Serendipity - Version Alpha
by Lubrican
Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Epilogue
Chapter Eight
I
think I gave a sigh of
relief when school started, and my days were no longer interrupted by
girls who
wanted to get naked with me. Plus the
weather got cool, and with the wind that's constant in Oklahoma, it
felt even
cooler. Everybody started wearing
clothing that covered them up, including Emma and Ashley.
I
had about a month of
relief until they showed up one night asking if they could do homework
at my
house, because there were too many distractions at their own homes.
What
they actually meant
was that they wanted someplace to get their homework done where they
could
control the distractions. That means me.
Emma
got finished one night
and, with a completely straight face, asked if she could practice
kissing
again. I honestly think that the reason
I agreed was because, considering all the sexual situations I'd been
involved
in with these two, it hadn't led to going to bed with anyone.
And that gave me a false sense of security.
So
I ended up on the couch
again with Emma, kissing her every way I could think of.
And when she whispered she was going to
practice something else, and her hand fumbled with my belt and zipper,
it was
obvious she needed some practice, so I let her do that while I
kissed
her some more. Which is how I ended up
with her hand gripping my hard, hot boner while my hand ended up
rubbing her
breasts outside her clothing.
She
raised her shirt to
reveal bare breasts, and went on kissing me.
"My
turn," said
Ashley, interrupting us.
"Go
away,"
mumbled Emma.
"My
turn!"
insisted Ashley.
Ashley
wanted to grip my
prick too. But She didn't want my hand under her shirt. Rather, perhaps because her hand was in my pants, she wanted my hand in her pants too.
Which
is how a new
tradition was born.
From
that night on,
whenever one showed up to do homework at my house ... the other did not.
They
didn't come every
night. Rather, I had a girl in my house
a couple of times a week, who dutifully did her homework before seeking
an
orgasm in my arms.
To
be fair, they never
failed to get me off too.
By October, the water was plenty hot, and the frog still had no idea he was being cooked.
New Year's Eve was my eventual undoing. I hadn't planned on doing anything in particular that night, but the two musketeers invited themselves to the party I hadn't realized I was going to give. They had both been dating pretty regularly by then, and apparently their parents thought
that was going well. They arranged to
have the night free by the time honored ruse of each telling her
parents that
she was spending the night with the other. That was true, except that they spent it together at my house.
They
didn't tell me that,
of course. What they told me was that they
had included me on their list of places to go during the evening, and
they
wanted to include me in their celebration.
Both were eighteen now, which meant they could legally buy 3. 2
percent
beer, and they'd brought some of that with them.
I'm
not much of a beer
person. I'm more of a whisky kind of
guy, so while we watched the festivities on TV and they sipped beer, I
had some Jack Daniels, with a splash of Coke. And then some Rebel Yell
sour mash, which is pretty good sipping whiskey at room temperature. And then I moved on to
scotch, first straight and then with a little Drambuie and a couple of ice cubes in it. This was facilitated by the
girls, who snuggled next to me on the couch in front of the flat screen
and
asked questions about what things tasted like.
Naturally,
they wanted to taste
things.
And
yes, we all got a
little tipsy.
It
wasn't unusual for me to
get the blow by blow, no pun intended, of some of those dates, as they
were
"reenacted" with me in the privacy of my den. During
a commercial break, with the TV muted,
Ashley decided to reenact her last date, which was with a football
player who
apparently pushed the envelope. Which,
when it comes to Ashley, means he got rough with her.
She pulled me on top of her on one end of the
couch and spread her legs, pulling me into the classic man on top
position. She spread her legs and
wrapped them around me. Mind you, we
were fully clothed, so the non-inebriated cells in my brain didn't
think there
was any danger.
"He
got me like this,
in the back seat," she said, thrusting her loins up against mine.
"And he was dry fucking me."
She
started pulling at my
hips, until I began rubbing my cock against her crotch.
I wasn't hard ... yet ... but I could still
feel her jeans as my cock slid past them.
"And
he had my blouse
open. Wait a minute," she said,
pushing at me until I did a pushup. Her
hands flicked to her shirt and undid buttons.
Suddenly her bare breasts were on display.
She pulled me down again and got me
rubbing. "Just like this,"
she panted.
"What
did you
do?" asked Emma, breathlessly. I
felt her hand on my ass, helping me rub against Ashley.
