Whispers of Lust in the Countryside
Chapter 180 - 179 : Rain Drops

Chapter 180: Chapter 179 : Rain Drops

The sounds downstairs continued — wet, heavy thrusts, loud moans, the rhythmic plap-plap-plap of skin on skin. Misaki stood frozen at the slightly open door, heart hammering so hard she could feel it in her throat. Every filthy word she heard was like a knife twisting in her chest.

Hina’s mother’s confession hit her like a bolt of lightning.

Misaki’s eyes widened. Her mind spun. She had always believed Yuta’s mother died years ago. But now... now she heard that he still talked to her. That he still saw her. That he was broken in ways no one had ever guessed.

Yuta’s father’s voice came next, low and pained.

Misaki’s face went pale. She turned slowly to Yuta, who was still standing at the door, body rigid, eyes wide and glassy.

He wasn’t breathing normally.

He was trembling. Violent, full-body tremors. His lips moved, but no sound came out at first. Then, in a fast, broken whisper that echoed in the dark hallway, he repeated the same words over and over like a prayer or a curse:

"My mother didn’t die... my mother didn’t die... She is with me... She is with me..."

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. His shoulders shook. Tears were streaming down his face, but he wasn’t crying out — he was just repeating it, voice cracking, eyes staring into nothing.

"My mother didn’t die... She is with me... She is with me..."

Misaki’s heart shattered. She knew nothing about this. Nothing. The quiet, well-mannered Yuta she had secretly loved for years had been carrying this secret alone — seeing his dead mother every night, believing she was still there, hallucinating her, talking to her. The trauma was deeper, darker, more heartbreaking than anything she had imagined.

She didn’t think. She just acted.

Misaki stepped forward, grabbed Yuta’s trembling arm with both hands, and pulled him away from the door. Her voice was soft, urgent, full of love and pain.

"Yuta... come with me... upstairs... now..."

She helped him walk — one arm around his waist, the other guiding his legs. He didn’t resist. He just walked, body shaking, still repeating the same broken words under his breath:

"My mother didn’t die... She is with me... She is with me..."

They reached his room. Misaki gently pushed him onto the bed and laid him down. She climbed in beside him, turned him on his side, and slowly started patting his head — soft, rhythmic strokes through his hair, the same way she had seen mothers comfort children in movies. Her fingers moved gently, lovingly, over his hair, his forehead, his cheek.

"Shhh... I’m here... I’m here with you... sleep now..." she whispered, voice trembling but steady. "You’re not alone... I’m here..."

Yuta’s trembling slowly eased. His eyes stayed half-open, glassy, but his body relaxed under her touch. The constant repetition slowed to a whisper.

"My mother... didn’t die... She is with me..." he murmured one last time, then his breathing grew deeper, slower.

Misaki waited until his eyes closed completely, his face calm for the first time in days. Only then did she move closer. She pulled him into her arms, wrapped her legs around his waist, and hugged him tight against her chest. Her hands stroked his back, his hair, his arms — soft, protective, warm.

She fell asleep holding him, tears still wet on her cheeks, while his hand clutched her tank top like he would never let go.

The room was quiet except for the soft sound of two broken hearts beating together.

Evening light finally crept into the room around 6 PM, turning the pale clouds outside into a soft, bruised purple. The sky looked like rain was about to fall at any moment. Yuta and Misaki were still wrapped tightly in each other’s arms on the small bed, her head on his chest, his hand gently stroking her hair. The house downstairs was silent for now, but the air between them still felt warm and safe.

Yuta’s eyes opened first. He stared at Misaki for a long moment, seeing her red, swollen eyes, her messy hair, the faint marks on her neck from earlier kisses. Something in his chest stirred. He leaned down slowly and kissed her lips.

It started soft... then turned hungry. His tongue pushed into her mouth, tasting her, claiming her. Misaki moaned quietly into the kiss, her arms tightening around his neck, kissing him back just as desperately. Their tongues slid against each other, lips swollen and wet, breaths mixing. The kiss grew longer, hotter, more desperate — like they were both trying to fill the emptiness they still carried.

When they finally broke apart, panting, Yuta’s voice was low and husky.

"Let’s have sex... Misaki... I need you... now..."

Misaki looked up at him, eyes dark and full of love.

"Okay... let’s..." she whispered, voice trembling with excitement. "I want you inside me..."

They both got naked right there on the bed — Yuta peeling off his shirt and pants, Misaki sliding out of her tank top and shorts. Her small, perfect breasts spilled out, nipples already hard. His cock was still soft, hanging heavy between his thighs, the skin a little dull.

