Lucky Man Pt. 01

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I really meant it, Ruth was a lovely girl and I felt she was well worth spending a day with at the very least. Whether I was actually on a sometime promise or not, I really wanted to see her again.

Ruth smiled beautifully once more and squeezed me with her arms round my neck and back.

"Well," she said with a sparkle in her eyes, "we can do a little more than just kiss, you know."

With that she relocated her hands to the front of my waistband, undid my buttons, unzipped the fly and pulled the elastic of my underpants to give adequate access to my crown jewels, before I could possibly react to what was happening. She didn't have to delve about for my manhood, I had been hard for at least half an hour and once released from the confinements of my St Michael's slacks and seam-strained Y-fronts, my little soldier reassuringly stood to attention in Coldstream Guards' parade ground order.

With the sweetest smile on her lips Ruth held eye contact as long as she could as her head slowly descended. She sunk her head down into my lap and gripped the head of my stiffened knob with her hot moist mouth and languidly licked and sucked off my pre-cum which had seeped from the eye-hole, while I looked on this wondrous spectacle completely open-gobbed.

She lifted her head after that single sweet suck and said huskily, "Mmm, you are good enough to eat".

Then she turned her attention to the base of my erection, touched it with the end of her hot wet tongue and licked along its length from base to top before enveloping the tip of my prick in her mouth again before swirling the sensitive tip of her oral organ around the only piece of anatomy my attention was totally focused on at that precise moment. I'm not sure how I even remembered to breathe.

Ruth was clearly expert at sucking a man off. Who woulda thought it? She looked so innocent, she wouldn't have looked out of place in big blue knickers and a gym slip. Perhaps my earlier evaluation that my long run of slappers had come to an end was somewhat premature.

After licking my shaft all the way up Ruthie rolled her tongue around the head of my dick, clamped her lips around tightly and sank halfway down my knob until my bell end grounded on the back of her throat. Then she delightfully sucked and licked all the way to the top of my prick before doing the whole sequence over, again and again. At the same time she was squeezing my bollocks with one hand and stroking my foreskin up and down my shaft with the other, all the time twisting her hand and mouth around my shaft and constantly humming, "Mmm, mmm, mm-mm, Mmmm ..."

It was unbelievable how flattering it is to have a beautiful woman giving you the most possible pleasure you could wish for and yet appear to be deriving as much if not more enjoyment out of the activity herself. I had imagined she was a 'nice girl' and I still thought she was rather nice but a lot naughtier than I had guessed.

I was already highly charged sexually and within an extremely disappointing short space of time I felt near to bursting and, despite several vociferous warnings of my impending explosion, Ruth carried on sucking my knob like there was no tomorrow without taking the usual evasive action.

I should have said "Yes, yes!" when I orgasmed, but I felt so apologetic about my ability to hold on that all I could say was "No! No! Shit! Fuck! Oh fuck."

I fully expected her to swear at me for coming full on in her mouth. Also I assumed that she would quickly move her face out of the way at the first hot spurt and then I would have sprayed everywhere, such as her face, hair and clothes. Instead of enjoying my first orgasm with this girl, I could only groan that this was set to becoming a complete disaster! My fucking luck!

But no, Ruth did not take evasive action, she continued hoovering away at my jerking hose like a trouper, sucking up every drop of sperm that hadn't quite managed to gush untasted directly down her throat. She continued working me with her tongue and milking me with her oscillating hand, swallowing everything I had. Only when Ruth was satisfied that she had sucked me completely dry did she give me a final cheek-dimpling suck and came up smiling, to look me in the eye saying, "Mmm, nice cock!", smacking those delicious rosy lips.

I pulled her face to me and kissed those lovely lips long and deep. I was probably tasting my salty seed as well as her own sweet saliva, but I didn't care. Only one girl had allowed me the luxury of a blow job before, it just didn't seem to be a part of a respectable relationship back in my younger days. The former girlfriend that was actually prepared to suck my dick only did it half a dozen times and never allowed me to come in her mouth; the one time I did was by accident and she spat out my disgusting man-juice and wasn't happy to suck me off again because I hadn't given her adequate warning of my impending conclusion.

