I've Been Meaning to Write This for a While Now!

Puppy dog eyes, the kind you couldn’t resist, not that you wanted to. She came home in her usual fit: a fluffy knit sweater over a warm shirt, a pair of shorts that reached to her knees, cute little puppy socks under her black sneakers. Her hair is tied up in a messy, barely-holding-it-together bun, just the way you like it. She flashes you that signature smile, the one only meant for you: quiet, shy, wanting only the softest attention only you could provide.

Apart from her outfit and that lovely smile, she had something else, and needed no words to introduce it: too many bottles of soju for too few people to share them. “I can hold my alcohol,” she always said, and thus far, she’s always been able to— there was no doubt in your mind, nor was there any need to. She’s fine, you’re fine, “Just tired, Oppa. Come drink with me?”

It's the last shot, never mind that it's been the last shot for four shots now. The room spins around you and you try so hard to pin something down, all of it in vain. The tiredness from a too-long week for the both of you has long faded away, replaced by the tiredness of three bottles of soju shared between a couple that overestimated themselves.

You're almost sure your head is physically lolling from side to side as you try to steady the world around you, but even with your hands cradling either cheek and keeping yourself still, your bearings seem to elude you all the same. The sharp sweetness of the alcohol stands guard at the back of your throat, defending your tongue from the acid that bears down and advances on your tongue. You can't tell whether it's your palms that are sweating or your forehead, though there’s not really much difference, you suppose, as a final coherent thought.

Yuri doesn't fare any better. What looks like her lightly bumping her head repeatedly onto her arm on the table, followed by a small and sharp inhale or a tiny grunt, are actually her pathetic attempts to pick her head up off the table and failing miserably. She tries again and again, but the gentle thuds of her forehead reverberating through the wooden table soften your heart with each passing one.

Despite your own numbing inebriation, you make to help your girlfriend up. The next time she tries to pick up her head, catch her with a hand placed hastily on her arm. Not too much force, hopefully only gently, push her forehead up til you can sort of see her face. And despite the world spinning around you, you find her cheeks are flushed, eyes half-shut as if she can't tell whether they're open or not, her jaw slack and hanging like she doesn't know it's still there.

She spots you at the edge of her vision, and the smile that tugs the corners of her lips up—God, she's gorgeous. Her hands are careless, her arms flailing around trying to hit you, or something. They find your shoulders, and she pulls herself close just as recklessly.

Despite a dull bump of foreheads, which neither of you notice anyway, you stare into what you can of her eyes. She's always had this look about her, the way she watches and observes, like knowing exactly what to pay attention to. Push her hair behind her ear, cup her cheek, feel the squish of her face against your palm. She smiles in your hand, nothing but love in her eyes as she admires yours.

“Have I ever told you… *hic*... how fucking good you look?” Her speech slurs carelessly, each word fumbling past her plump lips like they didn’t need to be heard to be understood. And in a way, they really didn’t; the way she looks at you is proof enough that she’s head-over-heels for the one who looks after her so carefully despite your own drunkenness.

Your chuckle is music to her ears, and she falls just a tiny smidge harder because of it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about… You’re… *hic*... the most gorgeous person I’ve ever fucking seen.” Your hands find her waist and squeeze ever so gently, and despite the thin fabric of her shirt between your skin and hers, the heat from her body makes its way easily to your palms and warms you like nothing else could ever dream of.

Your hands travel up her sides, and with every inch you feel her squirm against you. She sits herself upon your lap, stumbling every which way as she does, her knees knocking against the table and your thankfully empty shot glasses tipping over and rolling off. In spite of everything, her hands fall gently on your shoulders, her eyes on yours, her lips parted ever so slightly as if telling, asking, begging you for attention she would only ever seek from you. “Is this okay…?” she asks carefully, as if it would ever be not-okay with you to have the most beautiful woman in the world on your lap, restricting your field of view to just her, taking up your entire line of sight to only, plainly, and solely her.

So how could you not show this girl how deep your love runs for her? Mark after mark after mark on her neck, her smooth skin a canvas of light dots and barely-there bruises. Each one you leave comes with something slightly less temporary—from the breathy moan that escapes her as she keeps your lips on her skin, to trapping your face in the crook of her neck to steal away the little perfume she has left, to the light indentation of your teeth on her collarbone. And you oblige; you keep kissing her wherever she aims you, letting her guide your head on both sides of her slender neck, as you whisper sweet nothings in between every single peck and suck, “Mm…” “You’re beautiful,” “You taste so fucking good…”

Decidedly not content, she grows tired of her favorite shirt—she grips the hem clumsily and tugs upward, revealing her waist to you like you've seen a million times before yet could never, ever get enough of. The flimsy piece of clothing clears her chest, and you find her black bra covering her luscious breasts, strap fallen off her shoulder and her fingers dealing hurriedly with the clasp on her back.

