The mayor's manor loomed at the crest of Lowcrag Hollow's only hill, its timber beams and stone walls a testament to ill-gotten taxes and quiet corruption. Lanterns burned in the upper windows long after the village had gone dark, casting golden pools across manicured herb beds. Inside, the air was thick with beeswax polish, old wine, and the faint, cloying scent of rosewater that clung to everything Serna touched.
Serna herself waited in the grand bedchamber, pacing before a roaring hearth. At thirty-five, the mayor's wife was the village's untouchable prize: golden hair cascading in perfect waves to her waist, porcelain skin, and a body that turned every harvest festival into whispered sin. Her K-cup breasts were obscene—monstrous, gravity-defying orbs that strained every gown she owned, capped with pale pink nipples that poked like diamonds through silk. Her ass was a matching marvel: two massive, jelly-soft globes that wobbled with every step, wide hips swaying like a pendulum. Between those thick thighs hid a constantly weeping pussy—plump pink lips framed by a neat but untamed golden bush, always slick, always ready, no matter how primly she pretended otherwise.
Tonight she wore a robe of deep crimson silk, tied loosely at the waist. The fabric did nothing to hide the heavy sway of her tits or the way her ass cheeks shifted beneath as she moved.
I entered without knocking. The door clicked shut behind me.
Serna froze, clutching a small velvet pouch heavy with gold coins.
"You shouldn't be here," she hissed, but her voice trembled. Her eyes—ice-blue and haughty—dropped to the bulge already straining my trousers. "Take this and leave the village. No one need know you were ever chosen as Tithe-Bearer."
I stepped closer, towering over her. The firelight painted her curves in flickering gold.
"Gold won't satisfy the Spirit," I said. "But you will. One night. No rules."
Her breath caught. The pouch slipped from her fingers, coins clinking softly on the rug.
"I'm a married woman—"
"Your husband's asleep downstairs. Drunk on his own wine." I reached out, fingers brushing the silk tie at her waist. "Or so you think."
She didn't stop me when I tugged the knot free. The robe whispered open, revealing paradise: those impossible K-cups spilling forward, heavy and veined, nipples already stiff and leaking tiny pearls of milk from sheer nerves. Lower, her belly was soft and slightly rounded, leading to wide hips and that golden bush—glistening, strands matted with fresh arousal that dripped slowly down her inner thighs.
Serna's cheeks flushed crimson, but she didn't cover herself.
"On the bed," I ordered. "Ass up."
She hesitated only a heartbeat, then climbed onto the massive four-poster bed, silk sheets cool against her skin. On all fours, her tits hung like ripe fruit, swaying pendulously. Her jelly ass presented high—cheeks parting naturally to reveal her hairy pink pussy lips, swollen and drooling nectar in steady strings, and above it, a tight, untouched rosebud.
Unbeknownst to her, the mayor—Harlan—wasn't asleep. He'd heard the rumors, seen the way his wife's eyes lingered during the tithe ritual. Curiosity and something darker had pulled him from his study. Now he crouched behind a half-open wardrobe door across the room, hidden in shadow, trousers already undone. His small cock was in his fist, stroking slowly as he watched.
I stripped slowly, letting Serna hear every rustle. My cock sprang free—eleven inches of throbbing, wrist-thick meat, veins pulsing, head slick with precum. It slapped heavily against my thigh.
Serna whimpered at the sound, pushing her ass higher.
I climbed behind her, hands gripping those massive jelly cheeks and spreading them wide. The flesh overflowed my palms, rippling like waves. Her pussy gaped slightly, more juices weeping out in a fresh gush. I ignored it for now.
First, a light spank—sharp but controlled. Her right cheek jiggled wildly, turning pink. She gasped, arching.
Again—left cheek this time. Harder. The ripple traveled through her whole ass; milk sprayed from her nipples onto the sheets.
"Count them," I growled, fisting her golden hair and pulling her head back gently—light reins.
