Banging the Hot MILFs of Tokyo

Airi rolled her eyes, definitely not believing her ears. If he told his past self that he'd be the one to be fucking girls, even himself wouldn't have believed.

"You don't have to make up stories to feel among," Airi scoffed, shoving her elbow in his gut and giving him a sideways glance. "You're weird just the way you are."

Yuki huffed, half-offended, half-flattered, and fell into step beside her as they started walking toward the nearest subway station. The entire time, he kept his eyes on his phone, his thoughts shifting over to Aiko. They were meant to have a heated session tonight in her office.

And maybe tonight was supposed to be when Aiko would finally give him an answer who knows? At last, they reached the station entrance, nothing the next loading time since the subway was already packed. Airi suddenly stopped, turned to him, cocking her head. " The next train to Tokyo is in four hours from now. I might not be able to stay too long so do you have a pen?"

Yuki blinked. "What? Why?"

"Trust me." A wink surfaced plainly on her face and then vanished like it was never there.

Still blinking, still confused, he reached into both of his pants pocket but found it empty. Turning awkwardly to Airi, he shook his head as a no but she was determined to get a pen.

Yuki's gaze fell on a nearby bench where an elderly woman was filling out a crossword puzzle. With a nervous smile and a small bow, he managed to borrow her pen, holding it gently.

He turned back an walked over to Airi, handing it to her with a curious view. "What do you want to use it for?"

Just in time, Airi popped the cap off—with her teeth. "Roll up your sleeve," she ordered.

"What? Why?" She didn't answer, just raised an eyebrow. Yuki, both intrigued and vaguely terrified, did as told. He held out his arm.

Airi held the pen steadily, and with strokes, scribbled her number down his forearm. Then, looking up at him with a smirk that could have ruined nations, she added one more word beside the digits:

080-1943-8762

"Dickhead."

Before he could respond, react, or even blink properly, she capped the pen andreturned it to the old lady, hurrying back to Yuki. She stepped in and pressed a brief kiss to his lips.

Then she pulled away just as fast and walked off down the subway stairs without looking back. "Call me asshole. And thanks..."

Yuki stood there. Sleeve still rolled up. Mouth slightly open. Brain rebooting. Staring at her handwriting on his skin like it was the first language he ever learned. He pulled out his phone, about to dial the number when another call came in.

Aiko Tanaka...

Yuki didn't recall giving her his phone number but at the same time, she was his lecturer who had every access to his personal details at her feet. Answering the phone call, his voice came in distorted. "Um-"

"Is this Yuki? So I might be going home early. I got called from my nephew's school that Missmi engaged in a fight and had a fight with his classmates over an anime character. I was called in for a parent teacher meeting."

He could hear her tired, solemn tone more like someone who had cried out her strength out. "You didn't really need to tell me. It's your life after all."

"I just… thought I owed you that," she added, softer now. "I didn't want you waiting around like an idiot."

He swallowed, shifting his slingshot bag to the other shoulders and leaned in. "I don't mind waiting for you."

A pause came from the other side of the phone. "Right..." Aiko said, a cold ambiance curling under the word. "Good."

"I can come by later," he said suddenly, surprising even himself.

"What?"

"After your meeting. Or tomorrow. If you want."

Another pause. "Yuki..."

Yuki's heart skipped a beat, his mind running in a million microsecond at once. Women were like this—anytime they wanted to reject a man every words they say sounded like dagger. Yuki was not ready to be let down so easily, not today after he had learnt how to ride girls to climax.

And definitely, who wouldn't want to try these sex upgrades with Aiko?

"Yuki, I don't think—"

"Don't say anything," he cut in, rushing his words like he had hot potatoes. It sounded weak, almost too desperate. "Please. Just—don't."

There was a stunned silence. He hadn't allowed for her opinion and without waiting for her to respond, Yuki ended the call.

The screen went dark and he exhaled loudly, clasping his arms on his head.

He stood there for a moment, clutching his phone so tight his fingers ached. The hum of the station returned all at once—distant voices, rolling suitcase wheels, the crackle of intercom—but none of it drowned out the words spinning through his head.

His jaw clenched.

"Coward!" he barked suddenly, the word bursting from his mouth louder than he had expected. Heads turned. Conversations stopped. Even the old lady paused mid-puzzle, her head up to Yuki. Yuki blinked, realizing too late he'd yelled it out loud. Really loud that everyone froze their activities just to turn heads at him.

