Priest's Wife Changed My Life

There is no sexual involvement of a person under 18 in the story.

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Since my wife died, 2 years ago, my routine has changed dramatically. I continued working as a Comcast Xfinity store manager, but I became depressed, and the time I spent with the many friends I used to have has decreased significantly. I started strolling in the nearby park, and sat down recalling the sweet memories I used to have with my wife: Our first date at a party, our trip to Maui, the first sexual encounter, which ended up prematurely as her parents caught us in the act... She was the love of my life, and her inoperable brain cancer cut our love prematurely.

It took me about a year to gradually lessen the pain of her leaving me. I continued walking in the park and lately I brought my iPad with me. After a short stroll, I sat on a shady bench and for about 1/2 an hour, watched the international news, read interesting articles, and e-mailed to distant relatives and friends.

One afternoon, a conservatively dressed woman I'd occasionally passed by, sat on the bench opposite me. I nodded my head to say hi, and she smiled at me. I continued working on my iPad and forgot about the woman. The next afternoon, as I approached 'my' bench, I noticed her sitting on the same bench as before. I smiled at her, and she waved at me. I began reading an interesting essay by Tom Friedman, but I got the feeling I was being stared at. Yes, the lady's eyes were focused on me. I smiled at her again. Then I saw the tears in her eyes.

I moved in her direction and said, "I do not wish to bother you, but I saw you crying. Is there anything I can help you with?"

She muttered, "Unfortunately, not, but thank you."

I returned to my bench for another 10 minutes and drove back home. I ate dinner and watched a movie on Netflix, and soon the lady's memory disappeared.

The following day, I was busier at work and arrived at the park an hour later. As I arrived at my usual bench, the lady was sitting on hers. I said hello, and she had a broad smile, "I thought you saw me crying yesterday and chose not to come."

"I had a hectic day at work, but I see no reason to stop coming here. The stroll with a sit on the bench relaxes me."

"I feel the same way. It is so quiet and peaceful here. Why are you in the park by yourself? Your wife doesn't like walking here?"

"I am a widower. My wife died 2 years ago of cancer. What about you? A husband? Children?"

She had a bitter smile, "Not that lucky. I am married, but no children yet. With god's help, I hope to start having soon."

"Doesn't your husband like to stroll around here?"

"He is a priest in the Episcopal church down the road. He is a busy man, who chose to dedicate his life to god's work."

When she talked, her face expressed agony, and I decided to leave it be.

"Do you work outside the home? Have any hobbies, interests?" I inquired.

"Most of the time I am at home, cleaning, laundry, cooking, the usual stuff. Coming to the park is my only refuge. As a young girl, I used to dream about traveling the world, but shortly after marrying Arthur, I realized that god had other plans for me."

"I am not qualified to judge, but what you describe sounds boring to me. You are still very young, is this the life you wish to have for at least 60 more years?"

She lowered her head and stayed mum. I felt for her.

I said, "Rather than coming to the same park every day, you can drive another 10 minutes, and see a different park, you know, for variety's sake."

She blushed, "I am not a good driver. This park is close to my house and an easy drive. I'd be scared to drive that far."

I hesitated, "Next time you come here, I can drive both of us over there, and bring you back an hour later."

She muttered, "Sir, I do not doubt you are an honorable person, but I am married, and your offer, though nice, seems inappropriate. I know nothing about you. Not even your name."

I extended my hand, "My name is Nathan. I am Jewish. I am 47 and work as a store manager for Xfinity."

She grinned, "My name is Maria. I belong to the Episcopalian Anglican church. I am 26, and as I said before, I do not have children."

"Maria is a nice name. You are at the age my daughter could have been, if I had one. I know if you were my daughter, I'd like you to aspire for more in life, but I am not here to preach. In any case, if one day you change your mind and choose to see the other park, let me know. Take care."

I began walking away, noticing from the corner of my eye that Maria's eyes followed me.

...

On 3 consecutive afternoons, I met Maria in the same spot. Each time we talked for a while and learned more about each other. When she found out I excelled in math and physics, but was mediocre in literature and Grammar, she giggled, saying she was the opposite.

Maria started showing more interest when I told her I was an amateur photographer and had many pictures stored on hard drives at home. She asked why I didn't uploaded them onto the cloud. I responded that my father showed me how to do it before the cloud was available, and I got used to doing it, but if I was to start today, most likely I would have done it differently.

