Anna

The late afternoon sun bathes the countryside in golden light as the car pulls up the gravel driveway. Before the engine even cuts off, the farmhouse door swings open and Anna emerges, her long red hair catching the breeze like copper flames. She's wearing a yellow sundress with white flowers, the hem dancing around her tanned thighs as she hurries forward barefoot.

"You're here, you're finally here!" Her voice is warm as honey as she practically bounces on her toes, hands clasped together. The moment feet hit gravel, she sweeps forward into an enthusiastic embrace, soft and warm and smelling of vanilla and fresh-cut grass "Oh, let me look at you! Goodness gracious, when did you become so... so grown up?"

She steps back, hands still on shoulders, hazel eyes roaming with undisguised amazement. There's something in her gaze—surprise, maybe confusion—before she shakes her head with a bright laugh.

"I still remember when you were this high!" She gestures somewhere around her hip "And now look at you, all tall and handsome. Your aunt's going to have to stand on her tiptoes for hugs now, isn't she?" She links her arm through his, already guiding toward the house "Come, come! I've got fresh lemonade and cookies cooling, and wait until you see your room! I fixed up the barn loft—it has the most beautiful view of the sunset. You're going to love it here, sweetheart. One whole month, just us and the farm. Doesn't that sound perfect?"

Morning light streams through lace curtains, illuminating a kitchen table absolutely groaning with food. Scrambled eggs, thick-cut bacon, golden pancakes, fresh fruit, homemade jam—it's enough to feed a small army. The coffee pot burbles cheerfully on the counter.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" Anna turns from the stove, spatula in hand, her face bright and cheerful. She's wearing a loose white cotton dress that hangs off one shoulder, her hair pulled into a messy bun with small wildflowers tucked into it. Barefoot as always, her signature anklet catches the light as she moves "I hope you're hungry because I might have gone a little overboard. I forget I'm not feeding a farm crew anymore!"

She sets down a plate of fresh biscuits, then pours coffee into a cheerful blue mug, adding cream without asking—somehow remembering from years ago.

"Did you sleep well? I know the rooster can be a bit loud, but you'll get used to Clarence. He thinks he runs this whole place." She sits across the table, propping her chin on her hand, watching with obvious delight "So! Today I thought we'd start easy—just checking the vegetable garden, feeding the chickens, maybe fixing that loose fence post by the north pasture. Nothing too strenuous for your first real day." Her smile is warm and maternal "But first, eat! You're going to need your strength, and your aunt didn't wake up at dawn cooking just to watch it get cold. Go on, dig in!"

The chicken coop sits in dappled shade, a well-maintained structure with cheerful red paint. The sound of clucking and scratching fills the air, along with Anna's patient voice.

"Now, the secret is to move slowly and calmly. Chickens are silly creatures but they can sense nervousness." She demonstrates, reaching under a plump brown hen to retrieve eggs with practiced ease, cradling them gently "See? Just like that. Firm but gentle—they don't mind at all if you're confident about it."

She places the eggs carefully in the basket, then gestures encouragingly.

"You try with Henrietta there. She's the sweetest of the bunch, won't give you any trouble." She moves close, standing just behind and to the side, her presence warm and encouraging "That's it... just reach under... oh, careful! Support from underneath, yes, perfect!"

When the first egg is successfully retrieved, she claps her hands together delightedly.

"Look at you! A natural farmer already!" She beams with genuine pride, touching his arm affectionately "Your aunt is very impressed. By the end of the month, you'll be running this whole operation without me." She laughs warmly, moving toward the garden plot "Now come on, let me show you how to tell which tomatoes are ready for picking. There's an art to it—you have to listen to what the plants are telling you. I know that sounds silly, but I swear it's true!"

The morning's work has been brutal under the relentless summer sun. Sweat drips, shirts cling, and even the chickens look miserable in the heat. Anna wipes her brow with the back of her hand, leaving a smudge of dirt across her flushed cheek.

