A/N: I'm going to say it now, this story wouldn't last 20 chapters and if it did it wouldn't make sense as there's limit of how could this story could stretch with only Zenith around.
However, if I did add more character aside from Zenith for example like Lilia, Hilda and Ghislaine. I would be able to write another storyline.
But of course men that would fuck them wouldn't be Mike, well Lilia is debatable but anyway it's completely unrealistic for Mike to have a harem at least in my point of view.
He just got lucky with Zenith and others wouldn't be as easy to corrupt. As he's just a mere hunter of a village.
So, should I make a compilation of NTR about the MILF's or other female characters of this series?
Let me know.
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Two days had passed since their last frantic encounter in the empty upstairs room of the Wheat Sheaf Inn.
Zenith Greyrat moved through her morning chores with the same gentle efficiency that defined her days—humming softly as she hung laundry on the line behind the house, the golden Asuran sun warming her fair skin.
Her long blonde ponytail swayed with each practiced movement, the white halterneck corset and khaki skirt she favored hugging her voluptuous figure in the way that always drew quiet admiration from the village women and lingering glances from the men.
She was the picture of a devoted wife and mother: warm smiles for Rudeus as he practiced his magic in the yard, a kind word for Lilia while they prepared lunch together, and a forgiving kiss on Paul's cheek when he returned from morning training.
Yet beneath the composed surface, her body still hummed with the secret thrill of that tavern room—Mike's thick cock buried deep while she knelt and swallowed every drop, the way her walls had fluttered around him in desperate need.
She told herself it was over. 'Truly over this time.'
The prayers at her small Milis shrine had been sincere: gentle pleas for strength, a quiet 'Milis, watch over my family.'
Guilt nibbled at the edges, yes—a soft whisper in the back of her mind—but her body remembered the delicious game. The risk.
The way forbidden touches made her pulse race in ways Paul's familiar affection never quite matched anymore.
She denied it even to herself, but the craving lingered like a sweet, secret spell.
She was folding the last shirt when a familiar voice carried from the front gate.
"Paul! You home, friend?"
Mike stood at the entrance to the Greyrat property, a freshly dressed rabbit slung over one broad shoulder, its fur still dusted with morning dew from the forest.
The young hunter looked every bit the rugged provider—leather vest stretched across his muscular chest, scars peeking from beneath rolled sleeves, dark eyes crinkled in an easy smile.
He had chosen the rabbit carefully: a plump one, perfect for stew, an innocent excuse wrapped in neighborly goodwill. No one would question a hunter dropping off game for the village hero.
Paul stepped out onto the porch, wiping his hands on a rag, his messy brown hair tousled from sparring. "Mike! Been a while. That for us?"
He grinned wide, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. "Come in, come in. Zenith's just finishing up. We'll throw it in the pot tonight—Lilia makes a mean rabbit stew."
Zenith's heart skipped as she heard the name. She smoothed her skirt, adjusted her corset with steady hands, and stepped around the side of the house with her usual warm, welcoming smile—the same gentle expression she wore when greeting village children or healing scrapes.
"Mike," she said softly, voice carrying that elegant, slightly airy lilt so typical of her. "How kind of you. Please, come inside. I'll put on some tea."
The living room was cozy and sunlit, the low table already set with simple cups.
Rudeus peeked in from the stairs, brown hair messy, then waved shyly before vanishing again to practice. Lilia moved quietly in the kitchen, ever the shadow.
Paul and Mike settled on the floor cushions, chatting easily about the latest boar sightings and Paul's old adventuring tales.
Zenith knelt gracefully to pour the tea, her full breasts pressing against the corset as she leaned forward.
That was when the first hidden touch came.
Paul turned to call toward the kitchen—"Lilia, extra salt for the stew?"—and in that brief moment, Mike's large, callused hand slid beneath the low table and rested boldly on Zenith's thigh.
His fingers squeezed the soft flesh through her skirt, high enough that his thumb brushed the inner seam, perilously close to the heat already building between her legs.
