Love Restored to Life

It didn't take long; in fact it was sooner than I expected that Ruth had her first orgasm. Her legs were over my shoulders, her hands behind my head clutching me to her. It was oddly reminiscent of Clare who, as her orgasm approached cried out in protest.

Above me I could hear Ruth's anguished cries, "No...no...I won't...don't make me...I don't want it's agony...stop...stop..."

And then the counter cries as her love juice poured out of her, "Yes...oh yes darling...Oh...oh...yes...ah...ohwaaa...aaah..."

I waited until I thought she had finished and began to remove myself from her but she clutched me to her crying out, "Don't stop...don't stop..."

It was then I discovered that Ruth was one of those women who can have multiple orgasms in quick succession. She came five times and on the last she had that rare phenomenon, the female ejaculation. She sprayed my face with her fluid.

After that I thought she would relax. I stood up and she got off the table and dropped to her knees in front of me almost tearing down the zip of my flies. She seized my penis in her hand and began to massage it while at the same time she took its head into her mouth, sucking and licking avidly.

I was right on the edge and I cried out, "I'm coming...I'm coming."

"No...no..." she gasped, and sitting on the table again she opened her legs and bending them at the knees she pointed to her genitals and said,"Here, I want it in here."

I stood in front of her and penetrated her, feeling the gripping and sucking sensation of that muscular tunnel. In no more than thirty seconds I was spurting my semen into her, filling her, and to my amazement she had another orgasm.

Then there was that wonderful calm that follows sexual union that has been born of love.

Ruth was drooping over me and murmuring, "Peter...oh Peter...it's so exquisite with you."

"I love you Ruth," I said.

* * * * * * * *

The outside world crept insidiously upon this scene of passionate love. On the wall behind Ruth I would see the kitchen clock; it was five minute past nine.

"My God, I've got a ten o'clock tutorial to take," I said.

Ruth gasped something about a children's' charity meeting she had to chair and then there was a mad rush to shower away the olfactory evidence of our activities, dress and for me to hurtle in the direction of the university and the eagerly (I hoped) waiting students. I had a lecture to give at three o'clock and so it was not until after five o'clock I returned home.

It was odd how even the mundane details of our newly established relationship seemed delightful: whose house would we live in, hers of mine? When would we make the move and who would stay were in the meantime? If my house or her house which bedroom would we use, and should we buy a new bed?" Ruth even began to somewhat prematurely plan a room for the baby.

For the time being Ruth stayed on at my place but in the end we decided to sell both houses and buy a new one. The there was the question of what to do with the surplus furniture Much of that was also sold and new purchased apart from a few pieces that held valuable memories for us.

One piece I kept was Edward Poynter's painting of "Andromeda on the Rocks." I thought Ruth might object since it had hung in the bedroom I had shared with Clare, but she made no opposition, only saying, "It's very sexy." It hangs in our bedroom now.

Ruth gave birth to a daughter and I've always insisted it was that first sexual encounter in the kitchen that had set things in motion, but Ruth claims it was the night that followed when I came into her four times.

There was some debate about whether or not we should call our daughter Clare, but we finally settled for Nastasia.

Ruth is currently pregnant again. She says this will be the last one because it might be too dangerous for her to have another. I have heard it said that once women decide they don't want any more babies they go off sex. I'm hoping this doesn't happen with Ruth, but given her enthusiastic -- not to say insatiable -- desire for sex, I think everything will be okay.

The trouble with her is that the more I have of her the more I want her. A bit like they said of Cleopatra.