Age of Lust: Starting with Milfs-Chapter 48: Rising Stepmother

My hands roamed freely all over their bodies.

I slapped asses until they glowed red, groped swinging tits, pulled hair to make them arch like bows.

The chamber thrummed with slapping skin, wet schlicks, and their chorus of ecstasy.

Pressure built in my balls, cock swelling impossibly thicker as I blurred my cock between four different hole, each hole unique in its welcome: hairy and plush, smooth and vice-like, creamy and loose, fresh and gripping.

I couldn’t hold back, enjoying their welcome time and again.

With a guttural roar, I ripped out of Sasha one final time, her pussy fluttering in protest.

Gripping my pulsing shaft, I aimed at their upthrust asses and erupted.

The first thick rope splattered across Mia’s full cheeks, white streaks painting her bushy crack, dripping down temptingly.

Next to Lila, arcing hot onto her smooth globes, sliding toward her slit.

Tara caught the following burst, cum landing in heavy globs on her curves, mingling with leaks from below. Sasha’s marked ass received the last jets, glazing the red handprints in creamy white.

They shuddered in bliss, asses twitching as my seed cooled, some trickling into their holes.

"So much... You came so much over my ass," Mia purred, reaching back to smear it like lotion.

"Taste as good as I remember," Lila dipped fingers into the mess, tasting with a hum.

"Feels good," Tara wiggled, letting it drip lower, while Sasha sighed contentedly, marked as min

I stood over them, chest heaving, cock softening, face sporting a triumphant smile.

****

A lot of notifications popped up when I was creampying them left and right?

The end result: I have gained the rights to purchase their skills using Bliss Points. I have also gained Bliss Points in the thousands.

"Lila, do you mind If I take the Minatour’s corpse for myself?" I slapped her ass as I spoke.

"I don’t mind," Lila shook her head. "You are the one who killed it. You deserve to keep it," she added.

"You are so sensible." I patted her head lovingly.

A sweet smile blossomed on her face as she rubbed her face against my hand like a cat. "It’s good that you see me this way."

After stuffing its core in my inventory, I left the Monster Abyss.

My steps carried me homeward.

It was located in the Eternal City, and Eternal City wasn’t far away from the place I teleported to by exiting the Monster Abyss.

The familiar silhouette of the family manor rising against the starry sky soon entered my eyes.

"Damn, its big."

These were my exact thoughts when I saw it for the first time.

The grand estate had towering spires and ivy-cloaked walls.

I pushed open the wrought-iron gates with a creak that shattered the night’s quiet, stepping into the courtyard bathed in the soft glow of lantern that hoovered on each side of the footpath at equal intervals.

It was quite a marvelous sight

The air here was scented with blooming jasmine and the faint earthiness of the gardens, a stark contrast to the Abyss’s musty depths.

And there she was, waiting in the courtyard so late at night, a vision that stopped me dead in my tracks. A woman who could easily be called the epitome of mature beauty, stood like a goddess not too far away.

She was a woman in her early forties, yet her body screamed of timeless allure, a slutty perfection sculpted by the gods themselves to tempt and torment any man who dared look.

Her figure was an hourglass of sinful proportions—wide, childbearing hips that swayed with hypnotic grace, flaring out from a narrow waist that begged to be gripped during fevered thrusts.

Those hips supported thighs thick and plush, the kind that could crush a man’s head in ecstasy or wrap around his waist to pull him deeper into her core.

Her ass was a masterpiece, full and rounded, protruding like two ripe melons straining against the fabric that barely contained them, each cheek jiggling subtly with her agitated breaths, promising a bounce that would drive any cock wild.

Up top, her breasts were nothing short of legendary—massive, pendulous orbs that defied gravity despite their heft, easily the size of ripe watermelons, swelling against her clothing with such insistence that they seemed ready to burst free at any moment. They heaved with her emotions, nipples already poking through the thin material like diamond-hard peaks, dark and inviting, hinting at the sensitive, milk-heavy swells beneath.

