Cuckold Transmigrator: Mature Woman Conquest Plan

The bright morning sun of Gangcheng cast long shadows across the wet market, where the smell of fresh fish and damp earth mingled with the chatter of vendors. Yao Yu stood still for a moment, disoriented by the sudden shift in his surroundings. One moment he had been in his cramped apartment, and the next, the world had reshaped itself around him. He knew this place—the streets, the accents, the very air matched the novel *I Really Didn't Want to Be Reborn*. And he knew his mission: to dismantle the life of Chen Hansheng, the original scumbag protagonist, by conquering every mature woman in his orbit.

He moved through the crowd, his tall frame and handsome face drawing glances from a few housewives. But his attention fixed on a woman ahead of him. She stood at a vegetable stall, her back to him, and even from this distance, her figure commanded attention. She wore a simple floral dress that hugged her curves—hips wide and round, waist narrow, shoulders straight. Her hair was pinned up in a neat bun, revealing a graceful neck. When she turned to pick through a pile of greens, Yao Yu caught sight of her profile: smooth skin, high cheekbones, a mouth that seemed perpetually poised for a smile. This was no ordinary middle-aged woman. This was a woman who had taken care of herself.

He stepped closer, pretending to examine a heap of bok choy, and heard her speak to the vendor. "Two jin of these, please. And are the water spinach fresh today?" Her voice was warm, cultured, with a slight huskiness that hinted at sophistication. The vendor grinned. "Mrs. Liang, everything I have is fresh. Your son came by yesterday, didn't he? Such a successful young man, that Chen Hansheng."

Yao Yu’s heart thumped. *Liang Meijuan.* Chen Hansheng’s mother. The target had found him.

He followed her at a distance as she moved from stall to stall, her basket filling with produce, meat, and spices. She paused to haggle over a cut of pork, her laugh light and easy, drawing the admiration of the butcher. Yao Yu watched the sway of her hips, the way her dress pulled tight across her rear when she leaned forward. He imagined the warmth of that body, the softness of those curves, and felt a familiar stir in his groin.

The wet market floor was slick with water and scraps. As Liang Meijuan turned to leave a fruit stall, her foot landed on a discarded watermelon rind. Her arms flailed, the basket tipping, and she let out a sharp gasp. Yao Yu moved without thinking—or rather, he moved with perfect calculation. He caught her around the waist, pulling her against his chest, his hand pressing into the soft swell of her breast. His other hand slid down, steadying her by the hip, his fingers grazing the curve of her buttock.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed, his voice low and concerned, even as his thumb traced a slow circle on the side of her breast. "Are you alright?"

Liang Meijuan's face flushed with shock and something else. She felt the solid wall of his chest, the strength in his arms, and below that, something large and unmistakable pressing against her lower back. Her breath hitched. "I… I'm fine. Thank you." She tried to step away, but his hold didn't loosen. Instead, he guided her to a quieter corner behind a stack of crates, his hand still on her hip.

"Your dress is wet," he said, his eyes dark with concern. "Let me help you." He brushed a bit of moisture from her shoulder, his touch lingering. Liang Meijuan looked up at him—young, handsome, his face so close she could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. Her heart beat faster. She had not been touched like this in years. Her husband, Chen Zhaojun, had long lost interest, their nights a routine of quick, unsatisfying fumbles. This man’s hands felt like fire.

"You're too kind," she managed, but her voice was breathless. Without meaning to, she shifted her hips, and the bulge in his pants pressed more firmly against her. She felt its length, its thickness, and a wave of heat washed through her.

Yao Yu leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. "A beautiful woman like you shouldn't be alone in a market like this." His hand slid from her hip to her waist, pulling her closer. Liang Meijuan let out a shaky moan. She knew this was wrong—she was married, he was young enough to be her son. But the thought only made the excitement sharper. She turned in his arms, pressing her chest against his, and brought her lips to his.

The kiss was hungry, desperate. Their mouths clashed, tongues tangling as Yao Yu’s hands roamed her body—kneading her breasts through the dress, then slipping down to grip her buttocks, squeezing hard. Liang Meijuan gasped into his mouth and arched into him. She could feel his erection, enormous and straining against his pants, and she wanted it. Her hands fumbled at his belt, but he caught her wrists.

"Not here," he whispered, his voice rough. "But I need you." He guided her thigh between his legs, pressing himself against the soft flesh through both layers of clothing. Liang Meijuan understood. She wrapped her leg around his, moving in a slow rhythm, rubbing her thigh along the length of him. He groaned and bit her lower lip, his hands still full of her rear. The friction was maddening. She could feel him throbbing, and her own body responded, a damp heat pooling between her legs.

They moved together in the shadow of the crates, the noise of the market a distant hum. Liang Meijuan’s breath came in ragged gasps. She had never felt so alive, so wanted. Her thigh worked faster, wetness seeping through her dress as she imagined what he would feel like inside her. Then Yao Yu stiffened, a low growl escaping his throat, and she felt a hot pulse against her leg, the cloth dampening. A moment later, her own climax rippled through her, a sharp, sweet release that left her trembling in his arms.

They stood there for a long moment, catching their breath. Yao Yu pulled back, his eyes soft and vulnerable. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking. "I don't even know your name. I just… I haven't been with anyone in so long. I came to this city alone, no job, no home. I'm just lost."

Liang Meijuan looked at him—this beautiful, strong young man who had given her more pleasure in five minutes than her husband had in years. A maternal instinct stirred in her, mingled with raw desire. She reached up and cupped his cheek. "I'm Liang Meijuan. And you don't have to be alone anymore." She smiled, a slow, knowing smile. "I have a spare room. I could take you in as my godson. No one would think twice."

Yao Yu’s eyes shone with gratitude. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose."

"You're not imposing," she said, taking his hand. "You're saving me."

They walked out of the alley, her basket forgotten, her hand still clasped in his. Neither noticed the shadow that detached itself from a nearby pillar. Lü Yuqing, forty-one years old, mother of Xiao Rongyu, had been shopping for fish when she saw everything—the fall, the groping, the kiss, the frenzy against the crates. She stood frozen now, her heart pounding. Liang Meijuan, that prim housewife, with a young stud? And he was so… magnificent. A hot jealousy coiled in Lü Yuqing’s stomach, followed by a terrible, thrilling thought: *If Liang Meijuan can have that, why can’t I?* She watched them disappear into the crowd, her lips parting, her own thighs pressing together. The game had only just begun.

