The cool, stagnant air of the hut felt like a heavy blanket as Fuyu crossed the threshold into his private quarters. Outside, the muffled voices of Nula and Susan continued to drone on, their tones thick with the kind of maternal dread that only amplified Fuyu’s systemic exhaustion. He had navigated the explosive dynamics of Lyra’s household, survived the activation of five new veins, and endured the existential weight of Vasana’s warnings. Now, all he wanted was the sweet, mindless oblivion of sleep.

He collapsed onto the dirt floor, his muscles twitching with the aftershocks of his cultivation. His eyes drifted shut, and for a moment, the world faded into a gray blur. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

But the silence didn’t last.

A sudden weight pressed into his chest—firm, warm, and deliberate. Fuyu’s eyes snapped open, his heart jolting as he found himself pinned beneath the slender but powerful leg of his sister, Lara. She stood over him, her silhouette framed by the dim light of the doorway, her hands planted firmly on her slim, arched waist. Her expression was a masterpiece of atavistic disgust.

"I heard you went to Sister Diana’s hut just to massage," Lara began, her voice a sharp, rhythmic lash. "Tsk... I am really disappointed in you, Fuyu. You’ve failed as my brother, and you’ve failed the memory of our father. I feel a deep, burning shame just being related to you. I don’t even know how I’m supposed to show my face to my friends or the relatives. You’ve become a stain on our name."

Fuyu barely heard a word she said. His focus was entirely mercenary and libidinous. From his position on the ground, the angle was devastating. Lara’s legs were long, toned, and ivory-pale against the shadows. With one foot planted squarely on his sternum and her skirt hitched up by her stance, the "sacred place" between her thighs was teasingly close.

He didn’t argue. He didn’t defend his dignity. Instead, a slow, meretricious smile spread across his lips as his eyes fixed on the dark, shadowed gap between her thick, white thighs.

Lara, caught in the flow of her own lecture, finally noticed his silence—and the direction of his predatory gaze. She followed his eyes down to her own lap, realizing that her confrontational stance had gifted him a front-row seat to her intimacy.

Instead of pulling away in shame, an irritated pout formed on her lips, but it was quickly eclipsed by a surge of rebellious, youthful fire. She was tired of being the "good girl," the "dignified daughter" of a fallen guard. If Fuyu was already "shameful" for touching feet, why shouldn’t she indulge in a little shame of her own?

"Oh... so you’re looking at this instead of listening?" Lara whispered, her voice dropping into a sultry, dangerous register.

She brought her hands down from her waist, her fingers sliding slowly, provocatively down the length of her thighs. With a sudden, fluid motion, she gathered the fabric of her skirt and lifted it completely. The dark, delicate curls of her pubic hair were revealed, framing the tight, pinkish slit of a girl who had never known the touch of a man’s seed.

The sight was an instant catalyst. Fuyu’s dick, already primed by the lingering essence of Lyra, surged to life with a primordial force. It hammered against his leaf skirt, the red-hot tip straining against the fibers until the garment slipped aside, exposing his thick, veiny erection to the air.

Lara’s eyes widened at the sight of his pulsating member, but she didn’t recoil. Instead, she leaned in, her smile turning into a hungry, libidinous grin. She brought two fingers to her own pussy, spreading the lips into a sharp V-shape. She showcased the delicate, unblemished architecture of her vagina, the pink "peephole" shimmering in the gloom. The contrast between her youthful, virgin anatomy and the heavy, powerful weapon Fuyu displayed between his legs made the air in the room feel like it was about to catch fire.

"Liked it...?" Lara asked, her voice a breathy challenge.

Fuyu let out a low, guttural hum, his chest rising and falling rapidly under her foot. He wanted to flip her onto the ground and claim her then and there, to plant his seeds in the only fertile ground he hadn’t yet plowed.

"Then... can I sit on your face?" Lara asked, her eyes narrowing as her internal restrictions began to crumble.

Without waiting for his answer, she lifted her foot from his chest and positioned herself elegantly over his head. She hovered there in a "urinating position," her moist, pink slit hovering inches from his nose. She was a girl possessed by a hidden, long-dormant desire: to feel a man’s breath against her most sensitive flesh, to feel his nose penetrate her while she held his hair like the reins of a horse.

