somebody had to do it

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somebody had to do it
This is a story about romance and love that happened a
little over 20 years ago in a small town in South
Dakota. It is the first and will probably be my only “X-
rated” story. It has sex in it, but it is the “making
love” kind of sex. You won’t find any “bitches,”
“sluts,” or descriptions of sex hanging from the
chandelier. What you’ll find is a Christmas story
involving a man and woman who truly care for one
another. Their time together is illicit but beautiful.
If you need a quick fix read another story. If you care
to share an experience that was passionate, warm, and
years later poignant, please join me.

It began as I prepared for the biggest family Christmas
we’d had in years. Mostly because our parents were
getting old and we six “k**s” were thinking this might
be the last chance for all of us to be together.
Attendance was mandatory.

I was in Grad School in a college clear across the
country and had to be careful with my money. Going home
would break my bank but going home for Christmas was
important and I was going to be there. All we “k**s”
would be there except “Pete.” Pete was a successful
photo journalist who worked for one of the big news
agencies that commonly sent him all over the world to
get video and pictures to titillate their readers. When
all hell broke loose in some god-forsaken corner of the
world a few weeks before Christmas guess who was on the
next plane.

Pete was twelve years older than me. In fact, I was the
youngest, an unexpected “Tail-end Charlie.” My brothers
were so much older that I never had much to do with
them. But Andrea, Pete’s wife, had jump-started my early
teen age hormones the first time he brought her home
from college. I think she was the cornerstone for my
lifelong preference for smaller-breasted, petite, dark
haired, brown-eyed Hispanic or Mediterranean women
because that’s exactly what she was: An Italian beauty.
While her breasts were small they were proportionate to
her small body. Her dark, almost black hair hanging down
to just below her shoulders always seemed to glisten;
and her legs were perfectly shaped.

When Pete met her in college, where she was majoring in
“dance.” I don’t mean “pole dancing.” She was studying
classical ballet, hoping to become a ballerina. I was
sure she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen when
Pete brought her to meet the family. He was attending
college on a full-ride football “scholarship.” In
keeping with her interest in dance and her beauty,
Andrea was a cheerleader. Cheerleader… Jock. Bacon
and. Eggs, Horse and Buggy. But they seemed happy
together although it seemed to me that Andrea had more
light bulbs in her chandelier than Pete. Marrying him
killed her potential as a ballerina, but all those years
of study and practice weren’t wasted. She moved with a
gracefulness that was both sensual and awesome.

After they graduated, Pete, knowing that as a photo-
journalist he’d be gone a lot, bought a house in our
hometown so she’d be near family when he was away. She
had no other family because her parents had been killed
when she was a senior in high school. I was a senior in
high school when they moved here. That gave me plenty of
opportunity to get well-acquainted with Andrea as my
“big sister.”

And that’s the way we tried to look at our relationship
but after several months I think both of us felt the
sexual tension between us. In many ways she was like a
big sister, but at other times –and I think she knew it
– she acted like anything but my sister. I spent a lot
of time thinking “How great that would be…” and then
thinking, “But she’s my sister-in-law.” I had no idea
what she thought.

Andrea had a fresh, youthful beauty about her when Pete
first brought her home, but now, in her mid-30’s, she
had that mature, confident sensuality that some women
get as they age and I was really looking forward to
enjoying spending a little time with her over the
holidays.

I arrived home just before Christmas. My parent’s home
was filled with k**s, grandk**s and a few great-
grandk**s. Mom wouldn’t hear of anyone staying in a
motel so their house was chaotic when I arrived. When I
started to bring my stuff in Mom said she had spoken
with Andrea and they decided it would be silly for me to
stay in an already overcrowded house since Andrea had a
spare bedroom. Besides it would be safer if she “had a
man in the house” over the holidays.

For a moment the though “Depends on how you define safe”
flashed through my mind but I didn’t want to give Mom
any hint I was thinking any such thing. I accepted the
idea casually, hiding the pleasure I felt at the thought
of spending a few nights alone with Andrea.

“Sure, Mom,” I told her. “That will be okay. Andrea will
probably want to spend quite a bit of time over here
anyway.” So Mom called Andrea and told her I’d be coming
over later that evening. “I just hope he doesn’t mess up
your spare room too much,” she said loudly enough for me
to hear. Maybe it was my guilty conscience but I thought
for sure she put a little emphasis on the words “spare
room.”

