Chapter 1
The night was deep, and the surroundings were quiet. In an entire apartment complex, only the windows of a few homes emitted light. Reginald, in a fine garb, a middle-aged man with a round belly and reeking of alcohol, staggered up the stairway, leaning heavily against the walls. A few minutes later, he knocked on a door on the second floor. It was past 1 AM, and his wife Beatrice Fairchild was still awake, waiting for her husband to come home. Upon hearing the knock, Beatrice, who was sitting on the sofa in the guest hall, quickly stood up. Soon, the door opened. The drunken Reginald was half-carried into the room by Beatrice. Without delay, Reginald pushed her onto the sofa, his alcohol-laden breath invading her mouth as he kissed her forcefully. His fingers, thick and hairy, groped at her chest, while his tongue clumsily probed into her mouth. Beatrice's brow furrowed slightly. She disliked the taste of alcohol, but her husband loved to drink and always sought her out for intimacy when he returned home drunk. His tongue darted around her mouth, tasting of alcohol and food, overwhelming her senses. His fingers pinched her nipple roughly. Reginald swallowed, hungrily sucking on her lips and tongue. After a long kiss, Beatrice finally got a chance to breathe. Reginald buried his head in her chest, sucking on her hard, swollen nipples and the soft, white flesh around them. Beatrice arched her back, a deep, smoldering desire in her eyes, her well-maintained face tinted with a faint blush. Reginald sucked noisily at her breasts, leaving marks and his scent on them. He unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants. Beatrice's panties were removed, her nightgown pushed up to her chest, revealing her pale skin and dark, thick pubic hair. Reginald parted her legs and pushed his stubby, short member into her wet, inviting warmth. He lay on top of her, his heavy body grinding against her belly. "Ah... ah... does it feel good, my whore? Does your sweet pussy feel good?” "Yes... husband, you're so good at this... it feels amazing... ah... ah..." Beatrice's body trembled with each thrust, their union producing wet, squelching sounds as his thick member moved in and out of her. Beatrice looked at her husband with hazy eyes, wishing he could stay inside her forever. It wasn’t enough, never enough. She needed him deeper, to touch her innermost places. Reginald suddenly sped up, his short, thick member thrusting in and out of her long, yearning canal. Beatrice screamed in pleasure, hoping he would keep this pace, but he came too quickly. A stream of semen filled her still-hungry depths, and Reginald collapsed heavily on top of her, his snores soon resonating through the room. With great effort, Beatrice pushed him off and tidied herself. She went to the bathroom, fetched a bowl of water, and carefully undressed her husband, wiping his face, chest, and arms with a warm cloth. When she reached his flaccid member, she couldn't help but stare at it for a moment. Why couldn’t it be a bit longer? She had been married to Reginald for over twenty years and had given him two children. Their life was generally happy, with their children well-behaved and her husband a traditional man who, while liking his drink, remained faithful. At home, he was like any average man, waiting for his wife to serve him, never picking up anything if he dropped it. But Beatrice was content. She had never worked and was financially supported by her husband. Reginald never said a harsh word to her. The only downside was that he wasn’t particularly skilled in bed. Two or three minutes was typically his limit, and sometimes he couldn’t even last until he was fully inside her. Reginald never suggested seeing a doctor for it, and Beatrice was too conservative to mention it herself. Besides, she feared hurting his pride.
