Ivy 2

Hi, Thanks for all of the great responses to last week's story. It was as much fun to write as most of you seemed to think it was to read. And like a lot of you I still have that song in my head. This week I wanted to do something a little bit different for me. No gimmicks, just a story driven by the characters, and a question. I hope it's not too boring, but then there's always next week. Thanks again for reading them.

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So many questions, so few answers. Can people truly change? Even if given a lifetime and the best reasons in world, can people change? More to the point can Ivy change? That's the real question in my mind as I look at her. I'd spent probably half of my life in love with this woman. She'd broken my heart twice. But on the heels of the greatest tragedy in my life she stands before me asking for a third chance to hurt me.

A big part of my heart tells me that I still love her in some capacity. It also tells me that though I loved my wife more, life goes on. Should my life go on with Ivy though? Can I take the risk? Would you?

I think that from the very first moment I saw her, I was in love with Ivy but also a little afraid of her. Maybe it's because I'm a bit more attuned to the mysterious powers that truly run the universe than the average guy. Maybe it's because I've already been burned twice before.

But now as Ivy stands before me promising to be with me forever, my mind is telling me to get the fuck out of here once and for all.

Another part of my mind is saying, "Yes do that, get out of here, but fuck her first."

I should mention though that no part of my mind is saying take her up on her offer, my heart though is another matter.

Let's go back near the beginning of our sad little tale and maybe you can understand my reticence to be with this goddess made flesh.

I remember the first time I saw Ivy. I was in my first year of teaching math at our local community college. Ivy was in one of my remedial math classes. At 26, she was a bit older than my regular students but not by much. For that matter I wasn't much older than my students either at 24. I was actually a lot younger than some were.

It was more than Ivy's age though that made her stand out from the crowd. It was...well it was everything about her. Ivy to put it simply, was a goddess among women.

Okay you're already thinking about this the wrong way. Right now you have this tall willowy blonde with big hooters going through your mind don't you? Well put away your preconceived notions and get back to reality.

Ivy is barely 5 feet tall, she's nearly flat chested, and her hair is dark. Her hair alone could take weeks to describe. It is one of the most incredible things about her. It's very long and very thick. It's shiny and full of natural waves that seem to tumble over her shoulders and down her back nearly to her ass. Her hair seems to have a life of its own and often moves or swings in punctuation of her sometimes abrupt head movements.

Ivy's eyes always appear to be laughing, whether she's happy or horny or pissed. I think God made them that way to let us mere mortals know that this woman simply will not put up with not having a good time. Her nose is a mere button that was probably slapped in the center of her face as an afterthought.

Ivy's lips are simply incredible. They are so full and pouty that they could be artificially enhanced, but no collagen has ever been injected into them. When you look at her you can just imagine what it would be like to have those lips sucking on your...

Anyway those lips are also very expressive. I often found myself getting lost in them while I tried to teach about fractions or elementary algebra.

Ivy is, as I mentioned very small up top, she often lamented her lack of breast size but I really think she was the only one. Her nipples are incredibly sensitive and get very hard, with only a nasty thought.

Her waistline is small enough that you can put both hands around it, but from there down it's weird. Rational men can see that God has a hellified sense of humor. He often does things like giving women with the biggest natural tits, the absolute flattest asses he can, and vice versa.

In Ivy's case it almost looks like her top half and bottom half came from two different women. Ivy's ass is massive and almost geometrically perfect in its roundness. The term bubble butt was coined just to describe it.

Her thighs are full and round but taper down to tiny ankles and feet in a very graceful way. How the hell they got legs that long on a woman who stands barely 5 feet tall is one of the mysteries for the ages. I can't explain it all I can do is appreciate it.

Ivy's voice and laugh are like bait. Her laugh is infectious and melodic and she uses it a lot. Her voice is likewise neither high pitched or deep, but so melodious she may as well be singing. Ivy could get rich as a phone sex operator.

But again if you're picturing a very cultured vocal pattern and very sophisticated delivery, you'd be surprised because Ivy curses like a mule skinner, or a sailor.