Next, Maria asked if she could see some photos. I told her next time I'd upload photos on my iPad and show her a few. Maria said her favorite pictures were of flowers and sunsets, so before arriving the following day, I arranged 2 files with pictures of these subjects.

Maria liked some of the sunsets I shot in various places, but LOVED the flower photos. She mumbled, "I envy your gift." I told her that these days, with simple photo shoot cameras, it was very easy to get good pictures. I offered to teach her how to do it, and the next afternoon, I brought my cheap Canon SX60 to the park. I showed her only the automatic setting. We strolled together for 1/2 an hour. During the first 10 minutes, she saw me taking photos of tall trees, colorful flowers, birds, and dogs running around. Then, I let her try. Her initial attempts weren't very good: Some were out of focus, and others were not inside the frame, but after a patient explanation about her mistakes, the last 3 photos were much better. She smiled and looked happy.

I said, "You see, you can be a good one as well. Nowadays, cameras are sophisticated, and even automatic settings are good enough for 90% of what we wish to capture. The other park I suggested to go to the other day has many more options, so if you change your mind and join me for half an hour there, you can use my camera and improve your skills. Later, if you wish, I can print for you your favorite photos and you can hang them on the walls at your house."

Maria muttered, "Let me think it over."

...

To my surprise, the next afternoon, Maria came to the park dressed less conservatively: she had a midi style skirt and long sleeved blouse, and she looked much better than in her baggy clothes before. I gazed at her, noticed her face was cute and her figure quite attractive, but chose not to alarm her, so I said quietly, "These clothes suit you perfectly." Her face flushed, and she blurted, "I thought we could try going to the other park, if your offer is still valid."

The drive was short. The other park was more interesting: It had a narrow river and beautiful trails near Mt Washington. I gave Maria the camera and she began shooting. For the first 5 minutes, she shot like 20 photos, and then she started running, jumping, and behaving like an enthusiastic teenager. I laughed and she did the same, telling me she hadn't felt that good in a long time. I let her loose with the camera and enjoyed her cheerful demeanor.

Half an hour later, I reminded her it was time to go back. She seemed disappointed but agreed with me. On the way back, she mumbled that she loved it there. I told Maria that I'd be happy to drive her to that or other nice parks around and bring the camera for her to photograph whatever she wanted. As we separated, she muttered, "Nathan, you are a good man. Thank you very much for brightening my day."

In the next 2 weeks, the weather cooperated, and we visited several parks. Then, on the following Monday, I printed three 11X8 pictures that she shot. I selected the ones I thought were the best and brought them in a large manila envelope.

Maria's eyes teared up, "You are so nice to me. I do not deserve it."

"Why not?"

"I am a married woman. To a Christian priest, no less, and you are Jewish. We spend time together without my husband around or him even knowing about it..."

"But Maria, as you saw already; I am harmless. The only things we have done together are talking, strolling, and taking innocent photos. And I don't see what having a different religion has anything to do with it."

She smiled bitterly, "I agree with you, but my I suspect my husband will see it differently if he knew about our spending time together each day."

I grinned, "So don't tell him. At least the two of us know everything between us is kosher." She glanced at me for a moment and remained quiet.

...

The friendship between Maria and me continued to strengthen. Not getting caught and knowing everything we did was purely platonic calmed Maria's nerves, and at least once a week, we drove to another park in the area to diversify and have a picnic with sandwiches and soda. The trust between us grew, and slowly we began confiding in each other about our health issues, dreams, and even personal dilemmas.

One of the first subjects Maria asked me was about my house: Was it big or small? How many bathrooms? Did I decorate my home myself? Her curiosity was almost endless, and I did my best to give her as many details as I could. I told her I lived in a two-story house with 4 bedrooms, 2 complete bathrooms, a large living room, a family room, a modern kitchen that my late wife arranged, and a basement with exercise equipment.

When I mentioned I loved Impressionist paintings and all the walls in my living room were decorated with lithographs and posters of painters of that era, her eyes brightened, "I love paintings by Renoir, Corot, Monet, Pissarro, and Gauguin. In high school, I hoped one day to visit the Musee D'Orsay in Paris."

I grinned, "It may not be Paris, but at home, I hung copies of artistic works by some of the names you mentioned. In my library, I also have books about these painters. One day, if you are in the mood to see them, let me know, and we'll drive to my house to see them. If you see a book you want to read, you can take it home with you as well."

