Chapter 42 – #10_Love Potion (5)
#41
1.
Why does God always put me through trials like this?
It’s not just any pretty girl, but Odile, with a cute face that makes you glance back several times if you see her on the street.
And that Odile is presenting her rear to Siwoo, swaying her hips.
“It’s okay, of course, doing it from behind requires more attention to a woman’s body… and you have to be careful about hygiene… but…”
Siwoo is a man with normal sexual desires.
If she weren’t a novice witch, he wouldn’t have hesitated.
He might have been holding her pelvis right now.
“But don’t worry…! Even though I’m a novice witch, I’m a temporary spirit. I can’t stop growth and aging, but I don’t need to use the bathroom, and my body is much stronger than a human’s! There won’t be any problems with hygiene or safety…!”
Siwoo just stared blankly at Odile’s rear.
The slightly parted sacred vulva of the witch and the pretty folds of flesh that remained tightly closed even though she was spreading them with her hand.
She doesn’t need to use the bathroom, so she doesn’t need an enema for hygiene.
The uterus and the penis aren’t directly touching, so there’s no need to worry about damaging the vessel.
Odile herself wants penetration.
He just has to thrust.
With just that, he could take away the first anal sex experience of the haughty Odile and see her moaning at the same time.
That’s how it seems when you think about it one-dimensionally, but it’s not that simple.
Odile wasn’t in a normal state right now.
She wasn’t making accurate judgments due to the potion.
And what if the effects wear off?
Would Odile, remembering Siwoo gleefully thrusting into her aroused anus, really forgive him?
It would be different if she had been forced while bound like Odette.
So far, he’s been safe, but Siwoo couldn’t be sure about going any further.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Odile.”
“I see… so you won’t accept me even after all this.”
Siwoo shook his head.
Perhaps it was because shame had returned with Siwoo’s firm rejection, Odile stopped presenting her rear and stood up straight.
But it was clear that she had no intention of giving up.
Because Odile’s eyes were flashing with an ominous purple magical reflection.
“I didn’t want to use magic on my assistant. But I have no choice.”
Odile, who was stubborn as hell, wouldn’t give up just because Siwoo refused.
Odile decided to forcibly bind Siwoo and fulfill her desires.
“Odile, you’re really going to regret this. I’m not saying this for myself. I’m worried, I’m worried.”
As soon as Siwoo felt his body tightly bound by an invisible force, he resigned himself.
It was much more elaborate and powerful than Odette’s.
He couldn’t do anything except blink and breathe.
It felt like hundreds of strings were restraining his body.
Siwoo began to walk forward.
To be precise, Odile was manipulating Siwoo to do so.
No sooner had Siwoo sat down on the sofa than Odile hurriedly pulled off his pants.
As his pants came down along with his underwear, his stiff penis, aroused to a frightening degree, revealed itself.
“Amazing… I was just curious before, but now I want to put it in so badly, I want to suck it…”
Odile’s purple eyes focused to one side.
Like a critic marveling at a brilliant work, Odile swallowed repeatedly before slowly starting to suck his member.
“Slurp… slurp… If my assistant feels good… he might change his mind…”
“Haa….”
I don’t know.
Siwoo gave up.
There was no way he could do anything in this situation anyway, so he might as well just let her take him.
If Odile later regretted it and beat the ground, it would be her own fault.
Siwoo had clearly tried to persuade Odile and tried to run away.
“Are you feeling good? I want my assistant to feel good…”
Odile’s caresses were devoted.
It wasn’t a fellatio born from the shallow desire to show off the techniques she had honed, like before.
It was a loving and tender blowjob, wanting to make the person she loved feel as good as possible.
“Can’t you answer me?”
She didn’t mind rubbing her cheek against his penis, which was covered in her saliva.
“What kind of answer do you want at this point?”
“Wouldn’t it be ‘I love you’?”
“In my opinion, the feelings you’re experiencing are closer to lust than love.”
“No, assistant, there’s no way these burning feelings aren’t love.”
Once they had anal sex, it would be even more difficult to confess everything to Jemina and ask for forgiveness.
So, what would be the best way to end this situation on a good note?
Siwoo’s mind was racing, but Odile’s actions were too good and too fast.
“Now… if it’s this wet, I can put it in, right?”
Odile jumped onto the sofa.
She took Siwoo’s stiff penis in one hand and rubbed it against her rear.
In his heightened senses, he could clearly feel the folds of flesh as if licking them with his tongue.
Odile was panting hotly, as if that alone was making her breathless.
“Assistant, it’s okay… it’ll be awkward for me too since it’s my first time, but I’ll try to put it in?”
He could feel his glans, wet with Odile’s saliva, pressing against her rear.
Right in front of him, he could see Odile’s face, melting with a sticky look as she rubbed his penis against her rear.
Odile’s vulva, clearly visible, was wet and gaping.
The visual stimulation was fully satisfying.
If she wants to do it, what can he do?
“Ugh… uh….”
Since Odile had no anal experience, it wasn’t a straightforward insertion.
