The Man Everyone Hates Gets a Milf-Only System

My name is Chen Mo. I'm twenty-seven years old and work as a copywriter at a medium-sized ad agency.

My pretax monthly salary is 12,000 yuan. After tax, 9,800. After social insurance and housing fund are deducted, I take home about 7,600.

I live in an old residential complex in the west of the city. Rent is 2,200 a month, food costs another 1,500, and the rest goes to paying off my credit card balance while I cling to a miserable half-life.

That's my life in a nutshell. Plain, flat, and utterly uneventful. It's the kind of material that barely qualifies as a story at all, probably only good enough to serve as a background extra to make other people's lives look brighter.

But I have to tell you, I'm not just an ordinary unlucky bastard. Ordinary unlucky bastards just have bad luck. I'm the kind of person who somehow makes people dislike me for no reason.

When I step into the elevator, the coworkers chatting merrily inside all go silent as a group. The air freezes instantly, as if I were carrying some invisible plague. When I go downstairs to buy something at the convenience store, the cashier girl barely bothers to look at me, yet the next second she'll beam at the customer behind me, her voice so sweet it could drip honey. When I put forward a proposal at work, even if there's nothing wrong with it, my team lead Zhao Tao can still pick three or four bones out of an egg and make a disgusted face while telling me to rewrite it.

This is not my imagination. It's fact.

It's an objective reality verified over twenty-seven years and countless rounds of social practice, beyond any doubt.

I once very sincerely asked my wife Wang Youmin about it.

That day she was sitting on the sofa peeling an orange. After listening to my complaint, she stopped, studied me carefully for a full five seconds, and finally reached a conclusion:

"Chen Mo, you were born with a face that just makes people want to hit you. The weird part is, I happen to like hitting you."

Then she stuffed an orange segment into my mouth and shut down every last shred of grievance I had.

Wang Youmin was my college classmate. We'd known each other for eight years and been married for three.

Her features weren't stunning, but she was extremely easy to look at, the kind of woman whose appeal only got stronger the longer you knew her.

She was straightforward, a little hot-tempered, but she treated me with complete sincerity.

To be honest, getting her to marry me probably used up all the luck I had left for the rest of my life.

So even though I'm hated by everyone outside, once I step through this door I still feel like a complete winner.

I keep her close to my heart. I treat her like something precious in my palm, afraid I'll drop her if I hold her too tightly and afraid she'll melt if I keep her in my mouth too long.

So no, I'm not all that miserable.

It started on a Monday morning.

Monday morning is one of the time periods I hate most of all. Of course, Tuesday, Wednesday, and every other weekday morning are just as disgusting.

I crawled out of bed, and Wang Youmin had already left. She taught English at a training center and had to clock in at 7:30 for the early shift.

After washing up, I went downstairs to ride my electric scooter to work, only to discover that I'd forgotten to charge it last night. It had one bar left. It probably would make it to the office, but I couldn't promise anything.

I stood at the entrance to the stairwell and stared at that pathetic little sliver of battery life.

I never expected that this utterly ordinary morning would become the most important turning point of my life.

That's the thing about fate. It loves to slam into you when you're at your most defenseless, staring blankly at an electric scooter, without even saying hello first.

Just then, Aunt Li from upstairs happened to come down with a shopping basket. As she passed me, she shot me a sidelong glance full of disgust, as if I'd buried something ominous in front of her door.

And in that instant, I suddenly saw a line of pale blue translucent text floating above her head, exactly like a hologram in a sci-fi movie:

[Li Auntie (58) favorability toward you: -15]

My first reaction was: did I not sleep well last night and start hallucinating?

But Aunt Li was already walking away, and the text slowly faded. I rubbed my eyes, thinking maybe I'd stayed up too late working overtime and fried my brain, then got on the scooter and headed out.

On the way, everyone I saw had text above their heads.

The pancake seller uncle: [Favorability: -5].

A delivery rider waiting at a red light beside me turned his head to look at me: [Favorability: -8].

Even the old man squatting by the roadside soaking up the sun had [Favorability: -11] pop up when I passed him.

When I got to the company, I saw Xiao Liu at reception. Her favorability toward me was [-20], which stung a little. I was always polite to her and would nod hello whenever I passed by.

