Slut In A Rut
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Sod's LawChapter 7 free porn video
Friday 16th September 1983
At 8 pm on Friday the 16th September, I was watching a London train arrive at Piccadilly Station searching for sight of Helen among the crowds alighting from it. She was among the last to appear, trying to cope with all her luggage. I ran forward, she dropped her bags and we embraced and got lost in a deep and lengthy kiss.
She sighed. “Oh, I’m so glad it’s over,” she said. “It was so hard to cope with being apart. I can’t wait to get home.”
That was really touching: she thought of our two rooms at River House as ‘home’. We took a taxi to my office car park and we drove the rest of the way in my car. She kept sighing and reaching over to fondle my thigh, which was distracting, but there was no way I was going to stop her doing it!
We hauled her baggage up the stairs and she let herself into my room. She entered first, took a deep breath and said the one word. ‘home’, followed by another, ‘heaven’. I put her suitcase down and turned to shut the door. When I turned back she was standing before me naked.
“Quick!” she urged me, and ran to the bed, pulling the quilt off and climbing in, showing her delectable rear. Needless to say I was already stripped and following her across the room, my cock, now erect, swinging as I went.
She growled with lust and threw her legs wide apart. “Quick!” she repeated. “Now, David! Now!”
She was ready, and I certainly was. I dived on top of her, raised my hips, she grasped my urgent rod and lined me up speedily as I pile-drove into her.
“Oh, YES!” she yelled with happiness. “That’s where you belong, Oh, so deep, so full. Love me, David! Love me with that big cock of yours! Plunder my cunt! Harder! Harder you lover! OH, HELL I’m coming already!.”
I was saying nothing, panting for breath as I pounded her, slapping my root against her mound, until with a loud “Arhhh” I spewed into her, provoking another set of spasms.
I collapsed on to her, both of us gasping for breath, only to hear the sound of applause from the landing, the other side of my door. Then a voice with an Irish lilt.
“Sure didn’t we assemble to welcome you home Helen? It seems you’ve been already more than welcomed. Who’s the stud with you? Can we borrow him?” Loud laughter from a number of male and female voices.
“No!” shouted Helen, not in the least embarrassed. “He’s all mine! You missed your chance there, Nuala!”
“Aw, shucks!” came the giggled reply. “Anyway, from us all, welcome home! Wine and cheese supper in half an hour in your honour, Helen.”
There was a mumbled chorus of welcome, and the audience seemed to disperse.
“Seems we haven’t time for round two,” Helen said mischievously. “Though I note signs of interest already. I don’t want a quickie, so shall we wait until after supper?”
“Excellent plan my sweet,” I replied as I watched her spring out of bed and run to the bathroom. That bottom really could move!
We showered consecutively, dressed again and made our way to the kitchen to find the household assembled with knowing looks, mixed I like to think, with admiration. It was a wonderfully warm and thoughtful thing for them to do, and she showed her appreciation by hugging and kissing all the inmates.
When everything had been consumed, we were told to go back upstairs, and finish what we started while they washed up, said by Imogen with a filthy smile, with guffaws from the others.
So we did. Gently, lovingly and at great length, before falling asleep well after midnight, blessing the fact it was not either of our turns to do the weekly shop.
Helen did not want to do anything much over the weekend, except prepare for the new term. Lectures would not start until the week after, but she wanted to be ahead of the game.
So began another phase in our lives together. Now at last we were truly together, living the routines of everyday life. What could go wrong? In one sense we were both expecting set-backs, so we were surprised as the year drew to a close that our happy life progressed largely untroubled.
It turned out that we hardly used Helen’s room at all. She would retire there when she needed to study or to write an essay or other work, otherwise we lived in my room. Which gave me an idea.
Our two rooms were side by side, and the House being so old, our rooms had back to back fireplaces. And on the window side of each chimney breast was a built in set of bookshelves. At least they seemed to be built in.
