95. The beast he raised
Bjorn hastily laid down his wife, who no longer needed to be undressed. Her skin, contrasting with the crimson blanket, shone even more pale and translucent.
Erna's eyes, wandering across the distant sky, stopped once again on Bjorn's face. Deep in the night, even in bed, the woman who would cower in shame today smiled unhesitatingly at his gaze. The shadows of the leaves swaying on her slowly rising and falling chest were beautiful, like the delicately patterned lace she loved.
Bjorn, trying not to be impatient, kissed her lips. He enjoyed the taste of wine on Erna's tongue, which responded with more enthusiasm than usual. So did the sound of her breathing, which was gradually becoming more rapid, and the gentle touch of her hands ruffling his hair and stroking the nape of his neck.
Bjorn, letting go of her swollen lips, began to trace her slender neck. When his lips touched the ribbon tied there, a reflexive laugh escaped his lips. When he laughed, Erna laughed too. Her innocence made her even more cheeky.
Bjorn had to let out deep sighs several times to suppress the urge to just climb up and thrust like crazy. He knew she'd accept it, but he didn't want to. He didn't know why, but whatever.
As Bjorn's lips, staining her neck and collarbone red, swallowed her breasts, Erna moaned like a purring kitten. Reflexively, she pulled the mat and blanket back, her joints protruding white on the backs of her hands. The sound of empty bottles and glasses falling could be heard, but no one paid any attention.
Erna slowly counted, but at some point, she forgot even that and just gasped for breath. With each small thump on her curled toes, the wrinkles on the crumpled picnic mat became more and more distinct. Bjorn's lips, unusually persistent today, finally let go when Erna felt as if she couldn't breathe.
Erna, gasping for breath in relief, suddenly felt her legs open, startling her. The butterfly, perched on the tipped-over wine bottle, flapped its delicate wings and soared into the sky.
“Bjorn...?”
Even when she called his name, Bjorn didn't respond.
Erna, who belatedly realized where his gaze was, squirmed and curled her legs together. But the large, firm hand that grabbed her ankle easily broke her resistance.
“Don’t do that.”
Erna flinched, overcome by shame that even her drunkenness couldn't fully conceal. She struggled to free her ankle, but Bjorn didn't budge. Sunlight settled on his narrowed eyes, as if assessing something.
Erna stared at him with hazy eyes. Consciousness suddenly returned to her senses the moment the corners of Bjorn's mouth slightly quirked upward. By the time she realized the meaning of that smile, Bjorn's lips were already between her spread legs. Erna's pride, which she had thought she knew quite a bit about bedroom affairs, was shattered.
The sound of birds taking flight, startled by a scream-like groan, shook the secret meadow in the forest.
Bjorn, holding onto Erna tightly as she struggled to escape, began to pursue his curious desires without hesitation. It was unfamiliar to him, but it wasn't difficult. When Bjorn, who had been licking and devouring her with a voracious appetite, raised his head, Erna was panting and sobbing.
Bjorn kissed Erna's trembling thigh, lifted her limply, and sat her on his lap. The golden sunlight, now at a different angle, illuminated the two people facing each other.
As Bjorn smiled and licked his wet lips, Erna's heart began to pound even faster. It felt as if flowers were blooming deep within her, butterflies were taking flight.
Erna, feeling both good and lost, impulsively kissed Bjorn. It had started with a desire to erase the embarrassing mark on his lips, but at some point, she couldn't think of anything else.
“Erna. Erna, wait.”
Bjorn looked at his wife with slightly surprised eyes.
Erna, blinking slowly, let out a small sigh and smiled. "Yeah, I know," Erna muttered to herself, then tugged at his pants without giving him a chance to stop her.
Bjorn, who had been laughing in amazement, let out a ragged breath. Erna was already positioned between his legs.
Seriously, what the...
The unintended situation was embarrassing, but before he could stop her, Erna began diligently implementing what she had learned. Shy yet steady, step by step. With the demeanor of a diligent lady who diligently pursues anything.
When Erna's hand touched his already hardened lower body, Bjorn muttered a low curse and tilted his head back. His drunken wife, oblivious to this, continued to diligently go about her business.
Bjorn gave a heated laugh and clutched her round brown hair.
The day he finally succumbed to his own desires, soothing a sobbing woman, flashed through his mind in a peaceful landscape. Erna was in pain, but he didn't pay much attention. I knew she was a woman who could eventually get her way with a simple smile or a kind word.
