NTR MILF: I Was Summoned by Thirsty MILFs to Breed Them-Chapter 24: The Summer House Wife

The rain had vanished by first light, leaving the world steaming and bright. Alex stepped out of the cottage with the taste of Sofia and Marisol still on his tongue, their glowing bellies and wrecked moans echoing in his head.

He found the others in the old stone barn, hair damp, clothes half-buttoned, all four of them grinning like cats who’d stolen the cream.

Alicia leaned against a hay bale, arms crossed under her breasts, green eyes sparkling. "Took you long enough. We were about to send a search party... or join it."

Lilia’s silver hair glowed in the morning sun as she laughed softly. "Two palace maids at once? The queen will be proud."

Nyx flicked her tail. "We heard everything. Sounded like you broke the cottage more than the storm did."

Serena just smirked and handed him a waterskin. "Drink. You’ll need it for the rest of the day."

They teased him all the way back to the carriage, but it was fond, proud, the way only women who already owned pieces of his heart could tease.

That night they slept in the royal summer palace on the lake. The next morning a new royal scroll arrived, sealed in gold wax.

Queen Isabella’s elegant script was simple:

"Do not let the villages feel forgotten. Every corner of my kingdom deserves your seed. Start with Oakshade Hamlet. The harvest wives there have waited longest."

Alicia, Nyx, and Serena had other duties (border inspections, beastkin negotiations). So only Alex and Lilia rode out together in a light open carriage, just the two of them, her silver hair streaming in the warm wind, his hand already resting high on her glowing thigh.

Oakshade was a tiny farming hamlet: golden wheat fields, wooden houses with paper screens and tiled roofs like something from old Earth Japan, cicadas singing in the heat.

They were given the largest traditional house at the edge of the rice paddies: tatami floors, sliding shoji doors, a wide veranda overlooking the fields.

The husband, Jiro, was a quiet, sun-browned farmer in his late thirties. He bowed low when they arrived, eyes flicking to Alex’s broad shoulders and the obvious bulge in his light summer robes.

"My wife Hana will care for you while I work the far field," he said, voice steady but resigned. He already knew.

Jiro left at noon, carrying a hoe over one shoulder, never looking back.

Hana returned from the morning harvest an hour later.

She stepped onto the veranda in a simple white cotton maxi dress, soaked with sweat, clinging to every curve like it had been painted on.

Thirty-four years old, sun-kissed skin, long black hair tied in a loose knot with loose strands stuck to her neck and cheeks. The dress was sleeveless, thin straps over strong shoulders, neckline low enough to show the deep valley between heavy, milk-heavy breasts that swayed with every breath. The fabric stuck to her round belly (soft from years of field work), then flared over wide, powerful hips and a fat, heart-shaped ass that shifted when she walked.

Sweat had made the dress nearly transparent in places: dark nipples clearly visible, the shadow between her thighs, the faint outline of trimmed curls.

She bowed low, breasts nearly spilling forward.

"Welcome, my lord... Lady Lilia. I... I have prepared bath and food."

Her voice was soft country accent, trembling just slightly.

Alex stood slowly, letting his gaze drag over her from head to toe.

Lilia leaned against a pillar, silver hair glowing in the sun, smiling like she already knew how this would end.

Hana’s eyes flicked to the growing bulge in Alex’s robe, then away, cheeks burning.

Alex stepped closer.

"Jiro left you here alone with me," he said quietly. "Do you know why?"

Hana swallowed, hands twisting in her damp skirt.

"Yes, my lord... he knows the fields need children again. He... he told me to serve you however you wish."

She looked up then, dark eyes wide and honest and terrified and starving.

Alex reached out and brushed a sweat-soaked strand from her cheek.

"Then start by taking that dress off, Hana. Let me see the wife he couldn’t satisfy."

The cicadas screamed louder.

The summer heat pressed down.

And inside the old wooden house, another marriage was about to quietly, beautifully end.

The cicadas were deafening.

Hana stood on the sun-drenched veranda, white cotton dress plastered to her body with honest field sweat, nipples dark and hard against the soaked fabric, thighs trembling.

Alex stepped closer until the heat of his body pressed against hers.

"Take it off," he repeated, voice low, rough from the morning ride. "All of it. Right here where the whole village can see what happens to a good wife when a real man finally claims her."

Hana’s breath hitched. Her hands rose slowly, fingers shaking as they hooked under the thin straps.

Lilia leaned against the wooden pillar, silver hair glowing like moonlight, golden eyes glittering with amusement and hunger.

The straps slid down strong, sun-browned shoulders. The dress caught on heavy breasts for a moment, then gave up, peeling away like a second skin.

It pooled at Hana’s feet.

She stood naked in the brutal summer light.

Thirty-four years of farm work had sculpted her: thick, powerful thighs, wide hips made for birthing, a soft belly with faint silver lines from the children the curse had stolen, and breasts so full they swayed with every ragged breath, dark nipples already leaking tiny pearls of milk.

Alex groaned, cock straining against his light robe.

"Aaahhh... fuck, Hana... look at you. All this, and Jiro never once filled you properly?"

Hana shook her head, tears starting. "Never... not once in twenty years..."

He stepped in and cupped both heavy breasts, lifting their weight, thumbs circling leaking nipples until milk ran over his fingers.

"Aaahhh... these should’ve been sucked dry years ago..."

He leaned down and latched onto one dark nipple, sucking hard.

Hana cried out, knees buckling. "Oh gods... my lord... yes... drink me... Jiro never even tasted..."

Milk flooded his mouth, warm and sweet. He drank deep, switching sides, while his free hand slid down her soft belly to cup her soaked pussy.

Two fingers slipped inside easily.

"Aaahhh... listen to you... dripping like a ripe peach..."

Hana sobbed, hips rocking into his hand. "Please... please breed me... give Jiro’s wife what he never could..."

Across the rice paddy, two neighbour women (Mika and Yuna, both in their thirties, sun-browned and thick from field work) had stopped dead on the path, mouths open, watching.

Alex didn’t stop. He pushed Hana gently to her knees on the tatami edge of the veranda, robe falling open, cock springing free.

"Open," he ordered.

Hana obeyed instantly, lips stretching wide, taking him deep on the first try.

"Aaahhh... fuck yes... good farmer’s wife... swallow what your husband never fed you..."

She moaned around him, tears streaming, hands clutching his thighs as she bobbed desperately.

The neighbour women whispered, then slowly, shamelessly, lifted their own skirts and started touching themselves.

Lilia laughed softly. "Looks like the whole village is learning today."