{ASSM} (Ruthie's 4) See Betsy Run (MF, oral, humour) {Mr Slot}

The following is a work of fiction consisting of adult concepts and 
possibly sex. Do not read if you are not legally permitted. I don't 
want the police on my front doorstep.

You are welcome to read but please don't distribute without my 
permission.

Feel free to make any comments to the author.
Send E-Mail to dalech33@hotmail.com

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By now you should have read Ruthie's intro to an unusual project 
entitled, "Ruthie's Foursome." If you haven't then go read it. Go on, 
I'll wait for you.

You read it? Good. Now you know the idea behind this group of 
stories. I have taken the basic concept and added my own unusual (some 
would say freaky) twist to it. As usual, none of this would be 
possible without Ruthie's help. Thanks Ruthie. 

Thanks also go to my three "partners in crime:" Spin, Jack, and E.Z. 
for 
participating in this project. That way I won't look silly on my own.
; )
Only kidding guys, you can put down those blunt objects now.
So dear reader, sit back, relax, and enjoy...

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See Betsy Run (MF, oral, humour)
by Mr Slot
June 2000
A "Ruthie's Foursome" story


It was on a night like this that I met her.

Betsy.

I had taken to walking the streets at night after my relationship with 
Cindy ended. Well it was better than staying home and watching old 
sit-coms on television. They were funny the first time around, maybe 
even the second time. But when you're watching Hawkeye Pierce deliver 
the same zinger at Frank Burns for the thirty-eighth time, well let's 
just say the joke's worn a bit thin.

So I'd hit the streets, avoiding the sleazier part of town where the 
strip clubs run twenty-four hours a day. All that flashing neon and 
barking spruikers telling me in a voice that would drown out a jet 
engine that they have real live nude girls inside. I guess the fake 
dead ones don't bring in the crowds. I gave into the constant verbal 
battering once and went inside one of these "quality" establishments. 
I paid five dollars for a glass of watered down beer and watched a 
bottle blonde remove her clothes with all the vitality of a paid 
political announcement.

Whoopee.

So I kept to the quieter streets of uptown where people are rich 
enough to afford doormen and car thieves snub anything less than a 
BMW. Sometimes I got strange looks from the few people I met. An 
unknown man walking aimlessly around on his own tends to raise 
suspicions. I considered buying a dog but there are strict laws 
governing dog ownership, and there is something humiliating about 
walking around with a plastic bag full of dog turds. So I walked 
alone, trying to forget about late night television and a girl named 
Cindy.

Cindy.

I swear I loved that girl. She was my everything. I honestly thought 
she was as happy as I was. I make a decent living as an accountant and 
she had a good job as a real estate agent. We were doing the nine to 
five thing and saving for a house to call our own. But that ended just 
two weeks after my thirty-fourth birthday, when I came home early from 
work. All the computers were down because of a power outage, so the 
boss sent everyone home, after ensuring we would work through our lunch 
break the next day. Our boss was a real humanitarian. There was a rumour 
going around the office that he kept a time clock next to his bed, so he 
would punch in and out when servicing his wife.

As I walked into the small apartment we called home I heard a noise 
coming from the bedroom. Cindy always got home before me but this was 
early even for her. Thinking we were being robbed I carefully made my 
way down the hall and slowly poked my head through the open doorway. 
And there was my Cindy wearing the top half of a Cat Woman outfit and 
straddling a large man dressed as Superman.

I was shocked.

I was horrified.

Didn't she know Cat Woman would never bonk Superman? Batman maybe, but 
never Superman. At that moment she looked over and saw me, the horror 
and disbelief evident on my face. I expected her to say something, 
deny it was happening, claim she was being forced against her will, 
anything but what she did. She turned back to the man on the bed and 
kept right on bonking him. 

I did the only thing I could in the situation. I went to the kitchen 
and made myself a pot of tea. After she had finished she came out to 
talk to me.

"Honey, it's not what you think," she said.

"I think you were having sex with our bank manager," I replied.

"Okay, so it is what you think. But I was doing it for us." 

"Us? How on earth can you having sex with our bank manager possibly be 
a benefit to us?"

"He said he'd give us a low interest home loan if I did."

