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Ring Of Truth Blog free porn video
Ring of Truth
by obohobo
Warnings
Please take note!
The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly writtenfor adults only.
MF MC.
If you are underage or offended by such material -or- if viewing this fileis illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.
This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwiseis purely coincidental, etc.
Copyright 2005
Prologue
After finding the Ring of Truth and learning a little of its properties,I, Dr. Derek Meeks, decided to keep a sort of diary, a 'blog' of events surroundingits use in my life. At the same time I added excerpts from the leather bookthat came with the ring so they would be readily readable. For the time beingI am keeping the information in a protected file on my computer and, for reasonsthat will become obvious to anyone privileged to view them, I do not intendto print them out until I, like the previous owner, decide to put the ringin some safe place. That may not be for many years hence.
Dr. Derek Meeks.
P.S. (Later). I have now decided to anonymously publish an edited versionof the blog together with the excerpts from the book on a site I visit frequentlyand get much pleasure from reading the stories it contains. Names of people(including my own), and places have been changed but otherwise this is an honestaccount of my experiences with the ring. I have tried to write each blog asa readable narrative and have concentrated on the sexual aspects mainly becauseI know that it what readers visit this site for and because they brought methe greatest pleasure. I hope it will do the same for you.
Blog 1. Finding the ring
12th July 2004
"I promised Mrs. McCready you would help her move into her new house.You don't mind do you Derek?" It was typical of my mother to volunteerme without asking first.
"But I planned on going over to Sandswick this afternoon mother," Iprotested.
"Oh there'll be plenty of times you can go there. You've still two monthsleft before you start work and the woman really needs someone strong to helpher clear all the old stuff from poor Miss Read's old house. Finish your breakfast,I said you would be there about nine and it's past that now. You were up latethis morning." There was that hint of disapproval in her voice. "Iexpect she'll get you something for lunch and you can get a takeaway for dinner.I'll be at the bridge club until late."
I groaned and complained but there was no getting out of it. Mother was adamantthat I should help and despite all my arguments, insisted I go. It wasn't thatI really objected to helping, and I didn't dislike Mrs. McCready, if fact shewas quite a pleasant woman, but I did object to being put in a position whereI would be obliged to help whether or not I wanted to. The last few monthshad been stressful in the extreme but after many nights of burning the midnightoil, I was able to complete the research needed for my thesis. It worked outand I finally obtained my doctorate. I am now fully entitled to call myselfDr. Derek Meeks. Mother even got the photo of me wearing my mortarboard andgown in the local paper. For the time being though I just wanted to relax andmake the most of the free time before I took up a research post at DunchesterUniversity where I had spent the last five years as a student. It is only tenmiles away which meant I could and did live at home for the first four yearsof my course and save my accommodation expenses, but during that time I wasnever free of mother's influences. When I successfully obtained a grant andsponsorship for my post graduate research I was able to afford a room on thecampus but at the start of the new term I shall move into a house my predecessorin the post now occupies. His new job is taking him abroad for several years.
Glumly I walked the few hundred yards along the road to the fifteenth centuryhouse that had been Miss Read's home for as long as anyone could remember.The seemingly frail, bent old lady lived alone and had survived until one morningsoon after her ninety-eighth birthday, the milkman noticed the previous day'smilk hadn't been taken in. He alerted the police and they called her youngersister's son, Robert, who found Miss Read lying abed. She'd died peaceablyin her sleep. Her will left the house and contents to be shared between allthree of her sister's children but none of them wished to live in the damp,inconvenient old house. After dividing up any furniture and belongings thatwere deemed worth keeping, the remainder was left and the house put up forsale.
To Jean McCready, the building was a delightful example of a framed Tudorhouse. She loved the way the top storey overhung the ground floor and the quaintcarvings on the ends of the protruding floor beams. "It will need a lotof money spent on it to get it habitable by modern standards and of coursethere are restrictions on what you are allowed to do with an old building likethis," the estate agent had warned her, but money wasn't a problem. Shehad money in her own right and the inheritance from the death of her husbandmade her quite wealthy.
"She can afford to pay a firm to come in a clear the whole place," Imuttered as I sauntered along still cursing my mother for involving me, moreso because she'd sent me to work while she went and played cards with her friends.The front door, accessed by two stone steps directly from the pavement waswide open and a hire skip stood coned off in the road with a layer of rubbishalready covering the base. Climbing the steps I peered inside and called out, "Mrs.McCready!"
