At times if I tried to fuck aunty Helen’s pussy and put my sister’s head on it, I simply could not look into her eyes without the guilt. Soon, I d...d not even need aunty Helen’s head. I could visualize my Vero’s body with a silhouette on top of it. This was much better because now I was having my fantasy sex with my sister without involving aunty Helen. The face under the silhouette could be my sister but it did not matter at all. So much so that from then on, whenever my sister flashed a sexy. I know that there is doom and pain ahead, and still I inch my body toward his, aching for that poison. Aligning myself with him, tipping my head to look into his eyes, indeed his very soul, laying my hand on his chest, I know I’ve found home. I haven’t the right. I want to step back, to leave this man, this poet, for someone else to find, but I cannot. He is there, his heart beating steady against my hand, and I am not possessed of the power to let him go. I feel the tears, building at the. More

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