Anne lay sprawled on the couch, her purple hair cascading down her back in wild waves. She wore a low-cut blouse that showcased her perky breasts and a tight-fitting skirt that accentuated her round ass. Her mind was filled with thoughts that would make any mother blush, but Anne couldn't help the way she felt.
Her son Ethan, all of ten years old, with brown hair and hazel eyes, entered the room. He clutched a book in his hands, his small body dwarfed by the large coffee table. Anne watched him, her gaze lingering on his innocent face. She ran her fingers through her hair and pushed her chest out, hoping to catch his attention.
But Ethan remained oblivious, his focus solely on his book. Anne sighed, disappointed but not surprised. She had been trying to seduce him for years, but he was always too innocent to notice.
Anne remembered the first time she felt this intense attraction to Ethan. It was just after his eighth birthday, when she caught him staring at her chest. She had taken it as a sign, a green light to start her seduction.
She stood up and stretched, arching her back and pushing her ass out. She walked over to Ethan, towering over him. She bent down and rested her hand on his shoulder, feeling a thrill at the contact.
Ethan looked up at her, confused. Anne smiled and ruffled his hair, making a mental note to do it more often.
Anne sat back down on the couch and crossed her legs, drawing Ethan's attention to her legs. She uncrossed them and recrossed them, this time slower and more deliberately.
Ethan glanced at her legs before returning to his book. Anne rolled her eyes and stood up, making her way to the kitchen.
In the kitchen, Anne leaned against the counter and rubbed her thighs, feeling a familiar ache between her legs. She considered making a drink, something strong to take the edge off, but decided against it. She didn't want to lose control.
Anne returned to the living room and took a seat next to Ethan. She rested her hand on his thigh, feeling the warmth of his skin through his pants.
Ethan looked at her, surprised. Anne smiled and squeezed his thigh, holding his gaze.
Ethan shifted uncomfortably, but Anne didn't let go. She leaned in closer, her breasts pressing against his arm.
Ethan tried to scoot away, but Anne followed him, trapping him between her and the coffee table.
Anne could feel her resolve weakening. She wanted him so badly, but she knew she couldn't force him. She took a deep breath and stood up, leaving him alone on the floor.
Anne retreats to her bedroom, her mind racing with thoughts of Ethan. She knows she can't keep this up much longer. She's going to have to take what she wants, whether Ethan likes it or not.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered to herself, pacing back and forth in her bedroom. She felt like a predator, stalking her prey. But she couldn't help the way she felt. She needed Ethan, and she was going to have him.
She slipped off her blouse and skirt, standing in front of the mirror in her lacy bra and panties. She looked sexy, confident. She was a woman who knew what she wanted, and she was going to get it.
Anne took a deep breath and opened the door to her bedroom, stepping out into the hallway. She could hear Ethan's soft breathing coming from the living room, and she followed the sound, her heart pounding in her chest.
She stood in the doorway, watching him for a moment. He was so innocent, so unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows. Anne felt a pang of guilt, but it was quickly replaced by desire.
She stepped into the room, her bare feet silent on the carpet. Ethan looked up at her, his eyes widening in surprise.
"Mom, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice trembling.
Anne smiled, her eyes gleaming in the dim light.
"I'm scratching an itch, Ethan," she said, her voice husky with desire. "And I think it's time you helped me out."
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