She imagined herself as a mad whore, wiggling and humping against his face with no sense of time or dignity, letting the intoxicating smell of her own arousal drive them both to madness. She wanted to squeeze his head between her thick thighs, riding his face until she achieved a godly, visceral sensation that the good girls of the village would never know.

"You know, Lara," Fuyu said, his voice strained as he stared up at the masterpiece hovering above him. "If you don’t stop teasing, I might really do something ’bad.’ Something you can’t take back."

Lara looked down at him, her smile unfaltering. "Something bad? Hah... you’re already the ’worst’ for touching the feet of strangers. It’s so humiliating for me that it doesn’t even matter if you take my virginity forcefully. It would just be another mark on your record, wouldn’t it?"

Her words were a calculated, mercenary move. She wanted him to be forceful. She wanted to be "taken" so that she could maintain the illusion of her own innocence while finally satisfying the fire in her blood. She saw Fuyu as a jackpot—a man who understood female pleasure in a world where most men were as blunt and selfish as the bulls Manu wanted to fight.

"Oh, wow... that’s hot," a voice chimed in from the shadows. "But remember, everyone is still right outside. They can hear your ’naughty’ talk."

Lara snapped back to reality, smoothly getting off Fuyu and smoothing her skirt. She looked at the doorway, where Katty stood, her arms crossed. Katty walked toward them, her face twisted in a look of disgust that mirrored Lara’s earlier performance.

"Thanks for the reminder, I almost forgot," Lara said with a nonchalant smile.

Katty turned her gaze to Fuyu, who was now sitting up. "Hmm... but seriously, Sister Lara, he really is a pathetic creature. A stain on the name of ’man.’ Touching a woman’s feet for copper? It’s shameful. I can understand when he touches Mother, or Aunt Susan, or you, or even me—because we’re family. But a stranger? It makes me want to retch."

Fuyu didn’t bother to argue. His body was still screaming for release. In a bold, mercenary display of his own power, he reached down and squeezed his dick between his fingers. He milked the shaft in front of them, a bead of crystal-clear pre-cum welling at the tip and dripping onto the floor with a soft, wet sound.

The insult died in Katty’s throat. She stared at his big, veiny cock with a keen, primordial interest. The "disgust" was still there, but it was being rapidly overwritten by the raw reality of Fuyu’s masculinity.

Lara, unable to help herself, reached out and grabbed the thick member. It was so large that her hand couldn’t fully encircle it. She began to stroke it, her eyes glazed with a lustful anticipation. She leaned in, her pink tongue darting out to lick the red-hot head, wanting to taste the "hot gooey milk" she knew he carried.

But as her nose came close to the tip, Lara’s eyebrows furrowed. She sniffed the air, her pupils dilating. She withdrew suddenly, her grip on his shaft tightening until Fuyu hissed in pain.

"What happened, Sister Lara?" Katty asked, her voice cracking with frustration at the interrupted show.

"He... he smells like someone else," Lara whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of confusion and rising jealousy. "Did you fuck Mother or Aunt Susan just now? Or is this... someone new?"

Fuyu looked at them both, his expression neutral but his mind racing. He knew that the only way to manage the harem of his household was through total, mercenary transparency.

"It wasn’t Mother or Susan," Fuyu said, his voice calm. "It was Lyra. At the dairy."

The two girls froze. "Lyra?" Katty whispered. "Diana’s mother?"

"I massaged her," Fuyu explained, "and I mated with her right in front of Diana. She was a rich harvest, girls. More intense than anything I’ve experienced here."

The room exploded into a flurry of questions. Lara and Katty, their disgust forgotten in the face of such a scandalous revelation, crowded around him. They wanted every detail—how she looked, how she sounded, how Diana reacted. They were like two young predators sensing a new territory.

But before Fuyu could weave the tale of his conquest at the dairy, the heavy curtain of the hut was pushed aside. Manu stepped in, his face still set in the grim, determined mask of the bullfighter. The "naughty" atmosphere vanished instantly, replaced by the weight of the coming trial. The girls pulled back, Lara smoothing her hair as if she hadn’t just been hovering over her brother’s face, and they prepared to hear the details of the night’s plan.