Pop Singer: A Dark BWAM / AMBW Romance

by Asia Olanna

  Okay, I wouldn’t be so bold as to grab his crotch.

  But, girl, how I wanted to! His nose, so aquiline, so long. I would kill to have his head, kissing him on the lips, or maybe first on the cheeks, dragging my tongue down against his.

  Tasting his teeth, and biting on his mouth, his soft flesh, sending goosebumps all the way across his gentle toes.

  You could see him on the cover of magazines, shirtless, sometimes wearing nothing more than a Speedo.

  And the bulge!

  He had quite a bulge.

  Quite a sight to see and enjoy.

  Yes, I would grope him, yes, hold on to his balls, and pull down his Speedo all the way until it was around his knees, his cock ready to fire pre-come right into my mouth.

  Ooooooh, girl.

  I groped my pussy, squeezing my lips.

  The warm water entered my canal, flooding myself with a furious heat. I closed my hands around my pussy, feeling for my clit flicking back and forth. Touching the center, and then dragging my fingers down into my lips, feeling for the squirt, the heat and drama of a deep climax settled underneath my skin.

  Goosebumps crawled across the small of my back, down to the soles of my feet. I curled my toes, turning in the water, the fizz bomb still on my breasts, my nipples tightening up, pounding with heat.

  I bit my lip, thinking about how Jong-soo would go down on my pussy. He would open up his lips, and take in mine with his very own tongue.

  He would press the length of his taste buds deep into my canal, pressing inwards, all the way until he could not go any further. I would squeeze my thighs around his head, forcing my pussy against him, shaking and gyrating.

  “You’re like honey,” he would say. His hands groping my thighs, massaging down and underneath to my ass, where he would finger me. He would jut his fingers against the small of my back, pressing down against my spine, crawling upwards around my neck, his palms delicate and soft, but holding and tight like the man he was.

  When he needed to.

  When he wanted to.

  He would push me against the bathtub walls, slamming me shut my legs, making me squirt. His fingers now wrapping around my breasts, bobbing up and down with the fizz bombs.

  Then he would separate his hands, one on my breast, and then another down by my clit With gentle and soft movements, he would massage my clit going deep into my pussy the next moment, and then with his other hand, simultaneously, he would massage each and either breast, going to the center, wrapping around the areola, quickly pinching the center.

  My head bobbed up and down along the water, my hair drenched in fluid. I imagined it being drenched in his pre-come, stickying my hair together with the web of his sperm.

  Hot and fervent, his love. Passion inside of me, his mouth and tongue, his teeth biting gently against the hood of my pussy.

  Just a shock of electricity driving up into the center of my brain.

  I relaxed into the water, pressing my head against the back of the bathtub now, rolling over from the left and right, left and right. I found the Jacuzzi switch, flicking it on. All the while flicking my clit.

  Climax surfaced underneath my skin, rolling in waves from the center of my brain down to my feet, and then coming back as an aftershock deep into my chest. My pussy squeezed tight, my lips hard and heavy and hot.

  The contractions started from between my thighs, and I squeezed so tight, that I had to release squirt after squirt after squirt. I bit down on my lip, imagining Jong-soo’s hands swiveling onto my breasts, making me—

  I squirted so much, and the orgasm appeared, right underneath my breasts, swiveling down into my pussy, exploding there at the very core of my body, in waves like a tsunami, a typhoon-strength storm burying itself deep inside my dreams.

  Jong-soo! Jong-soo! Jong-soo!

  I came so hard, my legs ached. I rolled over in the water, gripping the side of the bathtub. Jesus Christ, my body throbbed.

  Sitting there in the water, Jong-soo emerged from my dreams, whispering in my ear, “I’m coming for you. I’m coming for you.”

  He would say this as he sat next to me, strumming his cock, spurting pre-come against my waist, down the center of my breasts, against my pussy, impregnating me.

  Filling me up with his sperm, with love, with heat and vigor. Making me his, claiming me with his hands, rolling down my legs, massaging my feet, then his lips kissing my own, down by my pussy, and then against my mouth, his tongue brushing up against my teeth, entering me, everywhere, everywhere, everywhere.

  “I came for you,” he would say. “I came for you.”

  I languished with my arm against and off the side of the bathtub. I leaned over, huffing and puffing, like the story about the foxes—or was that the wolves—and red riding hood, and the little chimneys with pigs.

  Wolves!

  Jesus Christ, my head swirled, and I finally relaxed back into my personal sauna, my moment. My head settled down into a calmness, an uneasiness about life.

  I had made the right choice coming here to Korea. About entering the contest, and abstaining from my family and friends’ wills and whims. They would want me to forgo a five star resort, and for what? For fear of people being racist to me? Xenophobia? About not having the same old food markets and department stores?

  I pumped my arms in the air, smiling at myself, grinning at my own happiness and joy. “I’m so glad I came here,” I said aloud. “And everyone wanted me to stay behind? Bitch, please. I’m here now. And I’m so happy for it.”

