Ch. 08 to 09

Apologies for the delay in getting this second part published. Inadvertent contextual inclusion of Ruth's reminiscences about her youth and a brief reference within Ruth's family saga ran afoul of Literotica's guidelines concerning any sexual connotation for those under 18 years. After quite happily correcting the first rejection, their software surprisingly came up with a second objection, which I dealt with. The original submission went twice into edit mode. Hence the delay. My bad. If you are reading this, I have taken care of business to everyone's satisfaction.

This follow-on from Satisfaction Part 1. Chs. 1-7 puts Glen in contact with Ruth and her story. You'll get a context to this part by reading Part 1 first. Enjoy.

All my caveats expressed at the start of Part 1 continue to apply this part.

Chapter 8

Ruth

Glen did not wait a month. In fact, after mulling the prospect overnight and spending time rereading all the stories, he called Wendy. The conversation was brief.

"Wendy. I'm in."

"Excellent. I think Ruth will be first. You'll get a call from her to make arrangements. Must rush now. Really busy. Good luck."

In under an hour, he received a call from Ruth. They set up a get-together for the following day. Ruth made it clear her husband was away in Canada fishing.

Glen already had a good idea which story Ruth wrote.

Ruth greeted Glen at the door. She had her hair cut short and maybe colored a little. She was dressed in a striped, blue summer dress with buttons up the front. With her diminutive size, animated face, arm gestures and warm smile that fully engaged her sparkling eyes she looked like a fun pixy.

"Come in. Coffee. Fresh brewed."

"Love one. Mug for preference."

They sat at the island in the modern kitchen. Ruth waved at the room. "Like it? We had it renovated earlier this year."

"Looks great."

They talked about the whole building process for a while. Neither Glen and Ruth knew where to start on the reason for their get together.

Glen wondered out loud. "I think it was Wendy who said that you keep the church beautiful. What did she mean by that?"

"I do the flowers for the church. I also do the paid events."

"Congratulations. Maybe we should get on with business." Glen bit the bullet. "The rules said I get five questions. Right?" Ruth grinned and nodded. "What are your daughter's names and what do they do?"

"That's two questions."

"Give me a break. I'm new at this." Glen grinned as he joshed back to Ruth.

"OK. Amelia and Frankie. Both went to university. Amy for modern languages and Fran, bless her heart, did an MBA. They're both at home looking after the babies or running the business."

"Business?"

"Yes. We have a chain of six florist stores. I took over one from my aunt and then expanded. Fran took my original three and has expanded in the next state to six. Fran's a go-getter."

Glen had brief wave of anxiety that they would be joined by one of Ruth's daughters. "Wow! She sounds a bit like her mom. Are they likely to drop by?"

"I'm just too kind. I won't count that as a question either. The answer is no. Both are at least two hours away, and we don't drop in on each other. Satisfied?"

"Next. Your husband what does he do?"

"Retired. He's sixty-five years. He was a salesman. Traveled a lot."

"Does he go to Canada often?"

"We all used to go to Canada every year as the kids grew up and since too. We have a load of Canadian friends. Nice people."

Glen thought 'Bingo'.

Glen noticed she embellished her answers. "I am really curious about your comments at the meeting. How old were you when you lost your virginity? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

Ruth frowned for a moment as she thought, "No, I don't think I'll answer that. Suffice it to say I was a rather naughty teenager. It all came to a dramatic end when I was expelled from school at sixteen, after some warnings. I'll spare you the details. My parents were devastated and ashamed. They were also very deeply disappointed because I was academically in the top three of my year. Need to probe further?"

Glen could not stay silent. "No. I respect your privacy. You must have been quite the gal."

"My parents sent me to my aunt Joan in town here. Two counties away from home. Joan's boyfriend was killed in the Korean war. She never married. I liked her and she liked me, but she was strict. She laid out brutal ground rules when I first arrived including a strict curfew. Later, over the years, she relaxed them. I apprenticed to her in her florist shop. That gave me the skills to start my business."

Ruth paused to sip her coffee. She had a faraway look as she remembered her early days. She took a deep breath before continuing.

