Chapter 4: Cravings

Life goes on. Does it? Finish the thought, finish the statement. Life goes on ... AS... ? Needs completion you see? As best we can? As prophesied? As funds become available? As usual? Maybe for you. My present life is totally alien to all I knew prior to a few weeks ago. Happily married, and how fortunate I am! For us, life goes on becoming more intense every day. The us is my incredibly sexy wife Ruthie and me, and the how-to lessons in pleasing her do go on, but in advanced techniques and exercises. Such an unusual sad-lucky fortunate series of events presented me with the greatest treasure on earth. Sweet Ruthie became my wife. Who would dare ask for more?

If there is a manual or text book, maybe a sex book, Ruthie uses for training me, then the current chapter would be headlined ‘SELF CONTROL’ I suspect. My craving for Ruthie is near insatiable.

Ruthie laughs heartily when I ask teasingly, and just joking, if she has a hidden book she follows as a lesson guide.

“You delight my heart, my darling young man. Certain I couldn’t possibly love you more, you now reveal an unsuspected new aspect of yourself. That new knowledge expands my heart with pride and joy, and love rushes in to flood the new space. Now I suddenly love you even more. I was at my heart’s full capacity before and my heart just increased. Come to me, my precious boy/man. Hold me!”

Running to her, we are immediately locked in each other’s arms, caressing each other’s hair, face and limbs as we continue the conversation. This is repeated constantly all day long, unwilling to be physically apart for long.

“You are very intuitive and perceptive, and I love you more for it. Yes. Oh yes indeed! There are books, many books, some very ancient, others modern, about exotic, erotic, male to female relations.

Would you like to read them with me? We must bring them here, available for study. We’ll hire a wagon, and fetch them home.

When I was widowed, I locked them away in a trunk. They are torture for a solitary woman to read. They induce unfulfillable yearnings and cravings. Now that I have you, my young stalwart, let’s retrieve and open the chest again and revel in the treasure inside.”

“You continually surprise and delight me also, Ruthie. Was lust an incentive for you to invite Ellie and me into your home? Please, don’t be offended, you’re the dearest part of my life. It’s only curiosity, not criticism or judgment of you.”

“Again intuitive and perceptive. Lord knows I lusted for you. The unattainable, the forbidden fantasy, the old woman lusting after an adolescent boy. But then a miracle of miracles, hallelujah! You were placed in my path, and given to me in marriage so I didn’t need to sin, and I’m eternally grateful. And such a beautiful virile young man you are, I never even imagined. How could I imagine unseen, how well equipped you are my darling? You are a blessing and a relief for me. We are the perfect ages for each other. Both of us just entering our most sexually voracious eras of our lives. Life is good?”

“Very good!”

“Would you define our life together as connubial bliss?”

“Probably, if I knew what that meant.”

“How can you think it’s probable without knowing the meaning?”

“By the tone of your voice when you said ‘connubial bliss’ it was obviously a good thing to you, so I feel confident it’s good for us both. Probably, if I interpreted your tone correctly.”

“That’s very odd, Sean.” (I shrug for lack of other response.)

“You don’t understand how odd that is?” (negative shake of my head)

“The oddity is, you trust me more than yourself.”

We stare deep into each other’s eyes. Hers searching for indication I understand and mine look upon her with confidence she will explain.

“You don’t completely trust yourself to accurately identify my tone, but you implicitly trust my values judgment. I thank you for your unreserved trust in me. It’s endearing. Your judgment of my tone was perfect. You need to develop more confidence in your own excellent judgment.”

“Okay.”

“And we need to resume your education where your mom left off.”

“Okay.”

“How far did you progress?”

“Ellie was in grade five and I was grade six.”

“Poor Ellie!”

I’m not sure Ellie needs pitying. She may be enjoying a version of what I’m enjoying, if she’s with a considerate and rich lover.

“Do you think Ellie may still be alive?”

“Hope so.”

“Do you miss her terribly?” (I shrug)

“What do you miss most about Ellie?”

‘Wrestling with her.”

“Fighting?”

“No, though sometimes it started with an argument. The wrestling was more ... like sport, competition, I think.”

“Was she a worthy opponent?”

“Hmmm, she gave as good as she got. I guess.”

“Did Ellie enjoy wrestling with you?”

“She usually started it.”

“Show me. Pretend I’m Ellie, and show me how you wrestled.”

“Well, I would grab her wrists to prevent her scratching me or pulling my hair.”

“Okay, you control my wrists. What if I sink and drag you down with me?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“It’s natural to use gravity to advantage against a stronger opponent.”