Extra's Pov: The Goddess Wants Me To Conquer Milfs

She stood there with her hands still on his shoulders after she had pushed him back, the space between them only a few inches, and the heat of his breath still ghosted against the soaked fabric covering her crotch.

Lucas’s face stayed tipped slightly forward as if the scent had not finished working through him. His arms had loosened from her waist but they had not dropped all the way. His fingers lingered at the narrowest part of her, the same place they had locked when he fell.

Evelyn’s thighs trembled. Love juices still ran in thin warm lines down the inside of her long legs. Some of it had already reached the back of her knees. The air between them carried it now, sharp and sweet and heavy, and she knew he could smell it even after she had pulled away.

"L—Lucas," she said again, the same broken whisper, only quieter this time.

He lifted his head at last. His eyes were dark. A faint shine sat at the corner of his mouth where her scent had clung.

"Mom," he said. "You said you were alright."

The words were simple. They should have been nothing. They landed on her like a hand around the throat.

She had shouted at him minutes ago. She had told him to go to his room and sleep. She had sounded harsh on purpose so he would leave. Now he was standing in front of her with her juices still drying on the floor behind the door and her panties shoved aside under the thin cloth of whatever she had thrown on.

Evelyn swallowed. Her throat clicked.

"I am," she said. "I just... I needed a moment."

Her voice did not sound like a mother’s voice. It sounded used.

Lucas did not step back. His gaze dropped once, fast, to the dark patch spreading at the front of her. He looked up again as if he had not done it.

"You’re shaking," he said.

"I’m fine."

She was not fine. Her asshole still fluttered around the memory of her own finger. Her pussy felt swollen and newly closed, the way it had after the invisible cock vanished, but the leftover wetness kept leaking anyway. Every small shift of her weight made a quiet slick sound between her thighs.

Lucas’s nostrils flared.

Evelyn saw it. She pretended she did not.

"Go to your room," she said. Softer than before. Almost pleading. "Please. I’ll come talk after I change."

He did not move.

"You told me to sleep," he said. "I was going to. Then I heard you."

The sentence hung there.

Evelyn’s face went hot. Heat crawled down her neck and into her chest.

"Heard what?"

Lucas’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. Something smaller and hungrier.

"You," he said. "Against the door."

She had been pressed flat to that door while the invisible cock fucked her from behind. She had bitten her lip until it hurt. She had still made those little wet sounds. The squirting had been loud at the end. The spray had hit tile and wood.

He had been leaning on the other side the whole time.

Evelyn’s stomach dropped.

"Lucas—"

"I didn’t leave," he said. "Not really. I sat down. I waited. You sounded like you were in pain. Then you didn’t."

His voice stayed low. It did not rise. That made it worse.

Evelyn’s fingers tightened on his shoulders without her meaning to. She felt the shape of him under the cloth, young and solid, and the wrongness of holding him like that after what she had just done to herself made her cunt give a slow, traitorous clench.

"You shouldn’t have stayed," she whispered.

"I know."

He still did not step back.

The smell between them thickened. Her juices had soaked through. The crotch of what she wore was dark and clinging. When she breathed in she could smell herself, and she knew he was breathing the same air.

Lucas’s hands moved.

Not far. Just enough that his thumbs pressed into the soft give of her waist, right above the flare of her hips. The touch was light. It did not have to be more than that. Her skin jumped under it.

"Mom," he said again, and this time the word came out rougher. "You’re wet."

The honesty of it knocked the air from her.

Evelyn’s lips parted. No sound came at first. Then a thin, embarrassed breath.

"I... I was washing. The water—"

"That’s not water."

He said it quietly, like he was being careful with her, and the care made her feel filthier than if he had been crude.

She should have slapped his hands away. She should have stepped around him and shut the door and locked it. She should have done any of the things a mother does when her son has his face too close to the place she just came all over the bathroom floor.

She stood there instead, thighs pressed together, trying to hide the slow drip that would not stop.

Lucas leaned in a fraction.

Not enough to put his face back where it had been. Enough that his nose almost brushed the damp cloth.

Evelyn’s whole body locked.

"Don’t," she said. The word had no force.

He inhaled anyway. Slow. Deep. The same way he had when he first fell into her.

A sound left him. Small. Almost swallowed. It went straight down her spine and settled between her legs like another lick from that invisible tongue.

"You smell," he murmured against the wet fabric, "like you just finished."

Evelyn’s knees nearly went.

Shame and heat tangled so tight she could not tell them apart. Her nipples had already been tight. Now they ached. Her clit, still sensitive from being flicked and licked by something she could not see, throbbed once, hard.

"Lucas. Stop."

He did not lift his head right away. His breath soaked the cloth. Warm. Damp. Too close to the swollen lips underneath.

