The Harvest Moon and the Weight of Milk
The harvest moon hung low and swollen, bathing the village in amber light that slipped through the open doorway and painted every curve in molten gold. Inside, the air was thick—humid with late-summer heat, heavy with the sweet scent of ripe grain from the fields and the richer, headier perfume of three pregnant bodies in full bloom.
Their bellies had rounded beautifully now, firm and taut beneath soft skin, kicking gently with the lives we'd planted. Breasts strained against loosened blouses, heavy with milk that leaked in slow, steady beads whenever arousal tightened their nipples. The room smelled of it all: warm milk, slick arousal, the faint salt of sweat, and the lingering musk of last night's spend still drying on thighs.
I woke to hands already on me.
Lian's gentle fingers traced the length of my morning-hard cock through the thin sheet, her swollen belly pressing warm against my side. Mei lay curled against my other thigh, lips brushing lazy kisses along my hipbone, her breath hot and teasing. Shao knelt at the foot of the mat, strong hands easing the sheet down until my erection sprang free—thick, flushed dark, veins throbbing, the head already slick and shining with a steady drip of pre-cum.
"Couldn't wait," Shao murmured, voice low and rough. She leaned forward and dragged her tongue from my balls to the tip in one slow, wet stripe, gathering the salt of me with a hungry hum. The vibration shot straight through my shaft, making my hips jerk.
Lian shifted higher, straddling my chest carefully. Her breasts hung full and heavy above me, nipples dark and stiff, milk pearling at the tips before falling in warm droplets onto my skin. She cupped one breast and squeezed gently—a thin stream arced onto my lips. I opened my mouth eagerly, catching the sweet flood, sucking the nipple she offered deep into my mouth. Milk spilled over my tongue in rhythmic pulses as I suckled, her soft moan vibrating through her chest.
Mei wasn't idle.
She moved between my thighs, long fingers wrapping around the base of my cock where Shao's mouth worked the head. Together they licked and sucked—two tongues swirling, trading wet kisses around my shaft, lips meeting in slick slides over the sensitive crown while their free hands roamed each other. I could hear the wet sounds of fingers plunging into soaked cunts, the rhythmic squelch as they fucked themselves in time with their mouths on me.
The pleasure coiled tight and slow.
When I couldn't take any more, I pulled Lian down gently, guiding her to straddle my hips. She was drenched—pussy lips swollen and glistening, inner folds flushed deep pink and parted wide, slick dripping steadily down her thighs. She guided me to her entrance and sank down inch by thick inch, walls plush and velvet-hot, fluttering around me from the first touch. Her pregnant cunt gripped tighter than ever, rippling in waves that dragged a guttural groan from my throat.
She began to ride me slowly—deep, rolling grinds that pressed her swollen clit hard against my pelvis with every downward stroke. Milk leaked steadily from her breasts now, dripping onto my chest in warm rivulets that mixed with our sweat. Mei and Shao moved to either side, mouths latching onto Lian's free breasts—sucking hard, drawing milk in greedy pulls that made Lian cry out softly, hips stuttering, cunt clamping down around my cock in fierce pulses.
The room filled with wet symphony: the slick slap of Lian's ass against my thighs, the rhythmic squelch of her pussy swallowing my cock, milk dripping steadily onto skin, soft gasps and moans growing sharper.
Lian came first—body trembling, back arching as her cunt spasmed in long, rolling waves, milking me relentlessly. Hot release soaked us both, dripping down my balls as she ground down hard, taking me deeper.
I followed seconds later, hips bucking up into her as I spilled—thick, pulsing ropes of cum flooding her pregnant channel until it overflowed, creamy white leaking out around my base with every slow thrust.
They didn't give me time to soften.
Shao took Lian's place carefully, turning reverse so I had a perfect view of her rounded ass spreading as she sank down onto me. Her cunt was impossibly hot and tight, walls fluttering wildly as she took me to the hilt. She began a slow, deliberate bounce—ass rippling with every impact, wet slaps echoing louder as her arousal and my spend from Lian mixed and dripped down my shaft.
Mei straddled my chest again, offering her leaking breasts to my mouth while Lian recovered enough to kneel beside Shao, fingers circling Shao's swollen clit in tight, frantic strokes. Shao's rhythm faltered, thighs trembling, cunt clenching hard as milk dripped from her own breasts onto my stomach.
