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Subject: {Jack} "Ruthie" (6/6) (MF, Mf, pedo/teen, inc, preg, true)
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===== Ruthie, by 'Jack' (part 6 of 6) =====


RUTHIE SIX
	 I felt guilty but had to do something. My Ruthie was bringing 
her father home this morning and I was going to stay in the house and 
see what happened. Please understand: I wasn't planning a confrontation 
or anything like that; I just had to help myself if I could. Perhaps if 
I could hear them and see what their relationship was like it might give 
me some ideas.
	There'd be no trouble if I were careful. The house was almost a 
mansion, with a central upstairs hall surrounded by bedrooms, most now 
unused. They connected to the ones on either side through a big closet 
or a shared bathroom. You could circle the second floor and never step 
into the hall. For quick flight, windows opened onto porch rooves in 
front and back. I planned to be quiet, but there were plenty of routes 
if I had to retreat.
	The closet between Ruthie's father's room and one that stored 
old furniture would be my hiding place. An unused bedroom just beyond 
the storeroom gave onto the back porch roof. Its window was open for 
emergency use and went downstairs. I drove off and parked several blocks 
away, returning on foot. Once inside I locked both doors and settled 
down to wait.
	Memories of Ruthie filled my mind as I sat on the window seat 
and watched through the curtain. Our relationship couldn't stay like 
this, hiding and seeing her just when she could slip away from him. It 
had to grow. I wanted Ruthie for myself. I loved Ruthie now.
	The pictures in her baby book came to mind, and Ruthie in front 
of the fireplace. How I wish I could have known her then. I recalled our 
time at the lake, and replayed the dream of my non-existent daughter and 
Ruthie's sweet awakening. I nearly failed to notice when the car drove 
up.
	Shoes off, I ran to my hiding place in the closet.
	The house was solidly built; and though I heard the door open 
and close, their voices were inaudible. I hoped they would come upstairs 
soon. If Ruthie's father chose one of the downstairs couches then all 
this was for nothing. I was betting he'd want to rest in his room.
	Pretty soon I could tell they were coming upstairs. I closed the 
closet door to a tiny crack and cursed as the damned thing squeaked. 
Should I close it all the way? But I had to see!
	The door from the hall was hidden from me, but I heard Ruthie 
fussing at him for not leaning on her and for going too fast.
	"Leave me alone, princess," his voice was now in the room. "I'm 
not a crippled old man, just a bit tired." Then I could see him and part 
of her. He was easing down to the bed and sat on the edge. "Ruthie, how 
about helping me with this shirt?" She unbuttoned it and slipped it off 
his shoulders. His bare back was my next view.
	"Let's get your pants off, Daddy," Ruthie said as he lay back. I 
heard him chuckle.
	"Never could stay out of them, could you, princess?"
	Ruthie snickered. "If you weren't in such a mess I'd pull them 
up over your head." But I could see that she handled him gently.
	Finally he lay on the bed and let out a deep breath.
	"Whew, princess. That's some better now." He lay there in his 
old-fashioned boxer shorts while Ruthie pulled the dress over her head 
and threw it out of my range of vision. Five more seconds and she was 
naked. There she finally was, in person with her father and the truth of 
what they had been doing for ten years came to me. This was the girl who 
had born her father's child to get rid of her mother.
	A tidal wave of depression rolled over me. What action of mine 
could possibly break this bond?
	Ruthie was down on the bed. As I watched, she eased her father's 
shorts off and removed his socks. Now father and daughter were naked 
together in the bed where I could never be. I was both fascinated and 
repelled. The old man's dick was growing. Ruthie started singing a song 
to him, so softly that I couldn't make it out. Then she took her
father's dick in her hand and begin to rub up and down its length. It 
wasn't long before he was hard. And so, I am ashamed to admit, was I.
	Ruthie crawled up on the bed. "Be still, Daddy," she whispered. 
"I'll do everything." She straddled his hips and lowered herself. 
