Miss Silvia stood, smoothing her skirt, the fabric clinging to her plush thighs, as she adjusted her glasses, still slightly fogged from the ritual’s heat.
Her cheeks held a light flush, but her expression settled into composed professionalism, her auburn hair catching the morning sunlight streaming through the window.
"I’ll practice the Light’s guidance at home," she said, clutching her handbag, her voice steady but soft, betraying a lingering vulnerability.
Lor nodded, leaning back on his bed, his hazel eyes meeting hers, a flicker of arousal still simmering in his chest.
"Alright. If you ever need more help, feel free to come back, Miss Silvia." His tone was respectful, but a playful edge crept in, his cock twitching faintly at the memory of her breasts wrapped around him, cum streaking her face.
She paused at the door, glancing sidelong, her glasses glinting.
"Lor... I am your teacher, you know." Her voice was firm, but her cheeks deepened to rose.
"Uh... right," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, his grin sheepish but warm. "So... if you don’t want—"
"Don’t misunderstand me," she interrupted, lifting a hand, her blouse shifting to hint at the curve of her breasts. "It’s just... it’d be weird if I kept visiting your house all the time." Her tone softened, a flicker of warmth in her eyes.
Lor shrugged, voice dipping lower, casual but suggestive.
"Whenever you need me... you know where to find me." His hazel eyes held hers.
Silvia hesitated, her breath catching, cheeks flushing deeper.
She nodded, then opened the door, stepping out with a soft clack of her heels.
Downstairs, her polite farewells to Mira echoed faintly, followed by the front door’s click as it shut.
Lor exhaled hard, his body heavy with the weight of her absence.
He grabbed the two soaked towels, their damp fabric heavy with oil and cum, and ran a quick burst of drying and cleansing mana through them, the air shimmering faintly as every sticky trace vanished.
He cast a cloth spell, mopping the floor clean, the wooden floor gleaming as if untouched.
No evidence.
No scent.
Nothing for his mother to suspect.
Just as he tossed the last rag aside, Mira stepped into his room, closing the door with a soft click, her nightdress swaying, a playful smirk on her lips.
"So," she said, lifting an eyebrow, "what did Miss Silvia want?"
Lor blinked, flopping back on his bed, arms behind his head, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement.
"Oh, she just came to... motivate me," he said, voice light, a sly edge hinting at the ritual’s heat, Silvia’s breasts still vivid in his mind.
Mira snorted, her laugh bright.
"Hah! She’s such a cliché teacher. If motivation worked on you, you’d be in Class A by now." Her eyes twinkled, teasing, oblivious to the forbidden act that had unfolded.
They both chuckled, the room warm with morning sunlight, the air light with their shared humor.
Lor stretched, his body still tingling, the memory of Silvia’s slick breasts and Kiara’s blazing defiance stoking a quiet fire.
"So what’s for lunch?" he asked, grin widening.
Mira’s jaw dropped, her laugh turning incredulous. "You just had breakfast! How are you hungry so fast?"
Lor was speechless with a grin.
____________
The sun hung lower over the town as Lor strolled through the cobbled streets, grocery list crumpled in his hand, the hum of late-morning activity buzzing around him.
Mira had shoved the list into his palm, practically kicking him out before noon.
"Don’t forget the carrots!" she’d said, wagging a finger. "And no buying junk again, or no dinner!"
He chuckled, but Mira didn’t know he’d hit the market’s liveliest street today.
The market pulsed with life—hawkers shouting deals, kids darting between stalls with candy-stained fingers, the air thick with grilled meat, fresh bread, and roasted nuts.
Lor kept his head low, his pace casual, blending in as a town boy.
His hazel eyes darted left and right, soaking in the chaos, a sly grin tugging at his lips.
He passed a stall piled with massive green melons, the fruit dwarfed by the merchant woman’s generous chest, her tight top straining as she leaned over, cleavage nearly brushing the produce.
Her full breasts bounced with each gesture, drawing flushed customers, her tanned skin glistening in the sun.
Melons selling melons, Lor thought, biting his lip to stifle a laugh, his cock twitching faintly at the sight.
Two stalls down, a snack vendor barked about fried skewers, but the real attraction was his wife, lounging beside the counter with a book she clearly wasn’t reading.
Her blouse hung open just enough to frame a deep, sun-kissed valley of cleavage.
Full lips pouted in practiced boredom, and the faint suggestion of nipples pressed through thin fabric.
She didn’t flinch when eyes wandered past the menu.
A marketing tactic, Lor thought with a grin but he had to buy a skewer now for obvious reasons.
And so he did, handing over coins for a skewer he barely tasted.
His gaze drifted back to her curves, appreciation lingering.
This world is amazing, he mused, silently ticking off his mental list—onions, eggs, herbs, rice, salt, flour.
Only carrots remained.
Two produce stalls had already sold out of carrots, leaving him stalled and empty-handed.
He turned to leave, resigned, when something caught his eye.
A small cart hidden beneath a draped cloth in the shadow of an alley, tucked away from the market’s noise.
And there she was—Ameth.
She wore a plain brown tunic over a light undershirt, paired with a modest dark skirt and soft boots—nothing enchanted, nothing extravagant.
Yet her blonde braid shimmered in the sunlight, swaying with each subtle shift of her hips as she leaned over the cart.
The tunic pulled snug against her chest, outlining soft curves with effortless grace.
Her skirt clung to her hips, drawing a line to her slender waist.
She scanned the stall with idle disinterest—until her icy blue eyes met his.
No surprise.
No flinch.
No flicker of recognition.
Does she even know I’m in her class?
Lor frowned slightly, his hazel eyes narrowing.