Blow jobs hadn't proved that pleasurable to me and so I had never really pressed any other girl to do one since. However, the delectable Ruthie just jumped onto my little head and straight into my big heart.

In conversation a few days later Ruth confided that at her private girls' school one of the teachers had taught them the essential skill of perfect fellatio in sex education classes, practicing on whatever appropriate fruits and vegetables happened to be in season. I had heard of finishing schools for girls before, perhaps this what they meant by "finishing"!

The sex education in my secondary modern school was perfunctory at best, it was usually the youngest member of staff that drew the short straw to limit his embarrassment by showing the standard film and that was that.

Later, but not too much later, I dropped the girls off back in town by the car they were sharing that night, exchanging addresses and phone numbers. Each couple closed the evening with a last lingering ten-minute snog and I arranged to meet up with Ruth on Sunday morning at 10.30 and go for a walk and picnic if the weather continued as nice as it had been. Bob was more interested in playing Sunday morning football and spending lunchtime in a stripper pub, so I think he arranged to meet Carol sometime midweek and take in a movie, a pint, a burger and almost certainly a bonk before bedtime.

I was expected to train for football on Wednesdays but wasn't due to play my next match until Saturday. I occasionally turned out on Sundays if the team were desperate. They would have to do without me in the morning.

Chapter 2. Picnic

In the wee small hours I checked the food situation back in my room at my digs. In my one room, basically a bed sitter, with only a tiny kitchen galley area along one wall opposite the window. This consisted of a short work surface, a kettle, a toaster and a small electric Belling oven/grill with single hob above. The sink was on the side wall. In the cupboard under the work surface I had a few tins plus a tiny fridge mostly filled with beer and a few cokes. A cupboard over the work surface held packets of cereal, pasta and rice and roughly half a loaf of white bread which, in the hot weather, had gone more than slightly blue. I binned it.

I made an inventory of what I had and needed. I found a few scraps of cheese and ham which both still smelt edible, I had a nearly-new jar of Branston pickle, a pack of bacon which I had bought for Sunday breakfast and a few eggs. The butter was kept in the fridge and rock hard, so I got it out to soften by the morning. I made a list of things I needed to get from the Indian corner shop which I knew would be open by about eight: bread definitely, lettuce, cucumber, tomatoes, perhaps some cake or chocolate, I know all girls love chocolate! In those days, I was paid in cash on a Friday, I budgeted my weekly outgoings with notes and coins divvied out in empty coffee jars. It was looking like about half the cash to keep me in groceries for the week might be used up by Sunday.

As an afterthought I filled up a couple of ice cube trays and popped them into the freezer compartment of the fridge. Then I set my alarm for 7.30. It was late by the time I got to bed but I still lay awake thinking about this girl I had just met and looked forward to seeing again. That was something I never normally do, unless in need of relief before sleep. I definitely didn't need that tonight. I dropped off hoping that I would remember what she looked like in the cold light of day.

And before you ask, yes I've done that, just the once; it was very embarrassing.

So there I was in the pub car park in rural Oxfordshire where we had agreed to meet. I arrived half an hour early and parked in the far corner by the wall where there were overhanging trees from the next door garden that would provide shade to keep the car cool during the hot afternoon. There were a couple of other cars scattered about the car park, which I checked out just in case Ruth was inside but they were all unoccupied, presumably left by over-indulgers the previous night.

It was a glorious late July morning, clear blue sky overhead and the heat already rising from the tarmac, holding the promise of a brilliant day. I sat on the warm wing of my beat-up old car and read the sports pages of the popular Sunday paper I had brought with me from the corner shop, ticking off the dragging minutes until my date arrived to put me out of my misery.

At twenty-five to eleven I had just about determined I had been stood up and pondering whether to head back home to my dreary digs with my tail between my legs or have a brisk walk around the hill and woods on my lonesome anyway and return to the car by noon, when the pub opened, to drown my sorrows.

Then a shiny yellow open-topped Alfa Romeo Spider sports car entered the car park and with a throaty roar drew up to park next to my wretched old banger. Ruth greeted me with a cheery wave and that flashing smile of hers that I had been looking forward to seeing all morning.

"Morning, Mark, you look fresh this morning!" she said cheerfully.