I spent the rest of the day catching up with all the
news from my family, playing a little with my nephews
and nieces and just generally being the kindly Uncle and
interested brother. But my mind kept returning to where
I’d be after dinner. The thoughts didn’t cause me to
have an erection but for most of the afternoon I was
conscious of a very full feeling in my crotch. My penis
was telling my mind that “Hey, be aware that I exist for
something better than passing urine!”

After the chaos of dinner with my brothers, their wives
and k**s and my parents, I bundled up for the drive
across town to Andrea’s house. December in the upper
Midwest is a miserable place unless you love cold
weather and I don’t. My old car had barely gotten warm
enough to use the heater when I pulled into my “s*s’s”
driveway.

The moment I stepped out I felt the sting of cold but
caught the homey smell of wood burning in a fireplace.
Andrea had a fire going in the fireplace. “Okay,” I
thought. Fire in a fireplace can create a certain mood
between a man and a woman,” and as I walked to the door
that thought inspired the fire that was definitely
smoldering in my sexual “fireplace.”

Andrea answered the door dressed in a long, blue, very
dressy dressing gown that was zipped up to within a
couple of inches of her chin. Above the zipper there was
a button trapped inside a loop that kept the top closed
right up to the base of her neck. It was very prim and
proper attire to be wearing when a married lady’s
younger brother-in-law is coming to spend the night. It
had the desired effect.

My first thought was “Damn, this may not turn out to be
what I’ve been expecting after all.” But then I
remembered that in my experience a prim and proper
presentation is often there to hide a smoldering main
course. Was that wishful thinking or not? I wasn’t sure.

“Come in before you freeze your cojones off,” she said.
The casual and unexpected reference to my cojones didn’t
go unnoticed. “Oh, they won’t freeze that fast,” I
tossed the double entendre comment back to her as I
stepped through the entrance.

With no further comment Andrea gave me a sisterly hug,
pulling me just barely tight enough to feel the warmth
of her body and smell the cologne she was wearing. She
guided me upstairs and past their bedroom door. It was
wide open so I couldn’t help but notice that two large
scented candles were conspicuously burning as we walked
past that door and into the guest room.

“Drop your stuff in here, freshen up and then come on
downstairs. We can do a little “catching up” by the fire
while enjoying a snifter or two of brandy. You know
where the bathroom is. You can change into something
more comfortable and put on one of Pete’s dressing gowns
if you want to.” “Thanks, ‘s*s,” I deliberately threw in
the familial term. In case I was misreading all the
sexually slanted statements I didn’t want to give her
any reason to put her guard up.

I showered off the grime of the day, shaved and splashed
some nice cologne on my body. I thought about Andrea’s
suggestion to “put on something more comfortable. I
slept naked and didn’t own any pajamas so “something
comfortable” would come down to my boxer shorts and a
tee shirt. But I’d be covered with one of Pete’s
expensive dressing gowns. I decided to chance it so I
chose one of Pete’s nicer dressing gowns, slipped it
over my skivvies, carefully buttoned it up and headed
downstairs… not at all sure what I was going to find.

Well, I didn’t find Andrea lying naked on a bearskin rug
in front of the fireplace but I did find her curled up
on one end of a love seat with her feet gracefully
pulled up against her thighs the way girls often sit
casually. On the coffee table in front of her were two
brandy snifters and a full bottle of “Old Admiral”
brandy.

It looked promising, but I wasn’t about to believe this
was a slam-dunk “lay me down and stick it to me”
scenario. Like her brandy, which is one of the world’s
top five brands, Andrea was special and I knew that if
anything was going to happen between us she would have
to be treated “special.”

Giving me a good solid once-over look she said
appreciatively, “Well, that dressing gown fits you
nicely,” as I walked into the room. I stopped in front
of her, smiled and made a little mock bow and thanked
her.

“Pete likes high class stuff doesn’t he?” I said,
deliberately using a phrase that could be taken two
ways. “Yes, he likes the finer things in life and he can
afford them,” she paused for a moment, “but there are
some things that are just not for sale.” Saying that,
she uncurled those slim dancer’s legs and reached for
the brandy bottle, showing that she also knew how to say
two things at once.

