The Boo of Ruth: Coming Fast

Author's note: This episode of an extended romantic memoir includes mature and group sex, and incest, and heavy-duty teasing, and wanton disregard for propriety. This tale is probably somewhat fictional. All sexual acts involve conscious, willing humans of age 18+.

You don't NEED to read the previous episode, THE BOOK OF RUTH: BEFORE RUTH, but it won't hurt. Your feedback is appreciated.

***** THE BOOK OF RUTH: Coming Fast *****

-- 1978 -- Summertime

You may have heard the term "family circle", meaning a gathering of kin, or just your immediate cluster of relatives. Me and my sister Jill and our mom Nina preferred a slightly different definition.

We were in our cozy little family circle, lying on the Cal-King bed in Jill's brilliant bedroom. I licked Nina's puffy pussy while she ate her daughter, who was slurping my cock nicely. We were all groaning by now. We sure do love our triad daisy chains!

My tongue softly circled and probed the labia through which I had passed on my entry into this world. My sister's generous mouth was a bottomless chasm engulfing my cock. I could tell from Jill's fluctuating suction that our mother's mature tongue was working magic upon her daughter's pussy.

Our three simultaneous orgasms were not products of fate nor circumstance, but of many long hours of practice. Practice makes perfect, you bet!

Alas, life is never perfect, and learning that is a tough lesson. We need to experience contrasts before we can start to judge reality. We do not really know the good if we have not known the bad. Unless and until we touch the depths, we do not appreciate the heights.

I have been skimming the higher realms most of my life, thank you kindly. I have seen enough to appreciate the contrasts. I like being where I am. Fuck the lowlights.

My über-smart two-years-older sister Jill is my slave master, and my muse, and my best friend for always. Since I recently turned eighteen, she is also my lover. So is our mom, Nina, who has been Jill's lover since she reached adulthood. We kids had been raised naked. We did not wear clothes inside our home. We had slept together naked all our lives, Jill and I, and often with Mom. And now we shared physical love.

Not that I would want to marry or even go steady with either. They are just lots of good sexy fun, as well as being family. Yes, they are almost always available. They are cheap dates, too.

What more could a guy ask for? (Heh heh...)

Let me introduce us again. Jill and I are tall and slim, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. She is almost six feet high; I have a few inches on her, and a few pounds, and better body strength.

People say we are good-looking: taut muscles, sharp features, high cheekbones, dimpled chins, good teeth, and full-body tans. Jill has great firm tits and I don't, so we're easy to distinguish. Her hair is longer, too. She looks like Mom (I mean Nina) minus eighteen years. In other words, just fucking gorgeous.

Jill and I had returned to our familiar Santa Monica home from our fun- and sex-filled drive to Taxco [TOSS-koh]. (See the previous episode for details.) That vertical Guerrero town between Mexico City and Acapulco is where Jill buys silver, jewellery and regional crafts for her business. She obtains amber, coral, turquoise, jade, and other stones elsewhere.

Yeah, it was Jill's business. I would eventually own a share. But for now, I had a job, managing Jill's Los Angeles area sales network, mostly street carts and booths at weekend events. She recruited vendors from her school contacts.

-----

I lounged by the pool at my cousin Doug's Venice Beach apartment block. We sipped beer, toked primo, munched bar nuts, and idly watched nearly-naked females enter and exit the water and air. Doug wiped Schlitz foam from his blond handlebar moustache.

"So how's this business thing going, cuz?" Doug asked.

"Pretty good, pretty good." (toke) (hold) (exhale) "I'll stay busy till I start at UCLA this fall. I'll have to cut back some then. It's good for now." I took another sip of brew. "And it's all about the people. One of our best vendors is Rachel, a senior at Fairfax High. Lots of her fellow students love Taxco silver rings, earrings, pendants, ornaments, that kinda stuff. She's right there for them."

"So this Rachel, is she hot, or what?" (toke)

"Rachel is like a preview edition of her MILF mama Deborah. Deb, er I mean Mrs Shapiro, looks awful damn good herself. They both have great tits, fine legs, firm butts, hourglass figures, just the kind you like, you dawg." (toke) (hold) (exhale) "I like'em too. I've had a few sessions with Rachel. Mmmm..."

"What, you fuck the employees? That can't be good, business-wise or legally, yeah? Especially the jailbait. Better leave her for me, heh heh." (toke) My cousin could be a pig sometimes.

"Naw, our vendors are 'independent contractors' and over eighteen. No legal problems -- Jill had the legality checked out. We're cool there. I just make sure my Rachel sessions are extra-curricular."

"Mr Shapiro doesn't have a shotgun, I hope."

