Day 9 · Watermelon Popsicle

Hot summer nights were a bitch when the AC was broken. 

You would think the weather would cool down around midnight hours, but no fucking dice, and the fan was just blowing hot air towards your face at this point. After briefly contemplating sleeping in front of your fridge, you decided to drop by the convenience store downstairs to replenish your cold drink stash and freeload their air conditioning for a while. You left the apartment with whatever you had on—an oversized t-shirt and shorts, perfect for the comfort of your home, and you weren’t about to change to go across the goddamn street at this hour.

You kinda wished you did when you walked into the store. 

There was someone you’d never seen there before, and he looked so stunning that you almost forgot the original purpose of your visit. He could legitimately be a model. Sharpest features you’d ever seen. Eyes that could kill. Bulging veins on his thick forearms.

Which was exactly why it blew your fucking mind that this delicious thing was working at a damn convenience store. How come he wasn’t discovered by some talent scout already?

The new cashier behind the register was eating a reddish pink popsicle while watching something on his phone, and it was a completely normal sight to an average person. People in possession of your dirty mind, however, would hyperfocus on the slender and long shape of the frozen treat, and wouldn’t be able to unsee how those plush lips were obscenely sucking on it as though performing a sloppy blowjob.

Was he aware of how this came across, or…?

You walked to the reach-in refrigerator while mouthing a silent ‘Oh my fucking god’ to yourself, then headed back to the register once you were done cooling off. The sex god reincarnate scanned the items one by one, super aloof, but still refusing to let go of the popsicle in his mouth.

“19.75,” he finally declared with his eyes glued to the screen in front of him.

“Minho,” you read the name tag he had on the left side of his chest and pointed at the ice cream, “Which flavor?”

“Watermelon,” he uttered while bagging your drinks, resolute to not meet your gaze.

He seemed like a recluse. You had to pull the words out of him with a tweezer since he barely spoke except for the required answers, but fucking god he was just so damn beautiful, perfect subject to your female gaze. 

“Do you have any other flavors?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t talk much, do you?” you softly chuckled. 

When he heard the pleasant notes of your quiet laughter, he finally looked up at you, but his eyes inadvertently slid to your chest area. White shirt without a bra under plus the AC cranked up to the maximum equaled a perfect display of your breasts right in front of his face. He didn’t answer you and swallowed thickly, the rosy tint at the tip of his ears getting darker with each passing second.

Really? Just with the masked sight of some tits?

Oh, this poor guy was probably a virgin or something, wasn’t he? Never saw a pussy up close in his life, didn’t know what a pair of breasts felt like under his touch. Your mind suddenly started running at full speed. 

The things you would do to corrupt this beauty rotten…

“I’ll see you around, Minho,” you emphatically uttered his name and left the store.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him after going back home, pacing in your apartment for some reason. You eventually peeked through your curtains wondering if you would be able to see him from three floors up, and there he was. From an overhead view, you could actually see him spreading his legs on the stool behind that counter right next to the door, still with his popsicle, slurping away, but his other hand… was busy.

Five minutes after you left the premises, the guy was indeed rubbing one out. 

You weren’t saying that you were the reason for it, but considering the sequence of the events, you weren’t not saying it. Your hand reached under your shorts, and you started playing with yourself to how fervently he was masturbating.

What was he thinking of? Was it you? Was it some porn he was watching when you walked into the store? Was he already hard when you were there? 

You couldn’t help it. All you were imagining was how he would be a whimpering mess if you walked downstairs right at that moment and straddled him, his huge brown eyes looking up at you, listening to every instruction carefully. You would show him what it was like to fuck someone senseless. You would teach him how to properly eat pussy. You would introduce him to the kinds of pleasure he wouldn’t even be able to think about in his wildest dreams.

How wild were his dreams anyway? You would be surprised if it went past touching someone’s genitals.

That night in front of that window, you had one of the most intense orgasms of your life, which instantly prompted you to pick up a Minho-teasing habit.

A couple of days later day you went there again a little after midnight, properly changed this time and with all the ulterior motives you could carry with you. Low-cut jeans to flash the g-string you were wearing, crop top leather jacket so that he would see your lower back tattoo. When you walked into the store, Minho looked towards the door with the little alarm informing him of someone’s arrival, and his lips parted seeing you. Even though you felt his eyes on you, you didn’t pay any attention and walked around the store for a while, picking up items from different shelves, then went to the very end of the aisle directly in his vision and stood in front of the reach-in refrigerator. Out of everything you could pick, you decided to pick something among the fizzy drinks, which just happened to be on the bottom shelf. You opened the door and bent over all the way down, spending an unnecessarily long time in front of the chilly air blowing towards your face with your hips sticking out, then headed to the register.

