The countryside was quiet that afternoon, only the cicadas crying in the heavy air as Sayaka Tanabe stepped through the wooden gate of the old house. She was thirty-eight, a married woman, though her husband had been away in the city for almost a year now, working a corporate job that kept him far from home.
Her figure betrayed her age in the most sinful way—ripe, heavy breasts that bounced inside her blouse with every step, a wide, round ass that stretched her skirt and swayed like ripe fruit, and thick thighs that rubbed softly as she walked. Her skin was pale and smooth, her black hair tied loosely at the back, a few strands falling over her cheeks.
Dragging her suitcase along the stone path, she looked around with a polite smile. "Excuse me…"
From inside, Kawamoto Genzou, the seventy-year-old landlord, shuffled to the door. His hair was white and thin, his body bent slightly from years of work. He lived alone ever since his wife had passed away, and the sight that greeted him almost knocked the breath from his chest.
Sayaka bowed deeply, her breasts swinging inside her blouse, nearly spilling out of the neckline.
"Thank you for renting me the room, Kawamoto-san. I hope I won't be any trouble."
"No, no… not at all," he croaked, his eyes glued shamelessly to the faint outline of her nipples pressing against the fabric. "Please, come in. Make yourself at home."
---
Inside, Sayaka moved gracefully, her wide hips brushing the edges of the narrow hallway as she carried her bags. Genzou's eyes followed her every move. He had not had a woman in his home for decades, and now, this thick-bodied, mature wife was bending down in front of him, her skirt lifting slightly to reveal the soft underside of her thighs.
"Your husband will not be joining you?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
Sayaka shook her head, setting down her suitcase. Her breasts quivered with the motion, and Genzou's cock twitched in his trousers.
"He works in Tokyo. I will stay here alone for a few months… I thought it would be peaceful."
Peaceful… The word stabbed him. Because already, nothing inside him was peaceful.
---
That evening, she cooked for him. The smell of soy-braised pork and miso filled the wooden house as Sayaka moved around the kitchen. She tied her hair up, but her ample breasts still bounced with every stir of the pot, swaying heavy and hypnotic.
She hummed a soft tune while tasting the miso soup, unaware that Genzou sat at the table, pretending to read the newspaper but actually watching her ass jiggle under her skirt each time she bent to reach for a pot.
When she leaned forward to place the dishes on the table, her blouse gaped slightly, and Genzou caught a sinful view of her deep cleavage. His cock stirred again, swelling slowly like it hadn't in years.
Sayaka only smiled innocently. "It's been a while since I cooked for someone besides myself. Please eat, Kawamoto-san."
---
After dinner, Sayaka insisted on cleaning the dishes. She rolled up her sleeves, water dripping down her soft arms, her massive tits jiggling as she scrubbed. Genzou sat behind her, his eyes glued to the roundness of her ass outlined through the damp fabric of her skirt.
Every sway, every bounce of flesh seemed to mock him, to awaken something savage inside. He could almost imagine peeling that skirt off, spreading her fat ass cheeks apart, and sinking his cock into her.
But he restrained himself.
Instead, that night, lying alone in his futon, Genzou's hand found his cock. The image of Sayaka's jiggling tits, her ass swaying as she scrubbed the floor, played behind his closed eyes. His cock throbbed hard, fat veins pulsing along its monstrous twelve-inch length.
As he stroked himself, he imagined her soft, mature body bouncing on top of him, her tits slapping against his chest, her ass swallowing him whole.
The old house creaked with his muffled groans. Outside, Sayaka slept soundly in her new room, unaware of the storm of lust she had already awakened inside the old man.
---
And so, the first night passed.
Sayaka was still the faithful wife, kind and polite, but her body—her huge guggiling breasts, her massive wife-ass, her thick thighs—was a poison dripping into Genzou's veins.
It was only the beginning.