It finally crossed the 15k words!
I know that this is a niche genre, as only those who are perverted or horny enough wants to read it.
But I need your votes brothers, even if it's not much I appreciate it. This might not be in the rankings, however I do need your collections!
Vote and gimme all your horny energies!
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Three quiet days had passed since the forest. The monster sightings had eased a little, but Paul was still out most nights with the patrol.
Zenith moved through her mornings with the same gentle grace she always had—tending the garden, helping Rudeus with his letters, sharing soft smiles with Lilia over tea.
Yet every so often her thoughts would drift, warm and unhurried, to the memory of Mike's thick cock stretching her against that oak tree, the thrill of knowing Paul was only a short distance away.
The mild guilt was still there, a quiet companion, but it only made the secret warmth between her thighs sweeter.
She told herself she wasn't seeking him out. Not really.
On the fourth afternoon, while Paul was still away and Rudeus was playing near the river with Sylphiette, a familiar knock sounded at the front door.
Lilia answered it, and Zenith's heart gave a small, pleasant flutter when she heard the low voice.
"Afternoon, Miss Lilia. Paul asked me to drop off some fresh pelts for the winter—said the roof might need patching soon."
Mike stood on the porch, a bundle of cured rabbit and fox pelts under one muscular arm, leather vest open just enough to show the scars across his bronze chest.
His dark eyes found Zenith instantly over Lilia's shoulder, and the corner of his mouth curved in that familiar, knowing half-smile.
Zenith stepped forward, adjusting her white halterneck corset with composed poise.
"Mike," she said softly, voice warm and airy, the same tone she used when welcoming village guests. "How thoughtful. Please, come in. I'll make tea while you set those down."
Lilia nodded politely and returned to the kitchen.
Rudeus was still out, so the house felt unusually private despite the open windows letting in the afternoon breeze.
Mike followed Zenith inside, his heavy boots quiet on the wooden floors.
As they passed the narrow hallway, his callused hand brushed the small of her back—innocent to anyone watching, but his fingers pressed just enough to send a shiver up her spine.
They chatted lightly in the living room while he stacked the pelts neatly by the hearth.
Small talk about the weather, the easing monster problem, how Rudeus was progressing with his sword forms.
But every time Lilia's back was turned in the kitchen, Mike's hand would find her again—squeezing her hip, brushing the underside of one heavy breast through her corset, once even sliding up her thigh beneath her khaki skirt when she bent to pour his tea.
Zenith's cheeks stayed a soft pink, but she never pulled away. Instead she leaned into the touches for half a heartbeat each time, her gentle blue eyes meeting his with that warm, slightly flustered sparkle.
After the tea was finished and Lilia had gone upstairs to mend clothes, Mike's voice dropped low. "The library window… it faces the side garden, right? Quiet this time of day."
Zenith bit her lower lip, the mild hesitation flickering across her face like always. "Mike… someone could walk by. Or Rudeus could come home early…"
But even as she whispered the protest, her fingers were already brushing his wrist, guiding him toward the small study room at the end of the hall.
The library was modest—shelves of old adventurer logs and Milis prayer books lining two walls, a heavy oak desk by the wide window, a single cushioned chair.
Zenith had left the window open earlier for fresh air; the lace curtains stirred gently in the breeze, offering a clear view of the side garden path and the quiet lane beyond.
Anyone walking past could glance in if they looked closely enough.
The moment the door clicked shut, Mike pulled her close.
Their kiss was slow and deep, tongues sliding together with sensual laziness.
His large hands unlaced her corset with practiced care, letting her full, heavy breasts spill free into the warm afternoon light.
He cupped them reverently, thumbs circling her pink nipples until they stiffened into tight peaks.
Zenith sighed softly against his mouth, arching into his touch, her own hands sliding under his vest to trace the hard ridges of his scarred chest.
He turned her toward the desk, bending her gently over it so her breasts pressed against the cool wood, nipples dragging deliciously.
Skirt hiked up, panties slid down to her ankles—Mike dropped to his knees for a moment, spreading her cheeks and licking a long, slow stripe along her already slick folds.
