I undressed moodily. I'd never seen her like this. Where was all her motherly affection?
"Now we can talk," she said, as I sat on the bed. She took my hand, guided it to her crotch and pressed my fingers into her crevice. "Keep stroking," she ordered. "Gently! Don't go mad!"
She was dry, but almost at once she moistened. My prick was half-hearted but as soon as her crotch became squishy, and my fingers sank into hot membranes, it alerted and quivered.
"I didn't get much sleep last night," she told me, less acid now she was enjoying a soothing friction. "But I've got it figured out. It'll solve your problems too, Mike."
My heart leaped.
"We must act quickly," she said. "I can't let him show me up before my friends. I'll send a letter to everyone saying we've agreed to separate, and that I'm going to marry you. That'll catch him on the hop. He'll tell everyone he's divorcing me, but I'll spike his guns. Everyone knows I can't stand him. And we'll get married right after the divorce."
The word marriage made me cringe. "You said it would solve my problems, Ruth?"
She was surprised I was so dumb. "Don't you understand? You just tell those girls you're marrying me. Don't be scared. They can talk to me if they want. I'll soon tell them!"
There was anguish inside me. "What about my family?"
"Relatives are always a bother. You must learn to live your own life. They'll come around in time!"
"And my job!"
"That's no problem. I have a little business. It's nothing to do with Roger. A hardware shop. I'll put you in it. As soon as you've learned the business I'll sack the manager. How's that?"
"Fine," I said numbly.
"I won't be receiving the money Fm accustomed to," she pointed out, seeking my sympathy. "But you're strong, Mike. You're intelligent too. There's many ways you can make the business pay more. We've two lazy youths doing nothing around the shop. We have to have them because occasionally something heavy has to be lifted. But you could do their job in a quarter of the time it takes them to load a van. That would save their wages. And why pay overtime? If you get in early you can open up, and lock up too!"
"If I get in really early, I could scrub out the shop and save charwoman's wages," I suggested.
She didn't suspect sarcasm. "You won't have tune," she regretted. "There's so many things to do outside business hours, stock up the shelves, prepare deliveries and write invoices. You'll keep the books, of course."
"It seems like a job I can get my teeth into."
"It'll be time-consuming, Mike. But you'll get used to it. So tonight I'll post off this letter telling everybody we're getting married as soon as I get free from Roger. I'll put a notice in the newspapers too."
What was the point of arguing? I didn't want to marry Janet, I didn't. want to marry Lillian and I didn't want to marry Ruth.
I didn't want to marry anybody! The closer I came to marriage the more it looked like a treadmill. There were three of them now planning how I'd work myself to death while they lay in bed and ate chocolate creams. But that advertisement worried me. Ruth might put it in the evening papers.
"Announce it in the Sunday Times," I said. "During the week people only scan the newspapers. On Sundays they lie in bed and read it from back to front."
"The Sunday Times" she agreed.
I sighed with relief. I'd averted Nemesis for a few days.
"So that's that, Mike," she said with the air of having arranged our future.
"I'll still be a Correspondent,"' I pointed out. "Where do I get a thousand pounds?"
She gestured airily. "Don't worry. You don't own anything, do you?"
"I've a few pounds in the bank."
"So. No problem. After we're married everything will be in my name. Even when they make you bankrupt they can't get anything. What belongs to me is mine; they can't touch it for your debts. So don't worry!"
"But although I'm bankrupt, I'll still have to pay?"
"The court can seize a percentage of your wages. But we'll fix that. I'll pay you only a small wage. What they'll get out of it won't be worth collecting."
"You're clever, Ruth. You think of everything!"
She was flattered. She smirked. "Not many men can get the better of a woman."
I was still stirring her up and her pussy was squelching nicely. She'd disposed of business and was shunting her thought onto sex. "Now let's talk about you and me, Mike!" A warmer note softened her voice. She'd fixed it all. I was to marry her and climb up on the treadmill. I'd work sixteen hours a day, most of it heavy laboring, and I'd be paid peanuts. If I was real good maybe I'd have enough pocket money to buy a Coca-Cola in a cafe. Now I had to sex her up to prove my gratefulness.
"I missed you terribly yesterday, Mike," she said softly. Her fingers strayed to my thigh. My prick twitched happily; the bastard! "I missed you so much!" She'd been waiting all week and then Roger had brutally broken up our session. I didn't doubt she'd missed me.
"A strange thing happened this morning, Mike," she said dreamily. "When you don't hurry away, as you did yesterday, I'm happy to wake up alone in the mornings. I'm used to Roger climbing over me and putting it in. But, this morning of course, he didn't. Not that he ever gave me pleasure. I always had to give myself a thrill, afterwards. But… " she flushed.
"You can get into a habit, even when it isn't pleasurable. I missed that hot, piercing feeling." She was stroking my cock beautifully. "Do it the way Roger did it," she urged. "Put me in the mood." Her fingers tightened on my cock and pulled it about like a drill sergeant shoving a raw recruit into line. My pride resented it. But my big, fat prick had no pride. It didn't care that it was being humiliated. And I had to go along with it. I climbed over her the way she wanted, poised, and then hammered a nail up inside her. Her calves twined around mine, her fingers gouged into my bottom cheeks and she wriggled around to get comfortable. "That's it!" she said with satisfaction. "Now screw me!"
It was like screwing a slippery jelly. Roger's nail had stretched her crevice into a horse's collar. My prick couldn't touch sides.
Her fingers pressed the rhythm she wanted into my bottom and her loins pistoned demandingly. "Screw me," she panted, "Screw me!"
Where was the Ruth I knew? Where was her motherly affection, her tender undressing,.the happy lounging back while she simmered my prick in her hot pussy-juice, and bubbled her little orgasms around my knob?
Ruth's character had changed. And her screwing style had changed too. I was surprised she.could feel anything at all. But she must have done because her fingers kept gouging into my bottom rhythmically, almost thrusting my prick up inside her. So together we hammered my nail into her while she had lots of jolly little orgasms. It Was fun for her, but frustration for me. But finally she had a big orgasm and afterwards went completely limp. Her legs splayed apart bonelessly and her hands flopped at her sides. But she urged: "Don't stop! Don't, stop."
She wasn't even being frictioned by my knob. It skimmed up and down inside her almost afloat in pussy-drool. She could only be getting stimulus from my pubic bone, which was grinding rhythmically against the union of her pussy-lips. I concentrated upon grinding my pubic bone into her. "Lovely, Mike" she whispered, her face dreamy. "Lovely." She was still as limp as a dishcloth but was having a chain of little orgasms. They ran into each other.
"Wonderful like this, darling," she panted. "In the future, we'll always do it this way."
Even my prick shuddered at those words. Now I was on a sex treadmill. She wasn't exerting a muscle. I was doing everything. And she was content for this to go on indefinitely. All it needed now was for me -to pop a chocolate cream into her mouth.
I was sweating with frustration and my prick was fuming. It had dug away non-stop a long time and was frantic for recognition. "Suck me, Ruth?" I suggested.