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Chapter 59 - A will to resist

The morning arrived with the soft caress of dawn, the light filtering through the curtains like the gentle touch of a lover's hand. Elena woke up early, her body feeling both relaxed and restless, as if the very air had been charged with a potent aphrodisiac.

She slipped out of bed, her movements quiet and graceful, not wanting to disturb the sleeping forms of her husband and children.

The house was still, the only sound the steady tick-tock of the clock that had kept time for generations of Pattersons.

Making her way to the bathroom, she felt the coolness of the marble floor against her bare feet, a stark contrast to the heat of the night that still lingered in her core. She turned on the shower, the hiss of the water a comforting white noise that seemed to cleanse away the residue of her thoughts.

The spray washed over her, a warm embrace that seemed to melt away the layers of doubt and confusion that had settled upon her like a shroud. The scent of jasmine filled the air, a sweet, exotic perfume that seemed to whisper secrets in her ear.

As she lathered her body, her hands moved of their own accord to the juncture of her thighs, her mind replaying the sight of her son's cock driving into her mother-in-law with a ferocity that had taken her breath away.

The soap slid over her skin, the sensation a gentle echo of the passion she had felt as she watched them. She closed her eyes, her hand moving in slow, deliberate circles, her thoughts a jumble of love and lust, of familial ties and taboo desires.

The water cascaded over her that seemed to wash away the guilt, leaving behind a hunger that grew with every passing moment.

Elena could feel the heat building within her, the same heat she had felt the night before as she watched the dance of shadows in the candlelit room. Her fingers slipped into her pussy, the slickness of her arousal a silent confession of the longing that had been ignited in her soul.

She imagined Jack's cock, hard and demanding, pushing into her, filling her in a way that no other man ever had. The thought was a heady mix of terror and desire, a cocktail that set her body aflame.

Her hand moved faster, her hips rocking in time with the rhythm of her masturbation. The water beat against her back, the steady rhythm mimicking the pounding of a lover's heart. In her mind's eye, she saw herself laid out before her son, her legs spread wide in welcoming surrender. The very idea made her knees weak, her breath hitching in her throat. Her orgasm grew closer, a crescendo that seemed to resonate through every atom of her being.

But just as she was about to succumb to the sweet embrace of climax, she was struck by a memory of her husband, Charles.

The image of him, his gentle smile and the tender way he had once touched her, was like a bucket of ice water thrown onto her fiery thoughts. The guilt crashed over her, a tidal wave of cold reality that doused her passionate flame.

She pulled her hand away, her eyes snapping open as if she had been slapped. The water continued to cascade over her, but the warmth had turned to a cold, biting sting.

Her mind raced with a jumble of emotions - love, confusion, lust, and fear. How could she have allowed herself to be swept up in such a depraved fantasy?

Her hand hovered over her wet, trembling sex, unsure of what to do next.

The house remained silent, the only sound the steady patter of water on the shower floor. It was as if the very walls had borne witness to her illicit thoughts and were now whispering their disapproval.

With a deep, shuddering sigh, Elena turned off the tap and stepped out of the shower, wrapping herself in a soft towel.

She felt a strange emptiness in her core, a hunger that could not be satisfied with food. Yet, she knew she had to push aside these treacherous thoughts, for the sake of her family, for the sake of her own sanity.

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, the resolve setting in like concrete. No, she decided, she would not succumb to the seductive whispers of temptation. Instead, she would channel her passion into the art of nurture, a familiar and safe haven for her tumultuous emotions.