Aroused and shocked, I watched her slip him into her all the way. She 
sat there playing with the hair on his chest.
	He suddenly laughed and looked up at her. Then he spoke. "Taking 
advantage of a helpless old man, huh? What's the matter, Princess, isn't 
Jack keeping you satisfied?"
	I was had been leaning against the doorjamb and learned at that 
moment the meaning of a `heart leaping up into one's throat.' I damn 
near fell forward out of the closet and into the room. Adrenalin flowed 
and my cock shrivled in fear.
	Ruthie laughed and tossed her hair back over her shoulders. "I 
already told you, Daddy. He keeps me satisfied all I want. But there's 
always going to be a place here for you." She began to rock slowly 
forward and back, gently fucking him. I wanted to get out of there but 
was frozen. If Ruthie had walked straight to the closet and opened the 
door, I don't think I could have moved an inch.
	"Have it your way, Princess," he said. "You feel mighty good to 
an old man. So...how is it with the young lovers?"
	Then as she fucked her father, Ruthie began to tell him about 
us. She recited all we had done since he had been in the accident. I was 
beyond understanding what was going on. Ruthie gently fucked her father 
and talked about me as she had so often made love to me and talked about 
him.
	She recounted what had happened this morning with us.
	"He was crying out in his sleep for his daughter to suck him, 
Daddy," she was saying, "he wasn't faking, he was really asleep. Maybe 
he was dreaming that he was you." The old man was slow to respond. 
Finally: "Well, Princess have you changed your mind?"
	"No, Daddy. He's the one. I'm sure he is. Daddy, I love Jack. 
And I think he loves me. I've told him everything. He's had plenty of 
chance to walk away and he doesn't. I think it will work."
	"Ruthie, honey, remember he's only the second young man you've 
known. You want to be sure. Princess, you want to be really sure. If he 
has accepted the truth then he's either as perverted as we are or he 
really loves you. But you have to be sure, honey. You don't want a 
marriage like mine to your mother, Ruthie. You want someone to love."
	Ruthie's voice rose. "We aren't perverted, Daddy. I love you and 
I won't ever quit loving you, but I love Jack, too. I haven't left out 
anything about us, Daddy, honest I haven't. He never lectures me or says 
anything bad about you. I've told him everything. Daddy, I know he's the 
one. I feel it. Jack Williams is the man I want to marry."
	Well, another cliche is in order here. Sorry, folks, but you 
really could have knocked me over with a feather when she let that one 
out. There she was tossing her hair around as she sat on her own 
father's cock. And she was telling him that she wanted to marry me. The 
conversation lagged for a minute.
	I was even peeking through the door now I was so much into my 
own thoughts. But when I looked back I could see why they weren't 
talking. The love-making was getting heavy and she was close to her 
climax. His hand was between her legs now and I guess he was putting his 
finger on her clitoris as I had sometimes done. Her head was thrown back 
and she was breathing loud and she was going faster and faster. I 
couldn't see it all but I knew she was close. Then she was screaming, 
"I'm coming, Daddy, oh, come too, Daddy, come in me Daddy," and she 
threw her body over his and was hugging him to her. She screamed again 
and I knew what her pussy was doing. It was sucking on her father's dick 
as it had sucked on mine. Then he was coming, too. I could tell because 
he was moaning and pushing back. I was watching Ruthie's father shooting 
himself inside his daughter, the woman I loved.
	Yes, in spite of it all, she was still the woman I loved. My 
dick was rock hard and I wanted to pull it out but I didn't dare. I just 
stood there as father and daughter came together. It should had been 
lewd, it should have made me want to throw up, but it didn't. Their love 
for each other was so palpable I could feel its reality.
	Crying, softly, I eased the door shut and went into the 
storeroom. No need to use the window. I walked down the stairs, out the 
back door and somehow found my car.
	I didn't go straight home. It was only eleven-thirty in the 
morning and there wasn't enough bourbon in the house for what I needed 
to do. There might not be enough in the entire state of Kentucky, but I 
settled for a half-gallon of Wild Turkey and went home.
