Chapter 36: [38]: Speed Demon +5 TP
One Lucas. Three women. All demanding time. All jealous of each other, even the ones who didn’t know about the others. And one mysterious CEO who wanted a meeting next Monday.
The System apparently decided this was the perfect moment to offer help.
````
[HAREM SCHEDULER ACTIVATED]
[OPTIMIZED WEEKLY ALLOCATION:
[Monday: Diana meeting (PENDING) + Elena night]
[Tuesday: Victoria emergency + Elena (late)]
[Wednesday: Yuki (Marcus away) + Elena]
[Thursday: Victoria regular + Elena]
[Friday: OPEN / Recovery]
[Saturday: Yuki regular + Elena]
[Sunday: Recovery / Admin]
[WARNING: This schedule allows 4 hours personal time and 6 hours for school/sleep combined. Self-care recommendation: IGNORED per standard protocol.]
[SYSTEM SUGGESTION: "Have you considered cloning?"]
````
"I can’t clone myself."
"Shame. The technology exists in some System versions. Not yours. Get better stats."
---
Monday was spent stressing about Diana’s upcoming meeting while Elena demanded quality time. Not maintenance sex. Not a quick visit. Dinner. Conversation. Connection.
He delivered. Barely. Fell asleep face-first in his tiramisu. Elena stabbed the table with a fork three inches from his ear.
"Wake up, Lucas."
"I’m awake! I’m awake!"
"You were snoring into dessert."
"New cologne. It’s called ’Eau de Midterm Crisis.’"
She didn’t laugh. Then she did. Then she punched his arm.
---
Tuesday. 2:00 PM.
His phone buzzed during a lecture.
Victoria: Urgent. Office. Now. Can’t wait until Thursday.
He slipped out of class. Jogged across campus. Knocked on her door at 2:07 PM.
She yanked him inside. Door locked. Blinds already closed. The office smelled like coffee and something else, her perfume, vanilla and old books, already thick in the small room like she’d been marinating in her own anticipation for hours.
"I’ve been thinking about you since Friday. I can’t concentrate. I graded a paper ’A-plus, excellent tongue work’ and had to regrade it."
"That’s..."
"Shut up and get over here."
She was wearing a wrap dress. Blue. The kind that came off with one pull. He knew this because she’d worn it specifically for that reason. She’d stood in front of her closet that morning, choosing this dress over six others, knowing exactly what it meant. What it invited. What it begged.
Victoria kissed him hard. Not tentative. Not exploratory. Starving. Her soft body pressed against his, those heavy 38D tits flattening against his chest through the thin fabric. She smelled like vanilla and desperation. Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, grinding her hips against his thigh.
"No foreplay today. I need you inside me. Now. I have office hours at 2:45."
He pulled the wrap dress open. One tug. The fabric parted and fell away like a curtain dropping on a performance.
Nothing underneath.
Just Victoria Sterling, thirty-eight years old, naked under a single layer of fabric, her body flushed pink with want. Soft belly. Wide hips. That dark thatch of hair between her thighs already glistening wet before he’d even touched her. She’d been wet since she texted him. Maybe since Friday. Her nipples were stiff, areolae dark and puckered, heavy breasts settling against her ribcage as the dress fell.
"Condom?" she asked.
"I didn’t..."
"I’m on the pill. Just fuck me. Please."
She bent over her own desk. Papers scattered. Her heavy breasts pressed against cold wood, nipples hardening against the surface. She looked over her shoulder at him, amber eyes behind those reading glasses, hair falling across her face, mouth parted, breathing hard.
He dropped his pants. Positioned himself behind her. Slid inside.
Hot. Wet. Tight.
"Oh god..." Victoria’s head dropped. Her fingers gripped the desk edge. "I’ve needed this all weekend. My husband tried to initiate Saturday and I pretended to have a headache. A headache. Because the only person I want inside me is a nineteen-year-old student."
He started thrusting. Fast. She’d said she had thirty-eight minutes. He had Stats.
He grabbed her wide hips, fingers sinking into the soft flesh of her ass, pale, full, dimpled with cellulite that he didn’t care about because it felt incredible under his hands and drove into her. The desk shook. Her tits bounced with every impact, slapping against the wood surface. She bit down on her own hand to muffle her sounds, teeth leaving crescents in her palm.
