World Enough and Time Ch. 03

I could see that what the counselor was saying about him had Tommy thoroughly embarrassed and Ruth beaming with pride, and I knew that, had I not been there, she would have stayed longer because she liked hearing people say nice things about her son.

But after a couple of polite minutes, we excused ourselves and said goodbye. Tommy jumped into my backseat with genuine excitement about the upcoming ride. I opened the passenger door for Ruth, and after I climbed in, we headed back up Highway 3 for the city.

On the first part of the ride home, Ruth asked Tommy a whole series of questions about camp and what he had spent his time doing. He was enthusiastic about providing in-depth answers to all of our questions, and in particular, he talked excitedly about a lot of the water sports and activities that he'd enjoyed.

He'd gone water skiing for the first time, and seemed particularly enthralled by a large floating trampoline that occupied the fresh-water lake on the camp's grounds. He'd gone kayaking and canoeing, and swimming in both the lake and the camp's pool almost every day unless it rained. He also proudly told me that he'd played a lot of baseball and was excited about having me pitch to him. He made it clear that he hadn't forgotten my promise.

At one point, Ruth reached back with her left hand to affectionately pat Tommy's leg, and in the mirror, I could see a look of fear wash across his face as he looked down at her hand. At first, he didn't say anything, but I could tell that something concerned him.

Finally, he spoke, "Mom, you lost your ring! Maybe you left it back at camp. Should we turn around and go look for it?" I was surprised that Tommy noticed. It said a lot about his powers of observation, and all that might suggest.

Ruth smiled sheepishly. She had stopped wearing her wedding ring after our first weekend together. It was a reminder of her loveless marriage to her husband, and honestly I could never figure out why she had continued wearing it as long as she did. I guess it was for Tommy. "No, no, honey. It's back at the house. It's fine, Tommy. I just stopped wearing it is all."

"Why, Mom?" He had a perplexed look on his face, as if something was happening, but he couldn't figure it out.

Ruth looked at me, seemingly for support, but there wasn't much I could do or say that wouldn't have been perceived even more strangely by Tommy. "Well, I'm not married any more, Tommy. A wedding ring is something that married people wear to show others that they are in a committed relationship. After your daddy died, I can't really say that I'm married. I just thought it was time for me to take it off. Does that bother you, honey?"

"No. I just wondered. I thought you lost it. I figured it was worth a lot of money, so I should tell you that I noticed it was gone." I could tell that Ruth was going to say something in response, but then she thought better of herself, and instead, said nothing at all.

The revelation that his mother was now a single woman had the effect of quieting Tommy. His enthusiasm for retelling the stories of his six weeks at camp quickly waned, and I could tell he was thinking.

And so, on the second half of the trip, with Tommy deep in thought, Ruth turned her attention to me. Somewhere around Marshfield, she asked me if I wanted a cigarette, and when I asked her if it was acceptable to smoke with Tommy in the car, she made it clear that it wasn't a problem. Tommy's father had smoked around him for most of the first nine years of his life. Besides, she reasoned, in effect, we were outside.

So, when I agreed that I would enjoy one and handed Ruth a fresh pack of Marlboros, she opened it, depressed my cigarette lighter, and with almost giddy delight lit my smoke as she had done so often over the past six weeks. What was interesting was that as the entire seemingly insignificant scene unfolded, I was watching Tommy's reaction to it in my rearview mirror, and I could tell that it had caught his attention.

I could tell that Tommy's focus wasn't on me, but rather his mother, and it wasn't the fact that I was smoking in front of him, but instead the almost sensual pleasure that Ruth elicited from lighting my butt and then provocatively placing the lipstick-stained smoke between my lips. His mother had already told him that she was no longer married, and now, she was no longer acting married.

I was watching it all, not from my perspective, as I had done dozens of times before, but from Tommy's, and I knew that it had made an impression on him. Along with the dress, she had worn that day and the missing ring she hadn't, it was as if he almost didn't recognize his own mother.

Tommy may have been too young to understand what was transpiring between Ruth and me, but he was old enough and smart enough to know that something was up. And somehow, the expression on his face, framed in my rearview, seemed to suggest that he wanted to find out more about why his mother was acting so goofy.

