At least I had something to call him about.
rating: nc-17
pairing: yunho/changmin
summary: au. changmin's parents are rich and have left him alone for two weeks. yunho is the pool boy.
word count: 3,108
comments: pretty much just pwp to try and get back into my old narrative style. for my fav unnie again because i llllove her and i want to bribe her into writing me fic. also, i've just come back from a long vacation with no internet, so i have lots of fic coming up for you guys~
When I was in high school, and then in college, I never really had the knack that seemingly everyone else did for making the summer sound super-awesome, super-unforgettable, and super-legendary. And those kids, they were professionals at making their summers be all those things and more (read: super-hung-over). Facebook would be absolutely cluttered with “SUMMER OH FIVE!!!!111” and words of excitement alike from all of my party-inclined acquaintances, meaningless pictures were posted and written on in Comic Sans about how great their memories of the summer were, yadda yadda yadda.
For me, however, summer as a teenager and a young adult was never something to get excited about in advance. But there is definitely a summer that I will always remember, and that I had the obligation to name as to give it more importance-and that was the summer of 2006.
I’d never been very outgoing, especially during vacations; I had quite a few friends, and I had no trouble making new acquaintances during the school year, so that I was never the dork with the Star Wars shirt sitting alone in the back with a book. Instead, I was the very smart Shim Changmin, the cool geek who could actually pull off said Star Wars shirt and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses and still be thought of as fun to hang out with. But when the summer came, I turned into the former dork. I turned down invitations to go out, again and again and again until people gave up on calling me, and spent my days alone, with the occasional visit from my best friend for a video game contest.
Other than that, I read a lot. I also watched a lot of porn. The only thing I didn’t know was that at eighteen, I would practically be starring in one, minus the cameras.
The summer of 2006 started with high school graduation, including my narrow escape from too many after prom parties that I didn’t care for, and thus, I spent most of June and the first week and a half of July hiding in my house with my cell phone shut off. After that, my parents decided to go on a family vacation, and the prospect of being alone for two whole weeks overpowered my very weak desire to follow along on a camping trip that only promised constant nagging from my sisters and a full-body suit of bug bites.
Besides, it wasn’t hard to convince my parents to let me stay behind. They’d witnessed my firm refusal to attend the mandatory drinking occasions that came with graduation and my creativity at avoiding other human beings my age in the last month, so it wasn’t hard for them to trust that I wouldn’t be throwing parties every day until the neighbour called the cops.
I was just happy to be alone for so long. But, of course, I couldn’t have it.
The summer before that, my father had grown tired of taking care of our pool and gigantic backyard, and had decided to hire someone to do the work outside. That someone was Jung Yunho: twenty-one, tall (though not as much as me, but it made him look incredibly hot, while I only looked like an asparagus), athletic, handsome, with a perfect, natural tan and a killer smile. He was also incredibly polite and well-mannered, but that seemed to fly out the window once my parents left and I was alone.
Since he came in the morning, I never saw him; the only time I had to watch porn when my family was there was when everyone was asleep, and for that I stayed awake until the wee hours of morning and slept until noon. I hadn’t ever seen him until the first day of my Alone Vacation as I liked to call it-because my parents were gone, he figured he could come in a few hours later because an eighteen-year-old probably would understand that he wanted to sleep in as well. He was right; I didn’t really care as long as I did his job and my parents weren’t paying him for nothing, but it got a bit annoying after a while.
I was reading a novel outside the first time I saw him. I sat by the poolside, in the shade of our big old tree with my feet dangling about in the water as I practically devoured George Orwell’s 1984. My morning-the beginning of the afternoon, actually-passed by slowly, time counted in the pages, and I was barely aware that the universe was still existent around me until I heard the sound or Yunho’s motorcycle coming into our driveway.
It was a sleek red Yamaha sports bike, and he treated it like it was his own child. Now, I had never been much of a car enthusiast, but I’d always been fond of Japanese sports bikes; I thought they were sexy, even if I would never drive one. And damn, did Yunho look sexy on that motorcycle, even though I only learned this a few days later.
I looked up as he made his way into the backyard, just in time to see him take his shirt off, exposing his tan upper body. His muscles flexed as he moved, and in that moment I wished my life was a movie or an American soap opera, just so that I could see it in slow motion. He looked up at me as he tucked his shirt into one of the back pockets of his shorts and arched an eyebrow, smirking.
“So, d’you live here or did you break in to have a swim?” he asked conversationally.
I frowned. “I live here.”
He looked at me with amusement all over his face and crouched by the pool, testing the water with his hand. “No social life, huh.”
“I have a social life. Why do you say that?”
