Tae arrived at the village just after sunrise, the air thick with the scent of turned earth and morning dew. At twenty-one, he still looked delicate—soft skin, wide eyes, and a chest that strained against the thin cotton shirt he wore. Underneath, his heavy breasts pressed against the fabric, nipples already stiff from the cool breeze. Between his legs, his pussy throbbed with anticipation. He had come here to learn about farming, but the real reason pulsed hotter: he wanted old men. He wanted their wrinkled hands on his body, their thick, veiny cocks stretching him open. He wanted to be used like a toy in the dirt.
The path to the fields wound between low stone walls. Tae followed it until he reached the open stretch where three elderly farmers worked. Their backs were bent over rows of young plants. One wore a faded straw hat, another had a long white beard, and the third moved with a slight limp. All three looked up when Tae approached.
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