The drive from Portland to SEATAC felt both long and short. My heart was heavy and I felt the sadness of leaving as I drove away from the Portland area. It had been a *fucking incredible week* highlighted by *incredible fucking.* But it was more than that. Abby and I had been drawn incredibly close to each other during the recent time we spent together. It had me going back and forth on the wisdom of this "time out" that we were doing.

By the time I reached Olympia, my thoughts had me remembering how I felt the time I came here in June 1985. At that time, it was seven months after my ex-wife and I had separated. By then, I knew that I was going to get through whatever my marriage would throw at me. As I drove through Olympia, I had this similar feeling. Whatever life threw at me (and Abby), we'd get through it. She had gotten through the earlier parts with the death of her sister and mother, as had I. No one knew what life held in store for us.

"The Mountain" (Mount Rainier) was very definitely "out" this day, as the people in the region liked to say on these clear days. I arrived at SEATAC and waited for the flight from Atlanta to arrive at the gate (Again, something we can't do anymore). When my little group arrived, I greeted them. My son was quite happy to see me and be back on a trip with me. We claimed their luggage and then headed north to Seattle to the first hotel of many over the next week. That began our sightseeing tour of the Pacific Northwest for the next week. We saw many of the "standard sights." My son remembered many of them from the previous summer with my mom and I. I tried not to cross-reference the places my ex-wife and I had been to when she came out with me in July 1984. I was so hopeful for the recovery of my marriage when she came out with me. Those were hard days for me back then as I got a real sense of how troubled our marriage was. But these were also many of the same places where I took my mom, so I cast all comments about past visits in the context of that 1985 trip with my mom. Later in the week, when we arrived in the Portland/Vancouver area, I couldn't help but wonder what Abby was doing.

We had good weather during most of the trip with one very rainy day as we headed back north from the Portland area towards Mount Saint Helen's and Mount Rainier. We went someplace new nearly every day. We finally ended up at a hotel near the SEATAC airport the night before departing for NC. We flew back to NC the following Sunday so that our children to go back to school that started in late August.

I didn't talk to Abby until after I returned home to Raleigh. She left a couple of messages on my answering machine saying that she just wanted to hear my voice on my answering machine greeting because she was missing being with me. It had been a fantastic week for Abby and I together.

Abby asked if I slept with this woman friend of mine while she was out in the Pacific Northwest with me. If there was jealousy, or even possessiveness, she hid it well.

"No, she was here with her daughter and brought my son out to be with me. I slept in one bed with my son and she slept in the other with her daughter," I said. Our kids got along well and the most exciting part for them was "continental breakfast." Abby knew that this relationship had become sexual and also knew there were some real frustrations I had with her and seemed like she was asking more out of curiosity.

In the meantime, Abby and her dad, and Stephanie and her parents had travelled down to Corvallis together to get ready for Abby and Stephanie's move there. The fall session started much later than I thought of as a start to a university calendar and it was so different from the semester system that I was accustomed to. Stephanie and Abby were spending much time together since Troy was traveling with his parents (two women missing their men) and I was back in NC.

What I found out (later) was Oregon State, like many universities at the time, required freshman that had just graduated from high school to live in university housing their freshman year. However, they also had an off campus abode where they could go off campus. It was owned by Stephanie's parents and they had it as rental property prior to Stephanie's graduation from high school. I saw this same type of thing occur when I was in college, though it was rare because even with in-state tuition, you had to have enough money to cover the cost of the university housing and off campus housing. This gave Stephanie and Abby a great deal of privacy and freedom to be less constrained by the university housing rules.

Neither one of them broadcast that was what they were doing during their freshman year and the place became their legitimate residence after their freshman year. But once I knew what they were up to, I realized that they really could have put me up as their *sex slave* to service them and whoever else they may have included. From time to time, I fantasize about that; what would it have been like to live there to be satisfied and to satisfy these women.... I was more committed to being in NC for my son, though, than I was for being sexually gratified. Still, I wonder....

Abby and I had a loose schedule of keeping in contact with each other. I told her that I didn't want to be like her dad or seem like a hovering former lover that just wouldn't go away. Abby told me that she would never think of me that way.

"Well, there may come a time when you do," I told her. "What we have is not *normal* in this society. It may be (normal) for the area where you've grown up or in places where you can marry your 15 year old cousin. What we have is certainly legal but not normal."

I was referring to our age gap. I told her that it was more likely to become even more apparent as time went on and then might become less of an issue as she reached her and late 30's and I approached age 50. Then that age difference might disappear for a while until I reached my 60's or 70's. As I write this, I am age 72 and Abby will be just reaching age 58.

