Ethan watched her car leave his street; he could see her watching him from the rearview mirror, smiling and waving at him.
Just one night with her, and she would be added to his list.
Ethan was smiling as he turned towards his house.
As Ethan approached the front door, something felt off.
His dad's SUV was still parked in the driveway, but there was another car beside it, a sleek black Mercedes with out-of-state plates.
California, maybe.
Ethan's brow furrowed for a second, but he shook it off.
Whatever.
He had plans brewing: Latoya Tate's juicy curves waiting for his next move, Ariana's number burning in his pocket like a promise of easy conquest. He twisted the knob and stepped inside, the warmth of the house hitting him like a wall after the cold outside.
The foyer was softly lit by the chandelier, with voices murmuring from the living room, Richard's deep baritone, laced with laughter, and two female voices, one light and teasing, the other warm but edged with concern.
Ethan paused, backpack sliding off his shoulder to the floor with a thud.
His father was there, standing way too close to a woman who definitely wasn't Vanessa. She was tall and elegant, with short-cropped brown hair and sharp features, her body lean and athletic in a fitted blouse and slacks that hugged her hips. Forties, but carrying it like she owned time itself. Richard leaned in, his hand on her lower back, whispering something that made her laugh low and throaty.
Ethan's stomach twisted, not with jealousy, but with disgust at the hypocrisy. Dad, the "caring family man," was flirting in his own house while Vanessa played whore.
Before he could process it, the other woman moved toward him from the shadows of the hallway, her steps confident and deliberate on the hardwood.
She stopped right in front of him, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off her body, her scent wrapping around him like a seductive fog—something expensive and floral, mixed with the faint musk of a woman who knew her power.
She looked him up and down slowly, her green eyes raking over him from his hooded gaze to his broad chest, lingering on the way his hoodie stretched over his pecs, down to his thick thighs in the jeans, and back up again.
It wasn't a casual glance; it was appraising, hungry, like she was sizing up a prize steer at auction.
Ethan muttered under his breath, recognition hitting him like a gut punch.
"Aunt Charlize."
Charlize Embray, his father's older sister, forty-five but looking like a young enchantress, with high cheekbones sharp as blades, full lips curved in a knowing smile, skin smooth and golden-tanned from the California sun, and eyes that pierced like emeralds. Her body was a masterpiece of mature allure and voluptuous in all the right places, with heavy breasts straining against a low-cut blouse that showed just enough cleavage to tease, a narrow waist flaring into wide hips poured into tight jeans, and an ass that jiggled slightly with every shift of her weight. The forties had been kind to her; she carried it with the confidence of a woman who'd turned heads her whole life and knew exactly how to use it.
Before he could step back, Charlize pulled him into a hug, her arms wrapping around his neck with surprising strength, yanking him close. Her breasts crushed against his chest, soft, heavy, and warm through the thin fabric of her blouse, nipples hardening slightly from the friction or the cold he'd brought in.
Ethan felt every inch of her: the heat of her body seeping through his hoodie, her curves molding to his harder frame, and that floral scent invading his lungs like a drug. Her grip was firm, hands splaying across his back, fingers digging in just enough to feel possessive.
He inhaled deep, unintentionally; her perfume mixed with the natural musk of her skin, making his head swim for a second.
[Potential Target: MILF Charlize Embray.
Corruption Potential: Extreme.
Seduction Progress: 0%.]
The system's prompt flashed in his vision, blue text glowing like a heads-up display, locking on with a soft chime only he could hear.
Ethan froze for a heartbeat.
Milf target locked on?
The system had never done that before, activating unprompted, throwing a new prey in his path like it was evolving, hunting for him now.
Charlize pulled back slightly but kept her hands on his shoulders, holding him at arm's length to look him over again.
"Damn, Ethan," she said, voice husky with surprise, those full lips curving into a grin.
"You've changed a lot since the last time I saw you. What happened to my scrawny little nephew? Look at you—built like a brick wall. Arms like tree trunks, chest all filled out. You've been living in the gym or what?"
Richard looked over momentarily from his conversation with the other woman, hearing his sister's words. His eyes narrowed, taking in Ethan's new build for the first time—broader shoulders, thicker arms, and the way he stood taller and more imposing.
