That is if you accept the fact that I had to rest the edge of my hand on her hood as I trimmed her Mons. An unmistakable wetness covered the palm of m... hand. A familiar arousing aroma wafted up as I used my hand to push my mom’s pussy lips first to one side then the other as I trimmed the hair in the crease between her pussy lips and her thigh.My cock, trapped in my jeans, ached. Several times I stopped to adjust it. Finally, realizing false modesty was out of place, I stopped and pulled off my. I knew, just before she scooped the contents out, what was coming next…and I didn’t like it! Her hand came out of the bowl holding some ice cubes, dripping in her hand.I tried to thrash around, hoping somehow to escape, but she laughed, and placed her free hand in the small of my back, pushing me into the mattress.The hand holding the ice cubes moved over my back, and she held it there, letting the ice water drip on me. When the first drop hit me, it felt like it was burning, and I jerked. She. "Your excited," she said."Yes I am," I replied truthfully, and a big part of my excited state was knowing that the baby inside Mara wasn't mine, but Omar's...the older African man from Zambia with whom Mara and I had met in Nairobi nearly nine months earlier.I ran my hands, palms down, over the curving expanse of my wife's huge, pregnant belly, in slow, gentle circles, and as I did, I could feel the occasional thump of Omar's baby against the inside of my wife's womb; and it's very aliveness,. Von Gelding is dead, his manor destroyed and his daughter ravaged. I will start with the last event, as it foments the other two. Not daring to leave the cellar, I concentrated on Greta von Gelding. I had seen her through the window the night I’d arrived. Her beauty was a beacon drawing me to the dimly lit room. Despite the danger, I had to stop to admire her. The three days between that fateful moment and my finally having her, seemed like an eternity even to me. How could she have become so.