Mika showed up the very next morning at sunrise, already in her cut-off overalls and a thin white tank top that turned transparent the moment she started sweating.
"I'm not letting you work my fields and yours alone," she declared, rolling up her sleeves. "From today, your farm is my farm. Deal with it."
Kai opened his mouth to protest, but the sight of her bending over to grab a hoe (ass flexing, breasts swaying free under the damp cotton) shut him up fast.
They worked side by side all morning.
Planting seedlings in the rich black soil, thighs brushing, hands accidentally-on-purpose grazing sweat-slick skin. Every time Mika bent forward, her overalls gaped and Kai caught mouth-watering glimpses of dark nipples. Every time he reached high to tie a trellis, she stared openly at the thick outline swinging in his work pants.
By noon the sun was brutal.
Both of them were soaked, dirt-streaked, breathing hard.
Mika finally dropped her hoe, wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist, and gave him a look that could melt steel.
"I need a break," she said, voice husky. "Come with me."
She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the tall row of corn that bordered the field, thick green stalks hiding them completely from the road.
The second they were out of sight, Mika attacked him.
She shoved him back against a thick corn stalk, yanked his belt open, and dropped to her knees in the dirt. His cock sprang free (hard since sunrise) and she swallowed half of it in one greedy motion, moaning like she'd been starving for the taste.
Kai groaned, fingers tangling in her ponytail as she sucked him deep and messy, saliva dripping down her chin onto her heaving breasts. Two minutes. That's all it took before he hauled her up, spun her around, and bent her over right there in the bushes.
He didn't even pull her overalls all the way off—just shoved them down to her knees, spread those powerful sun-browned cheeks, and slammed home in one thrust.
Mika screamed into her forearm, pussy clenching like a vice. She was dripping (had been since morning), juices coating his balls on the first stroke.
He fucked her hard and fast, the corn rustling wildly around them, her ass rippling with every brutal thrust. She came in under a minute, squirting so hard it splashed the dirt between her feet. Kai didn't stop. He gripped her hips, pounded through her orgasm, and filled her with thick ropes of cum until it was running down her thighs in white streams.
They barely caught their breath before Mika dragged him farther down the field to the irrigation river that cut through the property.
Crystal-clear water, knee-deep, shaded by overhanging willows.
She stripped naked without a word and waded in, water lapping at those heavy breasts, nipples stiff from the cool current. Kai followed, cock already hardening again.
Mika pushed him down onto a smooth boulder at the river's edge, straddled him, and sank down slowly, letting the water support her weight. The river swirled around their joined bodies as she rode him (slow, deep circles at first, then faster, breasts bouncing and sending water spraying everywhere).
Kai gripped her ass, guiding her up and down his length, watching her face contort with every grind against her clit. She came again with a sharp cry that echoed off the trees, pussy spasming so hard he had to hold her down to keep seated.
He flipped her over the same boulder, took her from behind while the river rushed past their legs. Water slapped against her clit with every thrust, driving her wild. She begged (actually begged) for him to come inside her again, and when he did, the sensation of hot cum flooding her while cool water swirled around them made her squirt a second time, mixing with the river.
They weren't done.
On the walk back, still half-naked and dripping, Mika suddenly yanked him off the path into a thicket of bamboo beside the dirt road. Hidden from sight but close enough to hear the occasional bicycle bell in the distance.
She dropped to all fours in the soft earth, looked back over her shoulder, and spread her knees.
"One more time," she panted. "I want to feel you leaking out of me while I finish planting."
Kai knelt behind her, slid into the mess he'd already made (hot, slick, filthy), and fucked her slow and deep. The risk of being caught made it electric. Every thrust pushed cum from previous loads out around his cock, dripping onto the leaves below.
Mika reached back between her legs, rubbed her swollen clit furiously, and came with her face pressed into the dirt, whole body shaking, muffling her screams in her own forearm.
Kai followed seconds later, adding a fresh flood that overflowed instantly and ran in thick rivulets down her thighs.
They finally staggered back to the field twenty minutes later (clothes half-buttoned, hair full of leaves, both of them grinning like idiots).
Mika picked up her hoe again, cum still dripping down her legs, and winked.
"Break's over, city boy. Back to work."
Kai watched her bend over the next row, ass flexing, pussy lips swollen and glistening beneath the denim, and knew one thing for certain:
He was never hiring farm hands.
He already had the best one in Japan.
