My Milf System

I left poor Hillary in tears outside his father’s grand estate. Strangely, it seemed like the world itself had erased him—no one remembered his name, his face, or that he ever existed. He was a ghost now. Alone. Homeless. And as much as I could’ve offered him shelter—at my house or even in my realm—his pride was a chain around his neck. Let him feel the weight of the world outside his pampered walls. Let him taste life without a title or a silver spoon.

Thanks to the fact that time moved differently between the demon realm and here, though I’d been gone for days on the other side, only one day had passed here.

I went home, and as l stepped inside, l was greeted by the comforting stillness of home. I wandered into the kitchen, unsurprised to find it cleaner and more orderly than I remembered. Hunger gnawed at me, so I started rummaging through the cupboards and pots. That’s when l heard moaning coming from the bathroom.

Could it be Mom? I asked myself. But usually by this time, she wouldn’t be home. The only one who could be home was my sister, Sharon.

Could she be fucking with a guy?

But Sharon didn’t have a boyfriend, at least not one I knew of.

Curious, I tiptoed toward the loud, breathy moans and stopped in front of the bathroom door.

As I listened closely, my breath caught.

It was Sharon.

And from the sounds coming through the door—wet, rhythmic, needy—I could tell she wasn’t with anyone.

She was masturbating.