"At
first it felt
pretty good," said Ashley.
"Kind of like it does right now.
I actually like it when Bob does it."
She
thrust her pussy
against my rubbing bulge and her hands pulled and pushed at my hips.
"I
actually think I
might be able to cum this way," she panted.
By
then I was hard, and the
bottom of my cock was firmly massaging the cloth that covered her pussy.
"So
what did you
do?" asked Emily, reminding her friend to continue the story.
"I
told him I wanted
him to suck my tits," breathed Ashley.
Her
hands left my hips and
came to my head, where they exerted downward pressure.
My brain had heard her say "suck my
tits" and that's what I ended up doing.
I had never done this with either Emma or Ashley, so the newness
of it
penetrated my brain.
And
my libido.
Pretty
soon she was
writhing under me, and I heard her say something like, "He's really
good
at this, Em!"
And
when Ashley finally
pushed me away ... there was Emma ... topless ... wanting to see what
my mouth
felt like on her nipples, so she could compare that to "the
others." And I should have known
that "the others" she was referring to were Caitlin and Ashley, but
what I thought of then, were the boys she had dated, and the wolf in me
came
out, wanting to scare all the other wolves away.
Cutting
to the chase, about
an hour later we were all naked and I was eating pussy instead of
sipping
scotch. Had I spent enough time doing
that, I might have sobered up enough to realize that, while I was
licking up
Emma's delicious passion juice, someone was unrolling a condom on my
penis. In my defense, they had both been
taking turns sucking me, and the delicate installation of a condom on a
stiff
penis might be construed as the very light touch of a pair of lips.
And
then Emma wanted her
nipples sucked again, and when I went to rub her pussy with my dick
again, this
time a hand appeared to guide my penis ... which is where their
carefully
thought out plan went awry.
This
is because, you see, I
had planned on rubbing my cock against her pussy. That's
what had happened once before. In fact, I
had done that to both of them,
being careful not to do anything more.
So when I approached her with my hips, I did so with some force.
And when Ashley plugged the condom-sheathed
tip of my prick between Emma's pretty pussy lips, the force applied was
much
more than either they or I would have used had I known what I was about
to do.
Her
groan of pain caught my
attention about the same time as my prick communicated to my brain that
something unbelievably tight was now clamped around it.
I did a pushup, but only with my upper
torso. My hips weren't included.
I think that's because another part of my
brain was encouraging me to keep going.
Anyway, when I did the pushup, my hips actually sagged, which
only
seated me more firmly in her pulsing clasp.
"Oh
shit," she
groaned.
"What?"
was my limited response.
I
started to withdraw as my
brain finally reacted, but Ashley's hands on my butt pushed, keeping me
embedded.
"Don't
take it out of
her," she panted. "It's only her second one, but she'll get
used to it."
"What?"
I
muttered again.
"Move
around!"
ordered Ashley.
"Oh,"
I
said. In my slightly fogged brain, the decision to follow instructions was easier than to actually think about things. So I moved around.
Instinct made me do it the same way I had with Caitlin, meaning
my hips
went in little circles.
"Oh shit!" gasped Emma.
But
her hips thrust up at
me.
I
can assert that, over the
years, I was pretty good about walking the high road, when it came to
young
women. I'm not including fantasizing
about girls I had seen in the past.
Every man does that, including men of the cloth.
We're all human, after all. But I
hadn't indulged in those
fantasies. Of course, truth be told, one
of the primary reasons I hadn't gone after the young and the beautiful,
was
because sometimes women can be a pain in the ass, and beautiful women
excel at that. With young women, the
problem is more that they have no idea what they want out of life,
which
translates to not knowing what they want from a man.
And while they think about what they want ...
it changes.
But
there was also a moral
component to my assiduous avoidance of sticking my dick in women under the age of, say, roughly twenty.
Until
Caitlin, of course.
Call
her the chink in my
armor, or the hole in the dam or whatever metaphor you want to choose,
but
Caitlin had unlocked a bit of knowledge in my mind that altered my
perception
of things on a number of levels. And
that bit of knowledge is that young girls, before the world (and men in
particular) causes them to become jaded, enjoy sex on a fundamental,
almost
instinctive level. Of course that is
contingent on choosing to enter into sexual union with a man.
And liking him, I suppose.
It's less complicated for men. A
man will fuck just about anybody, including another man if he's in prison.