It was a golden September afternoon, the kind where the air itself feels thick with pollen and sex.
Kai had Mika bent over a stack of rice bales in the open-sided drying shed, her overalls shoved down to her knees, tank top rucked up under her armpits so those heavy sun-browned breasts swung free with every thrust.
He was taking her from behind, hard and deep in doggy—exactly how she liked it after a full day's work. One hand fisted in her ponytail, the other gripping her wide hip, cock slamming home again and again into the wettest, greasiest pussy he'd ever fucked. Mika was already on her third orgasm, face flushed dark, mouth open in a continuous low moan, ass rippling with every impact.
"Harder—fuck—don't stop—ruin me—"
That was when the car pulled up.
A silver sedan neither of them recognized. City plates.
The driver's door opened and a man stepped out: mid-fifties, thinning hair, cheap suit rumpled from the long drive. Mika's husband, Hiroshi.
He froze ten meters away, briefcase still in hand, eyes wide as he took in the scene: his wife of twenty-eight years on all fours in the dirt, sweat and cum dripping down her thighs, getting absolutely railed by the young farmer everyone in the village was whispering about.
Kai felt Mika tense, instinctively started to pull out—cock slipping free with a wet sound, shiny with her cream.
Mika snarled, reached back blindly, and dug her nails into his thigh.
"Don't you fucking dare stop," she growled, voice raw. "Fuck me. Right now. Let him watch."
Kai hesitated half a second. Then something primal took over.
He slammed back in to the root.
Mika screamed in pleasure, pushing back against him, breasts bouncing wildly, completely unashamed. The sound of wet flesh on flesh echoed through the shed again, louder now, obscene.
Hiroshi's face cycled through shock, disgust, and finally—something like relief.
He dropped the briefcase.
"I came to say goodbye," he said, voice strangely calm. "I'm moving in with her. In Tokyo. I thought… I thought you'd cry. Beg me to stay."
Mika laughed—harsh, breathless, broken only by Kai's relentless thrusts.
"Look at me, Hiroshi," she panted, turning her head so her husband could see the tears of pure ecstasy on her cheeks. "Do I look sad?"
Another brutal thrust from Kai made her eyes roll back.
Hiroshi just nodded once.
"Then goodbye," he said quietly. "Live well, Mika."
He got back in the car and drove away. Dust settled. The engine noise faded.
For a long moment the only sounds were Mika's ragged breathing and the wet slap of Kai's hips against her ass.
Then she broke.
Not from shame—from twenty-eight years of pretending.
She dropped to her elbows in the dirt, face buried in her forearms, and sobbed.
Kai slowed, started to pull out again, worry cutting through the lust.
Mika whipped her head around, eyes wild and wet.
"No," she snarled through tears. "Fuck me, Kai. Fuck me until I forget that man ever existed. Fuck me until the only name I remember is yours."
She reached back, spread her cheeks herself, offering everything.
Kai gave her everything.
He gripped her hips hard enough to bruise and pounded her like a man possessed. Long, punishing strokes that dragged over every sensitive spot inside her, balls slapping her swollen clit, cock rearranging her guts.
Mika screamed into the rice bales, body shaking with sobs and orgasms that blurred together. She came so hard she squirted again and again, soaking the dirt beneath them, pussy trying to milk him dry.
He didn't let up.
Flipped her onto her back right there on the shed floor, hooked her legs over his shoulders, and folded her nearly in half. Her breasts bounced against her chin with every violent thrust. Tears streamed down her temples into her hair.
"Look at me," Kai growled.
She did—eyes locked on his, broken and reborn.
"You're mine now," he said, voice rough. "Say it."
"I'm yours—only yours—fuck—Kai—!"
He slammed in one last time and exploded.
Thick, endless ropes of cum flooded her already overflowing pussy, forcing out around his base in creamy gushes. Mika's final orgasm hit like a storm—back arching off the ground, a silent scream, every muscle locking as she took everything he gave her.
When it was over, she lay trembling beneath him, covered in dirt and sweat and cum, chest heaving.
Kai collapsed beside her, pulled her into his arms.
Mika cried for a long time—not from pain, but from release.
Then she kissed him, slow and deep, tasting salt and sex and freedom.
"Thank you," she whispered against his lips. "For giving me a life worth living."
Kai kissed her tears away.
From that day forward, the ring finger on her left hand stayed bare.