"Everything changed about two years after I moved in with Joan. I was eighteen and much more mature. New neighbors arrived next door. They had a son called Billy-Joe. He was beautiful. I came to first know him as a friend. He did not notice my flirting. He was straight up and kind. I came to love him. The lust was still there but I somehow did not want to hurt him with it. Can you understand that?"

Glen thought for a moment. "I guess I can, in a way."

"His friendship and growing love for me helped straighten me out further. We married shortly after I turned nineteen. I fucked him for the first time on our honeymoon."

Glen had his mouth open at Ruth's openness and all he could come up with was, "That's comprehensive."

"To complete my sexual odyssey, I've had three lovers whilst married. BJ -- that's what I call Billy-Joe. He travelled a lot and I built up needs. Looking back on it I was thirty-one, forty-one and fifty-one when I took lovers. About due for my sixty-one lover. BJ was not innocent. He may have spawned a few kids scattered around he doesn't know about. After I had the two girls my thirties lover gave me an infection and I became sterile. No more kids." Ruth paused. " Shocked?"

"Surprised at your sharing. But no judgment."

"Good. I have a request for you. I'd like to fuck you. That sound too crude? Can I say, will you be my sixty-oneth? That Shade book gave me the thought that I've never bound up a fella and had him at my mercy. Like to volunteer for that? I promise no pain, but possibly unbearable pleasure. Also, if we fuck with you on top, you'll likely crush me. I want control."

Ruth was direct and full of surprises. "What do you have in mind?"

"The master bedroom and silk scarfs. I'll blindfold you so you don't have to look at my sags and creases, although to be honest I've aged pretty well. Game to try me? You'll never get anyone more experienced who is not a professional."

By now Glen could see how this would develop. As Ruth spoke, he became less uncomfortable than he could have imagined even a week earlier with the very foreign idea of being propositioned by a sixtyish married woman. "Lead on."

Once in the bedroom Glen stripped down to his boxers to the accompaniment of appreciative comments from Ruth.

Ruth's eyes shone, "Nice abs. Great pecs."

He flopped on the bed. Before he knew it, his hands were secured to the headboard of the marital bed in the master bedroom. Ruth slipped off his boxers before she tied his ankles loosely to each of the lower corners, so he had some room for movement of his parted legs. Ruth was still dressed when she blindfolded Glen with a dense black piece of material. All he could hear was a rustling of Ruth's clothes as she removed them. He was by now semi-aroused simply from the situation he had put himself in.

The first sensation Glen registered was a light fingertip touch by his wrist that traveled down the inside of his arm towards his armpit. He was immediately uncomfortable because he was ticklish under his arms. Would Ruth test this? He hoped not. The attack changed. Kisses were planted on his neck and a tongue reached into his ear.

The kissing moved to his mouth. She seemed to read and anticipate everything he liked in a kiss. The pressure, the nips, the journey of the tongue eventually exploring his teeth and dueling with his own tongue. This part of Ruth's campaign seemed to him to go on forever, gaining passion as every minute passed. He felt himself hardening under the velvet assault.

The kisses eventually moved onto and under his chin as they traveled down his body. Ruth added the dimension of playing with his nipples. She now hummed as her kisses traced the six-pack and continued down to his pubic hair. Her mouth now became an open O as it corralled his almost-erect cock. He felt the warm tongue as she started her assault on his sensitized penis. She held the root firmly and started bobbing. As he felt himself almost ready to cum, she squeezed the base and backed down. She repeated her actions a dozen times or more as he was brought to the edge of the orgasmic precipice. Each time was more intense but just not quite there. Each time he was higher up the mountain. He now was using the small freedom he had with legs and lower body to try to push himself over. Ruth played him. He writhed until she took mercy on him and he erupted in a way he could not remember ever doing before.

He could not see Ruth gather the jism and spread it over her breasts and use its lubrication to play with her nipples teasing them into hard cones of pleasure. She only took five strokes with her slippery fingers on her clit to cum in a way she had almost forgotten.

