How I met my second husband
“Do you want to play Byeontae Game?”
I stared at the guy on the other side of my screen. His bedroom was simple, with a bed, table, monitor, and gaming chair.
Some guys had a shelf for books, collectibles, or a rack of clothes hanging on exposed rods.
Most rooms were white or had wallpaper.
A few had golden lights, pipes on the ceiling, an old-style home with shoji-like screens, or the sneaky ones — outdoors by a stairway, in a factory doing the night shift, in a park, or in his car.
This guy’s table was scattered with books. From his disheveled hair and T-shirt, he looked to be in college.
Early twenties or mid if he’d gone to the army first, which was mandatory in Korea. His black mask covered half of his face. Like many guys on the video chat app, his eyes were bright, black, with sexy
monoids.
The Byeontae Game 변태게임.
Yes, my first bait to the gateway of Korean guys. My goal is to prove two things and enjoy the third.
1. Korean guys aren’t the romantic, chivalrous, innocent guys in kdrama or kpop. They are as normal guys as everyone else.
2. MILFs are popular anywhere. Mommies are universally loved and, to those perverts, worth the fuck.
3. The most fun and challenging is pushing boundaries and corrupting more of those “innocent” Korean men’s minds. How far can I push them and myself?
Tempting, seeing, tasting, smelling, and feeling. Passion, running deep as it grows inside my body and theirs, exploding into a million stars.
I am unapologetic. Objectification is a two-way street. They gained as I did, too. And in this game of play, society’s rules are left out the door. There are no levels of speech and no age distinction.
The lion can be the lamb, and the young stud, the wolf.
I call it my social experiment. Husband, aka H, calls it bull. Who says I can’t enjoy the journey?
“Stop giving excuses,” H said. “You cheated on me. You had an affair. Admit it.”
“Okay. I was wrong.”
“Yes, you enjoy this,” H said.
“Of course I do.” It took me four months to come to this realization.
I am a hunter — a cougar by instinct.
The thrill of capturing a fish, savoring their lust as they plunged into mine—mixing minds and liquids, fantasizing and escaping to greater heights, has always been my dream.
“What’s a cougar?” Many of the guys ask. They are familiar with the MILF, but the mountain pussy is alien.
A cougar is a woman in her forties who loves younger men at least ten years younger than her — the hot and sexy woman who gives guys a hard-on. Fit to a T, there is no denying who I am.
Sex is a drug—a high that leaves me in a drowsy state of languidly. Guys like them are like lint to my fire, and I am there for them mentally, physically, and emotionally.
An ear listening to their woes, a naughty angel, a passionate dream, a dirty slut who fed into their needs.
“Byeontae game?” His eyes widened, and his lips lifted shyly.
This was what always got me—it made my heart flutter hard as I watched this supposedly innocent young man turn into a wolf.
“How do you play?” He asked.
“Ten questions.” I raised my hands. “Five you, five me. Sex questions…if I like them, I’ll show you my boobs.”
The rules were easy. No translations were needed. The universal language of sex sped through all doors. And big boobs were the international currency.
The first test passed. Korean men are also men.
Millions of women have fallen like dominoes to these Korean guys and still do, thinking these Cinderella men will be the perfect boyfriend and, with his parents’ approval, his precious wife.
Kwave brought yellow fever. Korean tourism is on a high. Seoul is the mecca where dreams are dashed and reality sets in.
But for me, baby cougar, the hunt began from a random chat app, and so did those fuck boys. This sumo match was to see who got the upper hand.
Second test. Age was just a number.
A fuck-you finger to the dick boy from another day, in another chat, who said, “Ajuumas 아줌마 suck!” from his bedroom, thinking trolling me from a computer screen was enough to tear my ego.
His disgust only stoked the flames in me. My naughty plan to corrupt Korean men’s minds was bon-firing.
MILFS was a real thing. Had I known earlier, I would have flaunted my assets — big boobs, big butt, small waist. BBW. All this time, I thought it was for big, black women.
Asian women weren’t sexualized this way. We were taught since birth that body objectification was bad, and slimness was the standard.
Having surfed through this chat app and in my journey to this point, I learned that Korean men, like all men, loved all body types, too.
Curvy, succulent breasts and wide hips were just as popular as skins of every color. Kbeauty existed because human hangers made clothes beautiful.
Women didn’t need to starve themselves. All of us are gorgeous in our way. It is time to free ourselves from the judging eyes of other women and small-minded men.
Venus wasn’t a wraith. Mother nature at her best was a MILF. She held the balls of men in her hands and helped seed the world with her lovers.
“Annyeonghaseyo 안녕하세요,” the college student said. “Eodiseo osyeossnayo 어디서 오셨나요?”
Two simple questions — Hi, and where are you from?
His smile and curiosity were enough to burst through my defenses. Here I was with my sunglasses on.
A tight blue hoodie zipped over a black lingerie dress and snuggled in lace were my prized boobies in size Ds.
We popped into a different chat app, hopefully safer, and he said, “Let’s play the game now.”
“What’s your favorite sex position?” I started first.
“Doggy,” he said.“Me too!” I grinned.
“When was your first sex?” he asked.
“College,” I said. “College,” he replied.
“Where did you have the most exciting sex?” I asked.
“Stairway…now, show me your boobs,” he said—a quick segue and to the point.
I unzipped slowly, letting my plump flesh fill in the space, dominoes of flesh.
He inhaled. I watched him reach down, his sneaky fingers and eyes never leaving my chest.
“How old?” He asked breathlessly. “Me, eighteen.”
“Close, seventeen and a half,” I replied. And then, my boobs sprang out with the sound of metal teeth unclasping, revealing my porcelain bouncy appendage.
He was in machine mode, jerking hard, already revealing his dick without shame.
I smiled. I couldn’t help it. His excitement was mine. I breathed in his lust. I enjoyed his attraction and wanted more.
“How about your pussy?” he asked in a raspy voice.
“Maybe?”
He showed me all of his dick in three-sixty, and because I liked him.
I gave in and showed him what he wanted, pulled out my dildo, and then it was on to the flash of hands, legs, mouth, private parts, and my toy.
Things moved fast and loud when emotions were high. I cum and watched him ejaculate.
White and thick. It was perfect timing, all I wanted. And that was how I met my ‘Second Husband.’