Hunting MILFs in a Trash Eroge

Damien's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise breaking through his otherwise calm expression.

For a brief moment, he thought he might have been mistaken—but no. The sight before him was unmistakable.

'She's… milking herself…?' he thought, his gaze fixed on Nora in disbelief.

The rhythmic squeeze of her fingers, the faint wet sound as milk spurted softly into the small bowl before her—it all looked so surreal, almost out of place in the quiet of the room.

But then… the sight of her breasts, and even the milk spurting out of her nipples looked so beautiful at the same time.

He had never known about this—never even imagined that Nora's breasts could produce milk.

After all, it had been years since her child died, so technically, he doubted she should still be producing milk.

Her breathing was shallow, her hands trembling just slightly as she pressed her palms against her breasts and squeezed again.

Another small spurt of milk trickled out, hitting the surface of the bowl with a faint, rhythmic patter.

In the bowl, there was always quite an amount of milk inside.

Nora still hadn't noticed him. She was lost in her own world, her face faintly scrunched as if she were concentrating.

Her technique was crude—clumsy even—as she squeezed her breasts as though they were soft tubes, pressing too hard one moment, too lightly the next.

The milk came out in uneven spurts, some splashing messily down her fingers, glistening faintly under the dim light.

Her dress was pulled down just enough to expose her chest, the soft swell of her breasts barely contained by the loose fabric.

Her skin was flushed, a faint sheen of sweat visible on her collarbone.

Damien felt something stir within him at the hot scene of Nora clumsily milking her breasts, and before he knew it, his cock rose to full mast, his pants feeling tighter all of a sudden.

'This is good… really good.' he thought, his lips twitching faintly into a subtle, knowing smirk.

He leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely, simply watching her for a moment longer.

The quiet, wet sound of her movements filled the small space, and for a few seconds more, she continued, completely unaware of his presence.

Then, suddenly, Nora turned her head slightly—perhaps sensing something—and her eyes widened the moment they met his.

Her entire body jolted as if she'd been struck by lightning.

"Ah—!" she gasped softly, her voice trembling.

The bowl wobbled as she instinctively tried to cover herself, her hands flying up to her chest. Her face turned crimson in an instant, her breath catching in her throat.

Her arms pressed against her breasts in a panic, but it only caused the milk that still clung to her skin to smear slightly across her fingers and forearms.

A few stray droplets slipped down, glistening faintly before dripping to the floor.

"D-Damien…" she stammered weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. "H-how long have you been there…?"

Her head was turned away, as though she couldn't bear to meet his gaze.

Damien didn't move from where he stood. The smirk that had been tugging faintly at his lips grew just slightly.

"I just entered," he said simply, his tone calm—too calm.

The lack of embarrassment or apology in his voice made Nora's cheeks burn even brighter.

"Ohh…" she murmured softly, still refusing to look at him. Her voice was faint, almost childlike in that momeng, and filled with embradsment.

For a few seconds, the room was filled with only the sound of their breathing. Hers was uneven, while his remained steady. The difference only heightened the tension.

Damien's gaze lingered for a moment longer before he finally stepped forward. The wooden floor creaked faintly under his boots, the sound making Nora flinch slightly even though he moved slowly, deliberately.

She still didn't lift her head, and her arms were clutched tightly across her chest as if shielding herself from a gaze she couldn't escape.

"Do you need my help…" Damien said quietly after a moment, his tone as unreadable as ever.

His calmly pointed at her chest, where her breasts were shyly covered by her hands.

The huge mounds of flesh bulged, unable to be contained by her small hands.

"…with that?"

Her head shot up a little, her eyes widening again in disbelief. "Wh-what—?"

He gestured slightly toward her hands with a faint movement of his chin. "You're doing this incorrectly, the milk will flow a lot better with an 'expert' like me helping you.

She blinked, utterly dumbfounded, unsure whether to be mortified or confused by his strangely composed demeanor.

However, her cheeks reddened even more at the when he used the words 'expert like me'.

She couldn't help but get flashes back to that night, when she saw him pound Claire mercilessly on the other mattress.

The images alone made her heaten up, and she felt a slight tingle between her legs, imaging herself being in that position.

But then, she shook her head, trying to focus on the current situation.

"You—" she began softly, her voice trembling. "You shouldn't even be… here…"

"Sorry, it doesn't seem like you need any help, so I'll just leave." Damien said, and to her surprise, he turned around, about to leave the room.

"W-wait!" Nora found herself shouting at him to come back, her eyes widening in disbelief at the words leaving her lips.

Damien immediately stopped, having almost fully left the room.

A sinister smirk slowly spread across his lips, and he felt the urge to chuckle, as things played out just as he had expected.

However, Nora couldn't see the smirk, since he was looking away from her.

She blushed, gulping as she said words she never thought she would to her nephew.

"I-I need your help… with my… b-breasts…" she muttered, softly biting her lips in embarrassment.

The smirk on Damien's face widened slightly, and his eyes shone in excitement.

[Nora's Corruption: 65%]

'That's it… now we're talking.' he thought.