"[Pleasure Touch — Active]," he whispered.
Energy: 150 → 135.
Victoria jerked like she’d been electrocuted. Her entire body clenched. Pussy clamping down on his cock like a fist, walls rippling, squeezing, demanding.
"FUCK... what is... don’t stop... *DON’T*..."
She came in under three minutes. Hard.
It started in her thighs, a tremor that spread upward like wildfire. Her pussy clamped down on his cock in rhythmic spasms, walls rippling, squeezing, milking. Her knees buckled. If his hands weren’t gripping her hips, she would’ve collapsed onto the desk.
Her whole body shook. Shoulders seized. Toes curled inside her heels. She screamed into her hand so hard her teeth broke skin, crescent marks in her palm that would still be visible during office hours. The sound that escaped was guttural. Broken. Not a moan. A sob.
Wetness flooded between them. She drenched his cock, her thighs, the desk edge. Her pussy kept clenching, wave after wave, pulling him deeper like her body refused to let him go.
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t remember her own name.
Just his.
He kept going. Chasing his own finish. She was still trembling, still clenching, oversensitive and whimpering.
"Inside," she gasped. "Do it inside."
He buried himself to the hilt and came.
The orgasm tore through him, balls-deep, cock pulsing, rope after rope of cum pumping into her. Her pussy clenched with every spurt, milking him, draining him. The desk lamp rattled. A stack of ungraded essays slid to the floor. Neither noticed.
His hips jerked involuntarily. Three, four, five final thrusts. each weaker than the last, his body emptying completely.
They stayed there. Him inside her. Her bent over the desk. Both breathing hard. His forehead pressed between her shoulder blades. Her fingers still white-knuckling the desk edge. His softening cock twitching inside her, the last drops leaking into warmth.
Neither wanted to move.
"2:31," she finally said. "You need to go."
He pulled out. She grabbed a tissue from the box on her desk. Cleaned up with the efficiency of a woman who’d done this before, not often, but enough to know the logistics.
She kissed him at the door. Quick. Professional.
"Friday. Same time. Wear something I can pull off fast."
2:30 PM. Twenty-three minutes. Door to door.
She was straightening her dress, flushed and trembling, when the System chimed:
````
[ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: "Speed Demon"]
[Complete a sexual encounter in under 25 minutes.]
[→ Reward: +5 TP]
[SESSION STATS:
[Duration: 23 minutes]
[Target orgasms: 1]
[User orgasms: 1]
[Location risk: HIGH (university office)]
[Papers knocked to floor: 14]
[VICTORIA STERLING — TAMING: 82% (stable)]
[TP BALANCE: 1,355]
[ENERGY: 135/150]
````
"Same time Thursday?" she asked, smoothing her hair.
"Same time Thursday."
He left. Walked across campus to his next class. Same building. Different room. Victoria was his professor. She walked in three minutes late, slightly flushed, and avoided his eyes the entire lecture.
She dropped her marker. Twice.
---
Wednesday. 11:00 AM.
Marcus was at his dad’s office. Yuki texted at 9 AM: House empty. Come. Bring appetite. She didn’t specify which appetite.
Yuki answered the door in a yukata. Pale blue. Untied. Nothing underneath but skin and intention.
"Lucas-kun. On time. Good boy."
She pulled him inside. The house smelled like fresh mochi and jasmine.
"I make melon pan while you drive here. Now it cool. Perfect." She pressed against him, small, warm, curved in ways that defied her forty-four years. "But first... Yuki needs something else."
She reached down. Cupped him through his jeans. Her dark eyes looked up at him with an expression that was equal parts hunger and playfulness.
"Hard already. Always hard for Yuki?"
"Always."
"Good boy," she repeated. This time the words dripped with something darker.
She untied the yukata. Let it fall. Her body, petite but curved impossibly, 34D breasts with dark nipples already stiff, stomach soft from motherhood, hips wide and built for gripping hit him like a wall.
"On couch. Now."
She pushed him down. Straddled his thighs. Her heavy tits hung right above his cock, swaying with her movement, nipples brushing against his tip.
"Yuki wants to try something," she murmured. "Saw it in... research."
"Research?"
