we can’t be friends
Men and Women can’t be friends.
I stand by the HarryMetSally belief that sex and attraction get in the way. Don’t lie. You know it’s you, and if not, you know he/she likes you. Maybe a little, maybe more than a little.
We, humans, are naturally selfish. Even saints had their agendas. If we are not wanting sex, it’s for attention, career, money, and connections.
“Maybe, if she is ugly,” said a guy when I told him my men’s and women’s logic.
“You might not, but she is thinking of getting dirty with you,” I laughed. “Everyone has sex, Fugly or not.”
This brought me to the two times when the arm’s length came into play. This was when I met a Korean guy, who was the second guy who didn’t have sex with me after meeting because he said - “no.” An abnormality because guys met the MILF for a reason.
“I put girls in two groups,” he said. “Friends and relationship. For the friends, I won’t think of sex with them.”
“You don’t?” This was the reason why I met him. I was curious about his stubborn stance that he could differentiate and not feel the heat after seeing a woman’s skin.
This guy was my experiment that not all men are wolves. And that not every guy thinks with his dick. But was it naturally possible? Doesn’t the cock get hard whenever he wants to? What does it mean when a guy gets an erection when a willing girl is close by? Is it natural to have sex?
For starters, this Korean guy was more than average in hotness and height. His English was good because he studied overseas for two years and had nice manners. Most of all, he loved food, and being a foodie myself, we could talk for hours about this topic.
I met him to analyze this theory and to go out for something yummy. It was after his work, and he said he was ten minutes from me and would drop by to say hi.
I was excited. He seemed like a really nice guy, and being friends with him sounded good. I was hoping to get out and explore Seoul with a local. It was that second Summer of bad matches, and it was time to change the tide.
“Can I come to your room first and sleep a little?” He asked. “I had a very long day at work.”
It was a strange request, but it wasn’t the first. To be honest, I didn’t know him well compared to the two other guys who asked to sleep on my bed. I had known those guys for months, so I was OK with them crashing into my bed. I wished there was more to just sleeping. But when Korean guys said sleep, they meant sleep.
Disappointing.
Curious as to what he might do, I said okay.
“Hi?” he asked as he entered the elevator. This was my Korean playbook—fast-track dating as the elevator shot up to the sky.
He seemed decent enough. Okay, he passed, so I brought him to my room.
“Welcome to my room,” I smiled. “Sit, sleep, whatever. Make yourself comfortable,” I gestured and checked my phone. It was five p.m. “Shall we go for dinner in an hour?”
“Sure,” he said and dropped his backpack on a chair. He glanced at the room, out the window, and then back at me. His large, dark brown eyes took me in. Because he said we’d be friends, I wore a red V-neck blouse and tight jeans. My curves showed through anything I wore, but with these clothes, there wasn’t the usual easy access to my body parts. There was no special lingerie underneath because nothing was going to happen.
Days before we met, we chatted online about his body types and his sexual likes and dislikes. He loved curves, huge asses. It didn’t matter what race; he loved the big booties. I shared some of my pics and naughty Instagram account, but since the lures were not enough to change his stubborn mind, I was happy to go along.
I was ready to be friends, despite my interest. After the days of bad dates, I was excited about finally going out to eat in Seoul instead of watching delicious foods filmed in Insta reels.
He settled onto my bed and closed his eyes. I was working on my laptop when he started talking, asking whom I’d met and whether I enjoyed my stay in Seoul. I confided about my failed dates, and he apologized for my experiences.
“I don’t believe men and women can be friends,” I said.
“I have some friends who are girls,” he said again.
“Sex and attraction will still be there. There is no way one person doesn’t like the other more.”
“I can only say for myself,” he replied.
“Just admit you know the girls like you,” I said.
“Do they?” he smiled.
“Dude, you are so a playa,” I laughed.
“No. I’m a very nice guy,” he said.
This was true because his parents texted him and told him to go home for dinner because his dad was visiting, and he kept cursing and apologizing to me. “I swear I asked my mother, and they said nothing was on tonight. I won’t promise you something and break it.”
The reasons are always plenty. I couldn’t hide how I felt.
“I’ll show you their text,” he said, showing me his phone with his Kakao chat.
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t have dinner plans again.” I sighed.
“I’ll stay with you for a little longer and then go,” he said. “It takes an hour for me to go home.”
Our eyes met.
There was attraction. I saw him eyeing me over and over earlier and even now. “What do you want? So, what are we? Friends? For sure, we are not in a relationship.”
“I’ve never had a friend with benefits. I like to keep it simple,” he said.
“I know. So what now? Friends with benefits makes my argument true. And yours not.”
“You ask me what I want…” his eyes pinned on my breasts. “Can I touch them? What size are they?”
Yes, my melons are not Asian-sized. Again, another guy fell for my ‘luxury boobies goods,’ as a Korean guy called them. I call them - Gucci and Hermes.
“Size Ds. Or two iPhone 14s,” I laughed. My standard joke. Lame tease. “If one boob is two iPhone14 and one ass cheek is four iPhone 14, how many iPhone14s do you need?”
“Dunno…” his eyes were transfixed on my boobs.
