. 03

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 sequentially—giving 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.

Tuesday morning Ellen's alarm went off way too early. I dashed for the bathroom, and then was almost asleep when Ellen came back and woke me up.

"Remind me to tell you what Sam did to me once, and why you shouldn't do it, and how I applied it to Deedee and Ellen. Not now, too long. I meant to try it on Sam, but never got to it somehow. It might have disturbed people in the next room, for one thing."

"I think I'll treat you like Ellen did, if there's time."

She wasn't nearly as quick to come as Ellen Manning had been, that time, but I came with her. She got off me, and then brought me to readiness again and ate me. There was time, but shaving was a little rushed.

When we got to the gym, I saw Kelly just starting out on the track. I hurried and caught up to her. I took her arm and gave it a brief squeeze. She shied slightly.

"I'm sorry, bad habit. That's how I might have greeted Jenny in like circumstances. Or several others. Trouble is, they were all partners in other activities that made something like that appropriate, and it isn't, with you. Please forgive me."

"Phil, there was nothing wrong with that, except that I wasn't expecting it. Please don't, um, engage in contact that's usually sexual. Don't deliberately touch my breasts, say—not that you would, I'm sure. But what you did is as polite as a handshake. If you took hold of my arm and kept it—it would depend on the circumstances, I guess, but lots of times I'd be wondering what you meant.

"Then thank you for being understanding. I hope our discussion didn't disturb your sleep."

"If you really want to know, it did. But if you hadn't explained, I think Ellen's comment would have disturbed me more."

We ran on in companionable silence for a while. Finally she said, when we wouldn't be passing anyone very soon, "These dozens of women she mentioned. Did they all get what they wanted?"

"Some of them, maybe. Others wanted more and got less. If we're really going to dozens, more than two dozen, I think we're probably including some who wished but never really expected. I think of some that I didn't actually know, who seemed really nice, and we both enjoyed it a lot, but we never even spoke again beyond 'Hi' with a smile—for a couple a really, really big smile—when we passed. They may well have wished for more, but they never asked.

"I think of another one, the last g—woman I would ever have expected to want a repetition, who asked for one and got it, then got another through the luck of the draw in gym, and then got a whole night, including quickie in the shower after running and before breakfast. Um. She had a very close friend, and in a way they shared the night, but we started right after supper, I think, and they each had a go before bedtime, and the friend let her have me all night. With them, and a couple of others, I think they would have kind of liked a threesome, but those beds were narrower even than standard twins. There almost wasn't room enough to sleep together. I should add, this woman, the first time was barely so-so for her, but she asked to keep trying, and it kept getting better. The change was in her, entirely."

She looked utterly fascinated. She waited again for a modicum of privacy. "And what was wrong the first time?"

"I'll tell you, but then I mustn't tell you her name. She was a lesbian. Still is, really." Kelly's eyes and mouth opened wide. "Here's how it was." My voice was already low, but I lowered it more, until I was afraid she wouldn't understand me. "She wanted to keep it quiet. Before she came to school, it was merely a matter of attraction, no action—that was middle school, after all. And she met no others while with us in high school. The one close friend I mentioned was completely straight, but cared enough about her to occasionally manage sex, to satisfy both of them."

I described how I had come to be paired with Barbara, for one session of sex ed, and what had happened. I tried to be brief and straightforward—but I didn't really succeed very well.

I finished up, "We talked on the weekend, and I learned a lot about how hard it had been for her, and how sweet and courageous she was, and is. But she had a request. She thought it likely that someday she would have reason to want to screw a man. Maybe just to say thank you for someone who had done something really big for her, say. Worse reasons, too, I guess, like having to please a boss to get promoted—I don't know. But she wanted to practice on me. And fairly soon we made space in my schedule for it, and she actually enjoyed it, and came with me inside, from that. Every time was better for her. She's still turned on by women, not men, but even there, I think caring and consideration and tenderness will be the key. I can turn her on easily enough. If she finds the right man, who'll be ready to be a friend without an agenda first, as long as it takes, and take it slow, he'll probably be able to make her very happy for as long as it lasts, and that might be permanently."

