Cindy Growing Up free porn video

My first memories are of my mommy playing dolls with me in my
crib, and singing softly as she nursed me. I grew quickly, and I
was a chatty little k**, and by four Mom would take me out to
play with the other little girls. I remember always being dressed
in skirts and layer after layer of soft, frilly underwear.

I was treated like a little princess, and by five I was told that
my father had died just after I was born, leaving Mom enough
money to raise me without worry. I also learned I was different
from the other little girls. Mom explained that some people are
born without parts, like my friend Linda, who had only three
fingers on each hand. And sometimes they are born with the wrong
parts, like me. All the other girls had innies, but I had an
outie, just like the boys, even though I was a girl.

Not that it mattered much. Mom gave me some special underwear
that let me look like the other girls with my panties on. And
since it was a bad thing to let others see my private parts, no
one but me knew. Mom was death on fighting, so I learned to
behave like a young lady, or risk standing for my supper.

By third grade I was a real tom-boy. Mom got me an excuse for
gym, so I wouldn't have to show anyone my secret. I always wore
shorts and jeans when I played. But I loved how I looked in one
of the beautiful dresses Mom was always buying me. And she bought
more when she found I would wear them much more often if she let
me wear heels and makeup.

In fourth grade mom let me get my ears pierced twice, and my
first compete makeover at Mom's beauty salon. I dressed as nicely
as I could for a week, carefully protecting my new, long, painted
nails. Mom made me take dancing lessons, and every Tuesday and
Thursday evening I had to attend some sort of finishing school
where I learned to move, act, and speak like someone out of a
movie about royalty.

And I learned fast. Mistakes were corrected with what I thought
was a wooden pancake turner. On my pantied bottom. At least on
weekends she let me wear pants and shorts to play. Soon I could
out-wrestle and out-climb all the other girls my age.

In the fifth grade I started to get funny feelings in my extra
parts when I wrestled with another girl. And I started to play
real often with myself, which felt so good. I knew what I was
doing because they had taught us about it in health class. A lot
of the girls said they could do it five or six times. I could
only do it two or three, and I had to wait a long time before I
could do it again.

I had also started to grow. I was already a big, strong k**. Now
I was becoming a big, strong, and tall k**. Mom seemed unhappy
when she found how fast I was growing. And not just because I was
outgrowing my clothes faster than she could buy me new ones.

At the beginning of sixth grade I started getting hair in my pits
and down in my crotch. When I told Mom I needed a razor, she
almost came unglued. The next week I got a Lady Gillette, and she
took me to the same special doctor I always saw for a checkup and
a school physical. Soon I was given some vitamins she said would
help me grow up as a healthy young woman. So I took them every
day, just as she instructed.

I felt weird for a couple of weeks, and cried a lot. But after a
while I felt fine, maybe even a bit more relaxed. It was only
when I realized I was washing a lot fewer panties each week that
I figured out I was not playing with myself as often, and when I
did, it took a lot longer.

I managed, red-faced, to tell Mom, and she said she understood,
and told me to take the vitamins only every other day. Soon it
was easier to masturbate, but I still did not do it as often. But
I had other things on my mind. Girls. I was developing a
fascination about other girls. Which would sometimes make my
extra parts hard, and get me all tingly inside.

In health class they had taught us about homosexuality, so I
guessed I might be one of those girls they called lesbians. Which
didn't make sense but since it felt so good to hug and kiss other
girls, I quit worrying about it. Mom was really adamant about my
staying a virgin, and I didn't want to catch some weird disease,
so my clothes stayed on.

Instead of seventh grade, Mom enrolled me in a private girls'
school. I lasted three weeks. What a bunch of prissy little
snots. I was the biggest and tallest seventh-grader, and nearly
the flattest. So I got teased a lot. When one of the eighth-grade
girls, who looked like an ad for a paint store, pinched one of my
nipples "to see if I was really a girl", I stuffed her head-first
into a lunch-room trash can. Several times.

She came out looking like a badly tossed salad. And I got tossed
out on my ear. So it was back to public school. Boys there didn't
interest me. Mom had taken me to the St. Louis Zoo, and we had
seen the monkeys. They were more interesting, and a lot funnier,
than boys. But boys were sure interested in me. Mom said I had
great legs, and she let me wear really short skirts and shorts.
And heels. No heels, no skirts. Bribery is not always one-sided.

