1 comments/ 34638 views/ 2 favorites The Philadelphia Story Ch. 01 By: smj54ap Dear Readers: For better story clarity, I suggest reading the first three installments in the series, "The French Connection", "Caribbean Duet" and "Miami Heat." There are several minor references to the previous stories. Cindy's Sapphic Adventures: The Philadelphia Story: Part 1 Ben was showering as I adjusted the pillow under my ass. My needy gash was overdue for a good tongue lashing and Ben was the designated licker. When I heard the shower stop running, my pussy quivered in anticipation. Ben walked into the bedroom without a stitch of clothes on and sighed when he saw my spread eagle pose. "Do I have to?" he said wearily and collapsed on the bed. "What's the problem? Do you have a girlfriend?" I asked in a derisive way. Ben had the most hurt looking expression on his face that I jumped off the pillow and hugged him. I kissed all over his unhappy face and he looked up at me with a weak smile. "I love you Cindy." He said in a voice full of emotion. My heart was thudding in my chest. I loved this man with all my heart and as I tenderly held him against my body, I apologized for my rude comment, a rarity for me. Ben had spent most of the very hot day working in the garden and was beat. But, I knew a sure fire way to get him started. "Want me to tell you a story?" I asked very sweetly. With his head against my chest, Ben nodded affirmatively. "Any particular one?" I questioned eagerly but he was already kissing my chest and nipples. Philadelphia was one of my favorites and Ben liked it because it ended with him. Melissa: My first semester in graduate school was spent adjusting to life in the city. Luckily, my apartment was close to campus and within walking distance. Usually brimming with self confidence, I found the Ivy League atmosphere challenging and intimidating. The course load was light but intense and unlike undergraduate college, required a lot of research. My computer hummed with activity until the wee hours of the morning. I was having difficulty with my English Literature seminar and was seriously thinking about dropping the course. My academic advisor suggested that I speak with the seminar professor before I made any decision. Dr. Miller was very cordial and after hearing my concerns, was looking at me intently. Her gaze made me feel uncomfortable and I looked down at the floor. "Ms. Lowry, judging by your transcripts, you're more than qualified for this seminar." She stated factually. "As far as research papers are concerned, I am interested in your arguments and the research supporting those arguments." She added in the same factual tone. I was clutching my "drop course" slip in my hand and was unable to look at her. "But, if you want to drop the seminar, I'll sign the slip." She stated and reached for the paper. I don't know why but the memory of Lupe after her first pro fight appeared in my head and I crumpled the paper into a tight ball and it fell to the floor. When I looked at Dr. Miller, she was smiling. "I'm glad you changed you're mind" she remarked rather nicely. Tears welled up in my eyes; it was the first pleasant thing that someone said to me in weeks. Dr. Miller sat on the end of her desk in front of me; put her hand on my shoulder and looked into my teary eyes. "Graduate school can be complicated and arduous." she said with knowing concern. Then added, "It challenges one to contemplate complex and exceedingly abstract ideas." Dr. Miller handed me a tissue and I wiped my eyes. "Thank you, Ma'am" I said in a sniffing voice and walked out of her office. As I was contemplating my tenuous graduate school future at O'Brien's tavern, a tall red head with a nice smile sat in the vacant seat at my table. "You look like you could use a friend." She remarked with kindness. When I looked up at her inquisitive face, I was intrigued by the splash of freckles that adorned her cheeks and nose. I mentioned my meeting with Dr. Miller and was close to tears. "Dr. Miller, that's one tough professor." She stated knowingly. Then added, "Freshman English can be pretty tough at an Ivy League school." She saw the stunned expression on my face. "I'm a grad student!" I barked a little too loudly and forcefully. "Take it easy Cuz." She said in a placating tone. With my wounded feelings boiling over, I glared at her. "But, you have to admit you can easily pass for a first year undergrad." She pointed out in a factual way to my frowning face. "Would I be able to sit here and drink a beer if I were a freshman?" I questioned nastily. "Ever hear of fake ID"s?" she shot back then sighed with an air of defeat. "Hey look, I'm sorry. I'll leave you to your misery." She declared with sympathy and sarcasm. As she was standing up to leave, I regretted my outburst. "I'm sorry. Can we start over?" I asked politely and introduced myself. "Melissa" she said in a congenial tone with a broad grin. As we sat and drank beer, I discovered that Melissa was a 2nd year grad assistant and taught entry level chemistry to freshman. With her lively manner and direct way of speaking, she was a welcome change from the droning voices one finds in academia. It was easier to envision her driving a tractor trailer truck than teaching chemistry. "Dr. Melissa's Grad school lesson for the day; on Friday afternoon leave the books, research, paper writing and worries behind and do something else, preferably drinking at your favorite tavern, hint, hint. You NEED a break from the hectic schedule of research and writing papers. Burn out is common in grad school, especially in the Ivy League. Any questions?" she stated emphatically. "What's a Cuz?" I asked with as serious tone. Melissa chuckled and explained that "Cuz" was a slang term for cousin and even if two people were not related, it was often used by close friends. Melissa lived only one block from campus and invited me to dinner. Her studio apartment had a lived in look and with her face in the freezer portion of her refrigerator she asked, "Do you prefer the turkey or the meatloaf?" As the frozen dinners were warming in the microwave oven, I looked around her eclectically decorated room. On one wall was a framed diploma with a blue ribbon but on closer inspection I read with amazement: "First Place: Air Guitar Competition, Asbury Park N.J" Melissa saw me and as she was handing me a beer, commented in a serious tone. "I'm more proud of that than my damn Chemistry degree. I won five hundred bucks!" Melissa went into greater detail and explained that her boyfriend at the time was practicing for the competition when she discovered she had a flair for playing faux guitar. "He was an egotistical pain in the ass so I practiced when he wasn't around." She chose "Summer Song" by Joe Satriani and spent hours mimicking his style. "It's one kick ass guitar song." She waxed poetically. I begged Melissa for a performance and after she drained her beer bottle agreed. She listened thru the song once and I was impressed by the driving beat and Satriani's virtuosity. Melissa readied herself and stood with her red hair hanging in front of her face and her head slightly downward. With her hands clutching an imaginary guitar, she told me to crank up the sound. When the song started blasting out of the speakers, she launched into her performance. I was captivated by Melissa's very realistic performance and applauded enthusiastically when it ended. She took a bow and stated for the record, "The asshole finished in sixth place and never spoke to me again." Before I left that evening, I promised Melissa that I would meet her for happy hour on Friday afternoons. Despite the rocky start, I was thrilled at having found a new friend. We met on Friday afternoons at O'Brien's and Dr. Melissa's prescription for surviving grad school was right on the money. She had such an easy, unaffected and charming air about her. One Friday afternoon she saw an old friend of hers walk in the tavern and she yelled half way across the bar, "Hey Bradley, is that a huge wad of money in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?" Most of the patrons within earshot cracked up including me. Melissa never seemed to have trouble finding boyfriends and although I don't think she was promiscuous, she