In the dimly lit corner of the local tavern, a woman with raven black hair and hips as wide as the moon sat alone, nursing a mug of ale. Her name was Isabella, a woman of 25 summers, known for her enchanting beauty and insatiable desires. Her long hair cascaded down her back in waves, caressing the curves of her ample derriere. Her hips were so wide, they seemed to demand attention, inviting any red-blooded man to take a taste.
Across the room, a man named William, a muscular blacksmith of 30 years, couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He had heard tales of Isabella’s beauty and her sexual appetite, but never had the courage to approach her. But tonight, something stirred within him. He felt an uncontrollable urge to claim her as his own.
With a deep breath, he approached her, his heart pounding in his chest. “May I join you, my lady?” he asked, his voice trembling.
Isabella looked up, her dark eyes meeting his. She smiled, a wicked glint in her gaze. “I was wondering when you would muster up the courage to speak to me,” she purred.
William took a seat next to her, his knee brushing against her leg. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through him. He swallowed hard, trying to steady his nerves. “I’ve heard many things about you, Isabella. They say you are a woman of insatiable desires.”
Isabella leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear. “And they speak the truth,” she whispered. “But only with the right man.”
