Finding Tim
A Fourth Alternate Reality

 by: Charlie

© 2005-2008

 

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Episode 38
Lida

This is Lida; Harry’s Lida.  And please don’t ask, “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a story like this?”  Thank God, I outgrew the notion that sex was dirty back in high school.  Don’t get me wrong, that doesn’t mean that I let everything in pants get inside my pants.  In fact, I was a virgin when I graduated from Minot High School.   But I had been pretty intimate with a couple of boys, the first in my Junior year.  He was a Senior, and we–quite rightly–decided that a college-high school romance was a stupid idea.  We both agreed that if it was true love we would still be in love when we both got to college, or after college, or whenever.  I saw him at Christmas my Freshman year of college: he had a girlfriend, and I wondered what he saw in her, and what I had seen in him.  I think he wondered the same about me. 

 

In my Senior year I dated Orie–short for Ormond, which he hated, and I can’t say that I blame him.  Orie and I realized that we weren’t in love, but that we enjoyed each other, and liked dating each other.  We really didn’t think that high school was the time to fall in love.  With that freedom–it really was freedom:  My girlfriends were constantly tied in knots over who was in love with whom, and more importantly how could they say “No” to the demands of their “true loves” for sex?  With that freedom, Orie and I could talk about anything.  We talked about what it meant to fall in love, about sex, about the silly rules of society that said you had to hide your bodies, and on and on.  If you were lucky you were able to have those conversations in high school; and if you were really lucky you were able to have them with someone of the opposite sex.

 

Well, of course, Orie and I quickly agreed that the rules about clothes were really Victorian.  But we found that saying it, and doing something about it, were two different things.  However, one afternoon at my house–both of my parents worked full time jobs with regular hours–we sort of played “doctor.”  Looking easily moved to touching, and before long Orie had made quite a mess.  I was totally unprepared for it, and he was incredibly embarrassed.  But we were able to look at ourselves and laugh rather than get angry.

 

The conversation–we cleaned him up but kept our clothes off–turned to just how far we were willing to let our sexual experimentation go.  Our friends all talked about fucking and being fucked, and we thought that some of them actually were.  We both had enough sense to know that pregnancy was always a possibility, and we weren’t about to risk it.  We knew about condoms–Orie said that you could buy them in the men’s rooms of most gas stations–but really didn’t think we wanted that.  Nor was I ready to talk to a doctor about the pill. 

 

The next afternoon we were together Orie asked about a girl’s orgasms.  I did the best I could to explain, but showing him seemed to make more sense.  I let him explore me with his fingers, and then showed him my clitoris.  He got the idea, and I had the first orgasm that I ever had with another person. 

 

This got to be a regular pattern in the afternoon after school.  Neither one of us was up to oral sex.  We did talk about it, and I think both of us liked the idea of the other using his or her mouth, but not our own.  Having Orie’s dick in my mouth simply didn’t turn me on, and he had no interest in putting his tongue in my cunt.  We tried toes!  Hey, they work better than elbows.

 

One of my closest girlfriends, Jude, and I talked a lot, and we didn’t have many secrets.  She knew that Orie and I were having sex on our afternoon visits, and she sort of half believed that we weren’t fucking.  Her boyfriend, Paul, was trying hard to get inside her pants.  Well, his hands had been there, but he had other things in mind, starting with getting her pants off.  She quite rightly was worried that if she let him go that far that it would be hard to stop–for either of them.  One night the two of us were talking late–I’m not sure where Paul and Orie were–not together, they didn’t know each other very well.  In any case, one night Jude very hesitantly asked if I would let Paul and her join Orie and me having sex.  Would Orie mind? 

 

I was flabbergasted.  I had never had any idea of having group sex, not even two pairs together.  But Jude made a good point, “If what you and Orie do is OK–especially when you say your aren’t in love–why would doing it in a room where Paul and I were doing the same thing not be OK?”

“But you and Paul don’t do anything like that!”

 

“I know, but I’d like to be able to go that far.  With you and Orie there, we would have limits.”

 

“You hope.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I’m not comfortable with this idea.”

 

“Please talk to Orie.”

 

“OK.  Have you talked to Paul?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What did he say?”

 

“He said, ‘If that’s the only way I can get your pants off, I’m game.’”