Shao shattered with a sharp cry—cunt spasming fiercely, milking another thick load from me deep inside her as she ground down, taking every pulse.
Mei was last, and gentlest.
We rolled her onto her side, belly cradled carefully. I slid into her from behind—slow, languid thrusts that let me savor every flutter of her walls, every ripple of pleasure. Lian and Shao curled close: Lian kissing Mei deeply, tongues sliding wetly, Shao's fingers teasing Mei's clit while her mouth suckled milk from Mei's breast in steady pulls.
Mei came with a soft, shuddering cry—walls fluttering wildly around me, release soaking my cock and thighs in hot pulses. I buried myself deep and let go one final time, pumping thick ropes of cum into her until we were both trembling.
Afterward, we lay in a sweat-and-milk-slick tangle—bellies pressed warm together, breasts leaking softly onto shared skin, cocks softening slowly inside the cradle of well-fucked cunts still leaking creamy spend.
Hands drifted lazily: over taut, kicking bellies; over breasts heavy and tender; over thighs trembling with aftershocks.
Outside, the harvest moon watched over fields ready for reaping.
Inside, three women curled around their husband, bodies full and sated, the slow drip of milk and cum marking the sheets beneath us.
And in the quiet, no system notification came—none was needed.
We were already complete
The land resisted us.
That was the first truth I learned that morning.
The soil behind the house looked workable, but beneath the thin surface layer lay stubborn hardness—packed earth neglected for years, dry and unyielding, clinging to the hoe like it resented being disturbed. Each strike sent dull vibrations up my arms, jarring my shoulders, the impact reverberating through muscle and bone like the land itself was warning us not to expect mercy. Sweat beaded on my skin almost immediately, trickling down my back, soaking the waist of my linen pants until the fabric clung damply to my cock and balls, outlining every ridge as it thickened slowly from the rhythmic exertion.
Still, we worked.
Lian moved beside me in steady rhythm, her breathing calm, her posture practiced—hips rolling subtly with each swing, skirt stretching tight across the plush swell of her ass. Every so often, she would pause to correct a furrow or brush loose soil back into place, bending forward so her heavy breasts swayed beneath her loose blouse, nipples dark and stiff against the thin linen, brushing the fabric with each motion until faint damp spots bloomed where milk had begun to leak again.
"Don't fight it," she said quietly, voice low and intimate over the scrape of metal on earth. "Listen to it."
I didn't understand how land could be listened to—but she did.
And slowly, it yielded, softening under her hands like her body softened under mine at night—pliant, wet, welcoming.
The Village Pushes Back Harder
By midday, the rumors reached us openly.
A group of men stood near the well, not even bothering to lower their voices, their eyes lingering too long on Lian's sweat-damp curves as she bent to fill the water jar—skirt riding high enough to reveal the soft backs of her thighs, the faint sheen of arousal that never fully left her these days glistening where her swollen pussy lips pressed against damp linen.
"He can't even pay his own taxes."
"Three wives—who does he think he is?"
"Bet he's hiding grain… or spreading it too thin elsewhere."
Lian stiffened, thighs pressing together with a subtle, wet sound that only I could hear, her nipples tightening visibly as anger and vulnerability mingled.
I felt anger rising, sharp and hot—but before I could react, another voice cut through.
"The tax collectors are coming early this month."
That silenced everyone.
The Collectors
They arrived in the afternoon.
Two men in dull armor, scrolls in hand, eyes cold with routine cruelty, gazes flicking dismissively over Lian's rounded belly and milk-heavy breasts, then narrowing on the newly worked field.
"Land usage increased," one said flatly. "Household size expanded."
He scratched something onto the scroll, the sound unnaturally loud in the still air.
"Tax adjustment."
My stomach dropped.
"We barely have enough to eat," I said, voice rough. "There must be—"
"No exemptions," the other interrupted, eyes lingering on the faint wet patches at Lian's chest where milk had seeped through. "Payment due in ten days."
They left dust and dread behind them, the scent of their horses and sweat lingering like a threat.