But now, the strange feeling he felt anew seemed to be because this was Erna's hometown. It was the scene where she had played house, made flower rings, and run around.
“Does it hurt?”
Erna suddenly raised her head and asked a question filled with serious concern.
Bjorn swallowed dryly and shook his head. No. Erna, who had been tilting her head at the subdued voice that sounded unfamiliar even to her ears, soon regained her smile.
"Stop." He whispered softly, but Erna stared at him again, as if she hadn't heard a word. The ragged breath that had escaped her newly parted, red lips was now dry and clinging to her with heat.
Bjorn paid tribute to the fertile soil of this rural region, which had produced the finest grapes. Whatever they had done to the wine, Burford's wines deserved to be among the best in Letzen, or indeed on the continent.
“Stop it, Erna.”
Bjorn groaned, grabbing Erna's hair in a hurry.
“Bjorn?”
“Stay still... stay still, please.”
Bjorn barely managed to hold on, recalling the faces of all the unfortunate beings he'd left behind. Today was a day to be thankful for Burford's wine in many ways. Had it not been for the alcohol, he might have endured considerable humiliation.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Erna, who had been holding her breath, slowly sat up and faced him. Her expression became even more serious as she met Bjorn's eyes, who had finally caught his breath.
Erna finally breathed a sigh of relief as she laughed in amazement. Then, quietly, she kissed him by surprise.
“This is your taste.”
Looking into Bjorn's narrowed eyes, Erna muttered some obscene words.
“I don’t know if I should actually call this feeling delicious, but I think it’s good. Because it’s you.”
Erna looked straight at the dumbfounded Bjorn and delivered the final blow.
He raised a beast.
Looking at Erna, her face bright and beaming, her consciousness fading away, Bjorn was struck with a renewed sense of wonder. He felt he could understand Leonid's desire to remain at university and cultivate future generations.
Having lost even the time to undress, Bjorn impatiently thrust into Erna, who was perched on his lap. Though she groaned and twisted her waist as if she were burdened, Erna obediently accepted him.
As time passed, Erna, struggling to cope with the intoxication that was deepening, swayed, half-conscious. The sky, white with clouds drifting by. The light green leaves sparkled like jewels. The afternoon sunlight. And Bjorn. Everything in her blinking vision was dazzlingly beautiful. Above all, Bjorn. The man inside her was like that.
Bjorn, who had been lying on the floor with Erna, who kept falling down, corrected his posture and began to push her with even more ferocity.
A little more. A little more.
Under him, gripped by an inexplicable impatience, Erna groaned and thrashed unconcealedly. She knew there was a hint of pain mixed in with her gasping moans, but it was already beyond her control.
What, what on earth has changed?
The question, which had no answer, made Bjorn more impatient and fierce.
As if clearing his mind of meaningless distractions, Bjorn focused solely on the woman sobbing beneath him. He found this sight amusing, but not unpleasant.
When their eyes met, Erna's lips parted slightly, as if she were eating a piece of fruit. Bjorn, weeping, eagerly kissed her lips, as if praising his wife who had only looked at him. Erna, clinging to him with her whole body, was maddeningly soft and warm. Bjorn wanted to know only one thing.
At the last moment, Erna hugged him tightly. Suddenly, Bjorn's spine jerked slightly as he stopped moving, and a warm sensation spread through Erna.
Erna stared at the shadows of the leaves swaying above her, eyes unfocused. A heavy weight weighed on her, suffocating her, but soon her vision shifted. Where the branches and sky vanished, there was Bjorn. She smiled, delighted by this, and he smiled back.
The two remained in silence as their sweaty bodies cooled. Though worried that it might be too heavy, Erna decided to indulge in a little selfish tantrum.
“What about you...”
As her breathing slowed down, Erna muttered in a daze.
“It’s warm, and it’s so big and hard, but it’s still soft.”
“Stop it, you drunkard.”
Bjorn sighed and laughed, but Erna didn't stop.
"It's so good. I'm a lady, so I won't use harsh language, but please think it's good enough to warrant such a comment."
In the wind that carried a pleasant scent, the beast he had raised whispered.
Bjorn embraced Erna with a sigh of sweet resignation. Having received such a satisfying gift, it was time to be affectionate.
He was willing to accept the deal.
