"Turn around," he ordered, slapping her face with his shaft, leaving behind the trail of mixed juices. "And lie down."
With a nod, she acquiesced.
He got behind her, rod resting on a cheek of her doughy buttocks, warm and soft to the touch.
"What was the reason you came here for again?" He asked, moving his hips, his rod falling between the cheeks.
Mrs. Olivarez pushed her hips up. "This," she replied.
Oh, you horny MILF. He thought, but he acquiesced, not just because he wanted to, but because she deserved it.
She had been, unknowingly, his test subject to verify the legitimacy of his sanity and the system.
He grabbed her by the hips. "Lift your ass a little," he said, giving it a pinch.
She did, hips arching and her core finally on display for Marke as the rest of her was.
The lips were puffy, covering the entrance into her, glistening wet, and having already left a wet patch on the massage table.
This was the first time in his half a year of meeting up and sleeping with Mrs. Olivarez that he had seen her so submissive.
Else, actions like her pulling down his pants and going at it without any foreplay or regard for Marke's opinion were a common occurrence. Not that he minded much.
He grabbed her love handles.
"Hey," Mrs. Olivarez turned around, cheeks flushed and voice meek. "Grab some place else."
"Why?" He didn't let go. "You're not as pudgy as you presume you are, Mrs. Olivarez. Don't be so paranoid."
"Besides." He got down from the massage table, then leaned forward, taking a whiff of her mound and blowing a breath at it. "I like you this way. So full of meat."
"Oh," she moaned in a sing-song manner, shivering, butt-hole winking at him.
Then, he dove in, tongue lapping at her core with abandon.
His dragon twitched, dangling from the roots, almost hurting from how stiff he was.
A part of his mind urged him to just get this over with, plow into her, and get to watching the football game. You can wait till next Sunday, can't you? It whispered like the devil. There's no rush. Especially now that you have the system. Take it easy.
But there isn't enough time. He argued with himself.
There is ample time. You're only twenty-four this year.
Nah. He thought, the tangy taste cloaking his taste buds. That's what I've been telling myself for the past 10 years. It's time to work.
And to begin his work, he needed Mrs. Olivarez satisfied and willing.
"All right, all right." Mrs. Olivarez reached back, pushing his head away from her core. "That's enough, Marke," she said, both arms lifting and grabbing each cheek, pulling them apart for him to witness. "Now, give it to me."
Marke got up, pulled at his shaft, and lined it up against her core.
He felt his jewels churn when the shaft touched her wet core, a mixture of her juices and his saliva.
A moan, and she pushed her hips back.
He didn't deny her this time. He pushed it in, her core clamping around his shaft like it had been waiting patiently and in heat for its arrival.
Her hips buckled, palms suddenly clutching and pulling the tablecloth as she clenched her teeth. A gush of warm liquid trickled out from her hole, lathering his rod.
Marke took deep breaths to contain himself and ultimately pulled out. The decrease in Stamina was showing.
Think of crashed cars, dead people. He diverted his mind to contain himself, calling up the system as well.
[Stat Points: 1, Profession Points: 2]
After gathering herself, Mrs. Olivarez turned around, presenting her breasts topped with pink nipples, sitting flat on her chest, heaving with each breath, waxed skin glistening in sweat. "Hey," she asked. "Why did you pull out?" She scooted forward, opening her legs, and with her index and middle fingers, spread her core open, the clitoris engorged in arousal. "You didn't think I was done, did you?" She asked sultrily.
Insatiable vixen. He grumbled internally.
But she was the closest person to him who possessed what he needed to begin his endeavors outside Bullwok—ample wealth. It was rare that Marke ran out of steam before his partners did. That was one reason Mrs. Olivarez visited every Sunday, Marke presumed.
System. He called out. Add 1 skill point to stamina.
Just now, he had been tired and on the verge of losing his grip, and suddenly, like he had woken up from a nap, all the energy one could need to navigate through the day flooded his body like a tidal wave and had him feeling like he could circle Bullwok ten times while sprinting.
