The faint steam rising from the bowl tickled my nostrils.
"Well then, let's eat."
"Please do."
Encouraged by Shizuno-san's gentle smile, I took a sip of the miso soup.
"It's delicious."
"I'm so glad. I was worried it might not suit your taste."
"Not at all. I could eat bowls and bowls of miso soup made by Shizuno-san."
"Fufufu."
I took a bite of the fried tofu in the soup. Delicious.
Then, as I was about to eat some eggplant, I noticed Shizuno-san staring intently at me.
"Um, is something wrong?"
When I asked, Shizuno-san seemed startled.
"N-no, it's nothing."
She took a sip of her miso soup, as if trying to hide something.
Tilting my head slightly in confusion, I ate the eggplant.
*****
"Ah, let me help with something."
After dinner, I offered to assist.
"It's fine. Shinta-kun should relax."
"I'm sorry, and thank you."
I sat properly at the table, kneeling formally.
Normally at home, I'd sit cross-legged.
But my nervousness and respect for Shizuno-san made me sit this way.
"Shinta-kun."
Shizuno-san called from the kitchen where she was washing dishes.
"Since you're here, why don't you take a bath?"
"Eh? No, that's... I think I should go home before I impose any further."
"You're not imposing at all. In fact, having you here makes me very happy."
When she turned to face me, her smile looked slightly lonely.
That's right—Shizuno-san had been alone for five years since losing her husband.
She must have been lonely. If I could help fill that void in her heart...
"Understood. Then I'll take you up on your offer and use the bath."
"Yes, please take your time."
With a smile playing at my lips in response to Shizuno-san's elegant one, I headed toward the bathroom she showed me.
*****
The sound of running water filled my ears.
A cute younger boy had come to visit my home.
My heart raced at the thought, but at the same time, guilt weighed on me.
That eggplant in the miso soup—it was the same one I had imagined his impressive length sinking into me last night. I had fed it to him with a smile, my own arousal clinging to it.
I felt like a filthy, wretched woman.
Yet, I had chosen the pleasure of that transgression.
He probably saw me as a pure, modest, wonderful woman.
But the truth was, I was just a lonely widow who had spent five years drowning in pent-up desire.
And on his first visit, I had practically forced dinner and a bath on him.
Was it too much? For an older woman like me to act this way toward him? He was still young—a vibrant college student surrounded by lovely girls his age.
With a squeak, I turned off the faucet.
Then, my hand drifted between my legs.
My underwear was already soaked.
I slid a finger into the slick heat.
"...Ah, ah."
A short, breathy moan escaped me.
"No, there... Shinta...kun..."
Imagining him—surely bigger than my late husband—I comforted my lonely self, if only for a moment.