Quixotic Rapprochement

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Taking the money she and I had sent, I headed to an old local motel with a neon sign stating 'Vacancies'. I went to the night window and got a room for cash and had them turn on the phone for long distance calls and prepaid for ten minutes. I threw the backpack and much of the contents into their dumpster and carried the package of clean clothes with me to the room. Inside the room, I stripped nude and placed all of the clothes I was wearing into a garbage bag which I wrapped tightly. I went to the shower and washed. There in the stall, I was watching the dirt swirl down the drain and was transported back to the farm. I would go home to Emma. I didn't know if things would be like they had before, but I needed to be somewhere safe and I knew that would be the one place on earth I could find it. When I finished my shower, I called the airline and verified I could be on the first flight tomorrow. Then I made my call to Emma and told her I'd arrive tomorrow evening.


This trip to my old home was different for many reasons. The biggest difference from that trip home on the bus all those years ago was that I was flying, in first class no less. The other differences had to do with that saying 'You can never go home again', at least that was how I quoted it now. Emma was there and we'd remained in contact and even visited one another over the years. She hadn't ostracized me for marrying Joie. She'd seemed happy for me. I wished her life had been better, not that it was over by any means. I'd always thought that she would find the right guy to settle down with and use some of the money she was making to find a way to have some kids.

That never happened but she had taken my original business plan and run with it. The farm was doing very well. In the back of my mind, I had this vague idea. It was crazy and I knew it, but I thought it might be worth running it passed her. I'd wait and see if things were lining up the right way. It could be the beginning of something truly fun.

In the plane, I had several drinks. Having abstained for the last sixteen weeks or so was compounded by the amount of weight I lost. The flight attendant should have stopped me at three, but they'd kept refilling it and I'd kept drinking. Lifetime top elite status must have shown up on their passenger list. I was literally passed out when the plane landed in Burlington and awoke with a start when the plane touched down.

Somehow, I managed to get myself and my new bag outside into the bright daylight, where my eyes suddenly felt like someone had rubbed sand in them. I didn't have long to wait, but my head was pounding and when Emma pulled up in her new farm truck, the sound from her horn had nearly split my head open. I put my bag in the back, she hadn't replaced Samson. She hadn't replaced anything that she loved. Getting into the cab, I looked her up and down. I'd have sworn that she didn't look like she'd aged a day from all those summers ago.

"Jesus, Squirt, you smell like a distillery."

"I love you too, Emma. Could you speak a little more softly?"

"What have you done to yourself?"

"I've been discovering that I can't hold my alcohol anymore."

"Let's get you home. God you're so thin."

"I'm okay, I just need some of your home cooking."

She shook her head at me and pulled away from the pickup area. Outside the window, I could see the verdant countryside passing by and I realized that the last time she'd driven me home, the windows had been down. Now she was driving a nice new truck and the air was on. After so many days on the trail, it felt almost surreal. I must have dozed off at some point because I awoke when she opened my door and assisted me from the truck.

"I can't believe you came home drunk," she chastised me. "Pops would have beat you silly."

"That's not what you thought at the lake," I quipped. "Hey, there's all my junk," I said as I spotted my container parked by the shed.

"Come on, pick up your feet," she said gently.

She continued to assist me as my legs were rubber beneath me and didn't seem to be functioning correctly. Trying to make it work, she wrapped my arm about her so she could support me to the door. It was working until we reached the porch steps and I couldn't manage them. A sweat broke out on me and the sky seemed to spin as I'd lifted my leg for the first step. Then, in what seemed like a flash, I was laying on the porch with her atop me with her elbow pressing into my tummy.

"Brurp - uhg - you need to move, I'm going to lose this," I warned her as I felt my stomach beginning to wretch.

She got up, helped me to my side and held me as I lost the meal and drinks from the flight. The effluent didn't just go into the flowerbed, there was some on just about all of my new clothing. When I finished, was when the crying began. Emma didn't berate me or give me any grief. She was gentle, as she helped me up again and got me inside. She got me to the back bedroom addition and into its attached bathroom. Sitting in the tub, the crying continued and I may have blacked out.

