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His mournful laments caused her to hold him to her bosom to comfort him.

Though 18 and a man in years, his sorrow caused him to do the one thing that always eased his distress.

She never remarried nor took another man to her bed. However, they soon realized that her devotion to her son was total, allowing room for no other man. Anna, desperate to console her despondent son, let him sleep with her when he was distressed. At some point, he began having nocturnal emissions.

Over time, he stopped going to his room and slept nightly with her. Annabelle was progressive for a woman of the Victorian era.

She smiled as she recalled the first time he entered her.

Her gown had ridden up around her waist from his dry humping.

Mother and son never made a conscious decision to take their relationship to the next level.

He resisted the urge to adjust his rigid cock until he was well down the beach.

She was surprised that this act of motherly love aroused sexual feelings in her.

As he reached his majority and began taking a more active part in running his father's export import business, he still suckled for comfort and security.

As was the custom in those times, she had breastfed him until he started school. Sighing with resignation, she lifted her teat to his mouth.

Hungrily, he took it in his mouth with one hand caressing it. During the day while he was at school she struggled with the import of this.

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They appeared lifeless, their macabre motion caused by the breaking of the waves. They continued to be an embarrassment when she reached the age of her majority and entertained suitors. Those repulsed by her breasts but lured by her father's wealth. "We must get Anna to the shelter of yonder trees," Barton croaked, "she needs to be out of this brutal sun." Barton scanned the sky.