A little past the four week point in the semester of that first class that I taught with Ivy in it, I was torn. On one hand most of the students in my class were passing it, but on the other hand a very few were not. Ivy was one of one's who was not passing.

She and I spoke often, and as I said, I was in love with her from the beginning, despite the things I'd heard.

I'd often catch Ivy staring at me while she was supposed to be working her problems, so I was sure she'd at least given me some consideration as well.

There was however, no way I'd even think of putting my job or ethics into question, by having any kind of relationship with a student though. I also knew that in a lot of cases, mutual attraction between a student and their instructor, magically vanishes when the class ends.

I guess Ivy thought about me a lot more than I thought she did, though because she came up to me one evening after class was over. I'd packed my books and papers into my book-bag when I noticed that Ivy and I were the only ones left in the room.

"Did you know that there are no rules in place, in this school that would prevent you from going out to eat with me?" she said, breaking the ice.

"Did you know that you're not even close to passing this class?" I asked in response.

"What the he'll does one thing have to do with the other?" she asked again. Then she let out the most musical laugh, I'd ever heard. It was as if mere mortals laughed with their lungs and their vocal cords, but Ivy laughed with her entire soul. She tilted her head back with that leonine mane of hair twitching with every syllable and just laughed.

"Do you think I'm trying to get you to go out with me to boost my grades?" she laughed. "Here, look at this," she said, handing me a sheet of paper. Early registration had started that's morning, and Ivy had signed up to take the class all over again.

"I suck at math," she laughed. "I'm trying my ass off, and I'm doing better in your class than I ever have in any math class ever. But I didn't think I'd pass it. I was expecting to take all of my math classes twice."

"Oh," I said. I had the feeling that I had just blown a golden opportunity. I had spent a considerable amount of time lately, jacking off to thoughts of Ivy, yet when she approached me I'd just ruined the possibility of it ever happening.

"Shit," she said, still smiling. "I really fucked this up didn't I? I guess I'm not psychic after all. I've been sitting here all of this time thinking that you liked me and were just too shy to do anything about it."

She looked at me again, as if she was analyzing me. "I guess it's a case of transference, huh?"

"A case of what?" I asked.

"Transference," she repeated. "In psychology we learned that people sometimes think that because they feel a certain way everyone else does as well or sometimes just specific other people. I guess I thought that since I like you so much, you felt the same."

She stood up she said this and started walking towards me. Her cropped top and incredibly tight jeans outlining her body with every step. The closer she got to me, the more I wanted her. It was amazing to me, the effect she had on me while fully dressed and in public.

"Are you sure you don't want to grab something to eat with me? Maybe just as friends, or to discuss what I can do not to fail your class twice?" she asked in a teasing little voice.

At that moment all of those creatures from Greek mythology and the SyFy network finally made sense. I was the incredible two headed man. One of my heads was telling me to get as far from Ivy as humanly possible. Meanwhile the other head wasn't saying shit, but it was hard enough that I could have driven nails into concrete with it.

"I am kind of hungry," I heard myself say.

Ivy followed me to the parking lot, chattering cheerfully the whole way. She told me about how she thought that she should follow me to the restaurant so she wouldn't have to come back and get her car. She was embarrassed by her car, a twenty year old Chevy S10 truck, but she intended to get a newer more environmentally friendly vehicle as soon as she graduated and started making more money.

She was awed by the fact that the university urged its staff to drive environmentally friendly vehicles like professor Morton's Toyota Prius.

"Why are we stopping here?" she asked. I pulled out my key fob and opened the door of my 09, 45th Anniversary edition Mustang GT. The car with its twin screw supercharger put out over 500 horsepower. It has 19 inch Helo tease black rims, with a custom body paint matching rim around their periphery. The oversized Shelby brake calipers had been painted to match the body panels as well.

All of the car's lights were blacked out and the windows were tinted as dark as legally possible. The car was a monster.

"Uhm how is this environmentally friendly?" she asked, tapping a tiny foot on the concrete.

"Shit, Ivy," I said, smiling. "The whole car is painted green. And it's got a row of leaves painted like they're lying across the hood and the door panels. You simply can not be more earth friendly that this. In fact my car's name is..."