The next thing I remembered I was under the hand held showerhead. I was completely nude and Emma was washing me with a soft washcloth and rinsing me off. I faded in and out several times. An angel seemed to keep saying, What's happened to my sweet baby? as her soft lips met mine.

I awoke in a tub of warm water. Emma had finished cleaning me and pushed the long straggly hair from my face. I looked up at her and saw her return my gaze deeply, her eyes filled with concern.

"I'm so sorry, honey," she whispered as she continued stroking my forehead. "I know losing her hurt," she said breaking down. "I've been so worried about you these last several months. I thought you'd gone on that hike to kill yourself," she cried lightly kissing my forehead as tears ran down her face and onto mine.

"No, no, I'm going to get through it. Don't cry for me, Em."

I'd only ever called Emma, Em, a few times and those few times had gotten me a rebuke. It'd been Bo's name for her all those years ago; she hadn't let anyone else get away with it. Tonight though, with me lying naked in her tub and her crying over me, it gained me a gentle hug and soft words.

She repeated the words over and over again, "It'll be okay, dear, sweet boy."

I'd thought I'd gotten all of my self-pity out on the trail, but evidently, there was still some remaining.

"Come on, let's get you dried off," she said attempting to help me up.

"I'm sorry I've put you through all of this."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Standing in the tub, I was fully nude as she assisted me to the bathmat. There she handed me a large terrycloth towel that smelled like home and felt like heaven. I could feel her eyes on me as I wrapped myself awkwardly and she assisted me to the bed. In my mind that summer six years ago seemed like it had just been a week ago. Emotions flooded forth like the gates had been thrown open. There was love in me. Love I thought had vanished long ago. Had my love for her not faded one iota? I'd believed I loved Joie with all of my heart and was certain that she'd been my soulmate. I felt confident it was true but wondered if maybe I'd transferred what I'd felt for my sister or if somehow this other love for Emma had been buried all this time.

"Do you think you can love two people with all of your heart?" I asked as she helped me sit on the bed.

"Parents love their children."

I shook my head which made the room spin and me lie down. She was beside me cradling my head in her hands and whispering sweet words to me. When I awoke, I'd latched onto Emma's teat in the night. I hadn't thought it would be like this with all the time apart, but here we were sleeping nude in her bed again. The natural order of things in my universe seemed to have forces that pulled me to her.

When I released her nipple, she looked down at me and said, "That was nice, why'd you stop?"

"I didn't know if we were doing that, now."

She stroked my forehead gently, "You can do anything you like with me. I realized a while ago, that there was only one person in the world for me. Sending you away was silly of me, but I was happy for you and the love you found."

I resumed suckling upon her. It was the most comforting thing I'd done in a long time. After a while, I released her and asked the question that kept running around in my head.

"When did you realize that?"

"Oh, I had doubts the day I dropped you at the bus station, but I thought I'd gotten past them until the day of your marriage -"

"I'm sorry, I did love her and -"

"Yes, I made you promise you would move on. I wasn't jealous of her, I was happy for you and sad for me. You can have more than one feeling at a time."

"What was your realization?"

"Well, her maiden name sounded familiar, so when I came home, I dug through some of Mama's old papers and made a trip to Montreal to check some records -"

"What?"

"Well, I found her mom, Geneviève, was Mama and Sarah's aunt. So as it turns out, you married your great aunt or maybe third cousin, I get them confused."

"I didn't know," I said. "So that convinced you it'd be okay to love your brother?"

"Well, I loved you against my own will. I'd broken my own rule and allowed myself to love you. Then I'd pushed you away so you would find a love and you did. But I just realized that the thing that mattered was the love. Then when Joie told me she was dying -"

"She told you?"

"Yes, and she told me about her brother. She also told me that one day you might return to me and that I should think long and hard before sending you away again. She loved you so much, Paul."

