The commentary, whispered and muttered, reached the mother-in-law's ears. Each word, each observation, each crude assessment of her body and her pleasure and her degradation, added fuel to the fire. The heat, already unbearable, blazed higher. Her pussy, clenching and releasing, was a faucet. The fluid, running down her thighs, pooled at her feet. The milk, arcing from her nipples, created a white curtain around her.
She orgasmed. Again. And again. Each climax, triggered by the thrust, by the words, by the eyes, by the overwhelming totality of her exposure, hit like a wave. Her body convulsed. Her pussy clamped. Her anal, above, twitched and clenched. Her breasts, swinging wildly, sprayed milk in unpredictable patterns.
"Your skin is so clean and milky white," one man said, louder now. "Are you some kind of noble woman?"
