Haseul suggests a Valentine's Day hike to celebrate being over her ex. She wore that dress for a reason — and it wasn't the holiday or the scenery.
Valentine’s Week
“We should go out,” Haseul said over breakfast. “It’s Valentine’s Day. Spring is starting. We’ve been cooped up here too long.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Just a walk. Maybe that hiking trail near Namsan. It’s usually crowded but the weather’s nice.”
You noticed she was in a good mood. Lighter than she’d been in weeks.
“You seem happy,” you observed.
“I am.” She sipped her coffee. “I’ve been thinking about my ex. The breakup. And I realized… I’m over it. Completely. I’m enjoying being single.”
“That’s good.”
“It is. Especially since…” She smiled. “Since I have you around when I need you. No relationship pressure, no expectations. Just… this.” She gestured between you. “It’s freeing.”
Something in your chest tightened at that. Just this. Just the arrangement.
“So, hiking?” she asked.
“Sure. Let’s go.”
The trail near Namsan was popular—couples everywhere, families, groups of friends. Spring was arriving early, trees budding, the air warmer than it had been in months.
Haseul walked beside you in a flowing summer dress—ivory white, falling to mid-calf, moving with the breeze. She looked peaceful, relaxed, beautiful.
“This is nice,” she said. “Just being out. Being normal.”
“We can do this more often.”
“I’d like that.”
She kept brushing against you as you walked. Her arm against yours. Her hip bumping you when the trail narrowed. Small touches that could have been accidental but weren’t.
You rounded a bend in the trail, found a small offshoot path. Fewer people. More private.
Haseul glanced at it, then at you. Something flickered in her expression. “Want to explore?”
“Sure.”
The offshoot led to a small clearing, partially hidden by trees. You could still hear people on the main trail—laughter, conversation, footsteps on gravel—but couldn’t see them. And they couldn’t see you.
Haseul turned to face you, that mischievous look fully surfacing now. “We’re alone.”
“Sort of. People are right there.”
“But they can’t see us.” She moved closer, her fingers walking up your chest. “We could…”
“Haseul, we can't—”
“Why not?” Her hand slid lower, palming you through your pants. You were already half-hard. Had been since she started brushing against you on the trail. “It’s exciting. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
“Someone could walk by—”
“Then we’ll be fast.” She was already working your zipper, fingers deft and certain. “Please, Oppa. I’m so worked up. Valentine’s week, spring air, being out with you like this…” She freed your cock, wrapped her hand around it. “I’ve been wet since we left the apartment.”
“Fuck—”
“I wore this dress for a reason.” She stroked you slowly, watching your face. “No underwear. Easy access. I planned this.”
You groaned. “You planned to get fucked against a tree?”
“I planned to get fucked somewhere.” Her grip tightened. “The tree is a bonus.”
You kissed her. Hard. Swallowed her surprised gasp and pressed her back against the nearest trunk. Her hand never stopped moving on your cock—stroking, twisting, thumb swiping over the head.
“Touch me,” she breathed against your mouth. “Feel how ready I am.”
You slid your hand up her thigh, under the dress. Bare skin, smooth and warm, leading to—
Nothing. No underwear. Just her, slick and hot against your fingers.
“See?” She rocked into your touch. “I told you. Been thinking about this the whole walk.”
You pushed two fingers inside. She bit her lip, eyes fluttering shut, a soft moan escaping.
“Quiet,” you reminded her. “People.”
“Then make me be quiet.”
You kissed her again, swallowing her sounds as you fucked her with your fingers. She was soaked—dripping down your hand, clenching around you, hips grinding in tight circles.
“More,” she gasped into your mouth. “I need more. I need you.”
“Here?”
“Here. Now. Please.”
You pulled your fingers out. She whimpered at the loss, then caught her breath when you spun her around to face the tree.
“Hands on the trunk,” you said.
She obeyed immediately. Braced herself, looked back at you over her shoulder. You lifted her dress, bunched it around her waist. The sight of her bare ass, pale against the shadows of the clearing, made your cock twitch.
“Beautiful,” you murmured.
“Less talking. More fucking.”
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