“Well, I don’t know. You’re sitting there reading a book in the middle of July, and it’s a beautiful day too. If you had a social life, you’d be inserting your dick in a girl instead of your nose in a book.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“Gladly,” he smirked, taking a step towards me. I stood up and walked back into the house, and that was the end of our first meeting.
Over the next few days, Yunho kept the same attitude up. He teased me mercilessly, then flirted, then teased me some more. Oftentimes, I talked back; but there were other moments, like when he decided to hose himself down right in front of me, where I just couldn’t say a word. He used his body like a shield from my smartass replies, and it worked, because I just couldn’t help but stare and lose track of my every even remotely intelligent thought. But then, I couldn’t help it; I was a teenager, sexually frustrated, about to go to college with a whooping record of only having slept with one girl (and I wasn’t exactly magnificent that time), and also sexually curious.
And he was just, well. Insanely attractive, and he seemed to want to get into my pants. Maybe he thought his little act was subtle, like the wall he was building in front of himself was foolproof, but with the way he acted, I could see that he wanted me, and that my lack of reaction was disheartening him.
We were both getting frustrated with each other, just waiting for one of us to make the first move, dancing around each other.
I ended up making said first move. I was sitting in one of our way-too-expensive, barely-even-comfortable patio lounging chairs, and this was the time he had just hosed himself down. His hair stuck to his forehead, pearls of water rolled down his chest, and he smirked at me like he knew he’d just won.
He had, but that was beside the point.
“I have a face, you know,” he said, and the amusement was clear in his tone.
Yeah, so I had been staring. It wasn’t like he gave me a reason not to. “Your right nipple is bigger than your left.”
“What?!”
I took the moment he looked down at himself to slip off the lounger and walk closer to him, and when he looked back up, we were just inches away from each other.
“Both of my nipples are of the same, normal size,” he protested almost childishly, and it was my turn to use the suave attitude that he’d been giving me lately. It felt ridiculous, but he didn’t seem to think so.
“Does it matter? I’m going to let you fuck me anyway,” I said in a quiet, low voice, my eyes meeting his.
That’s when he kissed me. He grabbed my face and crashed our lips together fiercely, wasting no time in running his tongue over my bottom lip. I opened up for him completely willingly and let my hands trail over his sides, shy to be touching his bare skin at first but growing more confident as our kiss intensified and he pressed his body against mine, rocking our hips together.
It probably took no time for him to feel my erection against his hip and he broke the kiss, looking at me as he caught his breath. His thumbs slipped under my shirt and caressed my skin. “This your first time?”
“With a man, yes,” I replied with a shiver, feeling my cheeks heat up.
He smiled. “No need to feel embarrassed. I didn’t think you’d even be experienced at all.”
“Wow, thanks.”
“Does it matter? I’m going to fuck you anyway.”
His voice had dropped an octave, and the sound of it had my spine tingling. I was the one who initiated the second kiss, my hands trailing up his wet back, fingers tangling in his hair as his hands slid up my shirt and eventually took it off for me. I wanted to taste and touch every inch of him, and he seemed to share the feeling, but we were too hurried for that just yet.
It was a blur of wandering hands and embarrassing moans on my part until he deemed me hard and begging enough and pushed me down into the grass, getting me out of my shorts. His had already been long since taken off and he pressed his hips down against mine torturously before sliding his mouth down my body, leaving a trail of kisses down my jaw and neck. He paused to lick and bite gently at my nipples, giving each more attention than I could have dreamed of, making my hips snap up all of their own accord.
“Yunho, please,” I whimpered, so far gone that I couldn’t be embarrassed anymore.
I could feel him smile against my skin as he moved down further south, hooking his thumbs in my boxers and sliding them down gradually. Soon they were completely off and he was biting at the insides of my thighs, moving closer and closer to my leaking erection. I was panting, my chest heaving and my fingers clawing at his shoulders as I begged him to do something, anything, and suddenly his mouth left my body altogether. I heard sucking sounds, but I didn’t have the strength to lift my head and see what he was doing; besides, I didn’t really care what he was doing, because it wasn’t me that he was sucking anyway.
Soon enough, his tongue was sliding up the underside of my cock, pressing against the tip as the pad of a slick finger circled my entrance-so that was what he’d been doing. I jumped at the feeling and he placed his free hand on my thigh reassuringly.
“Shh, I’m going to take it slow, don’t worry,” he said. I didn’t want to tell him, but I’d played with myself like this plenty of times before; it was just weird to be feeling someone’s fingers there, like I wasn’t prepared for such intimacy even if I’d initiated it in the first place.
