Date: Fri, 22 Oct 2004 12:57:49 +0100
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Subject: Re: Ruthie (part 6 of 6) (Mf, oral; inc, m/g, pedo)
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Nikki@P.U. wrote:
> Ruthie (part 6 of 6) (Mf, oral; inc, m/g, pedo)
>
> by 'Jack'
>
>
> RUTHIE SIX
> I felt guilty but had to do something. My Ruthie was bringing
> her father home this morning and I was going to stay in the house and
> see what happened. Please understand: I wasn't planning a confrontation
> or anything like that; I just had to help myself if I could. Perhaps if
> I could hear them and see what their relationship was like it might give
> me some ideas.
> There'd be no trouble if I were careful. The house was almost a
> mansion, with a central upstairs hall surrounded by bedrooms, most now
> unused. They connected to the ones on either side through a big closet
> or a shared bathroom. You could circle the second floor and never step
> into the hall. For quick flight, windows opened onto porch rooves in
> front and back. I planned to be quiet, but there were plenty of routes
> if I had to retreat.
> The closet between Ruthie's father's room and one that stored
> old furniture would be my hiding place. An unused bedroom just beyond
> the storeroom gave onto the back porch roof. Its window was open for
> emergency use and went downstairs. I drove off and parked several blocks
> away, returning on foot. Once inside I locked both doors and settled
> down to wait.
> Memories of Ruthie filled my mind as I sat on the window seat
> and watched through the curtain. Our relationship couldn't stay like
> this, hiding and seeing her just when she could slip away from him. It
> had to grow. I wanted Ruthie for myself. I loved Ruthie now.
> The pictures in her baby book came to mind, and Ruthie in front
> of the fireplace. How I wish I could have known her then. I recalled our
> time at the lake, and replayed the dream of my non-existent daughter and
> Ruthie's sweet awakening. I nearly failed to notice when the car drove
> up.
> Shoes off, I ran to my hiding place in the closet.
> The house was solidly built; and though I heard the door open
> and close, their voices were inaudible. I hoped they would come upstairs
> soon. If Ruthie's father chose one of the downstairs couches then all
> this was for nothing. I was betting he'd want to rest in his room.
> Pretty soon I could tell they were coming upstairs. I closed the
> closet door to a tiny crack and cursed as the damned thing squeaked.
> Should I close it all the way? But I had to see!
> The door from the hall was hidden from me, but I heard Ruthie
> fussing at him for not leaning on her and for going too fast.
> "Leave me alone, princess," his voice was now in the room. "I'm
> not a crippled old man, just a bit tired." Then I could see him and part
> of her. He was easing down to the bed and sat on the edge. "Ruthie, how
> about helping me with this shirt?" She unbuttoned it and slipped it off
> his shoulders. His bare back was my next view.
> "Let's get your pants off, Daddy," Ruthie said as he lay back. I
> heard him chuckle.
> "Never could stay out of them, could you, princess?"
> Ruthie snickered. "If you weren't in such a mess I'd pull them
> up over your head." But I could see that she handled him gently.
> Finally he lay on the bed and let out a deep breath.
> "Whew, princess. That's some better now." He lay there in his
> old-fashioned boxer shorts while Ruthie pulled the dress over her head
> and threw it out of my range of vision. Five more seconds and she was
> naked. There she finally was, in person with her father and the truth of
> what they had been doing for ten years came to me. This was the girl who
> had born her father's child to get rid of her mother.
> A tidal wave of depression rolled over me. What action of mine
> could possibly break this bond?
> Ruthie was down on the bed. As I watched, she eased her father's
> shorts off and removed his socks. Now father and daughter were naked
> together in the bed where I could never be. I was both fascinated and
> repelled. The old man's dick was growing. Ruthie started singing a song
> to him, so softly that I couldn't make it out. Then she took her
> father's dick in her hand and begin to rub up and down its length. It
> wasn't long before he was hard. And so, I am ashamed to admit, was I.
> Ruthie crawled up on the bed. "Be still, Daddy," she whispered.
