Good Medicine Junior YearChapter 65 Developing A Relationship
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Good Medicine - Junior YearChapter 40: A Night To Remember free porn video
November 2, 1983, McKinley, Ohio
“With that rigid lattice of carbon atoms on your finger? On the couch, and clothed?” I asked with a grin.
“I think you might be the first guy to NOT want to see me naked!” Milena said with a smirk.
“It has nothing to do with ‘want’ and everything to do with ‘should’.”
“I know, and yes, obviously, the couch. And ‘rigid lattice of carbon atoms’?”
“That’s ‘diamond’ to you liberal arts types!”
“Leave it to a scientist to make a diamond sound ordinary and boring!”
We sat down on the couch and she turned so she was partway across my lap with her head on my chest and with my arms around her.
“What’s bugging you?” I asked.
“Just the usual — fear of the future.”
“You’re marrying the love of your life!”
“The key word there is ‘marrying’.”
“And only having one sex partner for the rest of your life? The one you WANTED? Poor baby.”
“Hey!” Milena protested. “If I needed grief, I’d get it from my mom!”
“I take it you’re hearing the same message from her?”
“Eerily similar, as if you two cooperated!”
“How about we both know you?” I suggested. “And I know what you like with regard to intimacy. Slow, gentle lovemaking, and then cuddling naked and talking for hours. What we’re doing now, except we’re not naked and there won’t be any lovemaking.”
“Marriage doesn’t scare you?” Milena asked.
“No, quite the opposite. Not marrying scares me. I don’t want to be alone. Freedom doesn’t hold any appeal for me, and to be honest, I think freedom is a trap from which you can never escape.”
“But you believe in free will, right?”
“Moral free agency, yes. But I think pure freedom damages the soul because it provides no boundaries and no limits. The risk of pure hedonism and the total focus on self. To be truly human, you have to love and you have to give of yourself to others. And I don’t mean give physical pleasure, though that can be part of it; I mean dying to self for the sake of another. Not literally, but sometimes that’s actually necessary. In the end, pure freedom is about selfishness, and selfishness is the quickest, easiest road to hell.”
“Damn,” Milena sighed. “Where did that come from?”
“The wisdom of the Church Fathers,” I replied. “I can’t remember which Abbot or Monk said that, but I’ve heard those concepts a number of times from priests and the bishop.”
“Are you talking about sin?”
“Indirectly. In the end, you either serve yourself and Satan, or you serve others and God. I think I can take it a step further than anyone I’ve heard speak, and say that, in the end, ALL sin is selfishness — putting your wants, your desires, over those of your fellow man or God.”
“Doesn’t that make you a doormat, then?”
“Serving others isn’t about simply doing whatever they ask or giving them whatever they want. All that would do is feed THEIR selfishness. So it’s a matter of balance. We’re called to feed the hungry — I can do that by giving them food, or I can teach them to farm or help them get a job. The former is perhaps necessary in the very short term, but ultimately, it’s not good for them.”
“Give a man a fish, and he eats for a day; teach a man to fish and he eats for a lifetime.”
“Exactly. And you take into account the person’s situation and their actual needs.”
“I’m curious, if a bum asked you for money for food, would you give it to him?”
“Probably,” I replied, “though I’d be much more likely to take him some place where I could buy him a meal. If I couldn’t do that, then, yes, I probably would.”
“And if he used the $5.00, or whatever, for booze?”
“My obligation is giving alms, not what the recipient does with them! But my way takes a bit of the onus off them.”
“But if you can’t, you would give him the $5 even if you know he’s going to buy booze?” Milena asked.
“That’s the dilemma, and why I prefer my solution. But I don’t recall ever running into a bum in Harding County. Even the poorest of people have houses of one sort or another. I know the cities are different, but I don’t spend a lot of time in big cities, and McKinley has only about 25,000 people in the city limits, not counting the college.”
“Have you actually been to a big city?”
“Only if you count Cincinnati, Columbus, Toledo, or Pittsburgh. Other than Ohio, Pennsylvania, Illinois, Indiana, and Kentucky, I’ve only been in Florida, and that was one time for Disney World. Well, I suppose you can count Tennessee and Georgia, though it was only stops for food and gas when we drove, which was also the case for Indiana when we drove to Naperville to see my grandparents.”
“You really do need to see more of the country. No, strike that, of the world. If you simply go to McKinley Medical School, do your Residency at University Hospital and live in Harding or Hayes County, I think your worldview will be far too limited to be the man I think you can, and ought, to be.”
“You aren’t the first person to say that.”
“At a minimum, find a way to travel,” Milena insisted.
“I’ve considered a Eurail pass for the Summer after graduation.”
“Do it. Find a way to save the money for airfare and the rail pass, and do it. You can sleep very cheaply at hostels and eat cheaply by going to street vendors for food, or the small places the locals go which don’t try to gouge tourists like the ones on the main streets. A month in Europe will do you a LOT of good. Take Clarissa with you.”
“That was who I talked to about doing something like that. We got the idea from Glenda. But that’s a big chunk of money.”