Liang Meijuan's hand trembled slightly as she inserted the key into the lock. The familiar click of the door opening sent a thrill through her body that she hadn't felt in years. Behind her, Yao Yu stood patient and calm, that devastating smile still playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Come in, come in," she said, her voice a pitch higher than usual. "Make yourself at home."

The living room was modest but well-kept. A large television dominated one wall, and the faint scent of yesterday's stir-fry lingered in the air. Chen Zhaojun was exactly where she expected him to be—slouched in his worn leather armchair, eyes glued to some chess match replay on the screen.

"Zhaojun," she called out, her voice steady despite the hammering in her chest. "This is Yao Yu. I told you about him. The young man who helped me with the groceries."

Chen Zhaojun grunted, barely turning his head. Forty-five years of civil service had dulled his senses to anything beyond his immediate routines. He was a man of habits—chess, television, and the occasional grunt of acknowledgment that passed for conversation.

"Mm," he said. "Nice to meet you."

Yao Yu stepped forward, extending his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Uncle Chen. Sorry to intrude on your evening."

Chen Zhaojun finally looked up, taking in the younger man's athletic build and handsome features. He shook the offered hand with a limp grip, then turned back to his chess match. "No trouble. Liang Meijuan, is there anything to eat?"

"In the kitchen," she said quickly. "I'll warm it up for you."

She led Yao Yu through the narrow hallway, past framed family photos and faded wallpaper. Her bedroom door was slightly ajar, and she caught a glimpse of the unmade bed before quickly looking away. The tension in her lower belly was almost unbearable.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked, her voice dropping as they entered the kitchen.

Yao Yu leaned against the counter, arms crossed. The way his muscles strained against his shirt made her mouth go dry. "Actually, I was hoping I could use your shower. I worked up quite a sweat today."

"The shower?" The words came out breathless. "Of course. Let me show you."

She led him to the bathroom at the end of the hall, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain he could hear it. The bathroom was small and dated, with white tiles and a shower curtain that had seen better days.

"Towels are in the cabinet," she said, pointing. "If you need anything else, just—"

"Thank you, Auntie." His hand brushed against hers as he took the towel she offered. The contact lasted only a second, but it sent electricity racing up her arm. "I'll be quick."

She retreated to the kitchen, but she couldn't keep her mind on the task at hand. Every sound from the bathroom seemed amplified—the rustle of clothing, the creak of the shower door sliding open, the hiss of water hitting tile. She imagined the water cascading down his body, over those broad shoulders, down that sculpted chest.

The doorbell rang, startling her. Chen Zhaojun's voice carried from the living room. "Get that, will you?"

But before she could move, she heard the front door open and close. Her husband's footsteps approached. "I need to run to the convenience store," he said, grabbing his jacket. "The chess club's meeting tomorrow and I need new batteries for my clock. Be back in twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes," she repeated, her mind racing.

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, she was moving. Her feet carried her to the bathroom door before she had time to think. The shower was still running, steam curling out from the gap where the door wasn't quite closed.

She pushed it open.

Yao Yu stood under the spray, his back to her. Water streamed over every contour of his body, tracing the lines of his muscles, the curve of his spine, the perfect V-shape of his torso. But it was what she saw when he turned around that made her gasp.

Even flaccid, his cock hung heavy and thick, at least twenty centimeters of potential that stirred something primal in her core. It swayed slightly as he moved, a promise of what was to come.

"Auntie," he said, his voice low and amused. "Did you forget something?"

"The towel," she whispered, holding up the one in her hand. But he wasn't using a towel right now. They both knew it was an excuse.

She stepped forward, into the steam, into the heat. Her house slippers were already wet as she stood on the bath mat. Yao Yu made no move to cover himself.

"Come closer," he said.

She did. Her hand reached out, trembling, and touched his chest. The water was warm against her palm, his skin slick beneath her fingers. She traced the outline of his pectorals, down his abs, stopping just above the thatch of dark hair at his groin.

"If this isn't what you want," he said, but his hand came up to cup her chin, tilting her face toward his, "you should leave now."

In answer, she dropped to her knees.

The tiles were cold and hard beneath her, but she didn't care. Her hand wrapped around his shaft, marveling at the weight of it, the heat. Even soft, it filled her palm completely. She looked up at him, at the way the water traced the hard lines of his jaw, the dark hunger in his eyes.

Then she took him in her mouth.

He was already beginning to harden, thickening against her tongue. She worked him with practiced skill, her lips sliding over the head, her tongue tracing the vein along the underside. Thirty years of marriage had taught her technique, but this—this was different. This was hunger, pure and simple.

Yao Yu's hand came to rest on the back of her head, not forcing, just guiding. His breathing had deepened, his body tensing beneath the spray.

"Good," he murmured. "Just like that."

She redoubled her efforts, taking him deeper, feeling him grow to full erection in her mouth. Thirty centimeters. The thought made her moan around him, the vibration drawing a groan from the young man above her.

The bathroom was thick with steam and the sounds of her sucking, his breathing, the rhythmic slap of her jaw working. She pulled back, gasping for air, and pressed her face against his thigh. Her breasts were soaked through her thin blouse, her nipples painfully hard.

"Turn around," he said.

She did, her knees scraping the tiles as she rotated. He pulled her to her feet, pressing her against the cold wall of the shower. His chest was warm against her back, his erection pressing into the curve of her ass through the thin fabric of her skirt.

"Take this off," he instructed, tugging at her blouse.

Her fingers fumbled with the buttons, but she managed. The blouse fell to the wet floor, followed by her skirt. She stood in only her underwear, her back pressed against his chest, feeling every inch of him.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his lips brushing her ear. "Once we do this, there's no going back."

"Yes." The word came out a gasp. "I want this. I want you."

His hands came up to cup her breasts, squeezing through the lace of her bra. She arched into his touch, moaning as his thumbs found her nipples and rolled them.