And
that's where civilized
society comes into the equation.
Cultural rules are there to mitigate chaotic, unregulated sexual behavior.
And you can't blame it on the Puritans,
because it's that way in the vast majority of cultures the Puritans had
nothing
to do with.
Unless
you count all those
missionaries, who so ardently spread across the globe to enforce
civilization
on the unwashed. Which included the
demand that the only acceptable way of procreating was in the
missionary
position. That's a bit ironic.
Unless you suppose that the missionaries
demonstrated.
But
I digress. My point was supposed to be
that I had
resisted the musketeers, more on moral grounds than anything else.
And while many may just call it an excuse, I
firmly believe the only reason things ended up the way they did was
because
Caitlin put a chink in my armor.
And
then the other two, on
New Year's Eve, got me entirely out of my armor.
I
will claim to my dying
day that they tricked me, but that's really kind of silly, because the
fact is
that Emma was completely normal when it came to enjoying having sex
with a guy
she really liked.
Actually,
she sort of went
batshit.
And,
actually, it was a
good thing Ashley was there with both hands planted firmly on my butt
cheeks,
because when Emma went batshit, it took our combined weights to keep me
where
Emma now fervently wanted me.
To
be honest, I suspect
that a lot of that early intensity was because she'd been scared she
wasn't going
to like it, and when that fear was crushed almost instantly, the
joy that
generated was like the spark that tips a demonstration into a riot.
I think she went from fear and anxiety
straight into dopamine overload.
And
so you understand why
I'm nattering on about all this, it's because most men don't actually
remember
what a girl is like at the point where she not only understands the joy
of sex,
but is addicted to it as well. For most
men, their early sexual experiences are with girls who are scared,
and
who do feel guilty. Those
experiences are often hurried and uncomfortable, and there is an
attempt to
return to normalcy as quickly as possible once the deed is done.
And by the time most men meet the woman they
decide to stay with (and vice versa), the jading influence of the world
has
already begun its cancerous work to crush her girlish spirit.
Most
men don't really know
what it's like to make love with a girl who is totally uninhibited
about it,
and eager to wring as much joy from the experience as possible.
And
that's what Emma was
suddenly doing, that night. She was
trying to wring as much joy from our semi unexpected union as possible.
She
had an orgasm about the
time my brain caught up with what was actually going on.
I don't think I ever sobered up that fast
before. But sober up I did, as she went
batshit under me. Sweet, shy, quiet
little Emma sounded like she was being murdered, except it was obvious
to all
of us that she approved of her demise.
And
that's when the armor
fell off of me, or the dam broke or whatever metaphor you were using
happened,
and I gave in to my urge to just fuck the brains out of little Emma
Wilkinson.
It's
hard to describe this,
but there is apparently some kind of difference between being madly in
love
with a woman while you engage in coitus, and just doing it with someone
you
really like a lot. By that, I mean I
always had trouble keeping myself from exploding in Caitlin.
Maybe the urge to mate with her drove me to
broadcast my seed, with her.
But
with Emma it was
different. Maybe it was because I had on
that condom, which muted the feel a bit.
I could still feel her heat through the latex, but she was "too
smooth". Plus, when I'm wearing a
condom, my foreskin doesn't move backwards and forwards over the glans
of my
penis, which robs me of significant stimulation. Then again, maybe it was just
because it was so much fun watching her that I didn't want it to end.
It
was a little hard to
tell the difference between her exuberance and an actual orgasm.
She turned into a foul mouthed little thing
when she got my dick in her. But
somewhere around her third orgasm or so, she groaned, "I am going to be
in
so much trouble with Kat!"
"Why?"
I
panted. By then Caitlin's permission for
me to "play" with her friends was firmly uppermost in my mind.
"Because
I think I
love you," she wailed.
"My
turn then,"
came a hot voice in my ear.
That
was the first time I
realized that Ashley had been riding me like a tube behind a ski boat,
laying
out on my back, rubbing her pussy on my butt, the entire time Emma had
been
making all those noises.
"Oh,
shit that
was intense," panted Emma, who was kneeling on the bed beside us as I
hovered over Ashley and she directed my sheath-covered penis toward her
sexual
opening.
"Ohhhh
yeahhhh,"
groaned Ashley as I slid into her in one relatively slow thrust.
Remembering her hands on my ass, I gave her a
few rotations, staying deep inside her.