I told her that I'd always love her and that she might feel the same way about loving me, too. I knew, more realistically, she would likely meet someone closer to her own age where the relationship that developed felt wonderful and more complete than anything we experienced simply because of time together and commonality in developmental experiences. Sex wasn't everything in a relationship and I knew that then. But lots of sex, good sex, in a committed relationship could help relationships stay strong. Abby's mom and dad and their relationship illustrated that in what I saw as a committed, though not sexually exclusive, relationship.

"I will love you AND be happy, for you."

I also reiterated what I had told her before: if we both chose to put our lives together to see what was possible and go from there, then we might see a different happy ending. Either way, I wanted her to be happy with her life, grow and see what was possible for her out in the world. There was wisdom in this way of thinking and way of being. My brother found that out the hard way only six years later when, as a 36 year old, he had gotten involved with a young woman half his age (1😎. When she went off to a university in Virginia, my brother got crowded out of her life by the growth she experienced. Although I and others tried to warn him, he ended up having a really a heartbreaking experience as she grew into her own adulthood.

That autumn of 1986 brought lots of changes. Some were expected, some weren't. My female companion from the Pacific Northwest trip, had bought a condo in the spring. It was completed and ready for her to move into during the same time that Abby was moving to Corvallis. My mom accepted a transfer position to Nashville after living all her life in the Washington, DC area. She moved in November to a very nice golf community complex there. I went to DC before she moved and to Nashville sometime shortly after she moved. And I, of course, was busy with my job and the responsibilities associated with joint custody of my son.

On one of our first calls between Abby and I occurred after she was on campus and about to start classes. There was excitement in her voice about the whole experience. She understood what Catie and I had both told her about the world she was moving into when we told her it had "no memory" of her and the sort of blank slate that came with it. So very different from high school, she told me. My own experiences had the same observation.

It was sometime in early October when I called her to see how the first couple of weeks had been going. By this time, Abby had experienced her first home college football games and a couple of weeks on campus. I could tell something had was different just in the way she was talking to me.

"Abby, what's happened?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing," Abby said. I knew that probably wasn't true.

"Abby, remember who you're talking to, what we've been through together, and the hours we've spent talking together."

"Can you talk about it now? Or do you need more privacy?" I asked. Abby told me that she was alone and that she could talk.

"I feel guilty and embarrassed telling you," Abby said.

"Abby, I've watched shit come out of your ass. We've sucked, fucked and made love to each other while we've been expelling enemas full of our shit! It's more *embarrassing* than that?" I asked. I was rarely that blunt.

Abby was quiet for a moment. "Okay, maybe just guilty," she said.

"You know how I've been missing you during the past month," Abby said.

"Yes, I've been missing you, too. Why do you feel guilty?" I asked.

"Because I slept with Troy," she said. There was a moment of silence where neither of us said anything. Now, there was a twist. Instead of Stephanie sleeping with Abby's boyfriend (me), Abby was sleeping with Stephanie's boyfriend.

"Does Stephanie know?" I asked.

"Yes. She was there. She was the one who suggested it."

"You agreed to it? " I asked

"Yes," she said.

"Okay, why the sense of guilt?" I asked.

"Because I was lonely and Stephanie knew I was missing you, so she suggested that the two of us share him like we did you."

"Did Stephanie actually say that? Does Troy know that I've fucked Stephanie before?" I asked.

Abby told me that Stephanie didn't actually say that, but Abby knew that's what she meant. She didn't know whether Troy knew about Stephanie, Abby and me, and what we had done previous to him coming into her life or afterward.

She told me what had happened. They had come back from the football game the first weekend after classes had started. The team had lost and afterwards, she, Stephanie, and Troy had gone to "the apartment" after going out to eat together at some local place. She told me that they were having a normal conversation between the three of them while the television was on in the background showing some college football game.

"After the football game, Troy was here with Stephanie and one thing led to another and then I was in bed with her and Troy."

"And you didn't know about it or plan for it ahead of time?" I asked.

"No," Abby said. "What about Troy?" I asked. "Did he know about this ahead of time?"

"I don't think so. He seemed as surprised as I was," she said. "I was thinking about leaving and going back to the dorm so the two of them could be alone together when she suggested that we get naked and have some fun together." That certainly sounded like the Stephanie i knew.

She described what happened next as they turned off the television and turned on the stereo for some music. The three of them undressed each other in the living room and Troy was suddenly facing two naked women in front of him.