"Look at yourself," he said, turning her head toward the mirror that was slowly fogging over. She could see the outline of them through the steam—her body pale and yielding against his tanned hardness, his hands dark against her fair skin. "You're beautiful."

Tears pricked at her eyes. It had been so long since she'd felt beautiful. So long since anyone had looked at her with desire instead of familiarity.

He turned her to face him again, and before she could react, he was lifting her. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist, and the head of his cock pressed against the damp fabric of her panties. Even through the barrier, she could feel how huge he was, how impossibly thick.

He didn't enter her. Not yet. Instead, he began to grind against her, the friction maddening through the thin cloth. Her head fell back against the tile as he moved, his mouth finding her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breast.

Outside, the front door clicked.

Liang Meijuan froze. Her eyes flew open. "Zhaojun," she hissed. "He's back early."

But Yao Yu didn't stop. If anything, his rhythm became more urgent, more insistent. The sound of footsteps in the hallway, the jingle of keys—every noise seemed to sharpen her senses, to heighten the pleasure building in her core.

"Don't stop," she begged. "Please, don't stop."

"This is what you want?" His voice was a low growl in her ear. "This is what you need?"

"Yes!"

The footsteps stopped at the bathroom door. A knock. "Liang Meijuan? You in there?"

She couldn't answer. All her focus was on the pressure building between her legs, the thick length of him grinding against her most sensitive spot. Her orgasm was cresting, a wave about to break.

"I'm taking in a godson," she managed to gasp out through clenched teeth. "Be out in a minute."

There was a pause, then footsteps retreating. Chen Zhaojun's voice drifted back, unconcerned. "Alright. I'm going to watch the game."

The moment the living room door clicked shut, Liang Meijuan came. Her orgasm ripped through her, her body convulsing in Yao Yu's arms, a scream swallowed by the roar of the shower. She felt him stiffen, felt the hot pulse of his release against her belly through her panties, felt him groan against her neck as he came.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, tangled together, breathing hard. The water continued to fall, washing away the evidence of what they'd done.

Slowly, Yao Yu lowered her to the floor. She steadied herself against the wall, her legs weak, her body still trembling. She watched as he reached for the towel she'd brought, as he began to dry himself.

Then she realized there was still cum on her face, a few drops that had splashed up during his climax. She didn't wipe it away. Instead, she met his eyes in the mirror, opened her mouth, and let the cum slide onto her tongue.

"Delicious," she said, swallowing.

Yao Yu smiled. "That's just the beginning."

She looked down at his cock, still half-hard, and felt a hunger she'd never known. She wanted to feel it inside her. She wanted to taste it again. She wanted to spend years learning every inch of this young man's body.

"Chen Zhaojun has a nightly routine," she said, her voice low and purposeful. "He falls asleep during the ten o'clock news. Every night at 9:45, I bring him his sleeping pills with warm milk. He never suspects a thing."

"Good," Yao Yu said, stepping out of the shower. He pulled on his pants, but didn't bother with his shirt. "Because I have plans for tonight. And tomorrow, I want to meet your friend Lyu Yuqing."

Liang Meijuan's breath caught. "How do you know about Lyu Yuqing?"

"I know a lot of things." He finished dressing, then turned to face her. "Chen Hansheng's mother, Chen Hansheng's lover's mother... they're all just pieces on a board. And you, Liang Meijuan, are going to help me move them."

She should have been shocked. She should have been angry. But all she felt was excitement, a dark thrill that pooled in her belly and spread through her veins.

"What do you need me to do?"

The midday sun filtered through the kitchen window, casting warm light across the countertops. Liang Meijuan stood at the stove, wearing a tight white bodycon dress that barely reached mid-thigh. The fabric clung to every curve of her well-preserved figure, and she had applied a touch of lipstick and mascara—just enough to feel beautiful without being obvious. She hummed softly as she chopped vegetables, the hem of the dress riding up slightly as she moved.

In the living room, Yao Yu stirred from his nap on the sofa. The sound of the knife against the cutting board drew him toward the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway, his eyes traveling over Liang Meijuan’s silhouette. The dress hugged her hips, the curve of her ass prominent as she leaned forward to check a pot on the stove. His cock stirred instantly, pressing against his jeans.

He stepped silently behind her, sliding his hands around her waist. His palms flattened against her stomach, then crept upward to cup her breasts through the thin fabric. Her nipples were already hard, pressing against the material.

“Oh!” Liang Meijuan gasped, but she didn’t pull away. She leaned back into him, her body molding against his. “You scared me, you little rascal.”

“You look too good to resist, Auntie,” Yao Yu murmured into her ear, his breath warm against her skin. He squeezed her breasts gently, kneading the soft mounds. She let out a soft moan, her head falling back against his shoulder.

“Careful,” she whispered, but she pressed her hips backward, grinding her plump ass against the bulge in his jeans. His cock was already fully erect, straining against the denim. She could feel its length through the layers, hard and thick, and a thrill ran through her.

Yao Yu’s hands slid down from her breasts to her hips, gripping the fabric of her dress. He pulled the hem up slightly, exposing her thighs. Her legs were smooth and toned from years of careful maintenance. He pressed his hips forward, his cock sliding between her thighs from behind. The fabric of his jeans rubbed against her wet panties through her thin stockings.

“You’re so bad,” Liang Meijuan said, her voice breathy. She reached back and unbuckled his belt, then unzipped his jeans. His cock sprang free, hot and throbbing. She took it in her hand, guiding it between her thighs. “Just like that—slow.”

He thrust gently, his cock sliding between the smooth skin of her thighs, the head brushing against her clothed pussy with each motion. She braced herself against the counter, the cutting board and knife forgotten. The vegetables lay half-chopped, but neither of them cared.

“Mmm, yes,” she moaned, her eyes half-closed. The forbidden thrill of it, right here in the kitchen where her husband could walk in at any moment, sent a spike of heat through her core. “Faster, baby.”

Yao Yu increased his pace, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust between her thighs. The friction was exquisite, her skin slick with her own arousal as she ground against him. He could feel her wetness soaking through her thin panties, warm and inviting.

The sound of footsteps from the hallway made them both freeze.

