She said nothing, only kept chopping, the rhythmic filling the tiny kitchen like a metronome counting down to sin.
*chop-chop-chop*
Arin's lips brushed the shell of her ear.
"You know, Aunt… these tits are so fucking huge I can't even find the words. Let me just show you how much I appreciate this body."
His hands slid under her sweater and yanked it halfway up. Two perfect, heavy breasts spilled free with a soft skin, nipples already diamond-hard.
*boing-boing*
"Just look at them… so fluffy, so damn cute," he growled, squeezing hard enough to make the pale flesh bulge between his fingers.
"Mmph—!" A muffled moan vibrated in her throat.
A translucent blue window popped in the corner of his vision.
[Q1. Whisper an inappropriate compliment to a MILF's face → COMPLETED]
[ +10 Skill Points | +500 EXP ]
'Heh… called it. These quests were practically gift-wrapped for Aunt Jas', he murmured, a smug little smirk tugging at his lips.
Arin flicked open her updated status with a lazy swipe.
————
[Name: Jasmine Harlow
Age: 31
Desire: Sex-Craving (Critical)
Situation: Divorced, Employed, Currently residing in Den's Apartment Complex, Unit 3-C]
————
Vegetables done. She set the knife down with shaky hands and turned to put the bowl aside.
Arin was already moving. He darted to the front door, twisted the deadbolt.
*Click*
Then, eyes blazing, he snatched the frilly apron hanging beside the fridge.
"Put this on". A flicker of hesitation, then she nodded, cheeks burning. "O-okay… if you want, Arin."
He stopped her halfway. "Not so fast, Aunt."
In one smooth motion he peeled the sweater over her head and dragged those sinful purple shorts down her thighs. She didn't resist; she was too far gone, pussy already glistening, thighs trembling with need.
He tied the apron around her naked body himself. The tiny square of fabric barely covered her nipples; the rest of her curves stayed gloriously exposed.
'Now THAT is what I call a fucking MILF'.
"You look so fucking cute like this, Aunt… I can't even—". Arin didn't bother trying. He just showed her.
In one fluid motion he spun her, slammed her back against the counter, and pinned her there. His left forearm crushed those heavy apron-clad tits together while his right hand speared between her thighs, two fingers plunging knuckle-deep into dripping heat.
"Look at me," he growled, curling hard inside her. "Tell me right now. Is this what you want?"
"Y-ye— ANHH—!". Her walls fluttered helplessly around his fingers.
'This pleasure again… my body's moving on its own… I swore only once, then only twice… fine, just this time and never again', she lied to herself, voice trembling in her mind.
A few blistering minutes of relentless thrusting later, Arin slid his soaked fingers free and lifted them to her face. Crystal strands of her arousal stretched between his digits like glistening, obscene silk.
"See that, Aunt? I'm starving… both my stomach and my cock." He flashed a devilish grin.
"Turn on the stove. Let the food cook itself. I'm taking you from behind."
"O-okay…" The word slipped out in a needy whimper.
He kicked off his pants, flung them toward the bed, cock throbbing angrily in the open air. She bent to grab the pan, and the sight nearly ended him right there: perfect peach ass framed by the tiny apron strings, pussy lips glistening, juices trailing down her thighs like an invitation carved in neon.
"Oh my fucking—"
One savage thrust and he buried every inch to the root.
"ANHHH—!"
Her scream echoed off the tiles as he slammed past every barrier, kissing the mouth of her womb in a single brutal stroke no man had ever reached before him.
"Annh—anh—mmhh—!"
She didn't even try to hold back. Each lightning-fast thrust sent a thousand volts crackling through her skull, pleasure overloading every circuit.
*Plap-plap-plap-plap!*
Somehow she remembered to dump the chopped vegetables and spices into the boiling pan, arms braced on the marble counter, tongue lolling, eyes half-lidded in soft, blissful ahegao while he wrecked her from behind.
"Deeper, A-Arin… please go even deeper…" she begged, voice shattering with every thrust.
"As you wish, Aunt."
He hooked both arms under her thighs and lifted, folding her like a doll. The new angle let him hammer straight into her cervix.
*PLAP!*
"ANHHH—!"
'How is he hitting my womb… I'm addicted… my body's in love with this cock… mind going blank… I'm—'
"A-Arin… I'm cumming—!". Her walls clamped down like a velvet vice, orgasm ripping through her in violent, squirting waves.
"ANNNHHHH—!"
Legs trembling helplessly in his grip, juices splashing onto the floor.
Arin never slowed.
"Huh… not again," he chuckled darkly, pounding straight through her climax.
She could only laugh, breathless, shameless, utterly ruined.
"Hehe…"
She twisted her upper body, craning back over her shoulder, and their mouths crashed together in a sloppy, desperate French kiss.
*Mmmchu-mmmchu*
*Jyupu-rero-nchuuu*
Saliva bridged between their tongues as she sucked on him like she was starving.
"Haa… fuck, Aunt… I'm at my limit," Arin panted against her lips, voice ragged.
She nipped his earlobe and whispered, hot and filthy, "Then don't hold back, arin… cum inside me."
"Aunt… I'm… cumming—!"
*Splurt—! Spluuurt—! Gopu— gopu— gopuuuu*
Thick, scalding ropes flooded her depths. Her walls spasmed greedily, milking every drop.
"Anhh—!" She clenched her jaw, swallowing her scream after scream, riding the pleasure until her vision blurred.
Arin finally let go. Her trembling legs dropped; she sagged against the counter, panting, his cum already leaking in heavy strands from her swollen pussy, splattering onto the kitchen tiles.
He gave her ass one last possessive slap.
*SMACK*
That made her clench involuntarily, forcing another thick dribble out and smirked.
Pants retrieved, phone already in hand, he crouched beside her collapsed, blissed-out form.
"Smile for me, Aunt."
Still on the floor, legs spread and apron askew, she flashed a shaky V-sign beside her eye, tongue out in full, shameless ahegao.
*Kacha—*
Arin disappeared into the bathroom, cleaned up, and pulled his pants back on. By the time he stepped out, she was fully dressed again, stirring the pan like nothing had happened, except for the faint, satisfied glow on her cheeks.
The air was thick with the mouth-watering aroma of meat and vegetables. She'd quietly slipped in the homemade meatballs. Rolled and chilled this afternoon, just for tonight's dinner.
"Sweetheart, dinner's almost ready… just one more minute," she called, voice soft and warm as melted butter.
"Take your time, Aunt Jas," he answered, already perched on the edge of her bed, grinning like the cat that got the cream.