“Well sit down here. We’ll warm our tummy’s with this
brandy and catch up on things. Haven’t seen you for
months. You get more handsome every time I see you.” She
patted the cushion next to her on the love seat. I was
wondering, was that a sisterly “blowing smoke up my ass”
compliment or something else, I wondered.

Sitting down next to her I quipped, “I’m pretty warm
already but I won’t fight getting warmer.”

As she poured brandy into the snifter I felt the sexual
tension in the room growing stronger with each comment.
I noticed then that the button at the top of her zipper,
which had been holding her dressing gown demurely tight
around her throat had been slipped out of the loop and
the zipper itself had been pulled down an inch or so.

She caught me looking at her throat that and said, “It
gets warm sitting in front of the fireplace. I love the
atmosphere it creates, but this is a very warm dressing
gown. I think you’ll find that yours is too.” I agreed
that it didn’t take long to get heated up while sitting
in front of burning logs but made no move yet to unzip
anything.

I intended for her to light the way until I was
absolutely sure where we were going. Getting kicked out
on my butt into the snow and causing a family scandal by
trying to seduce my brother’s wife was the last thing I
wanted my aging parents to have to deal with this
Christmas.

Andrea wasted no time getting the first slug of brandy
down her throat. I did likewise, then took her snifter
and mine, refilled both of them and handed hers back to
her.

“Are you trying to get your old sister-in-law tipsy,
young man?” an impish smile accompanied that question.

“I wouldn’t call you “old” by any standards. Like this
brandy, you’re at an age where the best of you shines
through.” I held my snifter towards her as I said that.

Things were apparently moving a little too fast for her
because she sipped at her refill and started asking me
about how my graduate studies were going, when was I
going to get my degree and those sorts of things. I went
along at her pace, still unsure as to just how far I
could take her and somewhat puzzled at the mixed signals
I was getting.

We got through all her questions and then it was my
turn. I wanted to probe a little to see how things were
going with her and Pete. Before answering she tossed
back what brandy was left in her snifter, hesitated a
little, then began telling me that this business of Pete
being gone so much of the time was starting to get to
her.

With her third refill of brandy she loosened up
considerably. She began admitting that living the life
of a single woman without the privileges that go with
being single was not what she wanted. I took that to
mean that she was not getting enough attention in bed.

While talking about this, I couldn’t really tell if it
was sort of an u*********s move because the fireplace
was throwing out a lot of heat or a clearly planned
“come on,” she seemingly absent-mindedly pulled the
zipper on her dressing gown down to the point at which I
could clearly tell that her breasts were naked beneath
it.

With that I decided it was time to fish or cut bait. I
sat my empty brandy snifter down on the coffee table,
reached for hers – which was almost empty – put it
alongside mine and turned toward her.

“No one as beautiful and as nice as you are should ever
have to be lonely so long as her lover is still living,”
I said looking as deeply as I could into those dark
pooled brown eyes.

“I love Pete, I do, but sleeping single in a king-sized
bed is miserable when I have a lover who should be there
with me but is halfway around the world doing God knows
what. And it’s absolute torture now at Christmas-time.”
Her eyes were moist as she looked at me.

“Andrea, I’m going to take a terrible chance. If I am
wrong in doing it please forgive me, but I have loved
you since I was a k** in high school. At first I was
just dazzled by your beauty but over the years I have
begun to feel something much different than how a
brother should feel toward his sister. Let’s cut through
the wondering I think we both feel and make this
Christmas one in which neither of us feel lonely.”

There, I had opened the door and now waited to see if a
fire-breathing dragon or a warm, beautiful woman was
behind it.

I didn’t have long to wait. Andrea looked at me for
several long seconds, then moved over and snuggled up
underneath my arm. She reached up and pulled the zipper
on my dressing gown down and put her hand on my bare
chest, lightly teasing the tips of my nipples which
immediately turned to tiny stones. I tipped her head
back a bit and very tenderly placed a brief butterfly-
light kiss on her lips.

“If we do this no one can ever know,” she whispered. “I
love Pete. I enjoy being a part of his family and if
anyone knew what we’re doing it would destroy all of
that.”

“I respect you far too much to ever do anything to hurt
you, my love.” In saying that I had really crossed the
line.

