My husband has passed away, so hold me now, the obscene juice seeping out from under his mourning clothes
The lust that a chaste widow hides under her mourning clothes... Widows spend nights alone in agony, their flames as women still unquenchable even when they are faced with the image of their deceased husbands. They hated it and refused, but their sensitive ripe bodies connected as one with no way of calming down. "Please forgive me for being like this..."