	I couldn't think, I couldn't focus: my mind was too busy 
protecting me to allow time for thought. I added water to my first drink 
and noticed how badly my hands were shaking. I needed to think but I 
couldn't think. Whatever the hell was going on here I had no idea at 
all. I had wanted to witness them only to further my own cause. But what 
I had seen was so far beyond what I had expected that I just couldn't 
integrate it. Four drinks later I stopped shaking. Now sufficiently 
numbed, I began to asses the situation.
	Obviously -- Well, assuming I hadn't just watched a play put on 
for my benefit, and I doubted that -- obviously Ruthie had been as 
honest with her father about me as she had been with with me about him. 
It was beyond anything I could have dreamed. But did I feel a tiny bit 
proud of her for it? I didn't know yet.
	She sat in the bed with her father's dick buried to the hilt in 
the pussy I had sucked with love and told him that she loved me. Even as 
she fucked her own father she told him she wanted to marry me. It was 
too much. I made another drink, no water this time, just bourbon.
	This was a crazy girl, I told myself. That's no figure of 
speech. I mean to say that Ruthie was crazy. She had to be. Incest does 
that to you, I told myself, and fixed yet another drink. This girl would 
do anything to get what she wanted.
	But what had she really done? She had been completely honest 
with me about her father. and now I knew that she had been completely 
honest with him about me. He, not she, had said that I was only her 
second lover besides himelf. But he had been making it with his own 
daughter for ten years. I needed another drink; screw the water - I'll 
just keep the bottle, it's easier. How could she love him and do what 
she did with me? Hell, how could she love me and still keep on with him 
even when he was too sick to do anything but lie on the bed while she 
attacked him? I took a long swig.
	She was just a nympho. Needed it all the time. No, that's not 
true, she'd had no lovers but her Daddy and me, except for Robert.
	She was on a power trip needing to control her men. No, that was 
bullshit, too. She had never done that except to get rid of her mother. 
I threw back my head and laughed at what Ruthie had done to her mother.
	It was all so ridiculous that I could no longer think. The last 
thing I remember before passing out was wanting some food in my stomach. 
It was past lunch time and I was hungry. I think that I was laughing 
hysterically as I passed out in my chair.
	My head was knocking, pounding. Somebody was beating on it with 
a baseball bat. It was starting to bleed, I was being beaten to death. I 
almost jumped from the chair and I looked around, completely dazed. 
Someone was assaulting the knocker on the front door. I looked at my 
watch. It was seven thirty. I almost didn't go, I really didn't. I felt 
like my head was being tossed around inside a cement mixer. 
Mechanically, I made my way the few steps to the door and opened it, 
prepared to yell an obscenity at the salesman who had disturbed my 
drunken sleep. I peered out through the screen and saw a light blue 
dress, strands of blonde hair, a face I had trouble focusing on.
	"Jack, honey," I heard pounding into my brain like jolts of 
lightening. "Wow, Jack, what's the matter with you?"
	"Oh," I muttered as I let her in the door. "I just had a few 
drinks after work." She looked around and saw the bottle. I looked, too, 
and saw it was well over half gone.
	"All right, Jack," she said. "You go get a in a hot tub and I'll 
fix you something to eat." The thought of food was beyond me just then. 
She looked at my face and must have read my thoughts. "Well," she 
continued, "maybe the food can wait. C'mon Jack, let's go get a shower."
	I felt so bad that at first I didn't realize she was coming into 
the shower with me. She started the water as I stood there. As she was 
adjusting the flow she said quietly, "A good old toothbrushing might not 
hurt either, you know." The toothpaste tasted bitter but made me feel 
better. Then Ruthie started taking off my clothes. When she had finished 
with me, she quickly slipped off hers, too. "Well?" she teased.
	The water cleansed me in more ways than one. I get drunk about 
once a year, and never as I had that afternoon. I felt trashy dirty and 
the water helped. Ruthie and her bathcloth and her tongue helped, too. 
