The front door clicked shut behind my husband, and just like that, the house felt ten times emptier.
He'd kissed me on the forehead like I was his sister instead of his wife. "Three months, Meguri. The project in Osaka is huge. I'll call when I can." No hug that lingered. No squeeze of my ass. No promise of what he'd do to me the second he got back. Just… business. Same as always. Our sex life had been dead for over a year now, and he didn't even pretend anymore. I stood there in the doorway wearing nothing but an oversized white tank top that barely contained my massive tits and a pair of tiny black shorts that rode up my ass, and he didn't even glance down once.
I watched the taxi disappear down the street, then let out a long breath. "Great. Three months of this empty house and my own fingers. Fantastic."
That's when the doorbell rang.
I opened it and there he was — Haruto. My sister's son. Eighteen. Skinny. Glasses perched on his nose. Wearing a plain white shirt and jeans that looked like they'd been washed a hundred times. A cheap backpack slung over one shoulder. He bowed politely, eyes fixed on the floor like a good little nerd.
"Aunt Meguri… thank you for letting me stay. I'll study hard and won't cause any trouble."
His voice was quiet. Respectful. Not a single glance at the way my heavy breasts strained against the thin fabric, nipples already slightly hard from the cool evening air. Most guys would have stared. Hell, most guys in my past — back when I was still a total Yariman in college — would have been drooling before they even said hello.
But not Haruto.
He just stepped inside, took off his shoes neatly, and asked, "Where should I put my things, Aunt?"
I felt something strange twist low in my stomach.
"Second floor, first room on the right," I said, smiling my sweetest smile and deliberately arching my back just a little so my tits pushed forward. The tank top shifted. The neckline dipped. One more inch and my fat pink nipples would've been on full display. "Make yourself at home, Haru-kun. I'll cook dinner tonight."
He nodded, still not looking. "Thank you. I'll start studying right away if that's okay."
And just like that, he disappeared up the stairs.
I stood in the hallway for a full ten seconds, blinking.
What the hell?
I'd spent twenty minutes in front of the mirror before he arrived — choosing the thinnest tank top I owned, skipping the bra completely, making sure my huge J-cup breasts sat high and heavy, the soft undercurve visible every time I moved. I'd even pinched my nipples a little so they'd poke through the fabric like two needy little points. I knew exactly what I looked like: a bored, horny housewife with a body built for sin.
And the little nerd hadn't even blinked.
My pussy gave a single, traitorous throb.
I shook my head and went to the kitchen. "He's just shy," I told myself. "First day. Give it time."
But the whole evening proved me wrong.
I made his favorite — tonkatsu and rice — and "accidentally" spilled a little sauce on my chest while serving him. The white tank top turned see-through in that one spot, the dark circle of my areola clearly visible. I laughed cutely and dabbed at it with a napkin, pushing my tits together so they jiggled obscenely.
"Oops~ Look at me, such a klutz."
Haruto kept his eyes glued to his plate. "It's delicious, Aunt Meguri. Thank you."
Not even a glance.
Later, when I "needed help" reaching a book on the top shelf, I stretched up on my tiptoes, back arched, ass pushed out, tank top riding up until the bottom curves of my bare breasts were completely exposed. I could feel the cool air on my skin. My nipples were rock hard now.
"Haru-kun, could you…?"
He stood up, politely reached past me, grabbed the book, and handed it over without ever letting his gaze drop below my chin.
"Here you go."
Then he sat back down and opened his textbook like nothing had happened.
By 9 PM I was losing my mind.
I'd changed into an even smaller tank top — basically a sports bra that was two sizes too small — and the shortest shorts I owned. Every time I walked past the living room where he was studying, I made sure to sway my hips, let my massive tits bounce freely, even "tripped" once so I had to catch myself on the table and nearly smother his face with my cleavage.
Nothing.
Not a single erection tenting his pants. Not a blush. Not even a stutter.
He just kept writing notes, mumbling formulas under his breath, completely focused.
I finally gave up and went to take a shower.
The second the hot water hit my skin I leaned against the tiles, one hand squeezing my left breast hard enough to leave marks, the other sliding between my legs. My pussy was soaked — not just wet, dripping. My clit was swollen and throbbing. I rubbed slow circles at first, then faster, biting my lip so I wouldn't moan too loud.
Why was this turning me on so much?
I'd fucked dozens of guys in my Yariman days. Big cocks, small cocks, rough guys, gentle guys — none of them ever ignored me. They all wanted me. Begged for me. Came in seconds just from looking at my tits.
But Haruto… this serious, poor, hardworking virgin… he looked at me like I was just his aunt. Like my body didn't exist.
And that indifference was making my cunt clench around nothing.
I pinched my nipple hard, imagining him finally snapping — grabbing my huge tits with both hands, burying his face between them, sucking and biting while I rode his cock.
A soft whimper escaped me.
"Fuck… what's wrong with me?"
I came quietly, legs shaking, but the orgasm felt empty. Like scratching an itch that wasn't really there.
Later that night I lay in bed wearing nothing but a silk robe that had fallen open, my massive breasts spilling out to the sides, nipples still sensitive. The house was silent except for the faint sound of Haruto's pen scratching on paper downstairs. He was still studying at midnight.
I slipped two fingers back between my slick folds, slowly pumping them in and out while my other hand kneaded one heavy tit, rolling the nipple between my fingers.
My mind kept circling the same question.
Why does his ignoring me feel so… good?
Is it just because I'm bored? Because my husband hasn't touched me in forever?
Or is there something about his pure, focused attitude that's waking up the old slut inside me?
I curled my fingers deeper, rubbing that spongy spot that always made me squirt, and whispered into the dark room:
"Haruto… you little nerd… why won't you look at my tits?"
My hips bucked. My pussy fluttered. Another orgasm was building — stronger this time.
I didn't know the answer yet.
But I knew one thing for sure.
Tomorrow I was going to push harder.
Because the way my body was reacting to his total indifference… it scared me.
And it turned me on more than anything had in years.
To be continued…
---