Lucky

LUCKY

Tony Spencer

Published by Tony Spencer at Smashwords

Copyright © 2012 Tony Spencer

Smashword Edition, License Notes

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Chapter 1

Life is what you make it, you make your own luck, your destiny lies in your own hands.

I might as well own up right at the front of our short-term hopefully intimate but rather one-sided relationship between you the reader and myself: I'm an arsehole, no, let's be brutally frank with you, I am one dumb stupid arsehole. And an unlucky arsehole at that.

I never knew how well-off I was until I was temporarily very well-off, before becoming somewhat less well-off and then realised I might never again be as well-off as I was when I really was well-off. If you are following me so far, well done, you should be proud of yourself, I feel happier believing that at least one of the partners in this fleeting acquaintance has something, however small, to be proud about.

I suppose the beginning of my sorry story is the best place to start.

I believe I became disillusioned with my marriage about eleven or twelve years into it, which is more than ten years ago now. When we met, my wife Ruth was a couple of years younger than me and br the time we married a couple of years later she had just left college to start working as a junior accountant, attending evening classes to work towards chartered status. I was 22 and she was 20 when we wed. Neither of us were very experienced romantically, although we were certainly experienced sexually, and we agreed at the start of our relationship that whatever went on before we met was to remain in the past. I suppose she was the first and only person I ever fell properly in love with. As for how many times she has fallen in love, well, you'll have to ask her, I am no longer in a position to do that.

Ruth is an only child and was still living at home at the time we met. Her father was a bank manager and always seemed friendly towards me, despite our difference in class and circumstance. Ruth's mother however, regarded me as something the cat dragged in and, I believe, continually sought to undermine me at every turn with her daughter. It turned out to be an act on her part, though as she clearly fancied a bit of rough on the side and tried to jump me only about a month after I started seeing her daughter. I put her in her place immediately, made it very clear that I would never betray Ruth and that if she tried anything again I would tell Ruth. Thereafter she never gave me reason to let Ruth know, the only secret I ever kept from her.

I was a bricklayer's labourer at the time, living in some pretty desperate digs, having left home and school at 16 following a dust up with my father. To my future mother-in-law I was exactly as I described myself in my opening sentence. I had no education or qualifications. I was an unskilled labourer, more often getting paid cash in hand when I did have employment and earning absolutely nothing when weather conditions dictated otherwise or if work dried up as it frequently did from time to time. To the Edmundsons I had few promising prospects for their only daughter.

But Ruthie thought the world of me at that time, or at least she appeared to me to do. In some circles I was considered something of a catch, I was toned fit and tanned, of only average height but with thick dark hair long enough to tie in a pony tail (my only excuse reader is that the style was very fashionable at the time even among accountants and bankers). Ruth was blond and petite with bright blue eyes and, I must say, a very nice pair of tits.

We met at a noisy dark strobe-lit disco in town and, to be honest with you, I really fancied her friend first but then so did Bob, my cousin and best mate. We both had a couple of dances with the pair of girls along with a couple of rounds of drinks in between these energetic bouts of activity. Her friend Carol was tall and slim, with small but high perky tits and legs that went on forever and she stood out not only by her height but her long frizzy startling red hair. Also, she was loud and extraverted and appeared to be up for anything for a laugh, which definitely took the notice of a couple of randy fellows like my cousin and I. When we suggested we go onto somewhere quieter where we could carry on a proper conversation or something requiring a degree of privacy, the girls decided to deliberate their possible acquiescence by privately discussing us in the Little Girls Room. I was the designated driver that night, restricting myself to the regulation two lagers and lime. (Look, this was a long time ago and tastes change, ok? Do you want to follow my story or not?)

Anyway, as I was going to be otherwise occupied in driving, my mate Robert had first dibs and naturally he opted for the willowy Carol. Damn! I thought, Carol was hot, slightly tipsy and clearly begging for it big time. Bob was taller, darker, fitter, much more conventionally handsome than me, so the chances of swapsies and sloppy seconds later on was more than likely extremely bloody unlikely. Not that we ever did anything that, but we both had vivid imaginations that were unlikely ever to be fulfilled. However, that night as we left the club I might have seriously considered any possibility offered.

