Life as a stepmother was never peaceful. My husband's son from a previous marriage was a reclusive NEET with a perpetually withdrawn demeanor. Watching him, I felt a growing urge to do something—anything—to reach the depths of his soul. Day after day, I performed blowjobs on him, hoping to awaken something inside. But the day my husband died, his son suddenly said, "Dad's dead now, so let me have sex with you," throwing me into instant confusion. I tried to refuse, yet my pent-up, craving body betrayed me and accepted him—acting in ways I couldn't even understand myself. What changes would this bring to my heart and body...?