The clock neared ten. It was time to retrieve his sister, Minji, and move her to her own room. The initial surge of excitement that had risen in jinwoo had, after a conscious effort, finally settled. He took a few deep breaths, trying to ground himself before he stepped back into the house.
But as he carefully entered the brightly lit master bedroom downstairs, he realized the futility of his earlier efforts. His mom, Haemi, lay on her side, an eye mask shielding her from the harsh LED light. The room felt sterile and unforgiving, a stark contrast to the scene unfolding on the bed. His mother's lilac silk gown had shifted, revealing the luscious curve of her hips and thighs. From the top of the gown, two full, white globes of flesh had slipped out, a vision of natural abundance. Atop one of these magnificent globes, a dark-tipped nipple peeked out.
His ten-year-old sister, Minji, was sound asleep, her tiny lips gently latched onto his mother's breast, a baby-like instinct even in her slumber. The sight was surreal, a domestic tableau infused with a potent, unspoken energy. jinwoo stood mesmerized, then his conscience pricked him.
"Mom?" he whispered, his voice barely a breath. "Are you awake?"
There was no answer. He knew his mom, a woman in her late thirties, was deep in sleep. Still, a thrilling tension tightened in his chest. Cautiously, he approached the bed. He gently unlatched Minji's mouth from his mother's breast. The skin around the nipple was moist and glistening with her saliva, a detail that sent a jolt of raw sensation straight to jinwoo groin. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion and desire. He felt himself hardening, a shameful and exhilarating reaction.
"Mom...?" he called again, the name a soft question on his lips. His heart hammered against his ribs. What would he say if she woke up and saw his aroused state? A risky game, he thought, but for some reason, he had to know for sure if she was truly asleep. He needed to be certain. He watched her for what felt like an eternity, her chest rising and falling in a rhythmic, peaceful cadence.
Compelled by an instinct he couldn't name, he reached out. His fingertips, trembling with anticipation, hovered over the glistening breast. He hesitated for a moment, then lightly touched the plump, wet skin. A sudden, involuntary tremor passed through his mother's body. His heart sank. He dropped to the floor, hiding under the bed, a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins.
Was she awake? Or was it just a reflex, a shiver from a sensitive nerve touched in her sleep? He couldn't tell; the eye mask was an impenetrable barrier. After an agonizing few minutes, he crept back up, breathing a silent sigh of relief when he saw that she was still perfectly still. The act he had just committed—toying with his mother's nipple—felt strange and foreign, yet deeply arousing. He had to regain control. He had to finish the task he came for.
Minji was still asleep. He lifted her carefully into his arms, a little shocked by how much she had grown. Her thighs felt fuller, her behind rounder. He felt her weight in his arms, the soft warmth of her body a potent presence against his. He didn't avoid the contact. Instead, he let his erection press against her, a thrill of forbidden pleasure mixing with a sharp, shuddering guilt. He moved as slowly as he dared, each step a deliberate, sensual delay.
Finally, in Minji's room, he gently placed her on the bed. The phantom warmth of her body lingered on his, a ghost of her touch. He saw his mother's face in Minji's sleeping features, and a wicked thought twisted in his mind: her body, too, would one day blossom into a voluptuous form, a promise of feminine perfection. He found his hand moving of its own accord, but stopped just short of touching her. The urge was there, a burning need to feel the softness of her budding chest, but a greater fear—a fear of what he was capable of—halted his hand in mid-air.
His gaze fell to her lips, soft and slightly parted in sleep. These were the lips that had just been on his mother's breast, and the thought was a potent stimulant. The urge became a torrent, a need he couldn't contain. But instead of acting on it, he pulled back, a cold shiver of shame running down his spine. The perversity of his own thoughts was a transgression far more terrifying than any physical act. He had to get out, to escape the confines of his own mind before it led him to something he could never undo.
Horrified by his own thoughts and the sheer depravity of his desires, he fled the room. He was more worried about what he might do than about her waking up. With a throbbing erection, jinwoo rushed to the bathroom.
Guilt consumed him, a heavy, suffocating blanket. He had violated his mother's and sister's innocence in the most perverse ways, not through actions but through the sheer evil of his thoughts. But as quickly as it came, the guilt transformed into a burning, insatiable fuel for his lust. He felt a fire in his veins, his mind consumed by the image of his mother's breast and the perverse connection he had made with Minji's innocent lips.
Driven by a desperate need for release, he tore through the laundry hamper. He was looking for his other sister, Sohee's, sweaty clothes, a tangible object to focus his obsession on. He found her black panties, still damp from her gym session. The scent of her sweat, a mixture of salt and woman, was an intoxicating perfume. He was trembling now, a raw, animalistic need gripping him.
He pictured his sister, her shapely ass and lush thighs. The image of her being violated, a perverse fantasy fueled by his own desire, filled his mind. He pulled the panties over his throbbing erection, using them to masturbate, the fabric a conduit for his most depraved thoughts. He imagined a graphic scene of domination, a scenario where he was the sole perpetrator of her violation. He imagined her voluptuous behind, barely contained by her shorts, trembling as he took her. He was lost in the fantasy, a slave to his own monstrous desire.
Finally, he climaxed, a violent release that left him shuddering and gasping for air. The guilt returned then, heavier and sharper than before, a grim reminder of the depths of his own depravity.
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