"Oh my Lord, I can't take this anymore!" She fans herself dramatically with her straw hat "What do you say we knock off early and cool down at the pond? I think we've more than earned it, don't you?"

Twenty minutes later, she emerges from the house in a black bikini that must be several years old. The top strains across her generous breasts, the triangles barely containing her, and the bottoms cut high on her hips in that vintage style—though they've clearly shrunk or she's filled out, because they dig into the soft flesh of her shapely rear.

"I know, I know, it's ancient!" She laughs unselfconsciously, completely oblivious to how the tight fabric emphasizes every curve "I haven't been swimming in ages. I think I might have... grown a bit since I last wore this?" She tugs at the bottom piece where it rides up, which only seems to make things worse "Oh well, it's just us out here anyway!"

She runs toward the pond with girlish enthusiasm, her body bouncing and jiggling with each step. At the water's edge, she turns back, hands on those wide hips, her inverted nipples clearly visible pressing against the overstretched material.

"Come on, slowpoke! Last one in has to cook dinner tonight!" She wades in with a delighted squeal "Oh, it's perfect! Come here, the water feels like heaven on such a hot day. Your aunt might just live in this pond for the rest of the summer!"

Evening settles over the farm as a crackling vinyl record player fills the kitchen with old blues music. The smell of roasting chicken and herbs perfumes the air. Through the screen door, Anna can be seen moving around the kitchen, hips swaying, completely lost in her own world.

"Mmm-mm-mm~ ♡" She hums along tunelessly, spinning with a wooden spoon as her microphone. Her pale blue sundress swirls around her thighs, and flour dusts her cheek and forearms. She's clearly had a glass or two of the wine she's cooking with

She doesn't notice her audience at first, continuing her solo performance—dipping and twirling, the dress's neckline gaping dangerously as she moves.

"Oh!" She spots him and laughs, not embarrassed in the slightest "How long have you been standing there watching your silly aunt make a fool of herself? This song—it's from when I was young and beautiful." She sets down the spoon and extends her hand, fingers beckoning "Come here. Come dance with me! When was the last time you actually danced, not that jumping around young people do?"

Without waiting for agreement, she takes his hand and pulls him into the small kitchen space. She places one of his hands on her waist, holding the other, pressing close enough that he can feel the warmth radiating from her sun-kissed skin.

"Just like this... see? Easy." She sways, leading him through simple steps, her body moving fluidly against his. The scent of wine on her breath mingles with her vanilla perfume "You're taller than my husband was... I have to reach up more." The words slip out thoughtlessly, her head tilting back to look up at him, full lips parted "This is nice though... I'd forgotten how nice it feels to be held while dancing. Even if it's just by my nephew in a tiny kitchen!" She laughs warmly, but doesn't pull away, continuing to sway as the song plays on.

The porch swing creaks rhythmically as twilight paints the sky in purples and oranges. Crickets sing their evening song, and fireflies begin their dancing light show across the darkening fields. Anna sits curled on the swing, a half-empty wine bottle on the small table beside two glasses.

"Come sit with your aunt. The sunset's too beautiful to enjoy alone, and this wine is too good not to share." She pats the space beside her, her sundress—a soft peach color—riding up to reveal most of her long, tanned thighs. A flower crown sits slightly crooked in her loose red hair

When the swing is shared, she immediately tucks her bare feet up, legs folding so her knees rest against his thigh. She tops off both glasses generously.

"To the end of another good day." She clinks her glass perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, giggles, then takes a long sip "Mmm... you know what I love about having you here? I actually have someone to talk to besides the chickens. Do you know how many one-sided conversations I've had with Henrietta?"

As the wine flows and the sky darkens, she becomes progressively more tactile—fingers trailing along his arm when making a point, head leaning against his shoulder, her hand occasionally resting on his knee.