dated regularly. I described Melissa as tall but when your 5' 2", almost everyone else looks tall. With her striking red hair, angular but curvy body and large breasts, she had a definite sex appeal that the opposite sex found irresistible. However, she treated our Friday afternoon happy hours with reverence and refused to schedule anything that conflicted with our weekly socials. On a picture postcard Friday afternoon, I was finishing some research in the same building that Melissa taught an entry level Chemistry class. Curious about her teaching style, I walked up to her classroom. Unbeknownst to me, my shadow was visible on the floor in front of the open door. I heard Melissa's voice but it suddenly stopped and I saw her face peer around the door jam at me. She seized my hand and pulled me into the classroom next to her. In a loud voice she announced, "Class, we have a very distinguished visitor from the University of Miami, Dr. Cynthia Lowry. She will be observing the class today and reporting her comments to the Department Chairperson." As I sat in the back of the classroom, Melissa's class regarded me with a combination of admiration and fear. With her white lab coat and conservative outfit, Melissa looked and sounded like the consummate professor. At the end of class, several students came up to me and said they were glad to have met me. My only response was a curt "Thank You" as I kept up the façade. During our walk to O'Brien's Tavern, we laughed raucously at the innocent prank we had pulled at the expense of her student's. The weather was turning colder, when Melissa asked me if I would accompany her to see an up and coming rock band she liked. She was experiencing a temporary and for her, uncharacteristic boyfriend drought. The small concert hall was located in a part of the city I was unfamiliar with and we had to park blocks away from the venue. The hall was crowded and stiflingly hot but I enjoyed the show. Afterwards, we sat at the tiny bar next to the hall and Melissa was downing beers faster than usual. By the time we left, she was in a happy but drunk state. The weather had changed to rain and at times freezing rain. I had a hard time finding the car and in her inebriated state, Melissa was no help. We were soaked to the bone and since my apartment was closer, I decided to stop there. With my arm around her waist for support, I managed to get Melissa thru my front door and onto the sofa. I grabbed several oversize towels and blankets from the linen closet and started taking Melissa's clothes off. She regarded me with an amused expression until I got to her bra and panties. "Are you going to take advantage of me now?" she asked in a boozy but sincere voice. I ignored her and helped her remove the last two articles. Quickly, I wrapped her head and body in towels and a blanket. I stripped my clothes as well and hung them on a makeshift clothes line in the bathroom. When I reappeared in the living room, Melissa stared at me with a look of curiosity. "You're not interested?" She questioned with sincerity. Melissa was blunt but to the point. "I don't take advantage of drunks, either men or women. I prefer they remember the experience." I said convincingly. Melissa kept staring but her eyes were slowly closing and she fell asleep. The next morning Melissa woke to the smell of brewed coffee and fresh fruit. With bleary eyes she sat in my kitchen and drank big gulps of hot coffee. I said if she needed to shower, she was more than welcome and she took me up on the offer. Afterwards as she sat on my sofa with another cup of hot java, she tried to apologize for her behavior but I said it wasn't necessary. "I'm interested if you are?" she asked with a sheepish expression on her face. I gazed at her in stunned silence. Melissa explained that because of her success in finding men, she wasn't interested in women sexually. But, many of her friends in undergraduate college had good experiences and she felt like she missed out on something important. I had never discussed my sexual orientation with Melissa but apparently she was intuitive enough to know. "You're the first person I've met who I would...well...I mean..." she stammered. I was flattered and told her so. I took her by the hand into my bedroom and lay on top of her in my bed. Her eyes betrayed a mixture of fear and desire and I kissed her with a tender passion only a woman is capable of delivering. Melissa's soft, pliant skin texture was a turn on and I delicately kissed her face, neck and shoulders. I was fascinated by the shape and color of the freckles imbedded in her pale white skin and she told me that she hated having freckles from an early age. "Pity, because I think their sexy." I said in a growling tone and trailed my wet tongue over as many as possible. Another hot feature for me was Melissa's big boobs as mine looked like pimples in comparison. The nipples were broad with little pebbles in the center. With childlike delight, I alternated between a light and hard sucking action that had her writhing under me. The orbs of Melissa's skinny ass fit perfectly in my hands as I raised her pussy for a closer inspection. The dark red curly pubes framed her pouty lips and as I gazed at her cute pussy, I sensed her growing need. "Are you just going to stare at it?" she wheezed in a husky voice. With slow skillful licks, I lapped her leaking gash. I raised her ass even higher and tongued her butt hole with piston like precision. Melissa gasped and panted wildly as I replaced my tongue with a well lubricated finger. With my mouth working her pussy into a frothy mess, she moaned and cried out. "Damn! Fuck! Oh! Oh! Ah! OOH! Her voice ran the gamut of meaningless but meaningful sounds. With a furious determination, I sucked and licked Melissa's sopping wet slit while my finger reamed her rose bud. OH! OH! OH!" She panted in a long continuous series that culminated in a loud cry. During Melissa's orgasm, my tongue swabbed the drenched folds of her pussy and teased her clit. Her body quivered and jerked with each swipe of her sensitive bud. Afterwards we lay facing each other and she had that sheepish look on her face. She explained that while she totally enjoyed the experience, she preferred sex with men. "What can I say, I love cocks." She said with resignation in her voice. With as serious a tone as I could muster, I told Melissa that I valued our friendship more than anything else and that if this was the first and last time she had a same sex encounter, I was proud I was her choice. However, it did have the effect of opening up our friendship even further. For example, during my weekly seminar class on Thursdays with Dr. Miller, I found myself admiring her trim and sexy body. In glowing terms I told Melissa about my growing obsession and like a true friend she listened without judging my motives or feelings. Nicole: The day before Thanksgiving, Melissa and I went to O'Brien's tavern in lieu of our usual Friday social. With a research paper due in a few days, I had to spend most of the holiday weekend on the computer. We were seated at a booth when in walks Dr. Miller on the arm of a handsome man. As she was sitting down, she spotted me and asked us to join them. I refused at first but she insisted and I acquiesced. She introduced the handsome man as David, her fiancé. Without my asking, Melissa engaged David in conversation knowing full well that I wanted to get to know Dr. Miller. I was curious about Dr. Miller and asked how she became a university professor. "Please call me Nicole" she pleaded. As Dr. Miller spoke, I was fascinated by her brown skin, pretty face and delicate hands. She told me she was raised in a middle class suburban town outside Philadelphia and was considered brainy, a real geek straight thru high school. With her excellent grades, she received a full scholarship to one of the top colleges in Pennsylvania and never looked back. Her mother emigrated from Jamaica and her father was from South Carolina. They relocated to that state after she graduated from college. Despite her parents move, she decided to stay in Philadelphia. With her sensuous Caribbean island look, I had a hard time envisioning the pretty and vivacious woman in front of me as a geek. David ordered another