Sharp

[AJoeOfSubjectiveQuality]

As a GI stationed in Korea, I was unusual in that I had an American girlfriend; I'll call her Dorothy. Being unmarried, we officially had billets on post but lived together in a small apartment in the local ville.

Winters in Korea back in the day could be a shock even to seasoned Northerners. There are large flat plains, and at the time there were few trees so nothing would disrupt the cold wind coming down from the mountains in the north. It cut through any amount of winter garb and chilled you to the bone. I was coming home on a Saturday evening after stopping at the barracks to shower and change into civvies, but the cold night and a sixteen-hour shift didn't leave me in the mood for fun. I wanted nothing more than a warm bed.

Dorothy had traded shifts with our mutual friend Julie to have the day off, but she didn't share what she'd be doing with it. Suits; Dorothy enjoyed travelling to Seoul for shopping and sightseeing, neither of which were my cup of tea. When I got home, there were lights on but they were dimmed. That was unusual, but I was too tired to really notice in all honesty. Getting inside changed that, though; the apartment was lit with a score of little candles floating in bowls of sweet oil, and it was almost tropically hot. My first instinct was to call out, but it didn't feel right somehow. The quiet and the stillness ... well, it just felt right. I shed my nylon and wool cocoon, took off my shoes, and walked over to the closed bedroom door.

[AJoeOfSubjectiveQuality]

Dorothy had rolled up the bed and pushed it aside. The room was filled with those little candles; almost as bright as if the electric lights were turned on, but softer in that magical way that only a fire can bring. She was wearing a full hanbok, the Korean version of a Japanese kimono, had her hair up, and had really put a lot of time and effort into her makeup. Charitably, Dorothy wasn't a beauty. She had a roundish face which suffered from childhood acne scars. But tonight she was breathtakingly exotic and sexy. I was wearing decent jeans and a nice Coca-Cola shirt, but I felt slovenly compared to her.

There were two mats on the floor, and she was sitting on her knees on one of them; I intuited the other was for me, and so I sat, cross-legged (my knees couldn't take what she was doing.) She sat patiently, with a neutral expression, eyes demurely downcast. Between us were two Tanto knives, blades bare and glowing in the candlelight.

We sat there, silent and motionless, for a time. It was probably less than a minute, but the anticipation I was feeling made it seem like an hour. Then, wordlessly she picked up her dagger, leaned forward, and with two flicks sent the buttons of my shirt flying. She then turned the point and sliced it from neck to hem in one smooth stroke. I couldn't breathe; the blade was terrifyingly sharp and was only millimeters away from slicing my flesh. But she handled it like a surgeon, placed it back on the floor, and sat back and waited.

I knew what was expected of me, but now I was genuinely frighted ... for her. Unlike my shirt, the hanbok was thick and puffy with layers of cloth and I wasn't sure that I was up to the task she'd set for me now. But the tension in the air was incredibly arousing. I picked up my Tanto and, concentrating harder than I'd ever done in my life up until then, slit the sleeve of her hanbok from shoulder to wrist.

[AJoeOfSubjectiveQuality]

We worked on each other with those knives for hours, one careful slice at a time. As the clothing dropped to the floor in ribbons, we paused to tease. She lightly drew her blade from my jawline all the way down my chest. I stroked mine down her breast, tracing her nipple, and then caressing the underside. She kissed me while holding her blade against the side of my neck. I kissed her neck as I slid mine through the cloth down her back to her ankles. She had to be extra careful when she cut away my boxers, because my cock was straining to be free. I, too, had to be careful as I made her panties go away; her pussy was flushed with her arousal, and she was open like the most beautiful flower God ever gave to we humans. She drew the tip of her blade along the seam of my scrotum, up the shaft, and traced around the head of my cock; holding still was sweet agony. In return, I dragged the spine of mine along her pussy, letting the cold steel slide along her clit.

The blades went to the side and were forgotten then. Neither of us could restrain ourselves by then. She leapt onto my lap, and I held her hips as she guided me into her. We kissed in a frenzy as we held each other close, nipples rubbing together, her vulva gripping me like a vise. We couldn't sit still; I got to my feet and braced my back against the wall as she used her legs and hips to meet my frenzied thrusts. I'm eternally grateful that she was as turned on as I was, because neither of us lasted two minutes I think. Her pussy squeezed me in a death grip as she came, and that made me shoot my cum into her like I was doing Death Kegels.

I was down but not out, so I threw her onto her back and went down on her mercilessly, determined to make her beg for mercy. That didn't happen. When I was hard again, she twisted and went down on me as well. Another not-my-finest outing; she was an artiste when it came to blowjobs. She knew that I didn't mind a bit of teeth, and she knew exactly how much and when so I didn't last much longer than the first time. But that was alright. We fell asleep in each others' arms, nude amidst the rags, the end of a long, magnificent night which I've never forgotten.

All of my Korean lady neighbors laughed at me for days, and all I could do was grin back. Worth it.