"I am so sorry! Oh, Goddess, I am so sorry, Kenta!"
Elara’s voice was a frantic, breathless squeak. She stood on the cobblestone porch, her hands hovering uselessly over her ruined dress. The thick, golden-tinted cream of the Jersey variant clung to the faded linen, soaking completely through the fabric. The heavy liquid pooled in the deep, shadowy valley of her massive cleavage, the rich aroma of caramel and aphrodisiac musk radiating off her heated skin.
Beneath the wet, sheer material, her breasts were heaving in rapid, panicked breaths. Her nipples stiff, painfully hard, and throbbing from the magical properties of Lara’s milk strained desperately against the fabric.
"I ruined it! I ruined your expensive milk," Elara babbled, her face flushed a dark, feverish pink. "I am so clumsy. My foot slipped, and I just—"
"Elara," Kenta interrupted softly.
He didn't step back. Instead, Kenta set the heavy wooden bucket down on the wooden porch and took a slow, deliberate step into her personal space. The morning air was crisp, but the heat radiating from Elara’s soaked, heavily aroused body was like standing next to an open furnace.
"You don't have to apologize repeatedly," Kenta murmured, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "It wasn't entirely your mistake. I was pouring it too fast. I should have been more careful. It’s my mistake as well... and I should help you clean it up."
Elara blinked, her brain completely short-circuiting. The aphrodisiac milk was seeping into her pores, sending chaotic, fiery signals straight to her lower stomach. Her thighs clamped tightly together.
"Help me?" Elara whispered, her voice trembling, her long eyelashes fluttering in utter confusion. A bead of sweet milk dripped from her collarbone, sliding tantalizingly down the swell of her breast. "Help me... how?"
Kenta’s eyes darkened into pitch-black pools of predatory intent. He leaned in close, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her flushed cheek.
Skill Activated: Lesser Incubus Whispers.
"Just don't say anything, Elara," Kenta commanded, his voice dropping into a rich, velvety, hypnotic vibration that bypassed her ears and hummed directly in her chest. "Let me clean it for you."
The effect was instantaneous and absolute. Elara’s logical mind the part of her that was a respectable, married housewife was instantly paralyzed. The magical frequency of his voice, combined with the staggering heat of the milk, stripped her of all resistance. Her jaw went completely slack. Her lips parted slightly, a soft, dazed breath escaping her mouth.
"Hmm..." she hummed weakly, her eyes glazing over as she looked up at him, completely stunned and entirely at his mercy.
"Good girl," Kenta whispered.
He reached out. Kenta didn't ask for a towel. He used his bare hands.
His large, calloused palms made direct contact with her soaked, heavy chest. Elara let out a sharp, breathless gasp as his warm fingers spread wide, pressing into the incredibly soft, yielding flesh of her massive breasts right through the wet linen.
Kenta began to wipe away the thick, golden cream. He dragged his thumbs along her collarbone, scooping the syrupy milk, before letting his hands slide agonizingly slowly down into the deep, wet valley of her cleavage.
"Ahhn..." Elara moaned softly, her head lolling back against the doorframe. Her mouth remained open, her breathing coming in short, greedy pants.
Kenta wasn't just cleaning; he was fondling her. He cupped the heavy undersides of her breasts, lifting the gargantuan mounds slightly to wipe the milk that had dripped beneath them. As he worked the sticky liquid out of the fabric, he gently squeezed the plush fat, kneading her flesh with a slow, agonizingly sensual rhythm. The sheer friction of the wet, milky linen rubbing against her highly sensitized skin was driving her absolutely insane.
"It's so sticky," Kenta murmured, his eyes tracking the movement of his own hands as they massaged her spectacular curves. "Such a sweet, heavy mess..."
Elara couldn't form words. Her entire universe had narrowed down to the feeling of his strong hands claiming her chest.
As Kenta swept his hand upward to clear a streak of cream from the swell of her left breast, he deliberately let the rough pad of his palm brush directly over the stiff, jutting peak of her nipple.
Flick.
"Mmmmm-ahhh!" Elara cried out, her back arching violently off the doorframe. Her knees buckled, and she had to reach out, gripping Kenta’s muscular biceps just to keep herself from collapsing onto the porch.
Kenta paused, putting on a perfectly crafted mask of innocent concern. He looked down at her flushed, panting face.
"Sorry," Kenta whispered, his voice thick with fake sympathy. "Did it hurt?"
Elara stared at him, her chest heaving, her eyes swimming in a pool of desperate, irrational lust. "No..." she breathed, her voice a weak, pathetic whine. "No, it didn't... please..."
She didn't know what she was pleading for for him to stop, or for him to do it again.
Kenta smiled, a dark, victorious smirk that she was too dazed to comprehend. He gave her soaked breasts one final, firm squeeze, wringing the last of the surface milk out of the fabric, leaving her skin flushed and her nipples aching for more.
He slowly pulled his slick, sweet-smelling hands away and took a step back, breaking the physical spell.
"There," Kenta announced, his tone returning to that of a polite, charming salesman. He wiped his hands on a small rag from his belt. "It's done, ma'am. Most of the spill is cleared. And... my money?"
Elara blinked rapidly, the sudden loss of his touch leaving her feeling cold and empty despite the heat raging in her veins. It took her a few seconds to remember where she was, who she was, and the transaction they had been in the middle of. She looked down at the clay pot resting on the porch, then fumbled frantically in the deep pockets of her apron.
She pulled out the remaining payment she had intended to give him for the premium product. Her hands were shaking so badly she almost dropped the coins.
"Uhh... yes. Yes, your money," Elara stammered, her face still an aggressive shade of pink. She reached out, pressing the cold metal into his warm hand, her fingers lingering against his skin for a second longer than necessary. "Right here. Take these gold coins, Kenta..."
She looked up at him, her heart hammering against her ribs. She was ruined. Valerie's threats meant nothing compared to the absolute addiction she now felt for this man and his magical product.
"And... thank you," Elara whispered, her voice filled with deep, unquestioning infatuation. "Come every day. Please. You are... you are a very nice guy."
Kenta pocketed the heavy gold coins, the weight of them a tangible proof of his growing power. He looked at the beautiful, thoroughly flustered housewife, her soaked dress leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.
He offered her a deep, elegant, and entirely mocking bow.
"Thank you so much, Elara," Kenta smiled smoothly. "I will see you tomorrow."