At first, he felt something soft and squishy pushing against his glans.
And as his glans pushed in until it couldn’t go any further, her rear, which had been closed like a bud, slowly began to open.
“Ah… it hurts… it hurts…!”
“If it hurts, Odile… let’s stop… ugh….”
Odile kissed him as if to silence Siwoo’s noisy mouth.
She kissed him passionately, as if love could make her forget the pain, and gradually lowered her waist.
“Ugh… ugh….”
Odile’s tightly closed eyes widened and turned completely white.
In the first place, Siwoo’s member was large.
Moreover, anal sex was a high-difficulty act that should be done after sufficient foreplay and training.
For Odile, who had no experience with anal sex, to try it in a cowgirl position was dangerous.
If she were a human woman, it wouldn’t be strange if she had already drawn blood.
“It… went… in…!”
But her determination was extraordinary.
Ignoring the pain, Odile continued to lower her waist, and her pure rear slightly opened, beginning to swallow Siwoo’s glans.
I was so tired that I felt like I was dragging a lead weight around. I’d been working on the manuscript all night, and now the sun was already high in the sky. I was so sleepy that I couldn’t even tell if I was awake or dreaming.
I stumbled into the kitchen, and the first thing I saw was a mountain of dirty dishes. I sighed. I’d been so focused on writing that I’d completely neglected the housework.
“Ugh…”
I grabbed a piece of bread and some jam from the fridge and started to eat. The bread was stale, and the jam was too sweet. I chewed slowly, trying to wake myself up.
I needed coffee. I really needed coffee.
I made myself a cup of instant coffee and took a sip. The bitter taste jolted me awake a little. I looked around the kitchen again. The dirty dishes were still there, mocking me.
I decided to ignore them. I was too tired to deal with them right now. I finished my coffee and went back to my room.
I sat down at my desk and looked at the manuscript. It was a mess. There were notes scribbled everywhere, and some of the pages were crumpled. I sighed again.
I needed to organize this mess. I started to sort through the pages, trying to make sense of my own writing. It was like trying to decipher a foreign language.
I worked for a few hours, and finally, I had a somewhat organized manuscript. I leaned back in my chair and stretched. My back was stiff, and my eyes were burning.
I needed a break. I decided to go for a walk. I put on my shoes and went outside.
The sun was shining, and the air was fresh. It felt good to be outside. I walked for a while, enjoying the peace and quiet.
I came to a small park and sat down on a bench. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of nature. The birds were singing, and the wind was rustling through the trees.
I felt myself starting to relax. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. The world looked a little brighter now.
I stayed in the park for a while, just enjoying the moment. Then, I got up and started to walk home.
I felt a little better now. I still had a lot of work to do, but I was ready to face it. I went back to my room and sat down at my desk.
I looked at the manuscript again. It was still a mess, but it was my mess. And I was going to finish it.
“Ugh…!”
The old woman’s face was a roadmap of wrinkles, each line a testament to the years she’d lived. Her eyes, though clouded with age, still held a spark of mischief. She sat on the porch, a worn shawl draped over her shoulders, watching the world go by.
“Another day, another dollar,” she muttered, her voice raspy like dry leaves crunching underfoot. She chuckled, a sound like pebbles tumbling down a hill. “Or, in my case, another day, another nap.”
A young boy, no older than seven, came running up to her, his cheeks flushed with excitement. “Grandma! Grandma! Look what I found!” he exclaimed, holding up a smooth, grey stone.
The old woman took the stone, turning it over in her wrinkled hands. “Well, isn’t that a fine-looking rock,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “What do you think it is?”
The boy puffed out his chest. “I think it’s a magic stone! It can grant wishes!”
The old woman smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached her eyes. “Oh, is that so? And what will you wish for?”
The boy thought for a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I wish… I wish for a mountain of candy!”
The old woman laughed, a hearty, genuine laugh that filled the air. “A mountain of candy, you say? Well, that’s a fine wish indeed.” She handed the stone back to the boy. “You hold onto that magic stone, and maybe, just maybe, your wish will come true.”
The boy’s eyes widened, and he clutched the stone tightly in his hand. “Really?”
“Really,” the old woman said, her voice full of warmth and affection. “Now, go on and play. And don’t forget to share your candy mountain with your old grandma when it appears.”
The boy grinned, his face alight with joy, and ran off to play, the magic stone clutched tightly in his hand. The old woman watched him go, her heart filled with a love that only a grandmother could possess. She leaned back in her chair, the sun warming her face, and closed her eyes, a peaceful smile gracing her lips. Another day, another moment of joy.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of the sea.
I was sitting on the beach, staring blankly at the waves.
The waves crashed, then retreated, leaving behind white foam.
I watched this scene repeatedly, as if I were watching a movie.
The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple.
It was a beautiful sight, but I felt nothing.
I was empty.
Completely empty.
Like a shell that had been emptied of its contents.
I didn’t know why I was here.
I didn’t know what I was doing.
I just existed.