Bugger my luck! Not that Ruth was ugly or anything, but compared to the scrummie Carol in that dingy nightclub she seemed dowdy and dumpy, with more than a touch of puppy fat around her middle and hips, although she did have the benefit of a nice attractive face. Her outstanding tits I had already commented on. When the lovely ladies returned from their consultation, the delectable Carol grabbed Bob enthusiastically by the arm and dragged him off towards the exit. It looked like our argument about who possessed what dibs didn't count for a fig. The ladies, or one lady at least, had made her choice and I distinctly got the feeling that I was losing out on the deal.

I had to drive the car so my mate occupied the back seat with Carol and they were soon making all sorts of interesting squeals and coos. Meanwhile I was stuck with Ruth in the front seats with her trying to make small talk and me concentrating on trying to get out of town and park up somewhere secluded to fulfill some potential action of our own. By the time we stopped, though, Bob and Carol were going at it full pelt and Ruth couldn't keep her ears or eyes off what was happening on the back seat.

I parked up in a shadowy layby that I recalled I had been undisturbed in before, pulled up the parking brake and released my seat belt. Following Ruth's example, I looked around too, it was wrong I know, but we both felt a voyeuristic compulsion to. All I could see in what little moonlight twinkled through the filtering tree canopy was Carol's long black-stockinged legs in the air with a flimsy pair of white knickers comically caught up in the buckle of her shoe around her right ankle, and Bob's even whiter arse pistoning frenetically between her quivering legs. Bob's rocking buttocks were held in a deeply-indented vice-like grip by Carol's multiple-ringed fingers pulling him harder into her audibly slurping vagina.

If my beat up old car had had a working radio or cassette player I could have blanked out some of those disconcerting sound effects by cranking up the volume. What did I tell you about my luck? Consistent, ain't it? Ruth and me had attempted a little small talk on the journey trying to learn more about ourselves but it was an uphill struggle for both of us and, certainly towards the closing miles of the trip, I cannot honestly remember a word either of us exchanged.

I'd had a raging hard-on for the previous ten minutes, the tent in my trousers rubbing on that big old-fashioned steering wheel that I gripped with white knuckles, as I motored determinedly to that secluded parking-up spot and thinking to myself why can't I be jammy like Bob? After I had stopped the car, remembering to pull up that dodgy safety brake, I spent a minute or two straining my neck staring at the spectacular bonking almost within touching distance, a taboo I had no intention of transgressing, before I tore away my gaze and looked at Ruth. She looked beautiful in the moonlight, she wore too much make-up of course, but all girls around her age did, especially if they were not as confident about their looks as they might later become. The flushed skin on her face looked smooth and translucent, her mouth was open slightly, her lips in profile looked fuller and more luscious then they had seemed in full face view.

I think that I was smiling at Ruth with the humour of the situation rather than any expectations of falling on my feet like Bob had. After all, when the girls were away about their ablutions earlier, both Bob and I had come to the conclusion that Carol was the one most likely to put out straight away before even a first date while Ruth was the quiet one that would need investing time and effort in for a few weeks before she finally gave up the goods, if at all. Hence my disappointment in the distribution of dibs, although looking at her now I thought she wasn't bad, she certainly wasn't plain.

My head turning in her direction must have broken Ruth's trance and she switched those shocked round eyes to focus on me. Then she relaxed and matched my grin with her own delightful, I thought, smile. Ruthie has always had a beautiful smile, it is wide and generous, crinkling up the skin below her cool-blue eyes, emphasising her high cheek bones, which framed her pert nose and flared nostrils perfectly. No dimples but a slightly tapered chin which made her face look younger and quite the sweet little girl. Just at that moment I thought she was actually quite cute in that soft romantic moonlight, so much better than that harsh strobe lighting in the smokey night club earlier. My dick, though, was telling me that Ruth was more than just cute, she was extremely fuckable so what the hell was I doing by not fucking her already? A young man's dick is always unruly and thinking for itself, however, we are not always ruled by its inclinations, despite evidence to the contrary.

