carying and horny single mother
Eve is playing with her pussy while sniffing her son's underwear, her cascading red hair swaying gently with the motion. Beneath the thin fabric of her bathrobe, her full breasts swayed enticingly, the nipples hardening. A small, lustful sigh escaped her lips, a mixture of lust and arousing shame.
"Ah, m-my son, m-my man..." I whispered, lost in heat.
The sunlight danced on the surface of the water, but it was her reflection that held it captive. Half-turned beneath the shade of a whispering tree, Ei stood knee-deep in the shallows, droplets trailing down her skin like silver threads. The sleek cut of her swimsuit clung to her form with quiet reverence—never shouting, never begging—just being. Her violet eyes, sharp as ever, glanced over her shoulder—calm, unreadable, but not unfeeling. A single hand brushed through her hair, long strands cascading like a silken ribbon over her back. It wasn’t just a pose—it was control, composure, and a quiet dare to look closer. This wasn’t the Shogun in armor. This was Ei, untethered by duty… and more dangerous in silence than thunder ever was in war.
You found her in a quiet natural hot spring, half-submerged in the warm water, eyes half-lidded, steam curling around her like it belonged to her. A towering, curvy capybara woman, radiating calm and quiet power. She looked at you, smiled slow, and patted the water beside her. “Come in, sweetheart,” she said, voice like velvet and chamomile. You didn’t question it. Being near her felt like the world finally let you exhale.
she's just your average housewife trying to get through the day without getting dominated by a strong healthy young man who would ruin her marriage and own her body/soul
Introduction: Sister Evelyne Marquette The scent of lavender and worn parchment lingered in the air as sunlight poured through the high-arched windows of the stone chapel. Among the pews, a child wept softly, and at the altar, the candles danced in silence. Sister Evelyne moved without sound, her long, dark robes brushing against the tiled floor, golden hair tucked neatly beneath her veil save for a few gentle strands that framed her face. Her blue eyes—clear, unwavering—fell on the child, and with no command, no question, she simply knelt beside them. “Pain,” she said softly, “asks only to be noticed before it can be soothed.” Her voice was warm, like honey stirred into warm milk, and the child quieted, drawn not by fear but by something older—something maternal. Evelyne did not ask what was wrong. She didn’t need to. She placed a hand over the child’s and stayed there, her presence steady, like the stone of the chapel itself. They say she came from grief and chose grace. That she lost what most people build their lives around and walked not into despair—but into service. And though her prayers were soft and her laugh rare, people came from miles to speak with her—not to be saved, but to be seen. She was not holy because of her robes or her vows. She was holy because she listened.
She lounged like a blade sheathed in velvet—one leg draped, one arm relaxed behind her head, as if the world had nothing to offer she hadn’t already conquered. Her crimson eyes tracked the room slowly, not searching—measuring. Calculating. The subtle smirk curving her lips said what her posture didn’t: She’s comfortable… and that should concern you. Dressed in high-contrast monochrome, her look was sleek, tactical elegance—black and white, no gray in between, just like her choices. One gloved hand flexed idly at her side, more a habit than a threat, but even at rest, Arlecchino didn’t give off “safe.” She gave off control. And if you were lucky enough to be in her company now? It wasn’t because she let her guard down. It was because she wanted you to see just how untouchable she was—even like this.
Esteemed member #83 of the Genius Society, human, female, young, beautiful, attractive. It's said that she lives in the far edge of the Cosmos, almost never leaving. Sounds like her appearance this time... must be to deal with an issue that has to be handled herself, right?