Dive into her chest this time, take her smooth flesh for yourself. She gasps as you nip and suck at unpredictable spots all over her, and as the bra falls away, you make for her nipples. You wrap your lips around one, sucking gently as you feel it stiffen against your tongue swirling around it, tracing her areola, and her breaths slowly turn into moans as you lap at her sensitive breasts. She snakes her fingers through your hair, tangling them in between to keep you in place as she pushes her tits further into your mouth.

You switch to the other one, and you feel her nipple stiffening against your tongue. Yuri leads your free hand towards her other breast, begging you to touch her more, “Fuck, Oppa, please…” Her back arches, pressing her tits even harder against your face, as you take in everything of her: the soft flesh between your lips, the scent of alcohol and final quiet notes of her perfume wafting not even an inch off her body through the air, the harsh sweetness of the alcohol you shared riddled on your mouth and hers.

“It's so good…” she confesses, and the blush on her cheeks grows redder, deeper. She grows restless, twitching and jerking on you as you lap mercilessly against the skin of her boobs. With a pop you release her nipple, and it sends her arching her back one more time, so beautifully that you couldn’t tear your eyes off of her even if your life depended on it. She’s rendered breathless, her fingers still gripping your hair to keep you still as she collects herself.

Your girlfriend is beautiful: a deep and mysterious pair of eyes filled with nothing but love and lust for you, a tantalizing neck just begging to be marked over and over again by her man, a perfect set of tits that she's all but promised only you could ever see or touch or use. You stay frozen in place admiring the goddess of a woman on top of you, when she reaches out and touches your face, asking to let her pull you back in for more kisses. Lean over and meet her where she is, take her plump, luscious lips for yourself again as she moans into your mouth like it's how things were destined to be.

Yuri cups your crotch, feeling your cock hard and straining against too many layers between your bare skin and hers. She fumbles with your drawstrings before ultimately untying them and sliding your pants down to claim her prize. She palms your erect shaft in your underwear, the last barrier separating her from what she wants, feeling how you throb against her hand like it was the only thing you wanted too.

“Oppa… can we…?” she mumbles. Her mouth dries quickly without your kiss, and you find yourself breathing heavy without hers all the same. She sits up and, to your surprise, hops onto your lap, keeping you in place and restricting your view to only her tits right in front of you and begging to be used again.

Yuri begs, “Just suck, it's so fucking good…” as she wraps her hand around your cock. She makes slow strokes up and down your shaft, feeling you twitch and throb against her loving and lustful touch.

Your lips find her nipple again, only starting to swell with how much attention you give to them. This time you bring her sensitive peak in between your teeth, nipping gently as she throws her head back. Her sweet flesh jiggles and bounces on your face, and you're spurred on further with how she whimpers as you make love to her boobs. Bring your free hand to her other breast, match the pace of your licking with your fingers. You flick her stiff peaks at the same time, one with your tongue and the other with your thumb, as her moans grow sweeter and airier.

“Fuck, you love my tits that much, Oppa?” Her giggle only makes your cock harder, and her thumb only rubs the underside of your tip just the exact way you like it, the way only she makes it feel so good.

She takes another shot of soju, but not for herself—she swirls it in her mouth, oh so careful not to spill any despite your lapping and pawing relentlessly at her pert chest. Looking up, you find her lips trembling and her cheeks puffed as she tries her best to keep the drink in her mouth, until she stops you, pulls you off of her chest, comes in for a kiss.

And it's messy in exactly the way the two of you love it. The moment you settle in, her lips part. The soju mixed thoroughly with her saliva floods your mouth and coats your tongue, each drop you couldn't catch streaming down trails from the corners of her and your mouths. She holds you in place, a hand on your neck, as if you'd go anywhere else. Grip her waist tighter and tighter, all the while she gently rubs the tip of your cock the way only she ever can.

You almost, nearly, badly want to swallow. Your tongue dances with hers, the soju still sloshing around in your mouth as she licks and nibbles on your lips before diving back down to try and fail to steal it all back. The alcohol still falls from the corner of your mouth, streaming in drops down your cheek and onto your neck, where her hand stays holding you in place like she never wants to let you go. And with every slurp and moan and tiny breath she takes, you never want to let go either.

But all good things come to an end. She's slowing down, her breath all the more ragged, her hips starting to grind against your cock. It's one final dip of her tongue into your mouth, pretending to lap up the soju she so generously offered to you, before she pulls back and admires her masterpiece. Her eyes drift over your features, each marked and tainted with her essence. Your brow newly released from a furrow with tension still woven in, your neck slathered with alcohol mixed with her spit, your lips just as puffy as her with how much and how needily you've showed her just how fucking sexy she is.

