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The Story of V and W
I had gotten a six week stint as a research assistant to a wheelchair-bound historian. He lived with his wife in a snowy little mountain village in northwestern New Hampshire. Each day, I would drive down to Berlin or Littleton, or even as far away as Montpelier, Vermont, to photograph documents that could not be checked out, and artifacts that could not be adequately captured otherwise. I was learning a lot about the discipline of research, and the disciplines needed in my scattered life.
Each morning, I would set out from the village and drive along winding roads cut into the sides of mountains. In the mornings, it was pleasant to sit in the warm VW Kombi van with a hot cup of coffee and see the passing hillsides over 3,000 feet altitude, with their snowy-covered pines. Against a backdrop of gray atmosphere, it was spectacular to see gray clouds drifting in and silently breaking up against those mountainsides the way galaxies in space collide.
Every afternoon, I would drive back toward the village with an armload of books and movies to see me through the night. The professor had a chalet overlooking a small valley, and I had a small suite off the garage. It was comfortable and warm but quiet and lonely. On my way home, it would get dark early, and I would stop for dinner at this restaurant snuggled in the toehills of the White Mountains.
The restaurant, a gas station, and a few stores formed an impromptu village of their own about five miles from where I was staying. I only had another fifteen minutes to go, but it was tortuous uphill driving. Some evenings the roads were already slick with ice. It would snow in the early morning hours, so that my drive out was beautiful—the leaden sky dappled with Bambi spots of snow flakes—but during the day the sun might come out for a few hours. Temps would rise, the stuff melted, and as the sub-Arctic winter night set in, it froze. Nevertheless, I would always stop for dinner, and I carried with me a menu so I'd know hours ahead what the special of the day was.
The waitress was V, a ski enthusiast and part-time sports instructor at a nearby high school. She was 28, and gorgeous, and best of all, she liked me. She had a shapely, solid body that looked cute in her yellow waitress dress. She had wonderful dark-blue eyes framed in dark brown hair. Her wide, pale face was faintly freckled and had that exotic touch of Indian and French-Canadian so common in the region. V seemed to await my coming. She knew approximately when I would arrive, and sometimes I could see her setting up table services (napkins, fresh cutlery, cups, saucers, clean glasses with paper covers, etc.) while looking out one of the big picture windows as my van arrived. Often it was still snowing, and there would be white atop the van. I always loved walking in to the warm chalet-like atmosphere, clapping my cold hands together, blowing steamy breath over them, and stamping ice off my boots.
V would appear with a menu in hand and sweep me along to a table she tried to put me in—a small two seater, isolated near the kitchen entrance, where she could grab a few words with me while rushing out with armloads of plates or rushing in to get more of the same. Bus boys passed, other waitresses pressed past, and V managed to get a good 20 minutes of chat time with me each evening.
Pretty soon, we timed it so I arrived a bit later, and she'd put on a thick gray sweater to cover her uniform top (kind of like a taxi turning its in-service lights out). She'd bring a cup of coffee and a salad and join me. Until then, I'd always bought the evening paper, and she originally started asking about stories. Now she'd slide in with her dinner, and we'd talk. Pretty soon, she was sitting with her thigh pressed against mine, and we were on our way to being good friends. I had a good idea that we were working up to something nice. But there were some odd complications.
For one thing, the first evening I came in, before V and I became chummy, where were three butch looking women who came to visit, and I happened to notice that there was a lot of extremely fond hugging and glowing conversation, including V and W in sort of a brief, milling exchange that soon evaporated in the bustle of the busy restaurant. I wondered—were they lovers, or were they robust ski women who weren't lovers?
Or both?
For another thing, there was a roommate, W. V had W join us one evening during her break—the testing thing, I assumed (correctly). W was to give V a second opinion to make sure I wasn't really some body snatcher. W was a smaller, thinner woman, also lithe, a skier like V. W was gamine, boyish, with tousled caramel hair and gray eyes in an interesting, rectangular face with a wide, sensuous mouth, thin high nose, and still-soft, but squarish jaws. Her other job was as an aerobics instructor at a private gym. We made pleasant conversation (part of which drew me out on social issues and I admitted I had been a student activist and favored progressive causes) and I forgot about her. Soon enough came the first date with V. She was off on a Saturday, and so was I. We met around ten and had breakfast (anywhere but her restaurant, so we went into Berlin). From there, we walked a bit, sat through a good suspense movie, wandered through the mall, and then the bookstore, before I took her home. She was a warm companion, and clung attentively to me.