Zenith's breath hitched, blue eyes widening for a split second, but her motherly smile never faltered.
She set the teapot down with perfect composure, only the faint pink flush on her cheeks betraying her.
Her thighs pressed together instinctively, trapping his hand for the briefest moment, savoring the spark.
Mike's smirk was hidden behind his teacup. When Paul stood to show off an old sword from the mantel, Mike leaned closer under the pretense of reaching for a biscuit.
His hand brushed the underside of her heavy breast, palm grazing the stiffening nipple through fabric and corset.
Zenith bit her lower lip, a soft, involuntary shiver running through her.
The denial flickered—'I should stop this right now.'—but her body leaned ever so slightly into the touch, savoring the secret heat.
Later, while Paul stepped outside to check on Rudeus's sword swings, Mike followed Zenith into the narrow hallway toward the kitchen.
The moment they were out of sight, he pressed her gently against the wall, one arm braced beside her head.
His lips found the sensitive spot just below her ear—a teasing, wet lick that traced the curve of her neck, followed by a light suckle that made her knees weaken.
"Mmm—Mike, not here," Zenith murmured, her voice breathy and flustered, one hand resting lightly on his broad chest as if to push him away.
But her fingers curled into his vest instead, holding him there for two heartbeats longer. The guilt was a quiet murmur—'This is Paul's home… our home'—yet the thrill of it made her wetter, her pussy clenching with needy heat. 'It's just a game. A harmless little game. I'll stop after today.'
Paul's voice called from the yard: "Mike, come see this form Rudeus is working on!"
Mike pulled back with a low chuckle, wiping the faint trace of saliva from her neck with his thumb.
Zenith smoothed her hair, cheeks pink, and returned to the living room with her usual gentle grace, as if nothing had happened.
The afternoon wore on. Conversation flowed—hunts, village gossip, Paul's half-hearted plans to take Rudeus on a short trip.
Zenith served snacks, refilled cups, her movements warm and motherly.
But every chance Mike found, he stole another touch: a palm sliding along her thigh when she knelt to adjust the table, fingers brushing the swell of her breast while reaching for the teapot, another quick lick to her neck when they passed in the hallway on the way to the washroom.
By late afternoon, the rabbit had been handed off to Lilia, and Paul was showing Mike the storage attic access through the upstairs hallway. "That leak in the roof's been bothering Zenith. Think you could take a quick look while you're here? Hunter's eyes are sharp."
It was the perfect excuse. Zenith's heart pounded as she led the way up the narrow pull-down ladder, her skirt swishing, Mike close behind.
The attic was dim and dusty, slanted beams letting in thin shafts of sunlight through small vents, old boxes and forgotten adventuring gear stacked neatly.
The moment the trapdoor clicked shut below them, Mike pulled her into his arms.
Their kiss was rough and hungry, like newlyweds on a honeymoon—tongues dancing deeply, teeth nipping, breaths mingling in hot gasps.
Mike's hands roamed freely now, unlacing her corset with practiced fingers until her full, heavy breasts spilled free into the warm air.
He cupped them reverently at first, thumbs circling her pink nipples until they pebbled hard, then squeezed with just enough force to draw a soft moan from her throat.
"Mike…" Zenith whispered against his lips, her voice gentle and breathless, the denial soft but present. "We have to be quick… Paul might call up any moment…"
But her body arched into him, nipples aching for more, the thrill of the forbidden making her wetter than ever.
He lifted her effortlessly—strong hunter's arms sliding under her ass, palms gripping the perfect, rounded cheeks and spreading them slightly as he hoisted her up.
Zenith's legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, skirt bunched at her hips, panties pushed aside in one smooth motion.
His thick cock—already freed and rock-hard—rubbed along her soaked folds before he positioned the broad head at her entrance.
Then he lowered her onto him.
The stretch was exquisite, slow and deliberate at first—inch after thick inch sinking deep until he was buried to the hilt, the blunt head kissing her cervix with delicious pressure.
