The workers

You decide that your tastes lie with the hard-working family that owns and operates the Wayward Lass. As they work you quietly sip your ale 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 cleavage in your simple peasant dress. You imagine taking him out behind the inn where they empty the slop buckets and bending you over the well pump. He could lift your skirt and have at your plump slit or perhaps--

"Nah," interrupts Furgus, speaking straight into your mind. "You don't want that fatso. And you'd better not try jamming me up his rear!"

His wife, Cylla, the husky blonde barmaid with huge breasts and swaying hips, seems harried by the gamblers. They grab at her ass and nearly cause her to spill their tray of drinks. She laughs off their pawing and shoots a glance in your direction. Yes, you'd like to get on your knees before her and have a look at that thatch of hair between her legs. Give her a taste with--

"Sure," says Furgus, "you could dine on her honey while I pound your quim. I've always been fond of a little lesbian fun. You can share me with her. She looks like she'd have a healthy appetite for my spew."

"You're vile," you laugh.

"Excuse me?" asks Handen, but you wave him off.

Then there is the couple's gorgeous daughter. Beautiful, young Yona has rosey cheeks and turns crimson each lusty shout from the table of gamblers. She has big, green eyes and lips that you'd love to press to yours. 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--

"Yes!" Furgus says. "Now there's the one. Loosen her little rosebud with that lusty tongue of yours and let her try me on for size. I think she'll find me more than adequate to fill her fine little peasant rump."

You down the last of your ale and feel it warm your body. You bite your lip think about who you'd like to introduce to Furgus.