Like a plant that had been planted in the ground, I was just waiting.
Waiting for something.
Waiting for someone.
But I didn’t know what I was waiting for.
I didn’t know who I was waiting for.
I just waited.
The sun had completely set, and the sky was now dark.
The stars began to appear, twinkling in the night sky.
I looked up at the stars.
They were so far away, so small.
I felt like I was one of those stars.
Small, far away, and alone.
I sighed.
A small sigh that was barely audible.
I stood up.
My legs felt heavy, like they were filled with lead.
I started walking.
I didn’t know where I was going.
I just walked.
I walked along the beach, the sand soft beneath my feet.
The waves continued to crash, their sound a constant rhythm.
I walked and walked, until I reached a small village.
The lights were on in the houses, and I could hear the sounds of people talking.
I stopped in front of a small restaurant.
The smell of food wafted out, making my stomach rumble.
I hadn’t eaten anything all day.
I hesitated for a moment, then opened the door and went inside.
The fact that it was new, combined with the considerable difference in physique, resulted in an unbelievably strong clench that bit down sharply on the object.
“I’m gonna…put more in…!”
I was born in a small, quiet village.
The village was nestled deep in the mountains, so deep that the sun barely touched it. The houses were all old and worn, and the people were just as old and worn. They lived their lives quietly, like the slow, steady drip of water from a cave ceiling.
I was different from them. I was born with a strange power. I could see things that others couldn’t. I could see the spirits that wandered the mountains, the ghosts that lingered in the old houses, and the demons that lurked in the shadows.
The villagers called me a freak. They said I was cursed. They avoided me, and they whispered behind my back. I didn’t blame them. I was different, and people are always afraid of what they don’t understand.
I grew up alone, wandering the mountains and talking to the spirits. They were my only friends. They told me stories of the past, of the people who had lived in the village before me, and of the creatures that had roamed the mountains long ago.
One day, I met a demon. It was a small, shadowy thing, with eyes like burning coals. It told me that it was hungry, and that it wanted to eat my soul.
I wasn’t afraid. I had seen many demons before, and I knew that they were just as afraid of me as I was of them. I told the demon that I wouldn’t let it eat my soul, and that if it tried, I would fight it.
The demon laughed. It said that I was just a child, and that I couldn’t possibly defeat it. But I knew that I could. I had the power of the spirits on my side, and I was not afraid to use it.
I fought the demon, and I won. I banished it back to the shadows, and I felt a surge of power flow through me. I knew then that I was destined for something greater than living in a small, quiet village.
I left the village, and I set out on a journey. I wanted to see the world, and I wanted to learn more about my power. I knew that there were many more demons out there, and I knew that I was the only one who could stop them.
I am a demon hunter, and I will not rest until all the demons are gone.
Odile gritted her teeth and lowered her waist even further.
The old woman’s face, wrinkled like a dried persimmon, was a map of a life lived. Her eyes, though clouded with age, held a spark of something that could have been mischief or perhaps just the stubbornness of a long life. She sat on the low stool, her back slightly hunched, her hands gnarled and calloused, resting on her lap. The worn hanbok she wore was faded, but clean, and the silver hairpin in her hair was the only hint of adornment.
“So, you’re the one they’re calling the ‘genius’?” she said, her voice raspy like dry leaves rustling in the wind. “Humph, you don’t look like much.”
I bowed my head slightly, not daring to meet her gaze directly. “I am honored to meet you, Grandmother.”
She snorted, a sound that was more air than anything else. “Grandmother? Don’t go calling me that. I’m not your grandmother.”
“I apologize. I meant no disrespect.”
“Disrespect? You think I care about disrespect? I’ve seen more disrespect in my life than you’ve had hot meals.” She paused, her eyes narrowing as she looked at me. “So, what is it you’re so good at? They say you can solve any problem, any puzzle.”
“I try my best,” I replied, my voice barely a whisper.
“Try your best? That’s all anyone can do. But trying isn’t enough, is it? You have to succeed. You have to be better than the rest.” She leaned forward, her eyes boring into mine. “Can you do that?”
I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to answer. “I believe I can.”
She chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “Belief is a dangerous thing, boy. It can make you blind to the truth. But, I suppose, it’s all you have.” She straightened up, her gaze shifting to the small wooden box on the table beside her. “Here, then. Let’s see if you’re as smart as they say.”
She pushed the box towards me with a gnarled finger. It was plain, unadorned, and looked as old as she did. “Open it.”
I reached out and took the box, my fingers tracing the smooth, worn surface. It was surprisingly light. I looked at her, a question in my eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that. Just open it.”
I took a deep breath and lifted the lid. Inside, nestled on a bed of faded velvet, was a single, tarnished key. It was old, its teeth worn and its surface dull.
“What is this?” I asked, my voice filled with confusion.
“That, boy, is the key to everything.” She smiled, a rare and unsettling sight. “Now, tell me, what does it open?”
“Heeuuuuk..!”