"Come in Derek, sorry I didn't mean to impose on you like this but yourmother insisted and wouldn't take no for an answer. Please feel free to goif you have other things planned. If you haven't then I could certainly usethe help. I'll pay you of course. I intended to go to the employment peopleto get someone but Miriam said…well you know your mother." Thewoman gave an impish grin.
"It's okay Mrs. McCready…"
"Jean please." The dumpy woman with the ready smile took my handand shook it. "It makes me feel old to be called Mrs. by someone as oldas you. I'm only forty-one for heavens sake!"
"Okay Jean, I'm here and I'll do what I can to help. No need to worryabout paying me. I sort of figured it was to be voluntary work or mother wouldn'thave suggested it." I couldn't help smiling at the woman clad incongruouslyin blue overalls wearing bright yellow rubber gloves and a red headscarf. Therewere already dirt smudges on her face. "What's to be done?" I askedas I donned my old white lab coat. By the state Jean was in, it wouldn't bewhite for long. Jean gave me a quick tour and at once I could see how neglectedthe place had been for many years. Threadbare carpets covered the floors, wallpaperhung in tatters from the walls and over all there was a dank musty smell. Jean'smind though, saw things as they would be after she had worked on the place.
"I want to do as much as I can myself," Jean told me, "There'llbe lots I can't do but the place will feel more mine if I do what I can andin any case, who knows, clearing a place like this might yield some treasures.Perhaps there will be some things I can take to the Antiques Roadshow and haveone of the experts tell me it is worth a fortune." I laughed with herat the thought of her appearing on the TV show with some little trinket thatwas held in awe by a bespectacled presenter. By then we were on the upstairslanding. "The first job will be to get the roof repaired and for thatthe workmen need to get into the attic. Rain comes through in several placesand that's made the house quite damp. All I can see by peering over the ledgeare a few boxes. I've bought a stepladder but it needs someone with a bit moreheight and more spring in their bum to get through the trap door to see what'sin there."
"Someone like me?" I questioned. She laughed.
An hour later I had an extension lead in the attic with a vacuum cleanerand a quartz halogen light plugged in. "There's a good wood floor withlots of boxes, some wood, some cardboard. Rain's made some places damp. Whereit's dry the place is covered with dust." I called down. "I'll Hooverthe boxes a bit and pass them down to you so you can sort through them."
By lunchtime we had a pile of boxes in what was the lounge. While Jean wentto the nearby baker's for sandwiches, I made tea and started looking throughthe boxes. Many were discarded clothes, papers and oddments of china. Some,where the roof had leaked, the water had got into the material and the clotheswere covered with mould, others were surprising dry and in good condition.We laughed and joked over our finds while we drank our tea. I declined theoffer of a box of old rag dolls. "You might want them in a few years time," Jeansuggested.
"Not much hope of that at the moment," I replied.
"No one special at the university then?"
"Nope. I don't really seem to get on with girls. Seem to say the wrongthings at the wrong time. In any case for the last few months I been well andtruly worked off my feet to finish my thesis."
Jean wanted to keep the paperwork, mainly old letters and bills, in casethere was something interesting historically concerning the house but muchof the stuff went straight into the skip. Nearly at the end of our break, Iforced open a wooden chest containing various items of jewellery. The lid waslocked but the joints at one corner had given way so I pulled the end off andtipped the contents on to the floor. Delightedly Jean and I picked them over.Amongst the items I picked out a small cardboard box no bigger than a packof playing cards. Inside nestled a signet ring and a small leather book. Fromthe start I sensed something strange about the ring. The metal still gleamedsilver whereas all the other silver jewellery in the box was tarnished to blacknessbut at first I just put that down to it having been inside the little box.The band was about 6 mm wide and inscribed with writing that I thought waspossibly Persian but which was unintelligible to me. Affixed to the band wasa squarish block with scalloped edges and only about 8 mm on each side in thecentre of which sat a small, slightly iridescent, greenish-yellow stone. Therewas nothing ostentatious about it and in fact most people hardly notice thatI am wearing it. It looks like an ordinary ring that could be bought cheaplyin any market. I slipped it on my index finger and held out my hand to showJean.