She worked on my back for long minutes, pulling the tension from my body 
and even a little of the pain from my head. Then she pulled my back 
against her front so I could feel her body against me. She began to soap 
my chest while she licked at my back. I couldn't even get hard because 
while it was certainly erotic, it was more relaxing than exciting and it 
was what I needed. I was a sick man and Ruthie was my nurse, helping me 
back to life. It was a slow and painful return but after all, I had 
brought it on myself.
	Finally her hands dropped and she started to feel my dick. She 
put the soapy cloth around it and gently played until I got hard. Now at 
least half-alive again I turned to her. Water glistened her breasts. Her 
hair was plastered to her head but she was as beautiful as ever.
	I gently pulled her mouth to mine. We must have kissed for five 
minutes or more with our arms around each other. Then slowly we began to 
explore each other's bodies. It was good. I might not have been able to 
think straight but I could feel. After a long time, Ruthie knelt down 
and took me in her mouth. I closed my eyes and felt the love she was 
giving me. I wanted to freeze time, to stop our lives forever at that 
moment. I wouldn't have to think anymore and I could just feel. It was 
unlike any oral sex I'd ever had. I didn't want to come, I just wanted 
it to continue. Ruthie didn't seem to be trying to make me come. It was 
an almost nonsexual act, just a love act. I lost track of time and 
floated, enjoying the love emanating from her. It was at the same time 
the best sex I ever had and also not sexual at all. There was no 
pressure, no attempt to make it better, no drive to climax. It was just 
what it was, Ruthie's expression of love for me -- and one of the most 
satisfying times of my whole life.
	I don't know how long it might have continued, but I have an old 
water heater and little by little the water grew colder. Temperature 
finally broke the mood and the feeling faded. What a loss. She started 
laughing with my dick still in her mouth and finally stood up.
	"I think," she said slowly, "that we better get out." I was 
starting to shiver and I closed the faucets. We dried ourselves, each 
with our own towel. Then I took her hand and wordlessly led her into the 
bedroom. We lay side by side for a while, not touching, just looking at 
each other. When the kissing and the touching began it was definitely 
sexual. Desire overshadowed my headache and soon we were thrashing 
around the bed like a couple of kids. When I finally entered her it was 
like coming home after a long trip to somewhere I hadn't wanted to go. 
It was our best sex ever, our own private trip into love and when it was 
over I felt empty and sad.
	Empty because I had given more to Ruthie that night than I ever 
had to anyone in my life. Sad because I finally began to consider the 
day's events. Ruthie curled up on my arm and nestled against me. I 
didn't know I was going to say it until I had already said it. It was 
like it wasn't me talking. I said to Ruthie, "I want to marry you."
	"I want to marry you, too." The answer was lazy and seemed to 
come from a long way off. It took me a minute to recognize that I had 
asked her and she had answered me. Then I was awake, alert, and my body 
tensed. She felt it. She started rubbing mt chest trying to relax me I 
think. I was silent but she spoke again. "Yes, Jack, I want to marry 
you." I abruptly sat up, breaking the spell.
	"Ruthie, what are you talking about?"
	She stretched like a cat and smiled, her head on the pillow 
beside me, her face framed by beautiful hair which was in ruins but was 
still erotic. Then she giggled.
	"Well, you just screwed up, didn't you, lover? You just proposed 
to me and I just said yes to you."
	The adrenalin hit me for the second time that day. "But what 
about your father?" I was hurt and distrustful, I had heard what they 
had said that morning. "Jack, he's known about us from the first night. 
He knows everything about you. Just as you know everything about us. You 
see, Jack, if it was going to work, both you and he had to know."
	I was dumbfounded. "But," I stuttered. "Why did you act like we 
couldn't let him find out about us?"