“Meijuan?” Chen Zhaojun’s voice came from the living room, approaching. “What are you making for lunch?”

Liang Meijuan’s eyes flew open. She quickly dropped the hem of her dress, but Yao Yu didn’t pull away. He remained pressed against her back, his cock still wedged between her thighs. She reached back and tried to push him away, but he held firm, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “Just act natural.”

She took a deep breath, turning her head to face the doorway as Chen Zhaojun appeared. His eyes swept over them, lingering on her tight dress and Yao Yu’s close proximity to her.

“What’s going on here?” Chen Zhaojun asked, his voice flat.

Before Liang Meijuan could answer, Yao Yu smiled innocently. “Oh, Uncle, I was just asking Auntie if she needed help with lunch. She said I could watch her cook. I’ve always wanted to learn her recipe for braised ribs.”

Chen Zhaojun’s gaze shifted from Yao Yu’s face to his wife’s flushed cheeks and the way she was pressed against his chest. “You’re dressed… rather skimpy for cooking, Meijuan. And why are you standing so close to him?”

Liang Meijuan forced a laugh, her hand discreetly pressing Yao Yu’s thigh to keep him still. Inside, her heart was pounding. But she had always been quick-witted. “What, you’re jealous? I’m just cultivating maternal affection for the boy. He’s been so helpful around the house. Besides, it’s hot—I wanted to wear something light.”

“Maternal affection,” Chen Zhaojun repeated, his tone dubious. But he had no real evidence, and he was too tired to argue. “Fine. Just be careful not to burn yourself.” He turned and walked back toward the living room, muttering about chess matches on TV.

The moment he was out of sight, Liang Meijuan exhaled shakily. Yao Yu laughed softly, his breath warm against her ear. “That was close.”

“You nearly got us caught!” she hissed, but she was smiling. She turned around, cupping his face in her hands, and pulled him into a deep kiss. Her tongue met his, wet and demanding. His hands found her ass, squeezing the soft cheeks through the dress.

Without breaking the kiss, she aligned his cock with her thighs again, pressing her legs together. He thrust against her, the head of his cock sliding against her clit through the thin fabric of her panties. She moaned into his mouth, the sound lost in the kiss.

“I want you to come,” she breathed against his lips. “Right here.”

He needed no further encouragement. His rhythm became faster, more urgent. Her thighs clamped around his cock, providing just the right amount of friction. The kitchen was filled with the wet sounds of their coupling, the smell of her arousal mixing with the aroma of cooking food.

“Yes, yes,” she cried softly, her body trembling as she came, her orgasm rippling through her. Her juices soaked her panties, staining his cock as he continued thrusting.

A few more strokes, and Yao Yu groaned, his hips jerking as he ejaculated. Hot spurts of cum coated her inner thighs and dripped down her stockings. He shuddered against her, spent.

Liang Meijuan pulled back slowly, her eyes shining. She knelt down, her knees hitting the cool tile floor. Without a word, she took his still-hard cock in her hands and began licking it clean. Her tongue traced the veins, lapping up every drop of his semen. She sucked the head gently, savoring the taste, then looked up at him with a wicked smile.

“You taste wonderful,” she said.

He helped her to her feet, zipping up his pants. She smoothed her dress down, checking her appearance in the reflection of the window. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly swollen. She turned to the stove and resumed cooking as if nothing had happened.

“You should go wash your hands,” she said over her shoulder, her voice casual, “and we can eat lunch soon.”

Yao Yu grinned. “Yes, Auntie.”

He left the kitchen, his body still humming with pleasure. But his mind was already on the next step. Liang Meijuan was secured. Now he just needed to get closer to Lyu Yuqing. And for that, he would need his new ally’s help.

The midday sun streamed through the dining room windows, casting warm patterns across the white tablecloth. Liang Meijuan had prepared a feast—braised pork belly, stir-fried greens, a clear soup with tofu and shrimp, and a platter of steamed fish that smelled of ginger and scallion.

"Yao Yu, sit here," she said, patting the chair directly beside her. Her voice carried a warmth that made the simple invitation feel like a promise.

I slid into the seat, catching the faint floral scent of her perfume. She wore a light blue blouse today, the top two buttons left open just enough to reveal the curve of her collarbone. A thin gold necklace rested against her skin, rising and falling with each breath.

Chen Zhaojun sat across from us, already reaching for the television remote to tune into the midday news. His movements were automatic, habitual—a man who had long since settled into the comfortable rhythm of domestic routine.

Liang Meijuan picked up my bowl and ladled soup into it, her fingers brushing against mine as she passed it back. "You need to eat more. You're too thin."

"I'm not thin at all," I said, smiling.

"Men can always eat more." She selected a piece of braised pork from the dish, held it up on her chopsticks, and brought it directly to my lips. "Open up."

I glanced at Chen Zhaojun. His eyes were fixed on the television screen, watching some political commentary with mild disinterest.

I opened my mouth, and she slid the meat inside. The rich, savory flavor melted across my tongue. She watched me chew with obvious satisfaction, her lips curving into a small smile.

"Auntie, I can feed myself," I said, after I swallowed.

"It's more intimate this way," she replied, her voice dropping to a whisper that only I could hear. Then, louder: "Think of it as a mother caring for her son. Hansheng never lets me feed him anymore."

Chen Zhaojun grunted. "He's not your son, Meijuan. Don't make the boy uncomfortable."

"If he were uncomfortable, he would have said so." She turned to me, her eyes searching. "You're not uncomfortable, are you?"

"Not at all," I said.

She beamed and reached for another piece of meat. This time, she fed me with her fingers, letting the tip of her index finger linger against my lower lip for a beat too long.

Chen Zhaojun's brow furrowed, but before he could speak, Liang Meijuan cut him off. "Why are you so stiff? It's just bonding. Besides, Yao Yu is Hansheng's classmate. Treating him well means treating Hansheng well."

"He's a grown man—"

"And I'm a grown woman." She pressed her leg against mine under the table. "I know what I'm doing."

I felt the warmth of her thigh through the thin fabric of her black slacks. She shifted slightly, pressing harder, and I could feel the softness of her flesh yielding against me. My hand drifted down below the table edge, resting on her knee.