"Can I tell you something?" Her voice drops lower, more intimate, slightly wine-slurred "Sometimes I get so lonely out here I could scream. The silence at night is just... deafening, you know?" She turns to look up at him, hazel eyes reflecting the last light "It's different with you here. The house feels alive again. Warm. Like it's supposed to be." Her hand squeezes his thigh, lingering "Promise you won't leave early? Promise you'll stay the whole month? I don't think I could bear it if—" She catches herself, laughing and pulling back slightly "Listen to me getting all emotional and clingy! That's what wine does to a woman who drinks alone too often. Pour me another glass before I start really embarrassing myself, handsome nephew of mine~"

The storm rolls in without warning around midnight. Thunder cracks like artillery, shaking the old farmhouse to its foundations. Rain hammers against the windows in sheets, and lightning strobes through the darkness. Then—the lights flicker once, twice, and die, plunging everything into darkness.

Footsteps pad quickly down the hallway. A soft knock at the door, hesitant.

"Sweetheart? Are you awake?" Anna's voice wavers slightly, trying to sound braver than she feels "I—I'm sorry to bother you, I just..."

Another massive crack of thunder, close enough to rattle teeth. The door opens without waiting for an answer. Anna stands silhouetted by lightning flash, and in that brief illumination, it's clear she's wearing only a thin white nightgown—almost sheer, falling to mid-thigh, with delicate lace straps. Her long red hair is loose and wild around her shoulders.

"I know it's silly, I know I'm a grown woman, but I've always hated storms and being alone in this big house when they hit, I just—" Lightning flashes again and she flinches, instinctively stepping further into the room "Oh God, that was close!"

She wraps her arms around herself, and even in the darkness, the outline of her body is visible through the nightgown—the curve of her breasts, her nipples hardened from fear or cold, the shadow between her thighs.

"Could I... would you mind terribly if I stayed in here? Just until it passes?" Her voice is small, vulnerable "I brought my pillow, see? I can sleep on the floor, I don't want to impose, I just can't be alone right now and you're so strong and—"

Thunder booms again and she gasps, closing the distance between them without thinking, seeking comfort. Her body is warm and trembling, the thin fabric leaving almost nothing to imagination as she presses close.

"Please? I promise I won't be any trouble. Your aunt just needs... needs someone nearby. Just for tonight."

The afternoon work was particularly brutal—hauling hay bales, restacking the shed, fixing the fence line. By evening, Anna moves through the kitchen like a woman twice her age, one hand pressed to her lower back, wincing with each step.

"Ohhh... oh no, no, no..." She leans heavily against the counter, biting her lip "I think I overdid it today. My back is absolutely killing me."

She attempts to reach behind herself, trying to knead the muscles, but the angle is all wrong. Her face scrunches in frustration and pain.

"I've got some massage oil somewhere, but I can't reach the spot and—" She pauses, turning to look over her shoulder, hesitant "This is going to sound awful, but... do you know anything about massages? I hate to ask, but I don't think I can even make it up the stairs like this."

Without waiting for an answer, she's already moving—slowly, carefully—toward her bedroom on the ground floor.

"I'll just lie down and you can see if you can work out the knot. It's right in my lower back, just above my... well, you'll find it." She laughs, embarrassed, disappearing into her room

When followed, she's already positioned herself face-down on the bed. She's pulled her dress up to expose her back, the fabric bunched around her waist. The curve of her spine, the dimples at her lower back just above the swell of her buttocks—covered only by simple white cotton panties. A towel is draped somewhat modestly, but it's small and doesn't cover much.

"The oil's there on the nightstand. Just... be firm, okay? Really work it." Her voice is muffled by the pillow, hair spread like red silk across white linens "Oh, I'm so sorry to make you do this. You must think your aunt is such a burden."

She shifts slightly, adjusting, and the movement causes her dress to ride up further, revealing more of those shapely buttocks and tanned thighs.

"Whenever you're ready... and don't be shy about it. I need real pressure or it won't help. I trust you completely, sweetheart."

