The night air in Anastasia Hoshin's private estate was unusually still, thick with the scent of jasmine and the distant murmur of the invisible river that wound through her vast lands. Candles flickered softly in the opulent sitting room, casting dancing shadows across the rich tapestries and polished dark wood. Anastasia, normally a whirlwind of shrewd calculations and diplomatic finesse, sat by the grand window, a silk-clad silhouette against the moon-drenched gardens. Her long, silver-spun hair, usually meticulously styled, was unbound tonight, spilling over her shoulders like a waterfall, catching the ambient light with an ethereal glow. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, an invitation to intimacy that few were ever granted.

My gaze was fixed on her, an ache of longing settling deep in my chest. Her profile, sharp and refined, softened slightly in the dim light. Tonight, the formidable merchant queen of Hoshin was simply Anastasia, a woman allowing herself the luxury of respite, and perhaps, something more. I approached slowly, the soft pad of my steps barely disturbing the serene quiet. She didn't turn, but I felt her awareness, a subtle shift in her posture, a slight tightening of her shoulders that spoke volumes of her anticipation, mirroring my own.

"The stars are bright tonight," I murmured, my voice a low rumble, breaking the silence like a gentle wave on a shore. I stood behind her, my hands hovering, resisting the urge to touch the delicate curve of her neck, the inviting cascade of her hair. The air around her was warm, fragrant with her unique perfume – a subtle blend of exotic spices and something undeniably floral, distinctly Anastasia.

She sighed, a soft, almost imperceptible sound that resonated through me. "They are, indeed. Sometimes, even a Baroness Hoshin needs to simply… exist." Her voice, usually sharp with her Kansai-ben inflections, was softer, more melodic, stripped of its usual business-like edge. It was a voice meant for whispers, for secrets shared in the dark.

I finally succumbed, my hands settling gently on her shoulders, my thumbs tracing the smooth, exposed skin just above the collar of her silk robe. She shivered, a tiny tremor that sent a jolt of electricity through my fingertips. Her long hair tickled my wrists as I leaned in, my lips brushing against her temple. "And tonight, you exist for me," I whispered, the words a promise, a declaration.

Anastasia leaned her head back, resting it against my chest, her silver hair spilling over my arm like cool silk. The movement was an unspoken permission, an invitation to deepen our embrace. My arms wrapped around her slender waist, pulling her closer until her back was flush against my front. I could feel the delicate curve of her spine, the warmth of her body seeping through the thin silk. Her breath hitched slightly, a delightful sound that confirmed her desire.

My fingers, long and careful, began to thread through her magnificent long hair, separating strands, gently massaging her scalp. She moaned softly, a sound of pure pleasure, her body relaxing into my touch. "You always know how to ease the day's burdens," she purred, her voice a low, rumbling hum against my chest. "A talent most invaluable."

I kissed the crown of her head, inhaling the clean, sweet scent of her hair. "And you, Anastasia, always know how to make my world worth enduring." My hands moved lower, tracing the line of her ribs, pausing at the delicate ties of her robe. Her breath caught again, a clear signal that the time for hesitation was over. With a slow, deliberate motion, I untied the silk sash, allowing the fabric to fall open, revealing the creamy expanse of her back, the subtle curve of her hips, and the tantalizing glimpse of her inner thigh as she shifted.

She stood and turned to face me, the silk robe now hanging open, revealing the luxurious lace chemise beneath. Her eyes, usually shrewd and assessing, were now pools of liquid desire, reflecting the candlelight. She reached up, her elegant fingers cupping my face, her touch surprisingly firm, almost possessive. "Tonight," she began, her voice barely a whisper, "let us forget the world. Let us only remember each other."

Her lips met mine then, soft at first, a tentative exploration, then deepening with an urgency that stole my breath. Her mouth was warm, tasting faintly of the sweet wine she'd sipped earlier. Her tongue, delicate and inquisitive, danced with mine, a prelude to the intimate ballet our bodies were about to perform. Her hands moved from my face, down my neck, unbuttoning my shirt with a precision that belied her rising passion. The garment fell to the floor, forgotten, as her palms spread across my bare chest, her touch sending shivers down my spine.

I returned her ardour, my hands slipping under the lace of her chemise, feeling the soft swell of her breasts. Her nipples, already puckered and hard, brushed against my palms through the sheer fabric, sending a fresh wave of heat through us both. Her long hair, a magnificent silver curtain, framed her face as she arched into my touch, her moans becoming more insistent, more demanding. We moved as one, a dance of growing desire, shedding layers of clothing until we stood, naked and vulnerable, bathed in the soft, flickering light.