> "I'll do everything." She straddled his hips and lowered herself.
> Aroused and shocked, I watched her slip him into her all the way. She
> sat there playing with the hair on his chest.
> He suddenly laughed and looked up at her. Then he spoke. "Taking
> advantage of a helpless old man, huh? What's the matter, Princess, isn't
> Jack keeping you satisfied?"
> I was had been leaning against the doorjamb and learned at that
> moment the meaning of a `heart leaping up into one's throat.' I damn
> near fell forward out of the closet and into the room. Adrenalin flowed
> and my cock shrivled in fear.
> Ruthie laughed and tossed her hair back over her shoulders. "I
> already told you, Daddy. He keeps me satisfied all I want. But there's
> always going to be a place here for you." She began to rock slowly
> forward and back, gently fucking him. I wanted to get out of there but
> was frozen. If Ruthie had walked straight to the closet and opened the
> door, I don't think I could have moved an inch.
> "Have it your way, Princess," he said. "You feel mighty good to
> an old man. So...how is it with the young lovers?"
> Then as she fucked her father, Ruthie began to tell him about
> us. She recited all we had done since he had been in the accident. I was
> beyond understanding what was going on. Ruthie gently fucked her father
> and talked about me as she had so often made love to me and talked about
> him.
> She recounted what had happened this morning with us.
> "He was crying out in his sleep for his daughter to suck him,
> Daddy," she was saying, "he wasn't faking, he was really asleep. Maybe
> he was dreaming that he was you." The old man was slow to respond.
> Finally: "Well, Princess have you changed your mind?"
> "No, Daddy. He's the one. I'm sure he is. Daddy, I love Jack.
> And I think he loves me. I've told him everything. He's had plenty of
> chance to walk away and he doesn't. I think it will work."
> "Ruthie, honey, remember he's only the second young man you've
> known. You want to be sure. Princess, you want to be really sure. If he
> has accepted the truth then he's either as perverted as we are or he
> really loves you. But you have to be sure, honey. You don't want a
> marriage like mine to your mother, Ruthie. You want someone to love."
> Ruthie's voice rose. "We aren't perverted, Daddy. I love you and
> I won't ever quit loving you, but I love Jack, too. I haven't left out
> anything about us, Daddy, honest I haven't. He never lectures me or says
> anything bad about you. I've told him everything. Daddy, I know he's the
> one. I feel it. Jack Williams is the man I want to marry."
> Well, another cliche is in order here. Sorry, folks, but you
> really could have knocked me over with a feather when she let that one
> out. There she was tossing her hair around as she sat on her own
> father's cock. And she was telling him that she wanted to marry me. The
> conversation lagged for a minute.
> I was even peeking through the door now I was so much into my
> own thoughts. But when I looked back I could see why they weren't
> talking. The love-making was getting heavy and she was close to her
> climax. His hand was between her legs now and I guess he was putting his
> finger on her clitoris as I had sometimes done. Her head was thrown back
> and she was breathing loud and she was going faster and faster. I
> couldn't see it all but I knew she was close. Then she was screaming,
> "I'm coming, Daddy, oh, come too, Daddy, come in me Daddy," and she
> threw her body over his and was hugging him to her. She screamed again
> and I knew what her pussy was doing. It was sucking on her father's dick
> as it had sucked on mine. Then he was coming, too. I could tell because
> he was moaning and pushing back. I was watching Ruthie's father shooting
> himself inside his daughter, the woman I loved.
> Yes, in spite of it all, she was still the woman I loved. My
> dick was rock hard and I wanted to pull it out but I didn't dare. I just
> stood there as father and daughter came together. It should had been
> lewd, it should have made me want to throw up, but it didn't. Their love
> for each other was so palpable I could feel its reality.
> Crying, softly, I eased the door shut and went into the
> storeroom. No need to use the window. I walked down the stairs, out the
> back door and somehow found my car.
> I didn't go straight home. It was only eleven-thirty in the
> morning and there wasn't enough bourbon in the house for what I needed
> to do. There might not be enough in the entire state of Kentucky, but I
> settled for a half-gallon of Wild Turkey and went home.