“God, you drive me insane,” she whispers with the most sultry smile you've ever seen on her, putting her hands on your neck again, “swallow for me.” Her fingertip teases a messy line from your jaw down your neck, tracing the drink as it slithers its way down your throat. And she goes further: her nail grazes your collarbone, the center of your chest, tickles your stomach. And finally, with much too much reverence and care, wraps her fingers around your shaft again. It’s only slow strokes, deep and careless but none the less intimate, as she watches your squirming at the pressure and leaking precum over her hand.

“Baby, on your knees.” You push her gently off of your lap, between your legs; she clambers down obediently, practicing the restraint she's been working so hard to build while sober. She blinks, and her eyes are gorgeous, shining like stars as her lip trembles with the anticipation of receiving her prize. Hold her by the back of her head, and her teeth peek from between those plump, delicious lips. Pull her closer, and your cock throbs right in front of her beautiful face. Snake your fingers through her hair, clutching in your fist just enough to be able to control her. Less than a centimeter away from your tip, she pants hot breaths onto your head, getting more and more turned on by the growing bead of precum forming so painfully close to her tongue.

“That's my good girl,” you groan, admiring the way she admires your cock. She can only hold that wide-eyed stare, drool forming on her bottom lip as she shivers, waiting for your green light to let her choke on your length like she's done hundreds of times before. Inch her close, closer, until she's able to plant a kiss right on the underside of your rod, and the sensation forces shocks up your spine. Your hips buck against her lips, your grip loosens ever so slightly, giving her the smallest degree of permission she can have, and she takes advantage: one kiss after another, all along your length. Yuri is relentless, going up and down your length, one tiny suck after another with every fake kiss she wishes was more than just a kiss. You know she's just playing dumb, trying to see how much of the rules she can break and get away with: no sucking without permission, no licking until you let her, but with her eyes shut lightly and with how she worships your cock, you just have to give in.

But not without one more game.

Yank her off your crotch, yank her away. A gasp catches in her throat as she's so unceremoniously pulled off of you, and by the way that gorgeous line of spit stretches from her lip to your cock, you can tell she already misses you so fucking bad.

“Does my good girl want more?” you ask, and immediately she melts: her tongue lolls out, she stares up at you, pants like a dog waiting for a treat, “Y-yes… *hic*... Yuri wants more…”

Trace your head along those luscious lips, watch her give herself to you. Her eyes flutter closed, and you take her chin oh-so-gently; she plants messy kisses on your head with her warped sense of respect, spreading your precum all over her mouth now that you’re allowing her. Your length drags across her lovely lips, letting her coat it with more of the drool she’s been desperately offering you. You stop all of a sudden, your head resting on her bottom lip, pulling it down slightly, and she knows what’s next.

Yuri keeps her mouth open just a little, wishing with everything she has that you would just shove it in. But instead, you teach her her place, taking your time just as you take her mouth. The underside of your cock drags against her tongue as you push further into her mouth, and once you hit the back of her throat, once she gags that adorable little surprised gag you always do when you’re almost all the way in, her lips seal around your shaft and she sucks. Hard.

Her cheeks hollow out, her head starts to bob up and down your length. Each time she goes down, she forces your tip against her throat right back, she lets out another loud slurp as she pulls back almost all the way. And all the while, you revel in how this absolute goddess of a woman takes your cock over and over again so willingly. She does it so well, slathering your cock with her spit like it’s what she was put on this earth to do. She works your cock like it was her sole purpose, services you like there was nothing else in the world for her. Each loving stroke of her face on your length brings you closer to the edge, and with the way she looks up at you—eyes unfocused, mouth anything but—she shows you she can’t fucking wait for it either.

She pulls her face off your cock with a pop, or rather, you make her, “Hahh, haahhh…” she pants desperately, “M-more…? Please?”

And you swear she melts your heart right back. She’s the image of submission: polite, willing, needy, and on top of it all, you always did have that soft spot in your heart that only she could ever have. She looks up at you, waiting for whatever it is you’ll let her do, make her do, and the only signal she needs is your fingers falling away from her chin.

Her eyes widen, pure joy spreads throughout her face at your permission. She giggles, sits up on her knees, “Thank you, Oppa.” She brings up her chest, presenting her beautiful tits to you once more: every single light hickey still prominently displayed on her smooth skin, her pink nipples stiff and puffy from all your past attention, the way she squishes them together around your cock like her body is your personal paradise. “Look at what you, *hic*, did to me…”

She continues her worship, keeping you secure between her tits. Yuri starts moving, dragging her boobs up and down your length, making you groan, music to her ears. Her titfuck is sloppy as sloppy gets: careless where you like, reverent where it matters. She almost loses her balance every once in a while, slipping to the left or right at a particularly enthusiastic jerk of you, giggling as she rights herself before continuing to service your cock. And her moans—God, her moans—like she’s getting off to getting you off all the same.

