Almost finished with Zenith's corruption Lilia's next. I should probably change the title.
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The past week had brought an unusual surge of monsters to the fields and woods around Buena Village.
Goblins in greater numbers, a few stray wolves bold enough to approach the wheat, even rumors of a lone orc sighted near the river.
Paul Greyrat, as the village's unofficial guardian and former S-rank adventurer, had thrown himself into the work with his usual easy grin.
He patrolled from dawn until well after dark, organizing the other hunters and any man strong enough to hold a spear or sword.
Nights were long, meals irregular, and Zenith's gentle heart could not rest easy knowing her husband might go hungry while protecting everyone else.
So on the third evening of his overtime shifts, she decided to do something about it.
The kitchen smelled of hearty stew and fresh bread. Zenith moved with her usual graceful efficiency, blonde ponytail swaying as she packed a large woven basket.
There was more than enough for Paul and the handful of men with him tonight—thick rabbit-and-vegetable stew in a sealed pot, still warm, several loaves of crusty bread, a wheel of cheese, and a small flask of ale. It would be rude, she thought, to bring food only for her husband when others stood watch beside him.
"I'll be back soon," she told Rudeus, who was practicing magic at the table, his light brown hair falling into his eyes. She kissed the top of his head. "Be good for Lilia."
The forest path was quiet under the fading twilight, the trees tall and thick, their leaves rustling like whispers.
Zenith walked with the basket on her arm, cloak drawn modestly around her white halterneck corset and khaki skirt, tall black boots crunching softly on fallen leaves. The air carried the sharp scent of pine and damp earth.
The patrol camp was a simple clearing near the tree line, a small fire crackling, lanterns hung from branches.
Paul stood talking with three other men—two hunters and a farmer who could swing an axe. His messy brown hair was damp with sweat, sword at his hip.
"Zenith?" Paul turned, surprise lighting his face, then pure delight. "What are you doing out here, love? It's not safe—"
"I brought supper," she said softly, smiling that warm, motherly smile. "I worried you might not have eaten properly. And since you're all working so hard together… I made plenty."
Paul's grin widened. He pulled her close for a quick, grateful kiss on the cheek.
"You're an angel. Really." He took the basket and began unpacking, calling the others over. "Come on, lads—Zenith made enough for an army!"
The men thanked her warmly, voices full of appreciation as they passed around bowls and tore into the bread.
Zenith stood a little apart, hands folded, watching with quiet satisfaction. Then her eyes met Mike's across the fire.
He was leaning against a tree, bowl in hand, the firelight dancing over the scars on his arms and chest where his vest hung open.
Their gazes held for a heartbeat. A small, knowing smile curved both their lips—easy, familiar, the kind old friends might share over a shared joke. No one noticed.
Paul was laughing at one of the hunter's stories, spooning stew into his mouth. The others were too busy eating and talking to pay attention.
After the food was mostly gone and the men were wiping their bowls clean, Paul set his aside.
"I'll walk you back home," he said, already reaching for his sword belt. "It's too dangerous right now with the monsters moving closer."
Zenith opened her mouth to gently protest—she could manage the short distance—but Mike spoke first, voice casual and steady.
"I'll take her, Paul. I'm heading that way anyway to check the western snare line. No sense you leaving the patrol short-handed."
Paul hesitated, glancing between them. His brow furrowed for a second, the protective husband weighing the risk. But Mike was one of the best hunters in Buena, reliable, and the camp really did need every sword.
Finally Paul nodded. "Alright. Thanks, Mike. Straight home, love—don't linger."
"I won't," Zenith promised softly, touching Paul's arm with genuine affection.
She and Mike left the clearing together, walking side by side along the narrow forest path.
The firelight and voices faded behind them. Trees closed in, moonlight filtering through the canopy in silver patches. For a few minutes they walked in silence, boots crunching leaves.
Then Mike's hand brushed hers. His voice dropped low. "I've been thinking about you all night."
Zenith's steps faltered. She glanced back toward the distant glow of the camp, then at him, blue eyes wide with that familiar gentle hesitation. "Mike… we shouldn't. Not here. Paul is right there…"
But her protest was soft, almost half-hearted. The thrill was already blooming low in her belly, warm and insistent.
Mike stopped, turning to face her. He stepped close, backing her gently against the thick trunk of an old oak.
One large hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing her lower lip.
"No one will know. Just a quick one… to take the edge off." His other hand slid down her side, squeezing her hip through the skirt.
Zenith bit her lip, breath quickening. The mild guilt whispered, 'Paul is working so hard right now.'
But her body leaned toward him, nipples already tightening beneath her corset.
"Just… quickly, then," she whispered, voice airy and warm. "And don't finish inside me."
Mike's mouth claimed hers in a deep, hungry kiss. His hands worked fast but sure, unlacing her corset just enough for her heavy breasts to spill free into the cool night air.
He palmed them greedily, rolling her nipples until she gasped into his mouth.
He spun her around, pressing her front against the rough bark.
Zenith braced her hands on the trunk, skirt hiked up around her waist in one smooth motion, panties tugged down to her knees.
Mike freed his thick cock and rubbed the broad head along her already slick folds, coating himself in her wetness.
Then he pushed in.
Zenith's mouth fell open in a silent gasp as the thick head breached her entrance, stretching her slowly, deliciously.