"One... two..." Her voice broke on the third as I delivered it, her hairy cunt clenching visibly, squirting a thin stream onto the bed.
I leaned down, tongue tracing her asshole—slow circles around the tight pucker. She tasted clean, faintly of rosewater. My tongue pushed inside; she moaned loudly, pushing back.
While I rimmed her, three thick fingers plunged into her sopping pussy—no resistance, just hot, velvety walls sucking greedily. Her bush tickled my knuckles as I pumped, wet *schlick-schlick* sounds filling the chamber. Her clit—fat and peeking from its hood—throbbed under my thumb.
Behind the wardrobe door, Harlan's strokes quickened. His breathing was ragged, eyes wide as he watched his pristine wife reduced to a begging slut.
I straightened, rubbing my slick cockhead against her asshole. Precum mixed with her pussy juices for lube.
"Relax," I commanded, tugging her hair again.
The fat crown pressed forward. Her ring resisted—tight, virgin—then yielded with a wet *pop*. Serna screamed into the pillow, back arching violently. Inch by brutal inch, I fed her my length, watching her ass cheeks spread and jiggle around the invasion. The stretch was obscene; her rim thinned white around my girth.
Halfway in, she came—suddenly, violently. Her whole body convulsed; milk jetted from her swinging tits in forceful arcs, soaking the sheets. Her hairy pussy spasmed untouched, squirting in rhythmic pulses that splattered my balls.
I didn't stop. Deeper—eight inches, nine—until my hips met her jelly ass with a soft *plap*. The bulge of my cock was visible through her lower belly.
Then I started thrusting. Slow at first, letting her feel every vein drag against her inner walls. Each withdrawal pulled her rim outward obscenely; each thrust buried me to the hilt, making her massive tits slap together beneath her.
The rhythm built—faster, harder. The bed creaked; her ass rippled like jelly in an earthquake. Light spanks punctuated every few strokes, turning both cheeks glowing pink.
Serna's prim facade shattered completely.
"Gods—it's too much—ruining my ass—more—please—"
I reached under, mauling one massive tit—squeezing until milk sprayed in a warm fountain. Pinched the nipple lightly, twisting just enough to make her sob with pleasure.
Harlan, hidden, was stroking frantically now—his small cock leaking, face flushed with shame and arousal. He bit his lip to stay silent as he watched me claim what was his.
I pulled out suddenly—her asshole gaping, red and twitching—and slammed into her dripping cunt for contrast. Ten brutal thrusts, her hairy lips clinging to my shaft, juices foaming at the base.
Then back to her ass—deeper, faster. Alternating until she lost count of her orgasms, babbling incoherently.
Finally, I flipped her onto her back. Legs spread wide, knees pushed to her shoulders—folding her in half. Her K-cups splayed to the sides, milk pooling in her cleavage. Her hairy pussy and stretched asshole both gaped, drooling.
I plunged into her ass again—missionary now, face to face. Her eyes rolled white as I bottomed out.
"Look at me," I growled, light slap to one jiggling tit.
She focused, tears of overwhelm streaking her perfect cheeks.
"Beg for it."
"Breed me—please—fill my ass—then my cunt—make me yours—"
I fucked her ass through another screaming climax, then switched one last time—slamming into her womb. Her hairy lips stretched thin; the bulge in her belly was massive.
I came with a roar—first load blasting deep into her cunt, flooding her womb until it overflowed in creamy rivers around my shaft, soaking her bush and the sheets.
Pulled out—still hard—and buried back in her ass for the second. Rope after thick rope painted her insides white. When I withdrew, both holes gaped, leaking twin waterfalls of seed that mixed on the bed.
Serna passed out with a stupid, blissed-out grin, body twitching in aftershocks, milk still leaking from her abused nipples.
In the shadows, Harlan shuddered silently—cumming in weak spurts into his own palm, shame burning his face as he watched my seed pour from his wife's ruined holes.
I dressed slowly, leaving her sprawled and claimed.
The manor would never be the same.