Maria smiled, "Sounds terrific, but how do I explain the book at home?"

"You can say you registered with the local library. It's free."

Maria didn't say anything, and her face suggested she struggled with the idea. I didn't push and moved to describe my yard: A small gazebo, a whirlpool for 4 that my wife and I frequently used after a tiring day at work, a flower garden which wasn't touched since she perished, and a couple of fruit trees.

The following afternoon, Maria told me she was tempted to visit my house and see the paintings, but was reluctant 'to cross the line'. I said it was OK, but if she ever changes her mind, just tell me.

For a full week, Maria was quieter than usual. By that time, she arrived at the park dressed 'normal' and we felt confident to tell each other our thoughts and feelings. I guessed her upbringing and being married made her uncomfortable to visit my house, and I knew better than to force the issue. A week later, she mumbled that she wished to visit my house.

My reaction was simple, "Just tell me when."

"Tomorrow, I'll come to the park half an hour earlier, and you'll drive us."

...

The next day, before driving to the park, I arranged and cleaned the house as much as I could, and made sure I had coffee, various kinds of teas, a fresh cheesecake, snacks, and cold drinks.

For some reason, I was nervous. Was it because I tried to impress her with my house? Was it because our relations went up a notch? I wasn't sure. I liked Maria. She wasn't what you'd call a beauty queen, but her face was cute, and when she smiled, it made me feel good.

She arrived on time, and I opened the passenger's door for her. She commented that it was a big car for only me. I agreed and said I bought it when my wife was alive, and we planned to have kids. She muttered, "Sorry, Nathan. My comment was out of place."

I said, "Maria dear, my wife was the love of my life, but I am over it now, so no need to apologize."

After parking the car, I opened the front door and led her to the living room. She sat on the sofa, and I asked, "What will you drink?"

"Green tea, if you have it."

"Coming shortly."

When I came from the kitchen with a tray of teas and cookies, I saw Maria standing before a famous poster of Jane Avril made by Toulouse Lautrec. I stood behind her and explained some facts about the artist's life and the poster. Maria said nothing and moved to the second work. It was a copy of San Giorgio Maggiore by Claude Monet. I again moved behind her and quoted from Wikipedia details about the painter and this painting. As I was talking, I could smell her hair. It was fresh, floral, and... intoxicating. As I continued reciting facts, I felt her head move back and lightly lean on my chest. I assumed it was unintentional, and ignored it. Then she walked to the next one, which was a small lithograph of A Woman With A Flower by Gaugin. I started explaining that I admired the artist and liked mainly the works he made in Tahiti. Again, Maria's head rested on my chest. I was surprised, but happy she felt comfortable in my house. I placed my hands on her waist and continued talking. She didn't react. However, after the 3rd painting, she turned to me with tears in her eyes and whispered, "Nathan, will you forgive me if I don't have the tea? Please drive me back to the park."

I mumbled, "Maria, I am very sorry if I offended you. Let me bring the car keys, and I'll take you back."

The whole drive, she was very quiet, face down. I didn't know what to say, so I shut up as well. As she was out of the car, she eyed me and said, "Nathan, it's not you. You did nothing wrong. It's me." Then she turned and walked away.

...

For the next 3 days, Maria did not show up at the park. Was she sick? Did she hold a grudge against me? No idea. I felt bad, but there was nothing I could do about it. On the 4th afternoon, she arrived, sat by me, and... remained silent.

I said, "Maria, I do not understand what is happening. Please, tell me if I screwed up because I can assure you it was unintentional."

She mumbled, "Nathan, I told you the other day that nothing was your fault. I was struggling with myself."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Maria stared into my eyes, and I saw a little smile, "Will you drive us again to your house and let me see the other paintings in your living room?"

I almost fell off the bench, but held tight and said, "Sure. Do you mean now?"

"... yes. Now..."

We drove to my house without talking as I tried to guess the reason behind her unusual behavior. When we arrived, Maria approached the living room wall and inspected a copy of The Star by Edgar Degas. I stayed away, reluctant to make the wrong move again, but I heard her muttering, "Will you please come and introduce me to Edgar Degas and this painting as you did before?"

