Ruth was moving her hand up and down on my leg, spreading her fingers and closing them on the muscles. I was getting a hard on, and she could see it, but she didn't try to put her hands either on my prick or under my robe. And after a minute she stopped touching my leg and lay back on the bed with her own legs apart just a little and her hands held up by her shoulders with the palms up. I sat and looked at her. I looked at her teats falling, each one, to the side and outward, and I looked at her armpits that she never shaved, and I looked up between her legs, at her cunt. I stood up and I took off the robe.

My prick wasn't hard yet. It stood out in front of me looking angry and big, but it still had a long way to go. Ruth looked at it and at me, and she put one hand out for it. I climbed across the bed, and when I got close enough her hand touched it. I sat leaning on one hand and Ruth just touched my prick. We both watched her hand moving over it and under it, and while we watched it lifted up until it was erect.

It had been a long time ago when I had taken Ruth to that room and given her the first jazzing she'd had, and a lot of things had happened since then. She had learned almost everything there is to know, and since she had been with Toby I supposed that she had learned even more than that. For a while, when I had first known her, she had fucked for Art's sweet sake, or something like that, but it hadn't taken her long to find that you can fuck just for what is in it, and she was better after that. Everybody I knew who had ever fucked her said that she was a hot lay, and what was better, an easy lay, so I decided at last that she was just a natural, and I didn't have to listen to her quoting Eliot so much after that when I was trying to get her legs apart. And even if she let every man she knew jazz her once in a while there was something that made it pretty good to be together, and when we finally got that straightened out everything had been all right with us until this affair of Toby.