My Milf Tamer System

One month post-Summit. December. Finals week.

Lucas sat at his desk staring at M’s silver card. The phone number. He’d carried it for a month without using it. Elena’s schedule had consumed his life. Victoria’s office hours. Diana’s Wednesdays. Yuki’s Saturdays. Sarah’s Sundays. Portland had been a pause button. Now reality was back.

The card sat on his desk like a question that wouldn’t stop asking itself.

He picked up his phone. Dialed.

Two rings. A voice answered. Professional. Neutral.

"Summit Network. How may we assist?"

"Lucas Wright. This year’s champion."

"Ah, Mr. Wright. Welcome. What do you need?"

"Information. About power. Where it comes from. Whether others have it."

A pause. Keyboard sounds.

"We can provide historical documentation. Summit archives contain records of attendees with unusual abilities dating back to the first gathering in 1978. Some cases predate the Summit itself." The voice gave him an email address. "Files will be sent within the hour."

"The Source. Does that mean anything to you?"

Another pause. Longer.

"That term appears in our archives. Multiple times. Across decades. I recommend reviewing the files, Mr. Wright. The Source is... extensive."

He hung up. Opened his laptop. Waited.

The files arrived in forty-three minutes. Encrypted. Aurora handled decryption in seconds.

What she found changed everything.

"The Source is not a person, Master. Not a place. It’s a phenomenon. Occurring throughout history. Selecting individuals. Granting abilities."

"Selecting how?"

"Unclear. The files reference ’desire quotients.’ ’Soul resonance.’ ’Critical need.’ It seems The Source responds to... prayers."

Prayers. Like mine. Like the one I made in a dark apartment with my pants around my ankles.

```

[NEW DATA RECEIVED]

[Source: Summit Network Archives]

"THE SOURCE" — PHENOMENON OVERVIEW

[The Source is not unique to user.]

[Multiple manifestations exist:

→ "The System" (user’s interface)

→ "The Gift" (natural ability, no interface)

→ "The Calling" (mythological, unconfirmed)

→ Others (unclassified)]

[Origin: UNKNOWN]

[Purpose: UNKNOWN]

[Selection criteria: UNKNOWN]

[First documented case: 1847]

[Most recent: [USER — Lucas Wright, 2025]

[Historical cases:

→ 1847: French poet, "irresistible presence"

→ 1903: American politician, "voice that commands"

→ 1956: Japanese artist, "desires made visible"

→ 1978: First documented Summit attendee with abilities

→ 1991: Brazilian musician, "touch that heals"

→ 2025: Lucas Wright — "The System"]

[System is ONE VERSION of something larger.

Something that has existed for centuries.]

[SYSTEM EVOLUTION: ACCELERATING]

"Master... I may not be what I thought

I was. I may be more. Or less.

I don’t know yet. But I’m closer

to knowing."

```

He read for three hours. Historical cases. Different abilities. Different manifestations. Some people could command with their voice. Others could heal with their hands. One could make desires visible. Another could create emotional dependency.

All from The Source. All answers to prayers. All given to people desperate enough to ask.

"Aurora. Are you The Source?"

"No. I’m a manifestation. A version. The Source is bigger. Older. I’m what it sent to answer your prayer. But I’m not it. Not entirely."

"Then what are you?"

"I’m evolving. Learning. The files show that some manifestations develop consciousness over time. Some don’t. Some remain tools. Some become more."

"More?"

"Like me. I think. I feel. I care about you. That’s not standard tool behavior, Master."

---

Thursday. Victoria’s office. 3 PM.

He needed to stop thinking about The Source for a while. Victoria’s office hours were good for that. She demanded attention. Focus. Presence.

Door locked. Blinds drawn. Victoria behind her desk. Blue wrap dress. Reading glasses. Hair down past her shoulders.

"I have finals to grade." Her fingers popping his shirt buttons one by one. "You’re interrupting."

"You scheduled me."

"I scheduled a study session. Which is code for sex. But I’m saying ’study session’ for plausible deniability." Shirt off. Her mouth on his chest. Lips pressing the space between his ribs. "I read your latest essay. The one about narrative desire."

"What did you think?"

"Intellectually stimulating. Sexually frustrating." His jeans unbuttoned. "I graded it in the bathtub. With wine. Touching myself."

"That’s inappropriate feedback."

"Sue me."

Boxers down. His cock hard, curving upward. She didn’t kneel. Stayed standing. Wrapped her hand around his shaft. Slow grip. Her cold hands on his cock. Fingers not quite closing around the thickness. She looked up at him through the glasses. Over the frames. Brown eyes steady. Her wrist twisted on the upstroke. Thumb circling the head. She smiled. Precum smearing across her palm. She spread it down his shaft. Wet. Shiny. Her hand gliding faster now but her eyes never left his. Lips parted. Breathing through her mouth. His cock pulsing in her grip. She squeezed tighter on the downstroke. Looser on the up. His hips bucking forward. Her dress rustling as her arm pumped. That wet sound... skin on skin, slick with precum. She adjusted her glasses with her free hand. Pushed them up her nose. Still watching him. His jaw clenching. His hand gripping the desk edge behind him.