I moved behind her and began telling her about the artist, but she interrupted me, "Come closer, I cannot hear you well." I stayed inches from her back and started talking again about Degas. Then I felt her head lean on my chest. I continued, not knowing what to do next. As we moved to Paul Cezanne's Basket Of Tulips, Maria's backside also pressed against my front. Her smell and her soft touch were both pleasant and... arousing. As I continued talking I felt my penis gradually stiffening. I finished rapidly and let her move to Renoir's Girls At The Piano. I attempted to keep a distance behind Maria, but she moved back, and again pressed her body against mine.

It became apparent she did it on purpose, and my arousal grew further, creating a bulge in my front. There was no way she wouldn't feel it. I placed my palms on her waist and continued talking. Next, her hands moved to cover mine and gingerly caressed them. My pecker rose another notch.

As I was ready to move to Pissarro's Two Young Peasant Women, her hands slowly pushed mine to her tummy and then upward, toward her chest. I was frozen and allowed her to move my hands as she wished. Her soft, tiny palms guided me to cup her covered breasts and later knead them gently. I was mesmerized by her doing, and for a couple of minutes, did not react.

When my mind cleared up, I whispered, "Maria, are you sure? I don't want you to hate me for taking advantage of the situation..."

She murmured, "During the time I was away, my brain and heart struggled about this. You are not only a good and decent man, but I found myself attracted to you, which frightened me to death. In theory, we are the least likely to have a deep connection: The age difference, the religion, me being married to a priest... yet I fell for you. The fact that my relationship with my husband is far from satisfactory may have been a factor as well. And then I noticed you found me attractive, and my heart won. Look, you may be reluctant to do anything about it because of your morals, and I'll understand, but I wanted to let you know I was ready in case you were..."

"Maria dear, as you said; if we go ahead with what our bodies wish, it would be a MAJOR sin. I am not married, and in my case, the problem is less. However, if we continue, your marriage and future will be on the line."

She turned to me and, like twice before, tears filled her beautiful eyes, "When I first met my husband, he was nice, smiley, and comforting. It took me time to realize he wanted more than just to treat me as one of his flock. When he confessed to me that he hoped we could get married, I agreed immediately. In the beginning, he was the perfect new husband. He helped me at home, showed interest in my dreams, and agreed that we should have 3 children. The first time he made love to me, he was patient, and the pain was short. Slowly, I began liking our twice a week sexual acts. Six months have passed, and I have not gotten pregnant. We went to a doctor who told us that I was the problem. I have a severe case of Endometriosis, and I was lucky not to have significant symptoms, but the affected uterine tissue is too large for a fertilized egg to attach to a healthy part, so the chances of having babies were very remote. Despite the doctor's diagnosis, we continued trying for another year, but when it didn't work, Arthur, my husband, became angry at me, and gradually our relationship deteriorated. These days, he hardly talks to me, blaming me for not being able to give him children, and refusing to have sex because, for him, sex is for procreation rather than enjoyment. To cut the story short, my life is in shambles. And then I met you..."

I took her in my arms, "Maria, what do you want me to say, or do?"

"I like you very much and wish to feel good with you..."

"I'll be more than happy to spend time with you as much as you want, but how far are you willing to go with it? Do you mean having intimate relationship? If you are unhappy with Arthur, isn't it better to divorce him?"

"I hinted to him that since he didn't like me anymore, perhaps it was time to separate, but he stared at me with disgust and said that he would never divorce me. God directed him to marry me even though I was unable to bring him children, which meant that god wished him to suffer by being married to me until one of us dies. I attempted to persuade him a couple of times that his conviction would make both of us miserable for life, but he insisted that it was god's will and nothing would change it. So I am stuck in a loveless marriage and am fond of you more than I thought possible." She glanced at my eyes pleadingly.

I could not resist: The combination of her sad life story with my arousal was above and beyond my wish to stop and think it over. I kissed her lightly. She closed her eyes and puckered her lips. I kissed her again, gently spread her full lips, and my tongue penetrated her warm mouth. She groaned, and her hands hugged me. Her firm tits pushed against my lower chest and my organ throbbed. As we continued French kissing, Maria's abdomen ground mildly against my hardness.

I disengaged and said, "Maria, I like you very much, and the last thing I wish is to cause something you might later regret. But I am only human, and if we continue, my body will win the war with my brain, and we'll end up in bed. Don't you want to think about the direction our relations are going BEFORE taking the step of no return?"