My team lead Zhao Tao had a favorability of [-35], which was no surprise. We both knew exactly where we stood.

And then I saw Zheng Xuemei from the finance department. She was probably thirty-eight or thirty-nine, with long slightly wavy hair and a very well-maintained figure, and had always been lukewarm toward me. Her favorability was [-17].

I discovered a cruel pattern: everyone's favorability toward me was almost uniformly negative. My twenty-seven years of life had basically turned me into one giant liability.

It was like opening a shop where every customer who walked in cost you money, and the more people came, the more you lost, except you couldn't shut the doors and refuse service, because you yourself were the shop.

The only exception was—

That night when I got home, I handed Wang Youmin the ribs and told her the whole thing from start to finish.

There were basically no secrets between us. Rather than hiding it and causing trouble later, I might as well pull her into it from the beginning.

Besides, with Wang Youmin's IQ and sensitivity, if you wanted to hide anything from her, you'd better have the skills to do it.

While she washed the ribs, she listened. After I finished, she was silent for about five seconds, then said:

"So now you can see how much everyone hates you?"

"Yeah."

"Then did you see my favorability toward you?"

I turned to look at her, and a number appeared above her head.

[Wang Youmin (28) favorability toward you: 987]

I froze for a moment and felt a strange pang of bitterness.

Nine hundred eighty-seven. It was an incomprehensible number, but it was positive, and hugely positive at that. It was the only positive number over two digits I had seen all day, like a diamond dropped into a pile of coal cinders.

"Nine hundred eighty-seven," I said. "That's pretty damn high."

Wang Youmin wiped her hands on her apron and turned around to flick my forehead. "Of course. If my favorability toward you wasn't off the charts, why would I have married you in the first place?"

Then she said, "Seriously though, is there some kind of control panel? Try saying it out loud and see."

I silently thought, system.

Sure enough, a translucent interface popped up in the upper-right corner of my vision, unfolding without a sound like a phone notification bar. The text was dense enough to be more terrifying than the most evil expense reimbursement policy our company had.

I read every word aloud for Wang Youmin:

[Mature Woman Favorability Adjustment System, host bound: Chen Mo.]

[System description: The host can view everyone's true favorability toward himself. For mature women over the age of twenty-five, points can be spent to freely adjust favorability values. Adjusting one point costs one system point.]

[Current level: LV1. Initial points: 100.]

[How to earn points - Basic acquisition: Make a mature woman climax once to receive 10 to 30 points, depending on her sensitivity and cooperation. Advanced acquisition: Make a mature woman climax two or more times in a row to gain an additional 5 to 15 points each time. Intimate contact rewards: Successfully kiss a mature woman's lips for 8 points; deep kissing and getting an active response from her for 15 points. Physical contact rewards: Fondling her breasts and making her feel obvious pleasure for 12 points; kneading her ass and getting her to wiggle on her own for 10 points; inserting fingers into her pussy and making her get wet for 18 points. Special event rewards: Getting a mature woman to actively ask you out for 20 points; making a mature woman give you flirtatious looks in public for more than five minutes for 25 points; getting a mature woman to say, "I want you to fuck me" for 40 points.]

[Hidden rewards: Making a mature woman call the host's name while climaxing for an extra 30 points; making her actively ask for another round afterward for 50 points; sticking out her tongue and rolling her eyes for 10 points; rolling her eyes and crossing them for 20 points; sticking out her tongue, crossing her eyes, and making a V sign with both hands for 40 points.]

[System upgrade: When accumulated points reach 500, 500 points can be spent to upgrade to LV2 and unlock "Mature Woman Sensitivity X-Ray," "Group Adjustment," and "Temporary Passion Mode." Higher levels will gradually unlock memory fine-tuning, public-scene bonuses, and other functions.]

I read the entire thing out loud, not missing even the hidden reward for "sticking out her tongue, crossing her eyes, and making a V sign with both hands" for 40 points.

Wang Youmin put the ribs into the soup pot and covered it. Then she turned around.

Leaning against the counter with her arms folded, she wore an expression that was hard to read, equal parts surprise and a kind of elusive interest.

Her gaze swept over my lower half, and the corners of her mouth slowly lifted into a faint smile that wasn't quite a smile, as if she were looking at something both absurd and amusing.

