Karolyn

You choose Karolyn.

You love Lillian, but not in the way a man loves a woman. She has always been more like a sister to you, steady, familiar, a part of your life as constant as the morning sun. You cherish her deeply, but you have never seen her in a romantic or sexual light.

Lillian is disappointed, perhaps, but she understands. Her smile is bittersweet when you speak, but she says nothing to make you feel guilty. You will always be close, as friends, as siblings in all but blood, just not as lovers.

Karolyn is different.

The woodcutter’s beautiful widow.

She is feminine in a way that draws your gaze without effort: soft curves, a mother’s body, full breasts and generous childbearing hips. She carries herself with quiet grace and warmth, and you are drawn to her not just out of sympathy or admiration, but desire. Romantic and sexual alike.

And she is interested in you as well.

To be honest, she is not much older than you. Twenty-five to your eighteen. Married young, widowed young, left to raise her infant daughter alone. But she is not so old that she cannot begin again. Not so worn down by grief that hope has fled.

Karolyn is young enough to begin again. Old enough to know what she wants.

“Irena needs a father, Cedric,” she tells you one quiet evening, her voice low but certain. “And I need a husband.”

You don’t hesitate.

“I’d be honored to take both roles,” you reply. “Not just a stepfather. A real father. And your husband, if you’ll have me.”

I would,” Karolyn says, her voice soft with emotion, as she agrees to take you as her second husband. “I would.”

Your wedding is small but full of warmth. Friends, family, and villagers gather to witness your vows. Some raise eyebrows at your choice, a young man marrying a widow with a child, but most are simply happy for you.

Karolyn is an attractive woman, her beauty mature and full. She has the soft curves of motherhood: full breasts and childbearing hips. A mother’s body. Her brown hair is neatly braided, a sign of a woman who knows how to care for herself. She is an excellent cook and skilled at managing a household.

You couldn’t ask for a better bride to build a life with.

You kiss her before the wedding guests, your first kiss as husband and wife. Her second.

You remember attending her first wedding as a guest, watching her kiss Jared with passion, his hands resting comfortably on her hips. You never imagined you would one day take his place. But instead of jealousy, you feel only pity for him. He lies in his grave. His wife is in your arms, soon to be in your bed. His daughter now calls you father.

That night, when you make love for the first time, Karolyn guides you with the confidence of a woman who knows what she’s doing. Having been married before, she is sexually experienced, far more than a virgin bride would have been. Her hands know where to touch. Her voice tells you what she likes.

Unlike her, you are inexperienced. But you are eager to learn.

She shows you how to touch her, where to move, how to listen. You please her, and she teaches you to please her better. With her guidance, you massage her bare breasts with both hands, then stimulate her dark nipples with your tongue, before rubbing her clit with your fingers.

You feel grateful to have someone as experienced as her as your first lover.

Her body welcomes you when you enter her, your manhood penetrating and completely filling her hole, the emptiness Jared left behind. Her warm cunt wraps itself snugly around your manhood, accepting you as her husband in the deepest sense.

"Yes, Cedric, right there! Oh yes!" She moans beneath you, urging you on, calling your name as you move together. Her hips moving in tandem with your thrusts. You want to be everything she needs, more than Jared ever was. You want to make her body to forget her first husband, and know that she belongs to you now.

Months pass.

Your farm grows. The fields stretch wide and rich with life. Karolyn’s belly swells with your child. The seed you plant in the soil grows tall and golden; the seed you plant in her womb grows strong and full.

You tend to her, protect her, and cherish her.

At your side, Irena laughs and plays, her tiny fingers clutching your hand. You take the role of her father, not in name alone, but in every deed. You lift her into the air and she laughs. You teach her to walk between furrows, to count chickens, to sweep with a broom too large for her hands.

She is not of your blood, but she is your daughter.

You protect her. Provide for her. Raise her as your own.

You accept the role of her father with pride.

Karolyn soon gives birth, her second child, your first. A healthy boy, whom you name Beron, after your father. Irena’s younger half-brother. He has your dark hair and Karolyn’s warm eyes. Irena dotes on her new brother, not as a rival, but as family.

More years pass.

You have three more children with Karolyn. A second son, Karrick, bold and wild, always up a tree or getting into scrapes. Then Celyn, your daughter, bright-eyed and gentle, who helps her mother in the kitchen. And finally, another son, whom you name Jared, not out of guilt, but out of respect. When you suggest the name, Karolyn weeps. She agrees without hesitation.

Time moves on.

You grow older. Wiser. The village prospers. Your children grow strong. Irena becomes a young woman. Beron begins to learn the plow. Karrick remains wild, always climbing trees. Celyn becomes her mother’s right hand in the kitchen, and little Jared follows you everywhere, wooden sword in hand.

Sometimes, you catch yourself staring at the old chest in the corner. The iron sword still rests inside, the blade you used to slay the beast, to avenge Karolyn’s first husband, and to claim your place in the world.

And Karolyn is yours now, completely, in body and soul. She is everything you hoped for: a strong wife, a wise woman, an excellent cook and keeper of the home. A passionate lover when the doors are closed and the candles are low, eager to satisfy her husband.

A loving mother to your five children.

A man couldn’t ask for a better wife. Or a better life.

Ending 4: Married to the Woodcutter's Widow