“For an experience you’ll never regret and one you can’t repeat when you’re forty and have kids. I know this might be contrary to your very conservative approach to money, but borrowing a bit more for medical school is a trade you can make. Think of it as using your future income as a doctor to do something now which you can’t do in the future. Maybe it means waiting six extra months for the Mercedes or BMW. It’ll be worth it.”
“Porsche,” I grinned. “There is no substitute!”
“Just don’t dump it in the lake!”
“No kidding,” I chuckled, recalling Risky Business. “How did we get to talking about me instead of talking about your fears?”
“Deflection,” Milena sighed.
“Joel is the man you want to be with, to grow old with, and to have kids with. I know it. Your mom knows it. He knows it. And most importantly, YOU know it. So you sowed your wild oats, or whatever? Who cares? So you and Joel had a night or two of uninhibited sex which you think was a mistake? Big deal! So you slept with a score of guys or however many? Irrelevant! None of that means a damned thing compared to the fact you love Joel, Joel loves you, and the two of you belong together. And I’ll bet you anything you care to wager, Joel doesn’t give a damn about what happened from, say, two days before he left, until you found him again.”
“He said that.”
“Shocking,” I said dryly.
“Don’t be smug.”
“I reserve the right to be smug when it’s warranted!”
“I know it’s not my place to ask, but are you and Tasha simply lovers?”
“Yes, but also, no. It’s complicated. I guess the thing to say is we planned to marry, then realized we were being foolish, decided to become lovers, and are developing a proper adult relationship which might, or might not, lead to marriage. I’d say the odds are slightly tilted away.”
“Why?”
“I think you misunderstand — we moved from ‘marry’ to ‘never marry’ to ‘lovers’ to ‘maybe marry’. In other words, ‘slightly tilted away’ means it is far more likely than when we first became lovers.”
“Do you do ANYTHING the conventional way?” Milena asked.
I chuckled, “That’s the same question my priest asked when I introduced Kimiko on Sunday morning.”
“Is she the real deal? Or just another lover?”
“That is the burning question, which is difficult to answer at the moment. I like her, a lot, but a marriage would require her to decide to stay here when her family goes home, get a proper visa, and become Orthodox. None of those things are even remotely certain.”
“Have you talked to her about them?”
“Absolutely, though her way of thinking bothers me a bit. It’s not quite submissive, because she’s very much in control of herself. I suppose I’d call it deference, though I’m not sure that’s strong enough. Her culture basically insists she accept what amounts to the culture and traditions of her husband’s family. In Japan, that would mean the various «kami» they gave honor to, and their shrines, and so on, and with deference to his father over her own.
“Kimiko sees that, in our context, that she would adopt American culture, albeit with a somewhat more conservative bent than even I have, including what she considers American religion — Christianity. In Japan, religion is inseparable from the rest of the culture, and as such, she sees the US that way. So any conversion would be, well, almost of convenience. She’d say and do the right things, and behave the correct way, and would act the part of a good, Orthodox wife, albeit through a Japanese lens.
“As for staying here, I have the distinct impression, both from things she’s said and things she’s implied, that if I were to tell her I loved her, in the Japanese sense of that word, she would feel compelled, I guess is the right word, to say ‘yes’ and stay here, assuming she could get the necessary visa.”
“But that concerns you, doesn’t it?”
“It does. Her sense of duty and honor make certain types of decisions into obligations, and that makes me somewhat uneasy.”
“Then I have to ask if you’re making the right decision taking her as a lover.”
“Which was what I was thinking, but she made it very clear that she’s the one who decides when, and with whom, to become a woman, and that virginity isn’t something to be prized in and of itself. She explicitly stated that there is no shame in coming to the wedding bed with sexual experience, and that Shinto views sex as something natural, and most definitely not a sin.”
“That does put something of a different spin on it. Do you think your cultures and your innate beliefs about the world are compatible?”
“I think they are seriously divergent, yet interestingly, they’re also compatible.”
“The innate conservatism of both Japanese and Russian culture? And I don’t mean party politics when I say ‘conservative’, obviously.”
“Obviously, given that I’d call myself a Democrat, if I had to use a label, which I’d really prefer not to.”
“I’d say calling yourself a Democrat fits with your views about social responsibility.”
“And with Orthodox soteriology,” I replied. “What we say is that we sin alone, but we are saved together. The ‘nave’ of the church is the ‘ark’ in which all of us, together as the church, are saved.”
“Which fits right in with your comments before about selfishness.”
“Indeed. We travel to hell alone, but to heaven together. It was selfishness that led Lucifer to choose a dark alternative.”
“That is a VERY different take from what I’ve heard from preachers or priests in the past. And it’s interesting how you evangelize by not evangelizing. You just live your life according to the precepts, answer questions, and invite people to visit your church. No pressure, just authentic faith.”
“With a big pile of authentic sin, too.”
“You like to have sex; who doesn’t?! And that includes your lover, who’s a minister’s daughter!”
“It does include her, and that doesn’t make it right. It’s my weakness; I’m aware of it and I struggle with it. There are other things, too.”
