Sally's Story

Sally's Story

Ruth first appears in Compulsion

Chapter 1

Ruth took her vacation early so she could go to a Ted Talk. As you know, Ted talks focus on overcoming obstacles in life and featured people who stuttered badly and are members of Congress, athletes with one leg who were running marathons, and guys with tiny dicks who were not transsexuals, but male sex workers. How could this be? Believe it or not, in a Ted Talk you learned about your hidden power, and that you too -- normally a worthless sack of shit -- could be a paradigm for success. Yes, Dirty Harry was her idol, and she hoped someday she'd meet someone carrying a .57 magnum who would shoot anyone in the balls who would dare minimize women!

Ruth was a highly intelligent woman, a graduate of Stanford University, and made her living as a therapist. That was her full time job. She worked part time as a sex worker, earning more in one night than she made in a month as a therapist. She talked rarely during a typical session, choosing to listen. The reason was obvious: when you talk you learn nothing, but in listening you get informed, titillated, and aroused!

She never considered herself as anyone special. She didn't have a boyfriend and barely had enough confidence to go to a bar, and let a salesman buy her a drink. She knew the men were married, and usually they told their wives they did not understand them. As one of her black friends told her , "I know my husband only too well. I wouldn't give him enough powder to blow himself to hell and back." And then Brianna didn't know whether to cry or put her fist through the wall.

It was during the Ted talk, on becoming a better speaker, that Ruth met Sally. Dressed conservatively in a business suit, Sally was your typical housewife. She was 43, wore a size 12, and had a big ass. Sally never had a big ass, but being married and snacking all day long, mostly in frustration, her backside expanded and attracted attention. Because it was big. Maybe prominent would be a better word. It was fleshy, curvy, and delicious. It made you want to sink your teeth into it. Moreover, her ass was what captured Ruth's attention. Ruth loved woman with a nice ass. Sally was a redhead, at least this month, and wore lipstick to match her hair.

Sally was staying at the Knickerbocker Hotel, located in Times Square. She was in the lobby, leafing through brochures on New York City, like what to see, what's playing on Broadway, where to get tickets, and harbor cruises. That sort of thing. From the way Sally flipped through the brochures, it was obvious she had no idea how she wanted to spend her afternoon. When Ruth appeared, by her side, choosing a brochure on the MTA, for subway schedules and how to get to the Bronx zoo, Sally looked at Ruth and gave her a big smile.

"I like the Metropolitan Museum of Art," Ruth ventured. "I go there every time I come to New York!"

"Really? I've never been there. This is my first time in New York ..."

"Oh? Then you'll love New York! We used to come to the city and see a show every weekend, before prices went through the roof. That's when I lived in Boston. Then we'd go to Coney Island and get up on that Roller Coaster ..." and then Ruth realized she was rambling.

"Go on," Sally said. "I love listening to you talk! You have a lovely voice ..."

"Thank you, but I tend to get all wound up --"

"Where are you from? You don't have a Boston accent!"

"I am originally from the Bay Area, San Francisco. My boyfriend was from East Boston. He's doing prison time at the moment ..."

"I'm sorry," Sally said. "For drugs? So many people are doing time for drugs ..."

"Not drug related. He's a smart ass. He thought he could rob banks. He was lousy at robbing banks. He'd do time, then rob another bank, then do time, then rob another bank. Really dumb."

"Did he have a job?"

"Yes, he was an investor, as he called himself. He lost a lot of money in the market ..."

The ladies weren't smiling anymore. Ruth didn't want pity and she hated talking about Frank. He was a stupid fuck. She wanted to know more about Sally. She needed to ask Sally about her birthday.

Ruth saved a lot of time by doing a mental horoscope on the gals, because if she wasn't compatible with a woman, why waste your time? Ruth was a Libra, the balance, and she wanted everything in her life to be nice and even. She never got drunk because she knew what her limit was. Only assholes got drunk, she thought, because they didn't know when to stop drinking, or the guy had no strength of character, an earth worm, or weakling, a blob. They were all the same.

"What's your sign, Sally?"

She laughed. "I'm a Leo. My ruling planet is the sun. I like to be the center of attention!"

"Well, that's fine. You can shine all you want! I'm more laid back ..."

"Then you're a fish? Pisces?"

"No, my dear, I'm a Libra. We're compatible. Air and fire are good. I had a Leo girlfriend and all she wanted to do was lick my pussy. I must have climaxed fifty times every time she came over!"

