Arin shut the door, dragged his chair back to the study table, and shoved the dead laptop into the corner like yesterday's trash.
He pulled up his stats and stared at the glowing panel.
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[NAME: Arin Aurante
DESIRE: MILF
RANK: F [ 10/100 ]
LEVEL: 1 [ 400/1000 EXP ]
SKILL POINTS: 10
→ [Free Rare Skill Card guaranteed at Level 10]
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Arin needed to test just how far this system could take him—and he needed the perfect plan.
That thick, near-black aura wrapped around her like smoke told him everything: Mrs. Jasmine was dying for a real fuck, and he was going to be the one to give it to her.
He whipped up some mashed potatoes, scarfed them down with rice, and hit the bed early. Tomorrow morning, the real hunt began.
( 6:30AM )
Arin snapped awake, energy humming through his veins.
Black hoodie, warm track pants, sneakers. He was out the door in seconds and jogging toward the park, the same one where he'd been secretly reading his MILF novel yesterday, olive-green textbook cover pulled tight over the filthy pages, the exact spot he'd first met her.
She almost never skipped her morning walks, always muttering about "fixing" that soft, chubby body she hated.
To Arin, it was flawless—thick, plush, built for sin.
With winter creeping in during November, she'd pushed her usual 6:50 AM start later.
Arin began slow laps on the circular jogging path, the morning fog curling around his legs like smoke.
7:20 AM. Still no sign of her.
He kept moving.
Then, near the entrance gate, a familiar silhouette cut through the mist as the first rays of sunlight burned the haze away.
Finally… Mrs. Jasmine.
She was dressed in a tight white t-shirt and those same deep-purple yoga pants, the ones that made her ass look criminal.
Arin still didn't understand why every MILF in Armino City seemed contractually obligated to own the exact same outfit, but he wasn't complaining.
He finished another quick loop, slipped in beside her, and matched her stride.
At first she didn't register him—just another hooded guy in the fog.
Then her eyes widened in pleasant surprise.
"Oh! Good morning, Arin," she said, voice soft and warm like always. "I didn't know you woke up this early for walks."
"Morning, Aunty," he replied, flashing an easy smile. "Been putting on a little winter weight lately, so I figured I'd start jogging before it gets out of hand."
She laughed, the sound making his blood rush south.
Ever since the day she'd shown up at his door with a container of homemade food and he'd accidentally let "Aunty" slip out, the nickname had stuck.
And every single time he used it, her smile grew just a little sweeter.
They kept walking the circular path, side by side, breath fogging in the cold. Sweat beaded on their skin as the sun climbed higher, burning away the last of the mist.
Every now and then their eyes met—quick, shy glances that never lasted more than two seconds.
She stayed focused straight ahead, chatting lightly about the weather, the cold, how her knees ached a little these days.
Arin just nodded, smiled, let her voice wash over him like warm honey.
When the fog finally thinned and the sun broke golden across the park, she slowed near their old bench.
"Mind if we sit for a minute?" she asked, already lowering herself. "These legs aren't what they used to be."
"Okay" arin replied.
Arin dropped down right beside her—closer than necessary.
Their thighs brushed. Her body heat hit him like a drug, soft and sweet and overwhelming.
He turned toward her, voice low.
"Aunty…"
Mrs. Jasmine met his gaze, those gentle eyes locking onto his for the first time that morning.
Three seconds.
Four.
Lust Gaze triggered.
A sudden, violent wave of heat slammed through her.
Her breath hitched. Nipples stiffened against the thin white fabric. A slick ache bloomed between her thighs so fast it made her dizzy.
She tore her gaze away, but not before her eyes betrayed her, dropping helplessly to his lap.
There it was: the thick, unmistakable outline of his cock pressing hard against the front of his track pants, pulsing visibly under her stare.
A slow, burning blush crawled across her cheeks.
'He's… getting hard because of me?
A sweet boy like Arin… actually turned on by an old woman like me?
Why is my body betraying me like this? Why am I aching so badly just from the sight of his cock straining against those pants?'. The thoughts tumbled through her mind in a frantic whisper, barely audible even to herself.
She pressed her thighs together, trying to stifle the sudden, shameful pulse of arousal throbbing between her legs.
Her breath hitched; heat flooded her core.
"A-Arin… you… um…"
The words crumbled into a soft, trembling whimper.
Arin's lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.
"Cold morning, huh, Aunty?" he murmured, voice low and teasing.
His gaze drifted deliberately over her flushed face, lingering on her hardened nipples straining against the thin fabric.
"But you look…"
He let the pause hang, heavy with intent.
"…really warm right now."
His words hit her like a slap of heat.
Mrs. Jasmine's head snapped toward him, eyes wide, locking onto his once more.
The second their gazes fused, Lust Gaze poured gasoline on the fire already raging inside her.
Her breath stuttered. A fresh rush of slick arousal flooded her core, hot and undeniable, seeping slowly into the crotch of her deep-purple yoga pants.
"Uh… mmm," she managed, giving the tiniest nod, unable to tear her stare away.
"Arin… I… I think I might have a fever," she whispered, voice trembling. "All this walking… I should probably head home."
Yet she didn't move.
Her eyes stayed glued to his, pupils blown wide, lips parted.
Her thighs rubbed together in tiny, desperate motions—like a woman who hadn't been properly fucked in months and was one breath away from begging for it.
The dark fabric of her yoga pants hid the wetness from anyone else…
But not from Arin.
He could see the faint, growing stain perfectly.
He leaned in, slow and deliberate, and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead.
"It's just a little heat, Aunty," he murmured, thumb brushing her temple. "Nothing serious."
Then, voice dropping to a low, filthy whisper only she could hear. "Or… is it something else making you this hot, Aunty…?"
Her whole body jolted at the blunt words, a soft, broken moan slipping free before she could stop it.