"But it's so lovely this way, Mike. I don't want it any other way!"
"How about you rolling over? I'll go in up the back. It'll be a new thrill."
"You are enjoying this, aren't you, Mike?" There was reproach in her voice that could easily become anger.
"Yes," I said. "But… "
"Don't forego your own pleasure to please me, darling. This makes me very happy. And don't hold back on my account. When you can't hold back any longer, don't be afraid to let yourself go. I'll probably have an orgasm too."
Hold myself back! I couldn't even rub myself up!
"You move beautifully," she whispered. "You thrill right through me!"
I was screwing nothing, stabbing my prick into melted grease. This was the end of Ruth. Once I got out of there I'd never come back. She could stick her tread milling shop and her tread milling cunt up her ass. Only one thing prevented me getting up and, leaving at that moment. My big, fat prick. It was sobbing and wailing with frustration. It craved satisfaction. At least it was inside a pussy, and wouldn't leave it.
I closed my eyes and concentrated. I masturbated without using my hands. I pictured a beautiful film star. She smiled at me warmly as I approached, her lips red, and her blouse molded to her firm breasts. The hard nipples prodded through the fine fabric. When my fingers went to the button below her cleavage she pursed her lips in breathless desire. I unbuttoned quickly, and pushed back her blouse. She stood proudly, hard breasts flaring at me, nipples taut and arrogant. She smiled and her long tongue moistened her ripe lips. My hands went to the zip of her skirt and she stood astride, her hips sturdily receptive. The zip hissed and the skirt whispered down her slim thighs. She stepped out of it. Her eyes were challenging and she smiled provocatively. She thrust out her pelvis and a shallow depression formed in the middle of a satin-skinned belly within which her navel nested coyly. Her panties were a wisp of flimsiness, a mere triangle with bows on each hip. The flesh glowed through it warmly except where the opaque panties were strained so tight it outlined the ripeness of her love-lips, and the crevice between them. I stared entranced and she responded sexually to my admiration. A small wet stain appeared on the crotch. It grew rapidly, expanded quickly, thickly coating her love-lips. They glowed warmly through sticky nylon that had become transparent. Beads of glistening drool gathered within her crevice and began to trickle down in long, silvery threads. My fingers went to the panty bows. I tugged. The dainty triangle fell away from her groin, the crotch still clinging stickily to her love-lips. I adored the sleek, black hair that fleeced her Mount of Venus while I watched the crotch slowly peel away from her love-lips. Then the panties dropped down between her parted thighs and I relished the bared, slipper)' love-lips, demurely parted and expectant. I took a deep breath. I stepped forward. I rested my hands on her hips. I whispered my fingers down over her cool buttocks and then gripped them tightly. She gave a deep sigh and thrust her breasts hard against me. The nipples rubbed and rolled against my chest like little pebbles. She was panting and her hips were braced expectantly. I took another deep breath. I poised. I lunged. I went deep inside her. Right up. Right home. It was explosive. I was suddenly spurting. And Ruth was sobbing in my ear as she erupted too. Her arms flung around my neck, crushing me in a chocking embrace. Her legs twined around me, her ankles crossed and her heels bore down upon my buttocks.
I shot and shot. I fucked a dream girl. Fucking a dream is better than no fuck at all. If I'd depended upon Ruth's pussy to trigger me off, I'd have been there yet, still hammering away with my nail.
I was exhausted. Not from coming. But from the sheer physical effort of pistoning my loins so long. I couldn't understand how Roger could have lived with it. Perhaps he'd screwed a dream girl every night. But one that he'd trained to make him come within seconds.
"That was lovely!" said Ruth, smoothing her fingers across my wet brow. "It was good for you too. I can tell. You're so tired!"
"It's you," I said. "The way you love would tire any man."
"You flatterer you!" She giggled coyly.
My legs were rubbery and my back ached.
"Have a little nap, darling," she soothed. She brushed my damp hair back off my forehead.
I opened one eye and looked at the clock. Half-past-three. I'd been due back at the office hours ago. But even if I rushed back I'd only have to climb on Janet's sexy treadmill.
"Wake me in an hour," I murmured, and closed my eyes.
I was asleep before I knew it.
Chapter 8
Ruth shook me awake. "A cup of tea, Mike. It'll freshen you up."
I looked at the clock. Half-past-four. Just time to meet Lillian at five o'clock. I sipped the tea and eyed Ruth warily. But she wasn't going to be a problem. She'd got dressed. "Don't mind me, Mike," she said. "Make yourself at home. Do whatever you want. I'm drafting the letter I'm going to send out."
I showered and drank a second cup of tea while I was dressing. Ruth glanced up absentmindedly as I drifted towards the door. "Going out, Mike?"
"I must look in at the office. I've been out all afternoon."
"Don't stand any nonsense from Janet. Tell her straight out how things are. If you wait until tomorrow we can see her together."
"I'll tell Janet myself. It's the only way."
I closed the door of Ruth's apartment with my heart hammering in relief. I'd escaped! Whatever happened, even if all hell broke loose, I'd never go back to Ruth!
I arrived at Tottenham Court Road subway at five minutes past five. Lillian was tapping her heel impatiently. She eyed me grimly as I hurried towards her. "You're late!" she snapped. "You knew I've only a little time to spare. A wedding dress isn't like any old dress. It needs special attention!"
A miracle occurred. I avoided telling her to stick her wedding dress up her fucking ass. "I got away as soon as I could," I apologized.
She took my arm possessively, like a cop taking a man into custody. "I told you not to be late," she lectured. "You know I've got so little time; and everything to get ready."
It was her idea that we should meet for a quick poke. It was her pussy that was burning for hot cock, But she talked as though I was lucky to have the chance to screw her.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
The pad."
She sniffed. "Isn't Dave home on leave?"
"He's not using it this evening."
"I was looking forward to a comfortable hotel room!"
"Hotels are expensive. The pad doesn't cost a penny,"
"The bed creaks. And there's not room to swing a cat around!"
"But we'll be saving money." That consoled her.
"I want to talk about money," she said. "I've opened a bank account. Let me have all you can save. It'll soon mount up."
She had opened the bank account. But it was my money that would be paid into it.
"I've got good news," she announced as we walked to the pad. "I'm doing everything to help you, yet you can't even be on time!"
I looked duly chastened for being five minutes late. "What's the good news?"
"Sergeant Tompkins retires at the end of the month."
"Who's Sergeant Tompkins?"
"I told you about him!" she said irritably. "You never listen to anything. Our office block is closed from eight in the evening until eight the following morning. We've a night watchman from midnight until eight. But from eight in the evening. until midnight, it's Sergeant Tompkins. Now he wants to retire."
"So what?"
"I can get you the job!" she thrilled. "The extra money will make a tremendous difference. After you leave your office you can have a quick supper and get there by eight o'clock. You'll be finished at midnight."