Chapter 2
Beatrice Fairchild sighed as she saw Cedric Strong passed out on the couch, deeply asleep. She nodded to Luna Everhart, signaling her to leave the unconscious man there, as was their usual routine. Once alone, she slipped into the Sleeping Quarters. Lying on the cot, she turned off the light. Beatrice didn’t go to sleep right away. Instead, she reached down between her legs, sliding her hand into her underwear. Her fingers moved through the unkempt forest of hair, finding their way inside. She moaned softly, the pressure of her fingers pleasurable against her sensitive flesh. "Ahh," she sighed, thoroughly enjoying herself. She curled one leg up, lifting her sleep dress to her collarbone, and began to knead her ample breasts, squeezing and massaging the soft flesh that overflowed her fingers. Her head lolled to the side, her tongue darting out in long, languorous strokes as if tasting something delicious, though there was nothing there. "Ahhh," she sighed again, fingers moving quickly within her, mingling her own juices with remnants of her husband's earlier deposit. The pleasure was almost overwhelming as she kneaded her breasts harder, but it still wasn't enough. She wanted something more, something thicker, something that would leave her utterly filled and spent. Her fingers were just a temporary fix; she craved the weight and satisfaction of a real man's touch, one who knew how to drive her to the peak of ecstasy. "Ahh, ahh," she gasped, her hand working furiously, causing the fat on her thighs and belly to jiggle. "Anyone will do," she thought, in the heat of the moment. "Just fill me, fuck me hard." Suddenly, she arched her back, lifting her hips off the cot as a torrent of fluid gushed out, soaking the sheets beneath her. She collapsed, legs splayed wide, continuing to stimulate herself, switching between rubbing her hard nipples and plunging her fingers in and out of her wet core. Her tongue lolled out once more as she moaned. "Fuck, I need more," she panted, her body thrashing slightly. The bed beneath her was slick with her juices, the sheets damp and clinging to her skin. She finally slowed, the waves of her climax still echoing in her mind, her fingers withdrawing, glistening. She brought them to her lips and sucked them clean, savoring the taste. In the darkness of the room, Beatrice felt she could be truly herself. In front of her husband, she maintained a facade of modesty, but alone, she let go. Many times, after Cedric came home drunk and had his way with her on the couch, she would retreat to the neighboring room and indulge in her own forbidden pleasures. But the satisfaction never lasted. Physically satiated, she remained emotionally unsatisfied. She longed to experience a climax at the hands of someone other than Cedric—someone who truly knew what they were doing. She fantasized frequently about a strong, virile man with a thick, powerful cock that could drive her wild. But no matter how many times she imagined it, she never dared voice her desires, nor act on them. Beatrice loved Cedric and their home, but she was desperate for more. She often wished her fantasies would take shape in her dreams, but they never did. After changing the sheets, Beatrice lay back down and quickly fell asleep, her body and mind still tingling from the release.
Chapter 3
In the soft glow of the night, a small creature known as the Dreambeast danced along the walls of Fairchild Manor. It was pure white, about 8 inches long, covered in fluffy fur, and sported two long, rabbit-like ears. Adorned with tiny golden bells that jingled as it moved, it had a plump body and a round, wiggling tail. This enchanting being, named Luna Everhart, had made its way from The Guest Hall and was now peering at Cedric Strong, who lay sprawled on the couch. With a flicker of its ears, the bells chimed melodiously. Luna moved gracefully through the air, as if walking on solid ground, its ears perked back while its short legs paddled toward the master bedroom. Inside, Beatrice Fairchild was sound asleep—or so it seemed. Even if she had been awake, the courtly beings could not comprehend the Dreambeasts like Luna Everhart. Luna's mission was clear: it sensed a deep yearning in Beatrice's heart and was there to help fulfill her dream. In the realm of dreams, Luna would bring glimpses of those hidden wants. Each Dreambeast held the power to weave dreams, but Luna had a particular focus; it specialized in matters of passion. Now, it floated near the bed, observing Beatrice's tranquil form and honing in on her forehead. Yearning Color: White White indicated a state of normalcy. Even with fantasies and desires lingering in her heart, Beatrice merely wished to have those dreams realized while she slept. Thus, upon waking, she might find herself subtly influenced, possibly acting in ways that seemed entirely rational. With cat-like motions, Luna curled its body around itself and closed its large, round eyes, allowing the bells to emit a sweet, bell-like sound. Beatrice Fairchild stirred, frowning as she was pulled from her slumber. The late hour brought her to wonder who could be knocking. She flicked on the lamp, sitting up as Cedric Strong, her husband, snored peacefully on the couch, maintaining the position he'd adopted earlier, his lower half wrapped in a soft blanket she’d placed for him. Approaching the door, Beatrice called out in a controlled tone, "Who is it?" The knocking continued, a steady rhythm disturbing the quiet of the night. "Delivery!" came a deep, resonant voice through the door, sending a pleasant shiver down Beatrice's spine. A mental image of a tall, rugged man