"I hope he was nice and hard," I said to Abby. Abby giggled. "Oh, yes. He was. I don't think he knew what to do next once we were all naked."

Abby told me that Stephanie sat down on the couch and was laying back with her legs spread to invite Troy to do something. He dropped down to his knees and started eating Stephanie's pussy. I asked Abby what she did and she told me that she handled it just like whenever she was in bed with me while I was attending to one of her friends.

"I stroked him. His ass, his balls, reached under and stroked his cock." I knew how that felt, the way she helped without being too distracting. "I slid my fingers up in his ass. That made him cum," she said. She told me that suddenly he rose up on his knees and was trying to move forward towards Stephanie. He shot his cum onto Stephanie up to her breasts, the front of the couch, and the floor. I asked if he "cleaned-up" the cum on Stephanie. She indicated that he did not, but she did.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yes. He's not part dog like you are," Abby told me. I laughed at that.

Abby described how she moved in after he had finished cumming (and started to apologize) and sucked up the cum that Troy had spurted onto Stephanie. Abby told me that she started with the cum that he had gotten onto her pussy and then worked her way up Stephanie's stomach until she got to the cum just below her breasts. And then she sucked Stephanie's breasts before she got up on the couch and straddled Stephanie to share Troy's cum.

"I don't think he's ever seen two girls suck each other's breasts or share cum like that," Abby said. I asked if they offered to share his cum with him. She told me that they had but he just wasn't into it. Abby and Stephanie apparently made quite a show of passing his cum between them until they both swallowed it. But Troy didn't really know what to do.

"I wanted a cock inside me, so bad, while we were doing that" Abby said. "I wanted your cock inside me," she added. "It didn't matter where. You would have known what to do." Troy apparently got hard again watching Abby and Stephanie.

I asked what happened next. Abby said they got up and took Troy by the hand and led him back to one of the bedrooms where they all got into bed together. That was when Stephanie suggested that Abby had been missing my cock and that Troy could help Abby out.

"So, you agreed to that?" I asked.

"Well, it's true. I do miss us being with you and having your cock inside me," she said. I thought "oh, the simple life of an 18-year old." But what I was trying to get at was if this was consensual.

"Yea, I agreed to it," Abby finally said.

I asked her how it or how he was. Abby admitted that it felt good to have his cock slide into her, to thrust in and out of her, to cum with him inside her and then to feel him cum inside her. She said that it was *satisfying*. But she also said "He's not you and I wished it was you inside me, instead of him."

I thanked her for that compliment and told her that she would likely find that to be true from time to time. But I also told her that she was likely to find, as she gained more sexual experience, that no guy is like any other. That there might be similarities, there will be things she'd like and things she wouldn't. She went on to explain how the rest of the night went and how the three of them spent the night together.

"You're not upset?" she asked. I told her I wasn't. I reminded her that even though it was "a long time ago," discovering new things about herself and other people was one of the things that often happens on a campus like that. "Just don't live it up so much, that you can't live it down," I told her. Not an original quote. but something I would say from time to time. I also told her that she might have to establish some clear boundaries with Troy and Stephanie about what was acceptable to her. Abby understood that she might have to set those limits.

"You know what I miss?" Abby asked.

"Besides having my cock deep inside you, filling you with as much cum as I can produce?" Abby laughed.

"Well, yes. No, it's the foreplay and the after-play. But it's really the after-play (that's what we called it). You almost always feel so close to me like we're never really "done." Does that make any sense?"

I told her that it did and that part of it isn't instinctual and I learned to treat my sexual partners in a way that was different than instinct. Our conversation carried on along those lines for a while. We talked about her desire for a threesome. "Maybe you could teach Troy some pointers," she said to me.

Abby also made a proposition for me to come out there in live in the apartment for a month while I was writing my reports. It was a variant of their previous idea of me being their sex slave. "You could write when we're not here, and we could fuck whenever we liked."

"You have classes, studying, and homework," I reminded her. She liked the idea of being cuddled up in bed with me while she studied and then when she needed a break from studying, she could slide my cock into her. It was a lighthearted conversation. Part serious, part fanciful.

At the end of the call, I asked if she felt better? She told me she did. I told her that it was okay to miss me, because I missed her, too.

"But please, no guilt?" I requested.

Our lives went on as she immersed herself in classes and the university environment. We still chatted frequently. She found a very different environment on the college campus, just as we had promised her. There were more males on the campus than females (though the ratio was much better there in 1986 than they were in North Carolina in 1971). She had dating experiences mostly around the sporting events on campus, at least to start. She did occasionally ask if I'd be coming back out to Oregon.

