Deborah made a show of making her son's sandwich. She took her time getting all of the supplies she needed; often forgetting something up high or down low so that she had to go back again to bend/stretch for it. Every time she would turn back around, she would catch Jason looking; he always had his eyes at her t**s or ass. Well, almost always. A few times, Deborah turned around to find her son's steely gaze burning as he stared right into her soul, his face a mask of barely controlled animal hunger. Those looks sent her heart fluttering and she felt as if she were his prey. She shifted her legs as she plated his afternoon snack and pushed it across the table to him, leaning forward on her elbows so that her breasts were pushed together and on display underneath the fabric of her conservati
