Over the next little while, Yang Haoran played games with a distracted air, getting KO’d several times in a row by Zhou Shiwen’s character. Even Zhou Shiwen could tell that his mind was clearly wandering toward Haoran’s soon-to-be Mai Shiranui cosplay.
This left Zhou Shiwen with mixed feelings, a tangle of conflicting emotions.
After one match wrapped up, Zhou Shiwen hesitated for a moment before turning to Yang Haoran and broaching the subject himself.
“Haoran, do you really want to see my mom cosplaying as Mai Shiranui that badly?” Zhou Shiwen watched Yang Haoran’s expression closely. He saw him freeze for a second, then fall silent before replying, “Yeah, I kinda do want to see Aunt Shen’s cosplay. Shiwen, we’ve been buddies since we were kids, so I won’t hide it from you. Plus, I’ve always had those kinds of feelings for Aunt Shen, you know, like…”
Yang Haoran trailed off, unsure if he should spell it out, but Zhou Shiwen cut him off.
“You’re holding back because of me, right?” Zhou Shiwen’s eyes bored into him, his face darkening a bit, though he kept his emotions in check.
Since Yang Haoran had already started, he figured he might as well lay it all out. He gave a soft “mm-hmm” in agreement.
Truth be told, it wasn’t really about Shiwen’s opinion. It was more that Yang Haoran felt uneasy about treating Aunt Shen like a Bitch. After all, she was Shiwen’s mom. Humiliating her like that put her in a position beneath even a lover—more like a sex slave, mother beast, or meat toilet.
They were friends who’d grown up together, their bond deeper than most. Yet here was Yang Haoran, openly admitting he had designs on Zhou Shiwen’s mother. Normally, that should’ve sparked pure rage in Zhou Shiwen. But thanks to his twisted cuckold fetish for his own mom, his anger mixed with a strange sense of anticipation, leaving him speechless for the moment.
After a long pause, Zhou Shiwen said in a low voice, “My mom’s always been good to you, but she might not feel the same way. Let’s face it—we’re just kids to her. She might not even see you that way.”
Zhou Shiwen had wrestled with himself, and in the end, his budding fetish lost out to reason.
Yang Haoran got the message: Shiwen wanted him to drop the idea.
What he didn’t know was that he and Shen Qing had already progressed to confirming their master-servant bond. And he had no clue that Aunt Shen herself had driven things to this point—with his last bit of snitching unwittingly playing right into her hands.
Yang Haoran thought it over. He’d already dropped enough of a bombshell on Shiwen; spilling more right now might be too much for him to handle. So he said, “Yeah, right now it’s just my one-sided crush on Aunt Shen. I haven’t said anything to her about it. Don’t sweat it—just pretend I never brought it up.”
Zhou Shiwen gave Yang Haoran a long, deep look. He knew his mom harbored the same feelings for Haoran. The leads in Bitch and Master were basically her and Haoran.
But he wasn’t about to say that. Zhou Shiwen nodded. “Fine, pretend you never did.”
The awkward topic hung in the air between them afterward, neither one speaking as they quietly kept gaming. The only sound was the sharper crackle of buttons on their controllers.
Ten or so minutes later, the bedroom door swung open again. In walked a tall, stunning beauty with peach-blossom allure and scandalously revealing clothes, a smile playing on her lips.
Yang Haoran and Zhou Shiwen turned to look.
From Yang Haoran’s view, Aunt Shen was decked out in the exact Fist King Fighter outfit Mai Shiranui wore. Her glossy black hair was swept up into a high, spirited ponytail that gave her an air of bold elegance.
Her towering peaks were mostly wrapped in red-and-white fabric, squeezed into a bottomless chasm of cleavage. The full, heavy mounds strained against the thin material, ready to burst, quivering with every breath. The low neckline couldn’t contain their majestic swell, and her creamy skin gleamed like polished jade, radiating an intoxicating luster. Their massive, ripe shape resembled twin king peaches, so tempting that anyone would yearn to bury their face between them, to lick, bite, and savor their juicy sweetness.
The red strips of Mai Shiranui’s cosplay clung tightly to her huge breasts like blooming red roses adorning Aunt Shen’s seductive charms. The stark contrast of white and red danced like sparks in the snow, making her snowy globes even more alluring and bewitching, stirring the heart.
Those quivering giants were supported only by two thin straps around her pale neck, swaying precariously as if in a storm.
From her slender waist—barely a handspan around—the curve swelled dramatically into thighs and a massive, grinding-wheel-sized, plump rear that jutted out provocatively.
Red fabric draped from her waist down between her thighs, barely shielding the intoxicating valley below. But the skimpy material left so little to the imagination that the lush sides of her hips and thick thighs were on full display, their tender, snow-white skin so visually succulent you could almost feel their silky, meaty give.
Huge breasts, tiny waist, fat ass, all framed by what was less a outfit and more a few scraps of red-and-white cloth—this sculpted an S-curve figure on a peerlessly seductive, worldly-wise beauty radiating irresistible allure.
As if wary of flashing too much, Aunt Shen moved with graceful poise, gliding up to Yang Haoran. Meeting his burning gaze, she flashed a charming smile that brimmed with a hundred seductions.
In that instant, to Yang Haoran, no landscape could rival the beauty of her every glance and gesture. Her graceful allure set his heart racing.
“Do you like it?” Shen Qing gazed at Yang Haoran, her eyes misty with allure, her breath sweet as orchids. Those enchanting, watery eyes swirled with a hypnotic pull, eager to claim the boy’s very soul.
Every move dripped with feminine wiles, her mature beauty on full, intoxicating display. Yang Haoran felt his blood boiling over. Without hesitation, he answered, “I like it.”
His words rang out firm and resolute.
The fire and restlessness deep in Yang Haoran’s eyes distilled into those simple words, striking straight to Shen Qing’s heart. She was pleased. She smiled.
As the saying goes, a man will die for a true friend, and a woman dresses to please her admirer. Nothing captured it better.
Zhou Shiwen was stunned too. It was the first time his mom’s outrageously sexy body had been laid bare like this before him—a one-in-a-million stunner, and she was eyeing his peer. In that moment, even he felt a pang of envy toward Yang Haoran.
What made him worthy? What gave him the right to his mom’s nation-toppling beauty?
If this were ancient times, Zhou Shiwen thought, his mom would’ve been a kingdom-ruining siren, a Daji of old.
Yang Haoran stared at the tantalizing Aunt Shen before him. He gulped hard, his mouth dry as dust, his little brother already stirring to life. If Shiwen weren’t there, he’d have whipped out his cock and plunged it into Aunt Shen’s slutty pussy right then, pounding this bewitching vixen mercilessly.