"Chen Mo, this system really understands you," she said with a soft laugh. "It doesn't let you mess with young girls. It just pushes you straight into the mature-woman pile. Seems it knows that women over twenty-five are the ones who can really appreciate your little 'beaten-for-free' scraps."

I quickly took the hint. "My dear wife, I have the heart of a thief but not the guts of one. This system is just window dressing. I definitely won't go around—"

"Cut the nonsense." Wang Youmined out a finger and flicked my forehead again, crisp and forceful, the same kind of 'educational flick' she always used. It hurt a little, but it carried the familiar intimacy of someone who knew exactly where to land the blow.

"If a man gets this kind of cheat and doesn't use it, whose fault is it if he works himself into a sickness? You can do experiments, sure. But I have my bottom line."

She paused, and her expression suddenly turned serious. Her voice also became steadier.

"You can flirt with those mature women and adjust their favorability to earn points. That's fine. But before you figure out whether this system has any traps in it, you're not allowed to actually stick your cock into another woman's pussy. Also, every bit of progress has to be reported to me honestly, in full. If I find out you're hiding things from me and fooling around, I guarantee your little brother will be living in a different place tomorrow morning."

As I listened to that, what I felt most wasn't awe. It was a kind of indescribable stimulation.

It was like your wife personally handing you a pass to go hunting for women. As long as you didn't cross that final red line, all the flirting, probing, and even the toppling over became seasoning to make married life more interesting.

Dangerous, but also reassuring in a way that came from being fully trusted.

I swallowed and asked the most important question of all: "Honey, about that reward for climaxing—"

"Forget that for now." Wang Youmin glared at me, but there was a smile in her eyes. "You're only starting with one hundred points. Figure out the situation first before you think about anything else. Take it step by step. Don't bite off more than you can chew."

Fair enough. I nodded and silently memorized it.

The ribs soup simmered for forty minutes, and then we ate.

I washed the dishes, and she scrolled on her phone.

Later, when we got into bed, she took the initiative to lie on top of me, one long leg draped over my waist, her chin resting on my chest, her eyes bright as she looked at me.

"Actually, I'm kind of looking forward to it," she said softly, with a teasing edge. "Which mature woman you're going to get to like you first, given how obnoxious you are."

I couldn't help laughing and wrapped my arms around her waist. "Thanks for the encouragement, honey."

She laughed too, then bit my neck gently, her teeth grinding against my skin with a little punishment behind it, only to quickly turn into a wet, hot kiss.

"But Chen Mo," she whispered against my ear, her voice low like a secret only the two of us shared, "no matter how much those mature women outside end up liking you... when you come home, you will always be mine."

The next day at work, I carried a completely new mindset and began seriously examining the female resources in the company.

Last night's husband-and-wife talk, which might as well have been a full system briefing conference, left me unable to sleep properly all night.

I woke up at 6:30 a.m., with those pale blue translucent numbers and Wang Youmin's final line, "When you come home, you will always be mine," spinning in my head. It sounded like a warning and a permission at the same time, with a kind of excitement I couldn't quite put into words.

By the time I rode my scooter to the company, it was only 7:50.

A few people were already by the punch-in machine. I kept my head down and swiped my card, trying to make myself as invisible as possible.

I had only taken two steps when I heard a familiar, disgusted voice behind me:

"Tch, who is this, blocking the road so early in the morning..."

I didn't even need to turn around to know it was Sister Liu from the administration department. She was thirty-six, married, the typical middle-aged office supervisor type.

She always loved mocking me.

I sneaked a glance, and sure enough, above her head floated a bright red [Liu Jie (36, married) favorability toward you: -28].

As I walked into the office, the atmosphere instantly froze.

The few female coworkers who had been gossiping in the break room saw me and immediately closed their mouths. The air sounded as if someone had hit mute.

I pretended not to notice and walked straight to my desk, all the while silently thinking system. The translucent panel opened at once in the upper-right corner of my vision.

I took a deep breath and started seriously examining the company's female resources.

Anyone under twenty-five was automatically filtered out. Once I did that, the options widened considerably.

First in view was Xiao Liu at the front desk, twenty-four years old, sweet and cute, but with [-22] above her head.

She was lowering her head to organize documents. As I passed, she instinctively moved aside a little, as if avoiding something dirty.