"I miss her terribly."

"She wished only joy in your life and she was so sad that she was going to cause you such pain. It was the most loving thing I have ever seen. When you called me that day to tell me about your hike, I worried you might die."

"You told me that yesterday."

"I wanted to make sure you heard it, because that was the day I decided that if you came back, I wouldn't send you away ever again."

"I love you, Emma. I've always loved you."

"I've loved you forever and my love has evolved."


Over the next several months Emma fed me enough to get me back to a healthy weight. We reopened our exploration of one another and we started planning what we wanted to do together. Several of the things she wanted to do were tied up in the farm but I don't think she understood the amount of wealth we now had. When I told her I had accumulated nearly fifty million dollars in our six years apart and I wanted her to stop working on this farm and go see the world together, her ideas became a little more exploratory.

One of Emma's lifetime desires was to go to the Netherlands to see the tulips and other flowers they grow by the thousands. She'd shone me pictures in one of her textbooks as a child. There'd been row upon row of them forming a multicolored rainbow. I remembered asking her where those were and she'd told me Holland, where they have those wooden shoes. Afterword, she'd read to me from 'Hans Brinker, or The Silver Skates', the story about the boy who put his finger in the dike.

The fact that she really wanted to go had come up again when we'd planted the first bulbs in the front flowerbed. That was when she'd told me that tulips represent perfect love. All of these ideas rolled around in my head together and I decided we'd just go. I called and got reservations and airline tickets for the weekend. Although spring planting was done, I wanted to convince her to let another farmer tend the field or perhaps just let them overgrow. When I asked her of course it'd been very carefully worded - um - well I'm not very tactful.

"So, when we go to the Netherlands, should we just burn the crops or let them rot in the field?"

"Um - what?"

"I'm thinking burn them."

"What are you on about?"

"We're going to the Netherlands tomorrow. So, I'm trying to figure out what to do about the crops."

"We're going?"

"I've got the tickets and reservations. We're going to Holland, you know like the shoes and tulips," I said playfully.

"I know where the Netherlands is. I haven't got anything packed or anything to wear."

"What you're wearing is fine. We can pack a few things and buy whatever we want or need. It's time to start living this life."

"You've lost your mind!"

"No, I found you, my other half, again," I said grinning ear to ear. "Come on it'll be fun; you've wanted to go forever. This is the time to see the tulips; they're going to be at their peak. Let's go and see and do."

There was some hesitation; I could tell she was worrying about crops, the house, and a dozen other things that didn't matter as long as we were together.

"Emma, as long as I'm with you I'll have everything I need. Let's pack what we absolutely can't live without in a very small travel bag and go."

"When is the flight?" she said finally smiling at the idea.

"We need to be there just before noon."


As the saying goes 'veni vidi vici' and we did. Emma and I came, saw and conquered, well figuratively. The tulips had been her favorite and the windmills were a close second followed by the engineering feats of the crazy water bridges that carried boats over road traffic or even other waterways. Of course, our trip to see the tulips turned into a month long romp across Europe. We could have gone longer, but at a certain point, we'd seen so much art and history, that we needed a break before going back at it.

When we got back home and settled into our bed there was a palpable tension about us. We were crazy in love and back in the house where it'd all started. She had that look in her eye and suddenly we were kissing and making out like that summer so long ago. The experiences life had brought us, simply made this love that much stronger.

"What do you think you're doing, Squirt?" she asked when I began feeling her breasts through her blouse.

"Sorry, mother may I feel your breasts?" I asked her as I restarted the game we'd played so long ago.

She nodded affirmatively and waited. She smiled and finally said, "Yes you may."

The game quickly devolved into us pulling each other's clothing off because she wanted to use one of the toys we'd gotten in the red light district. I didn't know that it excited her, but she wanted a toy in her butt while I made love to her. I loved the sense of exploration she was displaying and so I lubed up the narrow cylinder and let her put it inside her tight pucker. With it inserted, she climbed atop me and I ate her tulips eagerly while she sucked my cock in our soixante-neuf. The buzzing on my lips and tongue had me wanting to see what it would be like with my member in there, but I licked and tongued her until she was squealing from the pleasure.

