Only I love Milfs: Transmigrated to a World Where Milfs are Hated

"Your turn?" Eren offered weakly.

She blinked.

Then smiled. "Sure."

She stood with a quiet slosh of water and turned around.

Her back was wide, soft, inviting—marked by a gentle dip at her waist and the swell of her hips spreading slightly as she knelt in front of the stool. Her side boobs peeked out like silent guards—too seductive, too obvious to ignore.

She reached up, grabbed her long black hair, and lifted it over her shoulder, letting it fall down her front.

"Go ahead. I'll guide if you suck at it."

Eren slowly brought his hands forward, grabbing the cloth—and then reached toward her.

He pressed the cloth to her back.

Warm. Smooth. Supple.

It was like an electric pulse ringing through his fingers, shooting down his spine. He felt a flicker of dizziness in his chest, as if his body couldn't handle the stimulation.

His hands moved slowly, trembling slightly as he worked the lather into her shoulder blades. She didn't move. Just exhaled softly, her eyes closed.

That exhale alone—it was seductive, unintentional, breathy.

And it made Eren's now sloshed dick stretch twice its size. The pressure was unbearable. It felt like it'd pop off just from the sound of her voice.

Then lower.

He lowered his hands.

He reached her lower back, tracing the graceful arch down to her waist.

Her hips, wide and round, sat firm against her folded thighs as she knelt. The way she was positioned caused the upper curve of her ass to lift subtly, tempting him with every inch of untouched skin.

His hand slid lower—hesitant, then slow with purpose.

He rubbed her hip—first gently, then squeezed it once.

No response.

She only smiled faintly, as if savoring the massage.

He squeezed her hips again and again, massaging slowly while watching for even a twitch.

But she didn't voice anything.

Just kept that faint, peaceful smile.

Eyes closed.

Enjoying it all.

Then—with a bit of courage and rising arousal—he used one hand to rub her hips, squeezing gently…

Then—with a bit of courage and rising arousal—he used one hand to rub her hips, squeezing gently…

While the other hand reached down, gripping his length firmly—trying to keep it down, trying to keep it from unintentionally brushing against her.

It pulsed violently in his palm, hard as stone, defiant against his efforts.

Rub~ Rub~

The rhythm of his palm over her hip didn't stop, but his other hand clenched tighter, doing all it could to stop himself from pressing too close. The tension in his body was unbearable—heat rising, breath shallow, dick twitching against his restraint.

He moved upward, fingers tracing from her hips, slowly along the waist.

Then—the side of her waist.

Then higher.

Fingers brushed the side of her breast.

Just the side.

It was impossibly soft. Warmer than anything he'd ever touched. Too much. Too real.

"Do you want me to wash your sides too?" he asked hesitantly, voice dry, breath shallow.

But before he could think further—

His aunt opened her eyes.

She turned slightly, looking toward the window, where the sunlight had grown stronger—spilling bright light across the floorboards.

"Ah! Look, it's already too late. Let's just get inside the bathtub together," she said with cheerful urgency. "We'll have to chop wood and open the tavern later too!"

"Sure!" Eren said quickly, panic blooming in his chest.He snapped both hands to his length, pushing it down—trying to cover himself, to hide the stiff outline of his dick before she could glance back.