Now she was ready for the main event. Glen to his credit, and surprise, had hardly softened. Ruth straddled Glen's hips and lowered her pussy on his cock. He felt the silky vagina envelop his member. Ruth's body was still youthful. She moaned with pleasure and became stationary. Almost immediately he could feel the pulsing of her first orgasm. She moved slowly at first and continued with quickening tempo as she raced to a full-on, body-wracking orgasm. She took Glen along with her and he simultaneously sent a second package of fresh warm sperm deep into Ruth. She held rigid for a long time until the churning inside her quietened down. Ruth then collapsed down on his chest with him still within the comfort of her pussy.

After about five minutes his cock popped out of her and she moved off him.

"I'm going to let you go now. Can you manage one more time?" She untied his arms and legs.

"Let me work on that."

Her mouth worked its magic. It took ten minutes, but Glen was ready.

"A titty-fuck? For old times' sake. BJ never did it and he can't now."

For the first time he saw Ruth naked. She was in great shape. Better than he had thought. Her tits were still full and had only a small amount of sag.

"Go for it, tiger."

Glen found a way not to put much weight on Ruth and with some lube she handed him found he had a velvet valley to play in as Ruth pushed her tits together. He rode her for a good twenty minutes before he came once more, although weakly this time. During that time, he counted Ruth have at least two surprising orgasms. He never knew women could climax from titty-fucks. They disengaged and collapsed on their backs on the bed.

"Glen. I will thank you to the end of my days."

He sealed the deal by leaning over her and kissing her on the lips with both their eyes open.

Coming down from one of the most sensual experiences he had ever had Glen felt concerned for the older woman's physical well-being. "Will you be all right? That was strenuous for me."

"Oh baby. You've no idea. I've not felt this good for decades." They showered separately, dressed and returned to the kitchen for another coffee.

"Helga and Hans."

"What?"

"Your story. You write well. Must have taken you a long time to write. The story is very long. Interesting plot too."

"The plot was mine. As the story says, it's more of a family saga. Family sagas are long. The editing and proofing were Amy's. The daughter who studied languages. How did you guess?"

Glen was pleased that he'd nailed the first story. "The grandchildren. The Canada connection. The older couple looking back on their lives. The sexiness. Amy was comfortable editing your piece?"

"Thank you, kind sir. For everything. Amy is a chip off my block. She's constantly horny and would do you in an instant, given the chance. As for the book club, will you fuck them all? I'm curious."

"I have no idea. That's not what it's about. But if the opportunity arises I will."

"Good man. They all deserve you. Including Wendy."

"Wendy?"

"Something's not quite right with her marriage."

"OK. I'll keep that in mind. I think I should go. I'll forward your story back to you."

"Don't bother. Keep it to remember me by. Amy has it on her computer. By the way, I'll let Wendy know you guessed right. Perhaps we'll keep the rest to ourselves."

They made their way to the front door. Ruth put her arms around Glen and reached up on her tiptoes. She kissed him on the lips.

"Maybe we can have a return match sometime," she said. "Perhaps with Amy joining us. Would that make you consider it? She's a good-looking mom."

"We'll see. Bye."

Chapter 9

Ruth's story

Helga and Hans

The afternoon sun shone through the west window in the living room. The elderly couple refreshed by their afternoon snooze and gently enjoyed their customary four o'clock tea and cookies. Their regular routine had reestablished itself following the disruptions of their seventieth birthday celebrations.

"Celia told me at the party that they had chosen names for their child." She was referring to their first great-granchild.

"Really? Already? She's, what, only six months pregnant. Is it going to be a boy or girl?"

"They don't know. They don't want to know so they have chosen one of each."

"I thought all youngsters these days needed to know what color to not paint the nursery. What names did they come up with? Not ours I hope."

"No. They are not that stupid. But you'll be surprised. Shocked even. I was."

"So, tell me."

She paused and took a drink from her decorated porcelain cup. "Helga and Hans."

He exploded. "What? Oh, that's so weird."

She repeated. "Yes. Helga and Hans. I wasn't sure whether I should tell you."

"Do they know?"

"Of course not. How could they? Of course, there may have been the odd reference to those names floating around, but there's no way they could know."

"Coincidence then? A long shot, but possible I suppose."

They both fell into silence. They both sank deep into the matrix of their memories to reconstruct barely suppressed emotions the names brought forward. The pivotal influence of both Helga and Hans had on their lives.