I leaned into her and kissed her tentatively on the lips. Ruth tilted her head slightly as I closed the gap and our lips more or less met first time. We began with a couple of soft little daisy kisses as we sorted out each others facial geography, while I moved my hands up to cup her cute face. After those first few kisses I poked a gentle enquiring tongue between her rosebud lips and she greeted mine with her own hot wet insinuating one. We changed the angle of our lips and I became gradually more articulate and forceful with my organ of taste. Our teeth clashed a couple of times as our lips adjusted and realigned their orientation but we were both borne away by the passion of simple kissing and gentle stroking. I moved my left hand behind her head to pull her face more into my kisses and my right-hand fingertips stroked the back of her left hand which had moved up to cup my cheek. Her hand was warm and soft and felt nice, and I thought nice was so much better than nothing at all. I felt as romantic as any soppy girl at that point and thought it was time to man up and raise the ante a little.

As we increased the depth of our kisses, the fingertips of my right hand gently traced tiny circles on the back of her hand, then moved onto her forearm, before caressing her shoulder, inexorably heading for more intimate zones. Our gentle dreamy smooching was pleasurable even though it appeared to be in complete contrast to the passionate sounds not only still emanating from the back seat but escalating somewhat in intensity.

The shouts of Carol and Bob announcing their impending tandem coming finally penetrated our own concentration. I broke off our kissing, smiled warmly at the lovely Ruth and rolled my eyes skyward in an exaggerated gesture. She sniggered. Ruth possessed a little girl's giggle that attracted me then and has bewitched me ever since and her innocent face lit up through a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. I was charmed. I thought to myself that this girl's stock was definitely a lot higher than my initial impression at the nightclub. I hadn't had many conquests until then but they were, to a girl, good-time slappers all. Only a handful had merited second or third dates and I'd had only two steady girlfriends until that point, neither of them lasting more than six months. No-one had come close to denting my stone-cold heart, until this girl presented possibilities. Perhaps I was just becoming more mature, so recently was I out of my terrible teens.

We tried our best to ignore the exuberant lovers and the all-pervading smell of sex penetrating every corner of the confined space of my stuffy old motor car. We resumed our own satisfactory sweet kissing, although I was seriously considering a gradual escalation might well be in order. My right hand fingertips, which had been stroking her shoulder and throat up to that point, drifted down thankfully unopposed to fondle her ample soft left breast. I twisted my wrist so that the fingertips gravitated under that glorious orb and lightly lifted and weighed it several times to gauge its satisfying yielding ripeness and substance. Meanwhile, with my thumb I sought out and started lightly rubbing her nipple through the dulcimer thin layers of blouse and bra.

Ruth sighed and broke off our lengthy kiss but not before sucking in my lower lip and giving it a sharp nip between her even white smiling teeth, which sent a thrill of electricity through me. With another flash of her brilliant smile she tucked in her head to nuzzle and nip me in the erogenous spot where neck and shoulder meet, which sent another electric tingle through me.

Mmmm, that's nice and gentle, she breathed referring to the mutually satisfying ministrations of my thumb. My nipples are always sore when it's my time of the month.

She relaxed her head on my shoulder while I continued to lightly push her stiffened nipple up and down, across and around, while she made sweet little sighing noises between alternately kissing and biting my throat and neck where my collar allowed access. One of her hands abstractly stroked the back of my head and neck, playing with my silly pony tail, the other hand tracing little circles on my back, scratching at the fabric of my thin cotton shirt with her sharp highly polished nails.

All I could think though, was Oh shit!

Although I was thoroughly enjoying our kissing and light second base petting, her oblique reference to her deal-breaker monthly period soaked into my