Chapter 64: RIGHT THERE

Five new points. I dumped every single one into IBE without even pretending to think about it and confirmed. The milestone window appeared immediately. Picking a reward while Sarah’s warm mouth was wrapped around my cock was almost impossible, the notifications kept trying to pull focus and my brain kept short-circuiting every time her tongue moved. I skimmed the options as fast as I could and locked in the one that made the most sense.

Payback. Gain Sin Points equal to 20% of Sexual Encounter EXP earned.

Simple. Efficient. If I’d had it earlier I would have walked away from the last round with over a hundred extra SP. Good enough.

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MAIN MENU

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NAME: Chance Brooks

LVL: 13 [447/1044]

RANK: Homewrecker

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[ CORE STATS ]

> CHA: 25

> END: 11

> PER: 30

> LCK: 4

> IBE: 31

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[ ENERGY ]

> LUST: 200/200

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[ACTIVE PERKS: Expand]

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SIN POINTS: 1520

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"Shit..."

The word came out half-groan. Sarah took it as encouragement.

She was still on her knees in front of me, water beading on her shoulders and the tops of her breasts. Her technique wasn’t polished, a little too much teeth on one pass, not enough suction on the next, but the sight of her alone made up for any lack of skill. Married. Soft. On her knees in my shower with her lips stretched around my cock while her husband sat upstairs with his friends. Every clumsy bob of her head felt filthy in the best way.

I rested a hand lightly on the back of her wet hair. Not pushing. Just holding. She responded by taking a little more of me on the next downward stroke. Still not deep, she clearly wasn’t used to this, but enough that the head of my cock pressed against the soft back of her tongue before she pulled off again with a wet sound.

A thin string of saliva connected her lower lip to the tip for a second before it broke.

She licked her lips, glanced up at me through damp lashes, and leaned back in. This time she focused on the head, swirling her tongue around it in slow, uncertain circles while her hand stroked the shaft. The contrast between the heat of her mouth and the cooler air of the bathroom made my thighs tense. I exhaled hard through my nose and let my head tip back against the tiled wall for a moment.

When I looked down again she had both hands involved, one wrapped around the base, the other resting on my hip for balance. She bobbed her head in a steady, slightly awkward rhythm, cheeks hollowing every time she sucked. The soft, wet noises filled the small bathroom. Water still dripped from the showerhead onto her back and ran down the curve of her spine.

"Fuck, Sarah..."

She made a small affirmative sound around my cock and tried to take more. Her limit showed immediately, she gagged softly and pulled back, eyes watering just a little, but she didn’t stop. She simply adjusted, kept the head and the first couple of inches in her mouth, and used her hand to work the rest with firmer strokes. The combination was messy and imperfect and somehow hotter because of it.

I watched every second of it.

The way her full breasts shifted with the motion. The way her free hand occasionally squeezed my thigh like she needed the contact. The flush that had spread across her cheeks and down her neck. She looked concentrated and a little self-conscious at the same time, like part of her still couldn’t believe she was doing this.

I threaded my fingers a little deeper into her wet hair. She took the hint and tried to go deeper again. This time she managed a bit more before the same soft gag forced her back. A string of spit ran down her chin. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, breathed once, and immediately wrapped her lips around me again.

The IBE points were doing their job. Everything felt sharper, more intense. The heat of her mouth, the slick slide of her tongue, the way her hand twisted slightly on every upstroke, it all stacked too fast. I could already feel the pressure building low in my gut, heavier than before.

Sarah seemed to sense it. She sped up a little, still not skilled but enthusiastic, the wet sounds growing louder and filthier. Her eyes stayed mostly closed now, focused on the task. Every time she pulled back to the head she gave it a few quick, almost shy licks before sinking down again. The hand on my hip had moved to cup my balls, holding them gently while she sucked.

My breathing turned rough.

"I’m close," I warned her, voice low and strained. "Sarah... I’m right there."

She pulled off immediately, a wet pop echoing in the quiet bathroom. A thick strand of saliva stretched from her bottom lip to the shiny head of my cock before it snapped. Without missing a beat she wrapped both hands around me and started stroking hard and fast, aiming the tip downward toward her chest.

I lasted maybe three more seconds.

The first thick rope shot across the upper curve of her left breast and painted a messy line over her nipple. The second and third landed higher, striping her collarbone and the soft valley between her tits. I groaned through the rest of it, hips jerking, while she kept stroking me through every pulse, milking out more until the last weaker spurts dripped onto the slope of her breast and ran downward.

When it was finally over she slowed her hand but didn’t let go completely. My cock twitched in her loose grip, oversensitive and still half-hard, a final bead of cum welling at the tip. Sarah looked down at the mess she’d made of her own chest, white ropes standing out against her wet skin, and then back up at me with an expression that was equal parts shy and satisfied.

She gave my cock one last gentle squeeze, then released it.

Neither of us spoke for a moment. The only sound was the quiet drip of water and both of us trying to catch our breath.

"Now," she said as she got up. "I think we can... get cleaned, huh?"

I was still panting. "Y-yeah... sure..."

My god... what the fuck just happened...

????????????

I woke up the next morning with the immediate, heavy realization that yesterday had actually happened.

Shit.

I had fucked Sarah. In my bed. In my shower. I had come on her face, her tits, her back. She had been on her knees for me while her husband sat one floor up with his friends. The whole thing replayed in fragments the second my eyes opened, and for a few seconds I just stared at the ceiling, heart beating too fast.

I sat up, rubbed my face, and opened the system to check the daily Endurance challenge.

"Run 5 kilometers. Complete 5 sets of 20 push-ups... fucking hell."

The requirements were getting ridiculous. Still, the longer I kept the streak going, the better the rewards would stay. No point breaking it now.

I dragged myself to the bathroom and washed my face with cold water. When I looked up, the shower stall was right there in the mirror’s reflection. The memory of her pressed against the tiles, water running down her back while I buried myself inside her, hit me all over again. I still couldn’t fully believe it had been real.

The fridge was empty, as expected. Breakfast would have to come from outside. I opened the bedroom curtains. A light dusting of snow covered the sidewalks, but the air looked milder than the day before. Manageable.

I dressed, locked up, and headed out.

The moment my feet hit a steady running pace the system interface appeared at the edge of my vision, the progress bar beginning its slow fill. I kept my breathing even and focused on the rhythm.

My phone rang... Sarah was calling. At this hour?

I slowed to a walk and the bar paused, then answered her.

"Hey. Morning."

"Hey, you. Look behind."

I turned. Sarah was leaning out of the second-floor hallway window, hair messy, wearing an oversized long sweater that hung off one shoulder. She looked like she had just woken up. It was only eight. I had no idea why I was even awake this early, after yesterday I should have slept until noon. Apparently the residual adrenaline had other plans.

I raised a hand. "Oh, hi. Just got up."

"Same. I’m cleaning the disaster Hubert’s friends left behind. They’re like animals." She exhaled. "Was about to take the trash out."

"That bad?"

"They left four porno magazines on the coffee table." Another sigh. "They’re grown men, Chance."

"And Hubert gets pissed when you draw in your sketchbook," I said. "Real consistent guy."

"Yeah... you’re right."

Favor ticked upward. Thirty-eight percent. The x6 multiplier reminder floated briefly at the edge of my vision like the system wanted to make sure I didn’t forget how valuable she had become.