round of drinks but I was too involved in Nicole's life story to drink. As she was recounting an amusing anecdote, her face lit up with laughter and I was entranced by her charming personality. "Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" she asked inquisitively. Even though I had to finish my research paper, I said no. Nicole wrote down the address. "Say, around three o'clock?" she stated more than asked. Of course I agreed. Thanksgiving Day found me on Dr. Miller's doorstep with a bottle of wine in my hand. She showed me around her beautifully decorated apartment which occupied two floors of an old townhouse. As I followed her, I glanced at her sexy body encased in tight jeans, almost see thru top and flat bare midriff. Best of all, she was bare foot and her feet were just as sexy as the rest of her body. We ended the tour in Nicole's galley style kitchen and she peered at the label on the wine bottle. "You have good taste in wine." she remarked knowingly. Suddenly I felt very shy and I'm sure my face betrayed my emotion. As Nicole opened the bottle and poured two glasses, she was looking at me with her intense eyes. "Tell me about yourself." She asked with genuine curiosity. I talked about growing up in Florida, attending private schools, my parents, my ambitions, everything except my love life. Nicole took a sip from her wine glass and innocently asked about my love life. "A pretty girl like you and no boyfriend?" she stated questioningly and with emphasis. Now, I was sure I blushed and Nicole made a very sharp observation. "Oh, I see." She said knowingly. Then, added with concern in her voice. "I didn't mean to embarrass you." Don't ask me why but I started telling Nicole about the male and female loves in my life, especially Claire, Natalie, Lee and Maria. She listened with the same intensity as her gaze until we smelled something burning. Nicole pulled a potato casserole out of the oven that looked a little burnt but salvageable. I helped her finish preparing the food and set the table for dinner. Then it dawned on me that David was absent. "Where's David?" I asked. "Visiting his folks" She said in a matter of fact tone. I gawked at her with a mystified look on my face. Nicole saw the confusion and elaborated by telling me that his parents refused to accept her because of her skin color. She continued by saying that they were an old money, Main Line family and wanted him to marry someone of similar breeding. "Main Line, does that have something to do with drugs" I asked stupidly. Nicole's face lit up with laughter and she explained that most of the oldest and wealthiest families in Philadelphia lived in that exclusive area. "You're a character Cindy." She said with laughter in her voice and I laughed along with her. We heard the front door open and in walked David, who greeted me very warmly. It was the first home cooked meal I had in several months and, at Nicole and David's urging, I stuffed myself. The wine flowed freely and I was a little tipsy by the time we cleared the table. The Philadelphia Story Ch. 01 Nicole wanted to play Scrabble and David groaned out loud. "Play Scrabble with an English Professor?!" David declared with questioning disbelief. "Why not, it'll be fun!" Nicole returned with emphasis. We sat and played till almost midnight. Nicole mopped the floor with David and me. She won several games with ease but I had a blast in their company. David made up the silliest words and we roared with laughter. It was an unforgettable holiday. They accepted my offer to join Melissa and me for happy hour every Friday at O'Brien's Tavern. It was the start of a friendship that lasted for many years. The semester ended in mid December and before I left for sunny Florida and Christmas break, I chose my courses for the spring semester. Unfortunately, Nicole was teaching mostly undergraduate classes and I was disappointed. When I returned to Philadelphia in early January, I was surprised at how downright cold the weather was compared to Florida. My folks had given me a goose down winter jacket for Christmas and I quickly realized what a wonderful gift it was. As I settled into my routine, I thought about Nicole and my nearly sexless life since last summer. I wondered if it had been a mistake to tell her about my past loves. At our weekly happy hours, I realized that my interest in her sexually, far exceeded my intellectual interest but she was engaged to David who I liked and respected. I was at O'Brien's tavern on a cold Friday afternoon with Melissa when in walks Nicole without David. Melissa announced she was late for a "date" and excused herself. Nicole and I sat in a booth and I could tell something was on her mind. "Everything Ok?" I asked with concern. "Yes and no" She said mysteriously. Nicole explained that David wanted to set a date for their wedding but she refused until his family accepted her. She tried to tell him that it was a lousy way to start a life together if the groom's family boycotted the wedding. "He professed his love for me but I told him that's not the issue." She stated with sadness. I saw tears forming in her eyes. "Sorry, I shouldn't burden you with this." she said apologetically. "What's more important, David or his family?" I asked in a sympathetic tone. Nicole didn't answer and looked like a lost soul. She was grasping for the right words but remained silent for a few minutes. "He'll be in Hong Kong for the next month representing his father's firm." she said with the sound of loss in her voice. Nicole drank several glasses of wine while we were discussing her dilemma and was getting up to drive home. I grabbed her keys from her hand and refused to let her drive. I told her I had a beloved Aunt who died as result of a drunk driver and I became a crusader for the cause. When Nicole opened the front door of her apartment, she insisted that I come in and warm up in front of the fire place. I reluctantly agreed and she opened a bottle of wine. Nicole and I sat in front of the cozy fire drinking wine. The effects of the alcohol were traveling straight to my libido and I hungrily eyed her lithe form. With her skin color, I was curious about what her pussy looked like. I tried to banish such "evil" thoughts from my head but it was useless. To make matters worse, Nicole changed positions and was lying flat on her back with her sexy tummy partially exposed. She was looking up at me with that intense gaze of hers and was explaining why she was adamant about David's family. Unfortunately, I wasn't listening and as the blood pounded in my temples, I brazenly stared at her body. "You haven't heard a word I said in the last five minutes." She stated accusingly and put her hands behind her head, exposing more of her flat stomach. I snapped out the doldrums but Nicole was a very insightful woman. She could have stared down an eagle with her intense gaze and now she was focusing her attention on me. Her stern expression turned to one of interest. It was all too obvious to her. "Are you doing some type research?" she questioned with a sexy voice. I looked at her with a puzzled expression. "You keep staring at my stomach" she said I was flustered and stammered a few words but she ignored me. "I'm very flattered." She remarked and I was startled at how her demeanor had changed. Nicole's predatory look had the blood percolating in my veins. "Come here" she commanded and I fell right into her arms. Nicole kissed me with a delicacy that reminded me of Claire. She trailed wet kisses over my throat that had me panting with desire. I mistakenly thought I could teach her the meaning of "French Kissing" but she needed no instructions. With unbridled passion she gave her all with each kiss. We quickly undressed each other and I gazed with yearning at Nicole's naked body. She pulled me down for more kissing and ignited a fire in my loins. I moaned into her mouth as I humped her thigh. Within minutes my pussy lurched in orgasm. With fiery hunger I kissed down her chest and engulfed a chocolate colored nipple with my mouth. Nicole arched her back and groaned her approval. I gently twisted and rolled one nipple with my fingers as I greedily sucked on the other. "Oh baby, that feels sooo good." She moaned. As my mouth worked on her juicy