Mrs. Olivarez lay on the massage table with a smile.
That was another quality of the older woman he admired—she embraced everything new, unlike most, who resisted deviating from their routines.
As he approached her, she peeked at him from her left eye. "Oh," she sighed. "I'm so tired."
"No problem, madam," he said, well aware she was playing along. Rubbing his palms together and blowing into them to warm them. "I'll make you feel better."
Anxious in anticipation, Marke set a palm on her left arm, clueless as to what to do since all he had seen were videos. Suddenly, memories and muscle memory of massaging people inundated his mind, prompting him to apply a subtle pressure with his index finger and run it up her forearm.
Mrs. Olivarez closed her eyes with a smile.
Woah. Marke thought. What was that?
His body had moved on its own.
"How does that feel?" He asked tentatively.
"You took a class?" She asked, sighing as he continued the massage. "Not bad."
"You're not just saying it, right?" He asked. "I'm serious." The older woman was kind, and that kindness translated into lies sometimes.
"I'm not," she replied, quivering. "Tickles and feels good."
Now, that bolstered Marke's confidence.
I'm not crazy. The thought filled him with relief. Just blessed by something, or someone.
Marke moved his fingers more firmly, no longer just tracing.
Now, let's try that. He thought, then paused. And how do I do that?
On the panel, it mentioned he had abilities like the 'cold' and 'hot' touch—he deemed them such—but how was he supposed to actually put them into practice?
System. He called out. Any advice?
He watched for any change in the panel. The answers would certainly pop up in a written format if the system had any advice to give. Guess not.
"My other arm feels left out," she complained.
Jolting back to reality, he found her staring at him. "Why are you messaging me with your eyes closed?"
"Helps me focus," he lied, circling the bed to her other hand.
"That's good," Mrs. Olivarez praised, exhaling a hot breath.
Staring at her slightly paunchy stomach, he spotted her bush trimmed to the shape of a heart. She had moved the tower closer when he wasn't paying attention.
"Finally noticed, did you?" She asked teasingly.
"You're a tease," he accused, finding it difficult to hold himself back from pouncing on her.
She reached out once more, a horny devil in the husk of a kind mother, and grabbed his erection, stroking it to agitate him to a point where he would forget all about this massage business and give her what she wanted.
But, that couldn't be. Not today.
For the woman to even consider the offer he was about to make, he had to showcase his skills, to prove himself to not just her but himself.
Drastic circumstances required drastic actions.
How did he call upon the system? By calling it in his mind. The same principle should apply.
Calming and cool energy from my left fingers, he chanted internally, and to his ultimate relief, a cooling energy traveled through his fingertips, coating them like finger gloves.
Mrs. Olivarez's caressing of his shaft that had grown into long sensual strokes toned down, her breaths returning to a regular rhythm, and her chest no longer heaving.
She opened her eyes, staring at him.
"How do you feel now?" He asked, moving to her shoulders.
"At peace," she whispered out. "Relaxed."
Huh. It appeared more to Marke like she was about to fall asleep. He couldn't have that. Though he had tested his skills on her, it wasn't like his lightning rod had calmed down as Mrs. Olivarez had.
Scorching and arousing energy. He called out, moving to her other shoulder.
Mrs. Olivarez let out a moan.
But, as the energy continued spilling out from his right fingers, a sense of weakness and sore aches assaulted several spots of his body; the shoulders, tailbone, and neck took him. He held back a groan.
Consumes stamina with each use. He recalled the line and closed his eyes.
Sure enough. [Stamina: 2]. The stamina had decreased, as was stated.
Then suddenly, Mrs. Olivarez growled like a beast, turning around uncaring of the towels. "Fuck," she spat, grabbing the waistband of his trousers and pulling them down. "What are you doing to me today?" She whined, slamming her face against his balls, rubbing her face on his boxers, the dragon lying in wait to unleash its glory, and exhaling.
This is real. He thought, witnessing the effects on her, all the chemicals flooding into his body causing him to quiver like he was electrocuted.
He allowed her to pull down the boxers too, freeing the shackled dragon in the process, smacking the left side of her face with a thwack.
She didn't complain, just moving lower and pecking his family jewels one by one, then taking one into her mouth, tongue snaking out to give it a lick, then to another the same. She allowed his jewels mercy, unlatching them and leaving them coated in saliva, grasping his shaft near the top and raising it straight, to a full ninety degrees, and from the base of his shaft, she extended her tongue out and plopped it on the underside of his dragon.
She moved her head upwards, the tongue following, leaving a wet trail, her eyes meeting his.
Marke shivered.
"Extra naughty today, are we?" He set a palm on her scalp, eyes drifting to her doughy brown olive booty with back dimples and muscled thighs, tattoos of a long sword on her calves lifting up and swinging as he enjoyed her popsicle. He reached over, grabbing a handful, fingers grazing her lower lips, smacked a cheek, and watched it jiggle.
As if to answer the provocation, Mrs. Olivarez stopped trailing his dragon with smooches and long licks and wrapped her lips around the head of his phallus, tongue lashing out and licking haphazardly with no technique, saliva escaping out the corner of her lips like a rabid animal.
What if? A possibility emerged in his mind, gripping his heart with trepidation and fear.
What if, in her mind dazed with arousal, her teeth clamped down? That would be shooting himself in the foot.
Besides, Mrs. Olivarez was always a sexual fiend, and maybe using the Hot Touch—as he deemed just now—was maybe just a tad overboard.
Withdraw the hot touch. He thought of assigning the title to the arousing and scorching energy. It was too long for anyone's liking.
The energy ceased flowing outward, withdrawing from his fingers and resting in his palm before simply vanishing.
"What just happened?" Mrs. Olivarez asked, blinking in confusion.
"Apparently, my massages drive people crazy," he joked. "I simply pressed the arousal points in your body. Drove you wild, didn't it?"
"Arousal points?" She raised a brow in suspicion. "I have never heard anything like it. Made me feel like I would explode if I didn't devour you right now."
Marke began thinking of excuses to use. There was no chance he would reveal the existence of the system to anyone, especially someone else's wife. If he ever got married himself, he wouldn't tell his wife either. There was no need for anyone except him to know. It was selfish, but that was a character trait of his that Marke had long accepted.
"My massages are special, I would say," he said, smiling.
"Special they certainly are," she said.
Grabbing her wrist, he pried her palm away from his shaft, held her other arm, and set it behind her head. As was routine, Mrs. Olivarez interlocked her fingers, breasts on display and ready to be utilized.
His shaft, an eight-inch pillar, entered the valley, ensconced by soft and squishy flesh balloons.
Mrs. Ola puckered her lips, a stream of saliva cascading from within to the head of his shaft.
The sensation caused him to tremble and take a shaky breath.
Wiggling her chest to lather the entirety of her inner breasts and his shaft, she raised her head, staring up at him.
Marke began moving his hips, gliding it up and down the divine valley of pleasure.
Use the skills only when needed or when facing very difficult women. Got it.
He thought, taking notes while in divine pleasure.
Closing his eyes, he commanded, "Mouth."
Then, he felt her lips bottle around his phallus, lips licking at his pee-hole, and tongue flicking out, circling, and coating.
She had been an amateur at the boob-and-blow combo when they first began their rendezvous, but now she was as good as the internet influence he met after the gym, and her throat was endless.
Mrs. Olivarez was a quick learner; he had to give her that.
And most of all, the woman was a willing participant, Marke never having to do more than needed.
She was his favorite yet.