Horse and Ruth - Sex Stories

Horse and Ruth

They call me Horse and I’m the caretaker here at the Vicar’s big house, since I left the army anyway. The Reverend Michael chose me himself, from quite a few lads. I’m good with tools and my hands but he didn’t seem to care. He licked his lips and walked round me. Half expected him to pat my flank and feed me sugarlumps. “You are so disarmingly innocent. Like a child in a man’s body!” He said. I am simple. But I ain’t stupid. The Rev’s wife, Ruth, is much younger than her husband. My age, with chestnut curls and sky for eyes and she’s got those curves on her, too. Rev don’t seem to care about her neither. Not much care between them at all in fact. From what I can see, from my caretaker’s cottage, they can easily spend a day in the house wandering from room to room, window to window and never see each other at all. She’s at her bedroom window right now. Taking another of her fevers. All lonesome, wrapped in a shawl and staring out at me while I pull out the rotten stump of an old tree. It’s a very tough job, but the old wood has to go. On the floor below her the Rev in his study, pen to his lips, and watching me too. It tickles me that neither of them know what the other is doing. Ruth takes a fever every now and then. Today I’m worried, today her cheeks are pink as berries, and her eyes droop as if she might faint. I heave at my stump and sweat stings my eyes but I have them half on her, should she need my help. I push and pull, push and pull. She trembles and presses one ...

... hand to the glass. Her mouth opens. Her eyes screw shut. She seems to be struggling with something too, below the window frame, below her waist. The Rev is lost in his thinking. I stop what I am doing and look up at her and our eyes meet. She’s quite out of breath but I think this calms her a bit and I’m certain that, before she closes the curtains, she smiles. The Rev waves me back to work. # I don’t like to be idle, so when I’m not caretaking I’m baking. Every day I bake bread and , once the reverend has left, I take it to the kitchen door. Ruth makes coffee and we share breakfast. We don't talk much. But there is much comfort with that, and much ease between us. Once she said to me. "You're a fine man, Horse." "And you are a very fine woman, Ruth." I said. She patted my knee. "Well then, the good reverend has good taste, after all” she said. That day she took a fever, too, now I think on it. # Today the Reverend is away. Ruth has a friend to stay, Lizzie. They grew up together in the Reverend’s orphanage and when the Rev stole Ruth for himself, Lizzie stayed on to run the place. Seems they don’t get to see each other much so they are in high spirits, squawking with laughter in the garden. They tease me but I don’t mind. “Horse! Come!” More laughter. Why is this funny? “Who would you say weighs the most?” I blink. “Oh don’t be shy, tell us.” What else can I do? I pick the minxes up, one under each arm, and they kick and wriggle and squeal. Lizzie is much heavier but they don’t ...