My gaze devoured her. Anastasia Hoshin, the epitome of grace and power, now stood before me, every inch of her exquisite form begging to be touched, explored, worshipped. Her skin, pale and flawless, glowed in the candlelight. Her breasts, full and high, beckoned, their rosy aureolas already swollen. Her slender waist tapered to the gentle flare of her hips, leading to the inviting triangle of dark, soft curls at her core – her **pussy**, already glistening with the promise of pleasure.

I lowered myself to my knees before her, reverently kissing her belly, then tracing a path downwards with my lips and tongue. Anastasia gasped, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. Her long hair spilled over my shoulders as I reached her feminine core. The scent of her aroused body was intoxicating, musky and sweet, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. My tongue flickered, tasting her readiness, the delicate folds of her labia, the slick moisture already coating her inner lips.

"Oh, please," she whispered, her voice strained with desire, "don't torment me so." But her hips bucked gently, pressing herself further against my face, betraying her enjoyment of the exquisite torture. I ignored her pleas, my tongue finding her sensitive clitoris, circling it gently, then sucking it deeply into my mouth. Her back arched, her hands gripping my hair tighter, her moans filling the room, raw and unrestrained.

I worked her diligently, my tongue and lips weaving a spell of pure ecstasy. Her body trembled, her legs shaking as she clung to me, lost in the sensations. "Yes... oh, yes... harder... deeper..." she gasped, her voice thick with passion. I obeyed, suckling and teasing, bringing her to the brink, then pulling back, drawing out her pleasure until she was practically writhing beneath my ministrations. The scent of her arousal grew stronger, almost overpowering, a testament to her unbridled need.

Finally, with a guttural cry, her body tensed, her hips rising off the floor, and she came, a powerful, shuddering orgasm that left her weak and breathless. Her long hair, now damp with sweat, clung to her temples, and her body pulsed with aftershocks. I held her close, stroking her hips, allowing her to recover, but the scent of her climax only fueled my own desire.

She eventually sagged, her eyes hazy with pleasure, but a new, mischievous glint soon flickered within them. "My turn, wouldn't you say?" she purred, her voice still a little breathless, but laced with her usual playful confidence. She pulled me up, guiding me towards the plush, low-slung sofa, pushing me back against the cushions. She straddled me, her legs framing my hips, her delicate **pussy** hovering tantalizingly close to my straining erection.

Her fingers danced over my chest, then descended, circling the base of my shaft, teasing and stroking. Her touch was exquisite, each feather-light caress driving me closer to the edge. Her long hair fell around us like a silver curtain, enclosing us in our private world of burgeoning lust. She leaned in, her lips brushing my ear, her breath warm. "I have a confession to make," she whispered, her voice husky. "There are… deeper desires I've long kept hidden. Desires for you to explore."

My heart pounded in my chest. "Anything, Anastasia. Tell me."

She bit her lip, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "I've often wondered… what it would feel like. To be completely filled by you. In every way possible." My mind raced, understanding dawning. She was talking about **anal**. A thrill shot through me, a mix of excitement and tenderness for her daring vulnerability.

"Are you sure?" I asked, wanting to ensure her consent was absolute, even as my body screamed for the intimacy she proposed. She met my gaze, a flicker of apprehension mixed with fierce determination in her eyes. "More than sure. I trust you. Completely. Take me there."

I gently eased her off me, fetching the small vial of scented oil that always sat on her bedside table – an essential for such ventures. I poured a generous amount onto my palm, warming it between my hands, before slowly, carefully, beginning to massage it into the sensitive skin around her anus. She gasped, a sharp intake of breath, her muscles tensing momentarily, but then, under my gentle, circular strokes, she began to relax.

"It will be a little strange at first," I murmured, kissing her forehead, trying to soothe any lingering apprehension. "But I promise to go slow. Tell me if it's too much." Her eyes fluttered closed, a single, exquisite tear escaping the corner, not of pain, but of profound emotion, of trust.

I continued to prepare her, my fingers spreading her delicate folds, lubricating the tight, pink entrance. The scent of the oil mingled with her natural musk, a heady aphrodisiac. I began with a single fingertip, pushing gently, feeling the incredible tightness, the resistance, then the slow give as her muscles began to yield. She whimpered, a small, pained sound, but then she leaned into my hand, guiding me, urging me deeper. I added another finger, stretching her carefully, meticulously, until I felt confident she was ready for me.

I repositioned her, laying her on her stomach across the sofa, her delectable ass raised slightly, giving me perfect access. Her long hair fanned out across the cushions, a silver halo around her head. My erection, throbbing and hard, was already slick with her desire. I carefully aligned myself, my tip pressing against her moist, stretched entrance. "Here we go, my love," I whispered, my voice thick with anticipation.