The exhaustion from using the skills, and now the empowerment from investing points in stamina like playing a game—this was real. This wasn't a dream—as he couldn't remember ever actually penetrating in his dreams.
He smiled, an elation, a hope, flickering into a spark deep within.
Grabbing her thighs, feeling muscle under the fat, Marke aimed his shaft into her entrance. She grabbed it, soft and smooth fingers grabbing at it and directing it into her, the sword entering the scabbard with a wet collision of bodies.
"Ohhh," she moaned, arching her back, lifting her hips, and grabbing at the sheets again. She will ruin my investment. He thought. She'll pay for it too. "That's it. That's it." She repeated, perspiration coating her forehead.
Grabbing her ass and pulling her forward, Marke plowed into her with wild abandon, this time to relieve himself.
Her insides coiled around his shaft, the fleshy cavern wiggling and working to milk his dragon sawing in and out.
Mrs. Olivarez came with a squeal, like a pig. That brought a smile to his face. Someone so high and mighty at his mercy.
Then she came, her legs wrapped around his hips quivering and spasming, her throat uttering a dazed and prolonged moan, eyes closed.
"Wait! Wait!" She raised her head to signal him to stop.
But alas, Marke wasn't in the mood to listen to her.
Besides, he knew from experience—as she had told him—her "stop" didn't really mean stop.
"You really want me to?" He asked, nonetheless.
Her expression of exhaustion was suddenly gone, replaced with a glare. "Why would you even ask that?" She said accusingly.
Marke held back from rolling his eyes. I should have known better.
He hadn't stopped anyways, his shaft still rock hard inside her, and his knees bent to match the height with her muff on the table.
"Sure," he shrugged, locking his arms around her thighs. He lifted her lower half up and planted kisses on her legs, then began moving again.
She moaned, and Marke sped up.
Her moans grew louder, spasming again.
Why was she cumming constantly? Marke wondered. Though every Sunday the woman was putty in his hands in their 'intimate sessions,' he never brought her to completion this easily. Did the effect of hot still linger? It needed to be verified later.
For now, Marke just plowed.
Adding that one point of stamina made him feel as though he could go the entire midday while carrying Mrs. Olivarez by the thighs.
Ever as she spasmed, squealed, and shrieked, he didn't let up, and full of energy as he was, the weight of the bottom-heavy Mrs. Olivarez didn't tire his arms out, and the sheer pleasure transmitted from his shaft into his brains, the rhythm of hips slamming into hips, caused him to enter a state of euphoric bliss of sorts, where every problem and the world itself, except for the feeling of bliss, seemed to vanish. He closed his eyes.
What the hell was happening? He didn't know, and nor did he care, for this felt divine.
The passing of time didn't bother him.
He watched Mrs. Olivarez writhe, stopping him so she could turn on her stomach and lie there, looking back at him with hungry eyes, the mixture of sweat, perfume, and juices lingering in the air.
He got up on the bed, straddled her butt, positioned his shaft downwards, and entered once more.
Marke placed his arms on the table, beside her torso—from this position he could reach a lot deeper—and leaned forward. She squealed again.
He began pistoning, having the full intent to finally satisfy the insatiable Mrs. Olivarez.
Finally, after the clock hit 8:30 AM, Mrs. Olivarez spasmed for one final time. "Fuck!" She screamed, and Marke had to cover her mouth to muffle her screams. "Ahhhh. Cumming. Cumming." She hollered into his palm, eyelids lowering shut as she ceased movement.
He was close as well. Pulling out at the zenith of his bliss, he held his shaft over her breasts and covered them with his spunk, his mind coming into focus.
A dumb chuckle escaped Marke's lips as he looked around his apartment, the TV echoing with ads with monotonous voices.
He got off the bed, careful not to disturb the now-asleep Mrs. Olivarez.
Shower is a first. He decided. Then coffee. He nodded. When Mrs. Olivarez awoke, he would have to be ready with his proposition.