Misaki reached for it first. She wrapped her soft, warm hand around the shaft and slowly stroked it. Then she leaned down and took the head into her mouth, sucking gently, tongue swirling around the tip, trying to make it hard. She sucked his balls softly too, humming around them, moaning like she loved every inch of him.

"Mmmph... come on... get hard for me... I want you so bad..." she whispered between sucks, eyes looking up at him with pure hunger.

Yuta groaned, hips twitching, but his cock stayed soft. It twitched once, twice... but nothing happened. It stayed limp, unresponsive.

Misaki kept trying. She rubbed it faster, sucked deeper, even took it all the way into her throat for a moment, but it didn’t respond. She pulled back, lips shiny with saliva, and looked up at him with worry.

"It’s... still soft..." she whispered, voice breaking a little. "It’s not getting hard..."

She understood immediately. The trauma was still there — the hallucinations, the guilt, the broken mind that still saw his dead mother every night. His cock was betraying him because his head was still full of her.

"It’s the trauma..." Misaki said quietly, cupping his soft cock gently. "It’s still in your head... it won’t go away... I know..."

Yuta’s face fell. He looked away, ashamed, and pulled her into his arms.

"I’m sorry... I can’t... right now..." he whispered, voice thick with guilt. "I still see her... every night... it won’t leave me..."

Misaki didn’t let go. She kissed his cheek softly, then his lips again, gentle this time.

"It’s okay..." she whispered. "Let’s get dressed and go outside to eat something... I know a medicine that sells in the konbini... if you eat this you will get horny... let’s go buy this..."

They both got dressed quickly — Yuta in his shirt and pants, Misaki in her tank top and shorts — and slipped out of the house together. The cloudy sky was darkening, the air heavy with the smell of coming rain. They walked down the empty street side by side, hands brushing, the weight of the village still pressing on them, but for the first time in days they were walking together.

They reached the konbini just as the first fat raindrops began to fall. The shop was still open, warm and bright inside. The two of them walked in silently, hands brushing, the cloudy sky outside pressing down like a lid.

Inside, they found a small corner table. Yuta sat across from Misaki and they shared a pack of instant noodles — spicy ones, the cheap kind that tasted like nothing. They ate together in silence at first, then slowly started talking. Misaki kept stealing glances at him, trying to see if the medicine would work. Yuta ate slowly, but his mind was still heavy.

After the noodles were gone, Misaki stood up.

"Let’s get the medicine..." she whispered, voice soft. "The one on the shelf by the drinks... the one that makes you horny... it’s the strongest they sell."

She paid for both the noodles and the small brown packet while Yuta watched, eyes still a little distant. The cashier gave them a small plastic bag.

Outside, the rain had turned into a downpour. Heavy sheets of water hammered the ground. The village was already blacking out in parts — load shedding was happening again, the whole area dark except for the flickering streetlights. The sky was almost black now, rain pouring so hard it felt like needles.

They decided to take the short-cut road behind the konbini. It was a narrow, muddy path lined with overgrown weeds and old wooden fences, usually used by kids for quick walks to the river. It was risky, but it was shorter.

They stepped into the rain together.

The water hit them instantly — cold, heavy, soaking them in seconds. Misaki’s tank top clung to her breasts, nipples visible through the wet fabric. Yuta’s shirt became transparent, sticking to his chest. They walked close, shoulders almost touching, the short-cut path slippery and dark.

The rain roared around them. Lightning flashed every few seconds, illuminating the path in harsh white bursts. The thunder rolled like distant bombs. Their feet splashed in puddles, the mud sucking at their shoes.

They were halfway down the narrow path when they heard it.

A low, wet sound — plop... plop... — followed by a deep, guttural moan.

"Ahh... yes... fuck me harder..." a woman’s voice whispered, thick with pleasure, mixing perfectly with the rain.

Then another moan — deeper, more animal.

"Take it... take every fucking inch..." a man grunted.

Misaki and Yuta stopped dead in the mud. The torchlight was coming from the tiny, old toilet building right at the end of the konbini— a single flickering bulb inside the window, swinging wildly with the wind. The beam cut through the rain like a knife. The moans and the wet, rhythmic slapping sounds were loud now, mixing with the pouring rain like something obscene and alive.

Misaki’s face went pale.

"Someone... they’re fucking right there..." she whispered, voice shaking.

They didn’t speak. They just stood there in the heavy rain, soaked to the bone, watching the faint light and hearing the filthy moans and the constant plap-plap-plap of bodies fucking in the dark little toilet.

The rain kept pouring harder.

The village was dark.

And the night was only getting filthier.