Chapter 91

Jasmine held me there a beat longer, tongue laving broad and thorough over the underside, cleaning every vein, every ridge, until I softened enough to slip free with a wet pop. She sat up slow, lips glossy and swollen, a thin string of cum bridging from her mouth to my tip before she licked it away. Her grin was pure sin, eyes sparkling as she wiped her chin with the back of her hand. "Mmm... wasted nothing. Tastes even better straight from the source. You okay up there, Evan? Or did my feet and throat break you?"

I slumped against the seat, chest heaving, the car coasting steady on autopilot while my brain caught up. The road hummed under the tires, rain pattering harder now, but inside? Pure, wrecked bliss. "Fuck... you two are gonna kill me. But what a way to go."

Well, that was my first time getting a footjob. My thoughts? Straight-up perfect. Again, I wasn’t into that kind of stuff—not really. Feet were just feet, you know? But when it was these two... damn. Jasmine’s soft arches on me like that, Tessa’s hot breath and dirty talk in my ear—it flipped some switch I didn’t know I had. Left me drained, buzzing, and already half-hard thinking about round two. The car smelled like sex and rain now, windows fogging up slow as I gripped the wheel, trying to play it cool while my heart still hammered.

The highway curved gentle around the next exit, strip malls flickering by in the dash glow—gas stations, fast food, the usual late-night traps. Then, tucked in the shadow of a flickering neon sign, there it was: a sex shop, squatting low and unapologetic at the corner. "Paradise Toys" or some shit, the window blacked out with privacy film, just a pink outline of lips glowing electric against the brick.

I gulped hard, throat clicking dry. The quest popped back in my head uninvited.

"Uh, gotta hit the head," I said, voice casual as I could fake it, flicking the blinker and easing toward the off-ramp. "Pulling over quick."

Jasmine stretched in the front, toes still bare and tempting on the dash. "Cool. Don’t take forever—I’m starving back here."

Tessa leaned up from the back, smirking like she could read my flush. "Yeah, hurry it up, champ. Unless you’re jacking off in the bushes."

I forced a laugh, scanning for a spot. Spotted a dingy little diner lot across the street—closed this late, but dark enough to blend. Eased the car in way further back than needed, killing the engine under a busted streetlamp. "If anything pops off, just yell. Phone’s on loud."

"Got it," Jasmine said, already scrolling her phone. "We’ll survive."

I hopped out quickly, door thudding shut behind me. Legs felt loose, post-nut wobble still there as I zipped my jacket and cut left—long way around the block, weaving past a dumpster and chain-link fence so the girls wouldn’t clock me dipping into sin central. Heart thumped steady, palms itching. Few minutes of dodging puddles and I rounded the corner, the shop’s sign buzzing faint overhead. Exhaled sharp, pushed the door.

The bell jingled soft, like it was in on the secret. Inside hit different—warmer than expected, air thick with that faint rubber-and-lube scent, lights dimmed low to purple LEDs that washed everything in a hazy glow. Racks lined the walls floor-to-ceiling: shelves crammed with vibrators in every shape, from slim bullets that looked like lipsticks to monster wands humming on demo mode.

Dildos hung in rows—silicone cocks of all colors, some veined and realistic, others twisted wild like alien tech, suction cups dangling for wall play. Lingerie dripped from hooks: lace teddies, crotchless panties in fishnet black, nipple clamps glinting silver next to feather ticklers. Back corner had the heavy hitters—bondage kits with cuffs and collars, fleshlights molded like porn stars, bottles of lube stacked high in warming gels and flavored shit. A whole aisle for women’s stuff: rabbit vibes with clitoral ticklers, strap-ons with harnesses that screamed power play, anal plugs graduating from pinky-sized to fist-thick.

Up front, a desk curved like a bar, cluttered with flyers and a tip jar shaped like a boob. Behind it sat the woman—mid-thirties maybe, belly round and full under a loose black tank, dark skin glowing smooth under the lights, long blonde braids cascading down her back like she’d braided in sunshine. Pregnant as hell, but owning it: feet kicked up on a stool, one hand rubbing idle circles on her bump, the other flipping through a magazine. She looked up sharp, smile easy and knowing, like she’d sized me up in one blink.

