Intimate Moments With My Alluring Stepmother

The second bullet – for two bullets had been fired by Serbian nationalist Gavrilo Princip, the first striking Franz Ferdinand at the joining of neck and chest – had punched through the thin sheet metal of the car door, through Sophie’s white dress, her tightly laced corset and chemise, and into her soft, vulnerable torso four centimeters above her right colon. Her soft, silken vagina was lovingly cleaned (some semen was found there, mute evidence that she and Franz Ferdinand had not departed this life without enjoying each other’s bodies one last time) and more soft, fluffy white cotton was carefully packed in the depths of her love passage. The world turned gray, then black, as Sophie, duchess of Hohenberg, crumpled to her left side and toppled into her husband’s lap, her face between his knees. Sophie was now on the side of the car closest to the sidewalk. An eyelid was opened; the pupil in the dark brown eye was dilated, unresponsive to light. Sophie was laid out in a spectacular white gown with short sleeves