Sally laughed so hard there were tears running down her cheeks.

After Sally stopped laughing, Ruth leaned in, and asked her, "So where are you from?"

"Somewhere down south, a small town, you've never heard of it."

"How small?"

"It doesn't even have a post office. Real small ..."

"That's small! I thought every town had a post office!"

"Well, it used to. The government recently cut funding, and now it's a saloon."

"A saloon?"

"Yes, lots of people drink in my town. Not many can read. Typical redneck town ..."

Ruth really liked Sally because Sally made her laugh, and Ruth wanted to find out more about her. Sally had curves and Ruth liked plus-sized women.

"Are you married?" Ruth asked.

"Yes, the last time I checked. My husband has a tendency to disappear for days at a time. He drinks, you see ..."

Sally was an English major at school and wanted to become a writer. She wanted to write the great American novel, her and a thousand others. She grew up in Miami and learned to speak Spanish. She loved the beaches in Miami, and the Everglades, but she needed to go somewhere where she could hang out with real people. Like the common man. All she met in Miami were drug dealers and retirees from the north.

She did the research, checking out towns in the deep south, like towns that Erskine Caldwell wrote about. She was fascinated by West Virginia. Rents were dirt cheap and she could write trashy novels and earn enough to keep going. She married Albert , an industrial engineer, a guy who did time and motion studies for a small manufacturing plant. When he published his findings to management, that people were goofing off, he received death threats and was forced to leave town. He got a job at the saloon tending bar.

His libido was almost gone and he sought comfort in hookers. Even they couldn't do much for him, plus they were expensive. He thought about working as a butler, but he didn't have a British accent, and there were no openings for butlers in the boondocks. As a last resort he applied to Walmart, about 5 miles from home. Even Walmart rejected him. He went into a deep depression and refused to talk to anyone.

Sally was almost in tears as she elaborated on her unhappy marriage with Albert.

"Yes, I know the type," Ruth said. "I know lots of women in your shoes. They get romanced by a big dick, get married, and then find out the guy's a loser."

She was interested in Sally's story, about her marriage, and hoped to get to know her better. "Children?" Ruth asked.

"Yes, Albert has a daughter from a previous marriage. His daughter left home after Albert tried to fuck her. And I have a son."

"And your son?"

"He's still home. He tries to fuck me every chance he gets, but so far he hasn't succeeded."

"Because you won't let him?"

"Not exactly. I would let him, but he's clueless. He's a virgin. He's dumb about women. You know, a woman likes a guy who knows what he's doing ..."

Ruth had to agree, nodding as if she had a lot of experience. Ruth had dated a good looking guy for a few months and dumped him when she found out he was gay.

"So your love life isn't --"

"I prefer women," Sally interrupted. "Not just any woman. I like intelligent women, a woman who's sweet. I don't care for butch types!" Sally gave Ruth a special smile, fluttering her lashes.

"In my line of work, I meet lots of women who prefer women," Ruth related, trying to appear professional. "Actually most of them are married. That's why they prefer women. They made bad choices."

"Are you with anyone now?" Sally asked.

"Yeah. You!"

Sally laughed. "Cute!"

"Yeah, thanks." Ruth removed a cigarette from a silver cigarette case.

"Oh, do you smoke?"

"No, I don't ..."

"But --"

"It's a prop. Like in B movies, people smoke a lot. Actually, they are forced to smoke, because it gives them something to do ... crappy dialogue."

"Very interesting."

"Like in a love scene. A guy has sex with a woman, and he lights up a cigarette. After he finishes, that is ..."

Sally was listening.

"He never smokes when he's fucking the girl."

"Right."

"Did you notice nobody smokes in porn?" Ruth was thinking aloud. "Not cool ... porn actors are smart. Besides, they're too preoccupied to smoke ..."

"I never thought of that ..."

"Hardly any dialogue. Just action."

"Yeah."

"When the guy cums, he pulls his dick out and she has to swallow it ..."

"Yuck!"

"The scene is over. Nobody smokes ..." She neglected to mention drugs.

"That's a good point!"

Ruth put her cigarette case back into her purse.

"What's your son's name?"

"Wendell. He's 22. He's still in high school ..."

"Really? How come? Was he held back?"

"It's a long story. He wanted to go to college but the closest community college is 200 miles away."

"OK ..."

"He's a good looking guy, not quite six feet tall, and slim. He graduated from high school. He took the college course -- you know, like he took Latin, chemistry, history. Lots of useless stuff. Nobody speaks Latin anymore."

