MILF Desire System: The Degenerate Son's Forbidden Path

Damon had already read everyone’s status.

At least that was what he was calling it for now (status), though panel probably fit better and he’d settle on something eventually. Whatever he ended up naming the thing didn’t change the fact that he’d opened every last one of them overnight — everyone except his two sisters, whose panels he hadn’t looked at and wasn’t going/ planning to really .

Camilla’s had been the first ones he opened, before Lilim’s, before anyone’s... and her panel surprised exactly nobody but himself.

[Camilla Morwenna Vale]

[Turn-ons: A man who watches · Being wanted quietly and obviously at once · Younger men · Being someone’s little dirty secret · Attention she never asked for · Confidence that doesn’t need to announce itself · A man who notices everything · Being taken in hand after long time of being ignored]

[Turn-offs: Being pitied · Men who talk about wanting her instead of just doing something about it · Being treated like staff · Pushy public moves · A man who asks her permission for every little step instead of just leading]

[Desire Meter: 45/100 — She wants you, Host. She just won’t say the word to herself. "He’s grown, that’s all. He’s just grown, and I’m tired, and this house gets so quiet at night."]

[Thirst Gauge: 88/100 — Has gotten herself off four times in the last six days. Twice with her fingers, twice with the toy in her nightstand drawer. Twice with the curtains wide open.]

[Kinks: Peeping Tom — specifically wants Host to be her Tom · Striptease · Being watched naked or while she plays with herself · Teasing and denial · Getting ’accidentally’ caught — "I’mma leave my door open" · Being fucked hard and merciless · Praise · Clothed sex]

[Fetishes: Lingerie — thongs and lace she picks out for an audience she’d die before admitting to · Age Gap · Voice · Open windows and doors left ajar on purpose · Being seen]

[Note for Host: You have already given Camilla one of her kinks without knowing it.]

__

Damon had a better way to describe camilla, it was:

Camilla was a pervert.

Oh boy he liked it although it was the thing still short-circuiting him twelve hours later, because look at everything that grace and quiet and six years of perfect posture had been hiding:

The woman poured coffee like she was performing a tea ceremony, folded her hands in her lap at dinner, answered calls in the study in that calm professional voice, said good evening, Damon in that soft even tone — and underneath all of it sat a list filthy enough to make his own search history look like a church newsletter.

Not that he was judging.

Fuck no. He was grateful, practically reverent even, and he had spent most of last night hard as a rail with that list burning behind his eyes. Every line on it had rearranged a memory; every polite little moment he’d ever had with that woman got dragged back up and repainted filthy — her bending to set a tray down while he sat there being a well-raised young man about it, her leaning over the study desk in that pencil skirt to point at something on a screen, six years of her walking away from him down hallways with that heavy ass moving under fabric while he kept his eyes respectfully at shoulder height like an idiot.

All of it, the whole archive, and underneath it she’d been picking out lace for him and leaving her curtains open.

His cock had been throbbing on and off about it since roughly midnight, and it started up again right now, hard and insistent against the fabric, as he grinned and slipped out of his room into the ground-floor hallway.

_

The mansion was dead silent with silence only money could buy at this hour; there were no single footsteps, clatter from the kitchens, or even a low murmur of staff starting the day. No staff was allowed to come into the main house before 6:30 a.m. For the next eighty minutes the entire estate belonged to exactly two conscious people, and one of them was upstairs wet, the other one was about to walk up and see how wet she was.

He walked slowly with his bare feet soundless on the flooring, and let the smile spread.

Heaven had been smiling at him this whole time:

All these years he’d just been too much of a coward to look up and notice and too short on confidence to do a single thing about a woman that hot who’d apparently been leaving her door open like a standing invitation practically telling him to make a move.

Or had she?

He still didn’t know, not really...

...a panel was a panel and words on glass only he could see.

He stopped at the bottom of the staircase to the next floor and stared up into the dim hallway above, and his whole body came alive at once.