During the next few weeks of the summer, Ruth and I saw a lot less of each other. On three different occasions, she brought Tommy and Danny into the city, and all four of us went over to the Esplanade so Tommy, Danny and I could play either baseball or basketball or both. I got to know them better, and they both seemed to enjoy the time we spent together, though I think Ruth enjoyed watching us play even more than the three of us enjoyed playing. But it was a lot harder to spend nights together, and our sexual trysts were sporadic.

We did manage to have one more weekend together up at Granite Lake, when, during the fourth week in August, Ruth arranged for Tommy to stay with Danny and his parents for the weekend. I took off work early on that Friday afternoon, and Ruth drove in from Brookline and left her car at my place. That weekend proved to be especially memorable for several reasons.

First, it was the beginning of the end for Ruth and me. It wasn't our last time together, but it was the last full weekend of passion that we enjoyed -- the last marathon sex session between us. But there was something else, too. Maybe subconsciously Ruth knew this was our last hurrah, and so it's possible that she subliminally intended to squeeze every last ounce of sexual delight from those three days at the lake. What I do know is that I had never seen her so sexually aggressive and, let's face it, just plain horny. She was on fire.

That fire was apropos on that particular weekend, because it was hot, really hot, even after we got out of the city. Because of the weather, Ruth was dressed even more scantily that she was during most of the rest of that summer.

She was wearing a white, cotton halter dress with a single strap around the neck to hold up these skimpy bra cups, which barely covered her fat breasts. The skirt of the dress was short, ending well above her knees, and exposed a delightful ten inches of thighs. She was also wearing a pearl necklace that clung tightly to her neck and a pair of matching single pearl earrings. Maybe it was just me, but when she entered my front door, I sensed that the whole outfit had raised the temperature in my condo, which was already scorching, by at least a degree or two.

Ruth had spent a lot of time in the sun that summer. When I first met her in the spring of the year, her skin was so pale and white. For some reason, I think she was ashamed of that paleness, though I loved it. It reminded me that I was with a woman who was very different from me. But now by August, she had spent a good deal of time sunbathing, and her face, arms, shoulders, and legs bore the sexy evidence of that bronze makeover. I decided I liked the tan an awful lot as well.

I had my car parked in the shade on Chestnut Street, so we took the elevator down to ground level, and walked to the car and jumped in. We stopped at a grocery store to pick up food and beverages for the weekend. Then, strapped into my Corvette with the top down, we hit Interstate 93 headed north into New Hampshire.

Having the top down on the Corvette made the temperature more comfortable, but the sun beating down on us was pretty close to unbearable, and I think two full hours under that blistering heat lamp made our arrival at the cabin, shaded as it was in the woods, a truly welcome conclusion to the journey. We arrived in the middle of the afternoon, the hottest part of the day.

The cabin wasn't air conditioned, but it had been closed up tightly, and so, because it was tucked into a dense covering of trees, when we entered, it was nice and cool inside. We carried our travel bags and the cooler, filled with food and drinks inside, and once in the door, I immediately opened the cooler, pulled out a couple of cold bottles of beer to wash away the heat, cracked them open with an opener mounted on the side of the kitchen cabinet and set them on a small, round dining table. But I could tell that Ruth wasn't much interested in drinking, nor was she interested in much of anything else, except making love.

As soon as we got our things into the bedroom and the food and drinks into the refrigerator, I tried to talk her into a swim in the lake, but she had other ideas. We were standing between the kitchen counters and the table taking our first greedy sips of our cold beers, when, all of a sudden, she started kissing me with a passion I had never seen from her. Then, she began dismantling her dress. It may have felt good for Ruth to expose her baked flesh to the cooler air of the cabin, but what was underneath that dress did nothing to cool me down.

First, she bent her head, reached behind her neck, pulled her dress' strap over her head, and dropped the top of it to her waist. Underneath her dress, she exposed a white lace bra, and again reaching behind herself to unhook it, she released the bra cups that held her bare breasts and dropped it to the floor, revealing her full bosom and big, round areolas.