appeared in her mind, embodying that very same voice. With that thought, she replied, "I didn’t order any delivery." “Right,” the man responded. “This cake is addressed to Beatrice Fairchild. Are you Ms. Fairchild?” His words struck a chord with her; her last name was indeed mentioned. “But I honestly didn’t order anything,” she insisted. The man persisted, “The address is correct, Ms. Fairchild. Please, open the door. It’s for you, and I need your signature.” Beatrice hesitated, doubt gnawing at her. “Ms. Fairchild, please, if you don’t sign for it, I’ll lose my job,” the man added, urgency creeping into his tone. "Fine, just a moment," she finally relented, turning back to her bedroom and quickly slipping on a robe over her nightgown—a delicate camisole that belonged to Cedric. Meeting a stranger at the door in such a state felt improper. Returning to the door, she didn’t immediately open it but instead peered through the peephole. A broad-shouldered man in a white tank top stood outside, his close-cropped hair accentuating his muscular physique. His very presence radiated raw masculinity, and even through the door, Beatrice felt the heat of his charisma. Her heart raced as she unlocked the door, revealing the delivery man, who was holding a cake box with a bright smile. "Ms. Fairchild, it’s a pleasure to meet you." Beatrice’s heart skipped again as she instinctively looked away, nervously brushing her hair back while eyeing the cake. “This is curious... who ordered this cake for me?” “It was me, Ms. Fairchild.” The man stepped closer, his solid presence almost overwhelming. He leaned in slightly, narrowing the distance, and with steady strength, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her gently but firmly toward him. “It’s my birthday today. Will you join me for cake?”
Chapter 4
Beatrice Fairchild finally reacted to Luna, pushing Cedric Strong away with all her might: "Let go, let go, what are you doing?" Careful not to raise her voice too much, fearing she would disturb the neighbors. "Stop being so naughty," Cedric replied. "I just wanted to get you to share a piece of cake with me. Your chest is so soft, the way you push me makes it seem like you're resisting but also inviting." Beatrice struggled, with Cedric's arm so tightly wrapped around her that her body was pressed against him, her ample chest bouncing with every struggle. Her frustration peaked, and she bit down hard on Cedric's chest. "Oh sweetie, you must really want that cake," he said, holding her tightly and closing the door behind them. He turned around and pinned her against the door. Beatrice's face turned pale with fear. What was Cedric planning? He whispered in her ear, "Beatrice, no need to resist anymore. You know you want me. Your husband is sound asleep and won't notice us. I just want us to have a pleasant night together. Won't you indulge me?" His deep, rich voice was intoxicating, especially when whispered beside her ear. His hand was skillfully playing with her breasts, teasing her nipple until she felt weak all over, legs trembling. "Baby, you smell so good. Just thinking about you wrapping yourself around me excites me so much that it hurts. Don't you want to feel my excitement?" he murmured, sucking on her neck, sending waves of sensation through her body, a mix of resistance, titillation, and longing. She couldn't hold out any longer. She wanted him. Cedric was too strong to resist. He guided her hand to his crotch, even through his pants she could feel his long, thick length. Beatrice instinctively pressed her thighs together, feeling the arousal building, her juices beginning to flow. Her mind foggy, she couldn't help but think how good it would feel to have something so big and thick inside her. Cedric unzipped his pants, exposing himself, guiding her hand to grasp his shaft. "Beatrice, feel it properly." She swallowed nervously, her hand circling his hardness. So thick. She couldn't even wrap her whole hand around it. Her arousal grew even more, juices dripping with anticipation. Cedric, his head buried in her chest, grabbed her breasts with both hands, squeezing and sucking her nipples fervently. Catching sight of her husband asleep on the couch, Beatrice snapped back to reality, letting go of Cedric's manhood in panic. "No, you need to leave." She pushed at his shoulders. Cedric remained unmoved, releasing her nipple from his mouth: "Leave? Oh Beatrice, look how hard your nipples are. I sucked them stiff, perky. Are you wet for me, my dear?" He crouched down, face pressing between her legs. Beatrice blushed fiercely; her husband had never been this close to her intimate parts. Cedric lifted her skirt, his face diving in. Shaking with fear, she felt him nuzzling her dense groin, inhaling deeply, his voice filled with delight: "Is this your scent, Beatrice? So intoxicating, so arousing." Her blush deepened, as Cedric lifted one of her legs, pleading: "Beatrice, please, let me taste you." Beatrice shut her eyes tightly. She had always wanted this. But even to kiss her breasts like tonight was considered ample foreplay with her husband. Usually, it would be just a few rubs before he'd plunge in directly. No regard for her readiness. Thankfully, she had strong desires in this aspect and got wet quickly. This time was no different. Leaning back against the door, she felt Cedric kiss and suck on her secret spot, her body shuddering with pleasure. At some point, Cedric had undressed her. The straps of her dress clung to her upper arms, the neckline trapped below her breasts, making them quiver with every shiver, her areolas large and her nipples dark and swollen.