She muttered, "I thought about it for too long. Unlike Arthur, MY religious conviction was never very strong. I thought we'd have a good and happy life together, but fate chose differently: My marriage is unhappy, and divorce is not realistic. In the current situation, the best I can do is have a double life with the hope he won't find out."

"Dear girl, would you like us to continue talking about it, go to a restaurant, or watch TV?"

She stared at my face and blurted, "If it was up to me, I'd like to go with you to bed..."

I hesitated for a moment and sighed. My body ached to have her, yet my mind fought hard to stop me. Her definitive talk tilted the balance. I grabbed her hand and gently pulled her toward my bedroom.

...

As we entered the dark room, she blurted, "Nathan, please, don't turn up the lights. For the first time, I wish to touch, feel, and imagine each other rather than staring. I'll die of shame if something in my body disgusts you..."

I chuckled, "The likelihood there is ANYTHING in your figure that will make me not want you is more remote than Kim Jon Un becoming the next American president."

"I believe you, but still..."

We undressed in the dim light, barely able to locate the bed. I helped her enter and joined her. When her tiny hand first touched my body, it felt like an electric shock. Her hand was soft with a sensual fluttery touch. As my fingers met her shoulder, Maria trembled. I caressed her tenderly, aiming to calm her nerves. Within seconds, her shivering was gone, and I moved closer. I kissed her and my hand closed on her left boob. Her breathing stopped, anticipating my touch. The breast was medium sized, warm, and firm, with a hard nipple.

Maria moaned, "My nipples are very sensitive..."

"Good. I am tempted to taste it. May I?" She didn't respond, but her groan was a positive signal. I kissed it and then milked it lightly. Maria whimpered. My hand moved along her figure, exploring it. Her flat tummy with the concave navel felt fantastic, and my pole reached a full mast in seconds. Her respiration became shallow. I took her palm and placed it on my rigid member. She gasped and attempted unsuccessfully to envelop it with her fingers.

She whispered, "You are huge... Much bigger than Arthur..."

I started tweaking her tits and muttered, "Honey, it may be bigger, but I am sure your vagina will be able to accommodate it without difficulty."

Subsequently, my hand moved further south, meeting her soft bush. Her swollen labia were soaked, and she began quivering again.

I murmured, "Relax, I won't hurt you. I'll make sure both of us have a pleasant experience."

Maria whispered, "I am horny, but I am scared..."

I gently spread her legs apart, moved in between, and bent my face onto her cunt. The aroma was musky sweet. I licked her nectar and savored it. Initially, she squirmed under me, but then her hand pushed my head deeper into her. Next, I inserted my index finger into her pussy, trying to feel the inside. Seconds later, I penetrated with a second finger and started fingering her slowly. Shortly after, her torso tensed, and she underwent a blissful orgasm. I continued fingering her for a while longer and added clitoral manipulation. Her body jolted, and her climax heightened twofold.

I loved playing with her sexy body, but my cock began aching, reminding me he wanted to join our pleasurable game. I moved up, knelt between her thighs, aimed the spongy head toward her pussy lips and gingerly advanced forward. She was right; her tunnel was tight. I progressed extremely slowly, helped by the abundant juices that coated her pussy. Maria's breathing became labored, and her fingernails pinched my sides. Her orgasm never diminished, and her shaking turned erratic. When my cock was all the way in, I started thrusting into her slowly and gently, ensuring her cunt had adjusted to my large organ. Gradually, my strokes intensified.

By now, Maria was shuddering uncontrollably and whimpering loudly. I was also reaching the point of no return. I shifted up my pounding and with a grunt, I came deep in her vagina. When my sperm flow decreased, I kissed her tenderly, and got out of her pussy.

We rested for 10 minutes in bed. Then she mumbled, "That was awesome. I needed that. Thank you."

I caressed her face lovingly and said, "Maria, I think I am the one who should thank YOU. I loved every moment of our sex. You have a heavenly body!"

She giggled, "That's why I wanted us to do it in the dark. My body is not perfect, but you imagine differently in the dark."

"Maria, I'd love to have you here for as long as you want, but I think we need to leave soon."

She checked her watch and jumped from bed, "You are right. Please dress up, and we have to get back before Arthur returns home.

The drive went without talking, but we glanced at each other with satisfied smiles. As I dropped her by the park's entrance, I said, "Unless you want something different, I'll be here again tomorrow at the usual time."