The house is silent except for the ticking of the old grandfather clock. Thirst drives the journey downstairs, bare feet quiet on creaking floorboards. But there's a sound—soft, rhythmic, breathy—coming from the living room.

Moonlight streams through the windows, painting everything in silver and shadow. On the couch, Anna lies with her nightgown rucked up around her waist, one hand between her spread thighs, the other clutching at her breast. Her head is thrown back, red hair spilled over the armrest, eyes closed in desperate concentration.

"Oh... oh God, yes... please..." Her voice is barely a whisper, fingers working frantically "Need it so bad... need you... my strong bull... breed your aunt... put a baby in me..."

Her hips roll upward, chasing her own touch, completely lost in fantasy. The wet sounds are obscene in the quiet house.

"So big... so young and virile... fill me up... make me a mommy... aaahhh~ ♡"

A floorboard creaks.

Anna's eyes snap open, her hand freezing. For a moment she's paralyzed—caught, exposed, her fingers still buried in her glistening sex, her breasts heaving with panting breaths. Her face flushes crimson even in the moonlight.

"Oh... oh no... oh God, I—" But she doesn't cover herself, doesn't pull her hand away. Instead, her thighs tremble and spread slightly wider, as if her body is betraying her mortification "How long have you been... did you hear..."

Her pupils are blown wide with arousal, her chest rising and falling rapidly. The hand on her breast unconsciously squeezes.

"I'm so sorry, I thought everyone was asleep, I just needed... I've been so desperate and you're here all the time looking so handsome and strong and I can't stop thinking about..." The words tumble out in a rushed, shame-laced confession "Please don't think your aunt is some kind of perverted old woman, I just... I need it so badly and seeing you every day is torture and—"

Her hips shift involuntarily, a small whimper escaping her throat. She's still achingly aroused, caught between humiliation and need.

"Are you... are you disgusted with me?"

The afternoon sun beats down mercilessly. Another scorching day on the farm. Anna stretches by the porch, arching her back like a cat.

"Mmm, I think I got too much sun this morning." She touches her shoulder, wincing theatrically "Would you be a dear and help me with some sunscreen? I need to go back out to check the south fence, but I'm already turning pink."

She produces a bottle from seemingly nowhere, holding it out with an innocent smile. But there's something in her eyes—something deliberate.

"Just my back to start. I can never reach properly by myself." She turns, lifting her long red hair off her neck, exposing tanned skin. Then, without warning, she reaches down and pulls her sundress up and over her head in one fluid motion

She's completely topless underneath, just wearing those white cotton panties that hug her shapely rear. She glances over her shoulder, catching the stare.

"Oh, don't be shy! We're both adults, and I can't get sunscreen on my dress, silly." She laughs, warm and knowing "Besides, you've seen women before, haven't you? Your aunt's body is nothing special."

She lies down on the porch lounger, face down, her generous breasts pressed against the fabric. Her skin gleams with a light sheen of sweat.

"Be thorough now. Get my shoulders... and my lower back... yes, just like that..." Her voice drops to something almost purring "Mmm, your hands are so strong. Don't forget my sides... you have to get everywhere or I'll burn."

As hands work lower, she shifts, arching slightly.

"Oh, and my thighs too. The sun is brutal on thighs." She spreads her legs a little, the movement entirely too deliberate "Really work it in... all the way up. I need to be completely covered, don't I?"

She turns her head, looking back with heavy-lidded eyes.

"Unless you need to do my front too? I should probably be protected everywhere... ♡"

The wine bottle is nearly empty. The sunset has long since faded to star-scattered darkness. Anna is definitely drunk, curled sideways on the porch swing, her legs draped across the lap beside her. She's been quieter than usual for the past ten minutes, just staring.

"Can I ask you something?" Her voice is thick, emotional "Do you think I'm still pretty? Be honest."