I had been idly looking through the plans for the House one afternoon shortly after I was made ‘manager’, when I had noticed something about my room and the one next door.
It seemed it often happened that well to do couples kept separate bedrooms, and the House was built with this in mind. So our two rooms were connected by an internal door beside the chimney breast. At some stage it was decided to block the doorway by building in shelving on each side. Except it was possible to move each shelving unit in one piece.
Helen had assumed the shelves were built in, and so had never tried to move them.
About three weeks into October, I was supervising some roofing repairs when I remembered the connecting door, and on a whim, shifted the shelves on my side to reveal the door. It still had its key in the lock! And on unlocking it and blessing that it opened into my room, found it still moved smoothly on its well-greased hinges.
“Look what I found!” I announced to Helen as she came through my door that evening. She saw the bookshelves standing in the middle of the room, and her eyes drifted to the space left behind. Her eyes widened.
“A door!” she exclaimed. “That means...”
I could see her mind working along the same lines as mine, and that weekend saw us making changes. We made Helen’s room into a bedroom, moving my larger bed into her room, and putting her bed in the cellars. We moved my wardrobe into Helen’s room next to hers, and added my bedside cupboard and drawer to the other side of the bed.
It meant there could be a desk in my now larger room for her to work at, as well as the sofa which had been in her room, along with my two armchairs and a coffee table. Nothing matched but we didn’t care. We could also have a proper table in the room, at which we could eat, and we could use it if we needed a larger surface on which to work. There would also be room for all those books on both sets of shelving.
That night we slept together in a real bedroom, and somehow it made everything more solid, more permanent – I mean the relationship, though come to think of it there was something extra in our coition. Helen mentioned it afterwards before we slept.
Now we were spending our evenings in our ‘living room’, it meant that when she was working, she would ask random questions about what she was studying, and sharing information between us became the norm.
Often during the week she would spend the evening in the university library until nine when it closed, and on some of those occasions, since the university was on my way home, I would work late and we would have our evening meal together in the university refectory. The food was nourishing, and really that was all one could say about it.
We were both supremely happy in those weeks and grew closer to each other. Gradually the trials and tribulations of our early relationship sank into history, and at the same time my worries that something would come to bite us in the arse evaporated. This was what our life should be like. Sod slept.
It had always been my practice to visit ‘Mum’ about once a month at weekends, so it was not surprising that I should want to continue the practice, and in view of our now more settled love life, it was equally unsurprising that I should want to introduce my lover to Mum and the family.
Helen was a little uncertain about the visit, but I begged and she acceded to my wish. Usually I simply turned up unannounced at Mum’s, but thought it better this time to warn her in advance. A phone call was in order.
“Hi, Mum,”
“David? Is something wrong?”
“No Mum, I was thinking of visiting on Saturday, and wanted to warn you.”
“You won’t be alone,” she said perceptively. I then remembered I had done the same thing with Susan.
“Can’t put anything past you, can I Mum?” I laughed. “Yes, I’m bringing Helen.”
“Oh, it’s serious then? She’s special?”
“Yes, Mum.”
There was a crash in the background, and with a “Look forward to meeting her,” she disconnected, no doubt to cope with a minor crisis, of which there were many in that fostering Collins household.
Saturday afternoon saw us walking up the drive to the large rambling house which I loved so much. The front door opened and Gina came diving out, running up to me for a hug and a kiss. Then with a wide enthusiastic smile she turned to Helen.
“Helen! How great to meet you! I can’t wait to tell you all about him – all his dirty secrets!” and she giggled maniacally. “Come in! You get the front door treatment today!”
“How did you–” came from a puzzled Helen,
“David told Mum your name, and thanks to my advanced interrogation techniques, I got it out of her.”
Much laughter.
“He’s my favourite big brother, you know,” she enthused as we entered the house. “He always looked out for me when we were growing up.”