Later that evening Jack sat down to write. He showed it to Jill when he finished.

Jill added her own comments. It turned out to be their saga.

"When I started this out, I planned that just our relationship with Helga and Hans would be explained and recorded to cleanse any touches of guilt I felt and correct any other record out there that may exist. As you have seen I strayed from my original intention. As I write this, I am afraid Jill may throw me under the bus for some revelations that will be news to her. I hope she can forgive me. I am going to forward it to her now."

I've brought this final paragraph of Jack's memoir up front. I'm Jill, Jack's wife for the last forty-eight years. For the sake of clarity, so you can distinguish my words from Jack's, I am writing in italicized type. Reading over the memoir -- and I am trying to come up with a better term, maybe Saga -- I realize how narrow Jack's view on the world is or was.

No, I am not throwing him under the bus, but he may wish to do the throwing after I give my clear description of my sex life that not only included Helga and Hans but, like Jack, had a wider horizon. I will also insert some points of clarification or give context to the events of the time. I will probably correct and edit some of his writings.

Younger readers, if there are any, may think seventy-year-olds do not have or think about sex. You are wrong. I think this journey down memory lane will educate you. Your generation did not invent sex.

I arrived in Kitchener, Ontario, Canada on tenth April 1979, shortly after my thirty-fourth birthday. Kitchener is a small city about two hours west of Toronto. I arrived alone, leaving my wife Jill and our four children in London, England. Jill had to pack up and sell the house and arrange to move a fair amount of our furniture out. Our family, Alan aged twelve, Brenda eleven, Carol nine and David eight, were all born about fifteen months apart, before I had the snip and Jill had her tubes tied.

(Remember this is Jack writing. I add my comments in italics. You'll get the hang of it.)

I am a mechanical engineer specializing in machine tools. As a result of my specialized skills I was raided by a mid-sized Canadian company to set up a skunkworks to establish a new computer-controlled line of machines from scratch. I landed in Canada with a two-year contract, with a five-year renewal option, in my hand. At that time, the compensation was three times my English salary, with good benefits and a pension provision.

I met Jill, who is two days younger than me, at London University where she studied and graduated in Modern Languages -- French and German. She was six months pregnant with Alan and three months married to me when she graduated.

I moved to Kitchener, Ontario, Canada. Initially I rented a house at a very reasonable rent for six months to allow time to find our feet in this new land.

The family arrived at the end of July and had time to settle in before starting school after Labor Day.

Jack gives no clue of how big an enterprise the move was. He was needed in Canada immediately and left me to organize the move, the sale of the house and the transport of the furniture and us. My mother took the children for days on end, and I spent my time sorting things out. I even handed out a blowjob to the moving expediter to ensure the household furniture and all the crockery were crated in time to catch a particular ship out of London. It was that or delay another month. Jack had no idea of my dedication to the job. I was also sexually frustrated with Jack away. As you read on, you'll come to appreciate, if you haven't already from the evidence of four children closely packed together, I have a supercharged libido that needed regular attention.

We quickly found that we were saving at an unprecedented rate for us and having the capital available from the sale of our house in England, we found ourselves in a position to buy our own home. The manager of the company's personnel department alerted us to a five-bedroom home for sale in a three-year-old development with half-acre lots that was taken over by the bank in a foreclosure. We bought it at a knockdown price. We were awe-struck by our good fortune.

I enjoyed the novelty of discovering our new environment. Things came together when we moved to the new, for us, house. But I was emotionally stretched out from all the move entailed. The least thing irritated me, and the family started avoiding me.

Jill was stressed in those early days. We were brought down to earth the end of the first week of school in early September. The school principal, Mr. Johnston, called us in about our thirteen-year-old Alan. He was blunt. Accusingly he told us that the first impressions of Alan were that he showed signs of being almost illiterate based on the first tests, but he was good at math and art. He also acknowledged that Alan had a charming and winning personality that he tried to use to work around his inabilities. Did we know? We were both devastated. After a detailed discussion, Mr. Johnston suggested we get Alan tested and gave us the name of a good child psychologist. That we did. We also had our other three children tested and evaluated as well.