The Lonely Wife of a Remote Village
Rachel clutched her trembling arms, trying to calm her nerves, but the memory of his suffocating gaze made it impossible to find peace.
He really is... still watching me...
Blessed with exceptional beauty since childhood, Rachel was both accustomed and highly sensitive to the gaze of men. The young man who had paid her husband for a place to stay was pretending otherwise, but his eyes were practically licking every inch of her body.
He... wants me...
Her husband constantly mistreated her, raising his hand against her and calling her a useless bitch. When she scraped by doing odd jobs for the other villagers, the local men would leer at her with filthy eyes, whispering crude jokes and mocking her behind her back.
Their stares held nothing but insult and contempt. Before coming to this village, Rachel had been the second daughter of a fairly wealthy commoner family. But after their marriage, once their entire fortune was drained, her husband turned cold and neglectful. The villagers, who had always resented her wealthy background, subjected her to a relentless, agonizing scorn.
She had tried to persuade her husband to leave this village countless times. But he would dismiss her like a foolish child, asking how they could possibly survive outside the village he had lived in since birth. It sickened her. She had abandoned her own lifelong home out of love to spend years in this miserable place, yet he treated her like an immature brat. His callousness cut her to the quick.
Their life hadn't always been this way.
Before her husband was crippled in an accident, Rachel's married life had been perfect. Her dowry had provided a comfortable cushion, and her husband made a decent living as a herb gatherer. But one day, after a petty argument, Rachel had kept whining because he didn't seem to understand her feelings. To appease her, her husband set off into the mountains to pick the flowers he used to give her every single day when they were courting.
However, climbing carelessly, her husband slipped on mud loosened by the previous day's rain and tumbled down the mountainside. Half a day later, sensing something was wrong, Rachel climbed the mountain with the village guards. By the time they found him, it was already too late.
His twisted ankle and limbs had been tangled in tree roots, leaving him completely helpless and unable to move. After they brought him down to the village, the local physician delivered a devastating death sentence: he would be a cripple for the rest of his life.
From that day on, her husband's attitude changed completely.
A man who had lived his entire life as a herb gatherer, now a cripple—how was he supposed to make a living? Learning a new trade would be difficult for anyone, let alone a disabled man. Overnight, he fell from being the village's reliable provider to a useless, burdensome nuisance.
Blaming Rachel's childish tantrums for ruining his life, he began to communicate with his fists rather than words.
On days when his lust flared, he would try to take her by force. When Rachel refused to sleep with him because of his violent temper, she was beaten more brutally than she ever had been in her entire life.
After that, her husband never touched her again. He simply took what little money they had, spent it at the brothels, and drowned his sorrows in alcohol day after day.
Rachel closed her eyes tightly, trying to empty her mind of her wretched past.
Prostitution. She had always feared her ruined husband might force her into it eventually, but she never imagined it would happen so suddenly—like a spark catching dry straw—leaving her alone in the house with a strange man in the blink of an eye.
She guided the young man, who was looking around the room, to a seat. Placing their remaining bottle of wine and two cups on the table, she sat down across from him.
She had set the table to comfort herself, rationalizing that she had no choice but to deal with him. Yet, as their conversation flowed, her mind began to shift.
"The village I visited before had a square surrounded by flowers. They were beautiful, golden blooms. Have you ever seen them, Rachel?"
"Do you mean the ones with petals shaped like the sun?"
"Ah! So you do know them."
"They're my favorite. On cloudless days, lying in a field of those flowers under the warm sun... that was the happiest moment of my day. It's my fondest childhood memory..."
"If I had known, I would have plucked one for you. They really were magnificent."
Gazing intently at her, he slowly slid his hand across the table until it was just a hair's breadth from the back of hers.
In the past, she would have been angered or repulsed by such an obvious attempt to seduce her. But with her self-esteem utterly shattered by her husband's neglect and the villagers' contempt, his deliberate pursuit felt strangely thrilling. She found herself naturally drawn to him.
Even though I've fallen so low, there is still someone who desires me.