Mum came out of the kitchen carrying a little boy, who hid his face from us. Mum broke into a wide smile. “Helen! You’re so welcome. Come through.”
“He’s my new one,” Mum said to me as we entered the kitchen. “Aren’t you darling?” she whispered into his ear. He giggled at the tickling sensation. Helen arched a brow inquiringly at me.
“A new child to foster,” I explained.
“Munro is four,” Mum said. “Aren’t you, sweetheart?” He nodded.
“His mummy has to have an operation and she has no relatives or a significant other to look after him. Everything’s a bit new for him, but mummy’ll be back home soon and then you can go home as well, can’t you?”
She put him down, and Gina took his hand. “Come on, Munro, lets go and play lego.” The two left the room.
“Gina’s been wonderful with him,” Mum said. “He’s a little dazed, but he’s coping.”
Helen’s smile was getting broader and broader. “Can I help in the kitchen?” she asked.
“Never ever refused help in my life,” said Mum, and the pair left me to sit alone in the living room, listening to the giggles of the latest new arrival to the indistinct comments of Gina, and the constant chatter, again indistinct, from the kitchen.
Then there were other voices, and laughter, and soon Craig and Vanessa entered the room.
In the summer, Deborah had got a job in the North East, and she and Craig had reluctantly ended their relationship. Vanessa had apparently been waiting in the wings for her chance with Craig and the two had rapidly grown close. It seemed she organised him much as Deborah had, and kept him out of trouble.
“Hey, Davey!” Vanessa greeted me. “Love her! She’s sweet!”
“Yeah, Brother,” added Craig. “You lucky bugger! Best one since Susan ... Come to think, the only one since Susan! Try not to lose this one, eh? She’s mint!”
“Couldn’t agree more, Craig,” I replied. “It’s not been as easy as it sounds – one thing after another keeping us apart. But now, perhaps...”
“Feels like she’s always been here,” added Nessa (the contraction she preferred). “Fits right in!”
Other pseudo-siblings called in over the evening. Word had got round that my ‘new totty’ would be there, and as far as some of them knew I’d never had a girlfriend, so curiosity was rampant. The general opinion was that I should keep her.
After hugs and kisses when we left, Gina had the last word. “She’s just right for you,” she whispered in my ear. “You seem to fit together so well somehow, like pieces of a jigsaw.”
What she then whispered in Helen’s ear, I couldn’t hear and she wasn’t telling.
We visited Mum a couple of times more before Christmas was imminent, and the question with whom to spend the holiday was becoming urgent. After our contretemps over not mentioning me when she visited her parents, I thought it prudent not to bring the matter up.
It was when we visited Mum in early December that Mum herself brought the matter up.
“What are you two doing over Christmas?” she asked over our evening meal. For once the the older children were out that Saturday evening, so it was just the three of us plus two small ones who were chattering between themselves and ignoring the grown ups.
Helen looked at me and I looked at Helen. Both glances were uncomfortable.
“We haven’t thought about it,” I said, though I had thought about it without, as I say, bringing the matter up.
“Well, work it out between you and let me and, I assume, Helen’s parents into the secret. I take it you will be visiting parents over Christmas?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’ll let you know early next week.”
The conversation went on to other things, but we both knew we would have to talk about it and soon. In fact we wasted no time once back home.
“David, I’m their only child, and they’ll be expecting me for Christmas, and probably a few days either side...” at which she stopped and looked pleadingly at me.
“What you’re saying is that if I were to come with you, we’d be in separate rooms, and things would be uncomfortable.”
“Yes. I’m sure they’d be polite, but they would have ways of showing they were not happy you were there.”
“Middle class rudeness,” I said, starting to feel annoyed.
“That’s not fair, David. They would never be rude to you.”
“Don’t be naïve, Helen. Making it obvious I’m not wanted is polite rudeness. I’m sorry, but that brings out the worst in me. I’d confront them.”
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