"Oh." It was all I could think of to say. I guess what she said held 
some sort of logic. But I still felt betrayed. And I knew others would 
be hurt. "What about his wife? What if she found out?"

At that moment I heard the toilet flush and a middle aged Wonder Woman 
walked out of the bathroom twirling her magic lariat. It was the bank 
manager's wife.

She looked me up and down then turned to Cindy and said, "We have 
another one, do we? Well I guess I can handle him for you. I'm in the 
mood for a little bondage." She looked me up and down. "And he is 
kinda cute. Don't forget now, Cindy, Jonathan and Richard will be here 
soon."

"And who are Jonathan and Richard?" I asked my fiancée.

"The milkman and the baker. Honey, it's not what you think."

I left that night.


And so it was that I was walking down a street in a quiet part of town 
in the middle of the night. As I went by an alley voices from within 
grabbed my attention. I could see a group of four people, one woman 
and three men, illuminated by a street lamp. Two of the men were 
holding the woman from behind, while the third was on his knees before 
her, running his hands up her legs and under her skirt.

Now I am the first to admit I am not a hero, but I had just had a 
particularly hard day at work and most of my time walking the streets 
had been spent thinking about Cindy. I was ripe for trouble. So I 
cautiously moved into the alley, using the shadows to conceal my 
approach. I picked up a handy piece of wooden board that was sitting 
in a pile of garbage and crept closer, stopping at the edge of the 
shadows. I didn't want to reveal myself in the light of the street 
lamp.

Gathering up my courage I raised the wood and ran at them, yelling 
incoherently. The one doing the touchy-feely act turned just in time 
to catch the flat of the board across his face. It made a loud 
slapping noise as it hit him, instantly bloodying his nose and 
knocking him on his arse. His companions let go of the woman and faced 
me. I knew I was in trouble if I couldn't bluff these two into 
believing I could take them on and win. I decided the best approach 
was to fake total lunacy.

"Come on," I yelled, "I'll take you all on. I know Kung-Fu and I'm not 
afraid to use it." The only thing I knew about Kung Fu was the 
television show that was on Friday nights at 11:30. I leaped towards 
them, waving my arms wildly with elaborate chopping motions, all the 
while making weird sounds like a cat being strangled.

All three of my opponents stared at me for a second, then turned tail 
and fled. There's a lot to be said for acting like a complete loon. I 
turned to the woman who had fallen in a heap when her attackers let 
her go. She looked up at me as I extended a hand to lift her off the 
cold, garbage-strewn cement.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" she yelled at me as she 
slapped my hand away.

"I'm helping you up," I replied.

"I can see that, you idiot. I meant why did you scare them off like 
that? Are you some sort of mental defective?"

"No, it was just an act to bluff them. I was just trying to protect 
you."

"Protect me?" she asked incredulously. "What makes you think I need 
protecting?"

"Well there were three of them attacking you. Anyone would need help 
if they were outnumbered like that." I had the feeling that this 
wasn't what I'd presumed it to be.

"They were not attacking me, you idiot. They were my johns."

"Your what?" I asked. I wanted to make sure I heard her right. She 
looked no more than 18... maybe 19, but with a mouth like an old 
sailor. Her long brown hair was a mess of tangles.

"My johns, my clients." She looked at me like I just wasn't getting 
it. "Jesus, you really are an idiot. They were my customers. They were 
going to pay me a hundred dollars to have sex with all three of them."

I looked at her dumbfounded. "You're a prostitute?"

"Oh very good, you finally worked it out. At this rate you'll be up to 
a fifth grade education in no time." This woman had a gift for 
sarcasm. I turned around and started to walk away. My bed suddenly 
looked very inviting.

"Hey, don't just walk off like that," she yelled after me. "You owe me 
a hundred dollars."

"What?" I said, turning back to her. "How do you figure that?"

"Well they weren't going to pay me till afterwards, and seeing as you 
scared them off before they could do the deed, you owe me what I was 
going to be paid."

"I don't have that sort of money," I said, patting my pockets for 
emphasis.

"Well you better find some," she said, walking up to me and poking me 
in the chest. "You owe me."

She was a feisty little thing. She couldn't have been much taller than 
5'3" but she certainly packed a punch. The finger poking she was 
giving me in my chest was beginning to hurt. I grabbed her hand and 
looked into her big brown eyes.

