My infinite lewd system: Seduce My wicked bosses wives

’I need to walk away.’ She told herself clearly. ’Right now. This has already gone too long. I’m the adult here. Staring at him any longer is a choice, not an accident.’

Yet her other hand still remained on the doorframe.

Another flicker of heat moved through her rapidly, her eyes kept betraying her — tracing the veins and ridges of my cock. She was baffled at the same time, inquisitively imagining how much of a beast it would be if aroused.

The earlier scolding she had given me felt distant now, undermined by the fact that she was still there, still looking, still hesitating.

’He’s young and reckless. This is the exact kind of careless habit I warned him about. And still.’

She drew a slow breath, trying to steady the conflict in her chest.

Her expression switched, just like how it did earlier today at the guest room — a stern smile curved the edge of her mouth.

"No," she said finally, voicing out firmly but soft. "I don’t need anything else."

Even as she spoke she didn’t step back. Indecision held her there a moment longer, caught between the clear decision to leave and the stubborn, unwanted pull of the view that lingered in front of her.

"Okay, sure." I breathed, and then shifted my focus down as I slowly dragged my shorts up.

Her gaze lingered hungrily, almost as is if, saliva might dribble out of her mouth at any moment. but when I looked back up at her she startled slightly and snapped back.

I remained still, staring at her with the same mild expression.

"You.. haven’t closed the door yet!" I said, calmly.

"Oh sorry." She quickly closed the door, lingering behind for a moment, taking in all she had just seen — before she slipped into the guest room where she was actually heading into first before she sighted me through the thin opening of the door.

The question she asked me was a perfect lie, she didn’t know I already knew about.

I made every amenity available for Uncle Sam and his family, they were enough towels, soaps, paste, tissue papers, in that very same guest room she lied about not having just to have a clearer view of what her eyes have been feeding on since she walked into this house.

[Shockingly impressive, Kenji] LUST graveled at my master mind strategy that expose Auntie Vivian.

[You were born for this... and learning pretty fast too]

"Well she did do quite the damage on my confidence. But I had to payback harder." I chuckled low.

———-

Auntie Vivian’s POV — Later That Night.

The house had finally gone quiet.

She layed on her side in the guest- room bed, the sheets cooled against her skin, her husband’s steady breathing already deep and even beside her. He had fallen asleep within minutes, one arm loosely draped over her waist, completely at ease, completely unaware of anything that had happened upstairs earlier.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw it again.

The slightly opened door. The evening light spilling out in a line across the hallway.

Kenji standing there naked, calm and unhurried, the shirt dangling uselessly from his fingers.

The clean lines of his back, the chiseled waist hanging that heavy, relaxed weight of his cock.

And when he finally turned. The mild nonchalant expression that made it impossible to dismiss as deliberate exhibitionism, even though part of her still suspected it was.

’But still... I can’t believe I lied just to have a better look at that boy. And he ticked every box in my fucking fantasy.’

She shifted carefully, trying not to wake her husband.

The movement only reminded her of the low, unwanted pulse that had started the moment she walked in on him and had never fully faded.

She kept telling herself the whole thing was insane. And yet the image refused to leave.

’I hate that it’s getting under my skin. I hate that even right now besides my husband, I’m having wild thoughts and this pussy just keep’s oozing my wetness.’

She turned her face into the pillow, jaw tight. Sleep should have come easily after a long day of travel and family noise.

Instead she drifted In and out, the boundary between waking and dreaming blurred. In the shallow moments of half- sleep the scene replayed with sharper detail — his body, the light, the way he simply waited.

Once, she woke up with a small, sharp exhale, pulse elevated, her husband’s arm still heavy and trusting across her.

Sam never stirred.

She stared at the ceiling in the dark, listening to his breathing, and admitting to the truth she didn’t want to.

The house had completely still — long after midnight —she couldn’t stay in bed any longer.

She slowly lifted up Sam’s arm and placed it on a pillow, quietly standing up from the bed. The wooden floor creaked as her whole body balanced on her feet. Sam stirred slightly, grasping the pillow tighter.

She breathed.

She pulled on a thin robe over her skimpy nightwear, bare feet silent on the floor and eased through the door.

The hallway was dark and quiet. Everyone else was asleep.

She told herself she was only going downstairs for a glass of water. That restlessness was nothing more than ordinary insomnia.

But her feet did not stop at the kitchen. They carried her farther, towards the one room in the whole house that stayed the quietest at this hour — was the study room.

She slid the study door softly behind her, the click almost felt too loud in the silence.

Moonlight filtered through the half curtains, outlining the desk, the bookshelves, the single armchair, the desktop screen reflecting the moonlight.

She stood in the dark for a moment, robe loosely tied, the earlier heat still lingering under her skin, and tried to understand why she had come here instead of simply going back to bed.

The house remained silent around her.

She wrapped her arms around herself and stared into the dim room, the memory of his naked body still vivid, the hesitation from the doorway earlier still unresolved, and the night stretching quiet and private around the one place no one else was likely to enter..