"Yes, that's true."

"He tried to find work in construction and they were looking for electricians, plumbers, carpenters ..."

"I can see where you're going with this."

"So I told him to stay in school until he learned something useful. Otherwise he'd be home all day, trying to get into my pants."

"Speaking of which, let me buy you a drink!"

They both headed for the lounge, right off the lobby. There were a few salesmen, nursing beers, pretending to be reading the Wall Street Journal.

They found a booth in a corner. They sat across from each other, and when a cute waitress came over, Ruth ordered scotch on the rocks for both of them.

"She's got a nice ass," Ruth said.

"So how's your love life?" Ruth looked at Sally, making good eye contact.

"It could be better," Sally said, smiling at Ruth in a nice way.

"That's usually the case. Women never get enough."

"I'm so fucking horny, I could scream."

"Really? How horny are you?" Ruth wanted to know.

"I can't start the day without masturbating."

"Not unusual. Everybody does it. I do it. Most of my clients do it."

"One day Wendell caught me. I was really horny that day! I don't know why. But I was really working it hard. Whimpering, like a puppy."

Ruth pictured Sally and a puppy.

"I was wearing next to nothing -- a thong. My pubes were soaked ..."

Ruth pictured Sally in a thong. Soaked.

"I was climaxing over and over, humping my ass off the bed ... I must have scared Wendell!"

Ruth pictured Wendell, google-eyed, staring at Sally.

"Then I squirted! I hardly ever squirt," she confessed. "I almost hit Wendell!"

"Ohmygod!"

Sally was re-living the incident in her mind. "He bolted down the hallway and almost ran out the front door. He ran into the UPS guy!"

Sally was shaking her head. "Wendell is clueless!"

Ruth nodded my head. "So you have strong climaxes ..."

"Very strong. My pussy vibrates and my juices --"

"Yes, I know -- "

"What about you? Do you get horny?????"

"You mean, like right now? I am always horny!"

"Well, aren't we all!"

"I am totally turned-on now! Listening to you telling me about Wendell ... did he ever come back?"

"Yes, he apologized. He said I freaked him out. Clueless ..."

"Then what?"

"His fly was open. It was obvious he was playing with himself ..."

"You must have really turned him on."

"It pained me to see him like that. I consoled him."

"How?"

"I fished out his dick. It was hard! Like a fleshy flag pole!"

Ruth smiled, her eyes gleamed at the visual.

"And I jerked him off. I just couldn't leave him like that ..."

Ruth listened. She was a good listener.

"Just like that? How??"

"I did it slow. I know he likes it slow. It lasts longer and when he shoots -- watch out below!"

They both laughed.

Ruth looked into Sally's eyes, and that told her what she was feeling. She wanted to hear more from Sally.

"I'm listening." Ruth said. "Tell me more ..."

* * *

Chapter 2

Sally's Narrative

I have to admit, I was a little tough on Wendell. In spite of myself, I had to glance at the crotch of Wendell's underwear. He had a huge lump down there and the tip of his dick was visible. Of course, it was leaking and I was sorely tempted to lick it with my tongue.

Wendell had an incredible hard-on. It was more unusual when he didn't have an erection, since he spent his free time watching porn and eyeballing my ass. His cock seemed to have a sensor built into it; every time I walked into a room, he was staring at me, fisting his cock. And I had to pretend I didn't see it otherwise he'd start whimpering about how much his balls hurt and I had to give him a blow job ...

What is it with men, they have nothing on their minds except getting their rocks off? I wasn't blind, because a woman can smell precum twenty feet away. I was used to having a conversation with his dick because I got more information from his cock, not his eyes. His dick was over 10 inches long and it was a thick dick. When fully erect, it looked like a club.

My boobs were always the first thing Albert checked out. Mostly because I was sitting down and it's not easy checking out a woman's ass if she's sitting down. When I was at home, I wore tank tops and shorts, and he could tell when I was horny because my nipples were stiff. When I was writing, worked on a sexy novel, I toyed with my nipple, especially when the lady in the novel was getting fucked. Or eaten. Or having an orgasm, which is mutually exclusive. When a guy fucks you, he usually leaves you hanging and frustrated, so you finish yourself off with your fingers. Of course, the guy doesn't know you faked your orgasm, because you don't want to crush his fragile ego. Which was most of the time. I wasn't getting any action from my husband because he'd disappeared a week ago. He'd be back, because he always came back.