Further inside were two mature women from the planning department.

One was Lin Xiaoman, thirty-one, with short hair and a capable look, maintaining her figure well and usually dressed in fitted trousers. Her ass was round and tight.

Unfortunately, her favorability was only [-19].

Yesterday she'd even thrown a face over a punctuation issue in my proposal in front of the entire team.

The other was Aunt Wang from HR, forty-two, plump and curvy, with especially generous breasts. Rumor had it she was the company's biggest old hand at social maneuvering.

When she saw me, she even smiled first, but the number above her head showed no mercy: [-14].

Under that smile was probably nothing more than professional politeness.

I kept walking, scanning through administration, customer service, finance... almost every age-appropriate woman had numbers floating above her between -10 and -25.

A few who had worked with me only hovered between -5 and -8.

The cruel reality hit me like a bucket of cold water poured over my head.

At the company, I'm basically a walking negative-energy generator.

Even when I try to smile and greet people first, all I get back is polite, distant responses.

The system mercilessly laid everyone's true feelings bare in front of me. It wasn't that they didn't like my personality. They genuinely looked at me and felt annoyed.

I leaned against my desk, rubbed my temples, and a complicated mix of bitterness and sourness rose in my chest.

But soon that feeling was replaced by another kind of excitement.

Because I discovered an important pattern: the older and more mature a woman was, the less extreme her negative favorability toward me tended to be.

For example, Aunt Zhang, the forty-five-year-old finance director, was at -9, while Zheng Xuemei, at thirty-nine, was only -17.

That meant the system really was pushing me down the "mature woman" route, and mature women seemed to have a slightly higher tolerance than young girls.

In the end, my attention locked onto Zheng Xuemei from finance.

Zheng Xuemei was thirty-nine. Her husband worked on engineering projects out of town and was rarely home.

She was famously a cold beauty in the company, always wearing sharply tailored professional suits.

That white silk blouse wrapped her heavy, generous breasts so tightly that they looked like they might burst the buttons at any moment. And most deadly of all, she always wore a fitted pencil skirt on the bottom, a skirt that clung to her unusually full, lush ass like a second skin, squeezing those two large, round cheeks into a striking, highly seductive heart-shaped curve.

That ass was so round and lifted, so full it looked like it might spill out of the skirt.

The hem was stretched so tight that when she walked it quivered lightly, sending out waves of temptation from her hips.

The flesh-colored stockings wrapped around her plump, long legs, and with the five-centimeter heels she wore, her hips naturally swayed as she walked, making that heavy ass swing left and right in just the right amount. Too much and she'd look cheap; too little and she'd seem dull.

The allure of a mature woman lies in every gesture and movement, especially in that lush, fleshy ass nourished by years. Soft and springy, yet heavy enough to press on you. It's something a girl in her early twenties can never imitate, the kind of top-tier flesh that's been slowly marinated by marriage, time, and life.

But she was cold to everyone, especially me. Her -17 was even two points lower than Aunt Li upstairs.

When I went to the break room for water, I quietly moved closer.

At that moment, only the two of us were in there.

Zheng Xuemei stood with her back to me in front of the coffee machine, waiting for her coffee. The afternoon sunlight coming through the blinds hit her just right, casting a soft golden edge over her entire body.

Her white silk blouse faintly showed the outline of the dark lace bra underneath, and what drew my eyes most was the way her waist narrowed abruptly before opening out again into the two huge, luscious cheeks of her ass, trapped inside that pencil skirt.

Her ass looked especially prominent, full, and round under the tight skirt, like two ripe peaches pressed tightly together, fat and lifted, the peaks of her hips high and rounded, the groove of her ass carved into a deep curve by the fabric.

The material of the skirt was stretched so tight that you could even vaguely see the faint marks left by the stockings under the flesh.

She just shifted slightly as she adjusted her coffee cup, and those heavy cheeks rocked lightly, the ripple of her hips spreading out just enough to make her look unbelievably elastic and weighty, the kind of body that made you want to reach out from behind and grab it hard, feeling the softness and resilience that years had cultivated.

I swallowed and, without thinking, stared at that enticing ass for a few extra seconds.