 

“OK, I’ll talk to Orie.”

 

The next afternoon I raised the subject with Orie.  I was really surprised by his reaction: “That sounds interesting.  You know, Jude’s right, I don’t see how Paul and Jude being around changes the morality of what we do.  If we’re comfortable together, why not with four.  Can we trust Jude and Paul to not tell everyone in school?”

 

“Yes, we can.  I know Jude, and she’s confident abut Paul.”

 

It was about a week before the four of us could get together at my house after school.  We all sat around and drank 7-Ups, and talked about everything but what was on everyone’s mind.  Then Orie spoke out.  “OK, Jude, according to Lida, this was your idea.  So put up or shut up.  Take off your clothes.”

 

I’m not sure Jude was ready for that, but Paul was grinning from ear to ear.  Orie noticed, and said, “Paul, you’re next.  You can start by helping Jude if she needs help.”

 

That was all the prompting that either Paul or Jude needed, and quickly Paul was helping Jude take off her clothes.  He was so nervous as he tried to unhook her bra that we weren’t sure he was going to make it.  Finally she was standing there in her panties.  I said, “OK, Paul.  Before you pull them down, get your own clothes off.”

 

Finally! they were both in underwear.  Orie decided that things had to move a little faster and he went over to Paul and jerked his shorts down to his ankles.  Then he did the same to Jude’s panties. 

 

Then Jude said, “We want to see what you two do, if you don’t fuck.  Please.”

 

We stripped and showed them.  I know that Jude understood the idea of a boy ejaculating, but seeing it was completely new to her and really startled her.  As they watched Orie pleasure me, particularly my clit, and watched me have a serious orgasm, Jude looked shocked.  I realized that she had never had an orgasm; she had evidently never masturbated, or at least not to a climax.  Orie had Paul lie down on a bed and guided Jude in giving him an orgasm.  Then I gave Paul a tour of Jude’s genitalia, and showed him how to give her pleasure.  Her first orgasm wasn’t far behind.

 

Paul and Jude were completely embarrassed.  They had gotten what they wanted but weren’t sure that they wanted it.  They dressed rather quickly and headed to Jude’s house.   Orie and I were afraid that we might never see them again, or at least not be friends.  We kissed, got dressed, played chess (our favorite game), and greeted my parents as they arrived.  Though in some circles it wasn’t acceptable for a boy and a girl to be alone in a house together, my parents accepted it as a necessity when both parents worked.  Orie joined us for dinner, and then headed home to study. 

 

My parents were pretty liberal and open-minded.  I had taken a chance and told them of Orie’s and my relationship about a month before.  Since they had assumed that Orie and I were fucking, learning that we weren’t was a relief for them, rather then a problem!  Despite my mother thinking I was having intercourse, she hadn’t had the nerve to talk about birth control!  What a time to be living in!  I had raised the subject of sex, not them.  But the conversation went well, and we were closer for it.  Now, I wasn’t at all sure whether to tell them about the adventures of Lida, Orie, Jude and Paul!

 

The next day at school Jude came up to me in the hall and whispered, “Paul and I want to do it again.”

 

“You don’t need Orie and me.”

 

“But it was fun.  How about tomorrow after school?”

 

“I’ll check with Orie, but it’ll probably be OK.”

 

It was, and a several month adventure of four-way sex was started.  It wasn’t very many days before I helped Jude take care of Paul.  And soon it was routine for two boys to pleasure one girl and then the other, with the girls doing the boys in pairs as well. 

 

Three on one followed, with the realization that there was a homosexual element to that.  This brought us up short, and led to the first serious conversation that the four of us had about what we were doing.  The gist of the conversation, which ranged widely and displayed a tremendous amount of ignorance about homosexuality, was that we would try pairing off boy-boy and girl-girl and see what happened and how we liked it.

 

Guess what?  A girl’s hand on my clit was just as interesting as a boy’s.  And a boy’s hand on a prick was just as interesting, and exciting, as a girl’s.  The next thing I knew Orie had Paul’s dick in his mouth and Paul was having the time of his life.  He came in Orie’s mouth and Orie headed to the bathroom to spit it out!  But he came back grinning, and urged Paul to suck him.  Paul did, and damned if Paul didn’t swallow Orie’s cum. 