“Not here,” she said. “Upstairs. I need loving not
fucking.” Her use of the street term sort of shocked me,
but it clearly told me what she wanted. This was to be
no “Wham Bam, thank you Ma’am” encounter. We both wanted
the same thing. A sensible person doesn’t try to enjoy
filet mignon on a picnic blanket.

“Do whatever you need to do, then wait for me in bed. I
want to freshen up in the bathroom. Then I want you to
make love to me.” She said huskily.

With that she stood up and quickly went upstairs leaving
me sitting on the love seat. But only for a moment. I
hurried upstairs, freshened my mouth in the bathroom off
the master bedroom, hung Pete’s dressing gown on a hook,
threw the covers back and got into the big California
King-sized bed.

I didn’t have to wait long. Within moments I saw a
vision. Andrea was standing in the doorway dressed in a
floor length but very sheer peignoir. So sheer that I
could faintly but enticingly see the dark brown outline
of her areolas. With the doorway as a frame she was a
priceless painting but vibrantly alive.

She touched the light switch and stood there lit only by
candlelight. My heart was caught in my throat. She
smiled, our eyes locked together. Then she reached up to
her throat, untied the small bow knot that held her
peignoir on, shrugged her shoulders slightly and it
dropped to the floor.

Now in the years since that night I have been with many
women, some of them ordinary, some beautiful, but not
one of them could compare with, and if I live to be a
hundred none will ever compare with, the feminine beauty
of Andrea standing naked in that doorway. Long dark hair
pulled over her shoulder, almost covering one firm,
perfectly formed breast. Below her small waist a patch
of tightly curled, well-trimmed pubic hair hid the
source and summit of her loving. From there down, her
legs were those of a ballerina, slim and shapely.

I rose, met her halfway between the doorway and the bed.
I was also naked so when I pulled her in close to me,
holding her tightly in my arms, those elegant firm
breasts made their presence clearly known on my naked
skin. There was no music but we “danced” slowly toward
the edge of the bed, never breaking full body contact.
At the edge of the bed our lips met and parted, allowing
our tongues to first tentatively search out the other,
then having met, aggressively engage in a full-fledged
duel of love.

I laid her back onto the bed gently, crawled into the
huge king-size bed and began feasting my lips and tongue
on her hard nipples and surrounding areola. Her
breathing became ragged and shallow while her hands
searched for and found the rock-hard shaft that would
deliver my creamy cum into the innermost chamber of her
vagina. We kept that up, letting our bodies feel and
express love until she whispered, “My clitoris is
begging for your tongue.”

I trailed kisses down her belly and across the neatly
trimmed patch of pubic hair under which her clitoris lay
hidden. My lips found their target – the wet, slightly
parted entrance to her vagina and above it, the small,
delicate stem of her waiting clitoris. My tongue darted
out, found the target and began pleasuring her little
soldier.

Her juices began flowing as she mewled softly and rocked
her hips in that ancient thrusting, withdrawing movement
that tells more clearly than any words could what her
body so desperately craved. Her ecstasy overpowered her
as she violently thrust upwards against my lips, made a
desperate cry from deep in her throat and enjoyed a
thunderous climax.

“Oh, God, I needed that.” She murmured after the frenzy
of her climax left her momentarily limp. Lifting my lips
off her drenched thatch and swollen vulva I kissed her
stomach; then assured her, “No more than I needed to
give it to you, my love.”

Since it had been quite some time since I’d had sex and
given the fact that I had been thinking about Andrea off
and on all day I knew I would not be able to last long
the first time. I needed release and I did not want to
plant my seed anywhere except inside that lovely body I
had admired for so many years.

I move upward over her, taking a few moments to once
again enjoy the feel of her hard, protruding nipples
between my lips and then continuing on up to kiss her
slender throat on my way to her open lips. That movement
placed my penis on Andrea’s stomach with my nuts hanging
down against her wetness. She reached between us and
found what she needed. It was fully engorged and rock-
hard.

“Oh, a wet and warm Christmas present for me, huh? I
think I’m going to like it,” she murmured.

“I hope so. I’ve been getting it ready for you for a
long time. But unlike Santa I can come more than once a
year and I’m sure not going to go off up the chimney,” I
quipped.

With that, and with her hand firmly guiding the
“incoming” mail, I lifted my hips and moved down enough
for her to place its crown exactly where it needed to
be: at the entrance to her wet and waiting love tunnel.
She released her hold on it and I pushed very gently,
entering only the threshold but already feeling the
warmth and tightness that awaited me.