It was different from the lecherous glares of the villagers. Theirs were filthy looks that treated her like a toy to be used and discarded. His gaze, though burning with raw lust, held a flicker of genuine passion—a shred of respect she had never received from the locals. It shook her to the core.
Her husband would undoubtedly force her to sell her body after tonight.
Once he tasted the easy money, she would be dragged down to become the village plaything. The local wives would brand her a homewrecking whore, and she wouldn't even be able to get basic chores to survive.
The brave young woman who had once left her family home to spend her life with the man she loved was long gone.
Endless violence and omnipresent humiliation had been more than enough to extinguish her spirit. Yet, beneath the cold ashes, a tiny ember of courage—one she hadn't even known existed—still flickered. And Rachel resolved to seize this final opportunity, no matter what.
She would do as her husband wished. She would give her body to this young man, spend the night with him, and flatter him to extract whatever she could to escape this village. Seeing how carelessly he had tossed a pouch containing at least thirty silver coins, he surely had more. If she could secure a portion of it for herself, she could flee to another village, or perhaps even the city.
Rachel realized her body had stopped trembling. In fact, the fear was gone, replaced by a slow, rising heat. As they spoke, the young man, who had been playfully teasing her, began to make his desires blatantly clear, no longer bothering to hide his lust.
"You know, I caught a glimpse of the bedroom, and the bed is much larger than I expected. It looks big enough for three people, let alone two..."
His hand had already claimed hers. Stroking her fingers like a slithering snake, he laced his fingers with hers, his grip tightening like iron roots. Her chest tightened with a suffocating mix of tension and excitement, and she worried he might hear the frantic pounding of her heart.
Gulp.
Rachel closed her eyes tight. It was time to make her choice.
"...Then, why don't we go try it out?"
Just as I expected, a desperate Rachel chose to throw herself into my arms. I made no effort to hide my gaze, staring openly at her deep, voluptuous cleavage as we talked. Though she initially averted her eyes in fear, she soon squeezed my hand back, signaling her consent.
Screeech—
Clink!
I stood up from my chair and pulled her toward me with a firm tug. Rachel yielded helplessly to my strength. Wrapping my free arm around her waist, I pressed her lush, mature body flush against mine. The overturned cup spilled the last drops of wine onto the table, but I was past caring. Unable to hold back any longer, I leaned in close.
Our first kiss was gentle. I pecked at her lips, brushed my cheek against her blushing face, and kissed her again.
Slurp.
I licked her lips, tasting the rich aroma of wine. Parting her lips, I sucked on them hungrily. Rachel, who had been timidly responding, slowly opened her eyes, parted her teeth, and slid her tongue out to meet mine.
I tangled my tongue with hers while grinding my swollen crotch against her pussy. Since Rachel was shorter than me, the sensation of looming over her only heightened my arousal. I wedged my leg between hers to force them apart, rubbing my chest against her heavy breasts. Her stiff nipples scraped enticingly against my chest.
"Mph... ah... mm..."
Growing bolder, Rachel began to suck on my lips as if she wanted to devour me. The sight of her small mouth working so eagerly was incredibly erotic. I cupped her head in both hands and kissed her deeply, drinking her in. Strands of saliva escaped our lips, trailing down her chin and onto her collarbone. The sweet, wine-scented saliva drove me wild.
After a frantic, breathless exchange, we parted our lips by unspoken agreement. Rachel's flushed face, glistening lips, and dazed, wandering eyes made her look utterly ravishing.
It must have been a long time since she had been kissed like this; even though we had only been grinding against each other, her pussy was already soaking wet. My own crotch, drenched in her juices, throbbed so intensely it was almost painful. I grabbed her plump buttocks and ran my fingers over her skin. For a country woman, her skin was remarkably soft.
"Shall we head to the bed now?"
The aggressive woman who had just tried to devour my lips was gone, replaced once more by a shy, maiden-like Rachel. Nodding softly, she turned around and walked toward the closed bedroom door, her hips swaying enticingly with every step.
Then, casting a bashful glance back at me, she grabbed the hem of her dress with both hands and slowly pulled it up. Beneath it lay a magnificent view: her plump, juicy thighs and buttocks, with glistening wetness dripping from her cleft and running down her inner thighs.