The old woman’s face was a roadmap of wrinkles, each line a testament to the years she had weathered. Her eyes, though clouded with age, still held a spark of mischief, and her hands, gnarled and twisted like ancient tree roots, moved with surprising dexterity as she kneaded the dough. The scent of sesame oil and garlic filled the small kitchen, a comforting aroma that had been a constant in my life.
“Are you still thinking about that boy?” she asked, her voice raspy but gentle.
I didn’t answer, instead focusing on the small pile of vegetables I was chopping. The rhythmic thud of the knife against the cutting board was a familiar sound, a comforting distraction from the thoughts that swirled in my mind.
“He’s a good boy,” she continued, her voice softer now, “but he’s not for you.”
I finally looked up, my eyes meeting hers. “How do you know?”
She chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. “I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, child. I know what’s good for you and what’s not.”
I sighed, placing the knife down. “But I like him.”
“Liking isn’t enough,” she said, her gaze unwavering. “You need someone who will understand you, someone who will cherish you for who you are.”
I knew she was right, but it didn’t make it any easier. The boy, with his bright smile and easy laughter, had captured my heart, and letting him go felt like tearing a piece of myself away.
“I know it’s hard,” she said, her hand reaching out to gently pat mine. “But you’re strong, my dear. You’ll find someone who is meant for you.”
I nodded, a small smile forming on my lips. I knew she was right. I always did. She was the wisest person I knew, and her words were like a balm to my wounded heart.
“Now, come on,” she said, her voice regaining its usual firmness. “We have a lot of work to do.”
I picked up the knife again, the rhythmic thud resuming, a steady beat in the small kitchen. The scent of sesame oil and garlic filled the air, a comforting reminder that even in the midst of heartbreak, life went on.
Saliva dripped from Odile’s mouth, which was open in a groan.
Anal sex is most challenging at the beginning.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of the sea.
The wind was blowing, and the waves were crashing.
The waves were crashing, and the seagulls were crying.
The seagulls were crying, and I was walking.
I was walking along the beach.
The sand was soft beneath my feet.
The sun was warm on my skin.
The sky was blue above me.
The sea was vast before me.
I was walking, and I was thinking.
I was thinking about my life.
I was thinking about my past.
I was thinking about my future.
I was thinking about everything and nothing.
I was just walking.
I didn’t know where I was going.
I didn’t know what I was doing.
I just kept walking.
The wind was still blowing.
The waves were still crashing.
The seagulls were still crying.
And I was still walking.
The old woman’s face, wrinkled like a dried persimmon, was a map of her life. Her eyes, though clouded with age, still held a spark of mischief. She sat on the low wooden stool, her back slightly hunched, and meticulously peeled garlic. The sharp, pungent smell filled the small kitchen, mingling with the aroma of simmering kimchi stew.
“Aigoo, this old back,” she muttered, her voice raspy like dry leaves rustling in the wind. “It’s not what it used to be.”
She glanced at the young woman sitting across from her, her granddaughter, Hana. Hana was scrolling through her phone, her brow furrowed in concentration. The old woman sighed, a soft puff of air escaping her lips.
“Hana-ya,” she called out, her voice a little louder this time. “Are you even listening to your halmeoni?”
Hana startled, her eyes widening slightly as she looked up from her phone. “Oh, sorry, Halmeoni. What were you saying?”
The old woman chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “Always with that phone. It’ll be the death of you one day, you know.”
Hana smiled sheepishly. “I know, Halmeoni. But it’s important. I’m trying to find a good recipe for the kimchi jjigae.”
The old woman snorted. “Recipe? What do you need a recipe for? I’ve been making kimchi jjigae since before you were even born. It’s all in the hands, child, not in some fancy book.”
Hana laughed. “I know, Halmeoni. But I want to try something new. Maybe add some pork belly?”
The old woman’s eyes lit up. “Pork belly, you say? Now you’re talking. That’s how my mother used to make it. It’s the best way, you know.”
She continued peeling the garlic, her wrinkled hands moving with practiced ease. “You know, Hana-ya, life is like kimchi jjigae. You have to add a little bit of everything to make it good. A little bit of spice, a little bit of sour, a little bit of sweet. And a whole lot of love.”
Hana watched her grandmother, her heart filled with a warmth that had nothing to do with the simmering stew. She knew that her halmeoni’s words were more than just about cooking. They were about life, about family, about the things that truly mattered.
“I know, Halmeoni,” she said softly. “I know.”
Odel’s buttocks slowly wriggled and descended, swallowing the pole halfway down.
Siwoo felt like he was going to lose his mind from that ecstatic first experience.
Odile’s embrace is hot.
The world was a stage, and I was the main character.
That’s what I thought, anyway.
I was a genius.
A genius who had it all.
Looks, brains, wealth, and even a family that loved me.
I was the perfect human being.
That’s what I believed.
Until that day.
The day I realized I was just a character in a novel.
A character in a trashy romance novel, to be exact.
And not even the main character.
I was just a supporting character who was destined to die a miserable death.
A character who was used to make the main character shine.