"It's a good morning to you, too," I said, unable to wipe the relieved smile from my face. I reached over the driver's door and kissed her lips, her face cold from the drive, bringing a rosy flush to her cool cheeks. "You are a sight for sore eyes," I said, "can I say, Ruth, that you look absolutely stunning this morning?"

She grinned and returned my kiss with both arms around my neck. "You can," she said "and one of these days you are going to be rewarded for being so gentlemanly."

Boy, I felt six feet tall and was forced to lean on her lovely car to hide my rebellious lazy boner.

"Sorry, I'm late, Mummy insisted on checking over everything she packed for the picnic." She grinned and continued "I checked and wrote the route down from one of Daddy's maps last night before I went to bed. I suppose you get all the girls to meet you here, huh?"

"That's right," I smiled, "so far all but you have got lost, I have this private arrangement with the AA, it's my main source of income. After we stayed out so long last night I expected you to be fashionably late, anyway."

Ruth poked her tongue out, "Anyway, I am almost never late, not intentionally. I like punctuality, I've been looking forward to today all night."

I moved away from her door to allow her easy egress, then took in the sight of her glorious car close up. I whistled and added "Nice ride, Ruth by the way. It is a beautiful classy motor, so it suits you to a tee."

The Spider was only a year or so old, immaculate and its wax coat and chrome plate gleamed impressively in the morning sunlight. It made my dull, unwashed and grubby two-tone grey and green 14-year-old Hillman Minx rust bucket look the near-total wreck it was, parked next to her lovely sports car.

Ruth got out of her car and I whistled again.

"Wow!" I said, "You look better than your car, and you know already that I love your car!"

She blushed crimson, but looked very pleased. She had worn a scarf over her head to protect her hair in the open-topped car and as she stood up she tore it off and shook her head to loosen up her locks, which were as blond as I remembered. Another silk scarf was tied around her neck, and she had on a pair of polarized sunglasses to protect her eyes from the sun's glare. Ruth's torso was smartly clad in a thin cream blouse under a light green cardigan. Her lower half boasted a figure-hugging pair of fawn-coloured shorts which reached halfway down her shapely tanned thighs. She finished off the ensemble with rolled down white ankle socks and sensible walking boots.

Ruth looked cool, fresh and neat, her clothes perfectly complimenting her curves. She untied her neckscarf and replaced her tinted sunglasses on the top of her head and examined me in my turn at last. Unfortunately, Sunday was usually my launderette day, so my turnout was a lot more than marginally less spruce than my date. I wore a pair of light-coloured slacks, not sure of the colour as I had bought three or four at the same time not long before. If they were relatively clean I would probably have opted for the light blue pair, which were my favourite, with a tight white v-necked teeshirt which showed off my healthy tan and rippling muscles.

"What is the plan for today?" she enquired, squinting up at me in the bright sunshine, and still smiling in spite of my inelegant outfitting.

I thought she was delightfully demure in not commenting on my attire. Either that or unnaturally kind.

"Well," I said, "We are leaving the cars here and walking through the village, then up a grassy track to the hill over there where we'll see some nice views into the valley on either side. After a short pause we will walk along the ridge above us and come down another track back to the gate over there behind the pub. We can then either have our picnic on the tables in the beer garden here, or we can take the picnic with us and walk down to the woods where there are several large grassy clearings where we can spread out a cloth and relax in the warm sunshine. Your choice." I smiled down at her.

"The woods sound nice," she said, "What are we doing after the picnic?"

"I was hoping we could have a kiss and a cuddle, oww! or we can carrying on walking through the woods down to the river at the bottom of the valley. There are a series of attractive pools set into the hillside, this is a very nice beauty spot."

When I had got to the bit about the kiss and cuddle, Ruth had punched me playfully on the upper arm, although she still had a smile on her pretty face.

I feigned serious injury and rubbed my arm animatedly. I added, "For your size you certainly pack a decent punch."

She grinned and stuck out her cute pointed chin, "You better remember that, mister, if you overstep the line you know what you are gonna get. And no hitting me back, or I will dump you in an instant!" She tried to look serious, but could only partly keep her grin in check.