"Yesss. Oh, gawd, I need - my baby - brother's - cock," she said as she climbed off and lied upon the bed.

I wanted my cock inside her and she'd read my mind. Her words always seemed to work on me as well as any physical contact. When I went to insert, I met some wonderful resistance accompanied by the vibrations that passed through her.

"Oh, that's nice," I said as I slid within her.

The vibrations tingled the length of me even when I was mostly withdrawn. Every stroke pushed us both closer and closer to oblivion. I could see the lust and love in her eyes as I pounded away at her. There was no one who loved me as completely as she did and her love poured forth through the beautiful crystal blue windows to my soulmates being.

Looking down at us coupling, I was taken instantly back to the time I'd told her I loved her after we'd finished. That time had followed with a small hurt, but this time there would be complete acceptance of my love and everything it carried.

"I'm cumming Emma. I love you so much. Oh fuck - I love you."

"Shoot it inside me; fill me with your seed. I love you too. Cum inside! Squirt - oh - yeah - baby - I feel it - squirting inside."

Rope after rope rushed out of me, and Emma locked her legs around me to pull me in tight. She froze in that position as we both twitched through our simultaneous orgasms.

When she finally relaxed and unlocked her legs, I rolled beside her and said, "I think I may start drawing again."

"I may have to start posing again."

"You just did, don't be too greedy."


After about a month home, we'd settled into being a real couple. We weren't doing much about the crops and we'd just finished making plans for our next adventure. Emma got up to use the restroom and I was sitting on the bed thinking about Greece. I was having mixed feelings about going there. It would bring back Joie in a way, but Emma wanted to go and I couldn't let her down.

We weren't going to the same villa at least and the isles would be beautiful. While I thought about the trip, I made a realization and stupidly said it aloud, well actually, I yelled it so she'd hear me.

"It seems like we made love at least twice as often since we've been home as we did on our trip!"

A crash of glass came from the bathroom and I rushed to the door. "Are you okay?" I asked standing in the doorway. Seeing the shattered glass on the floor, I bent immediately to start picking up the shards. I was so concerned that she not cut her feet that my focus was on the glass and them. When she didn't respond, I looked up to see her expression, "Em, are you cut?"

"Yeah - um - no - this wasn't - it's not supposed to be possible."

"It's just glass, are you alright? Do I need to call the doctor?" I asked thinking maybe she was having a stroke from the way she was speaking.

"No - yeah - maybe - eventually. Sorry sweetie, I'll be fine," she said turning from the sink to see my concern. "It's a good thing this time," she reassuringly mumbled to herself. "This time I'll have you," she said and then laughed a little.

"Here, step over to me. I think you need to sit down; I'll get the rest up later," I said as I held out my hand.

That was when I saw what she had and instead of taking my hand, she placed it into my hand. I looked at it and then at her and then at the box on the bathroom sink. The words didn't seem to register correctly, as I read them. Test It was a test, and this thing in my hand meant something. The weight of her stare as she placed it in my hand told me this was important. The white plastic stick and the plus sign. There was a deep meaning that was being blocked by shock.

"Wait - what - I thought -"

Then she stepped over the glass to take my hand and lead me back to the bed. We sat and then lay together nude while our hands caressed each other gently. I could see there were tears forming in her eyes but they seemed to be tears of happiness. Surprised and overjoyed, Emma began nodding her head affirmatively and then hugged me tightly around my neck with her left arm.

Her right hand trembled as she caressed my face, "I guess they were wrong and I'm so happy."

"Me too, it's the best thing that's ever happened," I said softly.

"I can't believe it's happening, again."


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147 Comments
AnonymousAnonymous4 months ago

Full circle, huh?

Wonderfully done, thank you!

