Ellen was a good teacher and I was a good pupil.” I sat my empty wine glass on the table. Wendy watched me, expectantly as if to say, ‘then what?�...� “The next thing I knew we were on the couch, me on top. Ellen pulled a blanket over us because it was getting chilly in the room. Ellen found my hand and guided it to her breast. I was petrified, my hand couldn’t move but Ellen did. She was unbuttoning her shirt. She eased my hand inside her bra and I felt bare skin. Ellen was moaning, approvingly. I. And I owed her an apology for being late. I could smell food from the kitchen; we had an agreement that we wouldn't fall into the stereotypical male-female chore division, and tonight was my night to cook (So why was I supposed to be cooking at her house, and why did we spend 90% of our time together there? After all, she'd end up cleaning up any long-term messes, and by default keeping the place up. I can hear you sneering. Well, there *was* a reason. Basically, I'm a slob, and she hated it so. More

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