Chapter 57: Cassian’s Penis have Too Much HP (R-18)
Almost unconsciously, Zerena kissed him the same way she had during the past several days. Technically, she didn’t have to anymore. The earlier kissing task had already disappeared from the system.
Yet, without thinking about it, she parted her lips and drew him into another deep kiss, her mouth opening naturally as their tongues met once again.
Max blinked in surprise. For a brief moment, he hadn’t expected her to give in so easily. Then he remembered.
The guilty act.
It had worked far better than he’d hoped.
For all her coldness, all the years she’d spent keeping people at arm’s length, Zerena had never been cruel simply for the sake of being cruel. Beneath the sharp tongue and constant irritation, there was still enough conscience left that genuine guilt could find its way inside.
So she kissed him.
Properly.
Without the reluctant stiffness she’d worn during those first awkward days.
Meanwhile, unlike her occupied hands, Max’s own had nothing to do.
Naturally, they found her breasts.
His palms squeezed them with familiar confidence, kneading the soft weight as though the movement had long since become second nature.
A muffled sound escaped Zerena’s throat, swallowed almost immediately by the kiss.
Max finally pulled back just enough for a breath.
"...It’s working," he murmured, unable to hide the small grin tugging at his lips.
He looked at her for a second.
Her lips were slightly swollen now, glistening from the long kiss, her fair skin carrying a faint flush that stood out even more against her otherwise composed expression.
Determined to finish as quickly as possible, Zerena kept moving her hand.
The faster this ended, the better. At least, that was what she kept telling herself. The problem was...
The longer she continued, the stranger her own body became.
Her heartbeat refused to slow, instead pounding harder against her ribs with every passing minute. The warm scent gradually filling the room seemed impossible to ignore now, each breath making her mouth feel inexplicably drier instead of helping.
More annoyingly...
Her attention kept drifting downward.
No matter how many times she told herself to stop looking, her eyes kept returning to the same place, her mind quietly registering things she’d much rather not have been paying attention to.
The firmness, The warmth beneath the black lace.
Even the shape.
Every time she caught herself staring, she immediately forced her attention somewhere else.
The kiss helped.
Keeping her lips locked with his occupied enough of her thoughts that she no longer had to deal with the same intrusive images repeatedly forcing their way into her mind.
It wasn’t exactly an improvement.
Just... the lesser of two embarrassments.
"...Haa..."
A quiet breath escaped between them as they finally pulled apart for a moment.
Both of them were breathing noticeably harder now.
A thin sheen of sweat clung to their skin, making them look less like two people quietly completing another ridiculous system task...
And more like participants in an unusually exhausting endurance event.
Granted...
Most endurance events didn’t involve kissing someone senseless while desperately trying to make them orgasm as quickly as possible.
The heavy breathing wasn’t really from exhaustion.
Not entirely.
Though, to be fair, Zerena’s hand was beginning to protest.
She’d been steadily stroking his penis with her black lace panties for nearly five minutes now. By this point, the fabric had become thoroughly damp, soaking up the steady stream of precum that refused to stop leaking no matter how many times she wondered how one person could possibly produce that much.
Yet somehow...
He still hadn’t orgasmed.
Which left her with an increasingly sore wrist and a growing suspicion that the task was taking far longer than it had any right to.
Nor was her hand the only thing working.
All the while, she continued kissing him, her lips parting to meet his again and again as their tongues tangled together. Whenever they broke apart for a breath, her mouth wandered instinctively, brushing along his jaw before lingering at his neck, occasionally drawing the skin gently between her lips or teasing the edge of his ear for a moment before returning to his mouth once more.
By now, the two of them were breathing heavily against each other’s lips.
Max, however, was struggling for a very different reason. He wasn’t trying to finish. He was trying not to. The last thing he wanted was for this to end too soon.
Not while Zerena was still sitting naked in front of him. Not while he could still kiss her. His eyes kept wandering over her body whenever their lips briefly separated. There was just one frustration he couldn’t quite ignore.
He still hadn’t seen what lay beneath the dark pubes between her thighs. The thought kept returning no matter how many times he pushed it aside.
More than anything, he wanted to reach out, brush his fingers through the dark hair, and feel it for himself.
As much as Max wished things could go further...
They wouldn’t.
Not unless he forced himself upon her and that had never been an option. He wasn’t brave enough for something like that.
"Just... orgasm already," Zerena muttered.
She finally pulled her hand away for a moment, flexing her sore fingers before giving her wrist a small shake.
"My hand’s starting to get tired..."
"I-I’m trying..." Max replied between heavy breaths.
Even then, his hands refused to stay still.
They remained on her chest, absentmindedly kneading her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples often enough that Zerena shot him an increasingly irritated look.
"You’re not making it any easier," she muttered, glaring at him.
"...Don’t tell me you can’t orgasm because I’m old," Zerena asked.
For the first time since the conversation had begun, she sounded faintly offended. The thought had already crossed her mind more than once. She knew Max was a hopeless pervert.
She’d accepted that much days ago. But that didn’t change another, far less flattering fact. She was an older woman.
No man around Max’s age would’ve chosen someone like her if he’d had countless other options. The only reason he was here at all was because the system had never given him anyone else.
Max immediately shook his head.
Far too quickly.
Then he froze.
A tiny part of his brain abruptly realized he’d missed what was probably the easiest opportunity he’d ever been handed.
He’d seen scenes like this countless times in the sort of adult games and novels he’d wasted far too many hours on back on Earth. The younger protagonist would throw out some outrageous comment about an older woman’s age, call her a wrinkled old hag or something equally shameless—
And somehow...
Instead of getting punched in the face, it always made things even more heated.
Reality, however, had one rather significant flaw.
Reality involved Zerena.
Max took one look at her expression and wisely concluded that testing whether real life followed the same script sounded like an excellent way to discover whether an older woman could still slap someone hard enough to rotate their soul.
Unfortunately, his body had already answered for him. And it wasn’t lyingHe wasn’t struggling to orgasm because Zerena was older.
Quite the opposite. The real reason was that he wanted this to last a little longer. Admitting that, however...
Sounded like a remarkably effective way to get himself thrown out the nearest window.
"It’s... not like that," Max said.
"Then what is it?" Zerena demanded, a hint of irritation creeping into her voice. She kept her eyes fixed on his face.
Max, meanwhile, found it significantly easier to look somewhere else. More specifically, at his penis, still wrapped in her black lace panties.
"I can’t really help it..." he admitted between heavy breaths. "It... usually takes me longer to orgasm."
Zerena blinked.
For a moment, genuine surprise replaced the annoyance on her face. Before she could say anything, Max hurriedly added, "But I’m close."
His eyes drifted upward almost involuntarily, lingering for a moment on her bare chest before returning to her face.
"Just... a few more minutes."