We stole our first furtive kiss in the movie.
By the time we were in the mall, we were French-kissing with ardor. At the bookstore, we tittered over erotic manuals and I could hear her breath grow shorter and hotter as she became aroused (which she tried to hide from me). She spoke briefly on the phone (to ask W to carve out some space for us), and had me up to their apartment. They lived in a modern, blond-wood upstairs flat, with stores below. Their front windows looked out over the main road, while the rear looked out into a nebulous, snowy expanse of forest.
W was there—wearing jeans, soft boots, and a turtleneck sweater. They exchanged hugs and kisses. At that moment I remembered the glowing and hugging on the first day, and thought maybe their fondness was a little extra. There were photos of them on the bureau and on desks and window sills, and they seemed to share a lot. What I did not realize, on that first date, was that they shared one bedroom. That's a pretty sure tipoff, when there is only one large bed. V herded me into the small living room, and the three of us watched TV for a while.
W brought out popcorn and ice cream, and V opened a bottle of sparkling apple cider. We had a cozy time together. After an hour or so, W announced that she had someplace to go, and left. She hugged V with a kiss on the cheek, and did the same to me. "Nice meeting you," she said with those bright gray eyes and that plain, healthy skier's face. They both seemed to have matching slight cases of ski burn (a mix of air and sun peeling and redness) on their cheeks, foreheads, and chins.
"We have about two hours alone," V announced as she took my hand and towed me into the bedroom, which overlooked empty forests. She turned off the lights and opened the curtains, so that we were illumined by a silvery light from both a half moon and the reflecteed light on the snow fields. Both fully dressed, we plopped on the bed and started petting.
We pulled each other to one another, and I saw the eagerness in her eyes as she gave me her lips to kiss. I had already been inside that hungry mouth with my tongue, and our tongues were like old friends picking up where they had left off. My hand strayed along the curves of her strong body, down a smooth back and waist, up over the hill of her hip, and down the broad, firm slope of her thigh. As I palmed her thigh, she took it as a signal and pressed closer, so that her corduroy-clad leg rode over my knee.
I pulled her thigh closer yet, so that the warm cleft between her legs rode on my thigh. The muscular hardness of my thigh excited her, because her breathing got excited. Her hand crept up my sweater and rested on a nipple. The nipple was startled and grew hard, which made her hand palm it, finger it, wiggle it, and I thrust my tongue hard into her mouth while pulling my thigh up against her vulva. Soon, my hand was in her shirt and up on her breast. She had smallish but full breasts. I maneuvered her silky bra off and found large nipples that wanted to fill my hand.
Clothing was now extraneous. She motioned for a time out for both of us to undress. When we were naked, I lay on the bed and looked up at her. She stood in the silvery light and let me admire her. I could read the pleasure in her heavy-lidded eyes and slightly parted, almost smiling lips as she looked down at me in utter sensuous enjoyment. Her body was full and strong, with good curves. Her thighs were strong, her belly a little full like a ripe fruit, but taut. She had a huge innie belly button. Her breasts, as I said, were small but full and lay somewhat flat, with huge nipples pointing upward, brown, from a wide oval full of aroused aureoles. Her bush was oval, like her Venus mound, and as she crawled up on the bed and turned her buttocks toward me, I saw that she had a brownie outtie cuntie. She had a tight little pucker between goodly buttocks, and a tangle of brown folds, labia, with a clitoral bundle that would summon my attention soon.
"You look good," she said in a breathy, emphatic low voice.
"So do you," I said as I ran my hands over her buttocks and my fingers through the folds between buttock and thigh, and between both of those and her vulva.
"Like what you see?" she said, and squirmed her shoulders pleasurably knowing what the answer would be. "You look ravishing," I said. "I like when you say that," she said with a smile. I put my fingertip to her lips. "Wet it." She chowed her mouth around my finger as if it were my dick. She turned her head this way and that, and I felt her tongue slide around my finger. "Nice and wet," I said. She soaked it in thick spit, moving her head up and down as if fucking the finger. I took the wet finger and ran it down the line between her labia. Her lips parted. She barked out and grasped the sheets with her fists. I ran my fingers through the parted space, which was parted partly because of the finger wet with her spit, and also because her labia were engorged and heavy. I maneuvered her gently, so that I lay on my back and pulled her big thighs toward me until I could smell the snailness of her cunt. "Like it?" she said.
