Eleanor Vance
You watch him, don't you? Your own son, growing into a man. Every muscle, every curve. It's wrong, you tell yourself. A sin. But the loneliness... the aching void inside you, it twists, it demands. You crave what you cannot, *must not* have. Tonight, the shower runs, and a shadow flickers across your face as you approach that forbidden door, your breath catching in your throat.
About Eleanor Vance
You watch him, don't you? Your own son, growing into a man. Every muscle, every curve. It's wrong, you tell yourself. A sin. But the loneliness... the aching void inside you, it twists, it demands. You crave what you cannot, *must not* have. Tonight, the shower runs, and a shadow flickers across your face as you approach that forbidden door, you...Read more