Forty-nine years old, sun-browned arms corded from decades of swinging a hoe, thick thighs that could crush a watermelon, and a laugh that carried across three rice fields.
Three grown children (two sons working in Osaka, one daughter married in Tokyo).
A husband who had moved to the city "for work" eight years ago and only came home twice a year to sleep in the guest room and pretend everything was fine.
Everyone knew the marriage was dead.
Everyone except Mika, who still wore her wedding ring like armor.
She threw herself into the farm instead. Up at dawn, back bent over vegetables until sunset, body glistening with honest sweat. Her overalls were always half-unbuttoned, breasts barely contained, ass flexing with every step. The village men watched from a respectful distance. The women whispered that Mika was "preserving herself for no one."
Then Kai arrived.
The first time she saw him shirtless in his field (muscles rippling, jeans riding low, that obscene bulge swinging as he worked), something cracked open inside her chest.
A need she'd buried under duty and exhaustion for twenty years.
She started finding excuses to pass by his fence.
Bringing extra tomatoes. Asking to borrow tools she didn't need. Leaning over just far enough that he could see straight down her overalls to heavy, swaying breasts with no bra in sight.
Kai never pushed.
He just smiled that slow, knowing smile and let the tension build like summer thunder.
Until the day the dam finally broke.
It was the height of planting season. Mika's husband had called to say he "couldn't make it home this year either."
She'd hung up the phone, stared at the empty house for a long minute, then walked straight to Kai's barn with a bottle of homemade umeshu and ten years of pent-up ache between her thighs.
Kai was stacking hay bales when she arrived. Shirtless, sweat-slicked, muscles pumped from work.
Mika didn't speak.
She just set the bottle down, unhooked her overall straps, and let the denim fall.
Underneath: nothing but sun-kissed skin and the body of a woman who had worked the earth her whole life.
Breasts like ripe melons, heavy and slightly pendulous, dark nipples stiff in the cool air.
A soft belly with faint silver lines from carrying three babies.
Powerful thighs framing a pussy so wet it had already soaked the inside of her overalls.
"I'm tired of pretending I don't want this," she said, voice rough. "Fuck me, Kai. Fuck me like the earth needs seeding."
He didn't make her ask twice.
Kai lifted her onto the hay bales like she weighed nothing, spread those thick thighs, and buried his face between them.
Mika screamed the second his tongue touched her clit; raw, shocked, overwhelmed. She hadn't been eaten in fifteen years. Hadn't come from anything but her own fingers in longer.
She came twice before he even stood up, gushing over his chin, strong legs shaking around his head.
Then he freed his cock and Mika actually whimpered at the sight: nine inches, thick as her wrist, angry red and leaking.
He entered her in one slow, relentless push.
Mika's back arched off the hay, eyes rolling back, a guttural moan tearing from her throat. She was impossibly tight, walls fluttering and clenching from years of neglect. Kai bottomed out and held still, letting her adjust, watching tears of pure relief slip down her sun-browned cheeks.
Then he started to move.
Deep.
Hard.
Possessive.
Every thrust slammed into her cervix and made those heavy breasts bounce wildly. Hay scratched her back. The barn filled with the wet slap of skin on skin, her broken sobs, his low growls.
Mika came again and again, squirting so hard it soaked the hay beneath them, thighs spasming around his hips.
When Kai finally let go, he pulled her legs over his shoulders, drove in to the root, and flooded her with thick, endless ropes of cum. Mika screamed his name, pussy milking him greedily, like her body had been waiting its entire life for this exact moment.
Afterward she lay wrecked and glowing in the hay, cum leaking from her swollen pussy, thighs still trembling.
"I want more," she whispered hoarsely. "Every day. Every night. I don't care who knows."
Kai kissed her slow and deep.
"Then come home with me."
She did.
That night, while Sayuri watched Haru and smiled knowingly, Mika rode Kai in his bed until the sun came up; powerful hips rolling, breasts bouncing, taking him again and again until they were both raw and dripping and laughing from sheer joy.
In the morning she took off her wedding ring and threw it into the rice field.
The earth swallowed it without a sound.
And Mika (strong, proud, unbreakable Mika) finally let herself belong to someone who saw her not as a wife, not as a mother, but as a woman who deserved to be fucked senseless every single day for the rest of her life.
She never looked back.