 

From then until graduation, just about everything that you can think of was tried–except intercourse, of either kind.  We all agreed up front that that, along with babies, was off limits.  Jude’s and my favorite game was for Jude to stand in front of both boys and grab their dicks.  I got behind and reached between their legs and got their balls.  Sometimes we would tell the boys to try not to come, and sometimes they would race to come.  The loser would often be treated rather roughly by the other three!  And he usually had to suck both of us girls.  Sometimes when they raced, the loser was tormented by bringing him close to climax, and then not letting him come. 

 

We girls came in for our share of the teasing as well.  And one day Paul produced a pair of rubber dildos.  I won the prize by having the first dildo orgasm, and my prize was getting to finish the job on Jude.  We tried them on the boys’ asses, but we weren’t very successful.  We didn’t really understand that girls’ cunts are self-lubricating, and boys asses aren’t!

 

All good things, or bad things, come to an end.  That included high school and the further adventures of Lida, Jude, Paul and Orie.  Paul and Jude both went to Morehead State, and married after graduation.  I really didn’t keep in touch with them much.  I think they were embarrassed about their sexual history with Orie and me, and kept aloof.  Orie headed off to the University of Michigan, and we’ve kept in touch.  We explored each other’s bodies again on a couple of vacation times back in Minot, but we both realized that the love spark still wasn’t there.  He finally found a girl in Ann Arbor.  He wrote and told me about her, and admitted that he hadn’t had the nerve to tell her about his high school adventures.  He was sure that she would be shocked and wouldn’t approve.  I couldn’t imagine his being interested in a girl with that attitude–it wasn’t the Orie I knew–but I wished him well.  I’ve never met her; in fact, I don’t know her name.  I haven’t seen Orie since.

 

Why am I telling you all of this?  Well, if I’m going to tell you about Harry and me, I thought you had better know my history.

 

Harry’s sexual history is almost as interesting.  He grew up in Fargo and attended Fargo North, Billy Carson’s future high school.  Harry was their top diver, and girls liked him.  He played the field, and definitely wasn’t a virgin when he graduated.  More importantly, neither was he a father.  He had used condoms even if the girl assured him that she was on the pill. 

 

Of much more importance in defining who he was, he had had a homosexual relationship, off and on, for the last three years of high school with one of the other divers.  The boy had approached him one day after school, and simply asked if Harry had ever had sex with anyone.  At that time Harry hadn’t, and said so.  “Neither have I,” said Art.  “Let’s try it.”  It was pretty bold for 1959, especially in the Midwest. 

 

“Let me think about it,” answered Harry.  And he did.

 

About a week later he and Art were alone in the shower after diving practice.  Harry had stayed late to practice a difficult dive, and Art had stayed as well.  Art admitted later that he had stayed with Harry to allow to happen exactly what did happen.  Art came over to Harry in the shower and said, “Want me to wash your back?”

 

Harry didn’t tumble, and simply said, “Sure.”  He turned his back to Art and let him wash his back.  Art did, and then gently turned Harry around to face him.  Harry saw that Art had a hard-on and immediately understood the situation.  Harry had thought about Art’s question of a week before, and had been debating it.  He decided to let Art go ahead.  He said, “You can wash whatever you’d like.”

 

Art said, “You sure?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You know where this is going, right?’

 

“Right.”

 

Art took the bar of soap and rubbed his own genitals, using his pubic hair to lather up a lot of suds.  He used these to soap up Harry’s dick and balls.  Harry reached over and grabbed Art’s dick and squeezed.  Then he said, “Art, I don’t think the shower room is the place for this.  Let’s rinse, get out, get dressed, and talk.”

 

“Sure.”

 

Harry found that watching Art rinse, get out, dry off, and dress was very different when there was something consciously sexual about it.  He was glad the coach didn’t come in, because he remained as hard as a rock till he was dressed and tucked his boner inside his pants, sticking up under his belt.

 

They lived not far from each other, and walked home together.  Art was so eager he could hardly contain himself.  Harry wasn’t much better.  Both of their parents would be home, so they decided to meet at a nearby park right after dinner, when it would still be light.  They both knew the park well, and had no trouble finding a safe place to “play.”  Clothes came off, hands went to work, and cum decorated bodies soon ensued. 