"Look," I said, "there's a twenty-four hour donut shop around the 
corner. If you promise to stop poking me I'll buy you a donut and a 
cup of coffee.

"Two donuts," she said, pouting those full lips of hers. I will always 
remember how she looked at that moment, standing defiantly in the 
light of that old street lamp, threatening to poke me again over a 
donut.

"Okay, two," I agreed and smiled at her.

She smiled back at me. It was the kind of smile that lit up a room. 
She bent over and pulled a battered old backpack out from under a 
nearby cardboard box.

"And while we are having our coffee and donuts, we can discuss the 
hundred dollars you owe me."


The donut shop was really just a grease trap and the donuts were just 
stale bakery items with sprinkles, but at least the coffee was crap. 
It also appeared to have more than its quota of police officers 
sitting at the counter. Some of this town's finest, scarfing stale 
donuts and drinking bad coffee, while outside the latest crime wave 
was hitting its peak. The woman grabbed my arm and dragged me to a 
corner booth. She looked at the counter jocks with some trepidation.

"I don't like being near cops," she whispered to me. "There's 
something greasy about them."

"It's probably the donuts," I said. "How do you want your coffee?"

"I like my coffee like my men," she said.

"Strong and black?"

"No, white and in a cup."

I wasn't sure if that was a joke or not, but I decided not to push it. 
I walked over to the counter and ordered two white coffees and a half 
dozen donuts. The cop I was standing next to looked over my shoulder 
at the girl in the booth.

"I see you picked up Betsy," he said.

"Betsy?" I replied, "Is that her name?"

"Well actually we call her Twenty Dollar Bet."

I looked at him, not understanding what he meant.

"She bobs for twenty bucks. Two tenners for a tongue lash." The cop 
was getting exasperated at my ignorance. I guess I was just slow that 
night.

"She charges twenty dollars for a blow job." The cop turned to his 
partner and mumbled something to him, which must have been funny 
because they both laughed loudly at it. I collected my order and went 
back to the booth.

"You telling jokes over there?" she asked as I sat down.

"No, they were just telling me your name, Betsy."

"Oh were they now? And what other pearls of wisdom did they impart to 
you?"

"Nothing, it's not important."

"God I hate those bastards. All I am trying to do is survive on the 
streets, and they make it as hard as possible." She looked at the cops 
over the top of her coffee, her eyes squinting against the steam 
rising from the cup. She looked back at me and asked, "What's your 
name, Slim?"

"Howard... Howard Bloom."

"Betsy Powell," she said, offering me her hand. I shook it.

"Pleased to meet you, Betsy. So why are you living on the streets?" I 
didn't expect much of an answer but she must have been in a talkative 
mood.

"My step father bashed me so I left."

"Why did he do that?" I asked.

"He was a bit upset because I had sex on his car. Well one of them 
anyway. He owns a car dealership, you see, and I had sex on the hood 
of one of his cars with his best salesman."

"But how did he know you had sex on his car? Did he catch you in the 
act?"

"Well it was a little hard to miss, Howard," she said with a wink. "We 
were doing it during his lunch break."

"You had sex on the hood of a car in the middle of the day?" I was 
amazed.

"Yup. Middle of the day, middle of the lot. I think he was just pissed 
because we dented the hood of a car he had just sold. You should've 
seen it. There was a perfect imprint of my arse on the hood of that 
Chrysler. Anyway, he hit me and I left."

"Did he fire the salesman?" I asked, trying to find some sort of 
sensibility in a totally insensible act.

"No, he wouldn't sack his own son."

I sprayed coffee across the table. "His son? Your step-brother?"

"Yup. What can I say, he was an incredible fuck. Besides, I like 
dangerous sex." She smiled at me with those full lips of hers. I was 
soon to find out just how dangerous she liked it.

"So what about you, Howard? What's in your dark past?"

"I don't have a dark past," I said, wishing she would change the 
subject.

"Sure you do. I've seen you walk these streets night after night. 
That's not normal behaviour. Come on, Howard, tell me everything."

I don't know why but I did. I told her all about Cindy, about the 
Super friends orgy, everything. And truth be told, I felt better after 
getting it all off my chest. Betsy listened to every word and when I 
was done she took my hand.