I began an unhurried, constant pressure, passing easily
through those inviting lips and entered her slowly,
centimeter by centimeter, wanting to prolong the
enjoyment of being sheathed by her love as possible. It
embraced me tightly, but without resistance. She was,
after all, a woman who had been married several years. I
continued my inexorable force. Finally, as my pubic hair
entwined in hers we pressed the full length of our
bodies close together in the most intimate embrace
possible.

Man, woman; male, female; dagger, sheath; both of us
euphoric with the knowledge that we are where we wanted,
where we needed to be. We held still, looking into each
other’s eyes: She fully impaled and I completely
consumed. Lips together, mouths opening, our tongues met
and began a love duel. We began a similar joy in our
groins. Fully sheathed I tightened the muscles which
caused my love muscle to expand inside her. In response
she tightened her vaginal walls refusing to let it
expand. Squeeze, relax, squeeze, relax, milking,
milking.

Knowing that I was going to empty myself in her
innermost vault made the moment priceless. I wanted to
prolong the pleasure but I couldn’t take it for long. I
began to withdraw as slowly as I had entered, feeling
those moist walls clinging to me, begging me to stay. It
was a feeling I’d never had before and, honestly, one
I’ve never felt so intensely since.

Then another inward push, but not so slowly this time.
She tilted her pelvis, pushing back and the age-old
rhythm began. As the tempo picked up I raised above her
so I could look down at her lovely face with its eyelids
fluttering, lips gasping for air, and those enticing
mounds that were now heaving up and down with her
quickened breathing.

She looked up and seeing the stress on my face knew I
was trying to hold back.

“Let go, love, let go. I need to feel your love shooting
into me,” she said with quickened breaths as I kept on
thrusting, withdrawing, thrusting, withdrawing faster
each time. I could hold no longer. With one final
thrust, pushing so deep into her that our pubic bones
were crushed together, and my head being crowned by her
cervix, I exploded. One, two, three, four enormous five
ropes of cream jetted into her inviting warmth bathing
her cervix in my seed.

I had wanted us to come simultaneously, but my intense
desire, which had been building all day, after having
been wished-for since I first met her, was more than my
willpower could handle. After emptying my load, I
quickly picked up the rhythm of our coupling and it
didn’t take long before Andrea began the free fall that
led her to a shattering, noisy orgasm.

The release of our mutual pent up tension was so great
that we collapsed next to one another, both of us
chuckling with satisfaction.

“Wow! My compliments to the chef. That was so good I
think I’ll have to go back for seconds,” Andrea smiled
contently, gently fondling my package which was now
covered with “his and hers” juices.

“At your pleasure, Ma’am. Just give the chef a little
time and he’ll have it ready for you.” I gave her still
hard nipple a gentle pinch.

We turned toward one another and spent the next several
minutes exploring with our hands, kissing and speaking
love words softly to one another.

“I believe the kitchen is open again,” pushing my hard
rod into her tummy.

“Oh, I better inspect it. It might need to be cleaned up
a bit.” Andrea raised up, twisted around so that my wet,
now hard penis was right in front of her face.

“Yep, can’t serve out of a kitchen like that. Needs to
be cleaned.” And with that she brought her lips down,
took me into her mouth and began her “housekeeping.”

Briefly taking her mouth off my penis but holding onto
it firmly with one hand, she said, “I want to taste you
and I’ll swallow every drop you give me.”

It didn’t take much more of her expertly sliding her
lips up and down over my shaft, licking the crown, and
squeezing my balls gently before I felt it coming up. My
balls tightened, my dick twitched as jerked as I emptied
another huge load of love juice into her mouth and
throat. She sucked greedily as I filled her mouth but
not a drop escaped. She swallowed it all except for a
dollop of cream she kept on her tongue which she shared
with me with a deep kiss.

After another coupling, this time with Andrea on top
riding me as a cowgirl, we fell into each other’s arms
and after a bit of gentle love play, nibbling on her
nipples, tonguing her sweet areola while she played with
my now limp penis and balls, we fell asleep, exhausted.