She smiled even bigger and looked at me. The look was so enticing that I forgot what I was saying.

"Those aren't leaves," she said. "They're Ivy. And if you wanted me lie down and spread on your hood or any other place all you had to do was ask."

That conversation set the tone for our entire friendship. Notice that I used the word friendship, not relationship. Ivy and I had a great dinner at Texas Roadhouse, and we ended up sitting in the swing on my porch for a long time. She even called her babysitter and paid her a little more to stay with her kids longer. But we did not have sex.

I was pretty sure that we could have, but believe it or not it was me not Ivy saying no.

We'd spent the evening just talking. I don't think I ever had a more pleasant conversation with anyone in my life. We talked about everything we could think of. We got along perfectly. By the end of the evening we were sitting there in my porch swing wrapped around each other and holding hands. With that amazing ass pressed up against my dick that was harder than a cylindrical diamond, Ivy raised her lips to mine. When I moved away, she smiled, but I could tell she was disappointed.

"Awww," she said, kissing my hand instead. "You can't tell me we're still only friends after all of this. This has been the best date of my whole life."

"Mine too, Ivy," I said. "But this...you're really special and I don't want to mess it up."

"Awww," she said again. "You are so sweet." she gave me one last hug, and started for her truck. As I watched Ivy's amazing hind quarters gently shifting their way down my driveway towards her truck, I felt my chest to make sure her nipples hadn't drawn blood when she hugged me.

She turned around and caught me staring at her ass, and smiled. "Last chance," she said.

I shook my head and said, "Nope," feeling like a fool.

"Don't worry," she said from the window of her truck. "You'll have plenty of other chances."

After that night, Ivy and I started seeing a lot of each other. She was the sweetest woman I'd ever met. She had a heart of gold and would give anyone the clothes off her back. I was sure that Ivy might just be the woman I wanted to marry.

On the other hand we hadn't had sex yet, due mostly again to me. I had trouble reconciling my sweet and wonderful friend with what I'd been told about her. Once I started dating her, people came out of the woodwork to tell me about her. Some of the things they told me I already knew. Ivy had told them to me herself. There were other things though that just don't often come up in polite conversation.

I knew that Ivy was 26 years old. I also knew that she had three children. Her oldest daughter Jasmine was 10. And she had another daughter Rose, who was 7 and her son Michael was 5. She'd also already told me that none of the kids had the same father. She was constantly going to court with this guy or that to arrange payment for back owed child support.

Ivy worked in a grocery store during the day and went to school three nights a week. Two of those night were spent in my math class and Ivy was still failing. Actually she was doing worse than before we started dating. She told me one night that she'd changed her math class next semester into a different section so she'd have another instructor.

When she saw that I was hurt, she told me that I could tutor her, but there was no way she could go through this twice.

"Go through what twice?" I asked. "Ivy you don't have to go out with me."

"I know that silly man," she said. "I'm not talking about your teaching. You're a great teacher, but unfortunately you're a better boyfriend. When I come to class now, I can barely concentrate. I just want to sit there and stare at you and imagine us fucking. But I know we're not going to until I'm out of your class, because of your ethics."

I just smiled at her. I was shocked that she thought of me as her boyfriend. That statement alone would launch a few loads of jizm into my sheets tonight, true or not.

"But seriously, Tim," she calls me Tim because that's my name. "I'm not sure I should be telling you this yet, but I think you're the man I'm supposed to settle down with."

Other students started coming into the classroom so she came closer to me and whispered her next statement softly. "Just think, as soon as I'm done flunking your class, every part of me will belong to you. You'll be able to do whatever you want to me. Whenever you want to."

Before I could say anything back to her she turned and walked to her seat. I put a few of the problems from the chapter on the board and told the students to solve them before the lecture. I walked around the classroom looking at what my students were doing. I helped a couple of them that were stuck. And corrected a few who had the wrong answer or had used the wrong method to solve the problems.