Bjorn hastily laid down his wife, who no longer needed to be undressed. Her skin, contrasting with the crimson blanket, shone even more pale and translucent.
Erna's eyes, wandering across the distant sky, stopped once again on Bjorn's face. Deep in the night, even in bed, the woman who would cower in shame today smiled unhesitatingly at his gaze. The shadows of the leaves swaying on her slowly rising and falling chest were beautiful, like the delicately patterned lace she loved.
Bjorn, trying not to be impatient, kissed her lips. He enjoyed the taste of wine on Erna's tongue, which responded with more enthusiasm than usual. So did the sound of her breathing, which was gradually becoming more rapid, and the gentle touch of her hands ruffling his hair and stroking the nape of his neck.
Bjorn, letting go of her swollen lips, began to trace her slender neck. When his lips touched the ribbon tied there, a reflexive laugh escaped his lips. When he laughed, Erna laughed too. Her innocence made her even more cheeky.
Bjorn had to let out deep sighs several times to suppress the urge to just climb up and thrust like crazy. He knew she'd accept it, but he didn't want to. He didn't know why, but whatever.
As Bjorn's lips, staining her neck and collarbone red, swallowed her breasts, Erna moaned like a purring kitten. Reflexively, she pulled the mat and blanket back, her joints protruding white on the backs of her hands. The sound of empty bottles and glasses falling could be heard, but no one paid any attention.
Erna slowly counted, but at some point, she forgot even that and just gasped for breath. With each small thump on her curled toes, the wrinkles on the crumpled picnic mat became more and more distinct. Bjorn's lips, unusually persistent today, finally let go when Erna felt as if she couldn't breathe.
Erna, gasping for breath in relief, suddenly felt her legs open, startling her. The butterfly, perched on the tipped-over wine bottle, flapped its delicate wings and soared into the sky.
“Bjorn...?”
Even when she called his name, Bjorn didn't respond.
Erna, who belatedly realized where his gaze was, squirmed and curled her legs together. But the large, firm hand that grabbed her ankle easily broke her resistance.
“Don’t do that.”
Erna flinched, overcome by shame that even her drunkenness couldn't fully conceal. She struggled to free her ankle, but Bjorn didn't budge. Sunlight settled on his narrowed eyes, as if assessing something.
Erna stared at him with hazy eyes. Consciousness suddenly returned to her senses the moment the corners of Bjorn's mouth slightly quirked upward. By the time she realized the meaning of that smile, Bjorn's lips were already between her spread legs. Erna's pride, which she had thought she knew quite a bit about bedroom affairs, was shattered.
The sound of birds taking flight, startled by a scream-like groan, shook the secret meadow in the forest.
Bjorn, holding onto Erna tightly as she struggled to escape, began to pursue his curious desires without hesitation. It was unfamiliar to him, but it wasn't difficult. When Bjorn, who had been licking and devouring her with a voracious appetite, raised his head, Erna was panting and sobbing.
Bjorn kissed Erna's trembling thigh, lifted her limply, and sat her on his lap. The golden sunlight, now at a different angle, illuminated the two people facing each other.
As Bjorn smiled and licked his wet lips, Erna's heart began to pound even faster. It felt as if flowers were blooming deep within her, butterflies were taking flight.
Erna, feeling both good and lost, impulsively kissed Bjorn. It had started with a desire to erase the embarrassing mark on his lips, but at some point, she couldn't think of anything else.
“Erna. Erna, wait.”
Bjorn looked at his wife with slightly surprised eyes.
Erna, blinking slowly, let out a small sigh and smiled. "Yeah, I know," Erna muttered to herself, then tugged at his pants without giving him a chance to stop her.
Bjorn, who had been laughing in amazement, let out a ragged breath. Erna was already positioned between his legs.
Seriously, what the...
The unintended situation was embarrassing, but before he could stop her, Erna began diligently implementing what she had learned. Shy yet steady, step by step. With the demeanor of a diligent lady who diligently pursues anything.
When Erna's hand touched his already hardened lower body, Bjorn muttered a low curse and tilted his head back. His drunken wife, oblivious to this, continued to diligently go about her business.
Bjorn gave a heated laugh and clutched her round brown hair.
The day he finally succumbed to his own desires, soothing a sobbing woman, flashed through his mind in a peaceful landscape. Erna was in pain, but he didn't pay much attention. I knew she was a woman who could eventually get her way with a simple smile or a kind word.
