“Should I be worried?” I asked her across the kitchen table.“About Yogi Marcel,” she asked, not realizing how silly she sounded. I couldn’t ...help but chuckle.“Yogi? Is he smarter than the average bear?” I fired back, sure that my wit would win me some Brownie points.“Huh? Bear?” she had an angry look on her face until she figured out my joke. “Oh. Yogi Bear. Cute. He’s a yoga master, so he is known as a Yogi. It’s a title, you know, a sign of respect.”“Yes, I know what a title is,” I replied,. I wanted to do this for him. I would worry about the morality of our actions later. Tonight we were alone and right now I wanted to make my stepbrother climax, much as he just done for me. I wanted to share his climax with him and to be part of it. His cock was rigidly hard, pointing straight up. It was the first penis I had seen ‘in the raw’. It was far thicker and longer than his fingers. I knew instantly that would not fit inside my tiny vaginal opening…no way. That thing would tear me. It was only during those occasional down times that I had when I would dwell on the loss of Oliver. I even got permission to have my students perform two plays, 'A Christmas Carol' in the winter and 'The Diary of Anne Frank' for the end of the year.However, there were challenges for me that I had neither expected nor anticipated. It seemed everywhere Lara and I went, I was seeing Oliver, or men who I thought were Oliver. I even chased one poor man for several blocks convinced it was Oliver,. But the more Gabe and I talked, the more comfortable I got; and of course, the drinking helped too.“Do you live around here?” Gabe eventually asked.“Oh no,” I said. “I-I mean, I’m just visiting.”“That’s cool,” he said. “Me, I live right around the corner. It’s so nice being able to walk here—”“So you come here a lot?”“I try to,” he said. “But some nights here are more fun than others.” He leaned in toward me, and the next thing I knew, we were kissing.I suddenly felt self-conscious again. .