The train rattled to a stop at the tiny countryside station, its wooden sign barely hanging on its rusted frame. Haruto stepped down onto the platform, his single suitcase in hand, and inhaled the crisp summer air. Unlike the city, there was no smog, no rush of people, no endless noise. Just the smell of earth, cicadas screaming in the distance, and the rolling green mountains that stretched endlessly under the blue sky.
"Back to nothingness…" he muttered, pulling his phone from his pocket. No signal. Of course.
At nineteen, Haruto had dreamed of freedom—bright lights, girlfriends, maybe university in Tokyo. Instead, his parents had gone overseas for work, and he was dumped here, in his grandfather's sleepy little village. His grandfather was kind, but old and stubborn. The man barely spoke, preferring long naps and tending to his garden. That meant most of Haruto's days would be spent alone.
Or so he thought.
The village was small—just a cluster of wooden homes, a shrine, rice paddies, and a river that glistened like glass. As Haruto dragged his suitcase up the dirt road, villagers glanced at him curiously. Most were old people, but a few younger figures caught his eye. Girls. Women. Their clothes loose and simple, yet the heat of summer made thin cotton stick to their skin, revealing hints of shape beneath.
His pulse quickened. Maybe… maybe it wouldn't be so boring here.
When he finally reached his grandfather's house, he bowed politely and brought his things inside. The old man welcomed him with a grunt and soon returned to pruning bonsai. Haruto sighed and stepped outside to look around.
That's when he noticed the house next door.
A sliding paper door stood half-open, the faint smell of soap drifting out. In the garden, a woman bent over to hang clothes, the curve of her hips straining against her yukata. Her long black hair swayed in the breeze, her skin pale and smooth. She wasn't a girl his age. She was older—mid to late twenties perhaps. But her body… her body was full, mature, and unmistakably feminine.
As if sensing his gaze, she looked up. Their eyes met. She smiled.
"Ah, you must be Haruto-kun," she said warmly, walking over. "I'm Ayame. I live next door. Your grandfather mentioned you'd be coming."
Her voice was soft, but there was something in her gaze that lingered longer than politeness. Haruto swallowed, suddenly aware of his own awkwardness.
"Yes… I just arrived. Nice to meet you."
She giggled lightly, wiping her hands on her yukata. The neckline had loosened slightly, showing the faint line of cleavage, the swell of her breasts. Haruto looked away quickly, but the image burned into his mind.
"Well, if you ever need help settling in, don't hesitate to ask," Ayame said, her tone kind but with a hidden warmth that felt… different. Her eyes scanned him—his lean body, his nervous stance—as if she were already imagining something more.
As she returned to her laundry, Haruto couldn't stop staring at the outline of her figure, the way the summer breeze clung to her body, pressing the thin fabric against her curves. His cock twitched.
The countryside might not be boring after all.
The evening sun dipped lower, casting golden light across the fields. After a quiet dinner with his grandfather, Haruto stepped outside to explore. The village was silent, save for the cicadas and the gentle murmur of the river that cut through the land.
Curious, he followed the sound. The narrow path wound through tall grass until it opened onto the water's edge. The river was calm, reflecting the sky in orange and red.
That's when he froze.
In the shallows stood Ayame. Completely naked.
Her yukata lay folded neatly on a rock, and her body glistened under the dying light. Water slid down the slope of her shoulders, over her round, perfect breasts, her nipples stiff in the cool air. Haruto's gaze dropped lower, tracing the soft curve of her belly to the patch of black hair between her thighs, trimmed neatly, her pussy lips faintly visible in the water.
Haruto's breath caught.
She ran her hands through her long hair, lifting it above her head, which only pushed her breasts forward, the weight of them swaying gently. Her skin was flawless, pale against the dark water, the droplets on her nipples catching the sunset like jewels.
Haruto's cock hardened instantly, straining against his pants. He knew he should leave—this was wrong—but his feet stayed planted. His eyes devoured every inch of her body, every glistening drop that slid from her tits down her stomach to disappear between her thighs.