"Evening, sugar," she said, voice warm with a faint Southern lilt, setting the mag aside. "Layla. What can I do you for?"

I cleared my throat, hands shoved deep in my pockets to hide the fidget. "Uh, hey. Just... need a dildo. Nothing fancy."

Her brows lifted playful, but she didn’t blink. "Straight to the point—I like that. For yourself, or your partner?"

"Partner," I mumbled, eyes flicking to a rack of butt plugs just to avoid hers. Heat crawled up my neck; felt like a kid caught swiping candy.

"Mm-hmm." She eased off the stool, waddling a touch but steady, rounding the desk to a glass case of display toys. "Alright, let’s narrow it. Batteries or plug-in? She’s new to this, or got some experience?"

"Batteries, I guess? Don’t... really know." Shit, why’d I say that? My sneakers scuffed the carpet, gaze stuck on a glittery purple vibe that looked too happy for its job.

Layla chuckled low, pulling a few options onto the counter—smooth ones, ridged ones, all lined up like suspects in a lineup. "Fair enough. Thickness? Girth matters for comfort—too skinny, and it’s like poking with a pencil; too girthy, and you’re in for a ride. We’re talking inches here.

I swallowed, staring at the silicone like it might bite. "Hell if I know—first time grabbing one of these."

She paused, head tilting as she clocked the red creeping to my ears. Then her grin widened, teasing but kind, like an aunt ribbing you at Thanksgiving. "Aw, honey, you’re cute when you squirm. Bet you’re picturing it right now, aren’t you? Her moaning your name while this thing buzzes away. Don’t sweat—most guys come in here looking like they’re about to bolt for the door. What’s the story? Girlfriend send you on a booty run?"

"Yeah, sorry," I said, rubbing my neck with a half-laugh that came out strangled. "I don’t know jack about this stuff. She just said ’surprise me’ and... yeah. Here I am, sweating bullets over rubber dicks. Feels weird as hell."

Layla’s laugh rang easy, hand waving it off as she scooped up a pink one from the pile—seven inches straight, veined subtle, a soft curve at the tip, base flared wide for grip. Looked solid, not intimidating, skin-toned silicone that flexed just right in her palm. "This one’s a crowd-pleaser. Realistic feel, good suction if she wants wall fun, and the vibe’s got seven speeds—starts whisper-quiet, ramps to ’wake the neighbors.’ Won’t overwhelm her, but it’ll get the job done. Thirty bucks, batteries included."

I nodded quick, fishing out my wallet like it burned. "Sold. That’ll... do it."

She rang it up smooth, sliding it into a plain black bag with a wink. "Good luck, champ. Tell her to start slow—lube’s your best friend. And hey, if it flops, bring it back. We’ve got returns on toys."

"Really?"

"Hey, all for our customers."

"Thanks," I muttered, awkward as a handshake with an ex, snatching the bag and bolting for the door before more questions hit. Bell jingled again behind me, cool air slapping my face like freedom.

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Quest Completed

Title: Stick

Reward: 50 EXP

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Finally, this damn quest was over. Phew.

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Name: Evan Marlowe

Age: 21

Height: 180 cm

Weight: 72 kg

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Level: 5

EXP: 406 / 457

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—

The traffic had been brutal. By the time we reached the summer house, the clock read eight. The sun was long gone, dark clouds churning overhead while drizzle tapped softly against the windshield.

I eased the car into the front garden and yanked up the handbrake. Jasmine was still half-asleep in the passenger seat, shoes on the floor, while Tessa sat in the back, hunched over her phone.

When she finally looked up and saw the house, her eyes widened. The phone went straight into her pocket.

"Wow," she breathed. "This is... wow."

"Right?" I grinned. "Massive."

Jasmine stirred with a groggy yawn. "Oh... we’re here already?"

"Yup," I said. "Come on."

She rubbed her eyes, turned her head, and froze. "Holy crap. Whoa."

I chuckled, got out, and went around to pop the trunk. The girls climbed out, stretching their legs. Just then, the front door swung open and Kim appeared, one hand on the frame, the other waving.

"Welcome!" she called. "Dinner’s ready. You guys are late."

"Hey!" Jasmine called back. "This house is huuuge!"

"It is," Kim laughed. "Wait till you see inside."