I was astounded. I heard Jean talking in my head but her lips weren't movingand she was engrossed in sorting through the jewellery.
Jeanlooked up and saw the ring on my finger and perhaps the look of bewildermenton my face. Tomy eyes the stone seemed to gently twinkle like the green neon on my computerwhen it is working but certainly not as brightly as that. "You okay?" sheasked in a normal voice and then she saw the ring and took my hand to seeit more closely. "That looks nice on you. Keep it Derek. I don't thinkit would suit me." We put the remainder of the jewellery in anotherbox ready for Jean to take home and stood to stretch our legs. We'd beensitting on the floor during our lunch break. "I suppose we ought toget a little more done. I can clean these things later," she suggested, "Youfeel like carrying on?"
"Yes, fine. Who knows what else we might find up there? Maybe some moredolls!"
We climbed the stairs again but all the while I kept hearing Jean's voicein my head commenting on the jewellery and what she might do with it and whatit might be worth. Twice I turned around to see if she was actually speakingbut she only looked at me in surprise. Could I really be hearing what she wasthinking? Could it be the ring? No, that would be too much like magic and magicdidn't exist. My scientific training tried unsuccessfully to find another explanation.I could test if it was the ring by removing it. By now I had ascended the stepladderand had my hands either side of the opening ready to spring into the attic.
The words in my head shockedme so much that I very nearly didn't make the jump into the attic. "CarefulDerek," Jean warned, "You sure you're okay?"
"Fine. Wasn't thinking what I was doing."
Islipped the ring into my pocket at that point and Jean's voice in my headceased. The boxes from immediately around the trapdoor had now all beenremoved but there were still a few at the far end of the attic. Below meI could hear Jean clearing one of the bedrooms. I slipped the ring on againbut couldn't hear Jean until I pushed the stone against the floorboardsmore or less above where she was. I could hear her thoughts but at a verymuch reduced level, a level so low that I almost had to stop breathingto hear them. Oddly, when I switched on the vacuum cleaner the voices inmy head were just as clear as it was when the noisy machine was off. Itseemed as if outside noises didn't affect my ability to receive messages,whereas internal noises like coughing and heavy breathing would. "CanI project my thoughts to her?" I wondered. So far I had seen no evidenceof it. Standing at the trapdoor I tried to send a thought message to askher to come to the steps but nothing happened although I could hear herdiscussing with herself was to do with the peeling wallpaper. "Bettertake the ring off for a bit," I told myself, "Otherwise I won'tget much done. Even as I cleaned the attic and moved the remaining boxesto near the trapdoor, I couldn't help wondering how the ring worked andwhat difference it might make to my life. My thoughts also kept returningto the remark Jean made about wanting my prick. Now, instead of thinkingof her as a woman old enough to be my mother, well nearly, I began to wonderwhat she was like under the overalls she'd been wearing all day. Yes, shewas short and a little plump but well endowed in the tit department. Fromher comment, 'it'd be nice to have a nice young prick in me again,' I guessedshe still got horny. Maybe there was a chance I could get my prick intoher. It had been a few months since I'd last fucked a girl and I'd certainlynever had one as old or as plump as Jean.
By mid-afternoon I had the attic clear and went down for a cuppa and lookthrough the latest boxes but there was not too much of interest for me. Mainlypapers and old clothes and a few children's toys but they had been well usedand were rather battered. "You're not wearing the ring," Jean commented.
"I didn't want to damage it," I lied but put it on again. We satcross-legged on the floor drinking the last of our tea. The tail ends of mylab coat had opened so I knew Jean could look directly at my crotch and fromher thoughts I knew she was assessing my potential. Inreturn I began to appraise her body. She certainly wasn't a beauty queen butshe was by no means unattractive. Thinking these thoughts caused my prick tostiffen and from her thoughts I knew she noticed. Ineffectually I tried talkingabout the things we'd found and moved myself so the budding erection didn'tshow as much. Once again I tried to see if I could project my thoughts butwith no result.
By four o'clock we'd both had enough. My once white lab coat was near blackdown the front and Jean's overalls were filthy. "Let's call it a day,Derek. Would you like to come to my place for a meal? There's a couple of steaksin the freezer," she suggested.
"I'm filthy. I ought to go home and shower and change."