"I
don't know about
him," she gasped, "but I know I love doing this."
"I
didn't know,"
said Emma, whose hand came to stroke my back.
"Of
course you
knew," panted Ashley. "I've
told you lots of times."
"I
mean how wonderful
it is," said Emma. "How fantastic it is! It wasn't like that with my cousin at all, Ashley. Oh, I'm in so much trouble. I'm going to want to do that every day! I already want to do it again
right now! What am I going to do, Ash?"
"We'll
talk about this
later," gasped Ashley. "I'm
busy right now."
And
she was busy, but
Ashley's response to having me in her was both different and the same,
compared
to her friend. Ashley had done this before. But she had only done it
with her brother, infrequently. And
while they were resigned, I suppose, to the fear of discovery, they
were still
limited as to the venues in which they could indulge their shared lust.
It's possible they had never been able to be
completely carefree as they rutted together.
So while she was used to having a
penis in her, at least enough times that it wasn't a novel feeling, she was not used to being in a completely
safe environment, with no cares of being discovered, and free to be as
loud as
she wanted to be. Plus I think she liked
being watched, at least by Emma, who was, after all, her only other
lover. At least when my niece wasn't in
town.
So
Ashley came a little
unglued too, though not nearly to the extent Emma had.
Still, it was just as much fun watching her
react to the various techniques I pulled out of my sexual bag of tricks.
I could tell, with her, exactly when she fell
over the cliff and went into orgasmic convulsions.
Hers were much different than Emma's had
been. With Emma, when she came, she
bucked like a trained bronco. Ashley was
much more muted, at least on the outside.
Even
through the condom I
could feel the effects of what I'd heard of, but never experienced.
Ashley
had a snapping
pussy.
And
it was that snapping
pussy that finally coaxed the nectar from my balls.
It was time, though. She'd had
three orgasms in half the time it
had taken Emma to have hers. I think
part of that was because she "knew how" to reach for them.
But the combined "exercises" had
been going on for twenty minutes or so, and I was beginning to feel the
effects
of lactic acid buildup in my lower back, and pecks, and even my neck.
So
the fourth time her
pussy milked me, I gave up control and filled the condom.
I
will confess to you nice
people that, at that moment, I hated condoms and wished she could feel
the heat
of my offering, just as I had luxuriated in the heat of her core.
As
I froze, deep inside
her, and spurted harmlessly into the tip of the condom, Ashley put her
hands on
my shoulders and pulled me down for a kiss.
Emma
had
"practiced" kissing me at least a dozen times that night.
It was one of her new "traditions"
with me these days.
But
this was the first time
I had kissed Ashley since Caitlin had gone back to California.
You
might think things were
a little awkward after the passion seeped out of the situation.
And I suppose you'd be right, but only when I
said, "We shouldn't have done that."
"Yes
we should,"
said Ashley.
We
were sitting on the
couch, with one of them on either side of me.
My arms were around both of them and we were all still stark
naked. The dropping of the ball had come
and
gone. It's a little ironic that, as they
dropped the ball in New York, I was dropping the ball in Oklahoma.
Pun
intended.
"Kat
said we could do
this," Ashley continued.
"I
am in so much
trouble," moaned Emma.
"You
don't love
him," snorted Ashley. "You
just got excited. That's normal."
"You
don't
understand," said Emma.
"You
can't have
him," said Ashley, with warning in her voice.
"I
don't want to
have him," sighed Emma. "I
just want to fuck him every day for the rest of my life."
Take
my word for it, the
word "fuck" issuing from shy Emma's mouth, and so casually to boot,
shocked me almost more than what had just happened.
It was the first "dirty word" I'd
ever heard her say. And it came out so
casually that I just knew she had used it many times before.
That was when I began to understand that what
the world saw, when it looked at Emma, wasn't necessarily who Emma
really was,
down deep inside.
"You
can't do it that
often," said Ashley, who sounded like she was just giving her friend a
little advice, rather than discussing my sexual future.
"You've got it bad enough for him
already. If you do it too much, you'll
end up like Kat, and then she really would be pissed off at
you."
"What
does that
mean?" I asked, feeling left out.
Ashley
turned her head the
fraction it took for her eyes to meet mine.
"Kat's so in love with you she'll do anything to be able to be with you. She'd even do stupid things to be with you."
"Stupid
things?"
