Community
Copyright© 2012 by oyster50
Chapter 67
Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 67 - The ongoing adventures of Cindy, Tina, Nikki and Susan as the odd group of intelligent young ladies tackle college, family, friends and life with love and good humor. If you haven't read "Cindy", "Christina" and "Nikki", you're going to be lost on a lot of what's happening here. Do yourself a favor and back up and read those stories first.
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Geeks
Tina's turn:
I fear I've been eclipsed. I'm not mad, I'm not sad, actually I'm quite content. Among the sisterhood, seriously, there are two tiers. Cindy and Nikki occupy the top tier, even though they're the younger two, and Susan and I occupy the lower tier.
I can't do, academically, what Nikki and Cindy do. I'm only slightly jealous. After all, while those two waltzed out of a four year (plus, in a lot of cases) degree program in a year, I and Susan will have to take two whole years, so I'm not a slouch by any means. Part of the joys in my life is seeing what happens with those two.
So I'm eclipsed by Nikki and Cindy. I can live with that. I'm also in the shadow of my step-daughter, the fearsome pTerri-dactyl.
It's a subject of giggles, really. We picked up Terri only weeks before my high school graduation. It's a good thing in two ways. One, Terri is absolutely lovable and we've bonded, to use the contemporary pseudo-psychological terminology. The fortunate thing with that 'few weeks' is that if we'd've had her for much longer, she would've probably graduated WITH me.
I wear many hats now: wife, mother, college student, engineering intern, friend, cook, and with Terri, minion.
That last would be 'teacher'. We're 'home-schooling' Terri and our neighbors' daughter, Rachel. Rachel's mom, Beck, and I take turns with the 'teaching' of two precocious daughters. Rachel is to Terri as I am to Cindy and Nikki. In my own pond, I'd be the big frog, but this isn't the little pond, this is a prehistoric pond with other denizens the size of pickup trucks.
And that's the worst thing to happen to me – I'm surrounded by people who love me and some of them are smarter than me. I shall pine appropriately.
Alan and I are having some 'alone' time. Terri has strategically taken off on an excursion with Susan and Jason in search of her beloved fried onion rings. She knows that she's giving me and her dad some time to ourselves where I can make a little noise or maybe run around the apartment naked chasing Alan or vice versa. That's as deep as having Terri around has cut into what is a very happy and satisfactory sex life.
I honestly can't think of an aspect of my life that isn't happy and satisfactory, except one. Again, I have reason to be jealous of Cindy. This is in the 'Mom' arena.
Cindy's mom came back. Yeah, it messed Cindy up pretty bad, and in that, it traumatized all of us, because we just are not used to seeing Cindy NOT on top of the world, usually in that little 'Who? Me?!?' thing she does when she's trying to NOT show off. But here comes her mom.
We've all pretty well shared our stories with each other, me, Nikki, Cindy ... Susan's in there too, but Susan's mom is cut from the cloth of the 'June Cleaver' variety of moms, giving us the baseline from which to assess departures on the parts of our own moms. Nikki and I both had considerable time in the care of grandmothers who loved us and were as bewildered with their daughters' shenanigans as we were. Cindy never had that. She was with her mom the whole time, and she's got stories, just like we all do.
I guess we were all expecting some brassy hussy to show up. All Cindy had to go on was a letter that her mom was coming to visit because she really didn't have a home, and that she was making some changes in her life.
We're expecting the archetypical bargirl. What we got ... Cindy was REALLY astounded. After all, she had fourteen years of exposure. All we had were stories, and if I didn't know Cindy and trust her with my life, then I would've thought she was making the mom stories up all along.
The woman that showed up was nice, soft-spoken, intelligent, self-deprecating, pleasant, causing Cindy to tell us that somewhere there was a pod containing her real mom and that this person was an alien construct.
I still have not heard word one from my mom. I know which facility she's in over in Arkansas. It's funny in a sad way. Two states fought over who got to prosecute her. Arkansas won.
I've written. Sent pictures. Have not received a reply. I'd be more hurt, but honestly, I think in my heart of hearts that had I gone to Arkansas with her and her boyfriend, I would've ended up dead. Make that 'drugged, raped and dead'.
Instead ... the lady was nice. She joined in the conversations at our get-togethers, but she wasn't pushy or obnoxious nor did she use inappropriate language. And she sounded intelligent. Vocabulary. Snippets of knowledge. Catching the barbs and puns that fly through our conversations like a swarm of insects.
Cindy got us all together on campus a week into this.
"It's just NOT the mom that left me in Alabama," she said, sighing. "I know it's her. Same tattoos. That's why she wears slacks and long sleeves. Doesn't wanna show 'em."
