Author's note:
This is, in all its seven parts and their many chapters, one very,
very
long story. If long stories bother you, I suggest you read something else.
No part of this story is written so as to stand on its own. I strongly suggest that you start with
the beginning of Part 1
and read sequentiallyâgiving up at any point you choose, of course.
All sexual activity portrayed anywhere in this story involves only people at least eighteen years old.
This entire story is posted only on literotica.com. Any other public posting without my permission in writing is a violation of my copyright.
Somehow, that night, I managed to go all the way to the Thursday morning alarm without waking up for a run to the bathroom. Sam actually got up first, in fact. But at that point, I had to hurry downstairs.
When I got back to our room, Sam took charge herself. She knew, by that time, that if I objected to what she was doing I would say so clearly. If I took charge, I really had to pay attention, because I couldn't always trust her to do that. We kept things quick, but she got her satisfaction.
When we went out to run, we ran at our normal paces, so I ran farther than she did. I made the same loop we had been, then started it over. Since I didn't run anywhere near twice as fast as she did, I waited until she had passed me returning on the other side, ran a bit farther, then crossed and followed her back. I caught up with her before she was across from the house, and slowed down to finish up together. Before we went in the door, outside where it was still cooler and there was a breeze, she turned and kissed meâstill not in any close contact besides our lips, and her hands on the sides of my face.
We went in and shaved and showeredâyes with a quickie, once time and the water had cooled us off enoughâand dressed. We kissed for a minute or two before we left the bathroom. She told me quietly, "Phil, I love you. I'm going to miss you, but I'll also miss the sex. I really do hope and plan not to just go looking for someone because I'm horny. But I also really do expect you to remember that Ellen was your partner just as much as I wasâas I am!âin the end."
"It depends on Ellen, too," I reminded her. "After what she saw, she's been, um, skittish, and she may decide to avoid me. And if she does, I won't push her, and that's flat! Much as I love herâor I should say, I love her too much to do that. I know that she still loves me, enough that if she wants to avoid me I could still overwhelm her."
Sam insisted on that quickie. She pointed out to me that in our usual position, her feet weren't even on the floor, and mine didn't really need to be up to the edge of the tub. I wound up with my hips thrust farther forward than usual, which felt a little awkward and a little out of balance to me, but we didn't fall over or even come near it. Sam could be very determined, and in this case she was proved right.
We took our gym clothes upstairs, hanging them to air, and came back down to get breakfast. We were both reading from textbooks for classes we expected to be taking. We occasionally discussed bits we found interesting.
Uncle John and Aunt Sally came down to breakfast, too. We just chatted for a bit, and Uncle John raised the question of jobs available to history majors and especially newly-minted history PhDs. It was plain enough that Professor Wheeler was right, that I needed to have a goal. I still thought teaching was likely, but that needed to be tested to see whether I could do it. There were many jobs in the area of politics, which I wanted to avoid at all costs.
We discussed writing. "I haven't read anything you've written, but from hearing you speak at length I'm perfectly sure you can do that well. If you do go for the doctorate, you would want to be writing for academic historiansâpapers for journals, that sort of thing. The popular market is another kind of thing entirely." He said that, especially those days, it was a tough market, and either a serious reputation or contacts within the publishing world were probably necessary, however good my writing might be. He smiled and said, "I would guess that you will have to learn to edit yourself, to cut out what's only somewhat relevant, however important and interesting it seems to you, and trim down to the essentials."
We talked for almost an hour. I pulled up some of my more recent history papers, and we went up to his office and transferred them to his computer. Everything he said was very helpful.
Then he offered to call someone he knew who owned a car dealership. He asked me a few questions about what I was looking for, and once again I had to admit that I lacked enough experience to pin that down. He made the call. "You can go in any time this morning," he told me. "Of course, you'll have to wait if he's with other customers." He gave me the name, and the name of the dealership, and some directions. "But I think Sam knows where it is. And she will probably want to go along."