Vespera looked. Despite herself. Despite the rage and the shame and the horror. She looked at her mother. At the face, twenty years younger. At the skin, smooth and luminous. At the body, thick and responsive and alive.
"She looks..." Vespera started. The word caught in her throat.
"Younger," Viktor finished. "Healthier. Alive. Because of me. Because of what I gave her. Because of what we did."
He pulled the mother-in-law's panties aside. The fabric, thin and wet, pulled away from her pussy. The lips, swollen and reddened, were visible. The cum, white and thick, leaked from the entrance.
"Let me fuck her however I want," he said. The words, directed at Vespera, were a command disguised as a request.