You put all the items on the counter and waited for him to scan them, staring at him all the while with a demonic smirk. Peanut butter, condoms, lube, whipped cream, and tonic water for some reason.

“48.60.”

You reached for your purse and started looking for your wallet while Minho was in the middle of severely malfunctioning. He was gawking at your breasts again as if ogling your ass a minute ago did not get him hard enough, and he was thanking everything he could think of that you weren’t able to see through this counter.

“You okay?” you woke him up from his daydreaming, “You’re sweating.”

Getting caught red-handed staring at your chest, Minho got super flustered for a second there, but he was quick to recollect himself and land on his feet.

“I’m fine.”

“Can I also get a bottle of gin?” you pointed at the alcohol shelf behind him.

You weren’t exactly in the mood for a gin and tonic. You just wanted him to walk a few steps back so that you could reap what you sow. In its full glory.

A mouthwatering hard on.

“You liked what you saw I guess,” you quipped with an entertained smile.

He didn’t answer and got to his popsicle again. You put a lot more than the required amount on the counter as you were about to leave.

“Keep the change.”

Right when you were about to walk outside, you suddenly turned back around and leaned over the counter to suck on his popsicle as deep as you could looking dead into his eyes. The total blue screen he was giving was even more satisfying than the orgasm you had several nights before.

“Imagine what would happen if this was your cock. I have no gag reflex,” you spoke utterly seriously, “Good night, Minho.”

You were throwing an internal laughter fit for how cute he was for getting that hard that easily. Once you got back home, you didn’t turn on your lights and walked to your window to see what he was up to. There he was again, hiding his lower body behind the counter and going at it like someone was running after him. Shortly after, he shot a sizable load inside an empty water bottle suspiciously waiting by his feet.

You were already planning how to fry his brain for your next encounter, and you knew it had to be more outrageous. This beauty was working midnight hours all by himself; he deserved a little entertainment.

That Saturday night, you opened your wardrobe and picked out the star player of your plan. The shortest skirt you could find. The rest was irrelevant. Then you headed downstairs with your wallet in your hand. 

The familiar sound of the alarm going off around these hours was like a notification for Minho that you walked into the store. You established brief eye contact with him and started walking towards your usual aisle, but for the first time in an entire week, you heard Minho’s voice calling out to you rather than providing a curt answer to some question.

“The popsicles are half off,” he uttered from his seat completely unprompted.

“Oh, are they? Change of plans I guess,” you turned around to face him, “Where’s the freezer?”

He pointed towards the left of the store signaling you to take a turn at the end of the aisle. You spun on your heels to follow the given direction, but just happened to drop your wallet before you could turn left. Instead of a graceful landing, you reached down without bending your knees to give Minho a perfect view of what you looked like bare under your skirt. Then you went towards the popsicles as if nothing happened, internally laughing at what his face was going to look like once you went back to the register.

He was a recluse; he didn’t talk much; and he was prone to provocation. At least that was what you thought of him. 

You most certainly did not expect him to appear right next to you as you were sliding the storage door close with a watermelon popsicle in your hand. It surprised you, albeit very pleasantly, and you broke into a small grin while leaning against the freezer, watching him come close to you. It was cold against your bare legs, but the heatwaves Minho was radiating towards you were melting it instantly. All this time, you thought you had him wrapped around your finger whereas…

“Pull up your skirt,” he spoke in a very low tone and placed his hands on either side of you.

The serial masturbator who couldn’t look you in the eye, who couldn’t even wait to go home to rub one out, or be bothered to get some privacy for that matter, was telling you what to do. 

Since when was he capable of being so bold?

He was staring at you daringly, eyes slightly squinted, and you had no idea why it was turning you on that much. You reached for the hem of your skirt and pulled it up, confirming once and for all that he wasn’t having a fucking fever dream mere moments ago.

“Spread,” he demanded with his eyes glued to your crotch, “I wanna see.”

You slowly peeled your legs apart from each other and put your pussy on full display for him. His mouth was watering so much that he felt the need to swallow in order not to choke on his own spit.

“You can touch,” you encouraged him with a sprinkle of derision, “if you’re not gonna blow.”

“Why would I?” he cocked a single brow.

“You tell me. You’re the one getting super hard at the mere sight of some tits.”

“You’re convinced I’m a virgin, aren’t you?”

He had an immensely satisfied smirk on his stupidly handsome face, and you could tell he was waiting for your jaw to drop at the revelation. It would be a lie to say that you weren’t surprised, but weren’t going to give him the satisfaction. How unfazed you were was adding heaps to the tension building between you, and you were absolutely loving it. 

“So, you aren’t?” you asked with your nonchalance intact and guided his hand in between your legs.