Celastrus_orbiculatusCelastrus_orbiculatus4 months ago

i started reading a stroke story and i was fucking crying my eyes out at a few points. GREAT WRITING. sexy too.

AnonymousAnonymous6 months ago

Beautiful story.

nekkid_handymannekkid_handymanabout 1 year ago

Incredible! This story was so well written that I felt drawn into the lives of the characters and felt the emotions right along with them. I even cried when Joie passed. I am so happy you created this little gem of literature and cannot wait to read the rest of your creations. Thank you

AnonymousAnonymousabout 1 year ago

Amazing story that brought me to tears. Love can be complicated and you captured so much emotion in this story. Bravo

BadbeagleBadbeagleover 1 year ago

An excellent story and I have to say I love the fact that it partially takes place in my home state of Vermont. Excellent work.

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 2 years ago

Wow, wow, wow! I should have gone for that long walk and smoke after all. I commented before realising just how much more there is to this story. My mind has been processing it while I slept. Sorry if another long comment is a bore, but there’s so much to say.

Incest held much of the story together. It wasn’t the most important aspect for me, the love, learning and honesty topped that, but I was attracted by the sibling incest dimension, while I am not attracted by the idea of mother-son incest, or at least I wasn’t! But I now realise that Emma and Paul weren’t brother and sister, as Paul (and I) still believed at the end of the story, but mother and son. Pops and Mama weren’t Paul’s parents but his half grandparents (as those names half imply). His father was Pop’s brother, Emma’s Uncle Jimmy. It’s actually legal in Australia for an uncle to marry his niece (though not in the US), which presumably means it would also be legal for him to father her child out of wedlock as well? I can’t completely get my head round the mathematics, but it’s legal for first cousins to marry in the UK (though not in many countries), and the risk of a genetic problem rises from 2% average in the general population to 4%, so perhaps to 6% in the case of an uncle-niece child?

Now I think about it, I can see that the clues were liberally scattered in plain sight throughout the story. Paul expected his mother to meet him off the bus, but Emma actually came. She sent him regular parcels when he was at university and on the gruelling trail, she potty trained him, she did his washing without complaint etc, etc, just like a mother would have done. She also knew she had to let go, hard though that was for her, she wanted his happiness above her own, just as he wanted hers above his own. Pretty wonderful, really; I suspect I’d find a lot more clues and associations if I read it again, which I might damn well do sometime.

I can see a strong case for consensual incest between people of similar ages, especially when care is taken to avoid any children. But while the sex between Paul and Emma was entirely consensual it was also based on a lie and that is wrong. That, of course would have spoiled the story and the attraction between Paul and Emma clearly wasn’t just because Paul thought she was his sister.

But in my list of the educational aspects that meant so much to me, I also missed perhaps the most important one of all, Emma, his actual mother rather than his sister, taught him how to satisfy a woman sexually, something which helped to heal her after a failed relationship, and I can now add, her teenage pregnancy. I’m not sure how far I feel mothers should go in this respect and I don’t blame my mother for not teaching me anything about sex at all, she didn’t know herself and it became clear from frank conversations with her in her eighties, that she’d never had an orgasm and as such had no ability to imagine what one might have been like and why they are beneficial. Fifty years on antidepressants might have been avoided if that had been different – antidepressants which I feel somehow contributed to the development of bipolar disorder, which made caring for her very difficult some days and which also became a major impediment to my own timely development.

The problem for me and the girlfriends I never fully satisfied, was that I I also didn’t learn anything from anywhere else until it was essentially too late for me. I didn’t just get no relationship education at school, the most important part (sadly still like most kids even today), I didn’t even get any sex education – I learned it was introduced in my school the year after I left. And while I tried to find sources, in the pre-internet age in a rural community, I found little that was of much help.

