Outside a modest house nestled in the quiet neighborhood of Hoshizakura, the soft click of heels against the pavement echoed as a mature woman approached the single-story home. Dressed in a crisp business suit, she exuded an air of quiet confidence, her posture straight, her mind still half-occupied with the remnants of a long day's work.
Reaching the door, she stepped inside and instinctively paused. Her sharp eyes drifted to the neatly arranged shoes by the entrance—except one pair was unfamiliar. A slight furrow formed between her brows, but the concern was fleeting. Yuki was practically an adult, responsible, and had always carried herself with modesty. There was no reason to dwell on it.
Shrugging off the thought, she moved further into the house, loosening the buttons on her blazer. But the moment she stepped into the living room, she stopped cold.
Two cups of tea had toppled over, their contents seeping into the carpet. Across from them, Yuki's school blazer lay crumpled on the floor. Her brows pinched together as her gaze swept over the couch—its cushions slightly displaced, as if someone had been sitting too close. Or shifting around.
A prickling sensation ran down her spine. The quiet certainty she had in her daughter's restraint wavered, unraveling thread by thread.
Her scowl deepened. Without a second thought, she turned sharply on her heel and strode toward Yuki's bedroom. Each step carried the weight of mounting suspicion, her hand tightening into a fist before she reached for the door.
With no hesitation, she pushed it open—hard.
The door banged against the wall. The scent of sweat and something heavier clung to the air. And there, in the dim light of the bedroom, her worst fears were confirmed.
Yuki froze mid-motion, her eyes widening in horror as she choked, coughing out droplets of semen repeatedly. The tension in the room snapped like a stretched thread, silence swallowing the chaos of the moment.
For the first time in years, her mother was utterly speechless. But the fire in her gaze said more than words ever could.
"Mom—"
"Quiet!" Her mother's voice cut through the thick air like a blade. "I thought I raised you better than this, Yuki! And you—boy—get a way from her!"
Yuki's mother stormed into the room, her glare sharp enough to cut steel. The weight of her presence bore down on both of them, suffocating, unyielding.
Yuki scrambled to cover herself, panic flashing in her eyes as she struggled to find the right words. "Mom, wait—"
"Wait?" Her mother's voice was ice, her lips curling in a mixture of fury and disappointment. "You expect me to wait after walking in on this?" Her eyes flicked to Oliver, who had gone rigid, his body tense, unsure whether to move or stay frozen like a man caught in the jaws of a beast.
Yuki's face burned with humiliation. She had never seen her mother like this—her usual calm, composed demeanor shattered in an instant.
Oliver swallowed hard. "Ma'am, I—"
"You what?" Her gaze snapped to him, drilling into his skull. "I don't want to hear a word from you."
Yuki's hands trembled as she clutched at the sheets. "Mom, please, let me explain."
"Explain?" Her mother let out a sharp breath, one hand pinching the bridge of her nose as she tried—failed—to steady herself. "Tell me, Yuki, what part of this exact situation do you think has an explanation that I'd want to hear?"
Yuki opened her mouth but no words came.
Her mother turned back to Oliver, her expression unreadable for a long, tense moment. Then, she took a step forward.
"Get. Out."
The command was quiet, but it wasn't directed at Oliver but her daughter as it carried the force of an iron decree.
Yuki hesitated. Her instincts screamed at him to comply, but a part of her—some stubborn, reckless part—didn't want to just leave her mom with Oliver like this.
"Now," she snapped, her patience wearing dangerously thin.
Yuki shot Oliver a desperate look, but there was no room for negotiation. With a quiet nod, she stood up from in between his legs and moved toward the door, feeling the weight of her mother's gaze on her back the entire way.
As she slipped past her, the air between her and Oliver was thick with unspoken warning.
The door shut behind Yuki with a quiet click.
Silence fell over the room.
Yuki's mother exhaled slowly, then turned to the boy her daughter had brought over, her expression no longer just furious—but deeply disappointed.
"How far have you gone with my daughter?" she asked, her voice low, yet each word carried the weight of years of unspoken authority. Her eyes were cold, unwavering. There was no hint of softness, only a fury that had been building beneath the surface and was now exploding outward.
"Not far, we've only kissed and gone as far as her giving me a blow job," Oliver said, his voice casual as he glanced at Yuki's mother, eyes lingering briefly on her form. Her black blazer hung open, revealing a white shirt that clung to her chest, as though it were straining against the curves beneath. His gaze slowly shifted downward, trailing along her abdomen, where the contours of her body were concealed by the tight skirt and the sleek black stockings that encased her legs.
Yuki's mother recoiled, disgust welling up inside her as Oliver shamelessly inspected her. The audacity of his gaze, the blatant disregard for decorum, made her stomach turn. His presence was unsettling, and despite the situation, a strange, involuntary sensation began to stir within her. She tried to push it away, but her eyes betrayed her, briefly drifting downward before she could stop them.
Oliver's cock, still covered in her daughter's saliva, stood tall and proud. Strangely, though, her body tingled with a kind of anticipation rather than revulsion as her pussy, which had not been touched in years, became a little wet.
The tension in the air, along with the rush of his energy, made her skin prickle, and she felt an unfamiliar warmth stirring deep inside. This left her both confused and disturbed.
Oliver's yang energy surged unchecked and flowed into her, flooding her body. His warm yang energy seeped into her meridians, heightening her sensitivity, stirring long-dormant desires she hadn't felt in years. It was an unsettling invasion, one she struggled to control as her body responded to the overwhelming force.