Her skin was flawless porcelain, glowing under the moonlight, stretched taut over curves that spoke of endless nights of passion. A soft belly, just plush enough to cushion a pounding rhythm, led down to the V of her mound, where I could imagine a lush patch of dark curls guarding her most intimate treasure—a pussy that, even from afar, exuded the promise of wet, welcoming heat, folds plump and eager to clench around invading fingers or a thick shaft.

Her face was the crowning glory: high cheekbones framing full, pouty lips painted a natural crimson, always slightly parted as if whispering invitations to sin. Almond-shaped eyes, deep brown and smoldering, lined with long lashes that fluttered like butterfly wings. Raven hair cascaded in loose waves down her back, reaching past her ass, framing features that blended maternal warmth with raw, slutty seduction. She moved with a natural sway, her body language screaming availability—shoulders back to thrust those tits forward, hips cocked to accentuate her ass’s curve. Even her arms were toned yet soft, ending in delicate hands with manicured nails perfect for raking down a lover’s back.

She was dressed in a sheer silk nightgown, the kind any reader would recognize as the flimsy attire of a restless housewife in the dead of night—translucent white fabric that clung to her sweat-dampened skin like a second layer, the hem brushing mid-thigh and riding up to tease glimpses of her inner thighs. The neckline plunged scandalously low, a deep V that exposed the inner swells of her enormous breasts, the material so thin it outlined every curve, her dark areolas faintly visible through the silk.

No bra restrained those heavy globes; they jiggled freely with each step, nipples tenting the fabric obscenely. A matching robe hung open over it, tied loosely at the waist with a satin belt, the sleeves billowing but doing nothing to hide her slutty form. Barefoot, her painted toes curled against the cool stone, adding to the vulnerable, seductive vulnerability of her late-night vigil.

She was so beautiful that even though I’d just had a great time not too long ago—plunging into those four willing sluts in the Abyss, their asses and pussies milking me dry—if it was with her, I wouldn’t hesitate to have sex again. My cock stirred traitorously in my pants, the memory of my recent releases paling against the taboo fire she ignited.

I recognized her instantly as the stepmother of the original owner of my body who was now dead like his father. When I had taken over his body and accepted his memories, I have vowed to treat his family right, and I was intending to keep that vow

I licked my lips, thinking of my future here

After that, a thought crossed my mind.

What was she doing waiting in the courtyard so late at night?

The clock tower chimed midnight as I wondered, her presence both a comfort and a spark to forbidden thoughts.

Before I could speak, she stormed up to me, her bare feet slapping the stone, those massive tits bouncing wildly under the nightgown. Her eyes, usually so composed, blazed with a mix of fury and relief. Without warning, her hand cracked across my face—a sharp slap that stung like fire, echoing in the empty courtyard. Tears spilled from her eyes, trailing down her flushed cheeks, glistening like diamonds on her perfect skin.

"Do you know how worried I was about you?" she cried, her voice breaking, thick with emotion. "You went to the Monster Abyss without notifying me! What filial son does that? Do you even consider me your family?"

The slap burned, but seeing her tears I decided to reign in my anger, deciding to rizz her up and pounds her pussy to let it out instead of returning the favour.

I dropped to one knee instinctively, taking her hand in mine, her skin soft and warm against my thick palm.

"I’m so sorry, Arala," I said, my voice low and sincere, pressing my lips to the back of her hand in a gentle kiss. "I won’t do it again. I promise. Did it hurt? Your hand, I mean—did slapping me hurt you?"

She shook her head, more tears welling as she looked down at me, her free hand trembling at her side. "Silly Raj," she whispered, her voice softening, a hint of a smile breaking through the worry. "You should be getting angry at me for slapping you."

I rose slowly, still holding her hand, my gaze locking onto hers. Against the pain in my cheek, all I felt was a swell of affection—and that undercurrent of desire her nearness stirred in me. "Against you, I can’t feel anger," I replied, my tone earnest, thumb stroking her knuckles. "You are so lovely, Arala. How could I ever be mad at you?"