This makes me wonder if the reference to the boy in the Dutch story who saved the country from disaster by putting his finger in the hole in the dyke all night was used by MindsMirror as an allegory for the patience and determination a man or a teenager, needs to help his partner reach an orgasm? I suspect it takes longer the first few times, especially if she hasn’t been encouraged and taught how to do that herself through masturbation? The finger in the small hole has obvious sexual connotations and the consequences of failure of failing to stick it out until you are successful are equally catastrophic for couples and nations. There’s also the fact he had to stay there all night, which is relevant too. I doubt if those implications are in the original story, but I’ve never actually read it so will just have to double check that now.

But what about the Don Quixote dimension? Rapprochement is beautifully apt and of course it is quixotic in the sense that the complete harmony and completness in the story is unlikely and impractical. But that applies just as much to Pride and Prejudice and Great Expectations, and to just about every other great story there is. Their value is not in how realistic they are but what we can learn from them. I’m still unsure about the Don Quixote dimensions though. They are clearly there, ‘tilting at windmills, for example. Paul’s surname is also Rosinante. Joy (Joie) calls him Monsieur Rosinante. Although I haven’t yet read Don Quixote, I know that Rosinante was his horse. I thought about Paul riding Emma, though it seems more appropriate to when she is riding him. her riding him. A quick glimpse at the Wikipedia entry for Rosinante makes me begin the understand why I need to read the novel. In the story Rosinante isn’t just Don Quixote’s horse, he is also to an extent his double; that could fit. The same entry also tells me that Rocin in Spanish means both a workhorse and an uneducated man. Paul is sexually/relationship uneducated at the start of the story, despite being academically educated.

Perhaps there’s also a clue in the workhorse. Even once I understood a little about the mechanics of female orgasms (too late, I now know just how many different types there are and how many different techniques are needed) I did not realise just how much effort I needed to put in before I selfishly satisfied myself. Someone somewhere used the analogy they sex is like a train journey where both partners are heading to a wonderful destination, but it all goes wrong when then man gets off one station too early.

I recall that Paul also had a middle name. I can’t recall what it was but I’m now pretty sure that when I check, I will find that it has a double meaning and implications in some way. Wikipedia also mentions that Rosinante has been used by a number of authors, including Steinbeck, as the name of the van in which someone in one of his novels undertakes an epic trip. That could be another deliberate allusion to Paul’s long hike. What’s certain is that MindsMirror has convinced me why I need to read Don Quixote, a novel I’ve long known is considered a masterpiece, but which I never felt inspired to read.

I was wrong to call this a short story in my previous comment. At nearly 60,000 words it’s half the length of a typical modern novel aimed at adults, but the average length of novels aimed at teenagers. That may just be coincidence, but they are they are the most important group that should be reading and analysing the story as they might a DH Lawrence novel or a Shakespeare play.

I wanted a miracle to happen and for Emma to get pregnant at the end, not least so there was someone to inherit the farm. With all those powerful orgasms her cervix would have been hyperactive, bobbing up and down at great speed, and it felt like a possibility. So, the fact that it happened left me feeling more contented than after any other porn story, and there are some other really good ones. But there’s a quixotic dimension here as well, surely, in relation to the probability of that and also the issue of possible genetic problems.

I also can’t help wonder whether MindsMirror has a farming background? I am an uneducated farmer. The agricultural detail in the story on a crop farm is rather vague, but it’s not inaccurate, as in some stories that include farms. The repeated use of the word ‘teat’ is unusual in porn stories. It’s a synonym for nipple of course, and that may be the only reason it gets used so often, but its use is common amongst cattle and sheep farmers.

Through a search, I now see that MindsMirror are a couple. That seems so perfect. They must surely be academics, perhaps retired to have the time, yet still very sexually active? But what type of couple I wonder? There is no lesbian sex. I can’t recall if there is any mention of anal sex at all in the story but one of the reasons I loved it, is that it predominantly (or entirely) featured vaginal and normal heterosexual sex, so I feel they are probably a heterosexual couple. Anal sex has an occasional place in heterosexual relationships when it appeals to both partners, but stories that focus on it do so, I feel, because of deficiencies elsewhere in the relationships they describe, and I speak from the experience of my own deficiencies.