In eighth grade I suddenly started to grow again. Up and out. Mom
complained about having to shop for groceries three times a week.
I complained that I ached all over, especially my breasts. She
got me some cream, and told me to gently massage it into my skin
at night. Once I used it, I was hooked. Gawd it felt great to
massage myself. Soon I found I could come, once, by giving myself
a long and sensual massage.

As my chest grew, so did the number of boys pestering me. Then my
bottom bloomed, and my hips got wider, I loved my new look, and
figured the boys were like flies; they followed anything sweet
and edible.

In tenth grade I met Joyce. By now I was six-one, and measured
38-25-38 with a big chest and firm B-cup breasts. And lots of
lean muscles. Mom wouldn't let me do any competitive sports,
saying my extra parts would get me in a lot of trouble. But there
were aerobics classes after school, and when the weather was good
I ran cross-country and swam. So my great legs got even better.
Jiggling hurt, so I had to invest in several squash-em-flat
sports bras. Which still didn't deter the boys.

Joyce was athletic like me, but in a really compact package. One
day two guys were teasing her about being a dyke, and when one of
them started fondling her, I lost my temper. I didn't know a boy
could sing soprano. It was quite a fight. Another boy, who was
really big, tried to intervene and I tried to slug him. I had
been bounced off the ground once, the building twice, and was on
my way, butt-first, to a landing in a rose bush when the teachers
finally arrived to break up the fight.

I did a lot of dancing and howling, and created a general ruckus
as I tried to pull thorns out of my bottom and private parts. All
of us got sent home, and were told to bring our parents the next
morning for sentencing. The big guy apologized for the rose bush,
saying I fought really good for a girl. I surprised myself by
returning his handshake. When out hands met, I got a funny
feeling inside, kind of like when I kissed a girl. Strange.

Mom came to get me. I had to lay on the back seat of her car,
because sitting was impossible with my backside full of thorns.

Mom was giving me hell for fighting. When I finally told her she
was becoming more of a pain on the butt than the thorns, she made
funny noises and shut up. I spent the evening d****d over a
footstool with my bare bottom in the breeze. Mom had a bottle of
peroxide, and a forceps. And no sympathy.

I slept, some, on my stomach, and ate breakfast standing. I even
managed the bathroom without touchdown. Owww. I wound up wearing
three pairs of cotton panties so my skirt wouldn't rub too much.
Mom was not sympathetic. I had to travel on my stomach again.

We all met in the principal's office. The guy I had punted was
absent, and we found he was both suspended for thirty days, and
in the hospital being treated for severe bruising and swelling.
Joyce commented about things the size of apples, and when it
registered, I cringed.

The guy that was pounding on Joyce also got suspended for thirty
days, and ordered to pay her for her damaged clothes. Joyce was
limping, and I found she had sprained her ankle kicking him. The
big guy, whose name was Emil, apologized, and was given a
suspended three-day suspension. And he had to pay for the rose
bush and my clothes. He was really sympathetic when I described
the thorn removal and my inability to sit.

As with all weird news, it was all over the school by second
period. Especially with Joyce limping and my having to stand in
class. At lunch. Emil joined us in the cafeteria, and I found
him, well, interesting. He was the first boy that made me feel
warm and fuzzy inside. And that scared me, because I was not
built right for a girl.

Joyce met me after school, and since sitting in a bus was not a
option yet, she hobbled home with me. We were quite a sight. In
my heels I was nearly six-six, and in her tennis shoes she might
have been five-two. I thought she was cute, though just a bit on
the blocky side. Her thighs were bigger and stronger than mine,
and I thought her boobs were huge.

After repeatedly thanking me for rescuing her the day before, she
stopped us, and looked up at me. "Look, before you get yourself
hurt, what they said was true. I'm gay, a lesbian, a dyke. So if
it bothers you, tell me, and I'll disappear."

"Hey, guy's don't make my toes curl. Other girls do. But I don't
know if I'm a lesbian or not. Especially after yesterday."

Her eyebrows went up. So I explained about Emil. She looked
really confused. "So a guy who beats the crap out of you turns
you on, but regular guys don't? I nodded. "Gads, you're as weird
as me!" She gave me hug. We wound up at my house, and spent the
rest of the afternoon chatting and doing homework. By late
Saturday all the thorns were out, and I could sit if I was very
careful. Joyce and I were rapidly becoming friends. And Emil
called and asked me out on a date for Sunday afternoon.

