Arin's lips curved into a satisfied smile as the translucent panel materialized before his eyes.
[ Q1. One compliment per unique MILF in a day (7/7) COMPLETED ]
[ +10 Skill Points | +750 EXP ]
[ Total Skill Points: 60 ]
The notification faded just as quickly as it appeared. He dismissed it with a thought and turned his attention back to jasmine walking beside him.
They had been wandering the mall for hours, drifting from the bustling first floor up to the quieter second, where the kitchenware section bled into brightly colored racks of children's clothing. Arin never missed an opportunity.
"Aunty…" he began, voice low and smooth, "you should definitely buy this maid apron. You'd look absolutely breathtaking in it."
Jasmine's steps faltered. A rush of heat flooded her cheeks, then lower, far lower. Her breath hitched.
"Y-you really think so…?" she whispered, thighs pressing together beneath her tight purple leggings.
Arin only smiled wider. He circled behind her like a predator playing with prey, plucked a fluffy black cat-ear headband from a nearby display, and gently set it atop her silky hair.
"Now you'd look downright sinful," he murmured near her ear.
A soft, embarrassed moan slipped from Jasmine's lips. Hidden behind him, her trembling fingers slid beneath the waistband of her leggings, rubbing frantically at the slick heat pooling between her legs.
Her breathing came in shallow, needy gasps.
"A-Arin…" she breathed, voice thick with lust, "let's go home. Right now."
He glanced down. A dark, telling stain had already spread across the crotch of her purple leggings. Arin nodded once.
They paid quickly. Jasmine's hands shook as she handed over her card. Bags in hand, they stepped out into the evening air—only for her to suddenly remember something.
She pressed her shopping bags into Arin's arms and hurried toward the pharmacy on the right wing of the mall.
Arin waited patiently on a bench outside. Minutes later she returned, cheeks flaming, clutching a small opaque plastic bag.
"Thanks for waiting, let's go…," she said warmly.
"What'd you get, Aunt?"
Her blush deepened to near crimson. "It's… um… birth control pills."
Arin kept his expression perfectly neutral. "Makes sense."
Eleven minutes of walking. Arin carrying every bag without complaint—and they reached the den's apartment complex. Neither noticed the sharp gaze tracking them from the fourth-floor balcony of 4-A.
Jenny squinted, first dismissing the woman clinging to the young man as his mother. But something felt off. Residents here were strictly single-occupancy; bringing outsiders in was against the rules. And the way that woman leaned into him, the way her hand rested possessively on his arm… Jenny's eyes narrowed. She watched until the pair disappeared through the main entrance.
Every unit in the building was identical: modest living room, compact kitchen, single bathroom, and a narrow balcony. Perfect for one person. Nothing more.
On the landing, Arin started to speak. "I'll get changed real quick and—"
Jasmine didn't let him finish. She grabbed his wrist and yanked him inside her apartment in one fluid motion, kicking the door shut behind them. The lock clicked with finality.
One of the shopping bags slipped from Arin's fingers and rolled silently beneath the bed.
She tossed the groceries into the fridge without ceremony, then turned to him, eyes glazed with hunger. Arin stripped down to nothing but his straining boxer briefs, the obscene bulge of his cock impossible to hide.
Jasmine slipped into the brand-new maid apron, the frilly white lace barely containing her heavy breasts. Arin stepped forward, slid the cat-ear headband back into place, and took a moment to drink her in.
The apron's neckline dipped low; her tits looked one sharp breath away from spilling out completely. Her hips flared wide, thighs thick and trembling. The perfect picture of a needy MILF maid.
"Aunty," he said, voice husky, "even the goddess of beauty herself couldn't hold a candle to you right now."
The compliment struck her like lightning. A visible shudder ran through her body; fresh slick dripped down her inner thighs. She bit her lip hard enough to leave marks.
But before Arin could push her down and make her beg properly, Jasmine forced herself to move. She hurried to the kitchen, thighs rubbing audibly, and returned with two tall glasses of orange juice.
She downed hers in desperate gulps, then offered the second to him.
Arin accepted the glass with a grateful smile. "Thanks, Aunt… I was really thirsty too."
Another compliment—soft, casual, lethal.
The words crashed over her like a tidal wave. She coughed, doubling forward slightly as her pussy clenched hard enough to make her knees buckle.
Arin set his empty glass on the table beside hers.
"You okay?"
"Y-yeah… it's nothing," she lied, voice trembling.
She never got the chance to say more.
In one smooth movement Arin seized her waist, spun her, and threw her onto the bed. The maid apron flared around her like dark petals. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her soaked leggings and dragged them down in a single, practiced pull.
The fabric peeled away from her skin with a wet sound. Her bare pussy glistened in the low light—swollen, dripping, utterly ready.
Arin's eyes darkened.
'Time to take care of my favorite maid', he whispered.
Arin dropped to his knees between her spread thighs and buried his face in her dripping pussy. His tongue (long, wicked, serpentine) plunged deep, lapping greedily at every slick fold, tracing every sensitive wall as if memorizing her taste.
"Anh—!"
A broken moan tore from Jasmine's throat, her back arching off the mattress.
'Ah… here we go again', she thought, fingers clawing at the sheets. 'I swore to myself—just twice, no more than that. But fuck my promises… I just want this. Want him. His cock is a thousand times better than that useless piece of shit ex-husband ever was'.
"Arin—deeper… please, go deeper," she whimpered, voice quivering with raw need.
He obeyed instantly. His tongue twisted and swirled like a tornado, flicking mercilessly against her most sensitive spots.
*lick-lick-lick-lick*
The wet sounds filled the small apartment, obscene and intoxicating.
Finally, Arin pulled back, his lips glistening with her juices. He crawled up her body and crushed his mouth against hers in a fierce, hungry kiss, tongues tangling as he fed her the taste of her own arousal. His hands found hers, fingers interlacing, pinning them gently but firmly above her head.
slurp… chuuu…
For a moment it was perfect—just another glorious day of claiming a needy MILF.
Then heat bloomed beneath his skin, sudden and unnatural. His blood turned to molten lava in his veins.
Chuu…
Jasmine broke the kiss first, breathless. "What's wrong, Arin…?"
A violent wave of dizziness slammed into him. The room tilted. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
"Aunt… I feel strange," he rasped, sweat beading on his forehead. "Something's… wrong. Really wrong."
She only smiled (slow, wicked, triumphant). A soft, throaty giggle escaped her lips.
"Hehehe…"
The sound sent ice through his burning body.
"Aunt… why are you laughing?" he managed, voice cracking.
Her gaze flicked to the right, sharp and deliberate. Arin's eyes followed the silent cue. On the bedside table sat the two empty glasses.
The realization hit like a freight train.
"Aunty…" His throat went dry despite the fever consuming him. "What did you put in my glass?"
Panic clawed up his spine as her smile widened, cat-like and dangerous.