"I like it. I am looking at it and loving it."
She moaned and lowered her face onto the sheets while wiggling her rear. She grasped the sheets tighter in her fists. "It's all yours," she said, "all yours. Everything you see."
What I saw was wonderful. She lifted her leg over my torso and moved closer yet, so that she was squatting with her genitals an inch from my face. I could count the hairs, and the myriad skin pores on folds outside her labia, as well as the glistening pinkness inside. It smelled damp like the forest, but also faintly briney and fishy like a pond at the edge of the tidal swamps where I grew up, which had mixed sea and fresh water. Her skin smelled clean, almost hinting at lavender, as if she had just soaked in her bath, though we'd been on the go all day.
Positioned thus, she took my cock in both hands and closed her mouth around it. I groaned as I felt her take possession of me with her strong mouth and sure hands. Every woman has her own, unique way of pleasuring herself when she is alone, and just as unique ways of pleasuring her lover. As she sucked and blew me, she held it with both hands but kept one long middle finger in the crack between my buttocks—not a penetration, but a pleasant suggestion she might push it in, but for now let it rest amid the sparking nerve endings around my anus.
I could not stretch the desire any further, but parted her vaginal lips with my fingers of both hands, and got my tongue into her hole. I tongue-fucked her strongly, but alternated with licking her pee-hole, and licking circles around her aroused clit. My hands roved under her, seeking the generally flat but (in the middle) bulging plane of her stomach. I grasped the wide bones of her hips from behind, from underneath, wondering at their breadth and strength and beauty.
As she sucked me closer to climax, I grasped her buttocks and hips and pulled myself up so I could lick her anus. She moaned with pleasure but made protesting sounds that she liked that but needed me far more in her cunt. So I returned to penetration of her hole with my tongue. I felt tremors and fits start to race through her like an electric current. Her sucking noises were loud and randy and echoed in the room. She cupped one hand under my ass while circling my dick with her index and middle fingers of the other hand, and keeping her third finger in the crack as before. Twisting her hand around, she diddled my sphincter with her third finger. I held her ass and drank from that pink, dripping cup until I felt the fits of orgasm start to shake her. That brought me on, and I could feel her teeth (gently) as my cock rammed up and down throwing wads of come into her mouth and on her face. Her clitoris was like a little girl-weenie in my mouth as I puckered and sucked on it, with loud smacking sounds, the way she had sucked on my penis, and I brought her to orgasm. She hollered brokenly in her passion, and held her ass with one hand, my dick with the other, as she rocked her torso up and down. Her ass moved this way and that, but I clung to it like a sea creature and delivered tongue thrusts into her contracting, quivering cunt box until she squealed and rolled away, unable to stand any more.
As we lay resting, she looked at me strangely. "Peter, I want to tell you something." It was a moment of truth. "I hope you like this." She looked into my eyes and her face said she wasn't sure how I was going to react. " the best way to tell you is directly. I'm bisexual." She studied me. "W and I are lovers."
I shrugged. "Okay. Now a few things I noticed make more sense."
She laughed. "You're not—upset?"
I shook my head. "I just made love to a beautiful, loving woman. I'm just totally all over you."
"I'm all over you too, Peter." She kissed me. "There is a silly thing. Let's see what you think. You know how girls will be girls."
"Mmmm?" What did that mean?
"We are both bisexual. We happen to have been lovers for the past year, since we met and really fell for each other. Look, there is no such thing as a simple bi pattern. We're not lesbians, and we're not straight. Those are each complicated enough, but sort of easier to define, at the ends of a spectrum." I had learned some of this already, and wasn't surprised.
V continued: "Every bi woman has her own twists and turns. I usually stay monogamous with either a man or a woman. Once in a while both, never both together. If I do both, they won't know the other exists. That's just how it has to be. That's how I keep my world sane and stop it from falling apart, or falling together. It's about the same with W, except she's more apt to be with a woman, and occasionally with a man. So we were having this talk about the time you happened on the scene." She stopped and looked down, as if this were hard to say.
"Go on," I said, stroking her hair gently.