Chen Zhaojun returned his attention to the television, muttering something about the day's stock market reports.

Under the table, my hand slid upward along her thigh. She parted her legs slightly, inviting the advance. Her hand found mine and guided it higher, until my fingers brushed against the damp heat of her through the fabric.

I caressed her gently, enjoying the way she bit her lower lip to suppress a moan. Her hand tightened around mine, urging me on.

"This fish is very fresh," she said, her voice slightly strained. "I bought it this morning at the market."

"Is that so?" I asked, my fingers continuing their work.

"Mhm." She took a sip of water, her hand trembling slightly as she set the glass down. "The vendor said it was caught this morning. Very... fresh."

Chen Zhaojun looked up from his plate. "Are you feeling unwell? Your face is a bit red."

"It's the heat," she said quickly. "I was standing over the stove for too long."

I withdrew my hand and picked up my chopsticks, sampling the fish. "It's delicious, Auntie. Really fresh."

Her eyes met mine, dark with unspoken promises.

After the meal, I stood to help clear the dishes. Liang Meijuan waved Chen Zhaojun away when he tried to assist. "Go watch your show. Yao Yu can help me in the kitchen."

Chen Zhaojun hesitated for a moment, then shuffled toward the living room sofa, where the television beckoned.

I carried the dirty plates into the kitchen, setting them in the sink. Liang Meijuan followed close behind, closing the kitchen door behind her with a soft click.

No sooner had the latch caught than her arms were around my neck, pulling me into a kiss. Her mouth was hungry, desperate, her tongue darting against my lips until I opened for her. I tasted the lingering flavor of the meal on her breath, mixed with something sweeter—anticipation.

Her hands roamed my chest, nails scratching lightly through the fabric of my shirt. I pressed her against the counter, my hips grinding against hers. She gasped into my mouth, her fingers tangling in my hair.

"The dishes," she breathed, breaking the kiss.

"Can wait."

I slid my hand down her back, over the curve of her waist, until I reached her buttocks. I squeezed, feeling the firm flesh yield beneath my grip. She moaned, burying her face in my neck.

"After he takes his nap," she whispered, her voice husky. "He always naps after lunch. Around one o'clock."

"What time is it now?"

"Almost twelve thirty." She pulled back, her eyes hazy with desire. "Thirty more minutes. Come to Hansheng's room. I'll be waiting."

I kissed her forehead, her nose, the corner of her mouth. "I'll be there."

She smiled, adjusting her blouse and smoothing her hair. Then she turned to the sink, turning on the faucet with practiced ease. "I'll wash, you dry."

We worked in comfortable silence, our shoulders brushing, our fingers occasionally meeting as I took the cleaned dishes from her hands. The domesticity of the scene felt surreal—playing house while her husband sat just a few meters away, oblivious.

At exactly one o'clock, Chen Zhaojun's loud yawn echoed from the living room. I heard the television click off, followed by the sound of his slippers shuffling across the floor.

"I'm going to lie down for a bit," he announced, poking his head into the kitchen. "Don't make too much noise."

"Rest well," Liang Meijuan said, her voice perfectly calm.

His footsteps retreated down the hallway, followed by the creak of a bedroom door and the click of a lock.

Liang Meijuan dried her hands on a towel and turned to me, her eyes gleaming. "He's gone."

"All the way?"

"He locks the door and doesn't come out for at least two hours." She stepped closer, her hand resting on my chest. "We have plenty of time."

I followed her out of the kitchen and into the living room. She paused, looking back at me with a mischievous smile. "Wait here for a moment. Let me make sure he's really asleep."

She disappeared down the hallway. I heard soft footsteps, a brief pause, then her returning steps.

"He's snoring already," she said, emerging from the hallway. "Like clockwork."

She took my hand and led me to the sofa. Instead of continuing to Chen Hansheng's room, she sat down, pulling me beside her.

"Let's watch some TV first," she said, her voice low. "Just in case."

I understood. The thrill of proximity, the danger of discovery—it only heightened the pleasure.

She leaned against me, her body soft and warm. Her hand found my thigh, stroking gently through the fabric of my trousers. I responded by sliding my palm up her leg, over the smooth texture of her stockings.

She wore no skirt, just a blouse and slacks. But I could feel the outline of the stockings through the thin fabric, could feel the heat of her skin beneath.

On the television, some afternoon drama played out—a tearful reunion, a dramatic confession. Neither of us paid attention.

I reached for a grape from the fruit bowl on the coffee table. "Open up," I said, repeating her words from lunch.

She parted her lips, and I placed the grape inside. Her lips closed around my fingers, sucking gently before letting go.

"Not fair," I said. "I want one too."

She selected a grape, but instead of handing it to me, she held it between her teeth and leaned in. Her eyes held mine as she offered the grape to my mouth.

I accepted it, my lips brushing against hers. The grape burst between us, its juice mingling with the taste of her lipstick.

She giggled softly, wiping a drop of juice from my chin. "Messy."

"You started it."

She kissed me then, soft and slow. Her hand found my zipper.

"Not here," I whispered, glancing at the hallway.

"Just a little." Her fingers worked deftly. "He's dead to the world."

I leaned back against the sofa cushions, letting her have her way. She was skilled, her touch knowing and confident. I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation of her fingers.

The television droned on. Some commercial for a miracle cleaning product. A jingle that would be stuck in my head for days.

She whispered my name, her breath hot against my ear. "I want you."

"Then take me."

She stood, straightening her clothes with practiced swiftness. Then she offered me her hand.

I took it, letting her pull me to my feet. She led me down the hallway, past the bedroom where her husband slept, to the door of Chen Hansheng's room.

She opened it, pulling me inside, and closed the door behind us.

Liang Meijuan turned the key in the bedroom door with a soft click, the sound echoing in the quiet afternoon. She faced Yao Yu, her eyes dark with hunger. “No interruptions now,” she murmured, her fingers already working the buttons of her blouse.

She let the fabric fall open, revealing a black lace bra that strained to hold her full breasts. Her skin was smooth, pale, with only the faintest lines at her neck betraying her age. She slid the blouse off her shoulders, then reached behind to unclasp her bra. Her breasts swung free—heavy, round, the nipples a deep rose and already stiff. She watched his gaze rake over her, and a slow smile spread across her lips.