We actually did an extra lap after Ellen and Elise had stopped, so I could finish. When we stopped too and went over to them, Kelly carefully kissed me on the cheek, no other bodily contact at all, and told me, "Thank you, Phil. I trust I'll see you tomorrow. Oh, and this afternoon, too."

We all headed for home. Ellen looked questions at me again, and I said, "Tell you later." When Kelly went her way, I said, "She asked me something more about those dozens of women, and I wound up telling her about Barbara Wilson. I didn't want to use a name in front of her, or to dance around with you avoiding a name, either."

Ellen looked at me for a moment and said, "You're proud of that one, aren't you? And well you may be. Only time will tell what the end result will be." She looked disturbed. "I kind of see a man in her future. Not you, someone else. But maybe it's just wishful thinking and imagination. Maybe."

"You keep saying you feel like I'm reading minds. Jenny and Sam, too. And Jenny found it disturbing. But if you keep seeing things, I'm going to find that disturbing. And I do not mean to stop it, even if you could, or to stop telling me, either!"

She came back to herself with a visible start. "I'm sorry. Yes, I saw something, and I don't know if it's from me, or from wherever the other one came from—or whether to believe it. Phil, I wish you could promise right now to be there for me. I'm still kind of afraid.

"But if it is true, Barbara will be with a man, in love, and so happy about it that it's scary. I know, she felt that way about you. If you'd been free to be hers, she would have been yours forever." She kind of shivered.

We were almost to our building, and I asked her, "Where are we going to shower and have breakfast?"

"Your place, if that's OK." So we went up there. We were going to be a little rushed, as we both had classes at nine. We kept showering pretty brief, except for a little quickie and a few extra kisses. I fixed eggs and toast, no meat this time, and we had juice and another piece of toast with jam on it, and a piece of fruit.

As we ate, I said, "I'll try to be quick, but you should be aware of this. Remember in sex ed, the second day, you had to do oral sex on your partner. I assume on your instructor, first. And I'm assuming that Sam's instructor had told her to try this, not that she came up with it by herself, not right then. My own instructor certainly didn't do it.

"What she did was basically to tease me. She took me all the way into her mouth, as much as she had room for, then back to where she could stimulate with her tongue for a bit, then the same, over and over. And I got to where I was so frustrated I couldn't stand it, and I grabbed her head and forced myself in and down into her throat, where I came pretty fast.

"Um, on second thought, my instructor had done a little teasing, yes, getting me ready to come all over her face, but not like this.

"So Deedee was kind of upset, by the way, I told you she wanted me to ask—demand—anything at all of her. And I mentioned deep throat, and she got upset because she'd just promised anything at all, and she couldn't manage that. But anyway, I thought I would try something different with her, and I teased her in a comparable way. I was eating her pussy. I'd bring her close to coming, as close as I could, and then back off. And I kept doing it. And she got frustrated, but each time she was a little more aroused before she got really close again, so she was getting hotter and hotter, more and more passionate. She was begging me to stop it and let her come. When I finally did, it was pretty amazing. I wound up doing about the same with Ellen afterward.

"I always meant to try that with Sam, after that, since it was based on what she'd done to me, but somehow it never worked out. You be thinking whether this is something you'd want to have happen to you. Let me know if it is."

We ate and brushed our teeth, collected everything, and headed for our classes. We walked to the actual campus, paused for one really serious kiss, and went off in separate directions.

I won't go into detail about my classes, the content I mean, but most everything was about interesting topics but still disappointed me some. Except that the one I enjoyed most was philosophy, not history. It was a little large for a class aimed at discussion, which it was. But the students were interested and thoughtful, eager to state their own views and thoughts and questions, but listening carefully and respectfully. Professor Moore guided the discussion without very often being obvious about it. He sometimes suggested things no one seemed to have thought of, but mostly asked questions and acted as moderator. He kept making some of us shut up so the quieter ones got a chance to talk, too.

