The Heart System

I pulled out my phone and opened the gallery. Jasmine's photos were there, waiting for me. My pulse quickened. There she was, completely exposed in some, pussy glistening, fingers teasing herself. Others showed her legs spread, moaning into the camera. My cock throbbed just from looking at the images.

I slipped my pants down, letting my cock spring free. My hand wrapped around it, stroking slowly at first, my eyes glued to the screen.

And then I noticed it. The laundry basket on the corner. And on the edge, bright and unmistakable—the red panty. Delilah's.

"Oh… Shit."

My imagination ran wild. I was on top of her now, her legs spread wide, and I could feel the heat of her pussy against me. Her breath hitched as my mouth found her neck, kissing, nipping, tasting the sweat and warmth of her skin. I gripped her tits, rolling her nipples between my fingers, watching her shiver beneath me. I could hear her gasping, begging, whispering my name in the most fucked-up, lust-filled way.

She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pulling me closer. I could feel her cunt soaking, slick and desperate, just begging for me to bury myself inside her. I imagined sliding into her slowly, pushing deep as she cried out, the mattress creaking beneath us. I held her waist, thrusting harder, faster, listening to her moans and whimpers, feeling her tightening around me, her nails digging into my back.

The fantasy twisted darker in my mind—I was controlling every inch of her, pinning her under me, dominating her entirely. Her hair was a mess, sweat dripping down her temples, and her tits pressed against my chest as I slammed into her again and again. She was moaning so loud now that I imagined the walls could hear, her pussy clenching, gripping me like a vice, pulling me deeper.

Every motion, every imagined cry, pushed me closer. My cock throbbed painfully in my hand, slick with my own pre as I imagined her wetness coating me, the heat and scent of her filling my senses. I couldn't hold back. I could feel my balls tightening, the pressure building like a fucking dam ready to burst.

"Fuck… yes, Delilah…!" I groaned, my hand pumping faster, hips twitching. My mind was a storm of lust, every nerve screaming for release.

Then it hit. A surge of white-hot ecstasy ripped through me. My vision blurred, my body convulsing as my cock erupted. Thick ropes of cum shot onto the toilet lid, one after another, soaking it in sticky heat. I groaned, head thrown back, trembling as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through me, my fingers clenching around my cock, squeezing as if trying to milk every last drop.

I washed my hands carefully, then caught my reflection in the mirror. My chest heaved.

"Can't believe I just jerked off thinking about her panties…" I muttered. "God…"

I exhaled and left the bathroom, sliding back into the bedroom. There was Ivy, sitting innocently, completely unaware that I had just fantasized about taking her mother under me, fucking her until she couldn't walk straight. This system… it was fucked. Never in a million years would I have imagined jerking off at my friend's house thinking about her mom.

I crouched back down beside the computer, taking a sip from the glass of water. "Let's see… where did I leave off… uh, yeah."

"So," Ivy said, breaking the quiet, "you and Kayla still talk?"

"Nope," I said, keeping my voice casual. "Not after that whole thing with Mendy."

"Gee, I wonder why?"

I groaned and held up a hand. "Not again. Please—just… stop."

She threw her hands up, smirking. "Alright, alright, I was kidding." Then, a beat later, her expression softened. "Did you apologize to her?"

I hesitated. "Who, Mendy or Kayla?"

"Both."

I let out a breath, dropping my gaze. "Mendy wouldn't talk to me." My fingers fidgeted with the edge of the front panel. "Kayla was… you know… angry."

She gave a small nod, her eyes scanning my face like she was trying to read something between the lines. Then, in silence, she watched as I removed the front panel. Dust exploded into the air like a puff of old smoke, making me cough hard—twice, maybe three times. I waved my hand in front of my face and set the panel aside with a dull clunk, avoiding her gaze.

I blinked hard, my pulse still hammering in my throat. What the fuck did I just do? I'd actually jerked off in the bathroom—thinking about Ivy's mother.