The tremor started in his hands and went everywhere like a fine continuous full-body shake made of adrenaline and anticipation and pure undiluted virgin nerves when hew as about to do something dangerous and fate-altering, and most importantly it could screw him over!

His heart was already going really fast and was the twitching of his rod steel dick tenting in his pants since the second his eyes opened this morning, he gave one slow deliberate tap against the soft fabric of his night pants; it had been waiting for the exact moment his brain caught up:

What he was about to do could end him.

That was not drama.

That my dear friends was arithmetic:

If he’d misread this and the panel was wrong and she saw him and screamed or if she kept quiet and she went up to tell Lilith?

The fallout would be nuclear; his reputation and face, his place in this family and the mother whose eyebrow could dismantle him from three time zones away!

But the system had never once lied to him.

And what sat waiting on the other side of those two missions was too good, too filthy, and too perfectly measured to the exact shape of dick and too important to walk away from.

"Here goes nothing," he muttered and took the first step onto the stairs and took the second.

By the third his heart was slamming away at his ribcage hard enough that he could feel it in two places at once; his throat, and the base of his cock, both pounding on the same beat of a coward he didnt want to be no more!

The staircase had never been this long in his entire life.

It had grown overnight it seems and every step felt like he was walking on wooden stairs creating faint creak of wood under his bare feet sounded obscene in the silence, like the house was calling ahead to announce him "here comes the pervert of the house", and he kept climbing anyway, one hand ghosting the banister, that heavy weight shifting between his legs with every upward step.

He came out into the upper hallway and saw her door immediately, down at the far end.

It was on the same side as Aunt Agrat’s room.

Across the hall was Aunt Lilim’s room she used whenever she visited. Further down, Mara was Mara’s room since his sister had declared war on sleeping the same floor as their mother years ago and had never once softened on it.

Four doors, four women and one hallway with one hard degenerate walking in it with his hard dick— which meant getting this wrong wouldn’t just mean getting caught by Camilla, it would mean getting caught by an audience of all of them!

Damon pulled a slow breath through his nose and started walking confidently.

Every step landed heavier than the last. His brain was sensing and reacting to genuine danger, and had began throwing him exit plan in rapid cowardly succession — "turn around. Go back to bed. Wait for a safer day. Pretend the missions don’t exist, eat the bad luck, take the loss. Go downstairs and jerk off to the idea of her like you’ve done four hundred times, it’s free and nobody dies."

He crushed every single one of them under pure stubborn lust, and lust had the advantage of being physically present, because it was walking down this hallway with him hand in hand walking her precious spawn and getting closer to chances of getting caught by the step.

Every stride dragged the soft pajamas across the underside of his dick, and every drag made it swell heavier, until he was fully hard and aching he had to fight the urge to reach down and adjust himself in the middle of a dark hallway at five in the morning like a complete degenerate.

He was already here.

The clock was already running.

And behind his eyes she was under that water wet and steaming, warm water sheeting off those heavy tits, running down her stomach and pouring straight between thick thighs that would be slick and warm and open if she braced one foot on the edge of the tub, one hand flat on the tile and the other working slow between her legs, mouth open, making that sound nobody in this house had ever heard her make.

His dick was tenting the fabric out in front of him like a flag being carried into a war he’d volunteered for.

He reached her door and stopped.

For a long second he just stood there, hand hovering an inch from the wood, eyes flicking left, right, left again down the empty hallway like a guilty peeping tom expecting a spotlight.

Nobody appeared and the house stayed perfectly, almost mockingly still with nothing but his own cowardly heartbeat filling his ears and the slow heavy pulse of himself against the fabric.

He looked down the hallway one last time, past Agrat’s door and Lilim’s and Mara’s, then back at hers.

He took a deep breath before his fingers closed around the cool metal of the knob; he twisted and froze.

The door was already open.

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