Ayame sighed softly, cupping her breasts in her hands, squeezing them together as she rubbed the soap along her chest. The way her fingers brushed her own nipples sent a shiver down Haruto's spine.
Then she tilted her head slightly… and her eyes opened.
Their gazes met.
Haruto panicked, heat rushing to his face. He stumbled back, about to apologize, when Ayame's lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.
She didn't cover herself. She didn't scream. Instead, she let her hands trail down her stomach, pausing just above her pussy.
"Haruto-kun," she called softly, her voice carrying over the water. "You shouldn't sneak up on a woman like this… unless you're ready to see everything."
His heart thudded so hard he thought it might burst. Her words, her smile, her naked body—it was all too much. His cock throbbed painfully, begging to be freed.
Ayame stepped out of the water slowly, droplets running down her thighs, dripping from her pussy hair, sliding over the curves of her ass. Completely nude, she walked toward him with the confidence of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing.
Haruto could only stand there, frozen between guilt and desire, as the widow's wet, naked body came closer with every step.
The last rays of the sun vanished, leaving only the silver glow of the rising moon. The air was warm, thick with the smell of river water and soap.
Ayame stopped in front of Haruto, droplets still rolling down her naked skin. He couldn't take his eyes off her—her breasts heavy and dripping, her nipples hard, her trimmed pussy hair glistening wet, a faint glimmer of her folds catching the moonlight.
"Your eyes…" she whispered, leaning close enough that he could smell the faint sweetness of her skin. "They're hungry."
Haruto stammered, "I–I wasn't—"
But his words cut short as Ayame placed a finger on his lips. "Don't lie. You were watching. You wanted to see me."
Her finger trailed down his chin, down his throat, then boldly over his chest. She smiled as she noticed the bulge throbbing against his pants.
"Mm… so young, but already this hard."
Haruto's breath grew ragged as she crouched before him, her wet hair sticking to her bare shoulders. With slow, deliberate fingers, she undid the buttons of his pants and pulled them open. His cock sprang free, thick and stiff, veins pulsing in the cool night air.
Ayame's eyes widened slightly, her lips curling into a smirk. "So big… no wonder you couldn't look away from me. I wonder…" She wrapped her hand around his shaft, stroking gently, making him gasp. "...how you taste."
Without waiting for an answer, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the tip, giving it a soft, teasing kiss. Haruto shuddered. Then, with a low moan, Ayame opened her mouth and slid him inside.
"Ahh—!" Haruto's knees almost buckled as the warmth engulfed him. Her tongue swirled around the head of his cock, wet and slick, before sliding deeper, inch by inch, until his length filled her mouth.
Her lips stretched, saliva dripping down her chin as she began to bob her head, her hand stroking the base, her eyes never leaving his. The lewd sound of sucking echoed softly by the river, mixing with Haruto's ragged breaths.
"Ayame-san… it's… so good…"
She moaned around his cock, the vibration shooting pleasure straight through him. Her pace quickened, her tongue lapping at every vein, her throat relaxing as she took him deeper, wetter, sloppier. Drool dripped onto her breasts, glistening in the moonlight as they bounced gently with her motions.
Haruto's hands trembled before he gave in, placing them on her head. She didn't resist—she pressed harder, letting him guide her, letting him thrust into her eager mouth.
His balls tightened. His body quivered. "I'm… gonna—"
Ayame pulled back just enough to smile up at him, his cock resting against her lips, glistening with saliva. "Cum for me, Haruto-kun… let me taste you."
That was it. His cock twitched violently, and with a groan he erupted, thick spurts of cum shooting into her waiting mouth. Ayame moaned as she swallowed greedily, letting the rest spill down her chin, dripping onto her tits and between her cleavage.
When it finally ended, Haruto stood there panting, his legs weak. Ayame licked her lips slowly, deliberately, then dragged her finger through the cum on her chest and sucked it clean.
"Mmm… so warm, so thick," she whispered. "I'll be needing more of this from you, Haruto-kun."
She leaned in, pressing her soft, wet breasts against his chest, her lips brushing his ear.
"Welcome to the countryside… it won't be quiet anymore."