He came back with a pile of books called, among others, 'The Incest Survivor's Handbook.'I so hate that term 'survivor.' I mean, what is a non-survivo...r? Someone who commits suicide I suppose. But then, somebody that depressed must have more than one reason to do themselves harm, must they? It never entered my mind to do that to myself. Where there's life there's hope and for me there was Justin too. He's been my rock and continues to be so.Angela has his love and his body. I can see it, feel it. Like a brick wall.One day I was a normal kid, a decent second-baseman in the school softball games, no problem bigger than sweating out whether I’d get a C- or a D+ in penmanship from Sister Mary Margaret. Sister Margaret had taught penmanship, and nothing but penmanship, for it seemed like a hundred years. Anyway, she’d taught my sister, who was six years older than me, and she looked old enough to have taught my mom and dad, too.Nothing I could do for Sister Margaret was as good. I couldn’t get enough of them. I sucked her hard nipple while pressing the other boob with my hand. Her moans were getting louder and I could tell that she loved it.I moved lower and kept kissing her all around her belly-button. Now, I was just few inches above her pussy. So, just when unbuttoned her capri and tried to pull it down she said ‘Wait.’‘Please stop’ she said while breathing heavily. ‘This is so wrong. It shouldn’t happen.’But I was not going to give up after getting so close. So, I. She wanted this to go on and on until she went crazy. ‘Please!’ she cried, arching her back, thrusting her hips to meet his downward movement. Pounding, he rammed his thick rod in and out of her body, his hips above hers, her legs spread wide to expose her wet opening. Each thrust slammed her core, each release made a sucking, slurping sound, adding to the primal urges. Unable to hold back, he plunged deep and exploded, continuing to thrust, ejaculating with every stroke. Hot semen blasted her.