Arin flicked back nothing but a lazy thumbs-up emoji.
Even if every cell in his body was screaming to ditch this prison and sprint home to whatever sinful welcome Aunt Jas had waiting, he couldn't.
Attendance was sacred currency here: stay above 60 % and the college gifted you free marks like charity. Skipping meant throwing away points he desperately needed.
He'd already missed the first period—an emergency he couldn't avoid—so the rest of the day was non-negotiable. With a defeated sigh, he dragged himself back to the classroom and slumped into his seat, waiting for the Microeconomics professor to arrive.
The class was somehow more brain-dead than History on tranquilizers. It wasn't the subject; it was the teacher—a walking mummy who spoke in monotone funeral whispers.
The only period Arin ever looked forward to was Physical Education, and that was purely because the instructor was a walking, talking MILF fantasy in tight track pants.
"Hwaaaah—" A jaw-cracking yawn tore out of him. He was one more supply-and-demand graph away from flatlining.
To stay sane, he opened the system interface.
[ DAILY QUEST — Refreshes in 14h 58m ]
Q1. Whisper an inappropriate compliment to a MILF's face.
→ Reward: 10 Skill Points | 500 EXP
Q2. Make deliberate physical contact with a MILF's ass or breasts (skin not required, intent is).
→ Reward: 10 Skill Points | 500 EXP
Q3. Reach Level 3 before midnight tonight.
→ Reward: 500 EXP
Arin read the list once, twice, then felt a slow, predatory smirk crawl across his lips—like a wolf who'd just spotted three fat sheep wandering away from the herd.
'Hehe… I guess I don't have to go to the mall today'. The thought rolled through his mind, delicious and filthy, before he snapped the interface shut and leaned back in his seat.
The rest of the day blurred into a torturous parade of lectures, forced note-taking, and lukewarm canteen food. No P.E. today, which meant no free show from Coach MILF.
At the bus stop just outside college, Arin's fingers danced across the screen, excitement buzzing in his veins.
Arin: I'm coming home, Aunt.
Sent. One grey tick. Her data was turned off.
The bus crawled through evening traffic like a dying snail. The sun bled orange across the skyline, streetlights flickering on one by one. Arin's stomach growled louder than the engine. He was starving and exhausted.
Finally the apartment gate appeared.
He barely stepped inside when he spotted her: Jenny, the married beauty he'd met at the mall yesterday. Arms loaded with shopping bags, she struggled with the weight, her soft curves jiggling with every step.
Their eyes locked for a heartbeat.
"Need a hand, ma'am?" Arin offered, voice smooth as silk.
"That would be wonderful, young man," she smiled, relieved.
He took the heaviest bag and fell into step beside her.
"Didn't you just buy groceries yesterday?" he asked lightly.
Her smile tightened. "I had to drop everything and rush to my husband's place. Long story."
Arin nodded, saying nothing. The system had already showed him everything he needed to know about her.
While they climbed the stairs side by side, her heavy, jelly-soft breasts bounced hypnotically beneath the tight cream sweater. Each soft jiggle sent a fresh surge of blood straight to his groin.
Arin jammed his left hand deep into his pocket, fingers clamping the base of his cock like a vice, desperately wrestling the growing tent back under control before it betrayed him completely.
They reached her door. As she fumbled with the keys, his stomach betrayed him with a thunderous growl.
Jenny's eyes softened. "Hungry?"
"A little," he admitted with a sheepish grin.
"Wait right here." She disappeared inside, hips swaying like a metronome of torture. A minute later she returned with a generous slice of chocolate cake on a glass plate.
"For helping me," she said warmly.
The instant their eyes locked as the plate changed hands, something electric snapped through her.
A molten wave of heat crashed over her body out of nowhere; thighs clenched hard, cheeks blooming deep pink. She pressed her legs together, confused and breathless, pussy suddenly throbbing from nothing more than the hungry, lingering way he looked at her.
"T-Thank you, ma'am," Arin smiled, accepting the plate with both hands.
"Enjoy, young man…" She shut the door a little too quickly.
Inside, Jenny leaned against it, heart racing.
'What the hell was that feeling?. Why am I wet from a college boy's stare and that bulge in his pants… was it hard the whole way up the stairs?'. She stumbled to the sink and splashed cold water on her burning face.
Arin, meanwhile, practically skipped downstairs humming, cake in hand, completely unaware (or very aware) that his Lust Gaze passive had just scored its first critical hit.
He devoured the cake in four bites, dropped the plate in his own sink, then showered off the day's grime. Minutes later he emerged fresh: olive T-shirt under a warm jacket, soft cotton pants hanging low on his hips.
He was halfway through planning a quick potato-cauliflower stir-fry when his phone buzzed.
{Aunt Jas<3}: Door's unlocked.
The knife and vegetables were forgotten in an instant. Arin crossed the shared landing, pushed her door open. It creaked like a confession.
She heard it immediately. Knife still in hand, she stepped out of the tiny kitchen, hips swaying in those sinful purple micro-shorts. The moment her eyes met his, her body betrayed her again: thighs clenched, nipples stiffened, a helpless shiver running from chest to core.
"Arin, just… sit. I'm almost done chopping," she managed, voice already trembling.
He didn't sit.
Instead he closed the distance in three silent steps, slid behind her, and cupped both heavy breasts from behind like they belonged to him. His diamond-hard cock pressed firmly between her ass cheeks through the thin fabric.
"Don't stop chopping, Aunt Jas," he whispered hot against her ear, breath tickling her earlobe. "I'm just helping you finish faster."
"Y-Yes…" The knife resumed its shaky rhythm.
Without warning he rolled both nipples between his fingers, pinching just hard enough to make her gasp.
"Ahn—!"
Heat exploded inside her. Pussy clenching, juices already soaking the inside of her thighs. No panty lines under those shorts; she really had been waiting.
"Aunt jas…". Arin's hot breath fanned the sensitive shell of her ear as he purred, low and filthy,
"…going commando in those shorts? You really are soaked and ready for my cock, aren't you?"