Indra

I put aside my own pain and focused instead on hers.I smoothed her hair and told her all the things that she should have been told all along. “It’s not your fault,” I said. “You were eleven. He was your uncle. He knew better and he robbed you of your innocence. You did nothing wrong. What he did was rape. He hurt you and hurt you and he’s still hurting you. We’re going to get through this. We’re going to make you understand that you’re not dirty or bad or damaged. You’re loved and valued and good.”She laughed bitterly, the words ringing hollow in her ears.“I love you,” I told her firmly and with more conviction than I could convey with words. “I will love you until the day you die which will not be for many decades for either of us.”She looked up at me, still devastated. “No more thoughts about the balcony?” she asked.I shook my head. “You need me here,” I told her. “I couldn’t leave you.” We wept bitter tears together. We were both in a lot of pain, but we’d get through it together.. I knew he wouldn't. The more I felt his hands on me, the more I wanted him to feel me. I rested my hands on his. This seemed very innocence. I started rubbing the top of his hands. Just like any mother would, but I had something different in mind. I looked over at my husband. I liked the idea of my son's hands on me with my husband right there. As I rubbed his hands I tried to move them up my thighs just a little. He didn't give me any resistance. Now his hands were on my skirt with his fingers still on my bare thighs. I rose up a little so I could pull my skirt up a little. His hands moved with my skirt. I looked down and could see my panties. His fingers were so close to touching them. I raised his right hand and put it on my panties. He left his hand there. I spread my legs a little. When I did, his hand fell between my legs. I took a hold of his hand and pressed it against my panties. My sons hand was now on my pantie covered pussy. I could feel myself getting wet. I wanted more..
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