"Oh, worse than that, he's a lawyer." (shudder) "But Rachel's an adult, and she can do what she wants, as long as she's not too obvious around the house. Y'know, don't scare neighbors or passers-by, don't attract cops, don't wreck the furniture, that sorta thing. So we're discreet." (toke)

I also screwed Rachel's mom Deborah at their house, but I didn't tell Doug that. He did not Need To Know, right? And I could save those stories for later.

--- Meet the Shapiro gals ---

I made my daily rounds all summer. On alternate days I hit Los Angeles County beaches and attractions, then Orange County beaches and amusement parks. I hooked up with Rachel a couple times each week, and with her mom Deb whenever the mister was out of town and the kids were away somewhere.

Jill introduced me to Rachel after we returned from the Taxco drive. She drove me in her hopped-up smuggler-ized VW Bug down from West Hollywood. Its swapped-in turbocharged Porsche engine whispered a low thrum. Its secret compartments were empty till we needed their stealthy capacity again.

We pulled up to a capacious house on a big fenced and landscaped lot. Jill led me to the porch and hit the buzzer. A tall dark girl about our age opened the front door. Like us, she wore the standard uniform of suggestive shorts, blatant tee, and bright sneakers. Her long walnut-brown hair hung in a ponytail.

"Hi Jill, how ya doing?" the girl greeted and embraced my sister. "And who's this hunk of handsome here?" She ran her fingers up my biceps. I flexed immodestly and leered.

"This is my little brother Randy. He'll be running the sales network here. From now on, he's your tough boss, your teacher, your uncle with a heart, your enforcer, your gritty guru. He be The Man!" Jill laughed at that. Rachel joined her.

"And Randy, in case you couldn't guess, this is Rachel Shapiro, the star of our show, and the best damn street vendor in town! We ain't rich yet, but she sure helps."

Jill looked at her wristwatch. "And I'd love to hang around to chat, but I have to run an errand. Look guys, why don't you two get acquainted, and I'll be back in a couple hours, okay?" She usually phrased her direct orders as requests. Nice boss.

Jill sped away. (Yes, with that blown Stuttgart mill inside, the Bug *did* zoom off quickly.) I left my red Keds at the doorway and padded inside in socks. Rachel took my hand and led me into the large modern kitchen. "Like a soda or something?"

"Sure, anything but Doctor Pepper. I hate carbonated prune juice."

"Silly boy, that's just an urban legend! How about some Canada Dry? Maybe with a splash of gin?"

"Sure, thanks. That reminds me of the old story about the guy who tried to drink Canada dry. He died of liver failure, heh-heh." I smirked as she handed me a tumbler. Mmmm, big splash of gin there. This could be interesting.

"Oho, so you're a funny guy, too! Jill told me all about you. ALL about you, got that?" Rachel brushed the back of her hand across my crotch. She aimed an evil smile at me. We drank our cold drinks and chatted till they were gone. I felt warm.

"Now c'mon with me, let's get acquainted just like the boss said to." Rachel grabbed my growing boner through my denim cutoffs and dragged me to her bedroom.

I was a bit nervous. "Ummm, just *what* did Jill say about us?" Our Mom had raised Jill and I alone since our dad ran off with a Thai waitress a decade or so ago. She raised us to be discreet. Somehow, blabbing about incest didn't seem too discreet.

Rachel stood me next to her bed. She grabbed the bottom of my black RAMONES tee and started lifting it up. I raised my arms; she peeled me like a steamed crawdad.

"Oh, just that she's seen you in action a couple times, and the girls you were with seemed more than slightly happy," she said as she put my hands on the hem of her form-fitting ochre DEATH VALLEY tee, dimpled by two hard nipples, "and that I should give you a try."

Rachel's tee sent an ambiguous message. Which "Death Valley" was meant? A chasm of doom between her breasts? Or between her thighs? Or did she just like the desert? Oh well, worry about that some other time...

I raised her tee. Rachel's large firm stand-up-on-their-own breasts no more needed a bra than did my own manly chest. "So I decided to give you a try. You any good?"

I didn't speak. I just pulled her close and French kissed her while massaging those big impressive melons. It was a mostly gentle massage that synchronized with our tongue-lashing and moaning. Big soft brown aureoles like beaded pads; stiff pencil-eraser nipples; cushiony warm flesh. Handfuls of happiness!

"You like how those feel, guy? I sure like how you're feeling them!"

Rachel's hands worked my belt loose and dropped my khaki cutoffs and black briefs to the floor. I released her awesome twosome and did the same with her shorts and panties. We stood breast-to-chest with our hands at each other's fuzzy pubes.