When he did look up, his eyes were glassy.

She stood there with her hands still on his shoulders after she had pushed him back, the space between them only a few inches, and the heat of his breath still ghosted against the soaked fabric covering her crotch.

Lucas’s face stayed tipped slightly forward as if the scent had not finished working through him. His arms had loosened from her waist but they had not dropped all the way. His fingers lingered at the narrowest part of her, the same place they had locked when he fell.

Evelyn’s thighs trembled. Love juices still ran in thin warm lines down the inside of her long legs. Some of it had already reached the back of her knees. The air between them carried it now, sharp and sweet and heavy, and she knew he could smell it even after she had pulled away.

"L—Lucas," she said again, the same broken whisper, only quieter this time.

He lifted his head at last. His eyes were dark. A faint shine sat at the corner of his mouth where her scent had clung.

"Mom," he said. "You said you were alright."

The words were simple. They should have been nothing. They landed on her like a hand around the throat.

She had shouted at him minutes ago. She had told him to go to his room and sleep. She had sounded harsh on purpose so he would leave. Now he was standing in front of her with her juices still drying on the floor behind the door and her panties shoved aside under the thin cloth of whatever she had thrown on.

Evelyn swallowed. Her throat clicked.

"I am," she said. "I just... I needed a moment."

Her voice did not sound like a mother’s voice. It sounded used.

Lucas did not step back. His gaze dropped once, fast, to the dark patch spreading at the front of her. He looked up again as if he had not done it.

"You’re shaking," he said.

"I’m fine."

She was not fine. Her asshole still fluttered around the memory of her own finger. Her pussy felt swollen and newly closed, the way it had after the invisible cock vanished, but the leftover wetness kept leaking anyway. Every small shift of her weight made a quiet slick sound between her thighs.

Lucas’s nostrils flared.

Evelyn saw it. She pretended she did not.

"Go to your room," she said. Softer than before. Almost pleading. "Please. I’ll come talk after I change."

He did not move.

"You told me to sleep," he said. "I was going to. Then I heard you."

The sentence hung there.

Evelyn’s face went hot. Heat crawled down her neck and into her chest.

"Heard what?"

Lucas’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. Something smaller and hungrier.

"You," he said. "Against the door."

She had been pressed flat to that door while the invisible cock fucked her from behind. She had bitten her lip until it hurt. She had still made those little wet sounds. The squirting had been loud at the end. The spray had hit tile and wood.

He had been leaning on the other side the whole time.

Evelyn’s stomach dropped.

"Lucas—"

"I didn’t leave," he said. "Not really. I sat down. I waited. You sounded like you were in pain. Then you didn’t."

His voice stayed low. It did not rise. That made it worse.

Evelyn’s fingers tightened on his shoulders without her meaning to. She felt the shape of him under the cloth, young and solid, and the wrongness of holding him like that after what she had just done to herself made her cunt give a slow, traitorous clench.

"You shouldn’t have stayed," she whispered.

"I know."

He still did not step back.

The smell between them thickened. Her juices had soaked through. The crotch of what she wore was dark and clinging. When she breathed in she could smell herself, and she knew he was breathing the same air.

Lucas’s hands moved.

Not far. Just enough that his thumbs pressed into the soft give of her waist, right above the flare of her hips. The touch was light. It did not have to be more than that. Her skin jumped under it.

"Mom," he said again, and this time the word came out rougher. "You’re wet."

The honesty of it knocked the air from her.

Evelyn’s lips parted. No sound came at first. Then a thin, embarrassed breath.

"I... I was washing. The water—"

"That’s not water."

He said it quietly, like he was being careful with her, and the care made her feel filthier than if he had been crude.

She should have slapped his hands away. She should have stepped around him and shut the door and locked it. She should have done any of the things a mother does when her son has his face too close to the place she just came all over the bathroom floor.

She stood there instead, thighs pressed together, trying to hide the slow drip that would not stop.

Lucas leaned in a fraction.

Not enough to put his face back where it had been. Enough that his nose almost brushed the damp cloth.

Evelyn’s whole body locked.

"Don’t," she said. The word had no force.

He inhaled anyway. Slow. Deep. The same way he had when he first fell into her.

A sound left him. Small. Almost swallowed. It went straight down her spine and settled between her legs like another lick from that invisible tongue.

"You smell," he murmured against the wet fabric, "like you just finished."

Evelyn’s knees nearly went.

Shame and heat tangled so tight she could not tell them apart. Her nipples had already been tight. Now they ached. Her clit, still sensitive from being flicked and licked by something she could not see, throbbed once, hard.

"Lucas. Stop."

He did not lift his head right away. His breath soaked the cloth. Warm. Damp. Too close to the swollen lips underneath.

When he did look up, his eyes were glassy.