The air in the hidden grove was thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the damp earth after a recent, soft rain. Moonlight, filtered through the canopy of ancient, gnarled trees, dappled the surface of a secluded, crystalline spring, making it shimmer like liquid starlight. This was a sanctuary, a place untouched by the encroaching shadows of a world that had forgotten its own history, a world that wondered, "Why Does Nobody Remember Me In This World." And in the heart of this sacred space, a figure of timeless grace and profound sorrow often sought solace: Dai Chourou, the Great Elder of the Elves.

Her silver hair, long and flowing like a waterfall of moonlight, cascaded down her back as she sat at the spring's edge, her delicate elven ears just visible beneath the strands. Her eyes, ancient and deep as the forest itself, held a quiet melancholy, a burden of memories that no one else seemed to carry. She was the living embodiment of a past that refused to stay buried, even as the new world, sometimes called Nazeboku, struggled to comprehend its own origins. Tonight, however, there was a faint tremor of anticipation in her usually serene heart. She knew he would come. He was the only one, perhaps in all the realms, who truly saw her, not just as the legendary Great Elder, but as a woman, a being capable of immense passion and profound love.

He emerged from the shadows of the ancient trees, his steps soft, his gaze immediately drawn to her. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a silent language woven from shared burdens and an unyielding connection forged in a world that had forgotten too much. His heart ached with a tenderness that bordered on reverence, mixed with a burgeoning desire that was becoming increasingly difficult to contain. Dai Chourou, with her ethereal beauty and the wisdom of centuries etched into her very being, was an enigma, a living legend who stirred his soul like no other.

He watched her for a moment, captivated. She wore a simple, yet exquisitely tailored, two-piece garment designed for bathing – an elven **bikini** crafted from shimmering, silken threads that clung to her magnificent form. The fabric, a deep forest green, beautifully contrasted with her pale, flawless skin, enhancing the natural curves of her body. His eyes lingered on the swell of her **big tits**, perfectly cupped by the elegant, minimalist top. Even in this modest covering, their generous proportions were undeniable, hinting at the softness and warmth beneath. Her waist was slender, almost impossibly so for a woman of such ample bosom, before flaring into gentle, rounded hips that the lower part of the **bikini** hugged with tantalizing precision. He swallowed, a knot forming in his throat.

She turned her head slowly, her ancient eyes meeting his. A soft, knowing smile touched her lips, a silent invitation that made his blood hum with excitement. There was no need for words. He approached, his steps growing bolder with each passing moment, his hand extended. She reached for him, her touch surprisingly warm, sending a jolt of pleasure through him. He sat beside her, their fingers intertwined, the silence between them rich with unexpressed emotions. The air crackled with a palpable tension, a sensual current flowing between their joined hands.

"The world forgets so much," she murmured, her voice like the rustling of leaves in a gentle breeze, "but some things... some feelings... persist." Her gaze held his, deep and unwavering, communicating centuries of longing and the profound comfort she found in his presence. He leaned closer, drawn in by the magnetic pull of her essence, the wisdom, the beauty, the hidden vulnerability of the **Great Elder**.

His free hand, trembling slightly, reached for her cheek, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of her elven ear. Her skin was impossibly smooth, like polished ivory, and radiated a subtle warmth that contradicted her ancient years. She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment, savoring the intimacy. He could feel the soft pulse at her temple, a fragile rhythm against the vastness of her existence. He felt an overwhelming urge to protect her, to cherish her, to erase the lingering sadness from her gaze, even as his body yearned for more.

He leaned in further, his lips brushing against hers, a whisper-light contact that sent shivers down his spine. Her lips were soft, like rose petals, and tasted faintly of the sweet jasmine in the air. This first touch ignited a spark that had long smoldered between them. She responded, a soft sigh escaping her, her fingers tightening around his. The kiss deepened, slowly at first, a tender exploration that gradually intensified into a passionate melding of mouths. His tongue tentatively met hers, and she welcomed it, a small whimper vibrating in her throat.

The **bikini** felt suddenly too restrictive, a barrier between them. His hands moved, with unspoken permission, to the ties of her top. He fumbled slightly, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Dai Chourou chuckled softly, a low, melodic sound that stirred him deeply, and guided his fingers to the knot. With a gentle tug, the silken fabric fell away, revealing the full, breathtaking glory of her **big tits**. They were magnificent, heavy and full, with dark roseate nipples that seemed to swell and harden under his gaze. The skin was impossibly smooth, unmarred by time, testament to her elven heritage.

He gasped, his eyes wide with awe and hunger. He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of one breast, then the other, feeling the exquisite weight and softness in his palms. He leaned down, burying his face in the valley between them, inhaling her scent – a unique blend of ancient forests, fresh water, and pure, intoxicating femininity. He suckled, gently at first, then with increasing fervor, on one erect nipple, drawing forth a moan that vibrated deep within her chest. She arched her back, her silver hair spilling across the damp earth, her fingers tangling in his hair, urging him on.