She did finally get to experience sex with multiple guys (sadly, I wasn't a part of that when it happened. Maybe it was just as well that I wasn't *cumpeting* with a bunch of college-aged men). The funniest thing about the experiences she did share with me was how she had to teach these younger guys she got involved with to be better lovers. I was the metric that she was using. If I could do it (as an older guy), so could they. I told her that the advantage of 14 years age difference was that I had much more experience than any of the guys she might be going out with.

In one of our meetings several years later, when I was back in Portland (as was she during summer break) she told me that I had taught her so much; not only about sex in some of the outrageous things that we had done together, but about love, tenderness, what it is like to really care for a person, and what that looks like beyond sexual attraction. She appreciated these latter elements as she matured in her view and experiences.

"Some of these guys are real jerks and losers," Abby told me (more than once on the phone). I knew that she would find that out soon enough and that, in some ways, it was even worse on a college campus than what she saw in high school. But once she got beyond feeling guilty for being attracted to other guys and feeling some way "unfaithful" to me and what we had been together, she began to appreciate some of the things that I had told her about my life and how it looked to me. Like I reminded her about the way she felt about leaving her dad in the spring of 1986 and feeling the uncertainty of whether she should leave him alone in the big house all by himself, her dad assured her that he would be fine, as would I.

When Abby and I saw each other, they were during the summers when I was working there in and around the Portland area. Sometimes I would only be there for a day or two and we missed each other (though we talked for hours). But both our circumstances had changed. She was no longer the high school senior that I met and slept with as her first lover. Oh, I knew that I held a very special place in her heart and there was no doubt about that.

Abby matured and became the young woman that I could see under development and construction while we were together. Eventually, she had a steady boyfriend that she met on campus and really liked. It was in a mostly monogamous relationship with him though the two of them first met during one of those times when she wanted to have more than one guy. His name was Scott and he knew about Abby's tendencies. More importantly, he knew about me and how Abby's sexual experiences really began with her sister and I.

Similarly, my relationship with my female companion at the end of the summer of 1986 also turned monogamous. It wasn't nearly as sexually adventuresome as my time between September 1985 and September 1986 when Abby and I went our separate ways. But monogamy with her provided some sanity needed to be parents to our children. My new partner wasn't into all the things I had gotten myself into. It wasn't flavorless sex (or what people would call vanilla sex), but it wasn't nearly so adventuresome and there were lots of reasons for that.

Maybe it wasn't so strange for two people who found each other in polyamorous circumstances had migrated to monogamous relationships. Years later I realized that it was all part of the compromises one often settles for to avoid contentiousness in a relationship when desires are mismatched.

The last time I saw Abby before either of us were married was in the summer of 1990 after she had graduated from Oregon State. Her dad was selling that big house that she had grown up in and had plans to move. I had just turned 37 years old and I was in the Pacific Northwest for something that was part work-related but mostly vacation related. I went solo-backpacking around Mount Rainier (the Wonderland Trail) before trying again to summit the mountain. I had planned for a two-week trip around the mountain, a week of recovery and then the summit climb. My dad was coming out to join me later in the trip in my role as tour guide towards the end of the trip.

Unfortunately, a few days into the trip (about 25 miles in), I sprained my knee. The good news was I had access to really cold water from the glacier meltwater to help with the swelling. But after a couple of days, I concluded that I needed to find my way back out from after being about 27 miles into the 100 mile trip. I walked my way by a different set of trails and headed to the Portland area to recuperate. If I couldn't hike around the mountain, I was going to take some time and hang out at Rooster Rock on the Columbia River. It was a extremely warm period for the Portland area with temperatures at or near 100 degrees.

I was staying at a hotel in Vancouver, Washington (they liked to call it Vancouver, USA) off NE 134st and I-5, when Abby came to visit me. My knee was still swollen and I was sitting in the hotel with my knee supported by pillows and using ice packs.

I had seen her grow up over the past couple of years. She was a beautiful young woman, now 22 years of age, a graduate of Oregon State University and considering whether she wanted to go to grad school. As I mentioned, she had found a nice guy who was now filling her with his cum. She still liked that feeling of being filled with a guy's cum though she really liked it most when It was someone she cared about and someone who cared about her.

We hadn't been sexually intimate since I left her at her house in 1986. And we had only seen each other twice since then when I was in Portland on a trip. I had told her where I was staying and she told me that she would drop by to see me.