“Like what you see?” she asked, her voice low. She turned slowly, giving him a view of her back, the gentle curve of her spine, the flare of her hips. Then she faced him again, her hands going to the waistband of her skirt. It pooled at her feet. She stood in only black lace panties, the fabric dark in the center with a wetness that had nothing to do with the earlier session.

Yao Yu’s breath caught. His erection strained against his trousers, impossible to hide. He reached for his belt, but she stepped forward and pushed his hands away.

“Let me,” she whispered. She unbuckled him, slid his pants and boxers down. His cock sprang free, thick and long, already slick at the tip. She wrapped her fingers around it, feeling its weight. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” she said, not a question. Her eyes glittered. “I can tell by how you look at me. How you touch me.”

He nodded, his throat dry.

“Good,” she said, squeezing gently. “That makes this even better. And I’ll give you something special later—my ass. I’ve never let anyone there. But for you, I’ll save it. That’s your cherry to take.”

He groaned, his hands moving to her hips. She stepped back, hooking her thumbs into her panties and sliding them down. The fabric was slick with a mixture of his earlier seed and her own arousal. She let them fall to the floor and stepped out of them.

“Come here,” she said, lying back on the bed, her legs parting. Her cunt was pink and glistening, the lips swollen. She reached down and spread herself open. “Guide it in. Slow. I want to feel every inch.”

Yao Yu climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between her thighs. The head of his cock pressed against her entrance, and he pushed—just the tip. She gasped, her eyes fluttering closed. He pushed deeper, inch by inch, the tight heat enveloping him. Her walls clenched, trying to pull him in.

When he was fully seated, buried to the hilt, her back arched off the mattress. A sharp cry tore from her throat. “Fuck—yes—I’m coming, I’m coming already!” Her body shuddered, her inner muscles milking him in waves. He held still, letting her ride out the orgasm, his own thighs trembling with the effort not to thrust.

She lay panting, eyes half-lidded. “Don’t stop,” she breathed. “Move. Slowly at first.”

He obeyed, pulling out until only the head remained, then pushing back in. Her slickness made it easy, the sound of their bodies meeting a wet slap. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

“Turn over,” she said after a minute. He pulled out and she rolled onto her side, lifting her top leg. “Spoon me. Put it in from behind.”

He settled behind her, his chest against her back, and guided his cock back into her wet heat. This angle let him go even deeper. She moaned, reaching back to grip his hip. “Like this… slow… yes…”

They moved together, a rhythm building. Her hand reached between her legs to rub her clit. “Faster now,” she urged. He increased his pace, the bed frame starting to creak. “Good… good… now I want to ride you.”

She rolled onto her back, then pushed him onto his back, straddling him. She took his cock in hand and lowered herself onto it, both of them groaning as he filled her. She began to move, a slow grind that deepened with each rotation. Her breasts bounced in his face, and he lifted his head to suck one nipple into his mouth. She cried out, her pace quickening.

“I want your cervix,” he said, his voice husky. “Can I push deeper?”

“Yes—yes—fuck me open.”

He gripped her hips and thrust upward, a sharp, hard jab that made her gasp. He did it again, and again, each time burying himself so deep he felt a ring of tight muscle at the end. On the fourth thrust, he breached it. Her cervix gave way, and the head of his cock slid into the inner chamber. She screamed, her whole body convulsing.

“Oh god—I’m coming again—don’t stop—!”

Her walls clamped down, a rhythmic pulsing that squeezed him from all sides. She collapsed forward, her forehead against his chest, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

And then a knock shattered the moment.

“Meijuan? You in there?”

The voice of Chen Zhaojun, muffled through the door.

Liang Meijuan froze, her eyes wide. She looked at Yao Yu, then pressed a finger to her lips. “Yes, dear? What is it?” she called, her voice steady despite her trembling thighs.

“I heard some noise. You okay?”

She didn’t stop her slow, grinding motion on Yao Yu’s cock, her inner muscles clenching deliberately. “I asked Yao Yu to give me a massage,” she said, her voice sweet and even. “My lower back has been killing me. He’s really working out the knots.”

There was a pause. “Oh. Alright. I’m going to go play chess with Old Wang down at the square.”

“Have fun, dear. I’ll make dinner later.”

Footsteps retreated, then the front door opened and closed.

Liang Meijuan let out a long, shuddering breath. She began to ride him again, faster now, harder. “Fuck me,” she hissed. “Cum inside me. Fill me up.”

She rode him in a frenzy, her hips slapping against his, her juices coating his thighs. Yao Yu felt the pressure building, his balls tightening. She leaned back, her hands on his chest, and began to circle her hips—a move that had her clit grinding against his pubic bone. Her face contorted, eyes rolling back, mouth hanging open, tongue lolling slightly.

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna—”

Her body locked, her cunt squeezing him in a vise. The sight of her ahegao face, the sheer abandon, pushed him over the edge. He roared, his hips bucking as he emptied himself into her, hot spurts painting her inner walls. She milked him, taking every drop, and collapsed onto him, both of them slick with sweat and sex.

For a long moment, only their ragged breathing filled the room. Then she lifted her head, kissed his chest, and whispered, “You did so well.”

She didn’t move to clean up. She let his seed pool inside her, savoring the feeling of being claimed. Outside, the distant sound of chess pieces clicking on a board signaled that Chen Zhaojun was gone for the afternoon.

The air in the bedroom was thick with the scent of sex and sweat. Liang Meijuan’s body trembled as she came down from the peak of her climax, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Yao Yu’s cock was still buried deep inside her, twitching with the last pulses of his release. She felt the warm trickle of his seed leaking from her core, and a lazy, possessive satisfaction spread through her chest.

With a soft groan, she shifted beneath him, her thighs still wrapped loosely around his waist. Yao Yu withdrew slowly, his slick cock sliding out of her with a wet sound. Liang Meijuan’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him with a dazed, adoring smile.

“Let me take care of you, godson,” she murmured, her voice hoarse from screaming.