And I’d really love to believe that the reason MindsMirrow were able to describe the different sexual positions, emotions, elation and techniques so precisely and vividly is because they tried each one first, for both their benefit and for ours. Might they also be genetically related? No doubt we’ll never know, and it doesn’t matter, but good luck to them either way. Just the possibility adds an additional level of piquancy. They are clearly workhorses. Just writing this one story and getting to it to such a level of perfection must have taken months of hard graft. They deserve their success. I wish I could meet them in person and say that face to face; I wish we could all reward them financially.

If there is even a fraction as much depth in any of their other 24 stories I am going to have a lot to keep me happy.

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 2 years ago

Although I don’t smoke, I feel as if I need to steal some of Pop’s tobacco and go for a long walk in the cornfields before commenting. But, life being what it is, if I don’t comment now, I probably never will. Short of writing a long essay though I won’t even begin to do this story justice.

This wasn’t just the best story I have read on Literotica, it was the best story I have every read, and that includes a lot of classic novels. It’s very unfortunate that it has to be confined to a site where most people won’t come across it, it would do a huge amount of good if it was out there and openly recognised as valuable. The incest was all consensual between adults and that warrants a lot more public discussion and tolerance, instead of the media stories that only focus on those where there is abuse as well. But, while that was a key component of the plot the sex between Paul and Joy was just as erotic as that between Paul and Emma.

The brilliance of the plot and slow build ups to the sex and the really erotic descriptions of it were masterly, but what made this such a great story was the education: the obvious education of the author, the way that has re-inspired me to get better educated, and I suspect will have inspired others in that way too, the recommended reading, both the openly named books (if I can find them) and the alluded to books, especially Don Quxiote. I never did get round to reading it, but will try again, old knight that I now am, living more in mine and other’s imaginations than my own reality. There was also the mini-masterclass in French sex talk. Forty years ago, long before the internet when, I couldn’t have found some of those French words a dictionary, I missed the chance to sleep with a married French woman during a holiday romance because she spoke not English and I didn’t understand what she’d suggested, until she burst into tears the following day wondering why I hadn’t taken her up, but by then it was too late and she was taking me back to the airport. Typical Englishman. Can’t see a Frenchman missing something like that!

But the most important education of all was the one about love and putting one’s partner first. If I’d been able to read a story like this in my teens or twenties, I’d have both given to and got from, a vast amount more from my relationships. If all young people could read it there would be fewer broken marriages in future.

In terms of literature, of course, it would just rank as a short story, yet it included as much action, tension, anticipation and uncertainty as many long novels. As with all great writing, though, I can now see, thanks for the perceptive insight of a others who have commented, that there was more to the story than I’d spotted myself. I’m clearly a bit dumb. I didn’t spot the possible significance of the uncle Jimmy reference, Pop’s attitude, or the mother role play. How thick can you get!

All I can do is thank the author, who should be getting royalties from every one of us. What a pity society is so narrow-minded that s/he (I assume it was written by a man, but who knows – there is ever one moderately serious alternative candidate in the Shakespeare authorship controversy) can’t be openly interviewed on national media about their writing, can’t win book prizes, can’t run creative writing classes for others, well at least not in this genre.

I can see just how much time and effort has gone into this. That’s really valuable public service. I will, of course, now be reading other stories by the author

Marklynda2Marklynda2almost 2 years ago

Absolutely wonderful story!!

Love lost, forbidden love, soulmate found and lost, original soulmate rediscovered and a baby. Doesn't get much better than this. Totally enthralling and well told story. Thank you for sharing your vision and talents.

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 2 years ago

this was an absolutely fantastic story. while i've never done anything with family, there were a lot of other aspects of the story that intensely touched me because of similarities in my own life, which though surreal added to my overall enjoyment. my only possible critique is some grammar & punctuation errors here & there, but far less than seen on average pretty much everywhere these days. i commend you on a job well done with a completely engaging, believable, & relatable story.

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