Bored Gamer in Other Worlds

Clark didn't move, unwilling to take that final step—the one that would shatter Makena's promises and make them both cross a line they could never uncross.

His breath came unevenly, his fists clenched at his sides as he silently battled the temptation burning inside him.

But three breaths later, Makena made her choice.

Her eyes, trembling with guilt and longing, met his one last time before she took a single step forward—a step that bridged the fragile distance between them.

Her lips met his, soft yet desperate, and in that instant, every vow and boundary she'd sworn to keep dissolved like mist under the sun.

She had become a cheater, but she didn't care anymore.

All that mattered was the heat coursing through her veins, the pounding of her heart, and the taste of the man she had secretly wanted for so long.

"Hmmmm…" Makena moaned softly against his lips.

The kiss was everything she had ever imagined and more.

She had kissed her fiancé before—dutiful, practiced gestures of affection—but this… this was something raw, forbidden, and intoxicating.

Clark's breath filled her senses, cool and warm all at once, laced with the faint scent of mint and wine.

When Clark finally responded, her knees nearly gave out.

His mouth moved against hers with a restrained hunger, as though he had been fighting this battle just as long as she had.

The world around them disappeared.

There was no sound but their ragged breathing and the faint rustle of leaves stirred by the wind.

Makena gasped softly when his hands came up—strong, deliberate—and found her waist.

She felt herself melt as he drew her close until her chest pressed against his.

His embrace was firm and protective, yet filled with unspoken passion.

She could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her palms, each thump echoing the rhythm of her own.

Their kiss deepened, no longer gentle but urgent, hungry.

Their tongues met, tangled, explored, and Makena felt the last fragments of her resistance crumble.

It was reckless, shameless, yet she couldn't stop. She didn't want to stop.

For once in her life, she was ruled not by duty or expectation but by desire—and it felt terrifyingly, beautifully alive.

There, in the quiet open air, Makena fell into Clark completely, both of them lost in a moment that neither reason nor time could erase.

Clark's hands were not idle either.

He knew this night was meant to be special for Makena, and he didn't want to take her there, in the middle of the living room where anyone passing by could witness.

With firm, steady arms, he lifted her effortlessly, feeling the slight shiver that ran through her body as she rested against him.

Makena instinctively wrapped her long, creamy-white legs around his waist, clutching him closer as he carried her deeper into the house.

Their lips never parted, each kiss growing more urgent and hungry, a silent conversation between them that spoke of longing, desire, and the promise of what was to come.

Guided by his divine sense, Clark navigated the house with ease, as if the walls themselves parted for him.

He reached her room in a matter of moments, and with a gentle push, he opened the door.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated her face, making it even more beautiful than he remembered.

He laid her down on the bed with care, ensuring she felt safe and cherished, before joining her.

Their lips met again, and for several minutes, nothing else mattered—the sounds, the worries, even time itself, seemed to vanish around them.

Eventually, Clark pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers.

Makena's chest heaved, her breaths uneven, and her eyes shone with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty.

"You wanted this," Clark murmured, his voice low and teasing, sending a thrill down her spine. "Then you'll have to work for it."

He gestured subtly toward his pants, and Makena's eyes widened, a flush creeping across her cheeks.

She pouted briefly, a silent protest that only made him smile, before her slender fingers reached for his belt.

Her touch was tentative at first, then more confident as she unfastened it and tugged his pants down.

As she slipped off his boxers, her gaze met his, and what she saw left her completely stunned.

Clark's body was sculpted, a perfect balance of strength and elegance, every line and curve defined as if he had been carved by a master.

Makena's breath caught in her throat, her fingers trembling slightly as they traced along him, exploring what she had only dreamed about until now.

His eyes bore into hers, dark with desire yet tender with care, and in that moment, the world outside ceased to exist entirely.

She looked carefully again and she was stunned.

"Is this real?" Makena thought, her mind spinning.

Her eyes widened as she took in the sight before her.

Clark's cock was already fully hard, impossibly large, and it seemed almost unreal.

It was easily fifteen inches long, thick and heavy, the kind of size she had never imagined even in her wildest fantasies.

The veins along its length were pronounced, pulsing slightly as if alive, and the sheer power it radiated both fascinated and terrified her.

Her hands trembled as they hovered near him, unsure if she dared touch it yet.

A shiver ran down her spine, part fear, part anticipation.

This was the first cock she had ever seen, and she hadn't expected anything like this—not this size, not this presence.

Every instinct in her told her to be cautious, yet another, darker instinct whispered that she wanted it, needed it, even if just to marvel at it.

Makena's heart pounded in her chest, her breaths coming in short, uneven gasps.

She felt tiny under its enormity, overwhelmed by its sheer dominance.

And yet, there was something mesmerizing about it, the way it seemed to command attention without saying a word.

Her mind raced with questions she didn't know how to answer, but deep down, a mixture of curiosity, fear, and desire swirled within her, leaving her frozen yet captivated.