> I couldn't think, I couldn't focus: my mind was too busy
> protecting me to allow time for thought. I added water to my first drink
> and noticed how badly my hands were shaking. I needed to think but I
> couldn't think. Whatever the hell was going on here I had no idea at
> all. I had wanted to witness them only to further my own cause. But what
> I had seen was so far beyond what I had expected that I just couldn't
> integrate it. Four drinks later I stopped shaking. Now sufficiently
> numbed, I began to asses the situation.
> Obviously -- Well, assuming I hadn't just watched a play put on
> for my benefit, and I doubted that -- obviously Ruthie had been as
> honest with her father about me as she had been with with me about him.
> It was beyond anything I could have dreamed. But did I feel a tiny bit
> proud of her for it? I didn't know yet.
> She sat in the bed with her father's dick buried to the hilt in
> the pussy I had sucked with love and told him that she loved me. Even as
> she fucked her own father she told him she wanted to marry me. It was
> too much. I made another drink, no water this time, just bourbon.
> This was a crazy girl, I told myself. That's no figure of
> speech. I mean to say that Ruthie was crazy. She had to be. Incest does
> that to you, I told myself, and fixed yet another drink. This girl would
> do anything to get what she wanted.
> But what had she really done? She had been completely honest
> with me about her father. and now I knew that she had been completely
> honest with him about me. He, not she, had said that I was only her
> second lover besides himelf. But he had been making it with his own
> daughter for ten years. I needed another drink; screw the water - I'll
> just keep the bottle, it's easier. How could she love him and do what
> she did with me? Hell, how could she love me and still keep on with him
> even when he was too sick to do anything but lie on the bed while she
> attacked him? I took a long swig.
> She was just a nympho. Needed it all the time. No, that's not
> true, she'd had no lovers but her Daddy and me, except for Robert.
> She was on a power trip needing to control her men. No, that was
> bullshit, too. She had never done that except to get rid of her mother.
> I threw back my head and laughed at what Ruthie had done to her mother.
> It was all so ridiculous that I could no longer think. The last
> thing I remember before passing out was wanting some food in my stomach.
> It was past lunch time and I was hungry. I think that I was laughing
> hysterically as I passed out in my chair.
> My head was knocking, pounding. Somebody was beating on it with
> a baseball bat. It was starting to bleed, I was being beaten to death. I
> almost jumped from the chair and I looked around, completely dazed.
> Someone was assaulting the knocker on the front door. I looked at my
> watch. It was seven thirty. I almost didn't go, I really didn't. I felt
> like my head was being tossed around inside a cement mixer.
> Mechanically, I made my way the few steps to the door and opened it,
> prepared to yell an obscenity at the salesman who had disturbed my
> drunken sleep. I peered out through the screen and saw a light blue
> dress, strands of blonde hair, a face I had trouble focusing on.
> "Jack, honey," I heard pounding into my brain like jolts of
> lightening. "Wow, Jack, what's the matter with you?"
> "Oh," I muttered as I let her in the door. "I just had a few
> drinks after work." She looked around and saw the bottle. I looked, too,
> and saw it was well over half gone.
> "All right, Jack," she said. "You go get a in a hot tub and I'll
> fix you something to eat." The thought of food was beyond me just then.
> She looked at my face and must have read my thoughts. "Well," she
> continued, "maybe the food can wait. C'mon Jack, let's go get a shower."
> I felt so bad that at first I didn't realize she was coming into
> the shower with me. She started the water as I stood there. As she was
> adjusting the flow she said quietly, "A good old toothbrushing might not
> hurt either, you know." The toothpaste tasted bitter but made me feel
> better. Then Ruthie started taking off my clothes. When she had finished
> with me, she quickly slipped off hers, too. "Well?" she teased.
> The water cleansed me in more ways than one. I get drunk about
> once a year, and never as I had that afternoon. I felt trashy dirty and
> the water helped. Ruthie and her bathcloth and her tongue helped, too.