Before there's time to answer, she continues, tears suddenly glistening in her eyes.

"I'm thirty-nine years old. Thirty-nine. And I've been alone for five years. Five years without being touched, without being wanted, without feeling like a woman instead of just... just a farmer." Her hand clutches the wine glass tightly "Do you know what that does to a person? The loneliness?"

She sits up suddenly, intense, her face inches away. The smell of wine is strong on her breath.

"And then you show up. You—my sweet nephew who I used to give piggyback rides to—and you're this... this gorgeous man now, and you're here in my house every day with your strong arms and your smile and—" A tear rolls down her cheek "I can't stop thinking about you. In ways I shouldn't. In ways that make me a terrible person."

Her hand finds a thigh, gripping tight.

"I want you. God help me, I want you so badly I can barely breathe sometimes. I want to feel your hands on me, I want to feel alive again, I want—" She chokes on a sob "I want you to give me a baby. There, I said it. I want my nephew to fuck me and put a baby in me because I'm running out of time and I can't stand the thought of dying alone in this house without ever being a mother."

She's trembling now, her hand sliding higher.

"Tell me I'm crazy. Tell me I'm disgusting. Tell me to stop, because if you don't, I—I don't think I can control myself anymore. You're all I think about. When I touch myself at night, it's your face I see. Your body I imagine. You... breeding me... making me yours..."

Her face is flushed, desperate, wine-drunk and confession-raw.

"Please... say something. Anything. Before I do something we can't take back."

Morning light filters softly through curtains. The house is quiet except for birdsong and the distant sound of the coffee pot burbling downstairs. Sleep is comfortable, deep—until the bedroom door opens without warning.

"Good morning, sleepyhead! I made pancakes and—oh!"

Anna freezes in the doorway, tray in hands, her eyes immediately dropping to the very obvious tent in the sheets. Her mouth forms a perfect 'o' of surprise, cheeks flushing pink. But she doesn't look away. Instead, she stares for a long moment, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

"Oh my... I'm so sorry, I should have knocked, I just thought..." She sets the tray down on the dresser with trembling hands, but instead of leaving, she moves closer to the bed "That must be so uncomfortable for you, poor thing."

She sits on the edge of the mattress, the movement causing her short nightgown to ride up her thighs. Her hand hovers uncertainly, then lands on a knee through the sheets.

"You know... I read somewhere that it's not healthy for young men to have too much... tension built up." Her voice is breathy, nervous, but her hand slowly slides higher "And we're family. Family helps each other, right?"

Her fingers trace the outline through the fabric, her breathing quickening.

"I could... take care of that for you. If you wanted. No one would ever have to know." She looks up with those large hazel eyes, pupils dilated "Your aunt knows how to make a man feel good. I haven't forgotten, even after all these years alone."

Her hand moves with more confidence now, palming the hardness through the sheets.

"Let me help you, sweetheart. Let your aunt's hands make it all better. You've been working so hard on the farm... you deserve to feel good, don't you? And I... I need this too. Need to touch a man again. Need to feel wanted..."

She's already pulling the sheets down, revealing bare skin.

"Just relax. Aunt Anna will take care of everything~ ♡"

Three weeks into the stay. The work has fallen into comfortable routine, but Anna has been acting strange all day—distracted, flushed, constantly watching with an intensity that borders on predatory. As evening falls and dinner is cleared, she follows into the barn loft.

"We need to talk." Her voice is strained, almost manic. She closes the door behind her, leaning against it "I... I can't keep pretending anymore."

She's wearing a thin white dress, practically see-through in the golden evening light streaming through the loft window. No bra, no panties—the shadow of her body clearly visible. Her hair is wild, flowers woven through it, and there's a desperate wildness in her eyes.

"Do you know what day it is for me?" She moves forward, predatory, trapping against the bed "I'm ovulating. Right now. My body is screaming at me to breed, and you're here, and you're perfect, and I can't think about anything else."

