He lifted her. Her body, the thick, wet, naked frame, was carried. Out of the lake, through the garden, into the house. Through the halls, past the servants — who bowed, who did not look, who did not see — to the master bedroom.
The bedroom. The bed. The silk sheets. The pillows. The space where she and her husband had slept. Where her husband was now recovering, in another room, healed but weak.
He threw her on the bed. Her body, the thick frame, bounced on the silk. Her enormous boobs, bare, heaved. Her hairy pussy, swollen, leaking cum, was there. Her thick ass, the heavy cheeks, pressed into the silk.
He removed her clothes. The remnants, the torn dress, the soaked fabric, were pulled. She was naked. Completely. Her thick body, her enormous tits, her wide hips, her hairy pussy, her mature, maternal, beautiful body, was bare.
He pounced.