	She smiled up at me from the pillow. "Would you have kept seeing 
me if you'd known I was giving him a play-by-play account about us? I 
had to tell you about my father, Jack. It was too much a part of my life 
to hide. I had to know if you could accept it. But I had to share it 
with my Daddy, too, honey. I knew what you didn't know soon after we 
met. I knew that someday you might ask me. And I knew that if you ever 
did, that I'd say `yes.' You're the only honest man I've ever known 
besides my father. I'll marry you tomorrow if you want."
	I was silent. I tried a quick review of what I was about to do, 
but with the angel beside me in my bed, the girl I loved, the girl I 
wanted to marry, what review was necessary? Finally she broke the 
silence. Her wonderful eyes bored into mine.
	"Want to retract the proposal? One chance, Jack. Right now."
	I didn't hesitate; it wasn't necessary. "We just signed a 
contract, dear beautiful Ruthie," I whispered. "You can't get out of 
it."
	Oh, how good our embrace felt. She was real, a warm living 
person who would love me and have my children and grow old with me. Two 
"moments of a lifetime" in one night are too much for one person but 
I'll never forget our embrace in my bed that night. Finally she giggled.
	"Want to go meet my Daddy, now, Jack? He's waiting for us."

	Well folks, that's it. Ruthie and Jack were married four days 
later. Jack moved into the old mansion. A most improbable marriage began 
to grow and as of that date it is still growing. I have enjoyed sharing 
it with you. Let's wrap up with a few facts.
	I told you up front that this happened to a friend of mine. It 
did. It happened to my very best friend. It happened to my wife. Ruthie 
is my wife. You probably guessed that by now. It really was me all the 
time.
	I told you it was true. I have spoken as much of the truth as I 
can remember. I have told you no lies. Ruthie and I are what I have said 
we are. How can I write pornography about my own wife? I'll just say you 
would have to know us to understand.
	Why did I write it? I'm not really sure. I've asked myself the 
same question. Obviously Ruthie and I are both highly sexual people. She 
knows I'm writing this but hasn't yet asked to read it. Maybe one day 
she will. I'm glad to share it because it is a love story. But since I 
became involved with Ruthie, stories of incest and experiences of young 
girls turn me on. They really didn't before Ruthie, but they do now. 
Very often we pretend she is a young virgin. It gets us both off. Just 
as I love to look through Ruthie's baby book, I think someday soon she 
will ask to read this. As soon as I send it up to the board I plan to 
find her and tell her it's finished. She may even ask to read it 
tonight. She may read it before you do. Even as you read this, we may be 
making love while she reflects on what I have written about us.
	Does she still make it with her father? I think she probably 
does. The opportunity is there. I can't ask you to understand this or 
accept it, but I don't care. If I had to guess, I would guess they 
probably do on occasions. It doesn't concern me and I don't ask.
	Ruthie is -- as I write this final chapter on July 31, 1989 -- 
three months pregnant. She's 29 now. We have a two-year-old girl and a 
baby son, eleven months. The boy is dark like like me, but the girl is 
very fair. I wonder about her origins, but she is my daughter, no matter 
who the father is and I love her very much. She is a beautiful little 
girl. Already starting to look a little bit like her mother.
	What is the relationship between Ruthie's father and me? 
Strained, I guess I have to say. He is as friendly as anyone could ask, 
I just don't feel totally comfortable with him. It's getting better. 
Except for the socially "horrible" things he did with his daughter, he 
seems a well-adjusted man. That facet of my life will improve and I 
expect he will continue to live with us for the rest of his life.
	How goes the marriage? It gets better every day. Ruthie is an 
incredibly gifted lover; I sense that her enthusiasm is a result of her 
love for me. That love is returned without reservation. It may be one of 
the strangest marriages on record, but I bet it's better than most.
	One last comment before we leave each other. Just the facts, 
folks, that's all. And am I really telling the truth? Really?
	Obviously our names aren't Jack and Ruthie Williams. One last 
time before I go... Everything here is true. All of it. I hope your 
marriage is half as good as mine. If it is, hold onto it. Love is a 
precious thing no matter what manner of expression it takes or from what 
origins it arises. Thanks for listening. 

Jack 

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