Poncho Ilia - With this ring, I thee lust

"It was the same doctor," I said. "I talked to him. I asked him if he was going to do the same thing to me he'd done to mama." I was remembering it, then, and it made me angry all over.

"What do you know about such things?" the old bastard asked me.

I'd been waiting for a long time to tell that old bastard off. My mama had few pleasures in life, but she loved little babies and if it had been up to her she would have had a dozen. But they took that pleasure away from her, my father and the doctor.

"I know you fixed my mama so she couldn't have kids and you knew all along that she couldn't pass along her feeble-mindedness, because it was some pill pusher like you who did it to her in the first place, yanking her out of the womb with a pair of pliers or something and doing brain damage." "You're a sassy little snit," he said, all insulted.

"And you're one of those bigoted bastards who goes around yelling about welfare and how we welfare people should be forced to get off our asses and go to work. You're the kind who says sterilize the welfare people to stop welfare from becoming a way of life. Well, you silly sonofabitch, here's your chance. Fix me. Then you can be sure I won't be bringing any little bastards into the world for you to have to lay welfare on."

He punched a needle into me and I yelped, because I knew the bastard hurt me deliberately. He said, "Unless it is absolutely necessary it would be illegal for me to sterilize you. It could be that your condition has already done the job."

As it turned out, my condition had. I came out permanently free of the worry of ever having a baby. In the hospital, I thought about it, and regretted it a little. I felt I'd lost something. I didn't crave any babies then, but you never know. But then, as I healed, I began to think that if there really was something to this screwing thing that I might be better off the way I was. I got hot just days after the operation, when I was still in the hospital, and I couldn't even play with myself.

The doctor didn't see any of my family. No one bothered to come into the hospital, except my mother on the morning of the operation and he didn't see her then. She just found out that I was still alive and would be all right and went back home, so no one knew that I'd been fixed so that I'd never get pregnant.

I remember how the doctor put on this pious act about being sorry and I laughed at him. Then he told me that I couldn't do anything strenuous, like sweeping, for six weeks. That suited me. I don't know if his examination showed him that I wasn't virgin or if he merely assumed that I wasn't since I was just white trash. I don't think he'd have been able to tell, really, because Ruf had just fucked me twice when I was a kid and that had been years, so I assume he just thought that Juby Gore's girl would not be. At any rate, he said, "And no sexual intercourse. Do you know what that means?"

"You mean I can't get laid," I said, trying to shock him. He had a shit of a daughter in school. She was just a year older than I and she was one of the queen bees and I hated her guts, so I said and did everything I could to shock him. Well, I was remembering all that with old Ruf scratching my muff and grinning and then his fingers went down and felt my twat.

"They didn't take the most important part," he said.

As I've said, Ruf was big for his age. He'd dropped out of school and was working for a bulldozer man, and he did a lot of muscular things in his work which had built up his already good body. That night, when he came in, I'd already had my bath. By that time Juby had gotten prosperous stealing waterpumps. He had installed a waterpump for us and for the first time we had running water in the house and even a John. So I was clean. Rubbing his fingers around my twat, Ruf grinned down at me. Then he did a sexy thing. It was the sexiest thing he'd ever done and one of the sexiest I'll ever see. He took his finger, wetted by my twat, and smelled it. He closed his eyes and sniffed and said, "Ah," and then he looked at me and grinned.

There was the light by my bed. He was buck naked. And he was built. I looked and saw that his cock had begun to throb and was lifting itself. It was one helluva lot bigger than it had been back in the days when he had me play with it for him. "Too bad," he said.

"What's too bad?" I asked, this funny feeling all over me. I was lying with my legs apart, the men's pajamas open to show my mowed mound. "Too bad you're my sister," he said. "Didn't bother you once," I said.

"That was before old John Henry got loaded," he said, grinning. Old John Henry was now fully hard, standing up arrogantly against his belly just about even with my face. "He's loaded now and I'm not going to risk knocking up my own sister."

He was still plaving with my twat and Miss Twat was feeling it. She was gooing for him. Remember, I hadn't even so much as played with myself for seven weeks. I had night dreams now and then and had a climax in my sleep, but that was not for real. That was just nature's way of keeping down the sexual tension.

"Ruf," I said, my heart pounding, "you wouldn't have to worry."

"Huh?" His hand was down there, his finger easing into my slit. I did nothing to stop him. Jesus, it felt good, his finger going in, lubricated by all my flowing juice.

"I told you they did the damned same thing to me that they did to mama. I can't have kids."

I saw his eyes take on a gleam. He cupped his hand and drove his finger all the way up my cunt to my ovaries and rubbed his palm on my clit and my hips, knowing what to do even if I didn't, lit up and lifted and pushed and squirmed. "You sure?" he asked.

"Lead pipe cinch," I said. I wanted him to do it some more, run his finger up me. I'd run my own finger up me and I knew that if he kept it up for a while I'd blow my fuse.

"You ever done it, Ruby?" He was working on me and my hips were dancing. "I mean with anyone but me?" "Never," I said.

"I know I used to promise you it'd be good, but you were too young. It'd be different now." "O.K.," I said.

He flushed and shivered and threw-himself down onto the bed. He still had his finger up me. He put his nose and mouth on one of my knockers and chewed it through the pajama top. His entire body was quivering.

I don't remember Ruf ever kissing me. He would guide one tit into his mouth and chew on it and he'd cup the other and squeeze it. That night I had my tits chewed for the first time and, wow, I found out that they were something else, those mounds on my chest. I found out they were for something other than to hold the front of a sweater out. I was moaning and groaning and wiggling and his finger was up me and giving me a wild ass. I made him switch and chew the other. He'd opened the pa jama top and was going at them good.

I've talked about my wetness. Some women are dry. Some are wet. The wet ones have a liberal flow of juices when they're hot. The dry ones are usually tender and sensitive. The wet ones are more apt to like having fingers and other objects tucked up into their twats. I'm one of them. I'm a wet one. I can ruin a pair of panties and, if the condition isn't fixed, I mean, if I get hot and don't have a chance to cool off in bed, I'm apt to flood my panties and have the hot juice working all the way through my dress.

I was a wet one that nigh,t with Ruf's finger up me. I was ready. I loved Ruf s big finger. It was much better than having my own finger up me. It was wild. His hand cupped, his social finger reaching up inside me, his palm on my dit. I fucked his hand and finger with all my might, discovering ways to sling my ass that I hadn't known existed but which came naturally for a sexy girl.

Then he claimed me. He went between my legs, having worked the pajamas off. He fell on me. I felt his wildness. I felt his weight. It was Ruf, I guess, who made me like rough men, men who don't worry about supporting their weight on their elbows. I want a man all over roe, his weight smothering me, his weight helping his cock drive into me. I want to feel all of him.'