I couldn’t accept it.
I was a genius.
I was the main character.
I had to change my fate.
I had to become the main character.
I had to survive.
That was the beginning of my struggle.
The struggle to change my fate.
The struggle to become the main character.
The struggle to survive.
And I was going to win.
Because I was a genius.
A genius who was going to change the world.
Or at least, my world.
The mucous membranes melted, creating a sense of oneness with Siwoo’s member, as if they were becoming one.
The day I turned twenty, I received a strange gift.
It was a small, old-fashioned music box. The kind you might see in a dusty antique shop. The box was made of dark wood, and the surface was worn smooth with age. There were no elaborate carvings or decorations, just a simple, unassuming box.
I didn’t know who had sent it. There was no sender’s name on the package, just my address written in a neat, unfamiliar hand. I was curious, so I opened it.
Inside, there was a small, silver key. I picked it up and turned it over in my fingers. It was cold and heavy, and it felt strange to the touch. I looked back at the box, and I saw a small keyhole on the side. I inserted the key and turned it.
A soft melody began to play. It was a simple, melancholic tune, like something from a forgotten dream. I listened to it for a while, and then I closed the box. The music stopped.
I didn’t think much of it at the time. I put the box on my desk and went about my day. But that night, I had a strange dream.
In my dream, I was standing in a dark forest. The trees were tall and twisted, and the air was thick with mist. I could hear the sound of the music box playing in the distance, and I felt drawn to it. I started walking towards the sound, and I soon found myself standing in front of a small, wooden cottage.
The cottage was old and dilapidated, but there was a light shining from the window. I walked up to the door and knocked. A moment later, the door opened, and a woman stood there.
She was old, with long, white hair and kind eyes. She smiled at me and said, “Welcome, child. I’ve been waiting for you.”
I didn’t know what to say. I just stood there, staring at her.
“Come in,” she said. “Don’t be afraid.”
I stepped inside. The cottage was small and cozy, with a fire burning in the hearth. There were books on the shelves, and herbs hanging from the ceiling. It felt like a place where magic might happen.
The woman led me to a chair by the fire and sat down opposite me. “You have the music box,” she said.
I nodded.
“It’s a special box,” she said. “It can take you to other worlds.”
I was surprised. “Other worlds?”
“Yes,” she said. “Worlds beyond your imagination. Worlds where anything is possible.”
I didn’t know what to believe. Was this just a dream? Or was it something more?
“You can go to these worlds,” she said. “If you want to.”
I looked at her, and I knew that I did. I wanted to see these other worlds. I wanted to experience the magic she spoke of.
“How?” I asked.
“Just listen to the music,” she said. “And let it guide you.”
I woke up with a start. The dream felt so real, so vivid. I looked at the music box on my desk. It was still there, just as I had left it.
I picked it up and opened it. The same melancholic tune began to play. I closed my eyes and listened.
And then, I felt myself being pulled away.
“Ah… ha… there. Assistant… right…?”
Odile, who had been preoccupied with holding onto her sanity between pain and pleasure, stroked Siwoo’s cheek and spoke in a voice dripping with affection.
“Me and my assistant are one now… My assistant… you’re happy too, right…?”
Squatting down, his vocal cords trembled as if the aftershocks of the sound still lingered.
Perhaps due to the sense of accomplishment of having taken Siwoo, Odile’s inner membrane quivered like ripples, stimulating Jiwoo’s member.
I definitely pulled back a step just a moment ago.
I think I’m going to cum right away.
The day I turned twenty, I received a strange gift.
It was a small, antique-looking music box. The kind you might see in an old movie. The box was made of dark wood, and the surface was intricately carved with patterns that looked like vines and flowers. When I opened the lid, a delicate melody began to play. It was a tune I’d never heard before, but it was strangely familiar, like a forgotten memory.
I didn’t know who had sent it. There was no card, no return address, nothing. It was just the box, sitting on my doorstep, as if it had materialized out of thin air.
I tried to find out who sent it, but no one knew anything. My family, my friends, even the delivery company, all said they had no record of it. It was as if the music box had appeared out of nowhere, just for me.
The music box became a constant presence in my life. I would listen to the melody every day, sometimes for hours. It was soothing, calming, and it made me feel like I was part of something bigger than myself.
But as time went on, the music box started to change. The melody became more complex, more intricate. And the carvings on the box seemed to shift and move, as if they were alive.
I started to have strange dreams. Dreams of places I’d never been, of people I’d never met. And in each dream, the music box was there, playing its haunting melody.
I knew something was happening, something I couldn’t explain. The music box wasn’t just a music box anymore. It was something else, something more.
And I was starting to think it was trying to tell me something.
The day I turned twenty, I received a strange gift.
It was a small, old-fashioned music box. The kind you’d see in a dusty antique shop. The box was made of dark wood, and the surface was intricately carved with floral patterns. When I opened the lid, a delicate melody began to play. It was a tune I’d never heard before, yet it felt strangely familiar.
I didn’t know who had sent it. There was no sender’s name on the package, just a small card that read, “May your days be filled with music.”
