Gloomy Pure Love (2)
The woman bowed her upper body even deeper where she knelt.
Beneath the dense bangs that covered her eyes entirely, her lips — flushed red with shame and arousal — trembled uncontrollably.
Carefully, she brought her nose close to the man's nape, beside his collarbone.
Because she had spent the entire day crouched and hiding in the dirt pit beneath the wooden floor, the hem of the man's clothes was steeped in a musty smell of soil and sweat baked in by the blazing sun.
The thick, musky scent of a male.
Inhaling that breath deep into her lungs, she ran her quivering tongue across her lips.
Then she drew air in through her nose and drank in the smell.
"Mmh... haah.... It smells... it smells so good...."
Lewd murmurs spilled out through the gap in her lips.
The moment the man's sweat filled her nostrils, hot arousal welled up uncontrollably from between her thighs, where they had been obediently pressed together, and began to spread.
With trembling hands she groped at her chest and slowly undid the ties of her hanbok; the loose collar spread open to both sides, and her enormous, straining breasts spilled out in full.
Then she carefully drew over the dirt-stained, worn garment the man had removed and buried her entire flushed face in it.
"Haah... mmh...! The dust and the smell of sweat together... it's so delicious my head is spinning... it's an addictive scent..."
Drinking in the collar soaked thoroughly with the man's scent, her right hand slid past her stomach and down toward the entrance of her pussy.
Squelch.
The instant her fingertips touched her drenched slit, a sticky, obscene wet sound broke the silence.
The man's breathing and scent alone had already soaked her completely, clear juices sliding down the insides of her thighs.
"Nnh..... haah.... Touching my pussy right beside your sleeping face, dear farmer...... it's just the best....."
She spread her knees wider and sank deep against the floor, pushing two fingers deep into her glistening channel.
Squelch, shlick—
"I... I really shouldn't be doing this... but it feels too good, I can't stop..."
"B-but I'm not hurting anyone, and I'm doing it alone, so a little longer should be fine... right...? Hehe.."
Her brief moment of self-justification lasted only seconds before the narrow walls of her sex clenched around her knuckles, and she surrendered herself fully to the pleasure that came crashing in.
"I-it's just... how am I supposed to stop when it feels this good..."
"It's... it's not my fault... mmh. It's because the farmer is just too adorable... especially today, more than ever..."
As she touched herself, she replayed this morning's scene in her mind.
Haah.... When I flung that water jar lid wide open this morning, I really thought I'd been caught and that was the end of me......
Normally he was just an innocent farmer who accepted his meals without a clue, mindlessly shoveling down his rice.
But today, of all days, that same man had radiated a strangely piercing intensity, tracked down her hiding place, and wrenched open the jar as if to seize her by the throat — and in that moment, his wild, cruel eyes had seemed ready to crush her like a mere insect.
When he had hoisted his arm — veins standing out, fist clenched tight around the stone — what she had tasted wasn't terror, but a pleasure that set her every drop of blood boiling.
"Those eyes.... they were so, so lewd.... If he'd crushed me with those huge hands of his, strangled me senseless... how good would that have felt... mmh, ngh....!"
So when the man had finally let out a sigh and set the stone down, far from feeling relieved to be alive, she had been forced to tremble — with disappointment and lust.
And then at noon... fufu, so adorably foolish.....
Slurp, shlick—! Squelch...!
She pushed in a third finger and relentlessly worked the deepest part of her walls, and vulgar wet sounds filled the small room. Rubbing her face against the hem of cloth soaked in the man's sweat, she stuck out her tongue and lapped at it like licking bare skin.
To think he had bellowed that he was heading out to the fields to drive her away, only to slip not through the gate but crawl into the dirt beneath the wooden floor and crouch there.
To sneak a look at her, he had glued his eye to the hole in the paper door, groaning as if his back would break under the scorching sun, shifting about with legs cramping — and she had watched every second of it through the gap in the water jar's lid.
"Just to catch a glimpse of me...... he buried himself under the floor all day, aching and groaning.... How adorable he was, so desperate and fidgeting in his hiding spot......"
While she savored that idiotic stakeout he'd staged just to spy on her, the cold water inside the jar had warmed to tepid from the sinister heat pouring off her body.
"Ngh...! Nnh, mmh...! Farmer..... please let me smell you more..... I can't live without this scent anymore...!"
Rocking her hips at a furious pace and jamming her fingers in and out, frothy juices dripped down her wrist, splattering onto the worn linoleum. She wanted nothing more than to crawl up onto the quilt right that instant, gently stroke the sleeping man's cheek awake, and beg him with those strong hands around her own throat to pound her without mercy.