> She worked on my back for long minutes, pulling the tension from my body
> and even a little of the pain from my head. Then she pulled my back
> against her front so I could feel her body against me. She began to soap
> my chest while she licked at my back. I couldn't even get hard because
> while it was certainly erotic, it was more relaxing than exciting and it
> was what I needed. I was a sick man and Ruthie was my nurse, helping me
> back to life. It was a slow and painful return but after all, I had
> brought it on myself.
> Finally her hands dropped and she started to feel my dick. She
> put the soapy cloth around it and gently played until I got hard. Now at
> least half-alive again I turned to her. Water glistened her breasts. Her
> hair was plastered to her head but she was as beautiful as ever.
> I gently pulled her mouth to mine. We must have kissed for five
> minutes or more with our arms around each other. Then slowly we began to
> explore each other's bodies. It was good. I might not have been able to
> think straight but I could feel. After a long time, Ruthie knelt down
> and took me in her mouth. I closed my eyes and felt the love she was
> giving me. I wanted to freeze time, to stop our lives forever at that
> moment. I wouldn't have to think anymore and I could just feel. It was
> unlike any oral sex I'd ever had. I didn't want to come, I just wanted
> it to continue. Ruthie didn't seem to be trying to make me come. It was
> an almost nonsexual act, just a love act. I lost track of time and
> floated, enjoying the love emanating from her. It was at the same time
> the best sex I ever had and also not sexual at all. There was no
> pressure, no attempt to make it better, no drive to climax. It was just
> what it was, Ruthie's expression of love for me -- and one of the most
> satisfying times of my whole life.
> I don't know how long it might have continued, but I have an old
> water heater and little by little the water grew colder. Temperature
> finally broke the mood and the feeling faded. What a loss. She started
> laughing with my dick still in her mouth and finally stood up.
> "I think," she said slowly, "that we better get out." I was
> starting to shiver and I closed the faucets. We dried ourselves, each
> with our own towel. Then I took her hand and wordlessly led her into the
> bedroom. We lay side by side for a while, not touching, just looking at
> each other. When the kissing and the touching began it was definitely
> sexual. Desire overshadowed my headache and soon we were thrashing
> around the bed like a couple of kids. When I finally entered her it was
> like coming home after a long trip to somewhere I hadn't wanted to go.
> It was our best sex ever, our own private trip into love and when it was
> over I felt empty and sad.
> Empty because I had given more to Ruthie that night than I ever
> had to anyone in my life. Sad because I finally began to consider the
> day's events. Ruthie curled up on my arm and nestled against me. I
> didn't know I was going to say it until I had already said it. It was
> like it wasn't me talking. I said to Ruthie, "I want to marry you."
> "I want to marry you, too." The answer was lazy and seemed to
> come from a long way off. It took me a minute to recognize that I had
> asked her and she had answered me. Then I was awake, alert, and my body
> tensed. She felt it. She started rubbing mt chest trying to relax me I
> think. I was silent but she spoke again. "Yes, Jack, I want to marry
> you." I abruptly sat up, breaking the spell.
> "Ruthie, what are you talking about?"
> She stretched like a cat and smiled, her head on the pillow
> beside me, her face framed by beautiful hair which was in ruins but was
> still erotic. Then she giggled.
> "Well, you just screwed up, didn't you, lover? You just proposed
> to me and I just said yes to you."
> The adrenalin hit me for the second time that day. "But what
> about your father?" I was hurt and distrustful, I had heard what they
> had said that morning. "Jack, he's known about us from the first night.
> He knows everything about you. Just as you know everything about us. You
> see, Jack, if it was going to work, both you and he had to know."
> I was dumbfounded. "But," I stuttered. "Why did you act like we
> couldn't let him find out about us?"
