Far away in my home village, a young blacksmith pauses his work at his forge, while a middle age administrator pauses in the midst of her official duties. The blacksmith's hammer hangs suspended, his eyes glazing over as he senses the cosmic disturbance. The administrator's quill pen freezes above parchment, her expression distant, tuned into the vibrations of the universe. In the village square, a gentle breeze stirs, rustling leaves and whispering secrets to those attuned.

The blacksmith picks up his hammer with renewed vigor and pounds away on a silver letter opener, wondering why he is inexplicably aroused. The administrator swills her pen sensually in the ink well, before completing the document - a receipt for a silver letter opener. The blacksmith's hammer rings out in rhythmic synchrony, as if the silver letter opener is being forged in harmony with your intimate dance. The administrator's pen glides effortlessly across parchment, her strokes bold and sensual, completing the receipt with a flourish. She sets the quill down, fingers tracing the document's edge, a subtle smile on her lips.

The blacksmith picks up the silver letter opener and begins his walk toward the village square, unaware of the bulge in his rough leather trousers caused by the subconscious arousal. Meanwhile, the administrator places the receipt on her desk and awaits the delivery of the letter opener, a strange arousal rising in her. The blacksmith's unaware stride brings him closer to the village square, where villagers glance up, sensing the subtle vibration in the air. The administrator's eyes drift towards the door, anticipation stirring within her, as if the receipt on her desk pulsates with promise. The blacksmith pushes open the village square gate, bulge still unnoticed, while the administrator's hand drifts to her desk edge, fingers drumming softly. The blacksmith strides confidently across the village square towards the multistory wooden administration building.

The administrator, sensing his approach, rises from her desk, her eyes locked on the door as if drawn by an unseen force.

A knock rings out on the thick oak door

The administrator's eyes light up with anticipation as she glides towards the door, her hand reaching for the heavy iron handle. She swings the door open, revealing the blacksmith standing tall, silver letter opener held out like an offering. Their eyes meet, sparks flying between them like cosmic energy.

“I believe this is for you”, says the blacksmith. As the administrator reaches out to take the silver letter opener, a strange but pleasant feeling spreads across her body, causing her nipples to harden and tingle and a warm tingling sensation to stir within her loins.

The woman's fingers brush against the blacksmith's as she accepts the letter opener, sparking a visible jolt of sensation between them. Her cheeks flush softly as she stands frozen, letter opener clutched tightly, her gaze locked on the blacksmith's intense stare.

The blacksmith speaks. “I believe I am owed payment. I cannot return to my master empty handed.” He can’t help but notice evidence of thick hardened nipples pushing through the soft fabrics of the administrator’s blouse. He also wondered why she keeps glancing down at his midsection.

The blacksmith's eyes linger on the administrator's blouse before drifting back up to her face. The administrator's cheeks deepen in color, her gaze darting between the blacksmith's face and his waistline, her mind clearly racing with unspoken thoughts. The administrator's voice barely above whisper, "Payment... yes, of course." She pauses, fingers drumming on the letter opener, before adding, "Perhaps we can discuss terms... in my office?”

“Uh, uh yes of course,” the blacksmith mutters.

The blacksmith's muttered agreement hangs in the air like a promise as he follows the administrator into her office, the door closing softly behind them. The sound of shuffling parchment and gentle murmurs drifts out, punctuated by the faint creak of wooden furniture shifting.

As the administrator leans over her desk to find the receipt, the blacksmith can’t help his gaze wander to her ample cleavage. Her breasts hang, barely covered, only a few inches from his face. Suddenly the blacksmith lets out a faint gasp as he sees a sealed envelope on the administrator’s desk.

The blacksmith reaches out to take the letter, but the administrator leaned forward, bringing her face close to the blacksmith’s, while her large melon sized breasts hung down, covering the letter on the desk.