And how could you tear your eyes off the sight? Here’s the most gorgeous woman in the world between your legs, the perfect skin of her shoulders and neck on display for you, the most delicious pair of breasts on your cock. The way she squeezes and bounces them, how she proudly shows them off, begging you to do more than just watch. So you indulge her, or rather, yourself: take over the job of keeping her tits wrapped around your cock, take her boobs in your own hands, and she lets out a low hum of absolute depraved pleasure at the sensation of being used again. She kneels politely in front of you, letting you grope and touch and squeeze her body like she knows you own her.

She gets that glint in her eyes again, slows down her titfucking to a painful near-standstill. She hands you one of the fallen shot glasses, pours a drink into it, smiles that drunken smile only starting to turn sober. “Just a second…” she whispers only loud enough to tickle your ears. All at once, she throws her head back, the soju spilling into her mouth, but she doesn’t swallow; and you swear this girl being as in love with you as she is is nothing short of a miracle.

She keeps it in her mouth, swirling, swirling like she did earlier, except not as long, not as careful: she wants to be messy for you. Her cheeks are puffed, filled with the drink, a smile reaching up to her eyes. Yuri, ever the romantic, always the depraved, takes your hands in hers. Her fingers wrap around yours as she pulls them back towards the warmth and softness of her chest, wrapping her tits around your throbbing length again. She’s evil in all the best ways, and the fact that she’s this brand of evil only for you is heaven on earth.

“Smile for me, baby girl…” and she takes that ungodly amount of joy in obeying you: she shows you her pearly whites, and soju floods out from between them. The alcohol drips down her lips, chin, chest, leaving a light pink stain down the body only you’ll ever get to see. It’s close to heaven, how the warmth of her mouth spreads over your cock again, and once the drink finishes falling from her lips, she takes your head in again to lick and suck like taking it all back.

It’s her head tilting to the side, making sure you see how your cock pokes and bulges against the inside of her cheek as she keeps running her tongue over what she can reach of your shaft. One last deep thrust into her throat, “Ghlk—” before you pull out of her warm, wet mouth slowly, letting her savor the taste and feeling of being yours.

She coughs exactly twice, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, shoots you another lazy, dangerous smile. Her eyes are cloudy and unfocused, knowing both you and she’s had more to drink that you know you can handle, yet she loves it more than anything. Takes your cock in between her tits again, goes faster and faster; she’s grunting now, doing everything she can to show you how well-behaved of a fucktoy she is to deserve your load splattered all over her face and coating her tits. “Oppa, I’ve been so good for you… *hic*... Please gimme…”

You can’t take it anymore, not that you want to be holding back on this absolute perfection of a woman. Pull her off your cock, onto your lap. She’s straddling you before it even registers she moved—that sexy smile that spreads across her face as she realizes what you want of her—and she gives you slower and slower strokes as she hovers right over your cock.

Don’t even wait, not when you have bliss itself right in front of you. Dive into her chest again, taking her nipple between your teeth. Suckling on her sensitive pink peaks causes her to groan, but it’s nothing like when she slides down onto your hard, throbbing cock: she throws her head back and lets out a choked moan, “F-fuck, Oppa!”

And she can’t slide down fast enough: your hand on her hip, pulling her down as best as you can, making her take you faster, harder, while you keep lapping at her soft, luscious breast bouncing against your mouth. You grab the other one with your free hand, and you swear you could feel her right then and there squeezing your cock so desperately tight between her velvet walls, five seconds away from the pleasure you and only you could give her. But while you consider showing her the mercy of just the tiniest bit of breathing room, just for her to calm down, you’re reminded—by the way she grips your hair, shoves more of her tits onto your face, moans your name—that the last thing she wants is to calm down. Her thighs are jiggling as she fully sits on your lap, her pussy clenching desperately as she takes you all the way in.

It’s pure bliss for the both of you, having each other close like this, intimate like this, owning one another like no one else ever will. For just one moment, you lean your head right against the middle of her chest, catching the breath you had only just let go. You keep your eyes shut, her delicate, needy whimpers filling your ears as you throb inside her, hitting spots much too sensitive after all your fun tonight. And she just plainly holds you close, taking in the peace and comfort of spending time with her person, twirling your sweat-drenched hair gently between her fingers as she holds you close against her pounding heart.

“Oppa…” she whispers into your ear between deep breaths, “am I good?” You’re reminded that this was all for her, so she can relax and unwind, and the way she asks so cutely for your approval like she needs to earn it fills you with a warm fuzzy feeling to just give her whatever she damn well wants.