I stood there, fists clenched, cock half-hard despite the fear—traitorous, throbbing at the memory of how Lian's pregnant body trembled and clenched around me when worry turned to need.
Lian placed a hand on my arm, fingers warm and slightly trembling.
"We'll manage," she said softly, pressing close enough that her swollen belly brushed my hip, her breast grazing my side, nipple dragging stiffly across my shirt.
I wanted to believe her.
Whispers Turn Sharp
That evening, the village whispers grew teeth.
Someone spat near our gate, the sound wet and deliberate.
A woman muttered, "Taking what he doesn't deserve," her gaze raking over Lian's form with bitter envy—the way her skirt clung to wide hips, the subtle sway of milk-heavy breasts as she walked.
Jealousy wasn't loud—but it was constant.
And dangerous.
As we returned inside, I noticed someone watching from across the path—a woman standing alone, arms folded beneath high, firm breasts, expression unreadable. Her skirt hugged strong thighs, and even from a distance I could see the subtle shift of her hips, the way her chest rose and fell a little too quickly, nipples faintly visible against fabric.
She turned away before I could get a good look.
Quiet Night, Honest Words
That night, the lamp burned low, casting golden light over sweat-cooled skin and the faint sheen of dried milk on Lian's breasts where her blouse had slipped open.
The others slept, breaths slow and even—Mei curled on her side, one hand resting on the curve of her belly, thighs parted just enough that the scent of her lingering arousal drifted across the room; Shao on her back, skirt rucked high, exposing the dark curls and swollen lips still glistening faintly from earlier touches.
Lian sat beside me, mending a tear in cloth with careful fingers, her bare thigh pressed warm against mine, the heat between her legs radiating through thin fabric.
"You're thinking too loudly," she said without looking up, voice soft and husky.
I huffed a weak laugh. "Is it that obvious?"
She nodded. "Men who carry worries think they're hiding them. They never are."
I hesitated, then spoke.
"I don't know if I can protect all of you."
Her hands stilled.
Then she set the cloth aside and faced me, blouse gaping to reveal one dark, leaking nipple, milk pearling slowly at the tip.
"You already are," she said gently. "Protection isn't strength alone. It's choosing to stay."
Her gaze softened, eyes dropping briefly to my lap where my cock had begun to thicken again, pressing visibly against my pants.
"I was left unchosen because I had a past," she continued. "But you… you didn't see baggage. You saw people."
Her fingers brushed mine—brief, accidental, warm—then lingered, tracing slow circles that sent heat straight to my groin.
Neither of us pulled away, the air thickening with the scent of her arousal, sharp and sweet beneath the lamp's smoke.
The system pulsed faintly.
[Bond Deepened: Emotional Intimacy – Lian]
Household Harmony +3
Stress Resistance Increased
For once, I didn't look at the numbers.
I looked at her—full lips parted slightly, chest rising faster, the slow trickle of milk down the curve of her breast begging to be tasted.
The Second Woman Steps Forward
The next morning, I found her waiting by the water jar.
The woman I'd seen watching us.
She stood straight, her expression calm but closed off—like a lake with no visible bottom. Her clothes were simple, skirt clinging to strong hips and thighs, blouse stretched tight across full breasts, nipples faintly outlined as the morning air cooled them to stiff peaks.
"You're the husband," she said flatly, voice low, eyes flicking briefly to the bulge already stirring in my pants from the sight of her.
"Yes."
She studied me for a long moment, gaze lingering on my mouth, then lower—unhurried, assessing.
"I'm Meilin," she said. "I'll be working the outer field today."
It wasn't a request.
It was a statement.
Lian watched from the doorway, one hand resting on her rounded belly, the other unconsciously brushing over a leaking nipple through her blouse, thighs shifting subtly as if remembering last night's slow, deep claiming.
Meilin met her gaze—not hostile, but distant, her own chest rising a little faster, the faint scent of her arousal cutting through the morning air like a promise yet unclaimed.
Whatever her past was, she carried it alone.
And I realized then—
Winning the land would be hard.
Winning the village would be harder.
But winning her trust?
Watching the way her thighs pressed together, the subtle flush creeping up her throat, the way her nipples strained harder against fabric as our eyes locked—
That might be the most difficult, delicious task yet.