Itch(18+)

Allen woke up to the sound of moaning.

And not just any moaning.

It was a rhythmic, deep, and insistent moan that made him instantly wish he was still asleep. But no, curiosity won the battle. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the grogginess as the sounds continued to fill the air.

"Uuuuunnnghh~~... Ahhh~~ Mmm... Ahh~~"

It was definitely not a pleasant sound, more like someone trying to break their pelvis in a deeply ungraceful way. He groaned, trying to figure out what kind of nightmare he'd stumbled into now.

As he dragged himself out of bed, Fina was already awake, smirking like she had just been let in on a private joke.

"You hear that?" Allen asked, trying to pretend like he wasn't very concerned about what the hell was happening.

Fina just raised an eyebrow. "Of course, I hear it. The whole village hears it."

Allen blinked. "Who the hell is making those noises?"

"Elder Lunara," Fina said with a teasing smile. "She's, uh, very... enthusiastic in the morning."

The moans outside only grew louder.

"Uhhh~~! Ahh~~! Ohhh~~! Don't stop... OHHHH~~!!"

"Elder Lunara?!" Allen gaped. "Isn't she, like... a thousand years old or something?"

Fina nodded sagely. "Yeah. But age is just a number, right? She's been... helping the younger men with their... morning problems."

Allen stared at her, mouth slightly agape. "What the actual hell is going on in this village?!"

Fina leaned in, whispering dramatically, "She's got... skills."

The next moan shattered any lingering doubts in Allen's mind.

"AHHHH~~!!! YES, YES, YES~~!! DON'T STOP, YOUNG WARRIOR~~!!"

Allen stared blankly at the wall. He had no idea what to make of this. Elder Lunara was literally wrecking a guy's hips?

He shook his head. "What's the deal with that? Is this... a morning ritual or something?"

Fina, who was trying not to laugh, shrugged. "Well, she's a powerful elder, and the younger men, especially those with, uh, stamina problems, come to her for 'guidance.'"

"And this is what they call 'guidance'?" Allen said, deadpan. "Sounds like she's breaking bones, not teaching a lesson."

The moaning intensified.

"Ahhh~~!!! OHHH~! So good! YESSS~! HARDER, HARDER, HARDER~~!!"

Fina put a finger to her lips. "Shh, they're probably near the riverbank by now, you know, for privacy."

Allen glanced at her. "Privacy? That's privacy? The whole village can hear it!"

Fina just giggled. "That's part of it. The loud moaning, the, uh, theatrics... It's a bit of a... thing around here."

"But why is she—? Why does she need to—?" Allen stammered. He was genuinely confused.

Fina grinned. "Well, let's just say she knows how to make men forget their problems. And some serious morning exercises tend to get... loud." She tapped his shoulder. "You should go see for yourself. It's a real experience."

Allen shook his head and muttered to himself, "This place is insane."

The moaning got louder, now mixed with gasps and low, sultry sighs.

"AHHH~~! Mmmm~~!!"

"I gotta see this," Allen finally decided. If only for the sake of his own sanity. He needed answers.

So, reluctantly, he made his way toward the sound, Fina trailing behind him like she knew what he was about to witness would either ruin or redefine his understanding of this world.

As they neared the riverbank, the sounds became even clearer. The moans and sighs echoed like a symphony of primal urges.

"OOOOOHHH~~!!! MORE, MORE~~!!"

Allen could feel his brain starting to short-circuit. This was not what he had expected this morning. He peeked through some thick leaves, and there she was—Elder Lunara, in all her glory.

She was, without question, older than the concept of time itself, but damn, the woman was giving this poor, young man the kind of ride that would make even a seasoned stallion reconsider its life choices.

The guy was moaning in a way that seemed to combine pain with absolute ecstasy. His back arched as Lunara rode him with an intensity that made Allen's jaw go slack.

"OOOOOHHHHH~~!!! YES, YES, YESSS~~!!"

The sight was... well, it was educational. Allen had no idea whether to be impressed or horrified. Lunara's hips moved with an unmatched rhythm, a skill that made the young man moan in desperate approval.

Fina's voice came from behind him, low and amused, "See? Told you."

"I... I don't even know what to say," Allen whispered.

Lunara threw her head back, letting out a deep, throaty moan that shook the nearby trees.

"AHHH~~!! FASTER, HARDER~~!!!"

The young man beneath her was barely able to keep up, but it didn't matter. Lunara had complete control. Allen couldn't look away.

Fina sighed in delight, her tone almost reverent. "She's the master."

"I'm gonna need a drink," Allen muttered. He turned around, eyes wide with confusion and disbelief. "I swear to gods, I'm never going to look at this village the same way again."

The sound of Lunara's powerful moans echoed in his mind long after they'd walked away. It was like the village's morning ritual—one that, apparently, came with an audible soundtrack.