She knocked on the door and I hobbled to the door to open it, an ace bandage around my knee. We hugged and kissed like two people who were formerly intimate, and who still cared about each other, often do. I got back on the bed and we talked about how it happened, how I was doing, and I unwrapped the bandage so she could see the swelling. It still hurt even though the OTC medication did dull the pain. We talked for something like 15-20 minutes before we went to get some lunch. There was a Burgerville just up the street where we went to have lunch.

We heard lots of sirens travelling on the two nearby interstate highways (I-5 and I-205) and when we came out from lunch, we saw a crowd gathered on the bridge overlooking I-205. It was an accident that had occurred on the northbound lanes of I -205 under and just beyond the bridge we were standing on. There was a truck and at least two cars that we could see involved in the collision. We could see the EMTs treating people from the vehicles. Abby was standing beside me as we looked. Even though it had been more than four and a half years since the accident, I knew right away that this was triggering for Abby and after a brief look to see what had happened and what was going on, we needed to move on.

I pointed up towards the ambulances and said something to Abby about the people looking like they weren't seriously hurt. One of the cars was pretty mangled by the 18-wheeler. I later heard that it was a tire blowout that caused the collision. Anyway, as I pointed that out to Abby, there was a guy to my right that was looking at her (I would say leering, actually) and he got all agitated about me pointing as if I was putting my hand in his face. I realized this scruffy looking guy was most likely drunk. But, to de-escalate the situation, I apologized and told him that I meant no disrespect. He wasn't going to take the apology and became more threatening.

I turned towards him, not to face him, but to present a minimal target and to be braced in the event he charged at me. With my bum knee, I wanted to be able to throw him aside while being well-braced. All of this was pretty much automatic without thinking about it. I was pretty calm about it. But in the back of my mind I was worried about Abby, the fact that this asshole was trying to engage me, that I was nearly 3,000 miles away from home and didn't need this aggravation. I felt Abby move around behind me.

This time, still calm and more forcefully, I offered my apology and that there was no intent or meaning of disrespect. He still wasn't backing off. He called me, well I won't post what he called me and then continued with "I'm going to kick your [epithet] ass." It was designed to provoke me and I felt myself tense for just a fraction of a second before I caught myself telling myself "breathe."

"You're welcome to think that and to try to kick my ass. I'll even give you the first the first shot" (no guns were involved, mind you. It was just a phrase of speech). "But with all these witnesses, you better make it a good one, because you're not going to get a second chance." He looked around at everyone that were looking at us. There were two police cars on the far end of the bridge that I could see because they were in my line of sight. Somebody was hustling down towards one of the police officers to let him know there was an incident about to happen. The officer began to hustle across the bridge towards us. The second officer got out of his car and also started coming our way.

"So, if I were you, I'd walk away before those police officers get down here and you have a really bad day." That was enough to dissuade this character. He called me a [string of expletives] and walked away. The first officer stopped this guy to question him and the second officer stopped to listen and be back up, just in case. They had this guy sit down on the curb. Abby and I were ready to leave but watched what was happening. The second officer came down and talked to me/us. I recounted what happened to the officer. Others around us backed up my story.

"Well, we know who he is and he appears to be under the influence. Do you want to press charges?"

"No, I don't live here and I don't really want to come back to prosecute him." In that case they were going to call a family member to come pick him up. He asked where I was staying and I indicated the hotel just beyond the bridge. He took down my information, thanked me and told me that I could go. Abby and I started back to the hotel.

I didn't need to have my trip ruined like that. I said something to Abby about that.

"What were you going to do to him?" Abby asked.

"I was going let him take the first swing or lunge and then I was going to drop him on the sidewalk. I don't think he was in condition to put up a big fight," I told her. I knew that might not be true with drunks. But coordination wasn't going to be his strong suite. My knee was hurting and I was ready to get some more ice on it.

Abby and I got back to my hotel room. I took some more pain relief medication while Abby fixed me a couple of ice bags for both sides of my knee. She pulled the covers back on the bed, positioned the pillows to go under my knee, stripped me out of my running shorts and tee shirt, and then had me get on the bed (naked). After putting one ice pack under my knee and the other on top, she stripped out of her clothes and joined me. Her boyfriend had fucked her that morning and he had a thing about her panties being soaked with (his) cum. Her vagina was wet with her juices and his cum. Abby settled down on my mouth so that I could look up her abdomen while she rode my mouth and tongue and while I reached up and squeezed her breasts and nipple from this position.

