School Of Sex
- 3 years ago
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BethChapter 45 free porn video
August 14, 2017
Dear Ms. Diary,
Shortly after we woke, it came back to all of us that we won the state championship yesterday! We were suitably giddy for some time, but Heather’s thigh began claiming her attention, so we got out of bed to deal with that and start the day.
Dad had the sports page of the local paper on the kitchen table when we arrived for breakfast. We read the front-page account with renewed giddiness. It got a couple minor things wrong, but it was pretty good.
After Sandy drove Heather to “that” house, I wrote for many hours endeavoring to get caught up, while Rhee read more of this diary. About 2:30, Rhee interrupted my writing.
“I think I’m going through withdrawal.”
I looked at her and asked, “Of Heather?”
“Yeah. It’s not anything in particular, I’m just missing her presence. Without her here, it’s like there’s a ... little jolt of electricity that’s missing from the atmosphere.”
I stood, crawled onto the bed, and wrapped myself around her.
“Yeah,” I said, “she has a presence. To me, she’s always crackling, waiting to bring her mind, her wit, her eye-crinkling smile to bear.”
Rhee nodded and said, “That’s more like it. I was trying to find that. You’re more poetic than I am.”
She kissed me and went back to reading; I went back to writing, catching up to this sentence at 4:37.
[Added August 15]
When I got caught up, Rhee quit reading.
“Are you excited? Nervous?”
“Yes and yes,” I responded. “Nervous enough to consider backing out, actually. But I won’t.”
I inhaled deeply.
“I need to do something that approaches normality. Perhaps I should ask to go to dinner or a movie or ... something.”
Rhee stood, pulled me up from my chair, and wrapped me in a gentle hug.
“I suggest, then, that you not go somewhere elegant, as that’s certainly not normal for any of us. Take him to the Thai place. From there, you could just walk through town, talking, window shopping.”
I leaned back so that I could look at her face.
“I am not more poetic than you are, we’re just differently poetic. That’s a wonderful idea, Love. That would probably calm my jitters. I love you... so much!”
We held each other for a few minutes, then separated. She began stripping the bed. I smiled at her, then stepped into the closet to grab fresh linens. We finished stripping and remaking the bed. Rhee began dressing, which caused my butterflies increased agitation.
When Rhee’s head poked through her T, she looked at me.
“You’re shaking.”
She wrapped me tightly.
“I’ve never seen you like this. You’re always so ... relatively calm. It’s just Dad. You know he loves you. There’s no reason to be this nervous. Nothing much different will happen tonight, and, if you’re really too nervous, nothing at all new needs to happen tonight. Just be yourself, the wonderful, strong, caring girl who’s had my heart for years. The girl who didn’t blanch at leading us to a win over the state’s 800-pound gorilla. The girl who has stood up to bullies and assholes as long as I can remember.
“Take it one step at a time. Dinner. Chatting. Walking. Chatting. Joking. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.”
I chuckled at that last bit.
“Oh, Rhee. You’re right. I don’t know why it’s hitting me like this. It’s only a few more inches. Well ... a few more inches twice, or so.”
With that, my face flushed, and Rhee snickered in my ear.
“Hang on. I’ll be right back.”
Rhee pulled on a pair of shorts and headed downstairs.
I almost laid out on the bed but decided to leave that expanse of sheet pristine for the time being. I sat in my chair, thinking hard about why I was so nervous. As Rhee said, nothing significantly different will happen tonight. Well, that’s not quite true. Nothing particularly physically significant will happen. It seems, despite my sexual proclivity leaning toward the lesbian side of the spectrum, this “losing virginity” thing has a stronger hold on my psyche than I imagined. Much stronger. I pondered that, remembering aspects of all of the sex I’ve had, often with fingers inside me ... fingers of five other people, one of whom is the man I hope to make love with tonight.
That last caused me to think. “Is it just the ‘scheduled’ aspect of it,” I wondered, that the act was not going to take place organically, a result of an otherwise not-so-exceptional evening with someone I love. Would I not be nervous if I didn’t “know” what was going to happen, what was “scheduled” to happen?
Rhee was so right. Just go to dinner with Dad, like I have done so many times before. Just hang out with the coolest, most wonderful dad on the planet. I nodded my head. See what happens and make decisions at the time. I can always change my mind. I nodded again as I heard footsteps on the stairs.
I was confused at first that there were two sets of footsteps, but I realized some of what Rhee had done. I looked up as Dad knocked on the jamb.
“Might I come in,” he asked.
“Of course, Dad.”
I saw him glance at the bed and, after a slight hesitation, nod. He walked to me and opened his arms. I stood and let him envelop me. After about 10 seconds, he leaned back.
“May I pick something for you to wear?”
I nodded at him; he stepped back.
“Where do I start?”
I moved to the dresser and opened my panties drawer. He looked in, did some very slight rummaging, and pulled out a peach-colored cotton brief; he held it open by my feet. I stepped into it and he pulled the panty up and ensured the fit.
I moved to the wardrobe and opened the right door, where hung my button-down tops. Ostensibly, he had a large choice of tops. Given that it was hot outside, I would reject, but he would probably not pick, the various black and other very dark options. He slid hangers back-and-forth for a while, then said, “How about dresses?”
I led him to the closet and turned all the lights on. Again, he slid hangers around, then pulled out an ocean blue, shallow V-neck midi with tiny white dots. I smiled at him; it was a good choice. After taking the dress off the hanger, he bunched it up and lifted it over my head. I raised my arms and he slid the dress onto them and down my torso, shaking out the lower part when he was done. I turned him around and pointed him back into the room, turned the lights off, and followed him. I opened my sock drawer, from which he extracted a pair of peach-colored ankle socks. He knelt and put them on my feet.
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