Fina grinned, totally unfazed by the scene. "See? I told you... morning lessons can be very... intense."

Allen could only nod. "Yeah. Intense. That's one way to put it."

As they walked back, the noise slowly faded behind them. The villagers would have their stories for the day. Allen, on the other hand, was seriously considering moving to another dimension. Or at least taking a long, long nap.

But, hey, at least he'd learned something. Don't underestimate old ladies when it comes to stamina.

Allen had just sat down on a rock, head in his hands, trying to mentally scrub the image of Elder Lunara's pelvic beatdown from his soul. He hadn't even gotten through one full sigh before—

*THUD THUD THUD THUD*

A frantic set of footsteps thundered toward him like a stampede of emotional trauma.

"HUFF—HUFF—HELP!!"

Allen looked up.

It was one of the husbands from yesterday's hygiene lesson—he recognized the guy by the tragic combo of a weak mustache and strong chest hair.

The man dropped to his knees in front of Allen like Allen was a wandering monk and this was a divine emergency.

"SIR HUMAN!" he wailed, snot already pouring. "IT'S MY WIFE!"

Allen blinked. "Okay. What about her?"

"HER PUSSY'S ON FIIIIIIIIIRE!!!"

Allen stared. "Like... *metaphorically*?"

"NO!! LITERALLY—NO WAIT—PHYSICALLY—BUT—NOT—WITH—ACTUAL—FLAMES!!" he sobbed. "I MEAN IT BURNS!! LIKE IT'S CURSED!!"

Allen shot a look at Fina, who had materialized beside him like she lived for this.

"I swear to god, if this man used a shiny leaf," Allen muttered.

The husband clutched Allen's pants leg. "I TRIED TO CLEAN HER! JUST LIKE YOU TAUGHT US! I SWIRLED! I WIGGLED! I EVEN DID THE FINAL PAT!!"

"Did you test the leaf first?" Allen asked slowly.

"I—I sniffed it?"

Allen facepalmed. "You *sniffed* it? Bro, you can't smell for poison ivy!"

The man wailed harder. "SHE'S SCREAMING RIGHT NOW!! SHE SAID HER LIPS ARE ANGRY!! HER THIGHS ARE SWEATING IN *FEAR!!*"

Fina leaned in, chewing on a piece of fruit. "He used the devil's napkin. I can smell it on him."

Allen groaned and stood. "Take me to her. Let's go before she slaps your soul out of your body."

They sprinted back to the man's hut, where cries of anguish were echoing like a dying opera.

"AAAAAHHH\~\~!!! WHY IS IT *STINGING*?! WHO DID THIS TO ME?! I'LL BITE SOMEONE'S DICK OFF!!!"

Allen stepped inside with caution.

There she was—flat on her back, legs kicked up in the air, and a *very* swollen coochie radiating red like it was powering the village's solar grid.

"MA'AM," Allen called gently, crouching down like a bomb squad technician. "You've got some… leaf burn. But you're gonna be okay."

She glared at him through tear-smeared eyes. "WHAT KIND OF CLEANING INVOLVES SANDPAPER LEAVES?!"

Allen shot a glare at the husband. "This idiot used something from the itchy zone. We went over this!"

The wife growled. "I *trusted* him. I let him between my legs with a leaf, and he BETRAYED ME."

Fina entered casually, tossed Allen the emergency salve, and sat down like she was watching her morning cartoons.

Allen scooped some in his fingers. "Alright. This is gonna feel cold. But then… hopefully less 'hellfire-on-labia.'"

He gently applied the salve while whispering soothing nothings like, "We love you, soft parts. You didn't deserve this."

The woman exhaled deeply. "Ohhh\~... finally. Someone who understands me."

Allen wiped his hands. "Another saved cooch. Another lesson in not being dumb."

The husband shuffled forward on his knees. "I'm sorry, honey…"

She stared at him, eyes dead serious. "You're sleeping *outside*. With the goats."

Allen stood, clapped his hands, and turned to Fina. "I swear, we need a certification system or something. Make these guys earn a pussy license."

Fina nodded. "We'll call it... the Coochie Credential."

Allen paused. "...I was joking, but now I'm serious."

From outside, another shout rang out.

"HEEELP! MY BALLS ARE—AAAGHH!"

Allen sighed. "Fina. Prep the salve. It's gonna be one of those days."

Fina grinned and held up the jar. "At this rate, we'll need a second batch."

Allen groaned. "I came to this world expecting dragons and quests. Instead, I got flaming pussies and idiot boyfriends."

And thus began day two of Allen's unintended role as the Village Genital Healer™.

The legend… unfortunately... was growing.

