The ordeal finally ended. Chelsea barked an order, and every muscular woman in the hut scattered, leaving us alone in the dim, sweaty air. She crouched beside me, her voluptuous body barely covered by that transparent loincloth, her massive tits swaying, pink nipples stiff, and her hairy pussy glistening inches from my face. "Fun fact," she said, smirking, "one hour in real life is three days in-game. You've been fucking for three days straight, Rick." Her laugh was sharp, mocking, as I lay there, my body aching, cock raw, and mind spinning.
I snapped out of my daze, anger flaring despite the exhaustion. "How fucking dare you do this to me?" I growled, struggling to sit up. "I'll tell everyone at school. My family's got pull with the board. They'll expel your ass!" Chelsea just laughed harder, opening a floating menu with a flick of her wrist. A screen popped up, and there I was—naked, getting railed by those amazons, moaning like a bitch, my cock spurting cum as I took it. "Go ahead and snitch," she said, eyes glinting. "I'll show this to your daddy. Bet he'd love seeing his pure boy turned into a clan whore."
I froze. She had me by the balls, and she knew it. "What do you want?" I muttered, defeated. "Money? You're just a poor scholarship kid." She grinned, leaning closer, her tits brushing my arm. "Money's nice, but I want more." Before I could ask what, a notification blared: VRChrome overheating. Disconnect recommended. Chelsea—Eunjie—sighed. "I'm getting this fixed today. You better quit the game, Rick. Meet me tomorrow at the mall, Burger joint. Bring the headset." Her eyes flicked to my cock again, and she smirked. "Don't make me wait." I opened the menu, hands shaking, and hit Quit.
My eyes snapped open. I was back in my room, the VRChrome heavy on my head. I yanked it off and glanced down—my boxers were soaked, thick globs of cum sticking to my thighs. I checked my phone: 11 p.m. Fuck. I crept out of bed, peeling off the sticky boxers, and tiptoed to the laundry room to toss them in the washer. Big mistake leaving my room half-naked. On my way back, I passed my parents' bedroom, door cracked open. Dad was still in Thailand, so it was just Mom. I peeked inside, expecting her asleep, but holy shit—there was Debbie, sprawled on the bed in black lingerie that didn't cover a damn thing. Her huge tits spilled out, creamy and heavy, nipples dark and hard, her thong barely hiding her pussy. My cock sprang up instantly, throbbing against my stomach.
I stepped inside, heart pounding. She was out cold, breathing softly, those massive tits rising and falling. "She's my mom," I whispered, but my hand was already on my cock, stroking slow. I pictured her as that game's aborigine, bent over, my dick slamming her wet cunt while I spanked her fat ass raw. I imagined pissing on her tits, marking her as mine. "I'm a fucking pervert," I muttered, jerking faster. I couldn't stop—her body was too much. I edged closer, cock dripping precum, and then it happened: I came hard, a spurt shooting out, one drop landing on her cheek. "Shit!" I hissed, reaching to wipe it with my finger, but she stirred, making a soft noise. Panicking, I dove under the bed as she woke.
Mom touched her cheek, mumbling, "Just drool," and licked it off her fingers, oblivious it was my cum. She slid out of bed, muttering about water, her thong riding up her fat ass as she walked out. "Flaunting that sinful lingerie with your son home," I thought, cock still hard. "You're a fucking tease." I crawled out, heart racing, and bolted to my room—but as I stepped into the hall, I ran smack into her. Mom's eyes widened, staring at me, naked from the waist down, my cock half-hard and swinging. "Rick?" she gasped, her gaze dropping to my dick, her tits nearly popping out of that lingerie.
I didn't think—just ran, sprinting to my room and slamming the door, locking it. I collapsed on the bed, panting, my mind screaming, "What the fuck did I do?" Her shocked face, those tits, my cum on her cheek—it was too much. I was fucked if she told anyone.
Morning came, and I dragged myself out of bed, nerves shot. I showered, scrubbing like I could wash away last night. Dad was still gone, and when I went downstairs, Mom wasn't there. On the dining table sat waffles with chocolate syrup, a tropical juice, and a note: Made your favorite breakfast. Love, Mommy. I stared, confused. Did she not remember? Was she pretending? I ate the waffles, barely tasting them, my brain stuck on her licking my cum.
My phone buzzed—an Instagram follow request from chelsea_211. Her profile pic was some anime loli, with only 14 followers. I accepted, and a message popped up: Meet me at the mall, Burger spot. Don't flake. Attached was a GIF of me, naked in-game, getting fucked, my face twisted in pleasure. A postscript read: Bring $900 and the VRChrome. She ended with a kiss emoji. My stomach churned, but my cock twitched, the sick fuck that I am.
I threw on a black hoodie and jeans, stuffed the VRChrome in my backpack, and headed out, walking to the mall. The whole way, I kept picturing Chelsea's in-game body—those huge tits, that wet pussy—knowing I was walking into a trap, but too deep to turn back.