I kissed around those terrific tits. Rachel ventilated. I inhaled one nipple, then the other, amid her gasping. I pinched her unoccupied nipple and bit the other. She groaned happily. She pulled me onto the bed, on my back, and straddled my hips. Damn, this girl was fast! Nimble and limber, too.

"Don't mind me, I get real horny sometimes," Rachel said, aiming my titanium-hard cock at her hungry pussy. She flexed her legs, dropped directly, and firmly impaled herself on me. "Oh fuck yeah, Randy!" she wheezed. I hoped L.A.'s smog didn't give her emphysema.

Rachel pushed herself up and down on my slippery shaft. Her breasts swayed elliptically, enticingly. She moved faster. And faster. And she drove herself to a fast loud orgasm. "Oh fuck! Oh yeah! Oh shit! Oh oh oh! AAAHHHHH!!!" She gurgled and shook and fell off me, groaning.

I was a bit worked up by now. I mean, my blood was POUNDING and BOILING! I shoved Rachel onto her back, spread her legs, and dove in head-first. No face mask, no snorkel, no SCUBA gear, no fucking fins, just a nice clean low-dive into oblivion.

In the ancient Greek colony town of Paestum, Italy, not far east from Vesuvius, is a famous and captivating funerary painting of a naked man, or his soul, diving into eternity. I felt like that, but alive. I was diving into Rachel.

I wanted a good taste. I licked around and into her pussy, soaking my face with her spicy cum. I sucked her labia, left, then right. "Ooohhh..." I tongue-fucked her. "Ah. Ah. AH! AHH!" I moved to her clit and attacked. She screamed and flowed and flopped around.

"OH FUCK, RANDY! OH OH OH, OH SHIT, OH FUCK, OH HOLY SHIT RANDY, OH OH, AAHH!"

Now it was MY turn. Foreplay was finished. I pulled Rachel's spread knees up over my shoulders and entered her without hesitation or doubt. I pushed in fully, pulled out nearly all the way, then shoved back into her and started pounding. And continued pounding. And pounding. We spewed obscenely wet squishy sounds. Yowzah!

I wasn't clock-watching so I can't say just how long I fucked Rachel. Nor did I count her screams. But that full-on fuck and my ensuing orgasm-plex left bruises.

To Jill, "get acquainted" seems to mean "fuck yourselves unconscious." Right on!

Rachel and I cuddled. Oh, so nice and soft and warm! She peered into my face. Her dancing eyes swirled and sparkled like morning stars.

The house was suburban-quiet after our noisy coupling. We lazily cleaned up, and dressed, and sucked more ginger ale (minus gin), and didn't even try to look innocent when Jill returned. Jill just said, "Yeah, I *thought* you two would do okay."

We talked business for a while. Rachel hugged and kissed us both goodbye. I got the slurpy-gropey version. Hey, will all our business meetings be like this?

-----

Sometimes I met Rachel at her sales cart, and we were mostly business. Sometimes we met at her home, and we were mostly sexual. And sometimes Rachel wasn't home.

Business was good enough that Jill bought us each a slightly-used (and fully-depreciated) SAAB 99 Turbo for driving that didn't include border crossings. (The SuperBug was our trans-border hauler.) Her SAAB was painted gold, mine was only silver. Think she was pulling rank?

I drove my SAAB to the Shapiro house one afternoon. The front door was opened, not by Rachel, but by her mom Deborah ("Call me Deb"), as fine and foxy a MILF as I've ever encountered. She wore a thin lime-green just-above-the-knees halter-top sun dress today. Like her daughter, Deb was tall, dark, aquiline, curvy, radiant, sharp.

Deb was also observant. "You've been having a good time with my Rachel, haven't you? Don't think I haven't noticed. Yes, I can see, hear, and smell." Her pointed appraising gaze bored right through me, stripping away my secrets. Not that I minded much.

I left my shoes at the door. "Come with me, boy," Deb said. She took my hand and led me into the spacious modern living room. She sat me in the middle of a long couch and settled next to me.

Deb's dress rode up to mid-thigh, revealing exquisite tennis-mom legs. She placed my hand on her bare thigh. My jeans shorts had risen above my own knees; her other hand settled on my thigh flesh and its thin coat of short dark hairs. I am not quite a furry.

"Randy, I am a desperate woman. I have needs, needs my workaholic husband doesn't fulfill. He's certainly fulfilling his own needs with some of his secretaries and clerks anyway. I don't care about that, as long as we can live the way we do here.

"He won't divorce me and run off with some young slut. This is California, and he can't afford a community-property settlement, giving me half of everything. So we just live our own lives, sometimes under the same roof, this roof here. Sometimes not. He's gone so much lately, it's mostly 'not'.