"Please, Mom," Wendell pleaded. He was always pleading, whining because his dick bothered him. I told him to go watch TV or go jogging, but all he wanted to do was gawk at my boobs, then he'd get hard, and then he'd want to get down on his knees and look at my legs and see if there were any pussy hairs. Of course there were pussy hairs! Does he think I have nothing to do but shave my pussy? Fuck that!

He stepped closer to me as I sat on the edge of the mattress and he started to slip off his briefs. "I'm so turned on. I promise not to tell Dad." He always waited until we got in the bedroom because he knew I'd kick his ass if he bothered me while I was writing.

I tugged his briefs off, letting them fall down his legs to the floor, leaving him naked except for the t-shirt he usually wore. It was his favorite tee, with some fucking rock group on it. There should be t-shirts with a gigantic dick on it.

I found myself staring at his throbbing affair. His knob was fat and shiny and oozing precum, and his blue-veined shaft bounced and twitched before my eyes. How's that for a visual? Naturally, I'm getting turned on. I felt a wave of lust filtering through my body. Even my ass itched! The urge to put my mouth over his dick was overwhelming. I was thirsty and it wasn't lemonade I wanted.

"Pay attention, Wendell," I told him. I licked my lips as I looked at his affair. My mouth always goes dry when I see a big cock.

I wanted to paint a picture for him. You know, about what a woman expects when you start diddling her pussy. Once I start giving you blowjobs, I told him, you'll want a blowjob every time your nuts tingle.

At your age, I'll be giving you a blowjob every ten minutes. I wasn't put on earth to give you blowjobs! Then I had to add, 'not that I'm complaining, because I like sucking cock.' I smiled at him, like after you punish a kid you're supposed to tell him you love him. Something I learned in anger management ...

Being a Casanova brings responsibility, I wanted him to understand. None of this 'find them, fuck them, and forget them'. That's macho bullshit, a tweet from a birdbrain, a mind fart that only stinks and has no merit. Should I go on?

I wanted to see if he was paying attention. Obviously he was wanking as I talked. It wasn't that he was being disrespectful. He was in a rut! He nodded. 'Yeah, I think so.'

I continued to fondle his balls. Like a pacifier, you know. His balls are hairless but big, like turkey eggs. Do turkeys have eggs?

"But it hurts, Mom," Wendell said with this goofy expression on his face. "I hear what you're saying, but my nuts are killing me!" He stepped even closer, his swollen limb almost an inch from my mouth. "You make my cock harder than it's ever been. I'll get blue balls if I don't come soon!" I could not visualize blue balls. What the fuck is that?

Suddenly I couldn't stand it any longer. My husband's cock never got this stiff, even when he was really turned on. Which was rarely. My pussy was buzzing, and I needed it bad.

Wendell groaned as I held his prick tightly in both hands, squeezing and milking it.

Oh yes, his cock was like an ivory baton, very stiff, I have to admit, like a club. I gave him some tongue action and licked all over the dripping knob of his pecker.

Opening my mouth as wide as I could, I almost choked as I inhaled the first few inches of his prick down my throat.

"Ohhhh!" Wendell looked down at me, and I could feel his cock grow larger as I gave him a lingual lube job. What does a guy think about when you're blowing him? My head was bobbing up and down as I sucked lightly and then harder, then tickled his balls and then rolled his foreskin up and stretched it to cover his nut. I love foreskin!

Someday he'll remember what I did to him -- his first blowjob. He'll be 85 years old when he'll be using his dick to swat flies and it won't be much good for anything else. When he cums it'll feel like a hiccup and it'll be over. No spurting cum across the room!

I was engrossed with his pulsing tube of flesh, and I could almost feel his heart beat through his glans. He wanted to touch my body, maybe my breasts but he knew I was leaking so heavily it would be like grool, the consistency of paste; he wanted to stick his fingers into my hairy grotto, to use a poetic analogy. So funny ...

When I get really aroused there's an odor, and you can smell it ten feet away. I use Bert's Bees, an apricot cream. It's supposed to mitigate the fishy smell, and every woman I know loves it. It makes your pussy smell sweet. With a woman, I can make her climax over and over again, and when her pussy smells like apricot, I become insatiable and lick her until she becomes hysterical ...

Anyway, back to Wendell. He was yapping about how good it felt and not to stop, but I knew how to suck cock, and didn't have to be told, because I was enjoying the feeling of power I got from nursing on his affair. I could make him shoot when I was ready for him, usually when my jaws started to ache.