  Although, I did not know exactly the length of how long the road to happiness would be.

  True happiness.

  Because the road was about to darken, and my storm was about to turn violent.

  Once I was done soaking up the warmth of my Jacuzzi, and after I had soaped up properly, I stood up in the bath, and rinsed myself off with a shower. Cleaning myself off with a bar of soap, I got out, and dried myself down.

  Jong-soo’s hands would grope me, grip me in the bathroom. Maybe he would press me against the wall, his lips around my neck, whispering gently into my ear, “I want to you. I need you. To have you is to live. To have you is to desire to want more. Of you. Only you.”

  I would close my eyes, gasping, groaning. I would want him all the same, telling him, “I’ve never met a man like you.”

  All of the cheesy stuff you would find in my imagination: I want you, I need you, I desire you.

  Going into my bedroom, I laid down, and pulled the covers over my body. Naked and underneath my bed, I closed my eyes, drifting off into a real dream, a network of spidery thoughts, a cobweb dungeon.

  Jong-soo came to me again, this time more realized than in the bathroom. My brain working at full power, making him a reality.

  We were standing in the middle of a café. Dressed up, me in high heels, him in a suit and tie. Me in a blouse and A-line skirt. My hair pulled back in a ponytail. His hair coiffed to perfection, gelled with a fine swab of high-end pomade, his cologne wetting my pussy lips.

  “How are you?” he said in Korean. “I’ve been missing you since the last time we went on a date.”

  “And I’ve been missing you. When you pound me hard at night, I can do nothing but think of you all day long.”

  “How about I take you to my bedroom right now?” Jong-soo bit his lips, tilting his head. “Right about now. Or in my car, I can take you there. How about it?”

  My lips were so wet. I crossed my legs, trying to be a lady. But I stroked myself through my panties. Soaked myself to my pantyhose. I squeezed my lips, a euphoric sensation traveling between my lips, and up to my spine, all the way inside my brain.

  “I—I want you right now. Take me!”

  Jong-soo Jeup reached across the table, his cufflinks glimmering in the light. I smiled at him, pushing my breasts forward.

  There were no other people in the dream now, the table underneath our arms evaporating into a mist. The distance closed between us. I reached across, and he held m
y hand, strongly. I fell against his chest, inhaling his scent, breathing in all of who he was—a popstar, a singer and—

  “If only you knew who I really was,” he said.

  I glanced up at him, surprised at my dream.

  But then he continued, drawing his hand across my breasts, pulling down my bra and panties, pressing his hands against the centers of my nipples. I groaned, rocking back and forth, side to side like I had done in the bathtub.

  Jong-soo groped around for my pussy lips, and his fingers dug into my flesh. I moaned now, my throat burning with hot air down my esophagus.

  I opened my mouth, wrapping my lips against his, tasting his teeth, dragging my tongue down the length of his mouth. Closing my lips, I sucked on his dense tongue, the weight of his flesh.

  His hands buried deep into my pussy now, flicking my clit, touching the edges of my hood.

  He sprawled his fingers, relaxing them into my pussy, pressing his muscular chest against my shoulders. His nipples were hard and solid against my belly, my legs wrapped around his Adonis belt, his ass and down his thighs. He squeezed his legs, flexing all of his musculature, letting me enjoy and cop a feel.

  God! If only American men could take care of themselves so much. If only everyday guys could be so…

  Enchanting?

  Devilishly handsome?

  Dreamlike, ethereal. My soul connected to his, taken away, spirited off to a distant world where I could be pleasured like this every single day…

  I just—

  Orgasmic pleasure thundered underneath my skin, rolling in long waves across my heart, ceaselessly, powerful like a nova explosion, a pressure building up inside of my head, blasting every single one of my brain cells with ecstasy and euphoria.

  My very soul splintered apart, torn away and shorn as if brought to the edge of a knife, all of the world troubles and worries blending away into nothing.

  I gripped Jong-soo’s skin, pressing my fingers into his back, dragging my nails across, letting my primal self mark him, make him mine. I needed this man to show me more, to make me feel like the beautiful woman I knew I was.

  “I love the way your skin is,” Jong-soo whispered. Dark and heavy, his voice escalating into deep sex. “I love your ebony glow.”

  I tilted my head backwards, falling, falling, falling until I hit a plush bed, surrounded by petals. In a dream state, in the dream world, we were there together enraptured by each other’s touch and feel, by each other’s scent and lust. If I were to take anymore, I might have climaxed right then and there…

  “Every single inch of you,” Jong-soo growled, “is delicious.”

  He opened his mouth down the length of my neck, biting into my skin, pressing his tongue with the impressions of his teeth.

  A cold and hot shock delivered an electrical euphoria into my heart’s systems, making it pound and throb, race like a spaceship through the ether.

  “Delicious,” he whispered, biting my earlobe, dropping his head along my abdomen, all the way to my pussy.