nipples, my fingers stroked her soggy slit. She held me and writhed under me, making all sorts of noises. I craved her body. Relentlessly, I sucked her tits and fingered her gushing gash. "Oh God! She wailed when my tongue slid up her dripping wet pussy. I savored her pungent juices with every swipe of my tongue and ate her delectable pussy like it was my last. OH! OH! OH! OH! She gasped as I pumped two fingers into her slushy hole and whipped my tongue across her clit. As I continued my assault on her pussy, Mount Saint Nicole erupted with volcanic force. "AHGGGGG! AHGGGGG!" She screamed. During her orgasm, she shuddered and shook forcibly with great panting gasps. With my tongue poking at her flooded hole, I drilled a gooey finger into her rectum. Nicole threw her head back and let out a primal scream. "OH! OH! I'm coming AGAIN!" she shouted. As her hips undulated wildly, I gripped her butt and kept my mouth securely attached to her pulsing pussy. Gradually her movements slowed and exhausted by my labors, I collapsed next to her. Nicole hugged me and kissed my face coated with her juices. "Unbelievable!" she exclaimed. As I lay next to her in recovery mode, Nicole talked about her bi encounters in college and grad school. For the last two years, she had purposely avoided any potential bi flings because of her relationship with David. But, it was only a matter of time and under the right circumstances her body reacted and refused to be denied. I turned and lay against Nicole's body and drifted off to sleep. When I woke in a darkened room, I felt disoriented until I realized I was in a bed next to Nicole. As quietly as possible, I got up to use the bathroom but when I returned, I saw her looking at me. When I got into bed, she pulled me close and I felt almost childish lying next to this mature and wonderful creature. As I lay with my back against her front, she draped an arm over my side and toyed with my nipples. I was intimidated by Nicole and was having a hard time responding to her ministrations on my tits. "What's wrong?" she asked with obvious concern and stopped playing with my tits. "Not into black women?" she said in a serious tone. I turned so quickly that I surprised her. With python like strength, I put my arms around her and squeezed. "Easy girl!" she ordered with an amused voice. Nicole was looking over my petite frame. "Nice muscle tone" she remarked in a sexy way. Finally, her gaze lingered on my blonde pussy. I sensed the heat in my face and knew I was blushing. Nicole slowly kissed her way down to my sodden slit. She nosed around my hairy mound and lightly kissed along my gash. "I think I'm REALLY going to enjoy this!" She panted loudly. Nicole tongued my soggy slice with an exquisiteness that reminded me of Claire. I threw my legs over her shoulders and watched intently as she feasted on me. Nicole used a sucking/licking technique that made my pussy throb uncontrollably. My eyes rolled back in my head from the intense pleasure and my orgasm grew to massive proportions. OH! OH! OH! OH! I yelled repeatedly and my orgasm detonated with atom bomb force. Overcome by the extraordinary sensations, I screamed the "F" word obscenity which I never used in conversation. My petite body shook as strong contractions clenched my pussy. Truth be told, I hungered for Nicole and wanted to pleasure her far more than I desired her pleasuring me. Even when David returned from Hong Kong, she would sneak over to my apartment for an occasional afternoon tryst. As the semester drew to a close, I made the decision to enroll for both summer sessions and graduate in December. During the two week break between the sessions, Nicole invited me to spend the entire time with her and David at the New Jersey seashore, or as Nicole corrected me "Down the Shore" in Philly speak. Florida beaches are rarely as crowded as the beach in Ocean City N.J. over the 4th of July holiday. Wall to wall bodies took up most of the available real estate close to the water. Nicole warned me about the water temperature but I threw myself in and rose to the top shivering from the cold. Nicole looked stunning in her bikini but she preferred the shade of a beach umbrella. "Don't want to get any darker" she declared emphatically. On an especially hot day, I stared rapturously as little beads of sweat rolled down her body from just below her bikini top, over her stomach and disappeared into the bottoms. One overcast day, David left early for an important business meeting. I was finished my boxing workout and started preparing some melon slices for breakfast when Nicole appeared in the kitchen wearing only panties and her nipples were erect. Nicole's biggest sexual fantasy was to have her pussy eaten after David made a "deposit" in her pussy. By the time she sat on the edge of the sofa, I was on my knees and in front of her. I skinned her panties down her legs and relished the experience. The combination of bodily fluids was different but pleasurable as I sucked her turgid flesh and Nicole howled in orgasmic approval. That night after dinner, Nicole said she had a surprise for me and produced a box wrapped in plain paper. I had fulfilled her fantasy earlier and she wanted to reciprocate. I was entranced by the strap on dido I pulled out of the box. I assumed a doggy position on Nicole's bed with my butt in the air. She screwed by grateful pussy with gusto and I climaxed strongly several times. It was near the end of the last week of vacation when I saw Nicole sitting in the kitchen with a concerned look on her face. "Something wrong?" I questioned. Nicole explained that she had missed her period the previous week. She was holding an early pregnancy test kit in her hand and went into the bathroom. When she reemerged holding the plastic cup containing her urine, she slowly submerged the paper strip. After the prerequisite amount of time she removed the strip and looked at the result. With a broad smile Nicole showed me the test strip and I leapt for joy when I saw the positive sign. I grabbed her and hugged her but backed off when I felt I was a little too rough. "You're already treating me differently." she remarked with mock seriousness. When David came in from his morning jog and found out, he was ecstatic. On a warm September Saturday morning, David and Nicole exchanged wedding vowels in the small University chapel before a select group of family and friends. I blubbered with emotion thru the entire ceremony and Melissa kept handing me tissues. Although our intimate relationship was over, my friendship with Nicole blossomed and endured. At my graduation ceremony in December, a very pregnant looking Nicole gave me a graduation card with a generous gift inside and a small box wrapped in silver foil. When I opened the box, I saw a crumpled ball of paper and recognized the drop course slip I had left on her office floor. Hot tears enveloped my eyes and I was unable to speak. "I want you to keep this as a reminder whenever you feel like quitting or giving up something of importance." She said in loving tones. Considering the size of her belly, we hugged at arms length. At Nicole and David's christening party for their daughter, I experienced maternal feelings holding the small miracle of creation in my arms. I told Melissa I wanted to have children someday and she gave me her "you're nuts" look. My life's journey had hit a smooth stretch of highway and I was on cruise control. However, nothing could have prepared me for the stretch of potholes that lie up ahead. Stay tuned for the final installment of Cindy's Sapphic Adventures The Philadelphia Story Ch. 02 Ben was dozing and that was for the best. As I pulled the bed sheet up to cover his naked body, I felt powerless to stop the flood of emotion that engulfed me when I recalled the events of the past few years and I wept as the memories streamed thru my conscious mind. The Philadelphia Story: Final Chapter ONE: After graduation, I remained in the Philadelphia area seeking employment. Chock full with two and four year colleges, I stood a much better chance of finding a teaching job than in Florida. After my interviews at various campus locations, I spent time exploring the tremendous diversity of activities that existed within a few hours drive