Mom had a fit, but finally agreed. He turned out to be a perfect
gentleman. We went to a movie, Dutch. And left part-way through,
mutually agreeing it was awful. So he took me to lunch. Between
us, a large pizza was doomed. We headed for a mall, where he
insisted on buying me a replacement outfit. I expected him to
suggest something revealing. Instead he found me a super-soft
cotton circle skirt and a real angora sweater with a high neck.
When I tried them on, the angora sent sensual overload warning
through my whole body. I pulled it off, and took off my bra.
Putting it back on was an incredible experience.

I looked in the mirror. The bulges formed by my now very erect
nipples were clearly visible. I looked at least eighteen. And
felt really funny inside. When I wrapped myself around him, and
gave him a deep, tongue-sharing kiss, he seemed startled, and
then scared. But he stayed with me the rest of the afternoon. And
I continued to tingle inside. When I asked Joyce about his and my
reactions that evening, she was as confused as I was.

Just before Thanksgiving, Joyce, Emil, and I were enjoying a hike
in the nearby state park. We had become fast friends, and the
presence of Emil, who was the heart-throb target of nearly every
girl in the school, seemed to squelch the rumors about Joyce and
me being lesbians. Which is funny, because I was pretty sure I
was, but friendship was far more important to me than sex. We had
never been intimate a bit. Except for some snuggles.

We were bringing back several containers of frost-nipped
blueberries when I stepped on a patch of moss, and with a mighty
screech, slid into an icy creek. By the time they managed to pry
me up the slippery bank, I was sort of blue and shivering
uncontrollably. We were several miles from the trailhead, and I
got worse as we tried to hurry back.

Emil halted us at a sheltered location, and pulled his emergency
kit from his pack. I remember him throwing a silvery plastic tarp
on the ground, and stripping my clothes off. Then he and Joyce
stripped, and sandwiched me between them, covering us with a
couple more of the funny plastic tarps. I have only faint
recollections of them talking to me and keeping me awake and
moving until I started to become coherent. We stayed sandwiched
like that until I was no longer shivering.

Joyce climbed out, and pulled all the dry clothing in with us.
And got candy bars from the packs. We nibbled the food as their
clothes warmed. It was about that point that I realized I was
completely naked, and started to shake and cry. "Cindy, what's
wrong?"

"You, you took off all my clothes, and you've seen..." I started
to sob loudly.

"That you are really a boy that dresses like a girl? It's weird.
But you're our friend. And it was that or you would have died of
hypothermia."

"But I'm not a boy! My mom said I'm a girl that was born with
boy's parts. Now everyone will know and laugh at me, and I'll be
called a freak and..."

"And we won't tell anyone. So quit worrying and stay warm, 'cause
it's getting late and we still have to get back to the trailhead
before nightfall." Emil pulled me against his naked body, and I
was surprised to find he was hard. Very hard.

Emil gave me his big sweater. I had to wear my wet socks, boots,
and muddy pants, but it was not too bad. We made it, blueberries
and all, back to the trailhead just at dark. Once in Emil's car,
we turned the heat to maximum, and quietly roasted ourselves
before we headed home. Because I was still weak and shaking,
Joyce and Emil helped me inside.

"Cindy? My god, what's happened?!" Mom met us at the door, and
saw them supporting me.

"She slipped and fell in a creek, and got badly chilled. We
managed to get her warmed up using emergency blankets, but she is
still pretty weak. And she is scared silly because we had to
strip her icy clothes off, and learned her secret."

Mom stared at them, and when comprehension hit, she fainted.

So we wound up carrying her to the couch, and wrapping her in a
comforter. Joyce and Emil called home to tell their parents what
happened, and that they were going to stay at my house and keep
me company until they were certain I was going to be okay. I
didn't object as they collected blankets and made a cocoon of me
in the big recliner. After a trip to the bathroom.

They were feeding me warm broth and toast when mom woke up, and
started to scream. So they held her until she calmed down. I
wanted to help, but could barely wiggle in my warm wrappings.
"Ms. Wilson, please don't worry. Cindy's secret is safe with us."

"But, but now you know she's not really a girl, and..."

"WHAT!" I screamed at the top of my voice. "Mom, you told me I
was a girl who was born with the wrong parts!" Emil came over and
held me.

