Do You Want To Play?
The Byeontae Game
Their eyes widened, and their lips lifted into smirks. The Pervert Game. Those magic words worked wonders. Never once did any of the guys stop there. Everyone wanted to know. “What is that game?” they all asked, “How do you play it?” And in the underlying, unspoken words, they wondered what they’d get for winning it.
Men were men. My first test had proven true.
And the second was that age didn’t matter. This felt good. A finger to the dick boy who said Ajummas sucked. My naughty plan to corrupt Korean men’s minds was on fire. The success rate was 95%, of which only one out of fifty guys said no. He was happy not playing the game when he learned the rules. I took it as him being careful. True, the internet was flooded with scammers.
The Byeontae Game was a litmus test. A telling sign for the type of men I wanted to meet and hoped to gather the information I sought, and the ultimate goal, if vibe permitted, fuck our brains out.
Excuses were aplenty. Whatever the reason, the journey was a sexy thrill I couldn’t get enough of.
The plot began a month before.
I stumble upon many Youtubers chatting and recording their convos with strangers they met on Ometv and Omegle. Two online random chat apps that matched you with strangers in your chosen countries provided language translation message boxes for those who don’t speak the language.
The Korean strangers chatting with these Youtubers, who often pretended they couldn’t speak Korean, were so intriguing that I kept returning for more. They were the real version of K guys I saw in my drama, and like many women brought in by the K-wave, I wanted to know more about this hot new species.
The everyday Korean guy.
I was on overdrive, wanting to meet such people and wondering if that was possible. And so the pre-game was hatched. I wrote my cheatsheets. The what-ifs and questions I wanted to ask were translated and sounded out so I could read off the papers and communicate.
Old school, yes. I should have pulled out a translation app, yes. In all my exuberance, I wasn’t thinking straight. After many tries and setting up my fake accounts and VPN, I was ready and set to fire. And after the first shot down, it took days to climb back up.
And then one day, I logged in. A new guy’s face popped up. I stared into his bedroom and then back at him.
“Annyeonghaseyo” (안녕하세요) he said. “Eodiseo osyeossnayo” (어디서 오셨나요)
I jumped and slammed down my laptop. My heart was racing at two hundred miles an hour. It took several more tries. Each time before clicking START, I took deep breaths for forty minutes and tried and freaked out again, and slowly that dropped to thirty minutes, then again, twenty, ten, and then five minutes.
I wasn’t usually an Introvert, but this strange communication method was past my playing field. Breaking out of my bubble was harder than I thought. Still, I was relentless and forcing myself to small talk and break the silence, extending the cross-country conversations with the longest I’d spoken to at ten minutes.
And then, one night, with my cheat sheets in hand, I finally braced myself to ask my first Korean guy to play the Byeontae game. I picked an easy target — one with a chest, no face, no legs, and a high chance of a naked ass and dick in hand.
He wasn’t my kind of fish because I wanted a face and a friend. But, he was easy to catch and a first good try.
“Annyeong,” I said, and he waved and pointed down. I giggled. “What are you doing?”
The text box blinked, translating his Korean to mine. “Show me your boobs.”
I was surprised at how bold he was. Most of the Koreans I spoke to beat around, and we never got past asking my question before we ended.
“Play the Byeontae Ajumma game with me,” I said.
“Byeontae Ajumma?” He spoke aloud in surprise. “Pervert?”
“Yes!” I giggled, “Ten…” My voice shook. The hook was in, and I was reeling. “Ten questions!” I showed him both hands, fingers extended. “You five…” I dropped one hand and pointed at him with the other.
He didn’t have a face, but a thumbs up meant he understood. I jabbed my finger on my zipped hoodie. Underneath was my secret weapon and final test.
“I five.” I paused, letting the air in, and extending that pause, “If I like your questions and answers, I will show you my boobs.”
There was a moment of silence.
I could almost hear his brain clicking and the moment his dick overruled. I could have picked a better candidate, but his not speaking made me braver.
And then he raised his thumb.
I grinned. I couldn’t help myself. It would be my first live dick, and I was beyond excited.
The text messages appeared again, “I can’t speak English. Can I type?”
“Yes…but I hope they don’t censor…” I bit my lip. I was kicked out twice before this for who-knew-what-reason. It was almost like the app knew I was up to no good. A pre-emptive measure to make me quit when I still could — that slippery slope. Once I got on, I knew there was no climbing back. After creating several accounts, emails, and whatnot, I was back in vid chatting.
I nodded hard, “Never mind. It’s okay. I’ll start first…what is your favorite sex position?”
I could see the words coming—the typing and then stopping.
“At the back. Hitting the ass,” he replied.
“Doggy sex!” I bounced on the bed. “My favorite!” I giggled.
At that moment, My heart was light. He was a friendly pervert as I watched his thumb go up. I didn’t ask where the other hand was. There wasn’t a point in stating the obvious. “Your turn!”
“What size are your breasts?” he asked.
I giggled and jiggled my boobs hidden under my hoodie. “Size D.”
“When is your first time?” I smiled. “Seventeen. Namja chingu. (남자 친구).” Most people’s first were their boyfriends or girlfriends. Stats were in the range of seventeen to early twenties.
The cursor started again. “Fifteen years old.”
My jaw dropped.
“With the female teacher in the science lab room.” The words appeared.
“Oh my god…” My jaw dropped. “OMG!” I typed shouted. “Tell me more! Tell me more! Who started it first?”
He laughed. We both laughed. We connected right there.
This was what I wanted. Sex broke language barriers. It brought strangers closer. We were like pals. No rules, no judgment.
“She did. I did.” The message said. “She pulled me into the lab, pushed me into a chair, and sat on me. She wore a white shirt, grey skirt, and no panties.”
“Damn! That was so hot! Like a hentai manga!” I laughed and giggled. Forget the cheatsheet. The translations worked. This was gold.
“Show me your boobs.” He asked again. “I want to cum.”
“Show me your cock,” I smiled. He made me brave. This was the first time for everything.
I heard him laugh, and his camera panned down. His cock was skin-tight, pink, and stiff. I watched, mesmerized by his hand moving up and down his shaft.
“I want to see your boobs,” he spoke this time.
I could go on and insist on the five questions each, but what he gave was worth more than that. Slowly, I unzipped. The thrill of him watching sent shockwaves from my fingertips to my shoulders and down my back.
“I’ve never done this before…” I said as I watched his hand move faster as he jerked his cock.
“Take off your shirt,” I said.
I watched him pull his white shirt off and stare at his chest. He wasn’t super muscled, but I liked it: pale, smooth skin and squared shoulders.
I stared down at my half-unzipped hoodie, revealing the curves of my large breasts. I zipped it off in a flash and pushed back the sides, squeezing my breasts.
He inhaled loudly.
“I want your pussy,” he said.
“No,” I said, zipping up.
“No…” He moaned. “Open. Keep open.”
“I showed you…” I stared at his chest, realizing I still didn’t know what he looked like. “I think we’re done…”
“No! Wait…” He waved at me and started typing. “I’ll answer more questions,” he messaged.
And just as I was about to answer him, the screen skipped. My horny guy was gone, replaced with another face, and before I could react, the site shut down.
I was kicked out — banned, and I didn’t get his contact. That fifteen-year-old virgin with his teacher.
Later that day…
“Why are you so happy?” My hairdresser asked.
“Am I?” I smiled into the mirror.
“Yes, you’re smiling a lot today. When you come and see me, you are usually tired.”
She was right.
Why? I saw my first stranger dick, and I loved it.