The workers

You decide that your tastes lie with the hard-working family that owns and operates the Wayward Lass. As they each steal glances at your scandalous costume you quietly sip your warm wine and dream up thigh-quaking scenarios of unchained hedonism.

The broad-shouldered, potbellied, and bearded innskeep is called Handen. He is always wiping away at a tin cup with a dishrag, but you catch him again and again looking at your breasts outlined in the sheer fabric of the bra. You imagine taking him out behind the inn where they empty the slop buckets and getting down on your knees to nestle his cock between your plump tits. Wanking him or sucking him, perhaps offering up your ass to him.

His wife, Cylla, the husky barmaid with huge breasts and swaying hips, seems torn between jealousy and her own arousal. It is clear no man or woman can resist the raw sensuality you seem to radiate. You'd like to see this stout blonde unleash her pent up lust on you, burying her face between your thighs and licking your little clit until you beg her to stop. You'd surely return the favor.

Then there is the couple's gorgeous daughter. Beautiful, young Yona seems ashamed for her lust. She averts her eyes and turns crimson each time she catches an eyeful of her your bountiful breasts or your thong-cradled ass. What you wouldn't give to tear that shy little wench's apron off and lay her out on the floor of the kitchen, or perhaps bent over the chopping block, her breasts flattened against the wood and your face pressed against her firm little butt.

You down the last of your mulled wine and feel the potent brew begin to warm your body. You toy with your fat curls and bite your lip thinking about who you'd like to pursue.