I was a bit puzzled, but I put the music box on my desk and went about my day. I was a university student, majoring in literature, and I was busy with assignments and part-time jobs. I didn’t have much time to think about mysterious gifts.
That night, as I was trying to fall asleep, I heard the music box playing again. I hadn’t touched it, but the melody filled the room. I got up and looked at it. The lid was closed, but the music was still coming from inside.
I opened the lid, and the music stopped. I closed it again, and the music started. It was as if the music box had a life of its own.
I couldn’t sleep, so I sat at my desk and listened to the music. It was a beautiful, melancholic tune that seemed to tell a story. I felt a strange sense of longing, as if I were remembering something I had forgotten.
The next day, I tried to find out who had sent the music box. I asked my family and friends, but no one knew anything about it. I even went to the post office, but they couldn’t trace the sender.
I was starting to feel a bit uneasy. It was just a music box, but it felt like it was more than that. It was as if it was trying to tell me something.
That night, as I was listening to the music, I noticed something strange. The floral patterns on the box seemed to be moving. They were slowly changing, as if they were growing and blooming.
I stared at the box in disbelief. It was impossible, but I was seeing it with my own eyes. The music box was alive.
I didn’t know what to do. I was scared, but I was also curious. I wanted to know what the music box was, and what it wanted from me.
I decided to keep the music box and see what would happen. I knew it was a dangerous decision, but I couldn’t help myself. I felt drawn to it, as if it were a part of me.
The next few days were strange and unsettling. The music box continued to play its melody, and the floral patterns continued to change. I started to feel like I was losing my grip on reality.
I was having strange dreams, and I was starting to see things that weren’t there. I felt like I was being watched, and I was starting to feel like I was losing my mind.
I knew I had to do something, but I didn’t know what. I was trapped in a world of music and mystery, and I didn’t know how to escape.
One night, as I was listening to the music, I saw a figure appear in the corner of my room. It was a woman, dressed in a long, flowing gown. She was beautiful, but she had a sad look in her eyes.
She looked at me and smiled. Then, she raised her hand and pointed at the music box.
I knew then that the music box was the key to everything. It was the key to the mystery, and it was the key to my destiny.
I reached out and touched the music box. As I did, I felt a surge of energy flow through me. I closed my eyes, and I was transported to another world.
It was a world of music and magic, a world that I had never seen before. It was a world that was both beautiful and terrifying.
I knew then that my life would never be the same again. I had been chosen, and I had a destiny to fulfill.
I opened my eyes, and I was back in my room. The woman was gone, but the music box was still there. It was still playing its melody, and the floral patterns were still changing.
I knew what I had to do. I had to follow the music, and I had to find out what my destiny was.
I picked up the music box and held it close to my heart. I knew that it was the key to everything, and I knew that I had to follow it, no matter where it led me.
My journey had just begun.
So, Odile makes that face when she gets fucked in the ass.
That’s a stimulating realization.
Besides that, a trembling voice as if about to burst into tears, yet with the corners of her mouth lifted in joy and elation.
Even her eyes, as alluringly wet as a succubus’s.
Each and every detail stimulates desire.
And then.
“Assistant… what do I do?”
Odile looked at Siwoo, seemingly embarrassed.
“I… I can’t move anymore. It feels like my body’s been skewered…”
Odile hugged Siwoo’s neck and froze completely. It was too much for a girl who still knew nothing about men. Odile wiggled her toes as if she had a cramp, then just clung to Siwoo.
“I think… you need to move, Assistant… You don’t like it, do you? I forced myself on you even though you told me not to… You hate me, don’t you?”
What should she say?
Now that they were one, telling her to stop would probably be the best thing to do.
“U-Unnie?”
Then, Odet’s voice, which she had forgotten for a while, was heard from the corner of the room.
He seemed much more normal than before, as if he had regained his reason.
“Oh my god! Is, is he… making a baby with the assistant…?”
“Odette, don’t worry. There’s no way I’d do something that stupid. I did it the safe way.”
“The safe… way?”
Odette covered her mouth with her hand and slowly walked towards the sofa where Siwoo and Odile were intertwined.
And as soon as she saw his thick member lodged in Odile’s rear, her eyes spun.
“Ah…”
It seemed to be too much of a shock for Odette to handle.
Odette put her hand on her forehead and collapsed like a scarecrow.
Fainted.
While briefly looking down at Odette as if dumbfounded, the sanity that had disappeared from Odile’s eyes returned.
Odile shook her head several times as if she had been on a dizzying ride.
“W-what, what is this?”
It couldn’t have been an hour yet, could it?
Siwoo glanced at his watch without thinking.
No.
It was just that so many things had happened like a storm that he hadn’t been able to properly gauge the time, but it had already been an hour and a half.
Odile checked her situation like someone who had been hypnotized and then released.
Her bare lower body, her arms fiercely hugging him.
And the vivid pressure felt in my back passage.
The day I turned twenty, I received a strange gift.