Her heart raced, and she could feel the flush creeping up her neck. Yuki's mother fought to steady herself, trying to regain control over the overwhelming sensations that coursed through her. She coughed into her hand, a vain attempt to dispel the heat building inside her, and forced her gaze upward, meeting Oliver's intense blue eyes. She willed herself not to let her eyes drop, not to acknowledge the unsettling presence of his body, but the pull was undeniable.
His eyes were dark with something she couldn't quite place, a deeper desire that seemed to linger in the air between them. She felt it like a tangible force, a jolt that shot through her chest, making her breath catch.
"Ah...?" The sound escaped her lips, almost a breathless question as Oliver's gaze held her captive, drawing her deeper into the tension between them.
Her heart pounded in her chest as the weight of his stare seemed to press down on her, intensifying the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions she struggled to manage. The warmth, the unsettling energy that coursed through her body—she couldn't escape it. It was like a storm, crashing relentlessly against the dam of her self-control.
She forced herself to breathe, slow and steady, trying to focus on anything other than the pull of his presence. But it was hard. His energy—his yang energy—had invaded her, overwhelming her senses. It wasn't just his gaze; it was a force, invisible yet all-consuming, making everything feel too intense, too alive.
Clenching her fists at her sides, she fought the strange, uncomfortable heat that surged through her body. Every instinct screamed at her to step back, to regain control, but her feet felt rooted to the spot.
Oliver's eyes, dark and intense, seemed to pierce through her, searching into the depths of her thoughts. There was a depth to them that unsettled her, a hidden hunger she couldn't quite interpret. It made her skin prickle, her breath catch in her throat.
For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with tension. She could feel the dissonance inside her—the stark contrast between what she should feel and what was happening in her body. This was wrong. It had to be. Yet, the heat flooding her veins, the rush of blood through her, told a different story, one that frightened her more than anything.
"Stop," she whispered to herself, barely audible, as if the words could anchor her to reality. She broke her gaze from his, forcing herself to take a step back. Her chest heaved as she struggled to steady her breathing.
Oliver, still silent, didn't move. His presence was palpable, suffocating, and yet, she couldn't ignore it. She couldn't escape it.
'Get control of yourself,' she thought desperately, but the command barely quieted the storm inside her.
Yuki's mother took a slow, steadying breath. She needed to regain control—of the conversation, of the situation, of herself. Yet, the warmth in her veins, the way her body betrayed her with its heightened awareness, made it increasingly difficult to focus.
She folded her arms, forcing her expression into something sharp, authoritative. "How long have you been seeing my daughter?" she asked, her voice firm despite the unshakable heat beneath her skin.
Oliver met her gaze and lied without hesitation. "A little while now. Around five weeks." His tone was calm, unfazed, and something about that irritated her.
She narrowed her eyes. "And what exactly do you see in her?"
Oliver tilted his head slightly, considering his answer. "She's kind. Stubborn, too. She likes to act tough, but I can tell when she's nervous. It's cute."
Something tightened in Yuki's mother's chest. The way he spoke—it wasn't some rehearsed answer or shallow flattery. He truly saw Yuki, understood her in ways that unsettled her as a mother.
The warmth in her body surged again, her insides churning. She swallowed. She shouldn't be feeling this way, but her mouth moved before she could stop it. "Is that all you like about her?"
Oliver smirked slightly, as if sensing the shift in her tone. He continued to channel his yang energy into her, pushing his Qi deeper, suppressing her emotional defenses. "Well, she's beautiful, too. Smart... though she can be a little reckless. And immature~"
His voice was smooth, confident. The way he spoke, the way his eyes lingered on her, made her pulse quicken.
She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "And what about you?" she asked, almost absently, as if steering the conversation away would help ground her. "Do you have any hobbies? Sports?"
Oliver stood up from Yuki's bed and casually placed his dick back in his boxers, as he wasn't much of a fan of exhibitionism. "I like kendo, basic calligraphy, and basketball's kinda fun, too."
"Kendo?" Her voice came out softer than she intended. "So you're strong, then?"
Oliver chuckled. "I'd like to think so."
Her fingers twitched at her sides. Why was she still asking him questions? Why did she feel this strange pull toward him, as if her own words were betraying her intent?
"And what do you like in a woman?" she asked, her voice lower now, almost testing.
Oliver's smile shifted, his blue eyes darkening slightly with something unreadable. He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. His body pressed against hers, and the heat between them surged.
"Confidence," he said calmly. "A woman who knows what she wants."
Her stomach flipped.
The air between them had shifted. The authority she had once held in this conversation was slipping, melting under the warmth spreading through her body. Her lips parted slightly before she caught herself, blinking rapidly.
Her mind scrambled for something to latch onto, something to break this spiral. "How old are you?" she asked, the question coming out abruptly.
Oliver didn't hesitate. "Eighteen," he said, lowering one of his hands onto her waist, his touch lingering on her skin, as his yang energy continued to circulate through her body.
A pause.
Her heart skipped. Her breath hitched.
"That's a little too old for my daughter," she murmured, the words leaving her lips softer than they should have been.
"Then maybe I need to be with a real woman instead~" Oliver responded right away, his gaze steady and confident, without a hint of hesitation.
Her hands curled slightly. Oliver's body pressing against hers, the heat between them was unbearable now, her body betraying her in ways she didn't want to acknowledge.
She swallowed hard, and as her hand moved up his unbuttoned shirt, her breath brushing against his skin, she murmured words that could never be taken back.
"Maybe you do need a real woman~"
And without thinking, she leaned in and kissed him.
Mmm~
Oliver's yang energy surged into her through the kiss, his Qi amplifying the sensations coursing through her. Her mouth, her body, everything felt heightened, more sensitive.