Lydia lay sprawled on the bed, legs spread far apart from each other. Other parts of her body were covered by the moon-light blue duvet, leaving just the sight of her bare, neatly trimmed pussy.
She had most likely shaved while he was away, Aristarkh analysed.
Now, however, wasn't the time for analysis. He was already throbbing hard and aching, the image of his mother replaying in his mind.
The explicit sight hit him like a cursed wave.
Lydia's pussy was glistening under the soft glow of the cursed lanterns, the smooth pink folds slightly parted and already slick with her own arousal. A small patch of trimmed silver-blonde hair crowned the top, neat and inviting.
Her thighs were toned and pale, spread wide in obvious invitation.
Aristarkh's cock twitched violently in his pants.
The earlier tension with his mother surged back full force.