 

This was the first adventure of many that would extend over three years.  Harry’s mother had died of cancer a couple of years before, and Harry lived with his father.  Afternoons the house was always empty, and that’s where he and Art played.  Inevitably they were “caught” one afternoon when Harry’s father, Phil, had come home early.  Both boys were nude in the living room, and couldn’t really pretend to be doing anything other than what they were doing–getting ready to have sex.

 

Phil was a pretty cool guy, and a good father to Harry.  Instead of exploding, which’s what Art was sure his father would’ve done, Phil had simply said, “I think we could talk about this better if you boys had clothes on.”  Their clothes were upstairs in Harry’s room and so they went up and dressed.

 

“What’s going to happen?” asked Art.

 

“Damned if I know,” said Harry.

 

They went back downstairs and Phil was sitting in the living room waiting for them.  Phil said, “I think the truth is the most important thing here, boys.  Who’s going to start?”

 

Art spoke right up–and I think Harry loved him for this more than anything else he ever did.  “Sir, I’m homosexual.  I asked Harry to have sex with me one day at school.  He thought about it about a week, and then agreed.  We’ve done it together often since.  It’s strictly my initiative.”

 

“Harry, are you homosexual?”

 

“I don’t know.  I like having sex with Art.  I like having sex with girls.  You know that I’ve had sex with several of my girlfriends–we’ve talked about it.”

 

“And now we’ve talked about your boyfriend.  It’s the same, very personal, decision with Art as well as with Carol, and Samantha, and whoever else.  Art, do your parents know you’re homosexual?”

 

“No, sir.”

 

“I guess you wouldn’t want me to tell them.”

 

“No, sir.”

 

“Are you going to tell them?”

 

“Someday.  I can’t believe you’re reacting like this.  I know that Mom and Dad wouldn’t.”

 

“I know them from church.  I’m quite certain you’re right.  Well, It’s not my business to go around telling the personal secrets of Harry’s friends to anyone–including their parents.  Art, would you like to stay for dinner tonight?”

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“Absolutely.  Call you parents and ask.  You’re going to have to take pot luck on what you eat.”

 

“Anything is fine.”

At dinner Phil had picked up the conversation again.  “Look, boys.  I’m not at all sure how comfortable I am with your homosexual relationship.  I grew up being told it was sinful.  And I don’t want to know any of the details of what you do.  But I can’t be a good father and then pass judgment on my son by telling him he’s sinning in his relationship with you, Art.  That’s a decision he has to make.  Well, he’s already made it.  He and I’ll talk about it at the appropriate time–when he wants to. 

 

“However, it was stupid of you two to be downstairs in the living room without any clothes on.  People do come to the door from time to time.  So have some good sense.  Stay upstairs in Harry’s room when you don’t have clothes on.  And that applies tonight as well as every other time you’re over here.”

 

Harry had rushed over and hugged his dad.  Art just said, “Thanks,” as if a huge load had been lifted off his back.

 

Harry had lots of girlfriends, and had sex with most of them.  Art was totally gay.  He realized that if he tried to pressure Harry into an exclusive relationship that kept Harry from dating girls that he would lose Harry.  Nor did he ever try to threaten Harry with exposure in order to have him to himself.  Until about half way through their senior year, Art had sex with Harry two or three times a week, on weekdays, and the girls got Harry on the weekends.  Art knew about the girls–in fact he got a little vicarious thrill from Harry’s telling of his adventures.  It turned him on.  The girls knew nothing about Art.

 

At Christmastime in their Senior year, Art met Bill, whom he was pretty sure was gay.  They started seeing a lot of each other.  Art shared the story with Harry from the beginning.  By February Bill and Art had come out to each other and they became sexually involved.  Harry encouraged him, as he knew that he would never be in love with Art.  Just as Harry hadn’t told his girls about Art, Art decided that he wouldn’t tell Bill about Harry–at least at first.  They became inseparable, and headed off to college together at the University of Winnipeg, in Canada.  They still live there, together.  Art was exactly right about his parents.  When he did come out, toward the end of his college career, they completely disowned him.  Bill didn’t fare much better with his parents.  They haven’t been back to North Dakota since.  Harry has lost touch with them, but talks of trying to find them some day in Winnipeg.

