I see her standing there in the garden, the garden that’s forbidden to common men like me.
Such beautiful flowers everywhere, but none are so beautiful as her. And, the vegetables are ripe, but not nearly as ripe as her breasts and, I expect, the tight, smooth cunt that lies underneath her dress.
She walks through the garden, surrounded by high stone walls, every day at the same time.
“Stop drooling, you pathetic idiot,” my wife snaps at me.
My wife hates me, and I hate her. We both wished one another would die. Thank God we have no children.
I hate this little house and this little farm of ours. I feel as though I should be doing better in life than I am. The mediocrity of my condition always sends me into a panicked rage, until I see her standing there with that perfect smile on her face, with her hair waving like a long, golden sheet against the current of the wind.
Today, I take note of each slender curve of her body and feel a heat surge through my rock hard cock. My penis is so erect that it’s nearly cutting through my trousers.
“A young woman like that could have a prince or even a king! What chance do you think an old fool like you has with her?” My wife asks me, her tone as cutting as the thorns that wrap around our house.
“Nothing,” I say, groaning.
My wife nods satisfied that she’s reminded me of my low place in the world. Then, she leaves to the bedroom.
I look out through the window at the beautiful young woman with golden hair and slender thighs one last time.
“I shall die unless I can have her…” I growl to myself.