"Like
blow off college
and moving here and getting a job at Walmart or something."
"She
can't do
that," I said, tensing up.
"I
know," said
Ashley. "And I don't think she
will, as long as she knows you'll wait for her."
"What
does that mean?"
I asked.
"She
worries that
you'll meet some woman who will sweep you off your feet," said
Ashley. "That's probably the main reason she said
we could play with you. If you're busy
with us, then you won't be horny and go looking around."
"That's
ridiculous," I said.
"Are
you horny right
now?" she asked, rubbing her naked breast against my shoulder.
"Not
particularly," I lied. My penis
gave me away, though, as it moved in my lap.
"And
it's our job to
see you stay that way," said Ashley.
"You've been a pain in the ass about it until now.
Finally, we can do something for the
cause."
"And
the cause
is?"
"Holding
Kat's
baby," she said, as calmly as if she announced she was thirsty and was
going to go get something to drink.
"Your baby," she added.
I
didn't know what to
say. Obviously the girls had discussed
my future in more detail than Caitlin and I had. I
think I had just assumed that she'd get
over her crush on me sooner or later.
There's something about a handsome, interesting college stud
that turns
the head of most women, young or old.
But the thought of spending the rest of my life with Caitlin
wasn't an
unhappy thought in any way. The only
difference was that for me, I think it was still in the fantasy realm.
But for Caitlin, it was an actual plan.
And
she'd enlisted the
other two musketeers to make sure I didn't get distracted.
The
only fly in that
ointment was that her friends were only supposed to have fun while they
kept me
occupied.
And
Emma was having too
much fun.
Already.
"I
see," I
finally said.
"Good,"
said
Ashley. "I'm going to go get
something to drink. Anybody want
anything?"
She
stood up, an almost
grown, leggy brunette who, besides being naked at the moment, had that
sultry,
satisfied look of a woman whose sexual appetite has been sated.
Her pussy lips were still flushed and red
from the friction of our lovemaking.
"I'm
fine," I
said.
"Nothing
for me,"
said Emma.
Ashley
left the room,
whereupon Emma twisted to lie across my lap, facing me, with her arms
around my
neck. It seemed almost normal to kiss
her. She dragged her lips away from mine
almost reluctantly.
"How
long before it's
hard again?" she asked.
My
penis let her know by
swelling against her side.
They
slept with me that
night. By morning, not only had the dam
broken, there was no hope of ever rebuilding it. Part
of that was because that cemented the
casual informality that would characterize our relationship from that
day
forward. They'd become more or less
casual about skinny-dipping in the pool.
Now that casual attitude toward nudity was extended into the
house.
But
something else happened
that night that caused Caitlin's plan to expand into a different
dimension than
she had anticipated. And that was that,
when each girl woke up in the night and wanted to take advantage of the
fact
there was a naked man in bed with her, neither girl took the time to
sheathe my
cock in another condom.
It's
understandable,
really. It's dark, and you just woke up,
and you're horny and it's just so easy to simply mount your stud (which
is what
Ashley did) or pull him over on top of you, loving the still new
feeling of a
man's weight on your body as you are filled, delightfully.
And stopping to turn on a light and find the
packet, and open it and fumble the thing onto that penis ... well ...
it breaks
the mood. It's just so much easier to
roll over and make love.
And
that's what we did.
And
this time there was no
loss of sensation, and after each girl had had an orgasm, I creamed her.
I'm being truthful when I say I thought about
it before I did it and felt bad for spurting in their naked,
defenseless
pussies.
I'll
also be truthful
enough to admit I loved doing it.
I
don't want you to think
that I suddenly lived the life of a sultan, with a harem to choose a
woman from
to warm my bed each night. It wasn't
like that at all.
For
one thing Ashley
appointed herself the scheduler of events, so to speak.
And I'm pretty sure she was fully aware of
the dates of last periods when she made up the schedule.
That one night of getting spunked bareback made a big
impression on her. That was the last
time there was no condom, by the way, mood or no mood.
Thankfully, neither girl ended up being impregnated
by that one night of surrender to passion. And
Ashley wanted to keep
it that way. So I think she scheduled
things so that, even if there was an "accident" it would be less
likely to do any real harm.
Which
means, in the end,
that I only had female companionship in the bedroom to "keep me
honest" about once every couple of weeks.