Her breasts carried the markings of her skimpy bikini with triangles of white flesh centered in the midst of the dark tan of her chest. The sides and tops of those breasts had been exposed to the sun, leaving her darker areolas and nipples perfectly centered in the middle of those pale triangles.

Her dark, pink areolas were a good three inches in diameter, almost reaching the edges of her tan lines, and because the fabric of her dress, whipped by the wind during our ride, had been rubbing against the thin, lace fabric of her bra, her nipples were excited and already erect and pointy. Rather than drinking any more from it, she took her cold, beer bottle and began rubbing it across those eraser-like points, until they stood up even more proudly. She grinned at me lewdly.

Then, she set her beer down on the counter, spread her legs, just a little and pulled the skirt portion of her dress up around her waist, and, as we stood there in the middle of the kitchen, she reached for my free hand and forced it to her crotch, which was damp and covered only by a tiny matching pair of white, lace panties.

I ran my middle finger up and down the narrow piece of fabric that covered her sex and when I did, Ruth bellowed her appreciation. "Oooooohhhhhh! I've been waiting for this. I want you to take me right here, Marcus, right here on this table. Make me cum with your mouth and your fingers. You are so good with both of them. You can make me cum so fast that way."

"You don't want to go back to the bedroom or maybe to the couch over there", I said motioning into a large, great room that overlooked the lake. "Either one would be more comfortable than this table, don't you think?" I asked, removing my hand from her panties as I did.

She smiled "You know, Marcus, I never listened to blues music until I met you, but now I like it... a lot. There's that one song that you've played for me, I don't remember who does it, but I like the lyrics. In my mind, I've kind of reversed them, and right now they sort of sum up my mood: 'I'm not built for comfort; I'm built for speed.'"

I smiled and set my beer on the counter. "Howlin' Wolf," I said, grasping a handful of her dress in my left hand while I slid my right hand inside her panties and, lowering it through her tuft of lush, pubic hair, found her pussy and entered her with my middle finger, "that's who did that song."

She was very wet, and my abrupt invasion loosed a loud moan, "Ooohhhmmmyyyygggoooddd!"

"I don't know, Ruth, I think you're definitely built for comfort, too", I snickered, swirling my finger inside her as I did. She was too aroused to respond.

Then, just as abruptly, I withdrew my finger, slick with her juices, and grasping her about her hips, I lifted her up, just as I had done that night in my office conference room, and I lay her down on her back on the table with her legs dangling off the edge.

Then, I pushed Ruth's dress back up around her waist, reached around her hips, and pulled her panties down her legs. As she stared at me with what seemed like both fear and anticipation, I brought her panties to my face and ran them under my nose, breathing in all of her fragrances -- her perfume, her salty sweat, and the deep musk of her wet and eager sex. I tossed the panties on the tabletop next to her.

Then, I got on my knees and started kissing my way up her legs. Like her breasts, her crotch evidenced another pale, white triangle of flesh surrounded by more tanned skin, and at the center of that triangle, a furry patch of dark, brown pubic hair hovered above her smooth, glistening pussy. I spread her legs, and pulled her to me so that the tablecloth slid across the tabletop, and as I did, her panties tumbled to the floor. I placed the backs of her upper thighs on my wide shoulders, balancing her there.

She was breathing faster now, and when my lips nearly reached her pussy, I kissed my way around it just to tease her for a bit. We had all weekend, and I was in no hurry, but that was wholly unacceptable to Ruth, and she had, over the course of that summer become a demanding lover, so she was none too pleased with my playfulness.

"Stop teasing me, Marcus! I need to cum." She said it with utter seriousness, and with that imperative, she reached for my head with both her hands, and pulled my face forcibly to her sex.

"All right, Ruth. You don't have to get rough with me", I joked, and I moved my tongue to her slit and began licking the length of her wet opening. Ruth was still guiding my head with her hands, showing me what she liked the best. This continued for several minutes with her holding my head tightly until the second that I moved my tongue and lips to her clitoris for the first time.