Mom started to cry again. She managed to force out "Cindy, this
is not the time or place for me to explain what has happened, and
why. If you chose to hate me I will understand, but for now,
please, I love you." She came completely unglued. Joyce held her,
and Emil held me for a long time.

Emil carried me upstairs, still wrapped tightly in the blankets,
and put me to bed. He then undressed, and climbed in next to me.
"Emil, you don't have to do this. I've deceived you and hurt you
and..."

"And you need sleep and I need to hold you." He kissed me, and I
did my best to snuggle against him despite the cocoon. I was too
spent and confused to think, and fell asleep in his arms.

The next morning I woke, desperately needing to pee. Emil was
staring at me from a few inches away. "Morning, beautiful."

"Help! I've got to go and I can't move and... " He hopped up,
naked, and proceeded to unwrap me. When the last layer came off,
I managed to run, almost naked, for the bathroom. When I came
out, Joyce and Emil were waiting for me. Joyce, an angry look on
her face, handed me a change of clothes, and pushed me back into
the bathroom.

"You need a shower. And we need to talk." I stared at her. She
peeled my underwear off against my protestations, and started the
shower. "Your mother and I had a long talk last night. She told
me the whole story." I got shoved into the shower, and handed the
shampoo. "What she did to you was wrong. Horribly, criminally
wrong. But she did it out of love for you." I started to say
something. "No, she will explain it to you. She owes you the
complete truth. Emil and I will be here to help you through the
bad parts. Now finish up. She is making us all breakfast." I
shivered despite the warm water.

When I was finally dressed, Joyce escorted me down to the dining
room, where Emil was keeping an eye on Mom, who was red-eyed and
had a terrified expression on her tear-streaked face. "Please
Cindy, eat some breakfast, and let me tell you the whole story.
From the beginning. Then yell at me, and hate me. And I won't
stop you if you want to leave."

I sat down, with a push from Joyce. The bacon, eggs, and toast
were wonderful. And I was starving. Emil and Joyce sandwiched me
between them, and nibbled at their own food. Mom had barely
touched hers, sipped nervously at her coffee, then started.

"Your father did not die just after you were born. He was an
abusive drunk, and I divorced him out of fear for my life, and
that of my unborn c***d. You. But he was adamant that if you were
a boy, he was going to take you away from me, and raise you to be
like him." She paused. "The midwife knew of his threat. So when
you were born a boy, she put your name on the birth certificate
as Cindy Marie Wilson, and marked the sex as female.

Your father was disgusted you were born a girl, but did not leave
town. The reason I had enough money was the divorce settlement
was very large, and he had to pay a lot of c***d support. So I
felt I had no choice but to raise you as a girl. And after his
abuse, I wanted you to grow up kind and gentle, so unlike him."
She started to shake, and sat there for a while with her head in
her hands.

"When you started to develop like a teenage boy, I could not face
losing the daughter I so loved and cherished. So the vitamins I
gave you were hormones to cause you to mature as a young woman.
And even when he finally died from his drinking last year, I
could not bear to tell you, because I knew you would hate me and
leave me alone...all alone." She put her head back on her arms.
"If you hate me, I will understand. If you want me to leave, I
will turn over everything I own to you, and move away. There is
more than enough money for you to live the rest of your life in
comfort." She started to cry again, and soon was wracked by her
sobbing.

"What she has not said is that the changes are mostly not
reversible. Even if you are still capable of fathering c***dren,
which is remotely possible, you will always be tiny down there,
and will look like a girl." Joyce glared angrily at my mother.
"She has taken from you the choice of how to live your life. You
are my best friend, and I hate her for doing this to you." Mom
sobbed louder.

I looked over at Emil. Instead of angry, he looked extremely sad,
and was shaking his head. "I can't hate her. Your mother did what
she did out of love and fear." He put his hand out to me. "Cindy,
I love you whether you are a boy or a girl. I love the person
named Cindy. Don't destroy the person I love out of hate and
anger." He pulled me to him and hugged me. I was confused, and
angry, and sad, and so many things all mixed up that all I could
do was cling to him. When I finally came to a conclusion, I
pulled away.

"Joyce, you are my friend. Cindy's friend. Can you be my friend
knowing I'm really a boy?"

"I love you. I wanted to be your partner. And now I can't because
I know you are really a boy, and boys turn me off, and..." She
started to cry. I held her close.