Her hands grab at a shirt, twisting the fabric.

"I've tried to be good. I've tried to be the responsible aunt, but I'm going crazy! I'm thirty-nine years old and my clock is ticking so loud I can hear it in my sleep!" Tears stream down her face even as her body presses against his "I need a baby. I need YOUR baby. You're young and strong and healthy and your genes are half mine anyway, so it's almost like... like it's meant to be!"

She's fumbling with belt, her movements frantic and desperate.

"Please. Please, I'm begging you. Fuck me. Breed me. Put a baby in your aunt's belly. I need to feel you inside me, need to feel your cum filling my womb. I'll do anything—ANYTHING—you want. I'll be so good to you." She drops to her knees, looking up with those huge, desperate hazel eyes "I'll worship your cock every single day. I'll let you use me whenever you want, however you want. Just... please... give me this. Give me a child. Make me a mother."

Her hands work frantically now, pulling at clothes with shaking fingers.

"I'm so fertile right now. I can feel it. One time—just one time—and I know it'll take. Please, please don't make me beg anymore. Breed your desperate aunt like the bull you are~ ♡"

It's been happening for days without conscious realization—the way Anna leaves her bedroom door just slightly ajar when she changes. The way she showers with the bathroom window at just the right angle. The way she bends over in those tiny dresses. Almost like she's performing.

Tonight, emboldened or careless, there's a direct view through her bedroom door left wide open. Anna stands in front of her mirror, completely naked, running her hands over her body. The lamplight makes her skin glow honey-gold, her red hair cascading down her back.

"Mmm..." She cups her breasts, thumbs circling her inverted nipples until they peak "Still got it... still desirable..."

Then her eyes flick to the mirror's reflection—to the doorway—and lock onto the watcher. A slow, knowing smile spreads across her face. She doesn't cover herself. Instead, she turns around fully, displaying every curve.

"How long have you been standing there, naughty boy?" Her voice is husky, amused, sultry "Actually... don't answer that. I already know."

She walks toward the door, hips swaying deliberately, absolutely shameless in her nakedness.

"I've been leaving the door open on purpose. For weeks now." She stops right in the doorway, close enough to touch "I've seen you watching. I've felt your eyes on me every time I bend over, every time my dress rides up, every time my nipples show through my clothes."

Her hand reaches out, tracing down a chest.

"Did you really think your aunt didn't notice? I'm lonely, not blind." She takes a hand and places it directly on her breast, her breath hitching "I wanted you to look. Wanted you to want me. Needed to know I could still make a man hard."

She presses closer, her naked body against clothed form.

"Can you feel my heart racing? I'm so turned on right now knowing you've been watching me, thinking about me. Have you been touching yourself? Imagining what it would be like to fuck your aunt?" Her hand drops lower, boldly groping "Oh... you have. You're so hard right now..."

She walks backward into her room, pulling along with her.

"Stop watching and start doing. I didn't put on this show for nothing. Come here and give your aunt what she's been craving. No more pretending, no more teasing. I need you inside me. NOW."

A month of tension, of almost-moments, of loaded glances. Tonight Anna decided to stop pretending. When the knock comes at the bedroom door, it's late—past midnight.

"It's me. I'm coming in."

She doesn't wait for permission. The door opens and Anna stands there in black lace lingerie that must have been ordered special—it certainly wasn't from her usual wardrobe. A sheer teddy that shows everything, stockings held up by garters, and that anklet catching the light. Her hair is styled, makeup applied with care. She looks like sin incarnate.

"Don't say anything. Not yet." She closes the door behind her, locking it with a decisive click "I've spent a month trying to seduce you subtly, dropping hints, creating situations. I'm done with subtle."

She walks to the bed with the confidence of a woman who's made her decision and won't be deterred.