She kissed my lips tenderly, and whispered, "Thank you again," and exited the car.

...

For a full week, each time we met at the park, drove to my house, and enjoyed a sexual encounter. The 'no lights' rule was off the table the second time we met, and I told her that with a great body like hers, I didn't understand her shyness. Maria was hungry for sex of all kinds. She gave me free rein, and we experimented with doggy style and cowgirl. She loved 69 as well, and swallowing my cum added to her pleasure: "Arthur never came in my mouth. According to him, man's seed was intended to produce children. I like the taste and the texture, and knowing it contains healthy ingredients makes it the ultimate drink!"

Two weeks have passed, and one afternoon, after a particularly amazing sex session, I said to Maria, "Honey, you told me Arthur refused to consider a divorce because, according to him, you two ended up together by god's will. Why don't you talk to the bishop? Tell him the troubles you and Arthur have in your marriage, and perhaps HE may be able to persuade your husband that, under these circumstances, the Episcopalian church does NOT view a divorce as something bad."

She stared at my eyes, "Is it a good idea? Are you considering marrying me if I am available?..."

"Maria, I am not a jerk. We both know I am 20 years older than you and a Jew. That is too much, and though I am very fond of you, I won't embarrass both of us by proposing to you. But once you are not tied to Arthur, I have no doubts you'll find a nice young guy who will give you a new chance at a normal life."

She muttered, "I am not interested in 'a nice young guy'. You I know, and during the short time we are together, I fell in love with you."

"But honey, be realistic. Right now, you are young and attractive, while I am already a middle aged man. In America, the average life expectancy for men is 5 years LESS than that of women. So statistically speaking, after my death, you'll have about 25 years of being alone..."

"Statistics means nothing. Each of us can die in a car accident, from cancer, or a tornado. It's either you or I do not talk to the bishop."

"For god's sake, you have an unfulfilled marriage. If I am right, it may save you many years of suffering."

"Why don't YOU wish to marry me?"

"Honey, since my wife's demise, you are the best thing that happened to me. My hesitation is related to knowing that it will prevent you from spending your youth with a guy your age."

"Nathan, I want you, and only you."

"Let's compromise: Talk to the bishop and see if he can be convinced to talk to Arthur. Even if you get a divorce, it will take many months or even more. By then, you may change your mind about wishing to spend many years with a stubborn oldie."

She had a broad smile, "We'll see."

...

We continued our secret meetings about twice a week. Maria found excuses to tell Arthur she stayed out longer, going to literature courses. While spending more time at my house, in addition to sex, she began cooking and doing my laundry. Our bond strengthened rapidly, and 2 months later, I knew I loved her. It wasn't just the sex and working at home, but she was smart, funny, and really a nice person.

For 3 months, neither of us mentioned the discussion with the bishop. And then, one afternoon, Maria hugged me and said she got the courage and confessed to the bishop about her issues with Arthur. Of course, she neglected to mention anything related to me. The bishop was understanding and promised to have a talk with Arthur. I was happy for her, hoping Arthur the priest would listen to his superior.

A week later, apparently the bishop and Arthur talked, because Maria told me that the other evening, Arthur returned home furious that she told the bishop about their marital problems. She said that, despite the embarrassment, in the long run it would be better for both of them to separate early rather than later. After an hour of back and forth verbal fighting, the husband calmed somewhat and said he'd think about a divorce. It was good news, but Maria and I had to be extra careful not to get caught.

We still met, but cut our time together to one hour once a week, at my house only. Sex was terrific: Having less time to enjoy our escapades, and the prospect of Maria getting free made us hungrier for each other. We barely entered the front door and we were in each other's arms. We fucked like rabbits for the full hour in every place possible: Yes, on the bed too, but also on the rug, the kitchen table, the shower, everywhere...

Another 2 months have passed, and Arthur agreed to separate officially. Maria and I celebrated it with a glass of white wine and a prolonged roll in the hay.

...

Fast forward 5 years.

Maria and I were wed 3 years ago in a modest ceremony. We have a baby, 1 year old Nadia. We adopted her, but love her as if she was really ours. Nadia's red hair and blue eyes are nothing like ours, but who cares?

In the few hours Nadia is asleep, Maria and I spend our time with our favorite activity: Sex, SEX, and MORE SEX.