She pushed herself up onto her elbows, then gently guided him to lie back on the bed. Yao Yu complied, his chest rising and falling as he watched her. Liang Meijuan’s fingers traced down his stomach, through the coarse hair, until she reached his cock. It was still semi-hard, glistening with her juices and his cum. She took a deep breath, then lowered her head, pressing her lips to the tip.

Her tongue darted out, lapping at the mixture of their fluids. She took him into her mouth slowly, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked, cleaning every inch of his shaft with methodical care. Her breasts brushed against his thighs, and she hummed in contentment as she felt him harden again in her mouth. Within moments, his cock was fully erect, standing proud at a full thirty centimeters.

Liang Meijuan released him with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting her lips to the glans. She looked up at him, her eyes dark with renewed desire. “You're ready again so fast?”

Yao Yu grinned, his hands reaching out to cup her face. “You’ve got a talent, godmother.”

She laughed, a low, husky sound. Then she turned around, bracing her hands on the bed, and presented her butt to him. Her ass was round and firm, still glistening with sweat. She bent over until her chest pressed against the sheets, arching her back.

“Take me from behind, godson,” she whispered. “I want to feel you like this.”

Yao Yu didn’t need a second invitation. He knelt behind her, guiding his cock to her entrance. He pushed in slowly, savoring the tight, wet heat that enveloped him. Liang Meijuan let out a shuddering breath as he filled her, her fingers gripping the sheets.

He started to thrust, a steady rhythm that soon quickened. The new angle made him hit deeper, and she moaned with each stroke. Her hips bucked back to meet him, and soon the room was filled with the sound of their bodies slapping together.

“Yes… yes, like that… don’t stop…” she gasped.

He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her waist, and drove into her harder. She came again in a series of convulsions, her inner walls clenching around him. Yao Yu groaned but didn’t slow down. He lifted her off the bed, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he stood. Her back pressed against his chest, and he bounced her on his cock, each thrust driving deep into her core.

Liang Meijuan’s head fell back against his shoulder, her mouth open in a silent scream. Another orgasm ripped through her, and she clung to him, her nails digging into his arms.

“I can’t… I’m going to—” she sobbed.

But Yao Yu wasn’t done. He lowered her back onto the bed, positioning her on her back again, and drove into her with relentless purpose. He aimed for the deepest part of her, the cervix, and with one final, powerful thrust, he breached it. Liang Meijuan’s eyes flew open, a high-pitched wail escaping her throat as he came inside her again, the warmth flooding her womb.

“Godson… my godson… I want to carry your child,” she cried, her voice breaking. “I want to bear your child… please…”

The words tumbled out of her as her climax peaked, her vision going white. The pleasure was so intense that her body gave out, and she slid into unconsciousness, her limbs going limp.

Yao Yu remained inside her for a long moment, his breath ragged. He slowly pulled out, his cock softening. He lay down beside her, watching her chest rise and fall. After a few minutes, her eyelids fluttered, and she stirred, looking up at him with a confused, dreamy smile.

“I fainted?” she murmured.

“You did,” he said, brushing her hair from her face.

Liang Meijuan blushed. “That’s never happened to me before.” She pushed herself up, then leaned down to take his cock in her mouth again, cleaning it with gentle, tender licks. When she was satisfied, she lay down beside him, resting her head on his chest.

They lay in silence for a while, the only sound their slowing breaths. The clock on the nightstand showed that two hours had passed since they first started.

“Yao Yu,” she said softly, her fingers tracing circles on his skin. “I meant what I said. I want to be faithful to you. Only you.”

He tilted her chin up, meeting her eyes. “And I will continue to honor my godmother, in every way.”

She smiled, a serene, satisfied expression. “Good. Because I’m yours now. Whatever you need, whoever you want next… I’ll help you.”

He kissed her forehead. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

Liang Meijuan nestled closer, her body molding against his. The warmth of their intertwined limbs and the lingering buzz of their shared climax lulled them into a deep, peaceful sleep. The room fell quiet, the only sound their steady breathing, as the night wrapped around them like a blanket.

The faint click of the front door lock echoed through the house, and Liang Meijuan’s eyes snapped open. She lay still for a moment, her heart hammering against her ribs as she registered the muffled footsteps in the hallway. Beside her, Yao Yu stirred, his arm still draped across her waist. She pressed a finger to his lips, her other hand already fumbling for her bra on the bedside table.

“It’s Zhaojun,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “He’s early.”

Yao Yu’s eyes widened, but he remained motionless, his body tensing beneath the thin sheet. The footsteps grew closer, pausing at the bedroom door. A soft knock came, followed by Chen Zhaojun’s gruff voice.

“Meijuan? You in there?”

Liang Meijuan’s fingers stumbled over the clasp of her bra. She forced calm into her voice. “Yes, I’m here. Just resting. Did you finish your chess game already?”

She yanked a loose housecoat from the chair, wrapping it around her shoulders as she stood. Her legs felt shaky, and a warm trickle of semen traced down her inner thigh. She ignored it, her mind racing.

“Lost early,” Chen Zhaojun said through the door. “Old Wang had to go pick up his grandson. I thought I’d come home and watch some TV.” He rattled the doorknob. “Why is it locked?”

“I locked it because the massage was so relaxing,” Liang Meijuan said, her voice sweet and measured. “I fell asleep afterward. Give me a second.”

She shot a glance at Yao Yu, who had pulled the sheet up to his chin and closed his eyes, feigning deep sleep. His breathing was slow and even, his face slack. She smoothed her hair with a trembling hand and unlocked the door, cracking it open just enough to show her face.

Chen Zhaojun stood in the hallway, his reading glasses perched on his nose, a newspaper tucked under his arm. He peered past her into the room, his gaze settling on the figure on the bed. “Who’s that?”

“Yao Yu,” Liang Meijuan said, stepping into the hallway and pulling the door mostly shut behind her. “He came by to help with some heavy lifting. I was giving him a massage for his shoulder—he’s been so good about helping us. I must have dozed off myself.”

Chen Zhaojun frowned, his eyes narrowing. “A massage? You’re all disheveled.”

She looked down at herself. Her housecoat was twisted, her hair mussed, her cheeks flushed. She forced a laugh. “It was a long massage. I worked up a sweat. You know how it is.”