of the city. Melissa and I went clubbing on Delaware Avenue and spent New Years Eve in Atlantic City playing the slot machines. With New York City close by, I attended my first Broadway show, "The Lion King" and did all the touristy sightseeing one associates with Manhattan. On a cold February day, I made the pilgrimage to Washington DC and was awed by the stark beauty of the Vietnam Veteran's Memorial. Then was moved to tears by the tragic waste of so many lives whose names are enshrined on the wall. Several months passed and not one offer from any of the positions that I applied for. I was just about to give up hope when one dreary Thursday afternoon with grocery bags in both arms, I was walking up the front steps to my apartment building and the doorman handed me an express mail envelope. "Came about an hour ago." He stated. Per Melissa's instructions to me, the out of town neophyte, I tipped the doorman. "Always tip the doorman." She would say like a mantra. Inside the privacy of my apartment, I tore open the envelope and read the enclosed letter. "Dear Ms. Lowry, The College of Liberal Arts is pleased to offer you the position of Instructor in the English Department..." I gaped at the letter in wide eyed disbelief. My first job in the academic world and only a thirty minute commute from my apartment. The following week I met with the Dean and he outlined the course details and requirements. "If you're available, I have a Freshman English class in summer session that you can teach." He stated and I accepted immediately. With a two week deadline to prepare lesson plans and course materials, I worked feverishly and finished the day before the scheduled start of classes. On my first day, the Dean introduced me to the faculty in my department. I taught both summer sessions and formed several social friendships with my colleagues. We went to a local tavern called the Rusty Whistle for happy hour every Friday afternoon. I wanted to continue the tradition that I started with Melissa in graduate school. When the faculty was at full strength the size of our happy hour socials doubled. During our first social of the fall semester, I saw many new faces but one caught my eye. She was sitting at the far end of the table with a colleague I met last summer. Jerry waved his hand in a "come here" gesture and introduced the very pretty woman sitting next to him as Nadia. "Nice to meet you." I said cordially. I sat next to Nadia and discovered that she was from Russia and moved to the United States with her parents when she was in her early teens. This was her third year teaching Biological Sciences at the college. Nadia's voice had the barest hint of an accent when she spoke and I told her so. "I studied English in school before I came to the United States." She said with pride in her voice. As Nadia's piercing blue eyes held my gaze, her cheerful but reserved manner gave her an air of gentility. With her peaches and cream complexion and blonde hair pulled back and twisted in a French braid, she made my pussy twitch. The happy hour social was breaking up and Nadia invited me to dinner at the seafood restaurant next door. After we ordered, we talked as though we were old friends instead of new acquaintances. I listened with rapt attention as she recalled growing up in Russia. "Everyday I had gymnastics training." She said with bitterness. Then lamented, "I wanted to be a Ballerina and dance with the Bolshoi." However, Nadia's parents wanted her to be a gymnast and compete in the Olympics. She remembered in detail the small apartment with the shared bathroom, the scarcity of food and waiting in long lines for something as mundane as toilet paper. Nadia's parents were chemists but because they were suspected dissidents they rated far less than other people of similar stature. Even with the fall of communism and greater freedoms, they desired a better life and moved to the United States. By the end of the meal, I felt like we were bosom buddies. During the week, our paths crossed several times on campus and we both commented on the unseasonably warm weather. At happy hour on Friday, Nadia invited me to her parent's home on Saturday for a swim in their pool. "My mother and father keep the pool open until the end of September." She chirped in a happy voice. At first I thought it was odd that Nadia, who I guessed to be about twenty seven or twenty eight years of age, was still living at home. But, when I saw her home, I whistled thru my teeth. The large colonial style house occupied an oversized wooded lot in an upscale neighborhood of suburban Philadelphia. Nadia gave me a tour of the house and I met her folks. I found them to be charming but with a sophisticated air and they possessed a command of the English language that rivaled their daughter's. We quickly adjourned to change into our swim suits and Nadia went into her bathroom. As I was primping my hair in her bedroom mirror, I heard the bathroom door open. "Cindy, could you help me with something?" she asked in a pleading way. Nadia was having problems tying the strings of her bikini top and I remedied the situation. When she turned around, she took my breath away. "Does it look Ok?" she questioned with concern and I nodded my head in agreement. Nadia explained that she found it at a small boutique in Manayunk. When she came out of the dressing room she felt "over exposed" in the bikini. "It's only four triangles of cloth and some strings I argued. But, the salesgirl insisted it was a good fit." She said with some pride. Good fit? The damn thing fit her perfectly. "The only problem I have is tying the strings. I'm all thumbs." She remarked with humor. Nadia's body had a beautifully proportioned look. The curves and lines flowed together in a symmetry that one rarely sees in the human form. It was the type of body one acquired from nature, heredity or God and while it could be honed by workouts was unattainable simply by working out. Although Nadia was of medium height at 5' 5", she had a light footed, airy way of walking that made her look taller. As we sunbathed by the pool, Nadia and I discussed a variety of subjects. While I was initially drawn to Nadia's beauty, I was intrigued by her intelligence and dynamic personality. She was conversant on a wide range of topics and we had a few heated but scholarly arguments. TWO: With the passage of time, our relationship grew from a social one to a close personal friendship. When Nadia's mother discovered that I lived alone, I was invited to dinner on many occasions. Although I was unfamiliar with Russian cuisine, her mother skillfully cooked meals with a palate that combined a variety of ethnic ingredients from different cultures. Nadia taught me how to play chess and "whooped my ass" until her father gave me some helpful strategy instructions. We went shopping, saw movies, toured the museums and attended concerts. In December, she took me to see a Pennsylvania Ballet performance of "The Nutcracker" and I was moved to tears by the majesty of the production. But, Nadia had a wild side and we frequented clubs where she would dance until closing. Although she had many male and female admirers, she declined all requests for her cell phone number and dates. The same admirers bought her drinks and she never refused a free drink. I found it amusing that the prim and proper Biology Instructor was equally at ease in a museum environment and in a nightclub shaking her booty. During the Christmas school break, I was having dinner with Nadia and her parents, when freezing rain coated everything and turned the roads into a skating rink. Her folks insisted that I spend the night and Nadia produced a bottle of vodka from the freezer. We sat at the kitchen table and drank shots with the consistency of syrup. The cold liquid turned fiery as it progressed down the throat and warmed the insides of the body. By now my infatuation had developed into genuine romantic feelings. Nadia was everything one could hope to find in a woman or a man with a generous nature, kindhearted, sexy, beautiful, intelligent and loving. After a few shots were consumed, Nadia took me, the bottle and the shot glasses to the hot tub in the basement. As she took the cover off the hot tub, I realized I had no swimsuit