My face heated instantly. I rubbed my temple, trying to shake the guilt out of my head, but it only made the room feel smaller.

Ivy looked at me and frowned. "Are you good? You got red. It has to be from the dust—let me open the window."

"Y-yeah," I said quickly, clearing my throat. "Must be the dust."

She got up, moving toward the window. The way her hips swayed didn't help my situation at all.

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Quest Available

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Title: Friends with benefits

Task: Fuck Ivy

Reward: 99 EXP

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Accept Quest? [Yes] [No]

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"Ah, fuck off…" I muttered under my breath.

"Mm?" Ivy turned halfway to me.

"Oh—uh, the, uh, fan didn't come off." I stammered, pretending to fiddle with the screwdriver. "Think I have to use a bit of force."

"Ah, got it." She pushed the window open. A faint breeze slipped inside, lifting her hair. The sunlight spilled across her thighs, bare and smooth, her skirt riding a little higher as she leaned over the sill.

I forced my eyes down to the floor, but they wandered anyway. Jesus Christ, Evan, not again.

"So," I said, coughing into my hand. "How's… life?"

"Evan, the god of small talk," she teased, settling back on the edge of the bed.

"I was just being polite," I said.

"Evan, the god of being polite."

"Ivy, the goddess of being an idiot."

"That actually hurt."

"Oh, does it now?" I smirked, unscrewing the back panel of the case. The joke helped, tension slipping into something easier.

As I pulled the panel free, a muffled voice cut through the quiet—Delilah, still in her online meeting. It drifted in from the living room behind the closed door, sharp and strained, like she was mid-argument with someone on the call.

"Wonder if everything's okay in there," I said.

"She always gets into fights with people from work," Ivy sighed.

"Why?"

"David got her the job. And since she broke up with him… they kinda don't like my mom." Ivy's voice went small. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, staring at the floor. "I hate this."

I looked at her—how her shoulders slumped, how tired her eyes were. "Can't even imagine what she's been through," I said quietly. "Didn't know David was the one who got that job for her."

"Unfortunately, yeah." She exhaled hard. "Fucking… ugh. Nevermind."

"Hmm," I murmured, pretending to check the cables again.

Delilah's voice came from the living room. "UGH! FUCK!"

The sudden slam of the living room door made both of us jolt upright. The sound echoed through the apartment, sharp enough to make my pulse skip.

"What the hell—?" I muttered, turning my head.

We both froze, listening. Then came the faint sound of footsteps, quick and uneven… and the click of the front door closing. Silence followed.

"She left," Ivy said softly.

"Fuck." I set the screwdriver down, running a hand through my hair. "Is she okay?"

"What do you think?" Ivy's voice cracked a little. "Every time I try to talk to her, she just pushes me away. She's so fucking prideful—can't take help, can't tell me what's wrong. Just shuts down."

"I can go talk to her," I said after a pause. "If you want."

She looked at me, doubtful but desperate. "I wouldn't recommend it… but please. Do it."

I nodded. Truth was, yeah—I wanted to have sex with Delilah. Wanted her bad. But that wasn't all. Back when I was still at university, she'd looked out for me—cooked dinner, checked in when I skipped class, even dragged me to those awful amusement parks she loved. She'd been… more than just someone's mom.

"I'll see what I can do," I said, standing.

"She's probably at the café across the street," Ivy said. "She hides it, but she smokes. I can smell it when she comes home."

I gave her a small nod and grabbed my jacket. "Alright. I'll be back soon."

I stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind me.

"Sheesh…"

I moved through the entryway and unlatched the front door, stepping into the dim corridor outside. My boots echoed against the floor as I made my way to the stairwell.

When I stepped out onto the street, I looked across the road. Sure enough, there she was.

Delilah sat inside the café, by the window, alone. A cigarette hung loosely between her fingers, her lighter refusing to catch. She flicked it once, twice, frustration tightening her jaw.