The bus hissed as it pulled away, leaving behind a trail of dust and diesel in the sleepy countryside air.
Takumi Hayashi, 21, slung his bag over his shoulder and adjusted his glasses, squinting toward the narrow path leading to the house where he'd be staying for the next two months. It was part of his university architecture fieldwork—studying traditional Japanese rural homes and helping restore parts of them. He expected bugs, sweat, and old planks.
What he didn't expect… was Misaki Tachibana.
When the wooden gate creaked open, she stepped out to greet him. And for a moment, time slowed.
She was around 42, maybe older, but damn—her body could've made idols cry. Long black hair tied in a loose bun, with a few wet strands clinging to her cheeks from the humidity. She wore a light pink cotton blouse—unbuttoned just enough to show the heavy swell of her cleavage—and snug linen pants that hugged her curvy hips and thick, bouncy ass like a second skin. No shoes. Bare feet on wood. Natural.
"Are you Takumi-kun?" she asked, voice soft and warm.
"H-Hai. Takumi Hayashi," he replied, suddenly aware of how hard his cock had twitched in his jeans.
She smiled gently and bowed, her big tits swaying slightly beneath her blouse. No bra. He could tell. Nipples outlined like sinful little peaks.
"I'm Misaki. You'll be staying here in the side room. I hope it's okay—it's not much."
"It's perfect," he muttered, eyes glued to her curves before jerking his gaze away.
---
Later That Evening…
After unpacking, Misaki invited him for dinner. He tried to focus on the rice and miso, but his eyes kept drifting to her chest, especially when she leaned forward to pour tea, her blouse gaping open just enough for him to see the smooth, pale inner slope of her G-cups.
The way she sat on her knees—legs folded under her, ass resting snugly on her heels—he could see the curve of her hips pushing against the hem of her pants.
"I'm surprised a young man like you chose such a boring village," she teased, stirring the soup.
"I prefer peace and… natural beauty," he replied, then immediately wanted to die from how awkward that sounded.
She giggled, "Is that so? Then you'll see plenty of that here."
Her gaze lingered a little longer than necessary.
---
Late Night — Sounds Through the Wall
The house was old, and the walls were thin. When Takumi lay down in his futon, he tried to relax. But then…
Shhhh… slap… shhhh…
The sound of running water, a bath.
And then—
Squelch… squelch… soft moans.
His eyes shot open.
"Haaah… mmmh… ohh…"
It was unmistakable. Misaki was touching herself.
His heart pounded. The thin wall between them may as well have not existed. He could picture her now: naked in the bath, thick thighs spread, fingers sliding over her wet clit while warm water flowed between her massive tits.
He gripped his cock and stroked slowly.
Her moans grew faster. Louder. "Ahh… I-I miss this feeling…"
Takumi grunted, biting his lip as he came in his hand, spilling hot cum all over his stomach.
He stared at the ceiling, breath ragged, cock still twitching. He hadn't even been in the village for 24 hours and he was already losing his mind.
---
The Next Morning — A Teasing Scene
"Good morning, Takumi-kun," Misaki greeted sweetly the next day as he entered the kitchen.
She was wearing a light blue apron. And nothing else. No bra, no panties—just the apron hanging loose from her shoulders, her bare back fully visible, and the side of her tits teasingly poking from the edges.
Her big ass jiggled slightly as she moved around, the apron fluttering just enough for him to catch quick flashes of her creamy thighs and undercurve.
He could barely breathe. "G-Good morning…"
She turned and caught him staring.
"You okay? You look red," she said with a grin.
He stammered, "Y-yeah! Just… hot."
"Mmm. It is a hot summer," she said softly, stepping closer, her scent a mix of jasmine and sweat. "Let me know if it gets too hard for you."
Hard for you.
Her eyes flicked down—right to the bulge in his pants.
That afternoon, Takumi offered to clean the sliding doors. Misaki, always moving around barefoot and loose-dressed, was mopping the floor nearby.
He turned to ask her something—only to see her step on a slippery wet patch and slip forward with a yelp.
He darted and caught her in time—but her body slammed into his. Her soft tits pressed against his chest, her wide hips crashing against his crotch.
"A-ah… thank you…" she whispered, her face flushed.
Their faces were inches apart. Her breath smelled sweet. Her hand was on his chest. His cock was rock hard, pressing against her stomach.
And she didn't pull away.