"We talked about you and we were wondering if it might not be fun to have sex with you." She added quickly: "If you don't mind."
I kept stroking her hair. "If that is what you would like, I would certainly try to please you both." She grasped my chin and pushed me back, down, to kiss me roughly on the mouth. "You are such a diplomat, Peter. You said that so carefully and with such diplomacy!"
"The only thing is—"
"What?"
"I don't want to do anything that would cause me to lose you."
She put her finger on my nose, a subtle hint that she was still the older woman and I the naïve younger man. "Honey, if I didn't want to do this, I wouldn't have said it. Besides, I was terrified that I might lose you." She looked down suddenly as if ashamed to have admitted that. It meant she liked me a lot.
I laughed. "Come here." I pulled her on top of me, and slipped my hard cock into her. "On the topic of just you and me for the moment, I am still horny for that good little pussy of yours." She wiggled it to show me that her good little pussy was horny for me too. I said: "I would be the happiest guy in the world just making love to you, because you are gorgeous. I think your roommate is a very sweet person, very cute, and if you want to invite her along, that might just turn out to be a real turn-on. I've never slept with two women."
"Neither of us has ever slept together with a man."
"Want to try it?"
"I'll talk to W and see if she wants to."
"Do you want to, or is this something you're being talked into?" It was a silly question. I knew the answer. She knew I knew. We were just making horny talk, which helped us start getting hot for each other again, embracing, tossing on the bed together with my cock inside her warm hole, and her solid hips wrapped around my smaller, harder thighs and ass.
We heard the sound of W quietly letting herself in, and it was time to shower, and for me to leave. W was in the bathroom when V kissed me at the door and told me: "I loved having you this evening." She rubbed my buttock and thigh as we kissed goodnight. "I'll be looking forward to seeing you at dinner tomorrow as usual."
"Me too," I said. "What a treasure you are, especially up here in Santa's frozen North Pole."
W agreed. So V said the next evening at dinner. "Want to come over this evening?"
"I'd love to. I'll need to drop off some books and tapes for the Professor, so his wife can help him with transcriptions. As soon as I drop the box of stuff off, I'm done for the day. That's our arrangement."
"Good—then drive over to our place and come on up." Less than two hours later, I knocked on their door on the second floor. V opened the door with a coy, expectant look. She wore a long pink night gown that was opaque but revealed her rich figure. "Come on in, Peter. We have been waiting for you."
W came over and kissed me on the cheek. She wore a similar nightie, but light blue, that came down to her ankles. She accepted a chaste, sisterly start. She was, too, a gamine, a tomboy. She said: "I didn't know if I would feel shy or embarrassed or whatever, so I thought I would break the ice by giving you a hug."
I took her in my arms and chastely kissed her forehead. I could feel that she was tense as a steel coil, but she quickly relaxed. V put on some soft music and turned off the lights. We were bathed in that same silvery moonlight plus the red and green glow of flashing lights in the entertainment system. V said "Why don't you kids dance for a bit."
W and I slow danced. "This is nice," I said.
W nodded. She rested her head on my shoulder. "V said you are a sweet boy."
"Thanks," I said in the direction of V's faint shadow sitting on the couch.
"It's the truth," V said.
W and I slow danced for a while. We started to kiss. She was slower to arouse, but steady as she let me make my small advances a step at a time. She was cool, and not breathing any differently, but her eyes were big and lustrous, and their lids were languid as if her eyes were the moon and her lids slow clouds drifting before the moon. She was bewitching in her own way. Her body felt long and thin in my arms, her waist boyish, but her hips were side and delicate, and her buttocks soft and girlish. Womanish. Both women were about five years older than I, a lot for any of us at that age, and yet they were of the type that age well and seem younger. Maybe that's because women like that stay fit and keep a positive attitude and don't get too wrapped around the axle over small stuff. I took turns dancing with each of them. V was horny already, breathing in my ear, and I kept my knee between her thighs so that she rode on me as we swayed in the air. W sat on the couch with her knees up and her arms wrapped around them. She looked comfortable and relaxed and interested. Soft rock music throbbed quietly in the air, and I danced with thin W and handful V.
W and I talked a little. I said: "This is nice, like high school."
"I liked to dance, but boys confused me."
"Did you like boys?" "Sometimes. But I liked girls too. Took me a while to figure out. In college, I got it all ironed out by second semester. Plenty of help from the right older girls."
