Tae had just finished changing into a fresh dress when she felt the familiar creak of the door. She didn’t even need to look — she knew it was him. Mr. Jeon. Sixty years old, with rough hands, lined face, but eyes always burning with hunger for her.
“Slut…” his voice rasped from the doorway, already unbuckling his pants, “…didn’t I tell you to wait naked for me?”






















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