"Oh yeah! Right there! Oh, suck my clit, Marcus. Pull me into your mouth." I could feel her thighs tighten their grip on my head, and she held the back of it even more insistently to her, and when she did, I wrapped my entire mouth around the hood that housed her little man in the boat, and using as much suction as I could generate, I drew the fleshy length into my lips, and held it there. Ruth went berserk. She started thrashing around atop the table, grinding against me and screaming louder than I had ever before heard her, "Aaaaaaahhhhhhh! Aaaaaaahhhhhhh! Aaaaaaahhhhhhh! Aaaaaaahhhhhhh!"

But I wasn't even close to beginning what I knew would bring her to the quickest climax, and it was when I found that little nub with my tongue that the most interesting things started happening. Ruth hands were still holding the back of my shaved head, but when my tongue, still inside my puckered lips, started dancing around her clit, stabbing over, around, and directly at it, she started moving them furiously all about my head, rubbing, squeezing, and twisting it with such force that for a moment, I wondered if she could actually hurt me.

She produced no words, only sounds so feral and savage in nature that I cannot even sound them out phonetically. They cascaded one over the other so quickly that the only thing that distinguished them was the volume and pitch. As her screams grew to crescendo levels, the tremors started welling up deep within Ruth, and that is when the explosion took place.

I felt it hit the bottom of my chin first, though it soon poured down my neck and over my shirt, dripping like a leaky pipe down my chest and all over the floor on which I knelt. The spray came in waves that coincided with Ruth's screams, and all of it -- the animalistic sounds, the eruption of female arousal, and the quaking -- was so violent that Ruth's legs wrapped around my head nearly wrestled my upper body to the ground.

I am by no means a small man, and I would like to think, I am also a strong man. When I was in college at Northeastern, the football coach sought me out -- tried to get me to play halfback for the Huskies. Once he found out I was enrolled at Northeastern, one of his assistant coaches who had coached against me in high school gave him a crude, 8 millimeter film recording of me playing running back on the Roxbury varsity team. Coach Zabilski was impressed, but told me that he couldn't offer me scholarship money at least at first, as it had all been allocated for that school year. Still, he assured me that if I played and proved myself that year, I would be able to earn financial aid the following year.

I turned him down. I didn't have enough money to pay tuition without my job collecting garbage, and if I played football, I didn't have time to work, so without the offer of a scholarship, I couldn't do it. My point in relaying this distracting and needless tale about a football career that never panned out is that plenty of full-grown men had tried and failed to take me to ground, while Ruth -- all 5'3" of her -- almost twisted my head off my torso with the passionate writhing that wracked her small frame as that ferocious orgasm coursed through her.

Eventually -- though it couldn't have been less than a minute or two later -- the spasms slowly subsided, and when I pulled my face away from Ruth's pussy, I must have looked a fright. The entire front of my blue shirt was drenched, and I was kneeling in a puddle in the middle of the kitchen floor.

The look on Ruth's face when she sat up enough to see me was pure fright. I think she thought she had hurt me, and she clearly did not understand what had just happened. I am not sure that I did either. I had never seen a female ejaculation, and even if I had, I couldn't possibly have had a better front row seat than I had for that one.

"Oh, Marcus, what just happened? Did I really do that to you? Oh my god, I am so sorry! I've never.... I don't understand. What...? What...? What...."

I decided I would answer her question for her. "I think you just came, Ruth. You came really hard. Don't apologize. I thought it was amazing. Watching you, feeling you cum so... so violently -- was that one really different from all the others, wasn't it Ruth? It seemed like it was the most powerful climax you've ever had. Was it good?"

"Oh, Marcus! Come here!" I stood up, and she reached for me with both of her hands, pulling my face to hers as she lie back against the tabletop, and she kissed me so ardently and passionately that I almost couldn't breathe. When we broke our embrace, Ruth continued, "I want to suck your big, black cock, Marcus. I want to make you cum with my mouth, like you made me cum with yours. It's only fair."

"Okay," I said stupidly, and from that moment forward, Ruth directed most of the action throughout that entire weekend. I sat back and watched an absolute sexual dynamo take control of my life.

"Take your clothes off, Marcus," Ruth said, still lying back against the dining table. "I want you to feed me your cock, right here on the table." I did as I was told, and when I had stripped everything off and thrown it carelessly to the kitchen floor, I took a couple of steps forward until I was standing by the side of the table from which Ruth's darkish red hair hung seductively.