Wrong answer. It should be - many hands, but whatever. His brain was far gone as he reached for my heavy breasts as I leaned back against the bed and let him explore.
Since when did I become so brazen? How was I okay with strangers touching me? Two years ago, when I had my first start, and was freaking out about it, but now, touch was natural as nature itself.
What was the big deal with skinship? Maybe it was because I was always a hugger, and taking this next step, where hands explored more than a deep hug, seemed normal. I didn’t mind sharing my body and love. It made me feel comforted as I comforted someone else. Plus, it felt good. I’m not saying I let anyone touch me.
The MILF cougar chooses her fish.
His eyes were shining in awe as his hands massaged my boobs, gently at first and then squeezing and pinching after. They always love to pinch my nipples. “I see your pics so many times on Insta…your nipples are very big.”
A bullseye. I was built for being a mommy. I can still remember being in high school when a particular boy kept shouting “Mommy” at me whenever I ran past him at PE. He used to bully me so much that I cried, and other fourteen-year-old boys used to steal my uniform and trick me into wearing their shirts.
Was it the start of their interest in boobs? Did wearing their shirts on my skin and not being able to button up because my boobs were big to make them excited? Were those teenage boys erected when I did that? Did they like wearing my shirt?
I leaned back on the bed as both his hands explored the rest of my body.
“They are so big in my hands,” he said.
“Yeah…” I sighed. “If you think those are big, you haven’t touched my ass yet.”
“Can I?” His voice cracked.
“Are we still friends?” I asked cheekily.
“Can I touch your ass?” His hands dropped to my hips, and I turned around with my ass facing his face.
His hands went up and down and squeezing my butt and murmuring to himself.
“Haven’t you touched girls’ asses before? Isn’t this your most favorite thing?” Yes. He was a huge fan of the junk in the trunk.
“Yes. No, I haven’t…so large. I’ve only touched my ex. I like black girls because their ass are big.”
“Well, you got yourself a chance with an Asian MILF one,” I giggled.
He wasn’t speaking. He pushed me down on the bed. His body crashed into mine. His jeans rubbed my smooth, firm skin, dry humping, and murmuring as he pushed himself against me over and over again.
“We can’t have sex. I only have sex in a relationship,” he said.
“Okay. We won’t,” I said and moved away, but he grabbed me and pulled me under him. “But we can do this…can you take your clothes off…?”
That dirty boy. Asking for everything and I wasn’t going to get my meal and I was still being accommodating for a reason.
I unzipped, stripping slowly and watching him as he feasted his eyes on me. First, the red blouse over my head and pulling aside my coffee-brown shoulder-length curls and then my black laced bra which got caught with my hair. He reached eagerly helping me untangle my hair from the strap.
His breath was hot against my ear. I turned to meet his lips, and he pulled away. “No…no..we can’t.”
“Why not?” My voice dropped. My corruption was close.
“I’m scared of STDs and sex diseases. You met so many guys.”
The hypocrisy of it all — wanting the sexual experience but not wanting the risks. Wanting the dirty fun and expecting a virgin who only had one man.
“It’s okay. I’m clean, had protection, but I get it…” I pulled away. “Let’s not play.” He grabbed me.
“But I can watch you and touch you, right?” he asked.
“How is that fun for me?” I asked. Perhaps I’m too good at what I did. My flasher fetish fed on their horniness, so it was okay to some extent. But how much was the cougar gonna give and not get in return? “I want my orgasm too.”
“I can touch you,” he said.
“That’s not enough. I want to see your cock too,” I smirked.
“Okay but no sex. I’ll wash my hands. You too.” He walked to the bathroom.
“You don’t want a blow job?” I followed him. No one has ever refused a BJ.
“No sex…” He stared at my mouth and then at my breasts.
“Do you want to suck my nipples?” I squeezed my boobs together and plucked at my nipples. I watched him swallow as temptation flashed through his face.
“No…just touch is enough…” he said but I saw the way his eyes shifted, holding back his greed.
I pulled down my jeans and waited till he stripped to his underwear. “Keep your underwear,” he said.
I played with his hard dick, and he played with my wet pussy and squeezed my breasts and suddenly flipped me over and dry-humped me. His warm, taut skin and abs rubbed against my back as he groaned and moaned.
Was this skinship or skin-to-skin? Where did friendship end and sex start? My underwear was wet, and so was his.
“Can I do this too?” he asked as his fingers skirted past my panties and touched my pussy.
“Dude. What are you doing?” I gasped, and he pushed me deep into the bed and came above me. His eyes were dilating.
I have pulled out a wolf. The cub was gone.
Before I could reply, he penetrated my wet pussy hard, and I arched my back and moaned. Faster and faster, hard and slow, he went in and out and watched with crazy dark eyes. Watching as waves of tingling sensations rolled through my body.
“Do you like it?” His voice was hoarse. “Bitch. You want more?”
I grabbed his arm, but he swiped it off. His breath was against my cheek as he leaned in close. My hands against his hard, smooth abs. His hard erection against my thigh as his hand kept thrusting.
The wave was coming. Tsunami rising. Fuck friendship. This guy was such a liar.
But who cared? Another round of his skilled fingers and I came.