The sunlight outlined the perfect curve of her hips, the way her frame suddenly expanded from a narrow waist into exaggerated fullness, then flowed downward along thighs wrapped in stockings. That mature, fleshy curve made my blood rush instantly.

Zheng Xuemei seemed to sense something and turned her head slightly.

I quickly pulled my gaze away, but I'd already carved that big, lifted, delicious ass deep into my memory.

I took a deep breath and silently thought, spend 30 points and raise Zheng Xuemei's favorability to 13.

The system responded immediately. The points in the upper right dropped from 100 to 70, and Zheng Xuemei's number instantly jumped from a bright red -17 to a gentle 13.

The magical chemical reaction happened in that very moment.

Zheng Xuemei picked up her coffee cup and turned around.

Normally, she'd just ignore me and head back to her desk with the cup in hand, not even bothering to spare me a glance.

But at this moment, when she saw me standing in the doorway, her steps halted ever so slightly.

Her gaze, which had always held a hint of sharpness and indifference, had softened quite a bit now, and there was even a faint, almost teasing trace of appraisal in it.

"Chen Mo, getting water?" she took the initiative to say, her voice still carrying that cool, mature-woman timbre, but with a little less of the coldness that usually kept people at arm's length.

My heart immediately started hammering, but I forced myself to stay calm on the surface. "Yeah, Ms. Zheng. End of the month. Finance not buried alive under reports yet?"

"Don't even ask," she sighed, lifting a hand to rub at her temple.

That motion pushed her chest even more upright, and the full curve of her right breast nearly brushed the tip of my nose. "The printer jammed again just now. That nearly set me off on top of everything else."

That was an excellent opening. One of the most important skills a man could have was saying the right bit of bullshit at the right time.

"I know a little about paper jams. Want me to take a look?" I said, following the current instead of fighting it.

Zheng Xuemei looked at me, a trace of surprise flickering in her eyes. Then the corners of her mouth lifted into the slightest smile. "Sure. Then I'll have to trouble you. You always seem to keep your head down and work alone, and I didn't expect you to be this helpful."

I followed her over to the printer in the corner of the finance department.

She bent down and pointed out where the paper was stuck.

That nearly killed me on the spot. The moment she bent over, her neckline naturally fell open, and a deep line of snowy cleavage was laid bare before my eyes. The edge of her black lace bra was pinning together a pair of soft, full breasts so tightly it looked like they might spill out any second.

Even worse, the perfume on her body mixed with the natural scent unique to a mature woman and drifted straight into my nose.

Young girls didn't have this smell. This was a woman's scent that had been settled by time and soaked in by marriage, something warm and deeply rooted, rising from the bones.

I forced down the fire surging in my lower abdomen and leaned in to fiddle with the printer.

It was inevitable that we'd end up very close, and my shoulder brushed her upper arm in the faintest, unavoidable way.

She didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned a little closer to me.

"Is it fixed yet?" she asked, turning her head. Her breath brushed across my neck, ticklish and warm.

"Done." I pulled out the wad of stuck paper and straightened up, only to meet her eyes head-on.

We were standing very close. I could see the tiny lines at the corners of her eyes, and they didn't make her look old at all; if anything, they added a kind of mature charm unique to women like her.

She stared at me for a full three seconds before looking away a little flustered, a faint blush rising on her fair cheeks.

"Thanks, Chen Mo. At noon... want to grab lunch together? My treat, to thank you for helping."

I held back the wild joy inside me and quietly glanced at the number over her head. In that short span of time, her favorability had already climbed naturally to 23.

Which meant the adjustment function was only the spark. Once the match was struck, the fire itself was burning on her side.

"If Ms. Zheng's paying, I'd be happy to accept," I said with a smile, already thrilled inside.

Lunch went absurdly smoothly.

Away from the oppressive atmosphere of the office, Zheng Xuemei clearly relaxed quite a bit.

The ice-cold beauty who always carried a bit of sharpness in the office seemed to melt in the midday sunlight and turn into an ordinary woman who was easy to talk to and easy to laugh with.

We found a quiet Western restaurant, sitting by the window where we could see traffic streaming past outside, while still feeling tucked away in our own little corner.

She was still wearing a white silk blouse today, the neckline slightly open, and with every breath I could faintly see the edge of the lace bra beneath it.