But now, the strange feeling he felt anew seemed to be because this was Erna's hometown. It was the scene where she had played house, made flower rings, and run around.
“Does it hurt?”
Erna suddenly raised her head and asked a question filled with serious concern.
Bjorn swallowed dryly and shook his head. No. Erna, who had been tilting her head at the subdued voice that sounded unfamiliar even to her ears, soon regained her smile.
"Stop." He whispered softly, but Erna stared at him again, as if she hadn't heard a word. The ragged breath that had escaped her newly parted, red lips was now dry and clinging to her with heat.
Bjorn paid tribute to the fertile soil of this rural region, which had produced the finest grapes. Whatever they had done to the wine, Burford's wines deserved to be among the best in Letzen, or indeed on the continent.
“Stop it, Erna.”
Bjorn groaned, grabbing Erna's hair in a hurry.
“Bjorn?”
“Stay still... stay still, please.”
Bjorn barely managed to hold on, recalling the faces of all the unfortunate beings he'd left behind. Today was a day to be thankful for Burford's wine in many ways. Had it not been for the alcohol, he might have endured considerable humiliation.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Erna, who had been holding her breath, slowly sat up and faced him. Her expression became even more serious as she met Bjorn's eyes, who had finally caught his breath.
Erna finally breathed a sigh of relief as she laughed in amazement. Then, quietly, she kissed him by surprise.
“This is your taste.”
Looking into Bjorn's narrowed eyes, Erna muttered some obscene words.
“I don’t know if I should actually call this feeling delicious, but I think it’s good. Because it’s you.”
Erna looked straight at the dumbfounded Bjorn and delivered the final blow.
He raised a beast.
Looking at Erna, her face bright and beaming, her consciousness fading away, Bjorn was struck with a renewed sense of wonder. He felt he could understand Leonid's desire to remain at university and cultivate future generations.
Having lost even the time to undress, Bjorn impatiently thrust into Erna, who was perched on his lap. Though she groaned and twisted her waist as if she were burdened, Erna obediently accepted him.
As time passed, Erna, struggling to cope with the intoxication that was deepening, swayed, half-conscious. The sky, white with clouds drifting by. The light green leaves sparkled like jewels. The afternoon sunlight. And Bjorn. Everything in her blinking vision was dazzlingly beautiful. Above all, Bjorn. The man inside her was like that.
Bjorn, who had been lying on the floor with Erna, who kept falling down, corrected his posture and began to push her with even more ferocity.
A little more. A little more.
Under him, gripped by an inexplicable impatience, Erna groaned and thrashed unconcealedly. She knew there was a hint of pain mixed in with her gasping moans, but it was already beyond her control.
What, what on earth has changed?
The question, which had no answer, made Bjorn more impatient and fierce.
As if clearing his mind of meaningless distractions, Bjorn focused solely on the woman sobbing beneath him. He found this sight amusing, but not unpleasant.
When their eyes met, Erna's lips parted slightly, as if she were eating a piece of fruit. Bjorn, weeping, eagerly kissed her lips, as if praising his wife who had only looked at him. Erna, clinging to him with her whole body, was maddeningly soft and warm. Bjorn wanted to know only one thing.
At the last moment, Erna hugged him tightly. Suddenly, Bjorn's spine jerked slightly as he stopped moving, and a warm sensation spread through Erna.
Erna stared at the shadows of the leaves swaying above her, eyes unfocused. A heavy weight weighed on her, suffocating her, but soon her vision shifted. Where the branches and sky vanished, there was Bjorn. She smiled, delighted by this, and he smiled back.
The two remained in silence as their sweaty bodies cooled. Though worried that it might be too heavy, Erna decided to indulge in a little selfish tantrum.
“What about you...”
As her breathing slowed down, Erna muttered in a daze.
“It’s warm, and it’s so big and hard, but it’s still soft.”
“Stop it, you drunkard.”
Bjorn sighed and laughed, but Erna didn't stop.
"It's so good. I'm a lady, so I won't use harsh language, but please think it's good enough to warrant such a comment."
In the wind that carried a pleasant scent, the beast he had raised whispered.
Bjorn embraced Erna with a sigh of sweet resignation. Having received such a satisfying gift, it was time to be affectionate.
He was willing to accept the deal.
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