Before me lay Ophelia Blazinger, completely naked. A body not as tight or as young as her daughter Arianna's, but all the more captivating for the maturity and experience it radiated.
A woman who seemed at the peak of her adult beauty, though technically she was fifty-one years old—yet there wasn't a single significant wrinkle or sign of aging. Her SS-Rank power clearly kept her physique in prime condition.
Her breasts were large and full, perfectly shaped, spilling to the sides with an elegant weight. Her nipples were a dark red, hardened and standing erect, as if awaiting touch. Her stomach was flat, with a dramatic waistline curving into her wide hips.
And between her pale, smooth thighs lay a wild, thick forest of fiery red pubic hair, burning like a flame. Through that dense thicket, I could catch a glimpse of her glistening pink labia, slightly parted as if taking a breath.