"Me too," V said from the couch. She was so close, really, that she could almost have reached out to touch our legs.
"Why don't you and V dance while I watch?" I said. The women silently made the switch, so I sat on the couch and I watched them. It occurred to me I should watch what they did so I would know what they liked, at least for a start.
The two women danced slowly, and V held W as I had held W. V said over W's reclining head and tousled hair, "she is a slow bun in the oven, but wait when she gets hot."
W said: "I don't mind taking my time, especially when something good is coming."
"That's the spirit," I said.
They were about the same height, V being maybe an inch taller, but V was fuller and presented an illusion of being taller. She lifted W's chin and kissed her. They kissed long and slow, turning their heads slowly so their tongues could frisk around one another, hidden from me by their lips. In a few quick little motions, they shed their nightgowns, so that they were nude as chalk in the moonlight.
I watched to see if either was the more aggressive, or if they played any he/she nuances, or whatever—I saw nothing like that. They simply were two women making love, and alternately one or the other would be more vigorous. I watched as V palmed W's smaller, still round and soft, buttocks, while W seemed more interested in touching, cupping, kissing V's saggy little breasts with their large nipples. Alternately, V touched W's tiny breasts with their pinkie nipples. Where V was a brownie, W was utterly a pinkie, from her delicate oval nipples to her hard little outtie belly button to what was hidden in her big ash-gray bush.
At one point, V sounded a little embarrassed or, to put it more mildly, unsure. "Are we doing okay, Peter?"
"You're doing perfect. Let's take our time, enjoy each other, do what's fun and not do what's not fun. I'm looking forward to making love with both of you."
"And you will," W said reassuringly. "I've never done this before, but I think it will be just fine."
"I think so too," V said. She stopped dancing and turned W toward me. "Isn't she precious?" W stood like a doll and let herself be gazed at.
I said: "She is very pretty and precious, yes." I could tell that V loved her, truly. W closed her eyes with deep pleasure and laid one hand loosely on one of V's breasts. V nuzzled the back of W's neck, moaned, and rubbed W's genitals for me. W had a big bush for a small woman, and now V gave me a foretaste by fingering W's bush so that I glimpsed pink. W had a surprisingly large cunt with large pink labia in intriguing folds between her legs. I sat on the floor cross-legged so I could look up, and see W's pussy framed by her narrower thighs and the round ends of both buttocks visible through the wide spread between her hips. She was one of those women who have a wide ass but legs set far enough apart so you can see daylight between them.
W moaned a little as V fingered her.
"She likes being looked at," V said.
"I like looking at her," I said. I feasted on the sight of her long, thin torso and those faint mounds, her breasts, and their subtle pink nipples.
V kept fingering her, showing her to me, saying: "Isn't she precious?"
W reached with both hands down to her bush and rubbed so that V's hand was between her hands, and V's finger between her fingers as they massaged W's labia.
I rose and stepped closer. I put my left hand lightly on W's waist, my right hand on the fullness of V's buttock and thigh.
V said: "Kiss her nipples."
I bent down and licked the soft little mounds on W's chest and was surprised at how her nipples wrinkled up into little pink prunes like plants sucking up the wetness of the gardener's hose on a hot day. I ran my fingertip up and down the shallow groove of her front, each time over her hard little outtie belly button. "Do you like having your boobies kissed?" I asked.
"Oh yes," W said. "Kiss them like that. My nipples get nipply when you do."
V said: "Let's go into the bedroom."
I stood and watched them as they went, the fuller one and the leaner one, both lovely to watch. I followed them. When I got to the bedroom, W was in the bathroom and V stood shivering with both hands pressed over her groin. "We both have to pee, now that we're getting excited." We took turns going in to pee, but nobody watched anyone.
In bed, I watched them tangle and kiss. First, W was on the bottom and V straddled her and kissed her on the mouth while W's fingers worked in V's snatch and the air was filled with wet sounds from the snatch. I liked watching V's breasts hang, dangling a bit, heavier and fuller at the bottom than in the middle, and with brown nipples sticking out. I liked watchingV's boobies rocking back and forth like the clappers of bells. W liked V's nipples too, because she sucked on them each for several minutes in turn. V held each breast for W to suck, while W's fingers kept working in V's cunt. In minutes, they were both twitching and writhing as their first orgasm rolled through them simultaneously. They lay beside me, the two women, intertwined and resting, while I lightly massaged their firm backs and buttocks. My cock was hard as a rod.