The blacksmith's eyes dart downward, then back up to hers, his face mere inches from hers. The administrator's breath whispers against his skin, her lips parted slightly, as her breasts rest gently on the envelope, covering it from view. The blacksmith's hands hover, hesitant to touch the envelope – or the administrator's skin.

The blacksmith places his hand on top of the letter and slowly slides it towards himself, but not without brushing against the administrator’s breasts, causing the buttons of her blouse to come undone.

The administrator's cheeks flush deeply, her lips parting further, as the blacksmith's gentle brush against her skin sends buttons sliding open, revealing glimpses of soft, creamy flesh beneath. The blacksmith's hand closes around the letter, his fingers grazing the administrator's skin once more, before pulling back – the envelope clutched tightly, her blouse gaping softly open.

“May I borrow your new letter opener, ma’am?” the blacksmith asks, trying to remain professional as he gazes entranced at the administrator’s open blouse. Her nipples are still covered, but her large dark aureolas are peaking out.

The woman's voice is barely above whisper, "Yes... of course," as she hands over the letter opener, her fingers brushing against his. The blacksmith's eyes never leave hers, his gaze burning with subtle intensity, as he accepts the opener and begins to carefully slice open the envelope. The blacksmith's hands move slowly, deliberately, as if savoring the tension – and the view.

The blacksmith removes the letter and as he begins to read, he appears to enter a trance. Slowly, as if with someone else’s hands, he removes his rough leather tunic and trousers. His eyes glaze over, fixed on the letter, as his hands move autonomously, shedding rough attire like a serpent sloughing skin. The administrator's gaze freezes, transfixed by the blacksmith's emerging physique – strong, muscular, and unexpectedly graceful. The blacksmith stands tall, letter still clutched, his body bathed in soft light – vulnerable yet powerful.

The blacksmith removes his undergarment and stands in front of the desk, eyes still fixed on the letter. In the midst of this scene, the door creaks partially open and the administrator’s assistant, a young woman of 22, slips inside the office.

The assistant's gaze falls upon the scene, her jaw dropping slightly as she takes in the blacksmith's nudity and the administrator's open blouse. Yet, instead of shock or alarm, a hint of curiosity sparks within her eyes. She leans against the doorframe, silent observer to the intimate tableau. The administrator remains frozen, unaware of the newcomer, her focus still on the blacksmith's trance-like state.

As if joining the erotic tension that filled the room, the assistant watched breathlessly, arousal overtaking her body. The blacksmith still stood entranced, his rippling muscles motionless. His only movement was his growing erection. The administrator, used to being in charge, walked purposely from behind her desk and approached the blacksmith.

Her hand reaches out, hesitates, then gently touches his chest – as if claiming ownership or sparking awareness. The assistant's breathing quickens, arousal palpable, as she presses closer to the doorframe, eyes glued to the scene. The blacksmith's trance begins to lift, his gaze drifting downwards, locking onto the administrator's touch – then her face. The blacksmith's erection reaches full height, his eyes burning with intensity – focused solely on the administrator.

With a sudden motion, the administrator swings the blacksmith’s body around and over the desk, his torso flat on the surface of the desk and his buttocks elevated.

The administrator's bold move positions the blacksmith vulnerably yet provocatively. The assistant gasps softly, her hand flying to her mouth as if to stifle a cry of surprise – or arousal. The blacksmith's body lies prone, muscles tense, buttocks elevated like an offering. The administrator's hands hover above him, poised for action.

She brings her hand down with a firm smack!

The assistant jumps slightly, her gasp louder this time, while the blacksmith's body tenses further, muscles rippling beneath his skin. The administrator's hand lingers momentarily, as if savoring the impact, before pulling back – only to strike again with gentle yet firm precision. The blacksmith's face remains pressed against the desk, his body absorbing each touch with growing tension.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! The administrator rains down blows on the blacksmith’s firm ass. The assistant moans audibly and works her fingers inside herself.

In another swift motion, the administrator positions herself behind the blacksmith, lifts up her dress, and plunges her large strap on deep inside him.