That first day, we hadn't had any assigned reading, of course, but it seemed that most people had read the first chapter of one of the books—or so I thought. But I learned something&mdashwhich someone might have told me sooner! Most classes had web sites, and this one had assigned for us to read the first chapter of that book. Of course, I had read that much carefully, and also quickly read the rest of that book, and the same for the other two, and thought about them and made some notes, so I was ready. Philosophy of Mind interested me, too.

I'd put a lot more energy into the textbooks for my history classes, and I was disappointed with those. I learned some things, and plainly would learn more, but mostly the professors merely summarized what was in the textbooks. This allowed for questions about points the students didn't understand, but not much more.

I was continually thinking of questions that my high school instructors would have asked the students, taking for granted that the students would have studied the text material and thought about it. I took to occasionally asking these. Of course, I was asking the professors, not the class, but some of them proceeded to ask them of the whole class. And of course, I couldn't really provide whatever answers I'd thought of. I could sometimes put in thoughts during the discussions. I hoped I wasn't being disruptive, but the classes really didn't seem to be calling for much thought.

In the two o'clock history class, Kelly sat next to me. I was kind of aware of her presence all the time, but I did my best to pay attention to the class, and she seemed to be doing the same. We both had three o'clock classes, so at the end of the class we talked for just a minute before heading in different directions. "See you in the morning," she said. She was another really nice one, and I had no designs whatever on her body, which actually helped me feel easier with her at this point, but I was very aware of her as a woman friend.

At four I headed toward home, but with a couple of stops on the way. I had shopping lists. I stopped first at the resale shop, looking for specific things. They did have a few microwaves, and I noted that with interest, but right then those would have been too much to manage. Laundry bags, two mismatched ones. A few more plates, a little more flatware. A couple of plastic cutting boards. A stapler. I checked that the staples that were in it moved and fed freely, then tested the action. A smallish metal canister with a screw lid, for carrying powdered laundry detergent down to the basement, enough for just a few loads. A measuring scoop to go inside that. A few more hand tools. Aha! A plumber's snake, not a very good one but maybe adequate for Elise's drain, pretty cheap. Clothesline. Clothespins. There was a drying rack I'd rather have than clothesline, but light as it was I couldn't carry it and my other stuff—too awkward. And clothesline was always good to have on hand, even if I later got the rack.

At the counter, after paying, I nested the laundry bags and put everything else inside.

I went next to the little grocery, and bought ingredients for the next two nights' dinners and some fresh fruit. I also got some laundry detergent. I wanted spices, but decided to wait for the next trip to the supermarket, where I would find a better selection and, I thought, better prices.

I got everything home and put away. I washed the dishes from breakfast and swept and tidied. I needed to get dinner going, but first I walked over to Art's apartment. He was there.

We chatted generally for a few minutes, and then I told him, "I pointed out your door to Kelly, my running partner. I told her you're really nice. She had a really bad experience with a boyfriend who wasn't. I think nothing's likely to come of it, but I'll say a little more in praise of you. We've told her kind of a lot about school, and I told her a little about that session in sex ed. I tend to get going and talk too much—you may never have noticed, of course." He laughed. "I'm going to mention that you were one of only a couple of other guys there who was really pretty considerate, and what Sam said about you later.

"But the issue is that she's sort of a Christian. Not strong or well-founded, but I do think sincere. We're going to talk more about that. But she really has figured out that the Bible says Christians should only marry other Christians, and about sex being for marriage, and I think you won't get past that.

"This is something I'm dealing with anyway. Sam may be on the verge of becoming a Christian herself, and if not that close to it I really think within a few years. And I'm not comfortable sitting on the fence where I've been, any more, so things may change for me. Probably less soon, but who knows? And there are reasons to think Ellen also may be heading for decisions in that area. This last is kind of for you only, at present."