> She smiled up at me from the pillow. "Would you have kept seeing
> me if you'd known I was giving him a play-by-play account about us? I
> had to tell you about my father, Jack. It was too much a part of my life
> to hide. I had to know if you could accept it. But I had to share it
> with my Daddy, too, honey. I knew what you didn't know soon after we
> met. I knew that someday you might ask me. And I knew that if you ever
> did, that I'd say `yes.' You're the only honest man I've ever known
> besides my father. I'll marry you tomorrow if you want."
> I was silent. I tried a quick review of what I was about to do,
> but with the angel beside me in my bed, the girl I loved, the girl I
> wanted to marry, what review was necessary? Finally she broke the
> silence. Her wonderful eyes bored into mine.
> "Want to retract the proposal? One chance, Jack. Right now."
> I didn't hesitate; it wasn't necessary. "We just signed a
> contract, dear beautiful Ruthie," I whispered. "You can't get out of
> it."
> Oh, how good our embrace felt. She was real, a warm living
> person who would love me and have my children and grow old with me. Two
> "moments of a lifetime" in one night are too much for one person but
> I'll never forget our embrace in my bed that night. Finally she giggled.
> "Want to go meet my Daddy, now, Jack? He's waiting for us."
>
> Well folks, that's it. Ruthie and Jack were married four days
> later. Jack moved into the old mansion. A most improbable marriage began
> to grow and as of that date it is still growing. I have enjoyed sharing
> it with you. Let's wrap up with a few facts.
> I told you up front that this happened to a friend of mine. It
> did. It happened to my very best friend. It happened to my wife. Ruthie
> is my wife. You probably guessed that by now. It really was me all the
> time.
> I told you it was true. I have spoken as much of the truth as I
> can remember. I have told you no lies. Ruthie and I are what I have said
> we are. How can I write pornography about my own wife? I'll just say you
> would have to know us to understand.
> Why did I write it? I'm not really sure. I've asked myself the
> same question. Obviously Ruthie and I are both highly sexual people. She
> knows I'm writing this but hasn't yet asked to read it. Maybe one day
> she will. I'm glad to share it because it is a love story. But since I
> became involved with Ruthie, stories of incest and experiences of young
> girls turn me on. They really didn't before Ruthie, but they do now.
> Very often we pretend she is a young virgin. It gets us both off. Just
> as I love to look through Ruthie's baby book, I think someday soon she
> will ask to read this. As soon as I send it up to the board I plan to
> find her and tell her it's finished. She may even ask to read it
> tonight. She may read it before you do. Even as you read this, we may be
> making love while she reflects on what I have written about us.
> Does she still make it with her father? I think she probably
> does. The opportunity is there. I can't ask you to understand this or
> accept it, but I don't care. If I had to guess, I would guess they
> probably do on occasions. It doesn't concern me and I don't ask.
> Ruthie is -- as I write this final chapter on July 31, 1989 --
> three months pregnant. She's 29 now. We have a two-year-old girl and a
> baby son, eleven months. The boy is dark like like me, but the girl is
> very fair. I wonder about her origins, but she is my daughter, no matter
> who the father is and I love her very much. She is a beautiful little
> girl. Already starting to look a little bit like her mother.
> What is the relationship between Ruthie's father and me?
> Strained, I guess I have to say. He is as friendly as anyone could ask,
> I just don't feel totally comfortable with him. It's getting better.
> Except for the socially "horrible" things he did with his daughter, he
> seems a well-adjusted man. That facet of my life will improve and I
> expect he will continue to live with us for the rest of his life.
> How goes the marriage? It gets better every day. Ruthie is an
> incredibly gifted lover; I sense that her enthusiasm is a result of her
> love for me. That love is returned without reservation. It may be one of
> the strangest marriages on record, but I bet it's better than most.
> One last comment before we leave each other. Just the facts,
> folks, that's all. And am I really telling the truth? Really?
> Obviously our names aren't Jack and Ruthie Williams. One last
> time before I go... Everything here is true. All of it. I hope your
> marriage is half as good as mine. If it is, hold onto it. Love is a
> precious thing no matter what manner of expression it takes or from what
> origins it arises. Thanks for listening.
>
> Jack
dam you nikki, you made me cry, oh how i wish i could write like this.