The fitted hip skirt remained wrapped tightly around that perfect, massive ass of hers. Sitting in the chair, the plump flesh of her butt was compressed into a slight deformation, yet it still radiated an astonishing weight and elasticity.

After we ordered, we started with work talk.

She said the audit pressure had been brutal lately, and I took the opportunity to share a few past experiences handling similar issues.

She listened very attentively, nodding from time to time, and the admiration in her eyes grew more obvious by the minute.

The conversation naturally shifted from work to the city, then from the city to life.

She took a small sip of red wine, leaving a faint wet trace on her lips, and looked out the window with a slightly dazed expression, as if she were looking at me and not looking at me at the same time. In a low voice, she said, "Sometimes I feel like being married isn't much different from not being married at all. If a light bulb breaks, I replace it myself. If I get sick, I carry it myself. If I wake up in the middle of the night, the bed beside me is still empty... Chen Mo, how long have you been married? Is your wife good to you?"

I smiled and teased her half-truthfully. "Three years. I'm pretty afraid of her."

That was the truth. I really was afraid of Wang Youmin, but that kind of fear was seventy percent awe, twenty percent love, and only ten percent actual fear.

Zheng Xuemei froze for a moment, then burst out laughing.

Her laugh was bright and carried a little of that long-lost ease, and the two full, heavy breasts on her chest trembled softly with it.

Under the table, I pinched my own thigh to keep myself under control.

"Being afraid of your wife is a good thing," she said with a smile, her gaze gentler now. "It means you care. Unlike the one in my family, who's been outside all year long. Who knows what kind of life he's living..."

There was a trace of a neglected wife's loneliness in her tone. It wasn't put on. It was loneliness accumulated over many years, surfacing naturally under alcohol and in a relatively relaxed atmosphere.

I pretended not to notice and placed my hand on the tabletop, lightly touching the back of hers, my voice warm but sincere. "A woman as beautiful and capable as you, and he doesn't even know to come back and keep you company. That's his own blindness."

Zheng Xuemei's hand twitched slightly as if shocked, but she didn't pull away immediately.

She lifted her eyes and looked at me deeply. That look could almost draw out threads, complicated and surprised, with a faint hint of wavering.

The system prompt rang in my head:

[Light physical contact with the target, combined with verbal teasing. Target experiences emotional fluctuation. Reward: 5 points. Current remaining points: 75.]

Five points. Not much, but it was the first batch of points I'd earned with my own hands, and it felt completely different from the thirty I'd spent earlier. This was a result that truly belonged to me.

The second half of that meal went even deeper.

She talked about the countless little burdens she'd carried on her own over the years, and I listened carefully, replying from time to time.

She smiled more and more often, and the fine lines at the corners of her eyes looked especially gentle when she did.

By the time we finished eating, Zheng Xuemei's favorability had naturally shot up to 42.

That put her somewhere between an ordinary colleague and a confidante. With just a little more push, we'd be crossing the line.

When we walked out of the restaurant, the afternoon sun spilled over her. She turned her head and looked at me, her voice soft. "Thanks today, Chen Mo. I haven't had such a relaxed meal in a long time."

I smiled. "Me too. Ms. Zheng, let's have another meal when we get the chance."

She gave a slight nod, a faint blush rising at the tips of her ears, and didn't refuse outright.

In that moment, I knew it. The fire had already started.

When I got home after work, I reported today's results to the supreme commander at once.

Wang Youmin was sitting cross-legged on the bed with a face mask on, and the white sheet of mask paper made her look like an exquisite little ghost.

When she heard me come in, she didn't even look up, just lazily hummed once and kept scrolling on her phone.

I told her everything from beginning to end: the encounter in the break room, fixing the printer, being invited to lunch, talking about the husband, the slight physical contact, and the favorability naturally rising to 42 in the end.

After listening, Wang Youmin let out a cold snort.

The next second, one long, smooth, snow-white leg came flying straight at me and landed perfectly on my thigh.

She was using her usual "educational kick" again. The force wasn't light, but it wasn't actually angry either. It was definitely not nothing.

"Nice one, Chen Mo," she said, her voice thick with jealousy and deliberately drawn out. "You can even work up feelings while fixing a printer. Then you have lunch with her and talk about how her husband never comes home. What, planning to help her change a light bulb tonight?"