"Randy, I told you that I am a desperate woman, and I know you are a hot young man. I know you're used to young girls, girls your own age, girls like Rachel who'll do anything for you, to harvest your orgasms. I'm not so young. But I'm in damn good shape. Randy, I want you to fuck me, fuck me like you do your young girlfriends."

She didn't add, "Fuck me like you fuck my daughter Rachel," but that message was strongly implied.

Deborah stood and slid the sundress over her head. She wore nothing underneath. She needed nothing. Her body was a bit fuller and softer than her daughter's, half her age, but not by much. Rachel was a beautiful young girl. Deb was a stunning mature woman in her physical prime. Probably her sexual prime too. Oh boy!

"Randall Orson van Ronk at your cervix, ma'am!" I punned. Deb laughed.

I stood beside Deb. She reached to my belt. My shorts and briefs hit the ground as I skinned my red A CLOCKWORK ORANGE tee over my head.

We stood naked together. Deb pushed against me, pulled my head down with one hand, my mouth to hers, and grabbed my butt with her other hand, shoving my crotch into hers. My cock had reacted naturally, of course. I nestled stiffly in her wiry muff.

I briefly admired Deborah's fine, feminine, well-exercised body; she likewise gazed at my athletic form. I'm no jock but I do run cross-country and practice martial arts. My tall nakedness was pretty impressive, if I do say so myself.

Enough with preliminaries. Deb was as demanding as her daughter, and as direct. She shoved me back onto the couch and mounted me like fucking Calamity Jane. She rode me hard and put me away wet. I nearly bucked her off a few times, but she stayed in the saddle and whinnied like a champion.

She enraged me. I snorted and fumed. After Deb's nth set of screams, I slipped my steel-hard rod out of her, flipped her over the couch's padded arm, face and belly down. I re-entered her from behind, firmly, not too gentle, not too bestial, but with determination, and some bit of self-control, and HOT FUCKING LUST!

Her athletic hips made fine handholds as I pistoned into her. She could not escape. Not that she tried, hey?

My blood-filled battering ram pounded away. Deb's vagina was a tender tactile treat. Not too loose, not too tight, just smooth and wet enough, and hungry for my meat. I felt her well-exercised cuntal muscles contract and grab my cock. That finished me.

I came like thunder. I stood stock still with every buzzed muscle tensed-up tight while volumes of my hot lust shot into this sultry MILF's inviting interior. I coated and filled her living womb. We overflowed. I collapsed heavily onto her, my not-yet-soft cock still inside and thrashing.

Deborah cried continuously through all this. Her weeping refrain was content-less, incomprehensible, with various syllables sounding like my name, and 'fuck' and 'oh', and maybe some Yiddish. Okay, so I didn't catch the words, but I sure got the spirit of her message.

We lay together for some minutes sharing sweat, breath, and full-body contact.

Deborah kissed me softly. "Holy fuck, boy, that was the best orgasm I've had in years!" She held me close, then pulled my head down to her ample breast. I smiled and nibbled and licked. "You *do* know how to treat a woman!" she murmured. I moved to her other breast. She sighed. "Oh shit, you're sending shockwaves to my pussy."

Deborah pushed me back and moved her face to my crotch. She held my now-limp cock close for a critical visual inspection, then opened her mouth and licked off our combined juices. "Mmmm, we taste good." She resumed licking, then swallowed me.

I was just eighteen years old. I responded rather quickly.

"Again?" Deborah asked.

"Fuck yeah!" I replied.

Deb spread her lovely legs to me. I climbed aboard. We fucked each other's brains out for another hour at least. Brains? What brains?

Yes, we became well acquainted. And we met regularly after that.

-----

Gentle Readers, you may be entertaining serious thoughts right now. Thoughts about cuckoldry, about preying on cheating wives. Did I cuckold Mr Shapiro?

Well, I was the seduced, not the seducer. She was the one who said, "Fuck me." So I can claim it was his wife who cuckolded him, and I was just the tool. Whatever. And he had been fucking around, or so she said. Was anyone a victim here? Was this all just victimless, meaningless, blameless fun?

Look at me. Here I am, a vigorous young man with normal hormones and a firm moral upbringing. Mom (I mean Nina) raised Jill and me to be thoughtful, caring, responsible, respectful, and discrete. Don't hurt others -- unless they really deserve it!

Did I approach Mrs Deborah Shapiro with intent to lure her away from her husband, or trick or force her to betray him, or otherwise break-up their happy stable marriage? Not at all! I was offered a gift, the gift of her body, on her own terms. I accepted.