It
was astonishing, now
that I look back on it. They still came
over to do homework. Now both of them
kissed me hello and goodbye, and they were lusty, energetic kisses.
There was a lot of pressing their bodies
against me, and rubbing up against me, but they also made it clear when
the
line had been drawn. They knew I could
handle things myself. Ashley even said
that one night when, after one of those lusty kisses, and my hands were
on her
breasts, she pushed away and said, "Not tonight. You
can think about me when you jerk off,
though. And I promise I'll do the same
thing while I'm rubbing in my bed."
"You
could rub right
here," I suggested.
She
grinned. "No I can't, and you shouldn't
tempt
me."
I
wasn't to find out for
half a decade that they were in constant contact with Caitlin, either
via email
or Skype, and that she knew each time one of them milked me.
That's what they called it!
It was their code word or something. All
one of them would say was "I milked
Bob for you today." No details were
discussed, not even whether the "milking" was done orally or
vaginally. They just gave the code word
and went on to talk about whatever else they talked about.
Conversely,
it was never
discussed or even alluded to in our own emails and Skype sessions.
I usually Skyped with her once a week,
because those sessions were time consuming.
But I always tried to see her on Skype on the days I got
"milked." Of course I didn't know she
knew, but she
later told me how good it made her feel to know that even though I'd
just
gotten laid, who I wanted to see and talk to was her.
Even now I have a hard time understanding how
that worked. If I'd known she'd spread
her thighs for some other man, I'd have been so jealous I would have
gotten
into a fight with her every time we talked.
Of
course there were the
requisite "I wish you were here" kinds of comments between us, just
as there always are during enforced separations of lovers.
Maybe because I meant that when I said it,
she somehow accepted the fact that her friends had access to my bed,
while she
did not.
She
claims the two
vibrators she wore out during her senior year helped, but even now I
marvel at
the kind of relationship between three young women that could prosper
under
those conditions.
Anyway,
I wasn't swimming
in sex, and Emma calmed down and instead of saying she loved me, said
things
like "It would be so easy to fall in love with you, but I
won't." She usually said that just
before she said something else, like "Don't you dare stop yet.
I'm almost there."
Even
so, it was a very
interesting semester.
Which
led to the worst
summer of my life.
Actually,
it was mixed,
when I think back on it.
Caitlin
did apply to some
colleges, and she got two acceptance letters.
She was offered an academic scholarship at Texas Tech, but that
was
books and tuition only. Her parents
wanted to minimize student loans, what with all the horror stories
about them
that had been in the media over the last couple of years.
So, after graduation, she had to work to save
up money for living expenses.
Which
meant there was no
month long vacation at Uncle Bob's house that year.
She tried, but her mother said, "It's
time to grow up, Darling. Welcome to the
adult world, where you have responsibilities and sometimes we have to
forego
luxuries like frittering away a month while you turn Bob's life upside
down."
I
think she meant that as a
joke. It would be a little longer before
she found out just how upside down her daughter had turned my world.
She
Skyped me to give me
this news. It wasn't the greatest Skype
session we'd had. In one sense she was
the adult at the time, because she tried to reassure me that this
wasn't
actually bad news.
"I'm
going to major in
architecture," she said, clearly excited.
"When I graduate, maybe we can work together."
"I'd
like that,"
I said, dismally. "That's going to
be a long time away, though."
"It
doesn't have to
be," she said. "Elk City is
only four hours from Lubbock. We can get
together on weekends."
"That
means eight
hours of driving," I said.
"That's eight hours I'd rather be with you."
She
tilted her head which,
on Skype, made it look like her neck might have broken.
"Well
... you can work
in Texas just as easily as you do in Oklahoma," she said.
"Move
to
Texas?" Moving wasn't on my bucket
list. Then again, going without Kat
wasn't on my list either. "Just for
four years?"
I
don't know why I said it
that way. I guess I was thinking of
"college"
as a temporary relocation for Caitlin, which meant if I pulled up
stakes and
moved to Lubbock to be with her, that would be temporary for me too.
Moving twice in four years definitely
wasn't on my bucket list.
"I
imagine I'll stay
in Texas after college," she said, her head still tilted.
"Why?"
I
asked. I was still in a blue funk,
feeling sorry for myself for not hosting my niece that summer.
Otherwise I might have tumbled to what she
was thinking before she had to tell me.
"It's
one of the states
that allows an uncle to marry his niece," she reminded me.
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