So, it all started with my job teaching English to Korean business men. I'd been doing it for over two years, and knew the usual type: the adjosshi. 50ish; married; two kids in middle school; drinking soju after working a 14 hour day; kissing the arses of their boss and customers; generally nice, but aging, boring, and miserable.
Then, I met Jae Sung. I was assigned to teach him from March: Level 1 English. My co-worker, John, a 50-something man, had been teaching him beforehand, and had rushed through the first few chapters of the book. I went in there wondering if he was an advanced level 1, or if John had just gone too fast, as he often did. In front of me was a cute, if not drop-dead-gorgeous, Korean guy; 30ish, some stylish facial hair, broad shoulders, well-dressed, with a motorbike helmet sitting beside him....Jae Sung. I had a boyfriend at the time, so I was happy to just get to know him, and appreciate him as someone who it wasn't a burden to spend our hour-long classes with, three times a week.
As I got to know him better, I realised that on top of being good looking and stylish, Jae Sung was also a really nice guy, as well as being very interesting. His hobbies were mountain and rock climbing, hiking and camping, and he owned his own business importing high-end cars from Germany and Italy. I quickly came to learn that John had indeed rushed too quickly through the first two chapters, and that Jae Sung was not an advanced level one. But despite our language differences, I felt myself becoming more and more attracted to him.
Jae Sung had a girlfriend, which I was disappointed to hear, but seemed to have no plans to get married anytime soon. In any case, I was also in a relationship, so it was academic. A few times I caught myself wondering if I would break up with my boyfriend (a relationship I valued, but felt wasn't going anywhere), if I thought it looked like something might happen between Jae Sung and me. In May, my thoughts took a step from academic to practical: my boyfriend broke up with me. I was quite upset, but pretty soon, my thoughts turned to Jae Sung. How attached was he to his girlfriend? He was 32 and had told me that he had no plans to get married any time soon. This is unusual for a Korean man – most are married by that age. Maybe he wasn't that serious about her. I was nearly 31, so I felt like he was the perfect age for me.
From there, things started to get complicated. Each day after my breakup, I found myself becoming more and more attracted to Jae Sung. I couldn't stop thinking about him. I'd be in other classes and find myself fantasising about being in bed with him, riding him, his hands on my breasts and arse, stroking the curves that his Korean girlfriend didn't have. Then I'd be pulled back to the reality of another adjosshi, sitting in front of me, mispronouncing "th".
I felt that I needed to do something to create an opportunity, so I asked Jae Sung if he wanted to do language exchange, as well as him taking English lessons. He said yes, and we agreed to meet in Starbucks on Thursday evening. The class went well, despite the fact he had no teaching experience and I actually felt like I learned something. We were having such a good time I suggested that we go for a beer afterward, so we adjourned to a hof round the corner. We had some drinks, speaking in a combination of English and Korean, often grabbing the English/Korean dictionary to find a word. During the course of the evening, it came out that he'd broken up with his girlfriend a few weeks before. I told him that the same thing had happened to me, and we commiserated about our love lives for a little while.
At some point, I wanted to show him something, and ended up sitting next to him, our heads close together, discussing some not-so-fine point of English or Korean. Our bodies were almost touching, and our hands touching often, and not-so-accidently. At some point I looked at him, and he was looking at me, and then we kissed. Softly. Slowly. Oh. My. God. I've never had a first kiss like it. His hand had reached up to stroke my face and hair. His tongue pushed against mine perfectly. Not too much and not too little. His lips...wow..so soft, so perfect. My stomach was turning somersaults. I couldn't believe that I felt like I was back in high school again.
I wanted him so badly. I could already feel that my undies were soaked. His right hand went to my waist and found the gap between my skirt and top, and was caressing my belly; stroking my pale skin. We pulled back for a moment and looked into each others eyes. "Beautiful" was the only word he said, and he stroked his hand down the side of my face. We continued our kissing for a little longer, glad of our inconspicuous table in the corner. I had my hands on his torso, feeling the tight muscles of an athlete, revelling in this fit body: a man in his prime.
After a little longer, I didn't think I could last any more.
"ka ja," I said. Let's go.
"oedi?" he replied. Where?
"woori jip." My place.
I guess he got the idea, because he stood up and pulled me up with him.
"Let's go," he said.
We went outside and I went to hail a taxi. He looked at me confused, then smiled, holding up his motorbike helmet! Hmmm...I had a skirt on, but thought: what the hell? It's not far. He gave me the helmet when we got to his bike, which I suddenly remembered was a Harley. How fucking hot can you get!? Putting the helmet on, I jumped on the bike. He hopped on in front of me and started it, the engine loud, deep, and throbbing. If I was already turned on – and I was – the vibration drove me crazy. It rumbled through me, thrumming my pussy. I pushed close to him (I had to give him directions of course!), my skirt riding up over my thighs, my pussy pushing toward his tight arse. I wrapped my arms around his waist, finding the gap between his t-shirt and jeans, caressing the skin of his torso as we rode.
I somehow managed to direct him home that night, and brought him to my apartment. As we got inside I was glad that I had cleaned a little that afternoon, and could give him somewhere to sit while I fixed him a drink. After giving him the drink, I retired to the bathroom to "freshen up" a little, and came back to a glass hardly touched, and hungry eyes, drinking me in. He stood up and reached out to me, taking me in his arms. I fell in, happily, and lost myself in our kiss. His hands found the gap at my waist again, but this time roamed farther in, stroking my torso up and down, brushing over my breasts and hips, and teasing the top of my pubic mound through my undies. He took my top and lifted it over my head, then stood back to look at me again.
"Beautiful," he said again.
He came forward again and unzipped my skirt. I stepped out of it, and stood in front of him in my underwear, aware of my white skin and blonde hair, compared to his black hair and darker skin. He stood up, and ran his hands over my upper arms and back, noting the defined muscles.
"You strong Beth," he said, forgetting his verb, but pronouncing my name correctly. I hardly noticed the verb, but did notice that his clothes were still on. I pulled his t-shirt over his head, and ran my fingers down his almost hairless chest, scraping his nipples with my nails. He breathed a shaky breath and kissed me again. My hands continued towards his jeans and undid the button fly, popping the buttons one at a time. I reached inside, lightly brushing his erect cock inside his underwear, then reached around behind to cup his arse in my hand and kiss him again.
