Arin's palm settled on her bare thigh, warm, possessive, and slid upward with deliberate slowness.
The contact hit her like a lightning strike. Her whole body jerked, breath catching in a sharp gasp.
"A-Arin… what are you doing? Stop…"
The protest left her lips weak, trembling, her eyes wide with nervous shame. But her thighs didn't close. They parted, just a fraction.
Arin ignored the words.
His right arm draped across her shoulders, pulling her closer until his lips brushed the shell of her ear.
"Look me in the eyes and say it, Aunty," he whispered, voice velvet and filthy. "Tell me you really want me to stop."
She tried.
She opened her mouth, looked down at the ground… then lifted her gaze to meet his.
The second their eyes locked again, Lust Gaze poured fire straight into her veins.
"Sto—"
The word died.
Her hips rolled forward on their own, chasing his hand.
"Please… it's turning me on," she whimpered, the confession spilling out before shame could catch it.
Arin's smirk widened.
"So… do you want me to stop, Aunty? Or should I keep going?"
His fingers crept higher, brushing the soaked center of her deep-purple yoga pants. The fabric was drenched, clinging to her folds like a second skin.
'Ahh… what is this feeling?
It's been so long since anyone touched me… My body's screaming for it. If he doesn't stop, I'm going to let this boy fuck me right here… I have to stop him…'
Before the thought finished, Arin's hand slipped beneath the waistband.
Two fingers slid past the lace edge of her panties and found slick, molten heat.
"Anh~<3"
A low, broken moan slipped out, meant only for his ears.
Arin chuckled, dark and delighted.
"Aunty… did you just moan for me?"
"N-no, it's—ahh!"
Her denial shattered as he pressed harder, rubbing slow circles over her swollen clit through the soaked cotton.
"Can you… rub harder?"
The plea tumbled out before she could stop it. Her eyes flew wide in horror, cheeks flaming, but her hips were already grinding against his palm.
Arin didn't need to be told twice.
He stroked her faster, fingers gliding through her juices until the fabric was useless, until his hand glistened.
"You look so cute when you're desperate, Aunty," he murmured.
A shy, dazed smile flickered across her lips. Her mind was going blank, pleasure erasing every thought of resistance.
Then, without warning, Arin hooked his fingers under the side of her panties and plunged straight inside her dripping pussy.
Two fingers, deep and sudden.
"Annhh—<3"
Her back arched, head tilting to the sky as she bit her lip bloody to silence the scream.
Her walls clenched greedily around the intrusion, years of neglect crumbling in seconds.
Arin curled his fingers, stroking that perfect spot inside her, thumb rolling her clit in tight, merciless circles.
"Look at me, Aunty," he commanded, voice low and filthy. "Tell me how good it feels."
Her glassy eyes met his again.
Lust Gaze swallowed the last of her willpower.
"N-no… please… harder… don't stop…anh~"
The words spilled out in breathless sobs, hips bucking shamelessly against his hand.
Arin's grin turned predatory. "Good girl".
He stopped teasing.
He thrust deeper, faster, fingers slamming into her g-spot while his thumb crushed her clit.
Her legs shook violently.
A silent scream tore from her throat as the orgasm crashed over her, pussy spasming around his fingers, soaking his hand and the bench beneath them.
When the waves finally ebbed, Mrs. Jasmine slumped against his shoulder, panting, trembling, utterly ruined.
Arin slowly drew his glistening fingers from her panties, brought them to his lips, and licked them clean, eyes locked on hers the entire time.
Mrs. Jasmine watched, dazed, too shattered to even blush.
"Aunty… let's go home," he said softly, a gentle, victorious smile curving his mouth.
She lifted her head, cheeks flushed, gaze heavy with fresh hunger.
"Yes… we should," she whispered, voice thick with need.
He helped her stand.
She was a soft, curvy 5'8" woman; he towered over her at 6'1". Her legs still trembled violently from the orgasm, so he slipped an arm around her shoulders and let her lean her full weight against him as they walked.
Halfway to the gate he noticed a family strolling in from the park entrance.
The sun was higher now, burning off the last of the morning chill.
If those people had arrived just one minute earlier, he would've bent her over that bench and fucked her raw in broad daylight.
A few minutes later they reached the apartment building.
He supported her the entire way, her body pressed tight to his side, her breath still coming in little pants against his neck.
She fumbled the key into the lock, pushed the door open, and collapsed onto her bed with a sigh.
The room smelled of fresh roses. Rose-colored sheets, rose-patterned pillows: everything about the space screamed soft, feminine, mature.
Perfect for the woman he was about to ruin completely.
Arin knelt, gently tugged off her running shoes and purple socks, then let his gaze drift upward. The soaked fabric of her deep-purple yoga pants clung to her pussy like it had been painted on, every fold outlined, the wet patch dark and obvious.
His cock throbbed, rising hard and insistent against his track pants.
Mrs. Jasmine noticed. Her eyes softened with guilt and lingering heat.
"Arin… why are you doing this to an old woman like me?" she murmured, voice small. "I'm practically your mother's age…"
Arin's expression shifted, suddenly vulnerable.
He sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at his hands.
"My stepmother… she never loved me. She bullied me, ignored me, made sure I knew I was nothing. Because of her I ended up alone in this city, scraping by."
He swallowed hard. "My real mom was different. Soft, warm… she cooked for me, held me. But I lost her to cancer when I was five. After that, my father married that woman, and everything went to hell."
Mrs. Jasmine's heart cracked open.
She sat up, wrapped both soft arms around his shoulders from behind, and pulled him close.
"Arin… a bad beginning doesn't decide who you become," she whispered gently against his ear. "It's the rest of your story that matters."
The story was pure fiction, of course.
A perfect lure for a lonely sheep.
Arin turned his head, gave her a fragile half-smile.
She looked back with genuine pity… and then her pupils dilated again.
Heat surged through her body like wildfire, nipples stiffening against her damp shirt, thighs pressing together on instinct.
The wolf had her exactly where he wanted her.
He leaned in until their lips almost touched. "Then let's write a better chapter, Aunty," he breathed.