Vera's body trembled violently in my arms, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps as she clung to me. "Hmm... I can't... it hurts so much..." Her voice was thick with humiliation and pain, her nails digging into my shoulders as she fought to hold back the inevitable. "How can I poop like this...? It's too much—!"
I held her tightly, my mind racing with a filthy, depraved idea. Vera was in her 30s—unmarried, her body ripe and untouched by the hands of a man for far too long.
The thought sent a dark, electric thrill through me. I didn't know much about her, but right now, all I could focus on was the way her body responded to me—the way her skin flushed, the way her breath hitched, the way her thighs trembled with need.
I lowered my voice to a dark, husky murmur, my lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "Aunt Vera... why don't you remove your skirt first?" My fingers traced the edge of her waist, my touch deliberate, teasing. "I have an idea..."