"I do have a shower at my place, you know," Jean laughed, "Andwe could pick up a change of clothes at yours on the way. I'm just as dirtyas you so I'll need a shower too."
"Okay, you persuaded me," I grinned wondering if I would reallybe able to shower with her. I knew she thought about it but I couldn't thinkof a way to bring it about.
We chatted about the house and the finds as she drove the five miles to herhome. She showed me the shower and asked, "Would you like to use it first?Don't be too greedy with the hot water though. The tank is rather small."
"Ladies first," I replied.
"No guests first."
We argued as to who should go first for a minute or so until I jokingly asked, "Wouldyou like us to shower together then?"
The smile left her face and her expression became serious and rather blanklooking. I thought I had committed a faux pas but quietly and seemingly findingit difficult to get the words out she answered, "Yes Derek, I would liketo shower with you."
I could tell from Jean's thoughts that she was confused but I decided tokeep the advantage. "Come on then, I'll undress you and you can undressme. Let's have a little fun after all the hard work." Taking her handI led her into the bathroom and started unbuttoning her shirt. Her thoughtsthat came through to my mind were still very confused. Deep down she wantedto shower and have sex with me but had grave reservations about doing it withthe son of her friend, doing it with a young lad, doing it with someone shewould see frequently in the future. Seeing her hesitation, I tried to reassureher. "I'm not a minor you know Jean. I'm twenty-six for heavens sake andI do have a little experience. I want to do this as much as you so let's pretendI'm just a toy-boy you've hired for an hour or two. Forget that you know mymother or that we'll be working together again in the morning. Let's live forthe moment." She seemed surprised at my insight into what was worryingher and relaxed. Before long we were both naked and looking each other over.For my part I was very pleased at the sight of Jean's plump body and her goodsized tits that had hardly started to sag. "You're very nice Jean," Isaid awkwardly as I gave her a hug and pressed her breasts to my lower chestand her head to my shoulders.
"You're not so bad yourself, tall guy," she giggled and then pushedherself away and took a quick look at my equipment. >>"Nicesized prick and big balls, already half hard. Hope he can use it later.">> Herthoughts came to me as we stepped under the shower and washed each other.
To Jean it must have seemed that I knew just the right tricks to stimulateher. Verbally she just came out with "Oooh's and aaraah's" but hermental instructions were far more precise. I respondedto all these messages and brought her to a noisy climax even before she startedto wash me. When she did, she paid special attention to my prick, which wasnow rock hard. I felt her lips aroundthe head and knew I would soon shoot my load and warned her. For a moment sheseemed worried and her thoughts told me it was because she wanted it in herand then Hermouth took my manhood deeper and she sucked more vigorously until I could holdout no longer.
"If that's a sample of what older women can do, I want more of them," Isaid to myself.
Finally we finished washing and drying ourselves. Jean, I knew, enjoyed theexperience as much as I did but inwardly she was confused, guilty and apprehensiveas to what we had done. I tried to reassure her as best I could but still theguilty feeling remained. We didn't dress properly but she loaned me a plaiddressing gown of Ted's and wore a flowery one herself. Ted's was a bit shorton me but it covered my prick with just a little to spare.
For a while our minds were largely concerned with preparing and eating themeal but in any spare moments both of us thought about what happened earlierand how it would affect our relationship. After the washing-up was done andwe sat drinking tea in the lounge, our thinking once again turned to sex. Myprick started to rise from the visual stimulation of seeing the tops of Jean'stits where her gown had opened. Putting my arm around her, I kissed them. Instinctivelyshe started to push me away, and almost as quickly pulled me to her.
"Jean? Would you like us to go into the bedroom and do it properly?" Iwhispered in her ear.
"Yes," she hissed back, "Yes please."
I wasn't a virgin but I'd only had fucked a few girls and none aroused melike Jean did. This was partly due to way her tits bounced and her arse wobbledas she walked. I couldn't resist giving her bum cheeks a playful smack as wewent into the room, which brought a little squeal from her. My arousal wasalso very much stimulated by hearing her raunchy thoughts as I ploughed intoher and for the thought instructions as to what she liked me to do. The movementsthat seemed to suit her best also inflamed my passions but even so I took longerthan usual to ejaculate into her, probably because it was the second emissionin a relatively short time.
Myra
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