"Ok," I readily agreed, "So this is the deal, you can hit me any time I deserve it, and I will probably deserve it a lot, and in return ..." I held up my hand at this point, and put on a formal accent like I was in a court room, "I promise I will never strike you, I swear that I will always treat you with respect. I pledge that I will treat you like the lady I know you are. However, I do reserve the right to ..." and I grabbed her around the waist, adding "Tickle you!" and tickled her sides unmercilessly as she wriggled to get away from me.

I did receive a couple of soft punches for my trouble but was rewarded with some delightful squeals and giggles, a final cuddle and an all-to-brief snog with tongues before we sorted ourselves out for our little expedition.

I had a faded old haversack with a few bottles of coke and bars of chocolate wrapped up in a carrier bag with another bag of ice cubes to keep them cool, which I tossed over one shoulder. We locked our cars, Ruth using a locking bar between her steering wheel and brake pedal to secure her open-topped vehicle, and then we set off. I offered her my arm and she tucked her delicate forearm inside mine with a smile. After a few steps they pfell into a comfortable stride pattern out of the car park and along the main street of the village. Being Sunday all the shops were closed, except for the paper shop, although we didn't need anything from there.

Ruth stopped momentarily to look in the windows of a couple of darkened shops before we sat for a while on a bench by the duck pond, soaking up the warm mid-morning sunshine. We shared one of my bottles of coke and talked, finding out more about each other. It was getting warmer and Ruth removed her cardigan. Her blouse, I soon noticed, was quite transparent in the sunshine and I couldn't help notice how thin and flimsy the straps of her bra were and marvelled how the thin lacy material kept her ample charms in check, purely from my overwhelming interest in the wonders of engineering, of course.

We talked, although if truth were to be known, mostly she spoke and I listened. She had a much more cultured Home Counties-set voice than my rather common South Midlands drawl. She told me about herself, how she was an only child, her father a businessman as well as being a bank branch manager, with a number of commercial interests in the town. Her mother was a stay at home housewife who busied herself with a full social life revolving around her similarly-privileged friends. Ruth was attending the local college studying accountancy. She would have liked to have gone away to a distant university, but her mother was dead set against it, so studying accountancy while living at home was a compromise. She was aiming to get her own place as soon as she left college in a couple of years. Her flashy sports car was an 18th birthday present from her parents, she'd had it nearly a year, her 19th birthday coming round in three and a half weeks' time, on a Wednesday. Ruth was on summer break from college, she didn't have or indeed need, a holiday job, although she helped out all day Saturdays at a local horse riding stables looking after the horses and training the younger students, most of them girls. She wasn't able to keep a horse of her own but she did have a pet Scottie dog called Dougie, I think, who was 14, which was apparently old for a dog. She had known her best friend Carol since school. They had attended a good prep school from age 3 until she was 13, then a boarding school until she was 18. They used to meet up and go out on Wednesdays and Saturday nights, sometimes with other friends or just by themselves. Ruth had just returned from a ten-day summer vacation in Umbria, Italy with her parents, hence her nice suntan. She had never smoked, drank very little other than a couple of glasses of wine and had never tried drugs, nor did she ever want to.

My turn to own up. I shared with her that I was the youngest in my family, my two sisters were 12 and 14 years older than me, so I was clearly a mistake, I said with a smile. I told her I left home at 16 after an altercation with my father and hadn't spoken to him in the four years since. I had kept in touch with my mum but only without his knowledge and never saw her at the family home. I didn't tell Ruth the reason for my bust up with my father. He was a huge man, over six and a half feet tall, built like a brick shithouse and abusive to my mother and me. I had stood up for her one day when he knocked her down, I cannot remember why, and I had been beaten up, kicked unconscious and hospitalised. So after that I never had never returned home. Even my sisters had been turned against me, although I had not been on good terms with them for years, I had no idea why, but I kept all this back from Ruthie.

I did tell Ruth that I had lived in a series of short-term digs and had even been on the Council housing list for four years with nowhere near enough points to ever secure a place of my own to rent. I was, however, in the process of trying to share a flat with a couple of friends and my cousin, Bob, my best mate, who was about three or four years older than me. We had been firm pals since the day I started secondary school and was bullied, Bob had stepped in and I never had any more trouble.