It is 2015 and Kim Taehyung had just experienced the pressures of being a K-pop idol. His group, BTS, broke through the Korean mainstream media and was enjoying commercial prosperity. But with that success came with a price. To escape the overwhelmi...
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The slow, undulating motion of steel against follicles made Jung-kook aware that he's at the mercy of the hand holding the blade. But for some reason, he trusted this stranger more than he trusted his own body.
Unashamedly, Jung-kook found himself wanting, craving the sensation of cool metal against hot skin. He also found a sense of freedom as Taehyung gingerly removed every single strand of hair that used to cover his phallus. His bird, free from affliction, was now ready to take its flight.
Taehyung marvelled at the cock before him, the round cap littered with pores glistening in the light. He ventured to touch it and his member hardened, but he knew his own would have to wait. Taehyung moved aside the stool where he sat and went down on his knees.
Jung-kook let out an audible moan as Taehyung cupped his testicles and twirled them around his thumb like a gambler rolling a pair of dice. His hand worked its way up Jung-kook's length slowly, taking his own sweet time as if he was trying to grasp a branch from a tree.
As Taehyung's hand pumped the cock up and down, heat coursed through Jung-kook's body, almost burning him. Jung-kook felt the excruciatingly deliberate movement of Taehyung's palms; his fingers alternating between short, rapid strokes and long, slow ones.
"Faster, faster," Jung-kook whimpered as white beads slowly trickled from his rod. Taehyung put his lips just below it and flicked out his tongue as more drops fell.
It tasted bittersweet, Taehyung thought, having tried a man's cum for the first time. He drank from the faucet as he gently squeezed Jung-kook's shaft.
Taehyung's eyes darkened as he noticed the cock stiffening between his fingers.
Jung-kook's head was throbbing as blood rushed to his brain. He desperately needed release but the calculated motion of the deft hand servicing him was preventing him from doing so.
"I want to fuck you," Jung-kook demanded, "so please untie me."
Taehyung looked up from his position and debated whether it was a good idea. As far as he was concerned, that was not part of his intention. But the rise and fall of Jung-kook's chest, his washboard abs, his deep collarbone, were too tempting to resist.