"Are you so certain that we can't love each other as friends?"
She looked up at me. "And maybe, just maybe, you need to find out
if I really do turn you off." I gave her a deep kiss, and she
pressed herself against me. We shared that kiss until I could not
breathe. "But I need to tell my mother something. Now. So let
Emil hold you for a while." She snuggled against him, and I
turned to face my mom, who was staring at me in fear.

I walked around the table to her. "I love you." And crying,
hugged her to me. She collapsed, sobbing, into my arms.

"Thank god Thank god Thank god." Was all she could manage. We
stayed hugging each other, and were joined by Joyce and Emil.
When we finally separated, we used up most of a box of tissues.

Emil drove Joyce home, after promising they would be back
tomorrow morning to pick me up for school. After they left, Mom
and I stared at each other across the table.

"What are you going to do?" She looked afraid.

I sat and thought. "Nothing for a few days. I want to get a
complete physical, from a different doctor, and find out if I can
father c***dren." I closed my eyes and thought some more. "I have
no idea what it would be like to be a boy. All my life I have
been Cindy. Maybe there are some counselors out there that know
about this stuff, and can help me."

"Should I still call you Cindy, or..."

"Mom, I am Cindy, your daughter. That will never change. Even if
I decide I want to be a boy, Cindy will always be here too."

We cried on each other again. Mom finally decided she was too
stressed to make dinner, and suggested we go out. I went to
change, and she was startled when I came out of my room dressed
in a microskirt and heels. "But..."

"Mom, this is me. The real me. The girl with the incredible legs,
remember? No one is going to take that away. Besides, I like
looking pretty. It's something I guess guys don't really
understand. But I can. And I think its great." We headed out the
door.

At the beginning of Christmas break I received the results of my
physical. Mom had arranged for me to visit a university medical
center where they specialized in boys who wanted to become girls.
The results were encouraging. I was still fertile, although my
sperm count was very low. I had finished my growth, so no
hormonal changes would further alter my bone structure. And I was
extremely healthy. They prescribed a different level of hormones,
saying I needed a maintenance dose, which should have less effect
on my fertility.

While there, I spoke several times to a psychiatrist who
specialized in c***dren with what he called gender confusion. He
recommended a specific counselor in our area, but told me that I
seemed to be on a good track when I explained what I was planning
to do.

The four of us sat down together that Saturday morning over
breakfast. Mom was still scared, and both Joyce and Emil were
afraid I was going to do something foolish, or leave, or both. I
had Mom give the rundown on my physical. Then, slowly sipping my
orange juice, I made my announcement.

"I have decided that I am going to stay Cindy. And probably live
the rest of my life as a woman." Everyone jumped up and grabbed
and hugged me. I finally had to pry them off and get them to sit
down. "The psychiatrist I spoke with said I can, if I want, learn
to be a boy and eventually a man. He said that most boys who were
forcibly raised as girls, and yes, there are others, have always
hated it. But I've been okay with who I am. Cindy. Who happens to
be a girl. He gave me some tests, and said I'm one of those
people who psychologically is neither strongly male or female. He
said I'm more male that female, but not enough to recommend I
change how I live. In his words, if it isn't broken, don't fix
it.

He did say I will have some social problems unless I remain
single and unattached, or can accept being considered by most as
a lesbian. I had already made that decision, so it is not a
problem." I took a deep breath, and looked at Emil. "He also said
I am probably a heterosexual male. At least in orientation. Which
explains why girls have always turned me on, and guys don't." The
look on Emil's face was strained. "There are other legal concerns
in some states, and I will need to have the proper documentation
from a physician and a psychiatrist to ensure I don't get
discriminated against if my secret gets out.

The medical doctors also said that I will have lots mechanical
problems if I want to make love and father c***dren in the usual
way, because I am so small." Mom cringed and looked sad. "For
fathering c***dren, it won't really be a problem, as they said it
will be easy to collect and store the needed sperm, which will
also help with my low counts. Provided my partner is willing, we
can use artificial insemination techniques. For sex," I shrugged
"both the medical doctors and the psychiatrist told me to accept
the way I am, and learn other methods of giving and receiving
sexual attention."

Everyone was watching me. Mom looked both relieved and miserable.
Emil and Joyce seemed pensive, like there was something I had
left out.

Emil got up, and hugged me. "Cindy, does this mean we can at
least stay friends?" I looked at mom. And Joyce. And listened to
the tingling running through me.