 

I think all of this explains how Harry was so calm about meeting the gay Tim who would be diving at UND.  Maybe he even hoped they might have a fling–though he knew he was paired with Charlie.

 

In any case, that was the Harry that Tim had as a teammate his freshman year–Harry’s Senior year.  I met Harry in our Sophomore year; we dated a little at the end of the year, and got fairly serious in our Junior year.  Harry treated me differently from the girls he knew in high school.  He was completely up front about it:  “Lida, in high school I had sex with a lot of girls.  I told them right up front that it was sex for fun, not love.  If they didn’t want that, they should say so.  A few did.  Most had fun with me.  A few dreamed of love, but they hadn’t been listening to me.”  To me he said, “I don’t want to have fun sex with you.  I think I could fall in love with you, and I want the sex to follow that.”  It did–our Senior year–but I remained a virgin.  I told Harry that the right time would come, and we would know it..  And before it did, he told me all about Art and their adventures.  And I told him about Orie, Jude, and Paul.

 

The summer after Harry’s Junior year he and his father went to Champaign, Illinois, where Harry competed in the Swimming and Diving Nationals.  Tim was there, dominating diving like superman.  And all of a sudden Harry and his father found themselves at dinner with Tim, Charlie, and Tim’s diving coach.  Harry thought he had died and gone to heaven.  Tim chattered on about diving next year at UND like he and Harry were going to be best buddies.  And they were; at least Tim was Harry’s best buddy.  It was very clear that Charlie was Tim’s best buddy, and also that Tim knew and loved almost everyone.  But come to the pool, and Tim always had time for serious divers.  He would spend all the time in the world with Harry, helping him to improve just a little bit at a time. 

 

Harry almost broke down one afternoon, and said, “Tim, I’m not ever going to be as good as you.  Stop wasting your time.”

 

Tim hugged Harry–he hugged everyone–and said, “You aren’t trying to be as good as me, or anyone.  The idea is to be better today than you were yesterday, and better tomorrow than you are today.  How much better, and who else is better, doesn’t matter at all.  Better tomorrow than today.  That’s all that counts.”  When Harry was with Tim, he was always better than he had been the day before.

 

I loved Harry almost from the day I had met him.  But Harry changed as he got to know Tim.  He was a better diver, but that didn’t make any difference to me–he was never going to be a high level diving competitor.  But he grew more confident.  More loving.  More outgoing.  More charming.  Tim’s magic was just in the air.  He and Charlie had the swimming and diving team to dinner fairly often.  Dinner was always cooked by the loveable old Felix, whom Tim insisted on introducing as “Our resident dirty old man.”  I’m not sure why, but Felix loved it.  A few times just Harry and I were invited, and the four of us, Tim, Charlie, Harry and I would sit and talk into the evening.  By ten we were gone, as Tim was off to bed early and up early diving at a pace than no one on the team could match.  Harry tried for a while, but he simply couldn’t handle Tim’s schedule.

 

The wonderful thing was that that didn’t bother Tim.  You were loved on your own terms.  Charlie was the same way.  If Harry did show up at the pool at six in the morning, Tim just accepted it, and they worked on whatever dive Harry was having trouble with.  Tim did his own dives as well–in Harry’s words, “Tim’s dives are from a corner of the dive book that I haven’t even found yet.”

 

They’d shower together, and Harry had to admit to me that Tim had the sexiest body he had ever seen.  “I don’t think Art would’ve turned me on at all if I had seen Tim first.”  But there was never any sex, nor any hint.  But Harry swears that Tim liked to “check him out” whenever they showered together.  I don’t know.  Or care.

 

Then Harry qualified for the Nationals again, this time in Albuquerque.  Harry’s father couldn’t go; he had a big case before the North Dakota Supreme Court.  I wanted to go with Harry, but I decided not to.  It was a very hard decision.  By this time we were engaged, and I was eagerly planning to spend the rest of my life with him.  But diving had a special place in his heart, and Tim–and Larry–were the ones that shared that place.  It wasn’t that Harry wouldn’t have been glad to let me in, it’s just that I thought that he should have a chance to just enjoy his time with the diving fraternity.  And back then it was all boys.  Tim would demand that a girls team be established the next year, but that year it was just boys.  And it was a wonderful chance for Harry to be with Tim and Charlie.

