20
Hyeonjun slowly inserted the end of the recorder into himself. Surprisingly, his ass accepted it smoothly, and the firm thickness—far more stable than a finger—delivered incredible satisfaction.
“Haa… Nngh, ah, ah—!”
He almost moaned in pleasure. The ridged surface of the recorder scraped against his inner walls, scratching an itch he didn’t even know he had. He wouldn’t be using this recorder again, but that didn’t matter. The position was uncomfortable, so he pulled it out, sat on the floor, spread his legs, and tried again. With a soft squelch, the recorder slid inside. When he clenched, he could feel its hard surface pressing against him. He pushed it in and out, fucking himself with it.
“Ah… Ugh… Ah—! Aah—!”
His moans were getting too loud, so he clamped a hand over his mouth, pumping his arm frantically. Pre-cum dripped from the tip of his cock.
Then—
The door burst open.
Hyeonjun froze, naked on the floor, legs spread, recorder buried inside him. Hyeontae stood in the doorway, holding a watermelon, stunned. The noise from the living room flooded in. The TV sounded unnaturally loud. Hyeonjun’s face burned crimson, hot with shame.
He couldn’t deny it—he’d been caught mid-thrust. Unable to scream at him to leave, Hyeonjun trembled. Hyeontae glanced around the room, then closed the door behind him and stepped inside.
“Didn’t you hear me knock, Hyeonjun?”
Hyeontae set the watermelon on the desk. Hyeonjun’s eyes widened—he hadn’t heard any knock.
(It was a lie. Hyeontae knew that. If he didn’t give Hyeonjun sexual stimulation for a few days, his body would crave it. And sure enough—his obedient son was fucking himself with a recorder.)
“Th-that… I…”
Hyeonjun barely got the words out. This situation felt more like a nightmare. The last person he wanted to see him like this was standing right there. Why the hell did he have to barge in? Who even asked for a fucking watermelon? He seethed inwardly, his heart pounding.
“Our Hyeonjun… has quite the unusual hobby.”
“N-no, it’s not— I mean—”
Hyeonjun stammered, the recorder still inside him. Hyeontae lifted his chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. Then he cut straight to the point:
“Hyeonjun… does your mother know about this?”
Hyeonjun avoided his eyes, confused by the sudden mention of his mother. Hyeontae’s smug expression made him feel overwhelmed. Hyeontae stroked his chin and said:
“Well… she might be interested in men.”
Then he undid his zipper and pulled out his cock, pressing it against Hyeonjun’s lips.
“Suck it. If you do, I’ll keep this a secret from her.”
Hyeonjun’s mind spun. Was this some cheap porn plot? But he had no choice. The thought of his mother finding out was horrifying. Reluctantly, he licked the tip.
“…Nn, ha… mmm…”
It was his first time sucking cock, yet it felt familiar. Maybe it was because he’d been watching so much porn? Even though it was someone he hated, the sensation was nothing like he expected.
It wasn’t as bad as he thought. In fact… it felt good.
Hyeonjun didn’t need guidance—he licked from base to tip, swirling his tongue around the head. Hyeontae smiled in satisfaction, stroking his head as he bobbed up and down. The sight of his son licking eagerly while the recorder was still buried in his ass was adorable.
Then—a voice came from outside the door:
“What are you doing? I brought the watermelon for Hyeonjun…”
Could she even imagine what was happening just one door away—her son sucking his stepfather’s cock? Hyeontae answered casually:
“Oh, Hyeonjun had a question about his homework.”
Noticing Hyeonjun’s paralyzed silence, Hyeontae grinned. As if scolding him for stopping, he gripped the back of his head and thrust deep, fucking his throat. Better safe than sorry.
He wasn’t planning to drag this out. The goal was to humiliate Hyeonjun while he was sober and reassert control. Hyeontae pulled out his phone and called Yu-jin—blocking his number.
“Hello?”
The phone in the living room rang. Yu-jin paused mid-sentence and headed toward the sound. Once her footsteps faded, Hyeontae came in Hyeonjun’s mouth and hung up.
(She’d probably be confused by the blocked number, giving him enough time.)
That was all he needed. Hyeontae straightened his clothes and said in an unusually gentle tone:
“We’ll talk tomorrow, Hyeonjun.”
Hyeonjun swallowed every drop, the cum dripping from his lips as Hyeontae pulled out. Then Hyeontae left. Hyeonjun sat there naked, stunned, wondering if this was all a terrible dream.
But the recorder still inside his ass felt all too real. What the hell did I just do? Horror washed over him. He tugged at the recorder, but his body clenched instinctively, craving more. The ridged surface teased him, but he forced himself to ignore it. If I touch myself again, I’m really trash. Terrified, he pulled on his clothes. His mind and body were in shock, numb to everything else.
Of course, his body’s shock was sexual frustration, aching for release, while his mind reeled in the opposite direction. Cognitive dissonance tore at him. He collapsed onto the bed, unable to sleep. He didn’t even want to open his eyes. His phone was already tossed aside.
He finally drifted off just before dawn—a fitful, restless sleep. In his dream, he was pounded mercilessly by a massive cock, just like in the porn he’d watched. The slapping of balls and wet, obscene sounds filled his ears. Even though his ass hurt and the pace was brutal, it felt amazing. The pleasure was so intense his toes curled.
“Ah! Ugh—! Ah—! Nngh—! It’s good—! More—! Ugh—! Pregnant—! Make me pregnant—!”
His dream-self moaned shamelessly, spreading his own ass, begging for more. Overwhelmed by pleasure, he sobbed, clawing at the sheets—
“Darling—! Nngh—!”
Hyeonjun jolted awake, gasping. Dawn light filtered through the window. He was soaked in sweat, tangled in the sheets, having thrashed in his sleep. And his cock was still rock-hard.
Had he lost his mind?
His hand moved faster, stroking himself. He knew for sure now—just jerking off wouldn’t cut it. He tossed his clothes aside, not bothering with the light, and grabbed the recorder from the floor. Without any foreplay, he shoved it inside—and it felt good. He stayed on all fours, arching his back, imagining the dream—the cock fucking him senseless. Moans slipped out unbidden. Aware his mother and Yu-jin were home, he buried his face in a pillow, muffling his sounds.
The recorder was nothing compared to the thick cock in his dream, but he tried to imagine it, thrusting his hips. A shuddering climax hit him. He pulled the recorder out, collapsed onto the bed, and panted.
His body felt wrong.
His mind felt wrong.
***
At school, he zoned out through classes. The professor’s reminders about finals went in one ear and out the other. While everyone checked assignment deadlines, Hyeonjun stared blankly at his desk. The lewd dream from last night haunted him. The second he closed his eyes, he saw it again—the relentless pounding, the rough grip on his hips. If he dwelled on it, he’d get hard, so he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. But less than ten minutes later, his mind drifted back to the filthy dream.
He remembered Hyeontae’s words clearly: “We’ll talk tomorrow.” That smug smile was infuriating. How dare he do something so disgusting and then act all innocent?
Hyeonjun hated him. He always had. But somehow, the memory of Hyeontae saying “tomorrow” kept replaying in his head. He didn’t want to admit it, but… he was looking forward to it.
At 3 PM, when he got home—Hyeontae was there.
(As if he’d been waiting.)
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