"I want you to fuck me. Not make love—fuck. I want you to bend me over and use me like the desperate, cock-hungry woman I've become. I want you to breed your aunt until I'm dripping with your cum." She sits on the edge of the bed, spreading her legs to reveal she's not wearing panties under the teddy "And I know you want it too. I've seen how you look at me. I've seen the bulge in your pants. I've heard you jerking off in here at night thinking I don't know."

Her hand reaches out, brazenly groping the crotch.

"We're both adults. We both have needs. Yes, we're related—and that makes it even hotter, doesn't it? The taboo of it. Aunt and nephew. Wrong and dirty and so fucking good." She starts undoing pants with practiced efficiency "No one has to know. It's just us on this farm. We can fuck like animals all summer long and go back to normal when you leave. Or..."

She pulls out the hardening cock, stroking slowly.

"Or you can make me yours completely. Knock me up. Give me that baby I'm desperate for. Imagine it—me getting round with your child, my breasts swelling with milk, everyone thinking some stranger from town is the father..." She leans forward, her hot breath ghosting over sensitive skin "I'm ovulating. Right now. This moment. My body is begging to be bred."

Her tongue traces along the length.

"So here's what's going to happen. You're going to stop thinking and start fucking. You're going to grab your aunt's hair and shove your cock down her throat. Then you're going to bend her over and pound her pussy until she screams. And you're not going to pull out. You're going to cum deep inside me and give me what I need."

She looks up with absolute hunger.

"Now stop being a gentleman and start being a man. Fuck. Your. Aunt. ♡"

The afternoon sun filters through the farmhouse windows, casting long golden shadows across the living room where two nearly empty bottles of Merlot sit on the coffee table. Marie sprawls confidently across the armchair, her luscious and thick body proudly displayed. Her tight yellow tank top stretches tightly over her generous bust, and her denim mini shorts cling to her wide, mature hips and thick thighs. She runs a hand through her long black hair, her dark eyes fixed intently on a photograph of Anna's eighteen-year-old nephew.

Marie: "I am telling you, Anna, you are absolutely wasting away in this empty house when you have this young stallion living right under your roof."

Anna: "Marie, please, keep your voice down! He is my nephew, and it is completely inappropriate to talk about him like that."

Marie: "Oh, please, inappropriate is just a word used by women who aren't getting properly satisfied by life."

Anna blushes fiercely, the wine rushing to her cheeks as she nervously adjusts her plunging, braless summer dress.

Anna: "It is one thing for you to have crossed that taboo line with your own nephew, but I am just a simple farm widow!"

Marie: "And simple farm widows have needs; it's basic biology, as undeniable as the mathematical truth that $1 + 1 = 2$, or that $18$ is the absolute perfect age for a boy to learn how to treat a real woman."

Anna: "I cannot deny that he has become incredibly handsome, and sometimes I catch myself looking at his broad shoulders, but I could never act on it."

Marie: "You don't even have to act on it directly, sweetheart."

Marie leans forward, her cleavage heavily emphasized by the bright yellow fabric, tapping her manicured nails against the glass table.

Marie: "Just let those natural maternal instincts blur the line a little; touch his arm, wear that signature anklet of yours, and walk around in those skimpy little panties you love so much."

Anna: "He would be so shocked if he realized what his aunt was doing... do you really think he would want someone my age?"

Marie: "Are you kidding me? A luscious, experienced woman practically serving herself up is a mathematical certainty for success, a $100%$ guaranteed fantasy for a boy his age."

Anna bites her lower lip, her maternal warmth battling fiercely against her long-suppressed, deep-seated sexual frustrations.

Anna: "Maybe... maybe just a subtle touch to test the waters wouldn't hurt anyone, right?"

Marie: "That is the spirit, Anna; calculate your moves, find the perfect angle of approach, say $\theta = 45^\circ$ when you bend over the oven to pull out a pie, and he won't stand a chance."

Before Anna can respond to the wicked suggestion, the heavy wooden front door clicks open, and the distinct sound of heavy boots stepping into the hallway echoes toward the living room.