"Mom, can our budget stand my getting a three-bedroom hotel suite
for a week? I need to spend some private time with my two best
friends." Joyce glued herself to me.

"Start packing. But be here for Christmas dinner." The three of
us headed upstairs.

"Call your parents and tell them you are spending the week with
me."

"But I'm not sure that..."

"That's why there are three bedrooms. Emil, are you game?" His
kiss left no doubt of his agreement. Joyce looked jealous.

"Okay, I'm in. Who's bringing the toys?" We both started at her.
"Hey, if you're going to be a lesbian, there's a lot of ways to
have fun." She grinned, then pouted. I tingled. "Um, I'm like
broke and well, there are some things I need and..."

"Tell my mom. I bet she'll cover the costs. With a smile."

Packing my stuff was fast. Mom outdid herself. We were booked at
a small retreat several miles from the city. She said it was a
"luxury suite". We stopped and collected Joyce's and Emil's
things, and headed out of town, via a little shop where Joyce
made several purchases. We didn't talk much, just glanced at each
other, and her packages, with questioning smiles.

The first thing we noticed after checking in was the full, softly
burbling, king-size hot tub in the middle of the suite.

I won't describe what happened behind my bedroom door. Or in the
hot tub. Suffice it to say that Joyce is a hardwired lesbian. But
she taught me how to pleasure a woman without using my tiny male
parts. And how a woman can please another woman without ever
going below waist. We came to the realization that we were not
destined to be lovers, just very close friends. I think friends
are more important.

Emil confessed to both of us the reason he acted so strange
towards me. We were in the hot tub at the time, and Joyce nearly
drowned trying not to laugh. "I've never been really sexually
attracted to either boys or girls. So when you and I fought, and
then spent time together, I realized that, at least a little, you
turned me on. Sex isn't important to me, I do fine flying with my
personal palm pilot if I get too much back pressure. But I have
always craved companionship. And there is something special about
you that makes me want to, well, take you and snuggle up in bed."
He was turning red. To his toes.

After we rescued Joyce from trying to inhale too much chlorine,
Emil and I retired to my room for the remainder of the day.
Mmmm... I was surprised, but not astounded, when Joyce asked if
she could borrow Emil for a few hours. They seemed relaxed when
they finally came out for food. I didn't ask.

We came back a day early. We all had a lot of emotions that
needed to be sorted through. Plus I was beginning to notice the
effects that greatly lowering my hormone dosage was having, and
didn't want to upset people with my increased horniness and
aggressiveness. By the end of the Christmas break, I was
irritable, drooling over pretty girls, and wondering if I wanted
to give up any chance to be a boy to stop the emotional overload.

When I called he Doctor at the University, he told me that I just
needed to change my dosage a bit. That afternoon, I got a shot in
the bottom, and a different dosage of hormones. By New Year's I
was back to my old self again.

At my suggestion, after the holidays Emil attended several
sessions with me and my counselor, and then a few sessions by
himself. He soon learned that he was actually one of many people
who are primarily auto-erotic, and have little need for sexual
relations with others. But they also have a normal need for
emotional interaction, which usually causes them great problems.
For us, it meant that our relationship was nearly ideal.

So it was at the Senior prom that Emil formally proposed to me,
and I, like any other young woman in love, made a spectacular
fool of myself as I cried and hugged him while screaming YES!
YES! YES! to all that could hear. I think the prom was wonderful,
but I was too happy to notice.

His parents were startled when we told them my secret, but they
already knew we were in love, and after some counseling were able
to accept that my being a genetic male really didn't matter to
Emil. When his father offered to pay for the surgery to make me
into a complete woman once we were married, Emil and I spent a
lot time with my counselor. After many discussions, we decided
that being able to make love that way was really not that
important, so we opted for some cosmetic adjustments that gave me
a much more feminine appearance without removing anything.

Emil and I were married in a small, private ceremony in late
August. With my birth certificate showing me as a young woman,
there were no embarrassing questions, and the ceremony was
beautiful. Joyce was my maid of honor. I think she cried more
than I did. Mom outdid us all.

Instead of a honeymoon, Emil and I packed to head off to college.
He is majoring in business, and I'm taking general courses, with
a slight emphasis on those needed for a teaching degree. Mostly
we intend to enjoy school, and each other's company.