woosan

Everyone wanted Wooyoung.

Girls, boys, professors-- everyone.

I mean, who wouldn't like themselves a young twenty-two year old blonde baby boy dressed in pink riffle blouses and skirts with matching platform heels? It's a fantasy.

A fantasy only one could ever achieve, only one who could actually reach out to him, to talk, to undress, to take-- you get me.

It was Choi San. A thirty-five year old professor with black hair always slicked to perfection, not a single gray hair in view and body built like he was ten years younger.

Yeah, that Choi San.

He was the one who always went back home to Wooyoung waiting on his black silk sheets, propped like his Barbie.