And every night, when the moon rose over the rice fields, Mika came to Kai's bed—strong, proud, insatiable—and let him fuck every last ghost of her old life out of her body until there was nothing left but them.
She was finally, completely, conquered.
For the first three days after Hiroshi drove away, Mika was a storm contained in a woman's body.
She worked harder than ever: up before dawn, muscles burning, refusing help, refusing rest. She hoed rows until her palms blistered, hauled water until her shoulders screamed, anything to keep her hands busy and her mind quiet.
At night she came to Kai's bed silent and fierce. No words. Just need.
She would push him down, straddle his face, and ride his tongue until she came so hard she shook, tears mixing with the sweat on her cheeks. Then she'd sink onto his cock and fuck him like she was trying to erase twenty-eight years in one night: hard, punishing, relentless. She'd bite his shoulder to stay quiet, nails raking his back, pussy clenching so tight it hurt.
Afterward she never stayed in his arms. She'd curl on the edge of the futon, back turned, pretending to sleep while silent tears soaked the pillow.
Kai let her grieve in her own way. He never pushed. Just held space for the storm.
On the fourth night she broke.
She showed up at his door after midnight, rain-soaked from walking the fields in a downpour, eyes red and swollen.
"I keep waiting to feel guilty," she whispered, voice cracking. "I keep waiting for the shame to hit me. For missing him. For regretting anything."
Kai pulled her inside, peeled the wet clothes from her trembling body, wrapped her in a warm towel.
"It's not coming," she said, laughing through fresh tears. "All I feel is… free. And that makes me feel like a monster."
He cupped her face, thumbs brushing away the rain and tears.
"You're not a monster, Mika. You're a woman who stayed faithful to a ghost for eight years. You gave him everything and he threw it away long before I ever touched you. You don't owe him your grief."
She stared at him for a long moment, then collapsed against his chest and sobbed: ugly, raw, cleansing sobs that shook her whole body.
Kai held her until there were no tears left.
When she finally looked up, her eyes were clear for the first time in days.
"Make me feel it again," she whispered. "Make me feel like I belong to someone who actually wants me."
This time the sex was different.
Slow. Deliberate. Almost sacred.
Kai laid her down on the futon and kissed every inch of her like he was mapping new territory. The faint silver stretch marks on her belly (three children she'd carried alone while her husband chased city girls). The calluses on her hands that proved how hard she'd worked to keep a dying marriage afloat. The scar on her left breast from a farming accident he'd never noticed before.
He worshipped her body like it was holy ground.
When he finally entered her, it was face-to-face, her legs wrapped around his waist, hands clasped above her head. He moved slow and deep, never breaking eye contact.
"You are wanted," he murmured with every thrust. "You are cherished. You are mine."
Mika's eyes filled again, but this time the tears were soft.
"I spent so many years feeling like a machine," she confessed between gasps. "A wife who cooked and cleaned and farmed and raised kids and got nothing back. I forgot I was a woman."
Kai kissed her slow and deep.
"You're the strongest, sexiest, most beautiful woman I've ever known," he said against her lips. "And I'm never letting you forget it again."
She came quietly: a long, rolling orgasm that started in her toes and radiated outward, her pussy fluttering around him in gentle waves instead of the violent spasms of before. Kai followed moments later, filling her with slow, deliberate pulses, holding her gaze the entire time.
Afterward she didn't turn away.
She curled into his chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns over his heart, and for the first time in days, she slept peacefully.
The next morning she woke up smiling.
She made them coffee, kissed Sayuri good morning when she came over with Haru, and went back to the fields wearing nothing but one of Kai's old shirts and a pair of shorts: no bra, no shame, no ghosts.
That night she cooked dinner for the whole house: Keiko, Sayuri, Haru, Aiko (who had started staying over more and more), and Kai. Simple farm food, but she hummed while she cooked, hips swaying, barefoot and radiant.
After Haru was asleep and the dishes were done, Mika pulled Kai into the bedroom, pushed him down on the bed, and rode him slow and sweet under the moonlight.
No tears this time.
Just soft laughter when she came, and the quiet, certain words whispered against his neck:
"I'm home, Kai. Finally home."
She never wore the ring again.
And every year on the anniversary of the day her old life ended, Mika and Kai made love in the drying shed where it happened: slow, filthy, celebratory: reclaiming the space where she was reborn.
Some scars don't fade.
They just become the places where the light gets in.