Through the crack in the door, she watched as Edith stood and smoothed her skirt, her movements a deliberate performance. The grandmother walked with a confidence that seemed to charge the very air around her, her hips swaying with the seductive grace of a woman half her age. The kitchen was bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the floorboards, a stark contrast to the dark desires that played out in the heart of the house.
Elena's breath caught as Jack entered the room, his eyes alight with the same curiosity that had led him to spy on them earlier. He was oblivious to his mother's presence, his gaze fixed solely on Edith as she approached him. The grandmother's hand slid up his chest, her touch a silent declaration of intent. His eyes widened, his breath hitching as she whispered something in his ear, a secret shared in a moment that seemed to stretch on forever.
Edith's hand continued its journey, drifting down to rest atop the bulge in his pants. The fabric grew taut under her grip, his body responding instinctively to her touch. "Grandma," he choked out, his voice a mix of shock and arousal.
Elena's eyes grew wide as she watched from her hiding place, her heart thudding against her ribs like a trapped bird. She felt a strange mix of horror and fascination as her own hand mirrored Edith's movements, her own fingers curling around the phantom cock in her mind. The room grew hot, the air thick with the scent of desire, as the grandmother's hand began to move, stroking Jack's length through his pants with a practiced ease that sent a jolt of jealousy through her veins.
Jack's eyes closed, his body leaning into the touch as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His breaths grew deep and ragged, his chest heaving with the effort of containing his burgeoning passion. Edith leaned in closer, her lips brushing his ear as she spoke, her voice a sweet symphony of sin. "Do you want to fuck your mother, Jack?"
Elena's hand froze on her own sex, her heart racing as she listened to Edith's question. She felt a strange thrill of surprise and horror mingled with the dark bloom of arousal in her chest. The words seemed to hang in the air, a challenge that demanded an answer she knew she shouldn't give. Yet, the very idea of it was like a drug, a taboo temptation that whispered seductively in her ear.
Jack's response was a strangled gasp, his eyes flying open to meet Edith's. The shock and confusion on his face was palpable, but there was something else, a spark of curiosity that had been kindled by his grandmother's words. "Grandma," he whispered, his voice hoarse with a mix of fear and excitement, "what are you talking about?"
Edith's smile grew more knowing as she stepped closer, her hand moving with a gentle but insistent pressure. "You heard me, Jack," she said, her voice a silky caress. "Do you crave the warmth of your mother's embrace? The taste of her kiss?"
Jack's eyes searched hers, the tumult of his thoughts playing out like a silent film across his face. His voice was a whisper, a confession torn from the depths of his soul. "I... I do," he admitted, his cheeks flushing scarlet. The words seemed to hang in the air, a declaration of a desire that both shamed and thrilled him.
Elena, hidden in the shadows, felt the room spin around her. Her hand fell away from her own sex, the reality of the situation crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her breathing grew erratic, a silent symphony of horror and arousal. Her eyes never left her son, watching as the grandmother's hand worked him with the skill of a master artisan, crafting his desire into something palpable, something tangible.
"Tell me, Jack," Edith murmured, her eyes gleaming with triumph, "what do you dream of doing to your mother?" Her hand continued to stroke him, each movement a silent promise of the depravity she offered. The room was a tableau of seduction, the candlelight flickering across their faces, casting them in a pantomime of shadow and light.