With a slow, agonizing push, I began to penetrate her. Anastasia cried out, a sharp, surprised sound, her body stiffening. I paused immediately, holding still, allowing her to adjust. Her muscles clenched tightly around me, an incredible, almost suffocating embrace. "Breathe, Anastasia. Just breathe," I coached, kissing her back, stroking her spine. Slowly, inch by agonizing inch, I pushed further, feeling her inner walls give way, stretching to accommodate my size. Her whimpers turned into gasps, then to low moans as the initial shock subsided, replaced by a deep, unfamiliar fullness.

When I was fully inside her, buried to the hilt in her tight, exquisite **anal** channel, she let out a long, shuddering sigh. "Oh… my… gods," she breathed, her voice a mixture of awe and pleasure. The sensation was incredible, a warmth and tightness far beyond what her **pussy** could offer. I remained still for a moment, letting her body acclimatize to the profound invasion, feeling the pulse of her muscles gripping me.

Then, I began to move, slow, deliberate thrusts, pulling back almost to the tip, then driving deep again, exploring the virgin territory. Each thrust brought a fresh wave of pleasure, a new kind of intensity. Anastasia’s hips began to rock against mine, her fingers digging into the sofa cushions, her moans growing louder, more urgent. Her long hair swayed with the rhythm of our coupling, a mesmerizing dance of silver in the soft light.

"Yes! Oh, yes! Deeper! Harder!" she gasped, her body arching with each thrust, completely lost in the powerful sensations. The friction was intense, a deep, grinding pleasure that vibrated through both of us. The sounds of our bodies slapping, the wet sounds of our intimate friction, filled the room, a symphony of passion. Her **pussy**, neglected for the moment, pulsed with residual desire, dripping onto the cushions.

I picked up the pace, my thrusts becoming more primal, more forceful, driving into her with abandon. Anastasia was screaming now, not in pain, but in pure, unadulterated ecstasy. Her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me even deeper, demanding more. Her fingernails scored my back, leaving faint red marks, but I barely registered them, consumed by the burning heat and tightness of her embrace. Her **long hair** was now tangled, wild, a perfect reflection of the storm raging within her.

I felt the familiar build-up, the pressure coiling in my loins, and I knew I couldn't hold back much longer. "I'm close, Anastasia! I'm going to spill inside you!" I roared, my voice raw with passion. Her eyes, wide and unfocused, met mine over her shoulder, a look of profound surrender on her face. "Do it! Fill me! All of me! I want your **creampie**!" she demanded, her voice hoarse, her body trembling on the verge of another climax.

With a final, guttural cry, I plunged deep, emptying myself into her tight, welcoming **anal** channel. A hot, pulsing gush of my essence flooded her, the feeling of my seed filling her depths was beyond description. Anastasia screamed, a long, drawn-out cry of pure, unadulterated release, her body convulsing around me as she simultaneously climaxed from the profound internal fullness and the intense stimulation. She bucked and writhed, her muscles clenching around my retreating shaft as the aftershocks rippled through her.

We lay there for a long moment, breathless, intertwined, my body still buried deep within her. The scent of our spent passion hung heavy in the air. The silence that followed was thick, punctuated only by our ragged breaths and the distant chirping of crickets. Slowly, carefully, I withdrew from her, the slick, warm sensation of my **creampie** oozing from her. She didn't move, her body sated, utterly spent.

I gently turned her over, cradling her in my arms, pulling a soft blanket over our spent forms. Her silver **long hair** fanned out across my chest, damp with sweat, but still beautiful. She nestled into me, her head tucked beneath my chin, her hand instinctively finding mine, intertwining our fingers. Her eyes, still heavy-lidded with pleasure, gazed up at me.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible, thick with emotion. "Thank you for showing me… that." A faint blush colored her cheeks, a rare sight for the usually composed Baroness. "I… I didn't know it could be like that."

I kissed her forehead, then her lips, a soft, lingering kiss that promised forever. "Any desire you have, Anastasia, I will explore with you. As long as you trust me."

She squeezed my hand, a small, contented smile playing on her lips. "I do," she murmured, her voice laced with profound affection. "More than you know." And as the first hint of dawn began to paint the sky outside, filtering through the curtains, we drifted into a peaceful slumber, bodies entwined, hearts connected, forever bound by the raw, exquisite passion and profound intimacy we had shared in the dark. Anastasia Hoshin, the formidable merchant queen, had not only given her body, but her very soul, into my keeping, leaving me utterly fulfilled and utterly hers, a testament to the boundless love found even in the world of Re: Zero Starting Life In Another World.