and when I pointed this out to her, she just laughed. "Who needs a swimsuit!" she declared emphatically and was peeling her clothes off. With the vodka roaring thru my veins, I threw caution to the wind and stripped. When I got my first unrestricted view of her naked body, an overused cliché popped into my head; "Awesome" Nadia's breasts were round and rode high on her chest with medium size protruding nipples. They were marvelously proportioned to her body and I guessed about a 34B. Her pale unblemished skin had a creamy glow and highlighted the toned muscles that lay just underneath the surface on her chest, flat stomach, arms and legs. With the inevitable trek downward, my gaze alighted on her pussy framed by dark blonde pubes. Lovely, pretty, picture perfect and jaw dropping were some of the adjectives and phrases that came to mind. We toasted a few more shots and when the water became unbearably hot, sat on the edge of the hot tub with our feet in the water. While we were listening to some music, I was entranced by the sight of Nadia's sexy butt moving to the beat of a song. With my head buzzing from the vodka, I dropped a hand between my legs and lightly touched my slit. "Are you going to masturbate?" Nadia wondered aloud in a slightly boozy voice. Then I remembered her parents upstairs and stopped. Nadia read my mind. "Don't worry, their in bed." She said in a carefree tone and I resumed my activity. Nadia slowly opened her thighs and with tentative swipes, fingered her hot looking pussy. It wasn't long before her digits alternated strumming her clit and poking her hole. With my eyes firmly affixed to the sight of Nadia masturbating, I threw my head back and skyrocketed to planet orgasm in record time. I continued to gently massage my slit and gawked as Nadia moaned and groaned her way to an orgasm. With our mutual masturbation fest over, we strolled naked to her bedroom. Not much was said and I incorrectly surmised that Nadia was tired. While she was in the bathroom, I had the sudden urge to urinate and knocked softly on the door. "Come in." was the reply. When Nadia saw my cross legged walk, she understood. As I sat on the toilet relieving myself, I watched as she stood in front of the mirror with a large wet wash cloth and gently cleansed her body. The sight of Nadia's nude body, especially her tits, was inflaming my lust. Well aware of the effect her show was having on me, she seductively dabbed her slit and butt with the dripping cloth. Sitting on the edge of the sink, she ran the cloth up the inside of both out stretched legs then left a wet trail over her stomach and hard jutting nipples. As my body surrendered to the erotic display, I vigorously fingered my soggy hole. Nadia produced a flesh colored dido and with her legs splayed, slowly inserted it inch by inch into her pretty pussy. While her free hand alternated squeezing a tit, she made little mewing sounds. Like a jack rabbit on a date, I was in front of Nadia at tit level. When I palmed her sexpot nipples, she increased the tempo and the reaming dildo made squishing noises. My fingers rolled, tweaked and pinched the erect buds but before I had the opportunity to taste them, her body shook. "I'm comingggg!" she announced loudly. As we lay side by side in her bed, we talked about our feelings for one another and how we both wanted a romantic relationship. We kissed with a passion reserved for lovers and cuddled till dawn. I woke to the sound of someone speaking a foreign language. When I heard the bedroom door close, Nadia appeared in my field of vision wearing a chenille bathrobe. She saw I was awake and told me her parents left for the day to visit relatives. "My mother and father are going to visit my Uncle in New Jersey." She explained in a cheerful voice. Nadia plopped down next to me, wrapped her arms around my neck and leaned in for a kiss. She had a raw kissing technique that was rough but very satisfying. With childlike enthusiasm, Nadia dragged my sleepy body to the shower and threw water and soapy foam at me. Her playfulness was a real turn on for me but once the fires of her libido roared to life, she was like a Siberian tigress. Nadia was drying her body as I lay in bed studying the way her curves flowed symmetrically on her form. When she was dry, she threw the towel away and pounced on me. She pulled my petite body until it rested on top of her and she kissed me in her rough but sensual way. With the memory of last nights bathroom show still fresh in my mind, I made a bee line for her tits. With my head buried between Nadia's legs, I ate her soaking wet pussy with more urgency and guessed correctly that she wanted it fast and furious. Her pussy produced creamy fluid in quantities that rivaled Natalie's and I found her slit was usually engorged with juice before I started licking. Although Nadia liked her sex rough and raw, she was a generous lover and knew I preferred the slower and gentler approach. Her intuition about when to tone down the sexual heat and let it rise more slowly created a harmony that was satisfying for both of us. Nadia loved to experiment and toys were one the outlets she was partial to. Eventually, I showed her my strap on and she loved fucking me missionary style while I played with her tits. We often took turns with our butts in the air as we reamed each other doggy style. But, our relationship grew to be much more than sex and within a few months we were inseparable. One day after school, I was waiting for Nadia and when I saw her walking toward my office, my heart thumped with vibrant emotion. Later that night as we held each other, I looked at her. "I love you." I gushed with passion in my voice. Nadia regarded me with an amused expression. "It's about time, because I love you." She declared in a loud voice that reached the rafters. "I love Cindy!" she blasted out of her lungs at high volume. I embraced her firmly and she kissed me with passionate zeal. Our love was mutual and swelled with each passing day. I purchased a small home near campus and asked Nadia if she would come live with me, not as a roommate but as my soul mate. When she accepted, I cried with joyous elation. The fact that she was a woman made no difference to me and Nadia expressed the same sentiment as well. We loved each other and that was the most important factor in our decision. However, we kept it as quiet as possible and drove separate cars to work. We even arrived separately for the Friday happy hour socials at the Rusty Whistle. Neither of us felt the need to broadcast our feelings for one another to the world around us. Nadia's parents were not very pleased but recognized that their daughter, who they loved dearly, was an adult and capable of making her own decisions about her life. My folks were more accepting but since they lived in Florida, would only have to deal with the situation when we visited. At the end of the spring semester, we traveled to Las Vegas for a long weekend. Nadia had always wanted to visit and the travel agency on the internet found us a suite at the Bellagio for a very reasonable price. While I wasn't much of a gambler, Nadia had a penchant for Roulette and Blackjack. I stood in back of her chair at the Blackjack table and watched her expertise with the cards. We tried to visit every casino on the strip and Nadia would win small amounts of money. After a few days it added up to a tidy sum but Nadia grew tired of gambling. We went to a performance of Cirque Du Soleil and while I thought it was too bizarre for my taste, Nadia insisted we see it again because it appealed to her Russian sense of theater. We marveled at the dizzying array of shops and restaurants. Nadia liked the buffet style breakfast, lunches and dinners while I was partial to the traditional way of dining. With unflagging energy, we traipsed up and down the Strip sampling the best that Las Vegas had to offer. Our last night in Vegas, we decided to give our aching feet a break and ordered room service. As we sat in the oversized hot tub, we ate and drank to our hearts content. Rejuvenated by the steamy water and delicious food, Nadia had that look in her eye and I raced to the bed with her in close pursuit. Nadia pounced on me and growled her approval when I feasted on her for dessert. With our idyllic vacation over, we made one last stop at Caesar's Palace. Nadia wanted to buy a pair of shoes that she saw the previous afternoon. As we stood on the moving walkway, the morning sun shone on her face and the light breeze framed her hair in just the right way. I took several photos with my digital camera and when I downloaded them into my computer, one in particular beautifully captured Nadia's smiling countenance. It is hard to put into words the amount of bliss that I experienced when Nadia and I were together. Every morning when I woke with her body next to mine, I felt safe, secure and most of all loved. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her and although she never verbally stated the same desire, her actions told me all that I needed to know. We did almost everything together. I had never felt so in tune and in touch with another human being. Nadia had a childlike playfulness that I adored as she injected the every day and tedious activities with her fun loving spirit. Sometimes when she washed the dinner dishes, she'd throw handfuls of soapy water at me. Or, she'd throw freshly dried clothes at me from the dryer, challenging me to fold as fast she threw. The vacuum cleaner evolved into an object of torture and fun as she poked my rear with the suction end and left small round red welts on the skin. But, I treasured the quiet times when we would cuddle together on the sofa and watch TV or lay side by side in bed. When she fell asleep in my arms or I in hers, I was enveloped by an all encompassing sensation of love and security. When the fall semester was underway, the Friday happy hours resumed and I met the new Activities Director. Ben was very pleasant with an engaging personality and he often sat with Nadia and me. Our conversations covered just about every topic under the sun and he would argue his points tirelessly. On several occasions, we asked him to dine with us at the seafood restaurant next door and he introduced us to bowling at an alley near campus. Nadia had a flair for the game but I needed help and Ben took great pains to instruct me. After one particularly enjoyable Friday night, Nadia commented that Ben had his eye on me. "He likes you, I can tell." She remarked without a hint of jealousy. I told Nadia she had an overactive imagination given the fact that with her body and beauty, he probably had a crush on her. The Philadelphia Story Ch. 02 "No, I see the way he looks at you." She said in a serious tone. We considered Ben a close friend and he was one of only a very select few who knew Nadia and I were a couple. THREE: The last time I saw Nadia, she was leaving to attend an evening meeting with her doctoral thesis advisor in New Jersey. I distinctly recall that the weather had turned gloomy with a thick fog reducing visibility to zero. Nadia was not a careless driver but despite my pleas, refused to wear a seat belt. It was one of my pet peeves and the cause of some heated arguments between us. It was past 11 pm when my cell phone rang and Nadia informed me that she was on her way home and not to wait up. "Love You." I heard her say loudly and for the last time. I wanted to stay awake and started correcting mid term essays. After I finished about half the papers, I realized that it was almost 2am. I was reaching for my cell phone to call Nadia when it rang and a sudden feeling of dread washed over me. Nadia's mother was barely able to speak but I discerned the words, accident, Hospital and died before I wailed in anguish. When I arrived at the hospital, her body was already in the morgue. Her parents saw me and as they embraced me, we grieved together as a family. My Nadia, my beautiful Nadia was gone. The EMT"s who brought her to the hospital, told me that she lost control on a highway cloverleaf and the car skidded thru a gap in the guardrail. It plunged down an embankment until it struck a large boulder. Nadia's body went thru the windshield from the force of the impact and severed her carotid artery. She bled to death within a few minutes and was lifeless before they arrived on the scene. The officer at the accident site determined that Nadia wasn't wearing a seat belt at the moment of impact and the fatal injuries that she sustained might have been avoided if she had worn one. The results of her blood alcohol test showed that she was sober at the time of the accident. The poor visibility and wet roadway were the overriding factors in the cause of the accident. Indescribable heartache and sorrow engulfed my spirit and I felt like a hollow eyed robot when I attended Nadia's funeral. At her parent's behest, the casket lid was closed because of the extensive injuries to her head and body. With my parents at my side, I placed a single red rose on her coffin. Like a dazed automaton, I wondered around my house. My request for a leave of absence from the college was granted and although my folks wanted me to come home to Florida, I refused. Nadia was no longer in my life but Philadelphia was my home now. Slowly my grief turned to anger and bitterness. "If only Nadia had been wearing a seat belt, she might still be alive." I would cry out loud in frustration and with no one present. Sometimes, I blamed myself for Nadia's death because I let her drive in such awful weather. Day after day I searched my soul for the answers but none came. The slightest reminder of Nadia brought on bouts of crying and despair. I couldn't bear to look upon the framed photo that I took of her in Las Vegas and I shoved it in a drawer. In the hopes of finding some answers or reasons for the tragedy, I attended grief counseling group sessions. After one very difficult session were I finally bared part of my grief to the group, Dana, the group leader, gave me a book. I looked at the title; "The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter" by Carson McCullers. "It may not provide you with the answers that you seek, but it may give you some insight into the emotions that you are experiencing." She remarked with sympathy. Although the counseling sessions were instrumental in helping me cope with Nadia's death, I was a changed person. My bitterness was replaced by a cynicism that hadn't existed before. The wide eyed well-to-do innocent from Florida had disappeared and in its place was a much sadder but wiser individual. Reality sucked and eventually my cynical outlook on life softened but never left me. Sometimes, it worked as a crutch that I relied on to get me thru the day. However, Ben was the one colleague and friend who helped me more than anyone else. At the funeral we held each other and cried. When he told me that he considered Nadia a true friend and how he had valued her companionship and friendship. I sobbed with utter abandon. Ben was the one person who I allowed visits to my home and his presence was a welcome relief from the loneliness and hollowness in my soul. When I returned to work, I learned that the Friday socials were a fixture and continued in my absence. That alone was enough to send me on a crying jag but at Ben's urging, I resumed my attendance with him by my side for support. The kindness that everyone extended to me was genuine and heartfelt. Despite our secrecy, most of them knew simply by the look on our faces that Nadia and I were more than just friends. As the months elapsed, I slowly emerged from the emotional upheaval and realized that my life had to go on. I put the photo of Nadia I took in Vegas back on the dresser and when I gazed at her countenance frozen in time, I would smile in loving memory. Sometimes the tears came but it was tolerable. During one of my weekly phone calls to my folks in Florida, my mother reminded me of something she told me after I returned from France; "Time heals all wounds but some take longer to heal." Nadia's mother called and informed me that they were relocating to another neighborhood because the memories of Nadia in their home were unbearable. She sent me some photos of Nadia from her childhood thru teenage years and although I grieved anew, I treasured them and still do to this day. On the first anniversary of Nadia's death, I was standing in the small Russian Orthodox cemetery where she was interred, and while I gazed forlornly at her