  He opened wide, dragging his tongue along the edge of my hood. Starting with my clit he used his fingers against the center, making me squirt.

  Then he pressed the tip of his tongue against the hole of my pussy, my entrance, widening me apart with his fingers, and then digging his face into my body.

  The rest of his tongue went inside, pleasuring me gently at first, swiveling around the entrance and hole with quick and efficient movements, and then dangerously so, making me want to climax over and over, a flush over my skin, a flash over my mind of euphoria and ecstasy combining together in triplicate—elegant beauty, a true coming—

  My skin throbbed, my pussy tightened up. Contractions united my soul in one movement, a complex song drifting about my head.

  “Oh, God,” I said. My arms splayed to the sides, and they opened up my pussy lips more. So that he could take me completely. So that he could drive his teeth against the edge of my hood, and show me the shock of my life!

  Jong-soo slicked my pussy lips with his tongue, and sucked and sucked and sucked. The suction and friction from his lips made my skin crawl now, made me burst alive with a euphoria down my throat, as if his cock was there, pumping pre-come into me.

  Then my skin flashed hot, and goosebumps erupted from my forearms all the way up to my shoulders.

  I moaned a long rolling groan.

  And then I came, thrashing about on the bed, my arms going haywire, left and right as if I were seizing up, touched by a punch, flailing, flailing like a fish out of water, made to breathe in air, unable to breathe underwater anymore.

  My body tightened together, and I thrust my legs from side to side, coiling them up around Jong-soo’s head, and then releasing them to the sides, banging them against the mattress.

  I groaned louder and louder, the waves of pleasure overtaking me, forcing me to lay there passionately, completely and utterly taken by Jong-soo Jeup.

  I turned my head to the side, broken apart into sweet pieces. My flesh throbbing, my soul singing. The song still in my head, that he wanted me, that he needed me, that he found me, “delicious.”

  “You’re delicious,” he whispered into my ear again, “absolutely a fine delight.”

  And like that, Jong-soo became unstable, the atoms of his body ripping away into nothingness, his hair being tossed aside like an old toupee. He whisked like an egg being made into batter, his body disappearing into blackness.

  I woke up breathing heavily. My pussy throbbed. My body ached, just as if he had been there with me. I glanced at my alarm clock on my phone.

  6 AM, still too early.

  I went back to sleep, dreaming about senseless nothing, but knowing I would return to the world were Jong-soo Jeup truly existed. Maybe I wouldn’t have sex with them, but—

  Girl, who was I kidding. I wanted to have sex with him. I wanted him to fuck me.

  ♥♥♥

  I woke up at around 8 AM the next morning. I was bright and early, ready to go. Coordinating with Higher Museum, I knew I would be picked up in only a couple of hours. Straight away, I would be brought down into Daegu and have myself a blast, finally.

  After all of that travel, after fighting with my dad, Latasha, and even myself about whether or not I was good enough to go—well, here I was! I turned on my iPhone, hopped out of bed, and grabbed my laptop.

  I wrote an email to Higher Museum. They responded practically immediately, as if they were waiting patiently on the other end.

  …don’t forget to do some last-minute sightseeing in Seoul! You’re going to miss it dearly.

  I thought it was a strange email at first, considering there is definitely no time for sightseeing.

  Should I have been seeing monuments? Were they going to grill me about the local art scene up here?

  Were they going to think me barbaric for not going out and experiencing city life upon my arrival in Korea?

  I didn’t want to seem like an outcast already! But I calmed myself down. This email came with a picture of a woman smiling, who I presumed was the person talking to me.

  Ming. Which sounded Chinese, not Korean. But I didn’t want to be overly judgmental. Maybe she was half?

  Going to the bathroom, I washed my face, took a quick shower, and got back out. Then I sifted through my wardrobe, finding what I would wear for the day. I wanted something casual but attention grabbing, something that would declare me as an artist but at the same time American. I wanted to make a stake on my claim as the sculptor, dressed to impress and all that.

  I chose a pair of wedge sandals, a floral sundress, and a long brimmed hat that went neatly around my head. I checked myself in the mirror before going, and then brushed my teeth.

  “I’m going to have a great day,” I said to myself. I had read online that if you talk yourself up, you would have a better day. So I repeated the phrase, “I’m going to have a great day. I’m going to have a…”

  Once they finished up, I gathered up my luggage and called up fo
r room service. The bellboy from yesterday blushed again, and I wondered why. He repeated what he had the night before, turning deep red.

  “Thank you,” I said, in Korean. I said it again in English, instinctively, still drawing upon my wealth of knowledge from the West. I would have to wean myself off speaking English so much.

  We went downstairs together, and then I found my cab waiting for me outside by the sidewalk. My bellhop put my bags inside the back.

  I stuffed myself in the passenger seat. The driver had a friendly face, whistling a Korean pop song. And this driver was older as well—it seemed the Korean wave had spread to the elders.