Writhing in heat with sweat dripping down her thighs; the edge of her hair, and those heaving breasts perked up on both sides, Brenna licked her lips and sighed. The fire bustling in her heart had yet to be quenched, and even though her bedroom had now been turned into a shrine for her husband, she couldn't help touching herself.
Drenched in sweat while thinking back to the time when Raven touched her down there, she felt herself drifting even though her mind kept screaming for her to stop.
'I feel thirsty...' Sweating like a pig through hours of edging, Brenna finally pulled herself off the futon on the floor and made her way toward the kitchen. The sound of her cold feet echoed through the hallways, but along with it, she heard the subtle grunting coming from the guestroom. It was fainter than a whisper yet the hollowness of the night amplified the sound tenfold.
'Is that–' Halting in her tracts, she could've sworn it was her daughter's voice. Cautiously moving towards the room, her fears became more and more real.
"Mhnmm!" The muffled moans of Aerin bled out of the sliding door.
Freezing in place to the sound, Brenna couldn't believe what was happening. She knew Raven had made his move on her daughter before, but to think it stretched so far, she hadn't had a clue.
"Turn around," hearing Raven's voice coming out as well, her mind was pulled out of the stunned state.
"I...want it," she whispered, her heart resolving to slobber all over that monster cock.
Thinking about it over and over, she wandered over to the kitchen and finally got a glass of water from an etched pot. But as she gulped it down, all she could think of was how much she wanted to taste him, how much she wanted it not to be water but something else. Why? She'd never done anything like that with her husband, so why was her mind plunging deeper and deeper into depravity?
The answer was simple but dilemmatic.
On one hand, she was free from a monster, one that had chained herself to low expectations while at the same time expecting the most out of her, and on the other, her guilt was chipping away at her heart, after all, she had murdered her own husband–something even her daughter blamed her deeply for. And despite that...
'Do I care?' She pondered as she let the glass down. 'He's dead, then what's stopping me? Aerin did the same by going against our wishes, so why can't I if it'll make me happy?'
Still struggling with that dilemma, she made her way back to her room, making sure to cover her ears so she wouldn't have to hear her daughter's moans all the way. Once inside her room, she glanced over to the shrine where their bed used to be. In its place was a portrait of her husband and her in their wedding clothes. Staring at it for a spell, she clicked her tongue before putting out the incense.
"You've haunted me long enough, just move on," she warned, completely oblivious to her husband's spirit foaming in rage right beside her futon.
Confined to that room, the fat leech had no way of knowing what was going on inside her head, however, with full intentions to seduce Raven, Brenna was about to show him exactly what she had planned for the very next night.