grave, I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders. It was Ben and he was crying. Ben apologized for the intrusion and told me he wanted to pay his respects and our meeting was a coincidence. When he turned to leave, I asked him to stay with me and in the biting cold he held me as the tears flowed unabated down my face. Nearly another year had passed, when I informed Ben that I was contemplating accepting a teaching position in Oregon. With his help and support my emotional healing had progressed but the constant reminders of Nadia at home and at work were still difficult for me to bear. Ben's face was a picture of sadness. He was my closest friend and in reality, my best friend. "I don't want you to go." He pleaded. "Why?" I asked with real curiosity. "Because..." he stammered and with tears in his eyes was unable to go on. Then I remembered Nadia's comments about Ben's feelings for me and realized her intuition was correct. As I gazed at Ben, I touched my hand against the side of his face with affection. After the usual Friday happy hour, I asked Ben if he would come to my home for an informal dinner. My idea of an informal dinner was take out and we sat on the floor in front of the coffee table loaded with cartons of food. I experienced a feeling of contentment in Ben's presence similar to what I felt with Nadia. We were watching a movie on the television when I drifted off to sleep. For some reason, I woke when the credits were rolling and the lyrics of the song on the soundtrack caught my ear: "...every time you go away, you take a little piece of me with you...life goes on and I must find a way to carry on..." The lyrics pierced my heart like a knife and Ben held me as I bawled with my head on his shoulder. When I looked at Ben with my eyes dripping tears, his face betrayed his feelings of love. "Why don't you want me to go to Oregon?" I asked with a weepy voice. "I love you Cindy. I have for a long time." he declared with firm emotion. "Please don't go." He begged. I pulled him close and held him with tenderness. Although I wasn't sure of my feelings, I was willing to take a chance. The lyrics of the song made sense; I had to carry on. Though it was awkward at first, our dates were filled with laughter and happiness. He appreciated my biting tongue but usually countered with something positive. It was a part of me that I disliked but felt powerless to control. Every weekend was filled with Ben and his lame but funny jokes. I thought my brutal honesty about life and its disappointments would drive him away but he countered with optimistic observations of his own. And, that look of love never left his face, if anything it grew stronger with each passing week. Poor Ben, we had been dating for over a year and in all that time we only kissed and hugged after each date. From the start, he assured me that I could take as much time as I needed before anything of a sexual nature occurred. A thunderstorm kept us sitting in Ben's car after a fun night. I was kissing him with a lot more passion than usual and didn't realize the effect it might have on him. I relentlessly drove my tongue into his mouth and he moaned loudly with each intrusion. With our bodies pressed together and mine moving around against his...suddenly he jerked and I saw his expression change to one of sheepishness. "I'm sorry Cindy. Please don't be mad at me." He cried with anxiety. When I finally realized what happened, I made a couple of small but less than complimentary comments implying lack of self control. Ben's face had a wounded look and it touched me deeply. When I thought about the almost three years that we had been friends, I failed to remember him with a girlfriend or any girl for that matter. "How have you coped with the lack of sex for, what, almost three years?" I asked incredulously. "Do I have to explain, I mean all men, you know, ah...take matters into their own hands." He remarked shyly. With fierce determination, I drug Ben into my home and led him to the bathroom with orders to clean up. With Ben occupied, I stripped to my panties and jumped into bed. When Ben saw me in bed he just stared and looked frightened. With a towel around his waist and a long sleeved dress shirt his only attire, he looked almost comical but I wanted him. I wanted him badly. I threw back the covers and with my partially nude body on view, told Ben to get into bed. His body was barely touching mine when I attacked him and kissed him with fervor. My heart was beating wildly in my chest and I took charge of the proceedings. With one orgasm out of the way, I was hoping Ben had enough left to fuck me silly. I needn't have worried. When I mounted Ben, I looked at him and although he was average looking with an average body and penis size, I knew I loved him and that's all that mattered to me. After an exciting love making session, I recognized the fact that I had a lot more experience with sex and while we were talking set some basic ground rules. "I love you." He blurted out in a deeply expressive tone. Those three simple but enormously effective words made my blood surge thru my body and I wanted Ben again and again. Our future lovemaking required a lot of tutoring from me and Ben was an A+ student. With "on the job" training, he became a skillful and accomplished pussy eater. A bona fide necessity for me. Ben's expressed his love for me when we were together and I knew his love was genuine because he treated me as though I was the most important person in his life. His old fashion notions such as opening my car door and holding my hand as we walked down the street impressed me and made him more endearing. He treated me with the utmost respect and was sensitive to my feelings even though I was sometimes lacking towards his. I waited patiently for Ben to ask me to marry him. I was ready. By now I was over thirty years of age and was positive of my love and devotion for this wonderful man who filled the emptiness in my heart. On the fourth anniversary of Nadia's death, I stood at her grave and articulated my thoughts out loud in the empty cemetery. Ben had asked for my hand in marriage and with my voice cracking and filled with tears I spoke; "I love you Nadia, I always will. But, I love Ben too and I want to spend the rest of my life with him and have his children. You told me he had feelings for me and you were right. He was my friend first, then my best friend and lover. But, when you left me, you took a piece of me with you. A piece I would willingly give over and over again, my love. My heart has ached for the sight, the sound and the smell of you and it will ache till my dying day. If there is a merciful God, I will see your smiling face in paradise. I can think of no greater joy." My chest heaved with sobs as I walked out of the small cemetery. My love for Nadia was unconditional and everlasting. I had valued and cherished her above all others and no one, not even Ben could supplant her. With only a week before our wedding, I was holding Ben's head in my lap and as I gazed at his contented face, I remembered a quote from a famous author: "Life is a tale worth living." I wanted to live my life, to feel loved and love someone with all my heart. The ceremony at the non-sectarian chapel was presided over by a Rabbi and a Lutheran minister. Most of my friends were in attendance and Nicole, at my insistence brought her two children. When we turned to face our families and friends as husband and wife, half of the room yelled "Mazeltov" with gusto. After a brief honeymoon, Ben and I settled into our life together. An overpowering desire to have children had me screwing Ben often and I kept our sex life enjoyable and varied. While my childhood was happy, I felt lonely without brothers or sisters and having children was my number one priority. After one year of screwing like rabbits on Viagra, I saw the positive result on the EPT stick and cried with elation. Ben was ecstatic and I never saw him happier. And, here I arrive at the end of my tale but I think of it as a beginning because a precious new life grows inside my body. Maybe in the future there will be more tales to tell but for now, I plan on being hopelessly busy and devoted to my children and husband for the next thirty years or so.