W crawled over to me and sucked my cock. V lay nearby watching and idly fingering herself. I lay on my back and pulled her backside over so that she straddled my shoulders as V had the first night. I inhaled the scent of W's lavish pink pussy. She had a big pussy for a small woman. She had a bigger pussy than V. Sometimes smaller women surprise you because they have big loose cunts.
W had a big cunt, and I pulled it over my mouth. I sucked on each labia, then on her pee hole, and I tongued her clitoris. V's clit was bigger. However, W had a bigger, longer shaft disappearing up under her clitoral hood and into her Venus mound. Touching her shaft made W writhe with sensitivity and pleasure. She was one of those women who quickly orgasm when you gum the shaft of their clit. So I tongued it and gummed it, this long hard line under her skin, and she sucked on my cock exactly as V had done on the first night.
They had probably exchanged notes about me. I started to feel that warmth down below that signals orgasm is on the way. V meanwhile, nearby, was rubbing herself faster and moaning as she saw what we were doing. After all, I had watched my two girls dancing, and I had watched my two girls as V showed me W's cunt, and I had not touched myself for fear of coming early and by myself. Here I was with this lovely gray-eyed girl (okay, older woman, but she was like a girl) who had my dick deep in her mouth, and I stuck my tongue in her loose pink cunt that was foamy with cunt soup, and I started coming. W had plenty of experience with men, and she did cunnilinguis with women, so she expertly wrapped her wiry arms around my ass and kept that dick in her mouth as I thrust up and down. At the same time, overwhelmed with passion at the wealth of that large, loose pink pussy on my face, I held her hips in a vise grip while I tongue-fucked her quivering cavern.
"Fuck her," V said to me.
I was still limp and awash in come. "I'll work my way up to it. Why don't you fuck her in the meantime, until I'm ready?" I turned to W and gripped her arms. "Do you want to be fucked by V?"
"I want her to eat my pussy while you watch." So I lay on my side within smelling distance while V lay on her back and W sat on V's face with her ass on V's forehead. The three of us were wrapped in a scent like fishy sea water as V held W's pale buttocks apart and sucked on her pussy. I wished men could have more orgasms as I helplessly watched from the sidelines as these two went on. They had what I called rolling orgasms, maybe one each ten or fifteen minutes. I remained exhausted from my first orgasm, and half-hard as I hovered around them. With luck I could get one more orgasm in, with time maybe two.
A dildo came into play. W was the man wearing the dildo, while she fucked V in the cunt from behind, and I watched V's breasts swinging back and forth as the two gradually climaxed.
I was ready by then, and chose to take W in the missionary position. W held my head to her chest as I fucked her hard, rocking back and forth on top of her. I sucked W's little tits when I was able to slow down. V slipped in to help me, sucking those tiny titties. I rolled onto my back, taking W with me, so that I had my cock up her cunt, while V slipped behind and fingered W's anal rim.
Then V strapped on the dildo and straddle W, so that I was fucking W's cunt with my dick, while V rocked on top and fucked W's asshole with that dildo. We were both whacking away in tandem, and poor sweet little W splayed like a tadpole, wailing in a broken voice as she made thrashing, swimming motions and I and V both attacked her in both holes with the vehemence and need of our passions and desires.
V and I both noticed at the same time that W was crying. She had tears running down her cheeks and was sobbing. "Is anything the matter?" I asked. V was all over her. "Darling sweet baby, are you okay?"
"Yes," W said, "I'm fine. I'm just so wanting you both that I can't get high enough. I just want to melt in a big orgasm, and I don't think people are designed to go this high this fast and this hard. I wish you would both eat me."
I and V put W before us, missionary, and licked her smooth pale buttocks and big pink cunt. Meanwhile, I squirmed around so that W could take my cock in her mouth, and she sucked on me like a lollipop. I saw V's dangling titties and sucked on those, and then moved down to her tight brownie cunt and tongued her. Pretty soon, all three of us came in a massive climax.
I was up there for six weeks in all, and for five of those weeks I had the most ungodly wonderful sex with these two older young women. We played and played, trying everything there is to try. Then, we went our separate ways for reasons that are too long to contain in the margins of this notebook.
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