When I got to Ivy, I dropped a note on her desk and walked right by. I'd written the note when I assigned the problems. It was very short only three little words and a name. "I love you, Ivy."

I looked back at her a few minutes later and saw that she was doing one of those bizarre things that only women and rodeo clowns can manage. She was smiling and had huge tears rolling down her cheeks at the same time.

A few minutes later, she gathered her things and ran out of the classroom. I was puzzled and to be truthful, a little bit upset. I wondered why she'd left, and if she'd come back.

I guess in a very real way, I was torn. The same way I am right now. I guess I've always been confused about Ivy. It took me a long time to realize that with Ivy being what she is, I can't judge her the way you judge normal women.

The Pagans and many other religious sects worship an earth deity. This goddess is on one hand benevolent and makes the plants grow and brings gentle rain to provide water, yada yada yada. But on the other hand that same bitch brings tornados and hurricanes and volcanic eruptions that devastate the planet and kill many of those same plants and small animals. It doesn't make any fucking sense.

Ivy was the same. On one hand she was my sweet, kind, gentle and loving friend. Notice I didn't say girlfriend. That whole girlfriend/boyfriend thing was Ivy's words. I had never asked her to be exclusive. You're viewing things the way she did through girl logic.

Girl logic is the way that women view things. It is not an exact science, it isn't based on any logical or rational set of rules or laws, and it morphs constantly. In Ivy's mind we were boyfriend and girlfriend because she thought we were.

Okay I know what you're thinking. Yesiree Bob! I had just passed her a note saying I loved her. But shit, I love Eva Mendes too, but it doesn't make her my girlfriend. I love my Mustang more than I love most people, but it won't make her human. Love has its limits.

I did and do love Ivy. She is just as beautiful and just a sweet and wonderful as I've described her, but she's more like that Earth goddess than a woman.

On one hand she's the sweet and kind woman I've described. But on the other hand, my Ivy is probably the biggest whore I've ever known. Ivy will probably fuck any guy who looks at her. I'm always amazed at the sheer volume of guys who come up to me and tag me on the back and tell me how lucky I am to be fucking Ivy.

It made me feel like I was part of some worldwide fraternity composed of men in every country and every city on the face of the earth. Our only connection is that fact that somewhere or some-when, we've all been lucky enough to glimpse that special view of heaven, that is visible only between Ivy's thighs. But in my case it's like I'd stolen my membership card because I hadn't been there yet.

Ivy herself has in her honesty, made no secret of the fact that she loves to fuck. Most people do. And I've read enough articles to know that no matter how much pussy a guy has had, he'd have to probably triple it to come close to the number of dicks his wife or girlfriend has had. There are probably a few exceptions to this rule of course, there are some women who stayed relatively pure until they got married. But let's face it the average woman can have sex with nearly any man she wants just by letting him know she's willing.

Ivy on the other hand puts them to shame. Ivy and I have never talked about the number of people we've been with. But if even a quarter of the things I've heard about her are true, she probably has her own category in the Guinness book.

She's done it all gangbangs, sports teams, and every kinky thing you can name or imagine.

To be truthful, unlike what Ivy thinks, it isn't any sense of ethics that's keeping us from having sex. It's a combination of things. First I'm intimidated as to how any normal male could ever please a pagan sex goddess. And even if I did, how long would it be before I was just another notch on her sexual gun-belt.

She obviously has big notches and little ones. The small notches are just names somewhere in her memory. The really big notches are the ones she'll remember for at least 18 years while she chases them down for child support.

I really did love Ivy, but I just couldn't see any kind of future for us. I'm a one woman man, and I needed to know that my woman was the same way. I just didn't think that Ivy could be that girl.

In fact despite all of her talk of love and all the rest of it, I was sure that Ivy was still fucking guys left and right while we were dating.

I remember picking Ivy up from the store she worked at one Saturday morning. We squeezed Ivy, myself and all three of her kids into my Mustang. Luckily all of her kids were small. I'd picked up the kids first while Ivy worked the early morning shift. When I went into the store to get Ivy so we could have a picnic in a nearby state park, she was trying to settle an argument between two of the store's janitors.