He slid his finger inside me, and because I was used to it, I pressed my hips down against it, my hole clenching around his finger. The first one never hurt anymore. Instead, it just teased me deliciously, and the different angle coupled with Yunho’s long, slender fingers already had me begging for more. I moaned loudly as he swirled his tongue around the head of my cock and the second finger pressed against my entrance before finally entering me. He was more careful this time, letting me adjust, even though it wasn’t so bad. By the time he was moving his fingers, scissoring me, I was rocking my hips and gripping tufts of grass at my sides.
“Fuck, Yunho, I’m not made of glass,” I said, my voice coming out needier than I planned. He chuckled and slid back up my body, kissing me hotly.
“You’re so hot when you beg me,” he said, his still clothed erection sliding against me. That’s when he added the third finger, making me cry out. It was more uncomfortable than painful, but the mix of pain and pleasure had my skin on fire-if it wasn’t already.
He bit down on my shoulder and pumped his fingers in and out of me until he decided I was stretched enough (or that he couldn’t take it anymore, or both), wiggling out of his boxers and spitting into his hand to get his erection slick. I put a hand on his shoulder to try and stop him.
“Wait, do you have a condom?”
“I don’t care, I’m clean. Do you really want to be preventive and stop this now? Because I really don’t.”
That was a good enough argument for me. In my defence, I was so intoxicated by lust then that I really couldn’t care less about protection, even if I’d sworn to myself I’d always be careful. It also felt like I was a little bad to be going bareback even though I knew I had a box of condoms in my nightstand.
He supported himself with one hand in the grass right by my head and nudged my knees up, spreading my legs with the other before aligning himself with my entrance. He eased the head of his cock in, and just that had me stretched more than his fingers. I dug my nails into his back and gritted my teeth as he wrapped his fingers around my cock, pumping gently as if to distract me.
It worked a little, especially as he started thrusting shallowly, letting me take in more of his cock every time. Soon he was buried inside me completely, his body shaking above mine as he stilled, letting me adjust to his size. He was breathing heavily into my ear, and I could tell just how hard this was for him. The thought of him wanting me so much that he could barely take not moving inside me sent small waves of pleasure over me, and I dragged my fingers down his back appreciatively, drawing a hiss out of him.
“Fuck, you’re huge,” I panted, wrapping my legs around his waist as I rocked my hips a little.
“That’s what your mom said,” he replied through gritted teeth. I smacked his back, and he tried a smile. “A joke.”
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s keeping me from fucking you senseless right now.”
“You can start fucking me senseless.”
And, well, that’s exactly what he did. He pulled out of me almost completely and then slammed back in, settling into a rhythm that had us both moaning, and me writhing under him. He kissed me hard, but neither of us was able to keep it up, as if needing to cry out each other’s name endlessly. And it seemed he’d decided to make me come harder than I ever had, because he sped up and changed the angle, looking for my spot, using the intensity of my moans like a map.
I almost screamed when he finally hit it, seeing stars and feeling myself get so close already. He pounded my prostate mercilessly, always a little harder, as if fuelled by how much more wanton I became every time. I stammered something about being close as well as I could, but it was hard with how he was almost literally fucking my brains out.
He nipped at my collarbone as his fingers wrapped around my cock again, pumping me in time with his thrusts, and soon it was too much and I was moaning even louder, spilling into his hand as I came hard, my body shaking and clenching around him. I wasn’t even done riding my orgasm when he reached his, filling me with hot cum before dropping on top of me, completely breathless. We stayed like this for a moment.
“Yunho, you’re a little heavy,” I said quietly, and he chuckled, pulling out of me and dropping down onto the grass next to me.
“That was...”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“I usually don’t fuck my clients, you know. Or their children.”
“I usually don’t fuck our pool boys.”
“Don’t call me that.”
The rest of my solo vacation wasn’t solo at all. Yunho and I fucked every day; sometimes he’d come to work in the early afternoon and we’d have sex afterwards and until sunrise; sometimes he’d work his shift, leave, and come back for me later; sometimes he didn’t even get any work done.
He made me discover many things-every single kink that I could think of wanting to do, we did, and we fucked in almost every position imaginable. He even let me top almost half the time, and by the end of the second week, I wasn’t even sure which I liked best. What I knew, though, was that I couldn’t get enough of Yunho. But it was over too soon and my parents came back, and he was only the pool boy to me.
After only three days, I was dying to have sex with him after having not spoken to him for so long. It was a hot day, and I went to give him lemonade. He never took his eyes off me as he drank it, and when he gave me the glass back with a smile and polite thanks-my sisters were right behind me on the patio-there was a slip of paper.
We didn’t have sex at my house again, but at least I had his phone number. And, as I soon discovered, Chlamydia.
At least I had something to call him about.