It was a small, old-fashioned music box. The kind you’d see in a dusty antique shop. The box was made of dark wood, and the surface was worn, as if it had been touched by countless hands. The only decoration was a small, tarnished silver clasp.
I didn’t know who had sent it. There was no sender’s name on the package, just my name and address written in neat, elegant handwriting. I was curious, so I opened the box.
A delicate melody began to play. It was a tune I had never heard before, yet it felt strangely familiar, like a forgotten memory. The sound was clear and bright, like tiny bells ringing in a distant forest.
As I listened, the room around me seemed to blur. The walls began to shimmer, and the familiar objects in my room seemed to fade away. I felt a strange sensation, as if I were being pulled into the music itself.
Then, everything went black.
When I opened my eyes again, I was no longer in my room. I was standing in a place I had never seen before. It was a forest, but not like any forest I knew. The trees were tall and slender, with leaves that shimmered like silver. The air was filled with a sweet, floral scent, and the ground was covered in soft, mossy grass.
I was scared, but also strangely excited. It was like stepping into a dream, or a fairy tale. I didn’t know where I was, or how I had gotten there, but I knew one thing: my life had just changed forever.
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Chapter 1: The Mysterious Music Box
Odile glanced down sharply.
“I… I did this…?”
“Ohdil, sir… if you’ve come to your senses now, could you please come down…? It’s getting a little tiring.”
Odile looked at Siwoo in shock. Her wide eyes seemed unable to accept that she had done such a thing.
“What… what is this…!”
The sky was a canvas of deep indigo, the stars like scattered diamonds. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. I pulled my coat tighter, the collar scratching against my neck. It was late, past midnight, and the only sound was the rhythmic crunch of my boots on the gravel path.
I wasn’t supposed to be here. Not tonight. Not ever, really. This place, the old observatory, was a relic of a forgotten time, a monument to dreams that had long since faded. But here I was, drawn by an invisible thread, a whisper in the back of my mind.
The heavy wooden door creaked open as I pushed, the sound echoing in the stillness. Dust motes danced in the beam of my flashlight, illuminating the interior. It was a mess, a chaotic jumble of broken equipment, scattered papers, and cobwebs that hung like macabre decorations. The air was thick with the smell of decay and forgotten hopes.
I moved deeper into the observatory, my flashlight beam cutting through the darkness. The main room was dominated by a massive telescope, its brass fittings tarnished and dull. It was a magnificent piece of engineering, even in its current state of disrepair. I ran my hand along its cold, smooth surface, feeling a strange connection to the person who had once looked through it, searching the heavens for answers.
I found a small, wooden desk tucked away in a corner. It was covered in a layer of dust, but I could see the faint outlines of papers beneath. I carefully brushed away the dust, revealing a collection of handwritten notes, diagrams, and star charts. The handwriting was elegant, almost artistic, and the language was a mix of scientific jargon and poetic musings.
I spent hours poring over the papers, my mind racing to decipher the secrets they held. The notes spoke of a hidden constellation, a celestial anomaly that defied all known laws of physics. The diagrams were intricate, depicting strange patterns and symbols that seemed to vibrate with an otherworldly energy. The star charts were unlike anything I had ever seen, filled with constellations that were not recognized by any modern astronomy.
As I delved deeper into the mystery, I felt a growing sense of unease. The observatory seemed to be alive, its shadows shifting and whispering secrets. I could almost feel the presence of the person who had written these notes, their spirit lingering in the air.
I knew I should leave, that this place was not meant for me. But I couldn’t tear myself away. I was drawn to the mystery, to the possibility of discovering something extraordinary. I was a moth to a flame, and I knew that I was playing with fire.
The first rays of dawn began to paint the sky with hues of pink and orange. I looked up from the papers, startled by the sudden change in light. The observatory seemed to sigh, its shadows retreating into the corners. I knew that my time here was over, at least for now.
I carefully gathered the papers, placing them in my bag. I turned to leave, my heart pounding in my chest. As I reached the door, I glanced back at the telescope, its brass fittings gleaming in the morning light. I knew that I would be back, that the mystery of the hidden constellation would not let me go.
And all of the human muscles were closely related to emotions.
The old man’s face was a roadmap of wrinkles, each line a testament to the years he had weathered. His eyes, though clouded with age, still held a spark of mischief, and his hands, gnarled and calloused, moved with a surprising dexterity as he tended to his garden. He was a man of few words, but his actions spoke volumes, each gesture imbued with a quiet wisdom that only time could bestow.
The sun beat down on the small village, baking the earth and turning the air thick and heavy. The cicadas buzzed their relentless song, a monotonous drone that seemed to amplify the heat. Children ran through the narrow streets, their laughter echoing off the whitewashed walls, while the adults sought refuge in the shade, their conversations hushed and languid.
A young woman sat by the well, her gaze fixed on the horizon. Her name was Hana, and she was known throughout the village for her beauty and her sharp wit. But beneath her confident exterior lay a restless spirit, a yearning for something more than the quiet life she had always known. She dreamed of faraway lands, of bustling cities and grand adventures, and she often found herself gazing at the distant mountains, wondering what lay beyond.