We talked about our first day of classes for just a couple of minutes. He felt somewhat the same as I did, that even courses for upperclassmen seemed to assume that students really wouldn't try to learn much beyond of what was presented in class. Well, we had only seen one day's worth.

I went back and got started on dinner. Ellen came in a bit later, and wonder of wonders, I was at a point where I could put things down and kiss her for a couple of minutes. I told her what all I had gotten. She was very pleased.

"Give me all your quarters!" she said, and measured out some detergent into the canister, got my dirty clothes—which had just been in a pile and were now in a laundry bag—and went off to see whether she could at least start most of our dirty laundry. Including my sheets, she pointed out.

"No, I can manage it all. You get dinner ready." In a little while she came upstairs, even more pleased. "Three washers were available, and everything fit into them. I'll have to run down in a while and get them out and hopefully be able to get them drying. And I hope we have enough quarters. If not, we'll rig that clothesline somehow. Phil, you're wonderful! I was almost to the point of washing underwear by hand in the bathroom sink. Thank you!"

Dinner was to the point of dishing up, in fact keeping warm, so we sat down to eat. It was spaghetti, in a commercial pasta sauce plus some additions. I sighed. I needed to remember Saturday's leftover. It would be fine for a few more days, but we needed to eat it up, and it would mean not having to prepare a main dish for one dinner. But the most time-consuming part of preparing that night's dinner hadn't been the spaghetti—even with cutting up onion and mushroom and sausage—but making the salad.

I didn't have any kind of dessert, not even ice-cream or store-bought cookies. No big deal, except that I really liked dessert. But I sort of got one anyway. Ellen came and sat in my lap and kissed me for five minutes before going down to the laundry machines. I cleaned up and did the dishes while she was gone.

We sat down to study when she came back, having left things in the dryers. After a few minutes, though, she needed to go down and check things, and empty lint traps and probably put in more quarters, and I went with her, taking our study things. So we sat and studied together until things were mostly dry, putting in quarters as needed. We kept track, so that we'd be able to have enough quarters on hand in the future, as well as for budgeting purposes. I needed to come up with a suitable container for quarters. Ellen took care of most of the sorting and folding and putting into laundry bags.

We went back upstairs, and I unpacked my clean clothes and found places to spread or hang the things that were still damp, while Ellen studied. Then I sat down and joined her again. It really didn't take much time before we were both done. There weren't any assignments except reading, so we'd reread and thought about and discussed somewhat.

"Today everything worked, but I really need to find places I can study between classes, during the day. And we may need to study during lunch." We'd been able to eat lunch together, and we would some days, but not every day. I'd packed some of the leftover sandwiches. They'd been fine, but I had forgotten to look for refreezable ice packs on my way home. Never made it onto my lists. I wanted to get some, to avoid having packed lunches risk spoiling.

We went to bed early to try to catch up on sleep a little. First, though, we took Ellen's stuff downstairs and got it put away. She had made her bed after stripping my sheets off, so nothing took very long. We slept in my apartment, though. We made love at leisure, since we were pretty early. The wide bed was a luxury, letting us sleep more soundly, but I missed the closeness. Still, just having Ellen in my bed for the night was an amazing, joyful luxury. I made it through the night without waking.

Wednesday morning when my alarm went off I was up instantly, heading for the bathroom. As I was washing my hands, Ellen knocked once and barged in without waiting and sat down on the toilet, apologizing. I turned my back and didn't watch, knowing she had a stronger sense of needing privacy than I did. When I was done, I went on out while she finished up. When she emerged, I was sitting on the bed wondering whether I should lie down for a minute or just get dressed. Ellen settled that pretty quickly, but it took more than a minute. When we got up again, I looked at the time and felt a little rushed about getting to the gym.