Inch after veined inch sank deep, the blunt crown dragging along every sensitive ridge inside her until his hips pressed flush against her ass and he was buried to the hilt.
The fullness was overwhelming—hot, heavy, perfect. She could feel every throb of his cock against her walls, the way he filled her so completely that her toes curled inside her boots.
Mike didn't wait. He gripped her hips and began to thrust—long, powerful strokes that drove her forward against the oak with every impact.
The wet *plap-plap-plap* of skin on skin echoed softly through the trees, mingling with the rustle of leaves and her own soft, breathy moans.
Each deep plunge made her heavy breasts bounce and sway, nipples scraping teasingly against the rough bark and sending sparks straight to her core.
The angle let him hit that perfect spot inside her over and over, the head of his cock kissing her cervix with every thrust.
"Mike… ahh… so deep," she whispered, voice trembling with pleasure. Her walls fluttered and clenched greedily around his girth, juices coating his shaft and dripping down her inner thighs.
The bark was rough against her palms and the tops of her breasts, a delicious contrast to the smooth heat of his cock.
Every time he bottomed out, his heavy balls slapped against her swollen clit, sending jolts of electric pleasure through her.
He railed her harder, one hand sliding up to tangle in her blonde ponytail, gently tugging her head back so he could lean in and kiss the side of her neck, teeth grazing her skin.
"You're so wet for me," he growled low against her ear. "Even out here, with your husband so close…"
The words sent a fresh rush of heat through her. The risk—the knowledge that Paul and the others were only a short distance away, that any stray sound might carry on the night breeze—made everything sharper, hotter, more intense.
Zenith pushed back to meet his thrusts, ass rippling with every impact, soft moans slipping from her lips despite her best efforts to stay quiet.
Mike reached around and cupped one of her bouncing breasts, squeezing the soft, heavy flesh, pinching and rolling the stiff nipple between his fingers.
The added stimulation made her walls clamp down tighter around him. She was close already, pleasure coiling tight in her belly.
Then he pulled out, spun her around, and lifted one of her legs, hooking it over his hip.
Standing sex now—face to face, her back pressed to the tree, moonlight painting her exposed breasts in silver.
He entered her again in one smooth, powerful thrust, the new angle letting him sink even deeper.
Zenith's head fell back against the bark with a soft cry, legs trembling as he began to pound up into her.
Their mouths met in messy, desperate kisses—tongues tangling, breaths mingling hot and fast.
Her heavy breasts squished against his scarred chest, nipples dragging with every roll of his hips.
Mike's hand kneaded her ass, fingers digging into soft flesh as he drove into her again and again, the wet *schlick-schlick-schlick* of her soaked pussy filling the forest night.
"So good… Mike…" she gasped between kisses, blue eyes half-lidded in bliss.
Her walls fluttered wildly around him, the pressure building fast. The thrill of being taken standing in the open forest, skirt bunched around her waist, breasts fully exposed and bouncing with every thrust—it was intoxicating.
When she felt him throbbing close to the edge, Mike set her leg down and stepped back.
Zenith sank gracefully to her knees on the soft forest floor, breasts still fully exposed and jiggling with the motion.
She took his glistening, vein-throbbing cock between her soft, heavy tits, pressing them together around the thick shaft.
The sight of her pale breasts wrapped so tightly around his bronze length made Mike groan deeply.
Zenith looked up at him with warm blue eyes, then began to move—sliding her breasts up and down his length in smooth, sensual strokes, the slick head of his cock slipping between them with every motion.
She leaned down and licked the leaking tip each time it emerged, tongue swirling lovingly around the sensitive crown, tasting herself mixed with his precum.
Mike's hands tangled gently in her ponytail, guiding but never forcing. "Your tits… fuck, Zenith… so soft, so perfect…"
She worked him faster, breasts jiggling and squeezing tightly around his cock, spit dripping from her mouth to keep the valley between them slick and warm.
The head popped in and out of her cleavage with wet, obscene sounds. When he tensed, hips stuttering, Zenith opened her mouth wide, tongue out, eyes locked on his.
Thick ropes of hot cum erupted across her tongue, her lips, and the tops of her breasts—warm, sticky streaks painting her pale skin in the moonlight.
She swallowed what landed in her mouth with gentle, satisfied hums, then used her fingers to scoop the rest from her chest, licking them clean one by one.
They stayed like that for a moment—her on her knees, chest glistening, breathing hard; him leaning against the tree, spent and grinning.
Zenith stood, cleaning herself quickly with a handkerchief from her pocket, then laced her corset again.
She smoothed her skirt, adjusted her ponytail, and gave Mike a soft, slightly flustered smile.
"We really must hurry back now," she whispered, voice warm. "Paul will worry."
Mike nodded, kissing her forehead once. They walked the rest of the way in companionable silence, emerging from the trees near the village edge.
He left her at the garden gate with a casual wave, as if he had simply escorted a friend home.
Zenith slipped inside, heart still racing pleasantly. Paul returned an hour later, none the wiser, pulling her into a grateful hug for the food.
She kissed him gently, the taste of another man still faintly lingering on her tongue, and smiled that same warm, motherly smile.
The game continued.
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[email protected]/charlottes143
Smut stories doesn't need too much thoughts to it, compared to the usual fic.