Chapter 289 - 287: Wet

Chapter 289: Chapter 287: Wet

He didn’t bother with shy games. He didn’t want to be her friend; he wanted to own her. He went straight for the kill, using his eyes to strip her bare.

Ding!

[ Sasha Affection Increased to 14%]

[ Just a small talk with a handsome face, and a MILF will turn wet.]

"Cough... ahemm, that’s accurate..." Owen coughed at the system’s remark. He had to admit, the humor was spot on. With a face like his, most women were already halfway won over.

Of course, the face was just the invitation. The real "bonus points" came from what was hiding beneath his clothes. In his mind, he knew the hierarchy of attraction: a handsome face combined with a massive endowment was the gold standard for any woman. It was the ultimate recipe for making them crave him. As for the unlucky men who lacked these blessings, they were essentially invisible—mere footnotes in the story of a woman’s desire.

"Oh, then that’s good to hear! It’s rare for a young man to be so complimentary. Hehe, thank you, but you know I am married," Sasha laughed, gracefully covering her mouth. Despite the reminder of her marriage, the compliment clearly pleased her.

"Well, it’s not a bad thing to enjoy a few compliments, Auntie. Oh, by the way, I heard the festival went well... were you one of the lucky ones?" Owen shifted his position, moving slightly closer to her.

Up close, the scent of her hair was intoxicating—a fresh, sweet strawberry aroma. Everything about her screamed elegance, but there was an underlying boldness to her presence. She was a classic MILF, polished on the outside but burning with curiosity on the inside.

"Ahaha... well, you’re correct. I did enjoy the festival. But keep this a secret," she whispered, leaning in so that no one else could overhear her. "The Savior is a man with such a... powerful physique. He’s more or less built like you."

To the rest of the world, the Savior was a holy figure, a protector, and a hero. But to women like Sasha, he was something entirely different.

"Is that a compliment, Auntie?" Owen smiled. He found it amusing that even in a town obsessed with piety, the minds of the women were still wandering toward the physical.

"You can take it as one. Well, I don’t mean to gossip, but I am very satisfied with how the festival turned out. I truly hope the Savior returns soon..." she began to walk, and Owen naturally fell into step beside her.

"Tell me more, Auntie. Do you think the Savior only visits when a woman truly needs... help?" The amusement in Owen’s voice made Sasha tilt her head, a flush creeping up her neck.

"I am sure he would. He is the Savior, after all. He helps those who are in need," she replied. Even as she spoke, she could feel the lingering effects of the "pounding" she had experienced during the festival. It hadn’t been enough. The experience had only served to wake up a libido that had been dormant for far too long. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, her desire only intensified.

Unfortunately, one does not simply call the Savior on a whim. He was a busy man. Given his supposed "assets," Owen imagined the Savior was constantly moving from village to village, providing a very specific kind of "relief" to the neglected wives of the countryside. If Santa Claus brought gifts to children, the Savior brought pleasure to the MILFs. It was a fair trade, and the rewards were always high.

"Then," Owen said, glancing at his mental inventory—specifically at the bunny costume he had used previously—"are you perhaps expecting the Savior to visit your home, Auntie?"

"Ah, if only that were possible. But it’s not... and I don’t think my husband would agree. He’s actually worried that the Savior might do *too* much," she admitted with a giggle. She wasn’t praying for a miracle; she was praying for a hole to be filled.

"Don’t you think it’s a shame not to pray for his arrival? Maybe he’ll hear you," Owen teased.

"I doubt it, but a girl can still hope. Oh! Are you perhaps free today, Owen?" Sasha looked at him, really looking at him. She had found that talking to this young man was unexpectedly refreshing. He wasn’t boring like the other boys in the village; he had a confidence and a gaze that made her feel like a girl again.

"I don’t have any plans, Auntie. Why?"

"Oh, how about you visit our home? It’s only a short walk from here... and I want to introduce you to my partner." She smiled, a mischievous glint in her eye. Now that she had a handsome young man in her company, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to show him off.

"Are you sure about that?"

"I am 100% sure! Why are you even asking? Hehe, I’m sure my husband will be glad to see you."

Sasha was no longer lamenting the absence of the Savior. Why pray for a miracle when a handsome, tangible reality was standing right in front of her?

"Then I won’t reject such an offer. I’m interested in seeing your home, Auntie," Owen replied.

He noticed how smoothly things were progressing. Every encounter with a new woman in this village seemed to lead exactly where he wanted it to. The "festival" had clearly left the women of this town in a state of high arousal, and he was more than happy to reap the rewards.

"So, are you looking for something specific in this little village, Owen?" Sasha asked, her curiosity piqued as they walked.

"Nothing in particular, Auntie. I think I’ve already found exactly what I wanted here."

Owen let his gaze drift down to her hips. The denim shorts she wore were incredibly short, barely covering her curves, and the way she swayed her hips as she walked was a deliberate invitation. He wasn’t just visiting a home; he was entering a playground.