His other hand found the ties of her **bikini** bottom. With the same careful reverence, he untied it, letting the fabric fall away to reveal the dark, inviting triangle of her **pussy**. It was perfect, a lush, verdant delta nestled between her smooth, supple thighs, framed by a soft, silvery-blonde patch of hair that shimmered in the moonlight. A faint sheen of moisture was already visible, betraying her arousal. He devoured the sight, his breath catching in his throat. This was the source of life, the heart of her ancient femininity, laid bare before him.

He moved between her legs, kneeling before her, his gaze fixed on her **pussy**. Her eyes, now heavy with desire, watched him, a silent plea for release. He lowered his head, his tongue flicking out tentatively, tasting her, a sweet and salty essence that made his senses reel. Dai Chourou gasped, her body arching off the ground, her fingers clutching his shoulders so tightly he felt the press of her nails. He worked his way slowly, deliberately, over her clitoris, teasing it with the tip of his tongue, then circling, then gently sucking, eliciting increasingly passionate moans and gasps.

Her legs trembled, parting wider to give him better access. He plunged deeper, his tongue tracing the folds of her labia, relishing the slick, growing wetness. She was opening for him, blossoming under his ministrations, her essence pouring forth. "Oh… *ahhh*… please… harder," she whimpered, her voice a fragile, desperate plea. He obeyed, his pace quickening, his mouth latching onto her clitoris with renewed intensity, sucking and flicking until her hips bucked against his face, her body writhing with exquisite pleasure. Her climax, when it came, was a breathtaking wave of spasms that shook her entire frame, a primal cry escaping her lips as she convulsed against his mouth, her scent filling his nostrils, intoxicating him.

When the last tremors subsided, she lay breathless, her chest heaving, her eyes glazed with post-orgasmic bliss. He lifted his head, a triumphant smile on his lips, and kissed her deeply, tasting himself on her. He then positioned himself between her legs, her thighs parting naturally to receive him. Her **pussy**, still slick and engorged from his efforts, pulsed invitingly. He traced the entrance with the head of his penis, feeling the exquisite friction, watching her eyes widen in anticipation. "Please," she whispered again, her voice husky with desire, "I need you, truly, inside me."

He entered her slowly, deliberately, giving her time to adjust, feeling her warm, tight embrace around him. A soft gasp escaped her lips as he stretched her, filling her completely. The initial pressure gave way to an intense, thrilling fullness, and she arched her back, burying her face in his neck, her ancient wisdom momentarily eclipsed by pure, unadulterated sensation. He waited, allowing her body to acclimatize, feeling her internal muscles clench and relax around him. Her essence, the very being of the **Great Elder**, now enveloped him.

Then, he began to move, a slow, rhythmic thrust that gradually gained momentum. Each stroke brought a sigh, a moan, a gasp from Dai Chourou. Their bodies, slick with sweat and the spring's cool mist, slapped together with a primal rhythm, echoing through the silent grove. Her **big tits** bounced with each thrust, their weight a mesmerizing sight, her nipples brushing against his chest, sending tingles of pleasure through him. He found a rhythm that seemed to resonate with the very pulse of the ancient world, a connection that transcended time and memory.

He whispered words of adoration into her ear, telling her how beautiful she was, how much she meant to him, how her spirit, her memories, and her body were a sanctuary in this world of forgotten truths. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, her legs tangling with his, cementing their union. He lifted her hips, pushing deeper, finding a spot that made her cry out with renewed passion, her **pussy** clenching around him like a velvet fist. The intensity of their coupling grew, each thrust more powerful, more desperate than the last. The world outside, the confusion of "Why Does Nobody Remember Me In This World," faded into oblivion, replaced by the symphony of their shared pleasure.

Her moans grew louder, more guttural, as she rode the wave of sensation, her body trembling uncontrollably. He felt his own climax building, a searing heat that gathered in his loins. He drove into her with one final, deep thrust, burying himself fully inside her as they both cried out, their voices mingling in a glorious crescendo of release. Her inner muscles seized around him, milking every last drop of pleasure from him as his seed spilled deep within her, a warm, pulsing wave that left them both breathless and utterly spent.

They lay intertwined, their bodies still fused, catching their breath under the gentle moonlight. The scent of jasmine and their shared passion hung heavy in the air. Dai Chourou, the **Great Elder**, lay nestled against him, her head on his shoulder, her silver hair fanned out around them like a halo. She traced patterns on his chest, her touch light and tender. The sadness in her eyes had been replaced by a deep, profound peace, a glowing warmth that radiated from her being. In that moment, in that hidden grove, surrounded by the echoes of a forgotten world, they had created a memory that would never fade, a bond woven from passion, love, and the unique understanding that only they shared.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice soft, filled with an emotion that transcended words. "For remembering. For seeing. For loving." He held her tighter, pressing a kiss to her forehead. In his arms, the weight of centuries lifted from her, if only for a night. And he knew, with unwavering certainty, that he would always remember her, the magnificent **Elf**, Dai Chourou, in a world that had forgotten everything else. Their love, a beacon in the shadows of "Naze Boku No Sekai Wo Daremo Oboeteinai No Ka," would be their own personal, unforgettable history.