The cottage sat at the end of a long, lonely path. It was growing dark as I approached. Cheery beams of light shone from it's windows. In answer to my knock, the door was thrown open and I was welcomed into a comfortable, well lit room full of warmth and cheer by the most beautiful woman I had ever hoped to meet. She was a statuesque blonde, dressed in a long, flowing white gown of some silken material.
The master of the house was a friendly giant of a man, who, besides the beautiful wife, had three lovely daughters. "We are just sitting down to dinner, won't you join us?" he asked.
I had never tasted such food! The flavors, the texture, the spices--they combined to create taste experiences such as I had never known. Each dish seemed to outdo the other. I looked around, but saw no servants, neither did the wife appear to have spent much time in the kitchen.
For some reason, it did not seem appropriate to ask about the food or its preparation. I simply ate, and ate, and ate. My stomach was bursting when the dessert was brought. Ordinarily, I would have passed, but the aroma and appearance of the several desserts made it impossible.
Somehow, I managed to try two or three different ones and settled back with a cup of rich coffee to relax and let my stomach adjust to the strain.
During the meal, I had been so busy eating that I had not paid much attention to my hosts, except to note that I was eating with a very lucky man. His wife was one of the most beautiful and desirable women I have ever seen.
I leaned back to relax and recover from the incredible meal and began my survey of his three beautiful daughters. It was difficult to determine their ages, but from the degree of maturity of their bodies, I would guess them all in their late teens. On my left sat a dazzling blonde.
Her body was at that stage where it seemed to be bursting with youth. Her high, proud, tits pushed against her blouse, threatening to break through at any moment. The taut nipples were plainly visible through the thin cloth and it was also plain that she needed, and wore, no support underneath. Her long, golden hair hung to her waist and sometimes made it difficult to see all that I wanted to.
The daughter on my right was a chestnut-haired brunette. She had that particular blush that seems to color young girls who are in the process of becoming women. While her tits did not lack in shape, they were not yet quite as large as her sister's. What she gave up in size, however, she more than made up for in firmness. When she giggled, which was often, her nipples barely moved under the thin cloth of her blouse.
The last daughter was a redhead. For some reason, I have never found most redheads to be that sexy. This one was so sexy, it made me weak in the knees to imagine the delights she might be capable of giving.
They were all bursting with youth, all with perfect teeth and beautiful smiles which they directed quite often in my direction.
During the meal, I had not paid any attention to the conversation between themselves. Now that I thought about it, I could not remember a word they had said, nor could I have told if they had spoken English or some other language.
When I seemed to be coming out of my food lust haze, the father leaned toward me and asked, "Do you care for my wife?"
In my shock, I'm not sure whether I actually said anything. I have encountered a number of different cultures, but never had the pleasure of one before where the host asked such a question. It was obvious that this situation demanded some sort of response, but I was at a loss to give one.