An hour or so later I awoke with a raging hard-on
pressed tightly against Andrea’s lovely butt. I didn’t
know how I got into that position but now that I was
there and awake I was ready to make the most of it. I
reached around and covered Andrea’s breast with my hand.
They matched perfectly. With a few gentle squeezes I
felt her pushing back against my hardness.

“Go for it tiger. Feeling my lover behind me, holding my
breast while pumping hot hardness into me has always
been one of my favorite positions,” she sleepily
murmured as she reached down between her legs took hold
of my rod and guided it to her waiting, still wet labia.
I let her take the lead on this one. She thrust that
shapely butt back into me slowly at first, then
increasingly fast until suddenly she slammed back hard
and began crying out as she came hard and fast. Her
passion was my trigger. As she slammed back and ground
her butt into me my balls swelled and burst causing
another burst of cream to shoot out into Andrea’s
warmth.

“Oh God, you are good. I won’t get into that crap about
how you’re bigger or better than Pete but you’d better
know that you have satisfied me completely. You’ve made
a Christmas that was shaping up to be awfully lonely one
of the best I’ve ever had.” She rolled over toward me
and kissed me long and hard.

We were wakened by the jangling sound of her bedside
telephone. I started to answer it but caught myself. It
wouldn’t do for me to answer her bedroom telephone.
Andrea picked it up.

“Oh, hi, Mom,” she said cheerily. “No, he’s still in
bed. We both went to bed pretty soon after he got here.
Tired, you know.” She said that with a devilish grin as
she reached over and gave my dick a little squeeze.

“Yeah, I’ll wake him up, feed him some breakfast and
then we’ll come over. See you later,” she said breezily.

“You do know how to tell the truth without telling the
truth, don’t you?” I teased her. “We both went to bed
soon after I got here.”

Now we had time for a slow, morning wake-up; a loving
session with no rush. The edge had been taken off for
both of us. Now we were just celebrating love – making
love. After showering together and having one more
“quickie” in the shower we grabbed a couple of breakfast
bars, washed them down with coffee and headed across
town to “do Christmas” with the family.

I had three more nights before I had to make the long
drive back to lonely apartment and the grind of graduate
school. Those were three of the most memorable nights I
have ever spent. When it was time to go I kissed Andrea
goodbye. We both knew it wasn’t likely we’d ever have
the opportunity to be lovers again.

Before I left she looked at me lovingly and said, “I
have a secret to tell you. But you must always keep it
just between us.”

She paused and her eyes glistened with tears.

“I wanted all this to happen as much as you did. I
always thought you were attractive and for years I’ve
wondered if we would be good in bed together. Now I
know. We are very good in bed.”

I was back in the grind of graduate school, trying to
put Andrea and how I felt about her out of my mind. She
was married to my brother. Unavailable. Lovely, warm and
sensual, but unavailable.

I received a letter from Mom a week or so after I got
back in my apartment. Usual motherly stuff. She wrote
that Pete had gotten home from his assignment the day
after I left. She was disappointed that I’d just missed
him.

Six weeks later I received a letter with no return
address. I opened it and saw that it was from Andrea. It
was a warm, loving letter telling me again how wonderful
our time together had been. She also told me that Pete
had gotten home right after I left.

“He got home totally horny. I didn’t mind. I do love him
and he is good in bed. We made love over the next few
days at about the same rate you and I did.

But the real news I have to tell you is this. I am
pregnant. The doctor confirmed it this morning. Too
early to tell if it’s boy or girl, but it’s definitely
filling up my belly. Pete and I have been trying to
start a family for several months with no success. Now
he is elated. I am pregnant. Is it his c***d or yours? I
don’t know and I don’t want to know.

“It doesn’t matter. It is a love c***d either way. It
will carry the family name legitimately and for so long
as I live I never want to know which of you fathered it.
So – lover – you are soon going to be either an uncle or
a daddy. You take your pick. I care for you deeply,
always will and I will always remember the glorious
Christmas I spent with you making love to me when I so
desperately needed it.”

Years passed. Andrea and I never shared a bed again.
Pete was promoted to be the bureau chief in their
Atlanta office. They moved, our parents died and we
seldom saw one another. I married a beautiful, fine lady
and gave her two boys. Andrea’s c***d grew up to be a
very handsome, intelligent young man.

Funny thing is… he has never had any interest in
sports. I understand that he is more the bookish,
intellectual type.

END

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