Zenith gasped, fingers curling on the desk as his tongue circled her clit, then dipped inside her, tasting her with hungry devotion.
When she was trembling, he stood, freed his thick, veined cock, and rubbed the broad head along her dripping entrance. "Don't finish inside me," she reminded him gently, voice breathy and warm.
"Never," he murmured, and pushed in.
The stretch was exquisite—slow and deliberate, inch after thick inch sinking deep until he was buried to the hilt.
Zenith's mouth fell open in a silent moan, walls fluttering around his girth. The open window let in the sounds of the village: distant children laughing, the creak of a cart on the lane, the soft rustle of leaves.
Anyone passing the side path could look up and see her bent over the desk, blonde ponytail swaying, heavy breasts squished against the wood.
Mike began to thrust—long, sensual strokes that rocked her body forward.
Each deep plunge made her breasts slide against the desk, nipples scraping with electric friction.
The wet *schlick-schlick-schlick* of her soaked pussy filled the small room, mixing with the breeze and the outside world.
He leaned over her, one hand reaching around to cup and squeeze a hanging breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers while his hips rolled in deep, grinding circles.
"So tight… so wet for me," he breathed against her ear, voice rough. Zenith whimpered softly, pushing back to meet him, loving how completely he filled her.
He straightened, gripping her hips and pulling her back onto him harder.
The angle let him hit that perfect spot inside her with every thrust, the head of his cock kissing her cervix.
Her breasts bounced freely now, swaying heavily beneath her, nipples stiff and aching.
The open window made everything sharper—the cool breeze caressing her exposed skin, the risk of a neighbor glancing in and seeing the elegant wife of Paul Greyrat being fucked over her own desk.
Footsteps sounded on the lane outside—two villagers walking past, chatting about the weather.
Zenith's heart slammed against her ribs, a delicious spike of adrenaline flooding her veins.
She clamped a hand over her mouth, but Mike didn't slow.
He thrust deeper, grinding against her ass, one hand sliding down to rub tight circles on her swollen clit.
The thrill pushed her over the edge. She came with a muffled, shuddering moan, walls clamping down around him in rhythmic waves, juices coating his shaft and dripping down her thighs.
Mike groaned, hips stuttering, but he remembered her rule.
He pulled out at the last moment, spun her around, and guided her gently to her knees.
Zenith looked up at him with warm, lust-dazed blue eyes, then took his glistening cock between her soft, heavy breasts.
She pressed them together around his thick length, sliding them up and down in smooth, sensual strokes while her tongue licked the leaking head each time it emerged from her cleavage. Her breasts jiggled and bounced with every motion, spit and her own juices making the valley slick and warm.
Mike's hands tangled gently in her ponytail, breath ragged. "Zenith… you're perfect…"
She worked him faster, squeezing tighter, licking and sucking the sensitive crown until he tensed.
Thick ropes of hot cum erupted across her tongue, her lips, and the tops of her breasts—warm, sticky streaks painting her pale skin.
She swallowed what landed in her mouth with gentle, satisfied hums, then scooped the rest with her fingers, licking them clean one by one while looking up at him with that same soft, warm smile.
They stayed like that for a long, breathless moment—her on her knees, chest glistening, breathing softly; him leaning against the desk, spent and grinning down at her.
Zenith stood, cleaning herself quickly with a handkerchief from the desk drawer, then laced her corset again with steady hands. She smoothed her skirt, adjusted her ponytail, and gave Mike a gentle, slightly flustered smile.
"You should go out the back way," she whispered warmly. "Just to be safe."
Mike kissed her forehead once, tender and lingering. "Until next time."
He slipped out the side door. Zenith opened the library window a little wider, letting the breeze cool her flushed skin, and returned to the kitchen just as Lilia came downstairs.
She greeted the maid with her usual warm smile, as though nothing at all had happened.
Later that evening, when Paul returned dusty and tired, Zenith welcomed him with a soft kiss and a hot meal. She sat beside him at the table, listening to his stories, the faint taste of another man still lingering sweetly on her tongue.
The game, she thought with that same gentle curiosity, was becoming even more delightful.