Chapter 5
Beatrice Fairchild leaned her head against the door, biting her lower lip to keep from crying out. Was this what it felt like to be licked so intimately? It was beyond words how good it felt. The man of the court worshipped her with his mouth, sucking and nibbling on her most sensitive places. Beatrice felt her arousal flow uncontrollably, an itch deep inside her that she desperately wanted him to satisfy with his tongue. "Ah~ Ah~ Please, just do it already," she whimpered. Her quivering flesh moved hungrily, and she reached down to hold his head, voicing her deepest cravings. "Please, go deeper, I'm begging you," Beatrice whispered. She was desperate for him. He responded by plunging his tongue inside her entrance, sending shivers through her body. Her inner muscles tightened around his long tongue as she looked down, her eyes clouded with desire. "Good boy, go deeper," she urged, pressing his head closer. To her, he was Wren, even though he was younger than her. Anyone with such prowess became Wren in her eyes. The man's vigorous tongue and the pleasure it brought felt overwhelmingly good, making her moan as she leaked more of her essence. She thought she heard him swallowing, and the sensation of his long tongue drove her hips to move in rhythm with his actions. Her breasts wobbled with the motion, and her whole body felt like it was being filled with the pleasure she had never fully experienced from her husband before. She was finally receiving what she had been longing for. Beatrice went wild, one foot perched on the man’s broad shoulder. "Wren, just like that... Yes, do me harder... Ahh..." she cried out as she finally reached her climax. It was the first time she had experienced such ecstasy from him. Eyes rolling back and trembling, Beatrice clung to his head as waves of pleasure washed over her, spilling out of her in torrents. She gasped for air, her mouth wide open. The man of the court swallowed her juices, his throat working hurriedly. Bent over, Beatrice held his head with both hands, looking down at him through hazy eyes. In that moment, she was utterly satisfied both in body and mind. He stood up, lowering her leg from his shoulder, whispering softly to her, "Lady Fairchild, you taste so sweet." He nibbled on her lower lip, drawing it into his mouth to suck gently. Beatrice’s lip was captured between his, his tongue probing within to entwine with hers. There was no taste of alcohol or leftover food, only her own essence mixed with his strong, masculine scent. Her body felt weak and her mind dizzy as she responded to him, their tongues dancing together. She forgot about her husband, who lay on the couch nearby. The man of the court lifted her legs once more, pressing his hot, hard arousal against her entrance. "Lady Fairchild, take me in, will you?" he whispered in her ear. "Yes, please, hurry!" she urged, her hands clasping tightly around his neck. She was aching now, desperate for him. As he entered her, the walls of her inner sanctuary stretched to accommodate him, filling her in a way she had never felt before. Her whole body seemed to melt with the sheer completeness of it, every fiber of her being tingling with pleasure. Holding her legs, he thrust hard, his manhood delving deep into her core. It was a sensation she had never experienced before, making her scream and lose herself entirely, wanting more and more of this forbidden pleasure.
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