A flicker of surprise crossed his face, but it vanished quickly, replaced by that familiar disappointment.
"Yeah, kid's... grown," he muttered, turning back to the woman, hand still on her back.
Ethan frowned, seeing as how Charlize wasn't fazed by Richard's behavior.
Did his father and aunt know about Vanessa's liaison? Ethan wondered for a second. It seems like he was living in a house full of degenerate people, and he had just been added to that, he thought.
Charlize held him tighter for a second, her grip strong and unyielding, fingers squeezing his biceps like she was testing the muscle.
"Seriously, what have you been doing? Spill it, nephew. Last family reunion, you were all skin and bones, hiding in your room with books.
Now? You're a man. A real one."
Ethan shrugged, keeping it casual, but the hug lingered in his mind—her breasts' softness, the heat of her body pressing in, that scent clinging to his clothes.
"Just working out. Eating right. Nothing special."
Before Charlize could press more, Vanessa appeared from the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on a dish towel, her silk robe tied loose enough to show a hint of cleavage.
She looked tired, eyes red from whatever emotional mess she'd been wallowing in, but she plastered on a smile.
"Charlize, Jennifer, good to see you both. Come inside; dinner's almost ready.
Ethan, honey, join us."
Charlize rolled her eyes subtly, a quick flash of annoyance that Vanessa caught but ignored.
The two women couldn't stand each other, hadn't since the wedding, when Charlize called Vanessa a "gold-digging trophy wife" behind closed doors. Vanessa thought Charlize was a bossy bitch who meddled too much in Richard's life.
But in front of Richard, they kept up niceties, all fake smiles and polite chit-chat, the tension simmering like a pot ready to boil over.
Jennifer Embray, Charlize's wife, the woman Richard had been talking to so closely, stepped away from him with a warm smile. Forties like Charlize, but softer: long wavy hair in auburn shades, curvy in a different way—plump hips, full breasts, a face with kind eyes and laugh lines. She'd been with Charlize for fifteen years, married for ten, a quiet artist type who balanced Charlize's fire.
Ethan pulled away from the hug, Charlize's hands lingering a second too long on his arms.
"I need to freshen up," he said, grabbing his backpack.
"Be down in a bit."
Vanessa nodded, but her voice followed him up the stairs.
"Come down quickly for dinner, Ethan. Your aunt and Jennifer drove all the way from L.A.—we're having a family meal."
He frowned as he climbed, the door shutting behind him with a click.
Family meal?
With the tension boiling under the surface, it was a recipe for drama. But his mind was on the system prompt. Why had it activated like that?
It had never done that before, unprompted, locking on Charlize like a missile seeking heat. It was giving him targets now, hand-picking MILFs for his harem, escalating the game without him asking. He sat on his bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, and pulled up the system with a thought.
The interface shimmered blue in his vision:
[MILF Hunter System.
Host: Ethan Harper.
Level: 1.
Lust Points: 0.
Harem Members: 1 (Jane Smith – Submissive Level Maxed).
Targets: Charlize Embray.]
He expanded her profile: Charlize Embray, 45. Full name glowing.
Rewards are listed like a menu of sin:
[Kiss: 100 Lust Points]
[Groping (Breasts): 300 Points]
[Groping (Ass): 300 Points]
[Oral (Received): 800 Points]
[Oral (Given): 600 Points]
[First Penetration: 5000 Points]
[Full Submission and Harem Addition: 10,000 Points + Special Unlock]
Ethan was shocked, leaning back against the headboard, eyes wide.
The points were insane, higher than Jane's, like the system rated her as premium prey, a high-value target worth the risk.
His aunt. Father's sister.
Taboo as fuck, but the system didn't care.
It wanted her broken, added to the harem, her body his to claim.
The thought sent a dark thrill through him—her breasts crushing against him in that hug, the strength in her grip, the way she'd looked him over like meat.
5000 points could buy anything: more strength, that arousal potion he'd eyed earlier, or upgrades to make him unstoppable. He closed the system, mind racing.
He had never seen his aunt in that way before, only stealing a few glances at her whenever she wore a bikini on their vacations. But the idea of having sex with her made his blood run wild, and with this new energy, he was even more excited about trying it with her.
Dinner downstairs would be interesting.
Charlize was locked on now.
The hunt had begun.