“No,” he pouted his lips, “I’m just very horny all the time.” 

He touched your moist folds with his middle finger, then looked up at you with his pupils blown wide.

“Especially when pretty girls flash for me.”

Minho’s lips were so soft in your mouth that you were dying to have those munch on your clit. When he deepened the kiss, you clasped your hands behind his nape, and he wrapped one arm around your waist, his other hand still deliciously teasing you.

“Virgin, huh?” he chuckled to himself and nibbled on your earlobe, “I’d love to see your face when you read the kinda rap sheet I have.” 

“Stop getting so cocky. Kissing isn’t exactly rap sheet material.”

“I don’t kiss. I seduce,” he declared with even more bloated self-confidence and caressed your cunt, “I don’t have people lining up for me to give head for nothing.”

“The talk is sexy, but are you gonna walk the walk, or what?”

He reached for the popsicle you put on top of the freezer, now threatening to start melting, and ripped the packaging. One hand pulling your top to your neck, he dragged the frozen stick down your breasts and smeared it all over your nipples.

“Cold?” he asked brushing the goosebumps breaking on your skin.

“I like it,” you licked your lips, looking at the clear red drops clinging to you, “You’re sure you’re not gonna get in trouble for this?”

“Then they shouldn’t have given me the graveyard shift,” he drew a couple of circles around the hardened skin, “Everybody knows past midnight is peak horny hours.”

He closed his mouth on your watermelon flavored breasts and started sucking on them, and you closed your eyes heaving a deep sigh. You flinched in your place when you felt the sudden sharp cold on your clit, lazily gliding down to your folds.

“There’s a reason why this is the perfect summer treat, you know,” Minho looked into your eyes then kneeled before you.

He slurped on the popsicle once then latched his lips to your clit, contently sucking on the sticky shapes he drew with his eyes closed. You ran your fingers through his soft hair and started rolling your hips on his mouth, syncing your rhythm to a pleasant cruising speed.

“Wanted to fuck the virgin guy. You’re one of those, huh?” he let out an amused chortle, “You think a virgin guy could come up with this?”

You felt the tip of the ice cream prodding your entrance, then slowly sinking inside you. The chill was spreading from your core to the rest of your body with every pump of your heart, and your synapses weren’t able to register the right temperature—it was simply paradoxical. Minho’s cold mouth on your clit, the warmth of his tongue gliding all over you, the frost of the popsicle he was fucking you with, and your body in flames with unadulterated lust.

“Here, I got some frosting on it for you,” he pulled out the frozen stick and handed it to you, “Now show me how you don’t have a gag reflex.”

He went back to slurping on your slick with his big eyes looking up at you all expectantly. You took as much of the ice cream as you could inside your mouth, a raging itch at the back of your brain wondering what Minho’s cum on it would taste like on your tongue. The deeper you sucked on it, the more eagerly he lapped at your pussy, licking and sucking each drop that landed on his tongue.

“You got some nerve coming here with no underwear on when you goddamn know I’m not gonna pull out,” he taunted with a beautifully sinister smile, “It’s gonna drip down your legs the whole way back home now. Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

“You wanna take my cum home with you?”

“Yes!”

When you exclaimed that desperately, he laser-focused on his target, teasing your clit aggressively fast and getting your legs to shake on either side of him. His tongue felt like a wet vibrator on your soaked cunt turned on to maximum intensity accompanied by his grunts against your skin, and once your moans started climbing higher and higher, he immediately stopped and turned you around on the freezer.

“Nuh uh, don’t you dare. Bend over,” he quickly dropped his pants and aligned his painfully hard girth against your entrance, “You’re cumming on this cock.”

You were so wet by then that he had no problem sliding right in, but your tightened walls were a bit too much to endure. He started rubbing your clit as fast as he could while ruthlessly fucking into you, hoping he could at least last until after he got you to cum.

“Minho!”

It was game over for him when you moaned his name like that, but he was somewhat able to save face when your orgasm hit right after his. You basked into the warmth of his seed spilling inside you, listening to this endlessly gorgeous man moan and quiver right behind you. Because of you. Drowned in pleasure. He rested his head on your shoulder while gathering his wits, then turned you around to give you a very wet kiss.

Also watermelon flavored.

“Some rap sheet you have,” you teased as he pulled his pants back up, “When do you take breaks?”

“Every hour or so. Why?”

Minho kinda had an inkling as to where this was going, but it still didn’t prevent his lips from getting parted when he heard it out loud.

“Third floor across the street,” you nodded towards the exit as you were walking out, “Bring a different flavor this time.”

Exxxtraoddinary? Appreciate with a pudding.

Back to Masterlist

© 2024 Feelfolio.

Translations & reposts of any kind are prohibited.