I strode forward, wrapping my arms around her from behind as she gave a playful, mock-resistant squirm, and licked the nape of her neck.
"Ah...!"
Rachel kept walking, her hands still holding her dress high. I extended my middle finger and lightly stroked her wet slit. Shivering at the touch, she parted her legs slightly to give me better access, continuing her slow march forward.
"Mnh... ah...!"
The sight of Rachel waddling forward with her legs parted was both amusing and incredibly arousing. I kept teasing her, running my finger along her folds. Her twitching, juice-dripping slit parted like a hungry baby bird, practically begging to be filled.
"Haa..."
Playing with her as we walked, we finally reached the bedroom. Stepping away from my teasing finger, Rachel draped her upper body over the edge of the bed, presenting her soaking wet pussy directly to me.
"There's a local delicacy you absolutely must try when you visit our village..."
"It's incredibly fresh. The juices just keep flowing."
"Ahhn!"
Slurp, slurp...
Burying my face in Rachel's crotch, I lapped at her juices like a thirsty dog. I flicked her clitoris with my tongue, making her squirt another gush of wetness. I took her plump folds into my mouth, sucking and chewing on them. The fleshy texture was so satisfying that I kept suckling, but her clitoris kept brushing against my teeth as if demanding attention. I parted my lips slightly and gave it a firm nip.
"Ohhh! Ah... ah! You mustn't bite there...!"
Now that I had gotten a taste, it was time to really pleasure her. I slid my tongue directly into her tight opening. Surprised by the intrusion, her walls clamped down on my tongue, though as expected of a married woman, it wasn't an impossibly tight grip. I started by flicking my tongue up and down, thrusting it deep inside. Only when I pushed as far as I could go did her walls squeeze me in earnest.
As she squirted yet another wave of juices, I pulled my face away and looked up. Feeling the sticky wetness on my skin, I used the hem of Rachel's dress to wipe my face. Rachel lay sprawled on the bed, her legs spread wide, drool pooling at the corner of her mouth. Her legs, which had been supporting her, had long since lost their strength, leaving her knees red from kneeling on the floor.
Seeing Rachel completely undone by a pleasure she hadn't felt in years only fueled my lust. I had initially thought of this as a quick fling, but seeing her submit so willingly and enjoy it this much made me realize that ravishing her all night would be incredibly rewarding.
The night was still young. By now, Rachel's husband would be at the tavern, drinking himself into a stupor, with no intention of returning home tonight. I hauled Rachel's limp body up and threw her onto the mattress.
Bounce.
"I can't... take it anymore...! Hurry... please, hurry...!"
It seemed Rachel's switch had been flipped. All hesitation was gone. Staring hungrily at my bulging crotch, she spread her legs wide and begged. Despite how thoroughly I had just licked her clean, her twitching slit was already weeping fresh juices at the mere thought of the cock about to stretch her open.
"Well, since you're begging so nicely, I have no choice."
I unbuckled my belt and let my trousers drop. Rachel's jaw slackened at the sight. Even by my own standards, my cock was perfect—long, thick, and rock-hard. In this godforsaken world, this cock of mine had been more than enough to make a decent living.
"Put it in... please, put it in...!"
The teasing foreplay had completely erased the demure, fearful Rachel. In her place lay a bitch driven mad by the prospect of a real cock for the first time in years, thrusting her pussy forward and begging for it.
"That's no way to ask for a favor."
At my stern tone, Rachel's eyes widened as if she had briefly snapped back to reality. But she quickly closed them again, pulling her legs even wider apart to expose her dripping slit, and cried out.
"Please... please bestow your hard cock upon my filthy pussy...! I beg of you...!"
It wasn't the most creative plea, but since she hadn't been properly trained yet, her vocabulary was bound to be a bit plain. I could teach her that later. What mattered was that Rachel, who had been so guarded and terrified when we first met, was now begging me to ram my cock inside her.
The long, decadent night I had been anticipating since the moment I laid eyes on her was finally about to begin.