One day, a stranger arrived in the village. He was tall and lean, with eyes as dark as the night sky and a smile that could melt the coldest heart. He spoke in a language that was unfamiliar to the villagers, and his clothes were unlike anything they had ever seen. He carried a worn leather satchel, and as he walked through the village, he seemed to observe everything with a keen and curious gaze.
The villagers were wary of him at first, but his gentle demeanor and his willingness to help soon won them over. He helped the farmers with their crops, he mended the broken fences, and he even taught the children new games. He never spoke of his past, and he never revealed his true purpose, but he quickly became an integral part of the village life.
Hana found herself drawn to him, captivated by his mysterious aura and his quiet strength. She spent hours talking to him, listening to his stories of faraway lands and his tales of adventure. She felt a connection to him that she had never felt with anyone else, and she knew that her life would never be the same.
One evening, as the sun began to set, the stranger approached Hana. He looked at her with a deep intensity, and he spoke in a voice that was both gentle and firm. He told her that he was a traveler, a seeker of knowledge, and that he had been drawn to the village by a strange and powerful force. He told her that he was leaving the next day, and he asked her if she would come with him.
Hana’s heart pounded in her chest. She had always dreamed of adventure, but she had never imagined that it would come in such a form. She looked at the stranger, at his dark eyes and his gentle smile, and she knew that she could not refuse. She nodded her head, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.
The next morning, as the sun rose over the mountains, Hana and the stranger left the village. They walked hand in hand, their hearts filled with hope and anticipation. They knew that their journey would be long and arduous, but they also knew that they would face it together. They were ready to embark on their adventure, ready to discover the secrets of the world, and ready to find their own destiny.
“Ugh…! W-wait a minute!”
“Huh?”
-Glurp!-
Odile felt Siwoo’s thing throbbing inside her stomach.
And then something warm began to spread inside her belly.
It was, needless to say, Siwoo’s semen shower.
“Hiss…hiss…uh…”
I was born in a small, secluded village nestled deep within the mountains. The village was so remote that even the most seasoned travelers rarely stumbled upon it. It was a place where time seemed to flow at a different pace, where the rhythm of life was dictated by the changing seasons and the gentle whispers of the wind.
My earliest memories are of the towering peaks that surrounded our village, their snow-capped summits piercing the sky like the teeth of some ancient beast. The forests that blanketed the lower slopes were a labyrinth of towering trees and tangled undergrowth, teeming with life both seen and unseen. It was in these forests that I spent much of my childhood, exploring the hidden paths and secret glades, learning the language of the wild.
The villagers were a hardy and self-sufficient people, their lives intertwined with the land. They were farmers, hunters, and craftsmen, each contributing their skills to the collective well-being of the community. They were also deeply spiritual, their beliefs rooted in the ancient traditions of our ancestors. They revered the mountains, the forests, and the rivers, seeing them not as mere resources but as living entities, imbued with a sacred power.
My grandmother, a woman of great wisdom and gentle spirit, was my first teacher. She taught me the names of the plants and animals, the secrets of the forest, and the stories of our people. She also taught me the importance of respect, humility, and compassion, values that would guide me throughout my life.
One day, as I was exploring a particularly dense part of the forest, I stumbled upon a hidden cave. The entrance was concealed behind a curtain of vines, and it was only by chance that I discovered it. Curiosity piqued, I pushed aside the vines and stepped inside.
The cave was dark and damp, the air heavy with the scent of earth and stone. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I noticed strange markings on the walls, symbols that seemed to writhe and dance in the flickering shadows. I had never seen anything like them before, and I was immediately captivated.
I spent hours in the cave that day, tracing the symbols with my fingers, trying to decipher their meaning. I felt a strange connection to them, as if they were speaking to me in a language I could not understand. It was then that I realized that my life was about to change, that I was destined for something more than the simple life of a villager.
From that day forward, I devoted myself to the study of the symbols, spending every spare moment in the cave, poring over the ancient markings. I learned that they were not just random scribbles but a complex system of writing, a language that had been forgotten by our people.
As I delved deeper into the mysteries of the symbols, I began to experience strange and unsettling visions. I saw images of distant lands, of towering cities and vast oceans, of people I had never met and events that had never happened. I realized that the symbols were not just a language but a gateway to other realms, a portal to the past, the present, and the future.
I knew that I had to share my discoveries with the villagers, but I also knew that they would not understand. They were simple people, content with their lives, and they would not be able to comprehend the power that I had stumbled upon. So I kept my secret, continuing my studies in the solitude of the cave, waiting for the day when I would be ready to reveal the truth.
Odile let out a strange moan, timed to the rhythm of his ejaculation.
It was something felt with only the slightest movement of his insignificant penis.
It was after everything was completely over, and the vibrations of his cock had subsided, that she spoke again.
“N-no way…”
Siwoo’s first time was in Odile’s backdoor.