 

I talked to Tim.  Tim has already told you about our conversation.  I encouraged him to have a sexual relationship with Harry if it worked out.  I didn’t tell Tim about Art, that was Harry’s decision.  But I assured Tim, in every way I could, that I wouldn’t be jealous of anything that happened.

 

I knew that Larry was pretty open minded as well.  He had to be to relate to Tim and Charlie the way he did.  I enlisted his help in encouraging Harry to relate lovingly to Tim.  Larry had said, “Do you know what you’re suggesting?  Are you sure?”

 

“I’m completely sure, Larry.  Harry and I are in love.  But right now–this week–these Nationals–Harry needs Tim.  And I think Tim’s willing to share himself with Harry.”

                                                       

Tim has told you the story of Nationals in Albuquerque.  Harry came in twelfth–so far over his head that it’s a wonder he didn’t drown.   He told his father the whole story on the flight back to Denver.  Phil had listened, and said, “You know, I wasn’t sure what to make of you and Art that evening I walked in on you.   I suppose that I might’ve thrown Art out and told him that he could never see you again.  Thank God I didn’t.  Harry, you’ve made a lot of right decisions in your life.  You’ve learned more about your own sexuality than I ever did mine.  Congratulations, son.  Not only for being the 12th best springboard diver in the nation, but also for being one of the smartest kids around.  Finding Art, and Lida, and Tim proves that.”

 

“I love you, Dad.  Thanks.”

 

“I love you, too, son.  Your mother would be so proud of you today.  I wish she could’ve been here.”

 

“I learned a lot from her, and you.  In a way she was here.  And I hope she would’ve been happy about me and Tim as well as me and the diving board.”

 

“I’m sure she would’ve been.  You know, I married her because I knew she was a good woman.”

 

“She was, Dad.  I loved her a lot.

 

“Dad?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I want to continue to dive.  I’m going to be in grad school at UND next year and I can continue to dive with the team.”

 

“And with Tim.”

 

“Yes, and with Tim.  I’ll have lost my eligibility, but with a 12th place finish at this year’s Nationals I can compete again next year–they’re open, I don’t need NCAA eligibility.”

 

“What do you think Lida will think of that?”

 

“I won’t do it if she isn’t enthusiastic.”

 

“Go for it, son.”

 

Harry sat alone on the flight from Denver to Fargo.  The two coaches were seated across the aisle.  He had a lot of time to think.  I don’t know exactly what he thought about, but I do know the outcome.  He flew out of the airplane, down the ramp, and into the waiting area, straight into my arms.  I’ve never been hugged so tightly or kissed so lovingly.  “Thank you, Lida.  You gave me the gift of a lifetime.  And now I want to spend a lifetime with you.  And no one else.”

 

“I love you, Harry,” was about all that I could get out between his kisses.  I got the whole story driving to Harry’s home from the airport.  When he was finished, I reached over between his legs and squeezed a little.  “Harry, thank you for telling me the story.  It’s wonderful.  You’re wonderful.  Tonight’s the time.  Fuck me tonight.”

 

He did.  It was as wonderful as I had always dreamed it would be.  When we were finished, and he was laying beside me in bed he said, “You know, Lida, it wasn’t the first time for me.  I suppose that I should be saying that I was sorry that I had done it for fun with those girls in high school.  But I can’t say that.  It was fun.  It wasn’t dirty.  It wasn’t wrong.  But it was different.  Being with you tonight was so completely different I can’t even describe it.  I love you Lida.  I always will.  Always love me.”

 

We were lying in his father’s and mother’s bed.  He had a direct flight from Denver, and his father had had to go to Bismarck, pick up his car and drive home.  He called from Bismarck before he left to make sure that Harry had made it safely.  Harry assured him that he had, that all was well, and that I was there with him–as we had planned.  Then he completely floored me with, “Dad....Can Lida and I sleep in yours and Mom’s bed tonight.  I want to love her completely....Thanks, Dad.”

 

“You said that to your father?”

 

“Yes, Lida.  I learned back in tenth grade that telling him everything was the right thing to do.  Not for every father and son, but for Dad and me: Yes.”