"It might be she's trying to distance herself from her past, Cin," Susan said. "And you said she used to smoke. That's a tough thing to give up, I've heard."
"I know," Cindy said. "And when we went to get her stuff from the motel she stayed at the first night she was here, it was a non-smoking room. And you KNOW how that reek stays with you."
Consensus nods were given.
"We're here for you, Cindy," Nikki said. "And for your mom, if she needs us."
"We both might before this is over with," Cindy said.
I'm trying to parse a 'down' Cindy. It's just something that never existed before. "Little sister," I interjected, "let's see how it works out. This could be really good."
"You all don't understand. I didn't have to hate 'er for those years because she just wasn't there. Now she's here, and I have these feelings. I mean, she's my Mom, and I love 'er because of that, but I have these feelings too, and they're not good ones."
"Look," I said. "You're here partly because your mom did what she did, just like the rest of us. Susan's the only one that's here because her mom DIDN'T screw up."
"Yeah," Nikki added. "If mine was responsible I'd've ended up somewhere with her and that loser who helped her enter the service of the State of Arkansas herself." She paused, put her hand on Cindy's arm. "Cindy, because my momma screwed up, I got my Dan. So did you. Different Dan, though."
"I know all that," Cindy said. "I wouldn't have you nutcases as sisters, either. I just need to get through this."
That's about the worst thing that's happened lately. Susan has her 'I can't do math' meltdown every few weeks and I take her by the hand and we visit Cindy and Nikki and we get 'er head straight. Gets my head straight, too, but I don't melt down quite as dramatically as Susan does.
"That's it!" she called me one day. "I'm changing my major to business administration."
"No you're not. Are you at home."
"Yes. And I'm gonna stay here for the rest of the semester. I've had it. Susan Carter Ellerbee does NOT have to put up with this stress!"
When I walked in, she was sitting in the only corner of her living room that sunlight couldn't hit. She was wearing a sweatsuit and her hair, that blonde hair, was up on top of her head, held in place by a big hairclip. Both hands were holding a mug of herbal tea. I could smell the mint and chamomile.
"Susan Ellerbee, my dear sister, what is WRONG with you?"
"It's all fake. They tell you it's real, but it's fake. There's NO way that all those symbols and numbers really mean something that a normal person needs to know."
There was a knock on the door. Low on the door.
"Go 'way!" I said.
"No!" it was Terri. "I need to see you 'n' aunt Susan."
"Let 'er in. I'm at the bottom," Susan said miserably. "there's only 'up' from here."
I opened the door. Terri walked in purposefully. Walked over to the sofa. Sat right down, up against Susan.
"My Aunt Susan," she said. "She looked sad when she came in. I know when things're wrong."
"Baby, you should let adults work these things out," I said. That's seldom the correct response for Terri.
"Kids can't love?" she asked. "Love always helps."
Susan put her arm around Terri and looked at me. "Terri should stay. I won't cry if Terri's here."
"I hope it's not because you don't want to cry in front of a little kid," Terri said.
"No, sweetie," Susan said, her fingers brushing Terri's equally blonde head. "It's because my Terri is part of my strength." She gave Terri a squeeze. Smiled. "Goes with the blonde hair, y'know."
Terri smiled back. "Is it math again, Aunt Susan?"
"Yeah-huh, pTerri-dactyl."
"Thought it might be. Not much else frightens you," my daughter said. "I know just what you need. Cindy'll be here. 'n' Nikki. That'll take care of the math stuff. An' Jason'll take care of the rest, huh?"
Susan looked at me. Smiled. "I'm better." She took the hairclip out of her hair and shook her head, letting her hair fall into place. "How about a coke?"
We split a can three ways. Talked. Cindy and Nikki would be back soon, and the pair are gaining a reputation around campus for being who you want to talk to when your integrals and derivatives and summations start getting crosswise in your head. I've seen the emails from more than one instructor or professor asking if they'd give a promising student a little boost.
And me? I'm still rockin' a 4.0 in class, but one evening I was feeling kind of blue. It was late. The pTerri was tucked in her bed with the requisite kisses. Alan and I were showered and satisfied with each other. And he knows.
"What's wrong, my princess?"
"I dunno, baby," I said. "I'm feeling kinda blue."
"Talk to me."
"I guess I..." and I told him what I've told you.
He soothed me with little kisses. "You're a star, baby. If you were spaced just a bit outside this galaxy, people would be writing books about you. Look at you. Two years from high school dropout to college senior, and not college senior in a crip studies course. You have a 4.0 in electrical engineering." More kisses. "People in the real world know your face. I go meet clients and your name comes up. If you go with me they recognize YOU before they recognize me."
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.