I knew this was her way of putting me on notice, so I hurriedly grabbed the little foot she'd kicked at me and kissed the back of her fair, delicate foot. Then I used my fingers to gently stroke her smooth, taut calf, coaxing her with a low voice. "Wife, heaven and earth can testify, this was all an act. What I'm really craving is always this body of yours."

Wang Youmin was a little stirred by my touch, her toes hooking restlessly in my palm like a spoiled cat. But she still refused to let me off the hook. She lifted her chin slightly and glared at me through the mask. "Don't try to sweet-talk your way past me. Since you got some other woman worked up out there, you're paying your marital debt tonight to calm that fire down. If you don't serve this empress well enough, tomorrow I'll go to Finance and peel the skin off both you and that Ms. Zheng."

Those words were full of jealousy and a fierce declaration of ownership, and they lit me up in an instant.

To be honest, after staring all day at Zheng Xuemei's ripe body, especially that perfect giant ass squeezed so tightly by the hip skirt, my crotch had been aching from holding back for ages.

The second I got home and saw Wang Youmin, those two fires merged into one, and I couldn't hold back anymore.

I ripped the mask paper off her face and threw her hard onto the bed, kissing her lips, chin, neck, and collarbone all over the place.

Wang Youmin gave a soft cry, but she wrapped her arms around my neck and took the initiative to hook both her bare white legs around my waist. Her soft, wet pussy rubbed restlessly against my hard cock through my pants, hard enough to ache.

"You did pretty well today... you didn't hide anything from me..." she panted between kisses, her voice carrying a hint of reward, nasal and soft and seductive.

I didn't waste time talking. I just reached straight under her skirt.

Wang Youmin was wearing a loose home dress today, and she wasn't wearing anything underneath, not even panties.

My hand slid in without resistance between her legs and found the part of her that had been living in my dreams.

She was already soaked through.

I was almost embarrassed to say this out loud about my wife: she was the kind of woman who could get wet just by hearing a story.

By day I would tease other women outside, and when I came home to report it at night, she'd already be flooding below.

I had once seriously asked her whether she actually liked that feeling.

She'd been silent for about three seconds, then pinched me very clearly, which meant: shut the fuck up.

So in a sense, our little system game was really a two-person carnival.

I had only told her about the coy, suggestive things that happened with Zheng Xuemei today, and her pussy was already gushing.

Between the two plump, tender lips of her cunt, glistening sticky wetness was already sliding down the inside of her thighs, dampening a small patch of the bedsheet.

The moment my fingers touched that swollen, hard clit, her whole body jolted and a stifled, impossible-to-hold-back moan spilled from her throat.

"Wife, just a few words and you're this wet already?" I deliberately used crude language to rile her up, shoving two fingers straight into her hot, tight cunt and quickly hooking and digging. "You hear me talking about other women and your pussy starts flooding? So damn slutty?"

Wang Youmin trembled all over from my fingering, her waist twisting like a water snake, but she shot back without backing down, "Yeah... I just hear you talking about how you tease her... and I get wet... you fucker, go deeper... ah... yes... dig there..."

This woman looked as proper as a nun when she was standing in front of a lecture hall, but the moment she got into bed she could blurt out anything. That huge contrast was exactly what made her impossible for me to get enough of.

Everyone in the world might hate me, but she didn't. Not only did she not hate me, she was willing to tell me in this domineering, indulgent way that she needed me.

I added another finger, stirring three of them together inside her cunt while my thumb pressed hard and fast against her swollen clit.

Her wetness made loud, squelching noises, running down my wrist.

Her tits weren't big, but at that moment they were hot and flushed with excitement, and her nipples were hard as pebbles.

I bent down, took her left nipple into my mouth, flicked and sucked it hard with my tongue, and at the same time lifted her skirt all the way up to her neck, exposing her snow-white, full body completely before my eyes.

"Wife, spread your legs. Let me lick that filthy cunt of yours."

Wang Youmin's face went so red it looked ready to drip blood, but she obediently spread her thighs wide, wrapped her hands around the backs of her knees, and presented her soaking wet, pink pussy fully before me.