“But you’re aware of them and you do your best to improve yourself, right?”
“Yes, of course. As one monk put it, ‘This is the Christian life: we fall down, we get up, we love God’. I’d say that about sums it up.”
“I love talking to you. I hope we’ll stay friends.”
“Count on it,” I replied.
November 5, 1983, McKinley, Ohio
On Saturday, after karate, Kimiko and I left the dorms to walk to Doctor Blahnik’s house. She had an overnight bag as well as a bag full of groceries which she had purchased. I carried the grocery bag and my overnight bag, and we held hands as we walked. I was very happy that Doctor Blahnik, Derek, and Milena would be away, as that gave Kimiko and I complete privacy for whatever it was she had planned. Well, beyond the obvious.
When we arrived, I unlocked the door and we went in. I took the groceries to the kitchen, then showed Kimiko the guest bedroom. We left our bags there, then went back to the kitchen. I helped her find the utensils she would need, and she began cooking dinner. I helped, when she requested, and about an hour later, we sat down to a dinner of fish, steamed rice, and steamed vegetables.
“«Itadakimasu»,” she said aloud.
“«Sōdesu ka!»” I replied.
We began eating, and I very much enjoyed the food. It was simply prepared, yet very tasty. We ate, mostly in silence, and when we finished, Kimiko served green tea and sweet cakes. After dessert, we cleaned up the kitchen, and when we finished she took my hand and led me to the bedroom. She shut and locked the door, then turned to me.
“I need to prepare the bath. Undress, please. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
She didn’t wait for an answer, but simply turned and went into the en-suite bathroom. I was surprised by what she’d said, but I suspected that despite her teasing, there WERE differences in Japanese and American sexuality of which I wasn’t aware. I heard the water running and I began to undress. I removed my rugby shirt, folded it, and put it on the chair. Next, I removed my socks, then my belt, and then my jeans, which I folded and put on the chair with my shirt. I stripped off my t-shirt, and then my briefs, put them on the chair, then sat on the edge of the bed to wait.
“Maikeru-san,” she called. “Please come to the tub.”
I got up and walked into the bathroom to find Kimiko with a towel wrapped around her waist and her beautiful small breasts and their light brown, fully erect nipples, on full display. She looked me up and down and smiled.
“Please get in,” she said. “And sit down.”
I climbed into the steaming water, which was right at the limit I could stand in terms of heat. Kimiko picked up a pitcher, filled it with water from the tub, and poured it over my head. Next, she took up a large sponge and a bar of soap and began to bathe me, starting with the top of my head and working her way down to my chest. When I was covered with lather, she filled the pitcher and poured the water over me to rinse away the suds, and repeated that three times until all the suds were gone.
“Stand, please,” she commanded.
I stood up and Kimiko started with my stomach, and worked her way down, running the sponge over my groin as if it were just another part of my body. She worked her way down to my feet, and when she was finished, instructed me to sit down. She poured water over my back and front to remove any suds that remained after I sat in the water.
“Get out, please,” she instructed.
I got out of the tub and Kimiko took one of the large, fluffy, white bath towels and dried me. When she finished, she hung up the towel, bade me to wait, then dropped her towel. I marveled at her small, firm butt, and the neatly trimmed black pubic hair which covered her mons. She climbed into the tub and sat down, then quickly washed her body. She used the pitcher to rinse the suds away, then stood, climbed out of the tub, and dried herself.
I waited for my next instructions, but Kimiko moved silently to the sink, and returned with a bottle. She opened it, poured some into her hand, then set the bottle down on the edge of the tub. She began rubbing scented oil onto my body, starting with my shoulders and ultimately working down to my feet. I was once again surprised at the way she treated my groin, oiling my semi-flaccid shaft, but not touching any more than necessary to simply cover it with oil.
When she finished applying the oil to me, she proceeded to do the same for herself, finally putting the cap back on the bottle. She took my hand and led me back to the bedroom, then turned down the comforter and top sheet.
“Get in bed, please, and lie on your back.”
I did as she asked, and she climbed in and straddled me, her knees on either side of my hips and her slick labia resting on my semi-flaccid shaft. She leaned down and kissed me softly. She clearly had a plan, so I let her continue to lead. Our tongues touched, and as we shared a soft French kiss, Kimiko began sliding her labia along my shaft, which caused me to harden. A few minutes later, she whimpered softly and shuddered.
Kimiko broke the kiss and looked deeply into my eyes, then shifted so that her labia were pressed against my glans. She wiggled and squirmed, then moved down, my glans slowly spreading her labia. There was a hitch in her breath, and she moved just enough that the tip of my glans was pressed against her maidenhead. She leaned down to French kiss me, and pushed firmly downward, tearing her hymen, and gasped into my mouth.
We continued to kiss for a couple of minutes without any movement, and then Kimiko began slowly working me into her very tight, very slick folds. She eventually got me completely inside of her, broke the kiss, sighed, and put her head on my shoulder.
“«おおきい» (Ookii!),” she said with a deep sigh.
“Sorry?”
“It’s so big,” she breathed. “It fills me completely.”
Mila
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