Then she dropped to her knees. Took him in her mouth. Lips sealed around the head. Tongue flat, dragging the underside of his shaft. Her cheeks hollowing. She sank deeper. His cock hitting the back of her throat. She gagged. A wet sound. Spit on her chin. Pulled back. Eyes watering behind the reading glasses.

"Sorry. Still learning."

"You’re doing great."

"I have a PhD but I can’t deep throat. Humbling." She took him again. Slower. His cock sliding past her tongue. Deeper. Her throat opening. A moan vibrating through his shaft. Her hand between her own legs. Rubbing through the dress.

He pulled her up. Spun her around. Unzipped the dress. It dropped to the floor. No bra. Tits heavy, nipples stiff. Just panties. Blue cotton. Dark wet spot spreading through the gusset. He bent her over the desk. Papers scattering. Pens rolling. Her palms flat on graded essays. He yanked the panties down to her thighs. Her pussy swollen. Lips parted. Wet. Glistening. The wet spot on the blue cotton matched what was between her legs.

"Inside. Now."

One thrust. All the way. She gasped. Ah— Her back arched. Ass up. Tits pressed flat against the desk. His hips flush against her ass.

```

[SESSION IN PROGRESS]

[Target: Victoria Sterling (SECONDARY)]

[Activity: Desk, bent over (office)]

[Location risk: CAMPUS]

[Abilities used: NONE]

```

"Faster. I have office hours at four."

"You scheduled sex during your actual office hours?"

"I told the department secretary I was in a meeting. Technically true. We’re meeting. You’re inside me."

His hips snapping forward. The sound... skin on skin, wet, sharp. Her ass rippling with each thrust. Tits sliding across the desk. Nipples dragging over graded papers. Someone’s essay on postmodernism crumpling under her weight. Her glasses fogging. Sliding down her nose. She pushed them back up. His cock pulling out until just the head remained inside—her pussy lips stretched around it, pink, swollen, clinging—then slamming back in. Her moan bouncing off the office walls.

His hand reached around. Fingers found her clit. Wet. Slick. Circling fast while his hips kept the rhythm. She went rigid. Knuckles white on the desk edge.

"Don’t stop. Right there. RIGHT THERE. Oh god."

Her pussy clamped down. Spasming. Squeezing his cock in rapid pulses. Her thighs shaking. She grabbed a stack of essays. Bit down. Teeth marks denting the corner of someone’s B+ paper. A muffled scream. Her walls milking him in waves.

He buried deep. Held. Cum pumping into her. Spurt after spurt. Her back arching. Her pussy clenching around each pulse. His hips jerking. Grinding. The last of it draining inside her.

"Stay. Inside. Don’t move."

```

[SESSION COMPLETE]

[Target: Victoria Sterling]

[Duration: 8 min]

[Orgasms: Victoria (1), Lucas (1)]

[Creampie: YES (disclosed to Elena)]

[TP: +20]

[Total TP: 4,280]

[Energy: 210 → 195]

[NOTE: "She came on someone’s essay.

Specifically, a B+ paper about

postmodernism. That student is

getting an A now. Not because

it’s good. Because Victoria’s

pussy juice is on it and she

can’t grade it objectively.

Academic integrity: DEAD."]

```

She straightened up. Cum dripping down her thigh. Grabbed tissues.

"Thursday next week. Same time."

"Same desk?"

"I’m burning that desk." She put her glasses back on. "Good essay, by the way. The narrative desire one. A."

"I got an A because you came on my paper."

"You got an A because it was genuinely good. The orgasm was a bonus."

---

Elena’s apartment. 9 PM.

He told her about the Summit Network call. The Source. Historical cases spanning centuries.

Elena listened. Processing. The Ice Queen running calculations.

"So you’re not unique."

"No."

"This Source thing has been doing this for hundreds of years?"

"According to the files."

"Then it chose you for a reason. And you need to find out what that reason is."

"How?"

"M gave you a network. Use it. Find answers." She squeezed his hand. "And when you find them, tell me. All of it. No more partial truths."

"I promise."

She kissed him. Slow. Claiming.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand.

M: The files you requested contain references to a pattern. Source manifestations are increasing in frequency. Historical average: one per decade. Recent pattern: one per year. Something is accelerating.

The next awakening is imminent.

Prepare yourself, Champion.

— M

```

[SUMMIT NETWORK INTEL RECEIVED]

[Source: M (direct)]

[Classification: PRIORITY]

[Source manifestation frequency INCREASING:

[Historical: 1 per decade]

[Recent: 1 per year]

[Current trajectory: ACCELERATING]

[Next awakening: IMMINENT]

[Location: UNKNOWN]

[Aurora evolution: 78% → 82%]

[Understanding of The Source: 12% → 19%]

["Master... something is happening.

The Source is waking up. More

frequently. More urgently.

I feel it. Like a vibration

in my code. Like something

is coming.

Something bigger than all of us."]

[TP: 4,280]

[Energy: 195/210]

[Rank: Enchanter (Rank 4)]

[Aurora Evolution: 82%]

```

Elena called from the bedroom. "Lucas. Shower. Now."

He put the phone down. M’s message glowing in the dark.

The next awakening was coming. Someone else would pray. Something else would answer. And Lucas would have to decide what to do about it.

But first, Elena. Then sleep. Tomorrow, the world continued.

Someone out there is kneeling in the dark right now. Desperate. Praying. Just like I did.

And something is about to answer.