 

You aren’t going to believe this, but Harry and I didn’t live together until we were married at Christmas.  We chose an apartment in Grand Forks, and Harry moved in.  I stayed at the YWCA that fall, and they were pretty prudish, so I didn’t get to sleep very often with Harry.  Of course, the afternoons were our own.  But in that era it simply wouldn’t “do” for a boy and a girl to live together unmarried.  At least that’s what my parents thought.  Harry’s dad simply said, “If that’s what they think, it’s OK, but they had better pay the YWCA bill.”  They did.

 

It was a wonderful year.  We both got a Master’s in Education and we plan to teach.  I’ll be in elementary and Harry will teach high school science.  I tease him that he ought to teach biology, including the sex education curricula.  He just laughs and tells me that it’ll be chemistry and physics–he doesn’t think there’s a school anywhere that could deal with his sex education course.  When I said that one night when we were having dinner at Tim and Charlie’s, Charlie said, “It’s so sad.  Kids are taught the stupidest things about sex.  By their parents, schools, books; it’s pervasive.”

 

I couldn’t believe what came next out of Harry’s mouth, “Would you two like a little sex education tonight?”

 

Charlie said, “What do you think you could teach us?”

 

“It might be interesting finding out.”

 

Tim looked at me and said, “You look startled, Lida.  Are you comfortable with where this’s going?”

 

“I think so.  Yes, I am.”

 

“Then it’s going upstairs.”

 

Tim led us into the bedroom at the head of the stairs, and before I had turned around to look at the beautiful, large room, he was completely naked.  “Come on, slowpokes.  Last one naked is the last one...well, whatever.”

 

I was the last one naked.  But it was because girls’ clothes simply don’t unfasten as fast as boys’.  Then there’s the matter of stockings.  As soon as I was naked Tim looked at me, stared a long time, and said, “Harry, you have the most wonderful body to sleep with that I’ve ever seen.  And you’re willing to share?  You’re nuts.”

 

Tim was a love.  He also had his tongue in my vagina before I knew what was happening.  “I thought you were gay!”

 

“I am.  I’m other things too.  Right now I’m hungry.”

 

While Tim gave me one of the most exciting orgasms of my life, Charlie went for Harry.  He sucked him, took all of his cum into his mouth, and then kissed Harry hard, sharing his own cum with him.  I’m pretty sure that that was a new experience for Harry.  Tim looked over and said, “I think you’re the one getting the education tonight, Harry.”

 

With that Charlie kissed him harder.  Then Tim and I guided him to Charlie’s dick and let him go to work.  When Charlie came he got to eat his second load of cum.  Tim said, “You and Lida can do me, and you have to have your third dessert, Harry.”

 

Tim came in my mouth, but I took Charlie’s lead and kissed Harry.  He was a good sport and really kissed me hard.  We ended the whole affair in fits of laughter and a lot of tickling, started by Tim tickling me, and then everybody tickling everybody.  Then Charlie said, “I’ll bet Tim can go again.”  Charlie sucked him, did get a second load, and kept it all for himself. 

 

Later that night Harry fucked me.  “Lida, sex can be fun.  But you’re special.  Never leave me.”

 

I haven’t.  Never even thought about it.  Never had any reason to think about it.  We never had sex with Tim or Charlie again, but we’ve had a few adventures.  They’re fun.  No regrets.  But Harry’s different.  Special.  Mine.  I love him.

 

Harry’s third Nationals were the following summer.  He improved his position to 11th.  It was a dream come true.  He had told me that his original goal had been to get to the Nationals once.  Just getting there was his goal.  He made that goal three times.  He got  into the finals twice.  Improved to 11th place.  He was in seventh heaven.

 

Harry had no idea what was in store for him.  But as Tim hugged him after he had been acknowledged as 11th place, he whispered in his ear.  “The Worlds are in Rome in August.  And you qualified.  And you’re going.”

 

I had no idea until later what Tim had whispered to Harry, but it had to have been something pretty special.  By the time he had gotten over to me in the front row of the audience, he had regained some of his composure.  But all he could get out was, “Ask Tim.”

 

I did.  And our world turned upside down.

To be continued...

 

Posted: 06/13/08