"…Sorry," he muttered, ducking his head. "Sorry. I wasn't talking to anyone. Just—myself." His voice was low, the sort showing how embarrassed he was. People stared a second longer before getting busy with what they had doing previously, and a few maintained eye contacts with him just out of boredom.

Then, slowly, gaze shifted from him, and the station's rhythm resumed like nothing had happened. His palms went straight to his face, sluggishly wiping off the shame as he dragged himself toward the farthest bench, shoulders slumped.

He slid into an empty seat, sinking so low that his neck rested on the top rail of the bench's backrest. He fixed his stares towards the ceiling tiles.

"Dickhead," He murmured, agreeing with Airi's remarks. The hell he wanted women, women who'd chase him and not the other way around. He stared at the ink scawled on his forearm.

Yuki leaned forward, elbows on his knees, resting his phone between his palms. It vibrated once, and he looked down instinctively. It was just a notification from his gaming app that needed an update.

"Another update?" There was a tear of pain written on Yuki's face, he double clicked his messaging app, his shoulders slumping again.

39mb left...

"Stupid data." Yuki hissed moving to his bank account and purchasing another batch that would last him for two months. He then clicked on update and watched the progress bar fill up quickly.

"Installing… 94%... 98%…Start game."

LUSTBOUND: KING OF MILFS — v5.0.9a MEGA UPDATE INSTALLED.

"Even the name changed?"

A totally new interface launched, more sultry and erotic than the previous one. The home page was that of naked women, bouncing their boobs and asses in the screen. More realistic than the 3D previous version.

One thing that struck him was the feature recently added at the top corner.

Wish Shrine

He tapped it.

Enter your deepest desire. No edits. No regrets.

Below it was just a blinking cursor.

Yuki smirked. "Who makes this stuff? Every upgrade just blows my mind. I have to meet the mastermind behind this game."

Still, he leaned forward, thumbs moving before he could talk himself out of it:

I wish to have all the ladies in this world bow to me. I don't have to do the chasing—they'll be the ones doing it. I want to fuck them, and they'll pay me to mess them up. Any sort of woman: busty, slim, big ass...

He paused, reread it getting cringe all over again. However that was what he wanted truly, he didn't have to be a novice at chasing women and after much thoughts, he hit Enter.

For a split second, nothing happened. Yuki laughed out loud, attracting the same irritated glances at him but the heck he didn't bother apologizing. Time stretched on, evening awaiting its approach.

He sat there for as long as he could remember until he heard the blow. Another subway had driven right on the track. The doors slide open and some passengers stepped out. Yuki rose from his seat, shuffling through the crowd who wanted to occupy a seat for themselves lest they wait for another four hours to get to their destination.

"Hey, that's not fair!" Yuki shouted at the young man twice his size who shoved him harshly towards the window. "That was my seat."

"Get another fucker!" He grinned, sitting onto the chair. He popped open the window, glancing outside like someone who had won a trophy.

"Another?" Skeptically, Yuki looked around angrily. None of the seats were empty, and most of the strap hangers were occupied with those who weren't able to secure a seat.

"Boy you better find where to hold or stay or get the fuck out of my subway." The driver who has his belt strapped, his hands hung in the air about to blow the horn fumed. Yuki took a gaze outside the subway, the line for another stretching to the restroom area.

The fuck it will take another 4 hours if he lined up with them.

"He took my seat. My bag was there."

"Your business not mine." He yelled right back at him without a damn care and started the subway. "You better get down or you'd be sorry when I start to drive."

The guy barely even glanced at him. "What bag?"

Yuki pointed at him relentlessly. "Get your ass off, and you'll see the bag."

The man finally turned to face him fully. He was twice Yuki's size, the kind of dude who looked like he swallowed gym equipment for breakfast. His pecs bounced slightly as he adjusted his stance, arms folded.

"Are you talking to me?" He responded, the smirk on his face dripping with menace. "Over this—" He reached down to the side of the seat, and yanked something up. "—this worn-out excuse of a bag?"

"That's still my bag—!"

The man snorted, then in one stretch, ripped the handle straight off the bag, the brown thread went loose as it popped out.

Yuki gasped at the audacity of this man.

"Here. You want it so bad?" He hurled the detached strap at Yuki's head.

Thwack!

It hit him square on the forehead.

Pain spiked. Yuki stumbled back with a yelp, clutching his head where the swelling bump now formed. "Why?"

"And what the heck will you do about it? Cry to your mommy?"