I dropped down and first licked upward hard from the bottom, sweeping all the wetness she'd leaked into my mouth. Then I sucked hard on her plump lips, and finally I hooked the tip of my tongue tightly around her clit and flicked it fast.

"Ahhh! Husband... your tongue is so hot... it feels so good when you lick me... lick deeper... stick your tongue in..."

I stretched my tongue as far as it would go and pushed it into her contracting hole, imitating the motion of fucking while I stirred rapidly inside her, and at the same time used both hands to knead her soft, elastic breasts, pinching and tugging at her nipples hard.

She trembled and twitched under my licking, with stream after stream of wetness squirting into my mouth until my chin was gleaming wet.

Only when she was about to come from my tongue did I finally lift my head and undo my pants, freeing that cock of mine, already hard as iron and bulging with veins.

It bounced once in the air, heavy and cocked upward, the head swollen red and glossy, with clear pre-cum already beading at the slit.

Since I'm being honest here, I should give my own equipment a proper accounting - not exaggerated, and not self-deprecating either.

When I'm hard, it's just over eleven centimeters. A very honest eleven centimeters, with no room for rounding up or down. In a lineup of men, it was the kind of size that sat at the bottom.

I was a little self-conscious about that at first, but Wang Youmin cured it completely with one sentence.

She said, "Enough works. A dick isn't measured like height, and nobody gives out awards by the centimeter." That made me so moved I nearly cried.

Luckily, it was hard and it lasted. Over the past two years, under Wang Youmin's careful "training," my technique had become excellent, and every time I could fuck her until she was half-dead and begging for mercy.

I grabbed her slender waist with both hands and dragged her closer to the edge of the bed, letting her snow-white, full ass hover slightly in the air.

This position let me get in deeper and hit harder.

Her long, smooth legs naturally parted, and the soaking wet entrance of her cunt was fully exposed before my eyes. The two plump, full lips were already swollen open, and the pink flesh in the middle kept contracting as clear, sticky wetness stretched down in threads and soaked a huge patch of the sheets.

I held my own hot rod in one hand, rubbing the swollen head back and forth over the slick, soft opening, deliberately circling the entrance without thrusting in.

Every time the head scraped over her swollen clit, Wang Youmin's whole body would shudder violently, and she would let out a moan she couldn't suppress.

"Chen Mo... you bastard... hurry up and fuck me... I want it..." She bit her lower lip and twisted her waist in impatience, trying to push her cunt onto my cock herself. "Pull that cock out and shove it in... stop grinding..."

I deliberately smiled wickedly and teased her in a low voice. "So desperate? You've been this wet all day since hearing me talk about Ms. Zheng?"

Wang Youmin glared at me in embarrassment and fury, but in the next second she thrust her hips up hard and swallowed the head of my cock on her own.

With a filthy, squelching sound, every last one of my eleven centimeters disappeared into her tight, burning cunt. Layers of hot flesh instantly clamped down on me, so good it made my scalp go numb.

"Ah... so hard... so hot... you filled your wife right up..." Wang Youmin cried out wantonly, throwing her head back and clutching the bedsheet with both hands.

I took a deep breath, held back the urge to finish, and started fucking her steadily. The rhythm was neither too fast nor too slow, and every stroke slammed all the way to the deepest point, exactly the kind of force she liked best.

"Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!"

The sound of flesh slamming together echoed through the quiet bedroom.

Every time I pulled out, a big strand of transparent wetness came with it, sliding down the crease of her snow-white ass. Every time I rammed back in hard, the head of my cock slammed into her soft, sensitive core with a dull, wet pop, making her womb mouth gurgle and throb.

"Husband... so deep... ah... harder..." Wang Youmin had completely abandoned her usual restraint, twisting her snake-like waist wildly to the rhythm of my thrusts, spitting out dirtier and dirtier filthy words. "Fuck me... fuck your slutty wife harder... mmh, ah... so good..."

The contrast with how prim and serious she looked on the podium while teaching the present perfect tense in the daytime made my blood surge, and my cock swelled another size.

Her breasts weren't big, but their shape was perfect, white and perky, with pink nipples already hard as little cherries, shaking violently up and down in the air with every brutal thrust.

I bent down and took one of the nipples into my mouth, flicking and sucking it quickly with the tip of my tongue, while my lower body suddenly sped up, hammering into her like a pile driver.