Chapter 1 — My Wife's Story of Last Winter

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination. All characters are adults aged 18 or over.

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I hadn't been digesting food properly for days, and my body felt overwhelmingly tired.

Was it from not exercising? From traveling so long by train and car? My limbs felt heavy.

The village was so small there wasn't even a pharmacy. I asked the middle-aged woman who ran the little restaurant where I'd been eating for the past few days if she could spare some medicine.

She took one look at me and said I looked pale, then insisted I'd feel better right away if I got an acupuncture treatment. She was almost frantic about it.

I was nervous about needles, but for some reason, I thought it might work faster than taking pills.

She said there was an excellent acupuncturist in the village and called him immediately.

Maybe because it was such a small place, the man arrived quickly.

The acupuncturist who showed up after her call was an elderly man with white hair and an unshaven face—but he looked nothing like an old man. He seemed more like a strikingly handsome middle-aged man.

Rather than calling him "Grandpa," I wanted to call him "Mister."

His bold, dignified appearance didn't fit someone living in such a remote mountain village. He looked like a man who, had he been born in another era, might have been called a general.

Even though he was over sixty, his physique was powerfully built—tall, broad-shouldered, and imposing.

I went into a small back room beside the main bedroom, where the landlady had already laid out a blanket.

I left the door open to the main room, feeling awkward being alone with him in such a cramped space.

He told me to lie down on the blanket, keeping only a t-shirt on.

As soon as he saw me, he started speaking informally, without honorifics—and his voice was deep and strong.

“Relax completely,” he said. “Stretch your legs out straight and lie flat on your back.”

He asked where I felt discomfort and began checking my pulse.

I told him I'd been exhausted lately, with no strength, and hadn't been digesting food properly for days.

He asked if I was urinating and defecating normally.

I felt embarrassed, but admitted I wasn't sure about urination, and honestly, my bowel movements weren't satisfying.

He was silent for a while, still holding my wrist. Then he pulled my hand closer and gripped it with both of his, kneading it gently.

“Your hands are so cold.”

You have cold energy in your body, he said. That's why you can't digest food and feel so tired. But he'd fix it quickly—just close my eyes and relax.

I closed my eyes, letting go.

For a few moments, I lay still, releasing all tension. I felt the warm floor beneath my back, and the fatigue from days of travel began to melt away like snow, leaving me deeply relaxed.

He started pressing the muscles between my eyebrows with his fingers.

He wasn't using needles—just acupressure—on my cheeks, head, and jaw.

“You're so fair and pretty,” he murmured. “So delicate.”

He kept saying things like that as his fingers gently pressed over my face.

Then he said he'd like to press on my stomach, but I needed to relax even more.

He said my stomach would get cold if exposed, so he took a thin blanket nearby and covered just my abdomen.

I opened my eyes slightly and glanced into the main room. The TV was on, and the restaurant owner and her husband kept coming in and out.

His large hand slipped under my lifted t-shirt and began slowly stroking my stomach, up and down.

He circled gently around my navel.

His fingers lightly pinched the skin around my belly button.

Then he pressed deeply into my lower abdomen, moving slowly from side to side.

“You're very weak in energy,” he said. “We need to warm your lower abdomen. Only then will your body clear and your energy flow properly.”

With his now warm, soft hands, he continued massaging my lower belly.

But then, a strange sensation crept over me—like he was slowly seducing my body with his touch.

His big hand gradually moved lower, and then lightly brushed the edge of my panties.

I opened my eyes and looked at his face.

He smiled, revealing white teeth. “Relax your body,” he said. “Trust me. Keep your eyes closed.”

I closed them again.

His hand traced the waistband of my small panties several times, then finally began gently stroking the area around my genitals.

I felt my breath catch in my throat.

Ah—I couldn't stop a hot, shaky breath from escaping.

He touched the soft, smooth mound of my shaved vulva and sighed again in admiration.

“Do you always shave here like this?”

My voice wouldn't come. My mouth was dry—completely unable to speak.

With my eyes still closed, I just nodded slightly.

“You're truly a precious gem,” he whispered, and with his palm, he gently lifted my pubic bone toward my navel.

I felt my legs instinctively tense.

With my eyes shut, I focused only on his fingers. Ah—so good.

I wanted to moan, but I stayed silent, afraid the couple in the next room would hear.

Without realizing it, I had stretched my legs open wider, silently inviting his hand deeper.

I reached down and took his wrist, gently guiding it lower.

My mind begged—please, let your thick, long fingers play freely with my wet petals.

As if he'd been waiting, he began teasing my slippery, burning inner walls.

He explored me—probing, wriggling—like he was claiming every hidden part of me. And in that moment, he looked utterly beautiful.

I suddenly wanted to see his penis.

I reached for his pants zipper.

His cock was already hard—huge, thick, and proud, just like the rest of his powerful body.

I hadn't seen such a large, handsome man in a long time.

My mind spun with confusion. If we were in a motel, I'd take it all into my mouth and suck every inch with my hot tongue…

He pulled down my pants, then spread the blanket wide to cover my belly and legs. With a boyish smile, he leaned close and whispered into my ear.

“Can you feel your body warming up?”

I opened my eyes and nodded again, unable to speak.

The couple in the next room no longer mattered.

He slipped under the blanket and buried his face between my legs, carefully nibbling and sucking my wet petals.

I spread my legs wide, blissfully accepting his hot, writhing tongue.

“Ah… so dizzying…”

He used his fingers and tongue together, while his other hand pressed firmly on my lower abdomen, sucking me with strong, rhythmic pulls.

I grabbed his head, guiding his tongue deeper, helping him devour me completely.

“Yes… yes…!”

I don't know how many times I came.

My wetness had soaked through, dampening the blanket and my buttocks, but every second was pure ecstasy.