——

Allen stood at the front of the makeshift village classroom—a half-circle of stumps arranged around a flat rock he was now calling "The Pussy Podium." Behind him, a crudely drawn diagram was etched into the dirt with a stick. It looked like a vagina if you squinted... and were drunk... and forgiving.

He clapped his hands once. Loud. Sharp. Authoritative. Like a man about to teach sexual anatomy to a crowd of glorified cavemen.

"Alright, dickbrains. Let's get one thing straight: none of y'all know what a pussy is."

The men blinked. One scratched his head. Another raised a paw timidly. "Isn't it… the part you go into?"

Allen stared. "That's like saying the ocean is just 'wet stuff.'"

There were confused murmurs.

Fina sat nearby on a rock, munching dried fruit and grinning like this was the best show of her life. Zena and Cherry flanked her, taking notes on bark with charcoal like dedicated cooch scholars.

Allen cleared his throat. "Behold—your training dummy."

Mirka stormed out of a nearby tent, arms crossed, tail twitching with equal parts irritation and secret arousal. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

Allen grinned. "You owe me for saving your spicy pussy yesterday. This is redemption."

Mirka grumbled but stepped onto the flat rock and laid back, legs spread just enough to make every man in the audience turn red or start sweating like roast pigs.

Allen pointed dramatically at her with a long stick. "This—*this*—is a pussy."

One of the guys gasped like it was a museum reveal. "Whoa…"

Allen knelt beside her. "Let's go over the parts. Because clearly, y'all been treating this thing like a coin slot at the wrong arcade."

He pointed to the top. "This lil' guy? *Clit.* Not a decoration. It's a goddamn power button."

Mirka flinched. "Be gentle when you say it like that, damn…"

Allen ignored her. "You touch this right and she sings. You ignore it and she gets dryer than grandma's elbows."

He pointed lower. "Entrance. Where the cock goes. But you don't *just* go in, got it? You warm it up. Like an oven. You don't shove raw meat into a cold oven."

A guy raised his paw. "Do we… preheat the pussy?"

Allen blinked. "…Sure. Let's go with that. Yes. Preheat the pussy."

More nodding. The tribe was learning.

He tapped a finger to the inner lips. "These? Labia. Stop calling them 'the squishy bits.' These protect the inner canal. You respect the lips. You don't maul them like bread dough."

Another hand shot up. "What about the hole underneath it?"

Allen paused. "That's the butthole. Not part of today's curriculum. Don't mix the exits, folks."

Mirka groaned, face red. "Can you *not* talk about my butthole like it's a side quest?"

Allen smirked. "Focus, students. Now\... the angle matters. Your cock isn't a battering ram. It's a key. You don't *slam* it in—you *guide* it."

One guy scratched his chin. "What if she's tight?"

Allen nodded. "Then you warm her up. Use fingers. Use your tongue. Don't act like your cock's doing charity work."

Fina raised a paw. "Preach."

Allen stood back. "Let's review with a diagram."

He drew a quick outline in the dirt.

"Clit. Labia. Entrance. G-spot's in here—" he jabbed a squiggle. "You'll know you found it when she grabs your hair like she's possessed."

Cherry blinked. "What's the G-spot?"

Allen pointed to Mirka's belly. "Like... a pleasure button, inside. Hit it right and you'll make her toes throw gang signs."

Zena whispered, "I *need* him to show Banno this…"

Allen kept going. "And now\... cock etiquette."

He stood, pantomiming like he had an invisible dick. "You don't just poke. You tease. You glide. You make her *ask* for it. Got it?"

There were nods. One guy whispered, "Glide the cock. Make her beg."

Mirka was beet red now, covering her face. "Can I go home yet?!"

Allen patted her thigh. "You're doing great, champ. The coochie thanks you."

He turned to the class. "Any questions?"

A dude in the back raised a paw. "How do we know when she's done?"

Allen blinked. "If you have to *ask*, she's *not* done."

Fina stood up. "Ladies, vote time—how many of you fake moans so your man will finish and stop humping like a jackrabbit?"

Every single girl raised a paw.

The guys collectively gasped like they'd been shot.

Allen whistled. "And that's why we're here, gentlemen."

He wrote "**MAKE HER CUM FIRST**" in big bold letters on a leaf and nailed it to a tree.

"Memorize it. Tattoo it. I don't care."

He looked back at Mirka and offered a hand. "You did amazing. Let's get you some juice and a towel."

She grabbed his hand, still blushing. "You owe me like... twelve orgasms after this."

Allen winked. "Baby, I'll give you the *deluxe curriculum*."

Behind them, the boys scrambled to copy diagrams and mutter terms to each other like they were prepping for the deadliest test ever invented.

"The clit is sacred…"

"Preheat the pussy…"

"No battering ram…"

And thus, the Tribe of Dumbasses took its first step into coochie literacy.

A new age was coming.

A wetter age.