Abby reiterated I was a relatively rare breed in that I didn't object to eating her pussy that had been filled with (his) cum just a few hours before. He would eat her pussy after cumming in her but wasn't quite as enthusiastic about it as I was. When Abby had enough of my tongue and mouth action she slid back down my body and slid down on my cock. She didn't want me to hurt my knee any further and so she would do "all the work." Soon enough, Abby had me cumming inside her and she laid down on my chest when I finished cumming.

"That's what I remember," she said as she laid there upon me. I hadn't expected this at all. After laying there with me in the afterglow, she was ready for another round. I hadn't fallen out of her yet, so she disconnected us, turned around and plopped her freshly filled pussy down on my mouth and then sat up to let my cum drain into my mouth. Just as her boyfriend was so erotically inclined to do this with Abby, my girlfriend was also similarly less overt about doing this compared to Abby. Abby took my cock into her mouth and got me hard again and then, once I was hard, played with my cock and varied the angle of her pussy over my mouth and tongue. Abby moved down my body and slipped my cock into her once again in the reverse cowgirl position. A fantastic view of her ass as she rode me. Different friction and different pressure. Soon she felt me getting ready to cum (which I did) and then right after that she took me out of her pussy and slid my cock up her ass before I softened very much. She wanted to finish our afternoon with a little ass fucking; first, in reverse cowgirl position and then turning to face me in the standard cowgirl position so that we could kiss and I could kiss, suck and fondle her breasts in the runup to my orgasm.

After I had cum in her ass and we were laying there, we were talking about our respective significant others. Although we both adored our respective lovers, Abby and I were still "the current gold standard" for each other when it came to sexual fulfillment. Late in the afternoon, Abby told me that she needed to get home and got dressed to leave. Her panties would now be wet with her boyfriend's cum and mine.

"And when he fucks me tonight, he'll be fucking into and adding to your cum, just like you did to his," Abby said. Just that thought of that made her cum. At least she hadn't lost her love of and desire for cum inside her body. She washed my cock off before she left and asked me for the second key to the room. I gave it to her without thinking about it. I wasn't even supposed to be here. I was supposed to be out on the Wonderland Trail for at least another week and then to climbing school for recertification after I had completed my backpacking trip. Well, if I played my cards right, my knee would feel better for the climbing school and the planned climb about a week after that.

Abby used that key to let herself in several times during the week. She was always welcome, of course, and our times together were a wonderful re-establishment of our sexual relationship if only for a short time.

In the meantime, the swelling went down and as my knee started healing and I felt I could do more walking, I could spend some of my days out at Rooster Rock on the nude beach.

Abby came down and joined me at the nude beach a couple of days when she could get out there. I avoided playing volleyball because of my knee (I watched her play). On one of the last days there, Abby joined me and we took a beach bag with towels and water to drink and walked around to the north side of the island on the Columbia River. There weren't many people out there because it was a weekday. We found our spot, put down our towels and made love out there on the river all afternoon. The Empire Builder came up the other side of the river while we were making love. As it went by, I brought my fingers to my lips, kissed them and extended my fingers in tribute to Catie. "

"Thank you, Catie," I said.

Abby, seeing what I did, stopped and did the same thing. "Thank you, Sis." We resumed making love and after cumming again, we laid there on the beach towels together when Abby asked me, "if Mom and Sis hadn't died, where do you think we'd all be?" She meant if the accident hadn't happened or if it wasn't as severe and deadly as it had been.

"I don't know, Abby. I think your sister and I would be married; hopefully, with two heathy three-year old children. Your mom and dad would hopefully be living full lives together. You might or might not know about their swap parties. That's hard to say. Glenna and your dad wouldn't be together like they are. I'm fairly certain you would have graduated college. There's no way of knowing how things would have been different or the same in what you've done or who you've met."

"What about you and I," she asked.

"I think that your sister, you and I would still be playing together if you and she were still amenable to it. We'd go on ski vacations together and do crazy things together. Yes, I think there would still be a 'you and I.' But the path we would have taken, what we learned and when, and all the interplay of a million different things would have been different. Even the way I feel in love with you would seem and feel different but I can't tell you how. What do you think?" I asked.

Abby thought for a moment before saying "I think you're right." She went on to say what she might have experienced differently while coming out at very nearly the same place.

"No matter what differences would have occurred, I can tell you this Miss Abigail. I would still love you and will always love you."

Abby laid her head beside mine as we embraced on the sand (actually on the towels on the sand).

"I love you, too, Gary."