He leaned closer, his nostrils flaring. “What’s that smell? It’s… strange.”

Liang Meijuan’s heart lurched. The acrid scent of sex still clung to the air, to her skin. She thought quickly. “Oh, that’s the essential oil I used. Lavender and sandalwood. Very relaxing. Your son bought it for me last month.”

Chen Zhaojun grunted, unconvinced. “It smells more like bleach.”

“You’re just not used to it,” she said, taking his arm and steering him toward the living room. “Come, sit down. I’ll make you some tea. Are you hungry? I can start dinner early.”

He resisted for a moment, glancing back at the bedroom door. “Is he still sleeping?”

“Let him rest,” she said, her voice light. “He’s young, works hard. It’s good to sleep when you can.”

Chen Zhaojun allowed himself to be led to the sofa, but his eyes lingered on her with a flicker of suspicion. She busied herself in the kitchen, filling the kettle with water, her hands still unsteady. The semen between her legs had cooled, and she could feel it trickling down, soaking the crotch of her panties. She pressed her thighs together, but the sensation only intensified.

As the kettle began to boil, she bent over the sink, pretending to rinse the teacups. With her back to the living room, she slipped a hand under her housecoat and touched the wetness between her legs. Her fingers came away slick and warm. Without thinking, she brought them to her lips and tasted. The salt and musk filled her mouth, and she closed her eyes, a shiver of pleasure running through her.

“Meijuan? The water’s boiling.”

She snapped her eyes open, licked her fingers clean, and reached for the teapot. “Coming, dear.”

In the bedroom, Yao Yu lay still, his eyes still closed, but a small smile played at the corner of his mouth. He had heard everything—the lie about the essential oil, the fumbled excuse about falling asleep. The risk had been high, but it only made the game more exciting. Liang Meijuan would be more careful now, more inventive. And that would make her all the more devoted.

He listened to the clatter of cups from the kitchen, the low murmur of Chen Zhaojun’s voice complaining about his lost chess game. The house settled into its evening rhythm, and Yao Yu allowed himself to relax. The danger had passed, but he knew it would not be the last. For now, he would wait, and in the dark of night, Liang Meijuan would come to him again.

The dining room was filled with the clatter of chopsticks and the hum of the evening news playing from the living room TV. Yao Yu sat across from Chen Zhaojun, who was absorbed in recounting a chess game he’d won earlier that afternoon. Liang Meijuan sat beside Yao Yu, her body angled slightly toward him, her hand occasionally brushing his arm as she reached for dishes.

Under the table, the scene was entirely different.

Liang Meijuan had kicked off her slippers the moment they sat down. Her feet, clad in sheer nude stockings, crept along the floor until they found his ankle. She pressed her sole against his shin, sliding upward with deliberate slowness. Yao Yu kept his expression neutral, nodding at Chen Zhaojun’s chess story, but his breath caught when her stockinged toes reached his crotch and pressed firmly against his growing erection.

She didn’t stop. Her foot worked his shaft through his trousers, her big toe tracing the outline of his bulging length. She watched him from the corner of her eye, a faint smile playing on her lips as she took a sip of soup.

“—and that’s when I trapped his knight,” Chen Zhaojun said, setting down his chopsticks. “Yao Yu, you ever play?”

“A little,” Yao Yu managed, his voice steady despite his hard-on straining against Liang Meijuan’s persistent foot. She curled her toes around him, squeezing gently, then began a slow, rhythmic rub.

“Anyway,” Chen Zhaojun continued, oblivious, “you need to find work, son. You can’t just lounge around the house all day.”

Liang Meijuan’s foot stilled for a moment. Yao Yu cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking about that, Uncle Chen.”

“I have a suggestion,” Chen Zhaojun said, leaning back. “That girl Shen Youchu, she runs a milk tea shop in Jianye. Her place is downstairs from the law firm. Why don’t you go work there for a while? Get some experience, stay close to her.”

Yao Yu shook his head. “I was thinking of the law firm. Xiao Rongyu’s father is a deputy bureau chief. That connection could be useful. And she’s… well, she’s Hansheng’s fiancée.”

Liang Meijuan’s foot pressed harder against him, a silent signal. She set down her spoon and said, “I can introduce you to Xiao Rongyu’s firm. I’m old friends with her mother, Lyu Yuqing. They’d take you in as a paralegal or assistant.”

Chen Zhaojun frowned, stroking his chin. “Both sound good. Why not do both? Work at the law firm during the day, help at the milk tea shop in the evenings. Kill two birds with one stone.”

Yao Yu pretended to hesitate. “But that means I’d have to leave home, leave my godmother. I’d hardly see her.”

Liang Meijuan’s heart fluttered at his words. She felt a warm flush spread through her chest. She turned to her husband and said, “Then I’ll go with him. I’ve wanted to visit Jianye for a while. I can rent a small apartment there, take care of him.”

Chen Zhaojun blinked, surprised. “Go with him? Meijuan, that’s—”

“It’s settled,” she said firmly. “You’re fine here. I’ll just be a few weeks. Yao Yu needs someone to look after him.”

Yao Yu reached under the table and gently squeezed her thigh. She nearly shivered.

Chen Zhaojun shrugged. “Fine, fine. I’ll talk to the girls tomorrow. You two can leave the day after.”

Dinner continued. Yao Yu finished his rice, and Liang Meijuan cleared the plates. As she bent over to pick up a fallen chopstick, she didn’t straighten immediately. Instead, she lowered her head beneath the table, her hand finding Yao Yu’s zipper. She pulled out his erect cock, thick and veined, and wrapped her lips around the head. Her tongue swirled over the tip, tasting the pre-cum that had already beaded there.

Yao Yu gasped softly, gripping the edge of his chair. Chen Zhaojun had gone back to the living room, muttering about the news.

Liang Meijuan took him deeper, her throat opening to accommodate his length. She bobbed her head, her hand stroking his shaft, her eyes locked on his. Within minutes, she felt him pulse, and she swallowed every drop, her throat contracting as she milked him dry. When she pulled away, she licked her lips and smiled up at him, her stockinged foot still resting on his thigh.

“We have a plan,” she whispered. “And I’ll make sure you get everything you want.”