[Thirst Gauge]
[Shows the percentage of how thirsty and sexually starved the woman currently is. The higher the number, the more desperately she craves to be satisfied. The lower the number, the less she needs it at all.]
_
Damon nodded slowly as the difference clicked into place with perfect clarity.
Desire Meter was personal: it measured how much she wanted him specifically — Damon Corvin Viremont and how badly she wanted his cock, his hands, his mouth. How obsessed she was becoming with the idea of being fucked by this particular eighteen-year-old.
Thirst Gauge was something else entirely.
It was pure, general sexual starvation.
It didn’t care about him at all and just measured how long it had been since she’d last been properly filled, stretched, and made to cum until she cried. A woman could be sitting at a desperate 95%Thirst Gauge because her husband hadn’t touched her in eight months... while still only being at 20% Desire Meter for Damon if she barely knew him yet.
’Two completely different meters and two completely different games.’
One told him how horny she was in general. The other told him how much of that horniness was already aimed at him.
Which meant the real jackpot was a woman running high on both. But the real prize — the one that made his dick flex hard enough to hurt — was a woman sitting at 90% Thirst and 10% Desire.
Starving out of her mind, soaking through her underwear at night with her own fingers doing a job they were never built for, and not thinking about him at all. Yet. All that wasted hunger just sitting there, going nowhere, aimed at nobody.
He was going to point every last drop of it at himself.
That was the fantasy, right there.
Not the easy ones.
The ones who walked past him with their noses up and their thighs clenched, who’d never once looked at him as anything but their friend’s kid — and then one day couldn’t sit still in the same room as him without crossing and uncrossing their legs.
Simple. Clean. And extremely useful for a virgin who was about to start hunting.
That was the part nobody would believe:
He was a degenerate, a complete pervert who’d been jerking off daily for two years straight... and he was still a virgin.
That little fact made him grin like an idiot.
"Who’s going to be the lucky lady to wet my little dragon first?" he muttered under his breath, looking down at the hard, heavy outline straining against his pants. "Whoever she is, she’s getting the full two-year-backed-up load. No mercy. First creampie of my life is going to be legendary."
He’d probably be terrible the first time. Nine inches of pure enthusiasm and zero experience, blowing his load in about forty seconds the second he felt actual warm, wet pussy gripping him instead of his own fist.
Embarrassing. Historic, even.
Then again — he’d never once needed a break in two years. Round two would be up and ready before she’d finished catching her breath. Round three too. She could laugh at the forty seconds all she wanted; she wouldn’t be laughing by the time he was done with her.
And that was what Predator’s Gaze was for, wasn’t it? Cheating his way through the tutorial like every other protagonist who’d ever been handed a system.
_
[Desire Points and Exchange Shop:
[Host will be rewarded with Desire Points (DP) for every sexual activity he engages in. Some missions will also award DP. Desire Points are the only currency accepted in the System’s Exchange Shop, where Host can exchange them for goods and abilities.]
[Note: The Exchange Shop is currently sealed. It can only be unlocked after Host accumulates 10,000 Desire Points to break the seal.]
_
"Ten thousand!" Damon repeated flatly.
The system said nothing, cheerfully.
Ten thousand points before he could even window shop. He didn’t know yet what a single session paid out, but something told him the number wasn’t generous. Which meant the shop wasn’t a reward — it was bait.
Dangle the treasure chest, make him grind for it, and the grinding just so happened to involve making mature women screams and moans.
Worst homework assignment ever. He’d start immediately.
_
[Note 2: Each sexual activity awards a certain amount of DP. The more depraved, taboo, and illicit the act, the more DP Host will receive. Especially forbidden acts — such as cuckolding other men, fucking lesbian’s partners, fucking family members and cuckolding uncles, satisfying powerful men’s women, your teachers and other forbidden and illicit acts — will reward Host with ×5 the normal amount of Desire Points!]
_
Damon’s lips slowly curled into the greediest, most degenerate grin he had ever worn.
×5 for cuckolding.
The system was literally paying him extra to fuck another man’s wife, another man’s girlfriend, another man’s mother.
It was rewarding him for being the exact kind of shameless, home-wrecking bastard he’d always fantasized about becoming in the darkest corners of his mind. The more forbidden it was, the more points he earned.
The system wanted him to be a problem.
Which reframed the entire grind, didn’t it.
Ten thousand points doing things the boring way could take months. Ten thousand points doing things the forbidden way — a married woman moaning his name in her own marital bed, her husband’s cologne still on the pillow, wedding photos watching from the nightstand — that was five times faster.
The math wasn’t subtle.
The system had looked at his soul, found the worst/best thing in it, and put it on sale.
He could already see it now starting with the women closest to him. Camila. His mother’s sisters who were currently under the same roof — the three of them who’d been teasing him for years, pinching his cheeks, calling him their handsome little nephew, leaning over him in low tops with their heavy tits practically resting on his shoulder while pretending not to notice exactly where his eyes went.
They noticed. They always noticed.
They just liked watching him squirm and go red and cross his legs at the dinner table.
He wondered what their gauges looked like right now, three doors down, all of them in their nightclothes.
He wondered which one was the most starved. Which one had a vibrator in her suitcase and had already used it tonight in a guest room in his house, biting a pillow so nobody would hear, with no idea her nephew was two floors below doing the exact same thing to the thought of her.
And he wondered how fast the teasing would stop — how fast those smug, playful smiles would break — the first time one of them felt his hand slide up her thigh under the table and realized the boy she’d been winding up for years had stopped being a boy, and had started keeping score.
Then the lonely, neglected milfs who floated through their social circle wearing those tight dresses and sad, hungry eyes. Powerful older women who thought they were too high-class, too married, too sophisticated to ever spread their legs for an eighteen-year-old... until he made them.
CEOs who ran boardrooms in heels and pencil skirts, who fired grown men before lunch and went home to husbands who hadn’t touched them in years — a woman who’d need her mouth covered to keep from screaming the first time somebody actually did it right, and who’d be texting him from a board meeting three days later with her panties already off.
The whole glittering upper crust of the city. Millions in jewelry, marriages made of paperwork, and pussies going to waste behind every single one of those gated driveways.
And he’d just been handed the cheat code.
He looked exactly like what he was — a virgin with a nine-inch dick and two years of pure, bottled-up frustration, suddenly handed a system that turned his biggest weakness into a cheat code for conquering every mature, experienced woman he had ever jerked off to in the dark.
But his courage wasn’t completely unfounded anymore.
He had tools now. Real ones.
Still... before he started plotting the slow, corruption of every thick or not mature body in his orbit, there was one more thing sitting there like a Christmas present he hadn’t opened yet.
And one word from the Desire Meter description was still nagging at him. When unlocked. Which meant it wasn’t.
Which meant something out there had to unlock it.
He had a pretty good guess where.
The Beginner Pack.
Damon rubbed his hands together, eyes gleaming with pure teenage lust and greed.
"Alright, System. Beginner Pack. Show me the free shit first."