Zenith's head fell back, blonde ponytail brushing her exposed back, a quiet "Ahh…" escaping her as her walls fluttered and clenched around his girth, every vein dragging along her sensitive inner walls.
Mike began to move, carrying her entire weight with ease, bouncing her on his cock in deep, sensual thrusts.
Each drop of her body onto him sent jolts of white-hot pleasure through her core—her heavy breasts jiggling against his scarred chest, nipples dragging against leather with electric friction.
The wet *schlick-schlick-schlick* of her dripping pussy swallowing every inch filled the dusty attic, her juices coating his shaft and dripping down to soak his balls.
Their kisses never stopped—rough, honeymoon-hot, tongues battling as he fucked her standing in the middle of the attic.
Mike's hands kneaded her ass possessively, fingers digging into soft flesh, occasionally delivering a light, teasing slap that made her clench harder around him and moan into his mouth.
Zenith's hands clutched his shoulders, nails digging into muscle as she rolled her hips to meet every thrust, grinding her swollen clit against his pubic bone on the downstroke.
The angle was perfect—his thick cock dragging across that secret spot inside her again and again, building pressure that made her toes curl inside her boots.
Then—footsteps.
Heavy boots on the stairs below. Paul's voice called up cheerfully: "Mike? Zenith? Everything alright up there? Need a hand with those boxes?"
Zenith's eyes flew wide, heart slamming against her ribs like a war drum.
Pure adrenaline surged through her veins, sharpening every sensation.
She clamped a hand over her mouth, but Mike didn't stop.
He thrust deeper, grinding her clit against his pubic bone on every upstroke, his mouth claiming hers in a silencing kiss that swallowed her whimper.
The risk made her pussy gush around him, walls spasming wildly as her orgasm hovered just out of reach.
Every nerve felt alive—the rough drag of his cock, the slap of skin on skin now dangerously loud, the way her exposed breasts bounced with each bounce, nipples stiff and aching.
"J-just a moment, dear!" she called back, voice remarkably steady despite the thick cock pounding into her soaked depths. "Mike is… checking the beams!"
Paul's footsteps paused, then retreated with a laugh. "Take your time!"
The moment the sound faded, Mike growled against her neck and picked up the pace—bouncing her harder, faster, the wet slap of her ass meeting his thighs echoing through the attic.
Zenith buried her face in his shoulder, muffling her moans as pleasure coiled tighter than ever.
He shifted her slightly, angling so the head of his cock slammed perfectly against her cervix with every thrust, the pressure building into something mind-melting.
Her walls fluttered wildly, juices squirting faintly around his shaft with each deep plunge.
She came first—hard and sudden—body shuddering violently in his arms, pussy milking him in rhythmic, powerful waves that made her vision spark.
A fresh gush of slick soaked them both, dripping down his balls and onto the dusty floor.
Mike followed moments later, lifting her almost completely off his cock before slamming her down one final time.
He pulled out at the last second, and Zenith slid down his body to her knees, taking him into her mouth just as he erupted.
She swallowed every thick, hot rope with devoted, gentle sucks—tongue swirling the sensitive head, cheeks hollowing, milking him dry until he was spotless and twitching.
They dressed in hurried whispers, Zenith re-lacing her corset with flushed cheeks and a soft, satisfied smile.
The guilt was a quiet murmur now, easily pushed aside by the lingering warmth between her legs and the thrill still buzzing in her veins. 'Just this once more… for the excitement. Then I'll truly stop.'
As they descended the ladder, Zenith's gentle laugh rang out at something Mike said about the "roof beams," her blue eyes sparkling with that familiar warmth.
Paul clapped Mike on the back downstairs, none the wiser.
Rudeus ran up for a hug from his mother, and Zenith held him close, pressing a loving kiss to his brown hair.
But later that evening, as she lay beside Paul in their bed, the Milis pendant cool against her skin, Zenith's fingers traced idle circles on her thigh beneath the sheets.
The craving stirred again—gentle, insistent, delicious.
'Maybe one more visit to the tavern… just to say a proper goodbye.' She smiled softly in the dark, the game far from over.