But she couldn't. Because something like her was nothing more than a disgusting bug secretly living in the corner of a water jar.
If he ever found out she was a perverted monster harboring such filthy, depraved fantasies, he would surely cast her out with eyes full of revulsion and horror.
For a dirty female like me.... to dare reach for the farmer.... I deserve punishment... sob, ngh....
The self-destructive fear and shame of possibly being abandoned swirled within her — and ironically, that wretched sensation squeezed her walls tighter still, detonating a heat she could no longer control.
"So... for now, this much is enough... just touching myself beside him is more than enough...."
Squelch, shlick... squelch....
One hand worked her pussy while the other kneaded her own breast, her masturbation growing ever more intense.
"Farmer... my farmer....."
It wasn't that she hadn't considered how dangerous it was to talk to him while masturbating at his side — but savoring that thrill made it all the more stimulating, so she didn't care.
After working herself thoroughly, her head buzzed and the sensation surged up from below.
"Nnghh.... I... I'm cumminggg...."
Squirt—! Squirt! Squiiirt....
Her inner walls convulsed at the peak of climax, crushing and milking her fingers until they ached, and hot juices erupted like a fountain, soaking the floorboards through.
"Haah..... masturbating while staring at the farmer's face... th-this is the besttt.... I could... never quit this...."
Her whole body shuddered in the afterglow of pleasure as she slowly lowered her head, which had been thrown back.
Through the gaps in her bangs, her glazed eyes stared blankly into the air, and from her parted lips, sticky drool ran down her jawline.
"Haa... haa.... ngh....."
For a long while she lay there, panting and boneless, until finally she carefully lapped her own juices from her fingers. A briny yet sweet scent tingled in her nose.
Then she looked down at the man curled up in his quilt and saw that the juices she'd just sprayed had splattered onto a corner of his worn trousers, leaving them darkly soaked.
Oh... I got it on him....
Crawling haltingly across the floor, she knelt at the man's feet.
"I'm sorry.... dear farmer... something dirty got on you.... I'll... I'll clean it up for you...."
Slurp, lick...
Each lick melted her brain with the sweetness, and even after the fountain she'd just released, a deep pressure coiled tight again in her lower belly.
.....
"J-just once more... just one more time...."
Squelch—
"Ahh.... it really is... the bestt... ♥"
Her resolve to stop after just one more round ended, in the end, with two, then three consecutive climaxes.
Only after writhing soundlessly on the floor of the room again and again did the woman, utterly drained of strength, finally manage to grasp the last fraying thread of her reason.
For cleanup, she first fetched a handkerchief and began carefully wiping away the evidence splattered around the man's quilt and across the floor.
The musky smell will linger a little... but the smell of food will cover that much, so it's fine..... hehe.
Partly as thanks to the adorable farmer who had served as her delicious side dish for masturbation, and partly to smother the lewd odor saturating the room, she slipped quietly into the kitchen and, with practiced hands, began preparing breakfast.
Cock-a-doodle-doo—!
As dawn broke and a rooster's crow rang out across the distance, I blinked my gummed-up eyelids open.
"Ugh... aaargh....."
Every joint in my body creaked and groaned.
After a full day spent crouched in the hard-packed dirt beneath the floor, my back felt as if someone had dropped a heavy boulder on it — stiff and aching through and through.
"Going at it like that for an entire day was really pushing it after all..... ugh...."
As I muttered and scratched my head, a familiar, savory smell struck my nose.
The sweetness of freshly steamed white rice, still fluffy and warm, and the rich aroma of a deeply simmered soybean paste stew.
I glanced toward the kitchen, and there it was — on the table that had stood empty right up until I fell asleep last night, today's breakfast sat neatly arranged once again, as demure as could be.
So she really does come and go at night.
I rested my chin in my hand and stared blankly at the table.
No matter how tired I'd been yesterday, the fact that I'd slept like the dead without catching so much as a hint of her presence was pathetic enough to draw a dry laugh out of me.
Still, I'd managed to confirm a few things for certain, so that was something, I supposed.
For starters, she's.... not hostile, I don't think. At the very least, she didn't kill me in my sleep.
And she definitely shows up at night.
I picked up my spoon and heaped a big mouthful of piping-hot rice in. The nutty sweetness that bloomed with each chew filled my empty morning stomach.
Whatever else is true, tonight I have to get my hands on some real answers.
If I'm lucky, I might even find out something about this godforsaken world.
With that thought — loud enough, surely, for the snail bride to overhear — I declared:
"Thank you for the meal."