"I know just what you need, Howard. Come with me." She got up from the 
booth and led me outside. It was a lot colder out there and I pulled 
my coat shut against the wind. Betsy led me over to a police car 
parked by the curb, then around to the driver's side.

"What are we doing?" I asked. I was worried she was going to steal the 
car. The last thing I wanted was a spot on "Wildest Police Videos of 
Thirty-Four Year Old Men Stealing Cars With Teenage Girls". But 
instead of breaking into the police car she knelt down and quickly 
unzipped my fly. In a matter of seconds she had my dick out of hiding 
and was gently stroking it.

"Um, Betsy, I really don't think we should be doing this." To say I 
was nervous was like saying World War II was a minor political 
squabble.

"Shh," she said just before taking my cock into her mouth. I could 
feel her tongue at work, and I marvelled at how good she was. I gently 
ran my hands through her hair. Betsy let me go with a plop and looked 
up at me.

"Do you want me to stop, Howard?"

"Oh God no." I wasn't used to this type of oral attention. I was in 
heaven.

"Good," she said, "but you have to promise me something."

"Anything, just don't stop." I would gladly sell my soul if she 
wanted. She was that good.

"You have to promise me you'll cum, no matter what. Can you promise me 
that, Howard?"

Could I promise that I would cum? My God, I could practically 
guarantee it. I nodded to her and she went back to showing me that 
heaven was a cold, dark street in the middle of the night.

It wasn't long before I started to groan, heralding my approaching 
orgasm. I was about to find release when the car door in front of me 
opened. I felt her mouth leave, only to be replaced by her hand. I 
looked down as I felt her gently guide me to the open door.

"What are you doing," I asked, trying hard to keep my balance.

"You promised me, Howard," she said as she continued to stroke me. 
"You promised me you would cum no matter what. Now it's time to keep 
your promise. Cum for me baby, cum all over the inside of that pig's 
car."

"I can't," I cried, but it was a lie. She was too good and I couldn't 
hold it any longer. My hips thrust forward as I shot thick ropes of 
cum into the cruiser. Betsy held my cock like a fire hose, aiming it 
at the steering wheel, the gear stick, and the seat. I was a fire 
hydrant in her hands and she made sure she got my cum everywhere. She 
finally released me and I staggered backwards, into the street.

"My God," I said, "what have we done?"

"You just paid back that hundred dollars you owed me by helping me get 
my revenge, Howard. Thanks." She put her arms around my neck and 
kissed me. I wanted to wrap my arms around her but before I could, the 
door to the donut shop opened.

"Hey! What the hell are you two doing to my car?" It was the cop who 
told me about Betsy.

"What do we do now?" I asked her.

"Run," she said.


Twenty minutes later we leaned against the wall of an old apartment 
building, trying our best to catch our breath. I have never run so 
fast in all my life, but if she asked, I would gladly run for another 
twenty minutes. I felt alive again.

Again? My God, I was truly alive for the first time in my life. I 
looked down at her and saw that wicked smile on her face. It was the 
same smile I had seen as she led me out of the donut shop. She grabbed 
me by the shirt and dragged my lips down to hers, kissing me with the 
passionate enthusiasm that teenage girls seem to learn quickly.

"So tell me the truth, Howard," she said after finally releasing me, 
"is this the best fun you've ever had?"

"The first time I had sex," I said, taking her hands in mine, "was 
with Camellia Simpson in the wooden fort of our local playground. She 
had her little dog with her but she was afraid it would run off, so I 
tied its leash to my leg. While I was fucking her that little dog 
crawled between my legs and started licking my balls. It was the most 
mind-blowing experience of my life. Until now."

"Well, Howard, you better buckle up, because you are in for the ride 
of your life."

"Oh really? And just what do you have planned?"

"Well for now," she said, grabbing my crotch and giving it a gentle 
squeeze, "we go back to your place and fuck like bunnies. Then 
tomorrow you and I are going to do something…interesting."

"Cool," I said. I looked her up and down, sizing her up.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"I was just wondering what you would look like in a Cat Woman 
costume."


The next day I slept in for the first time in years. My night with 
Betsy had been in a word, exhausting. I tried my best to keep up with 
her but she was insatiable. I finally collapsed onto the bed, panting 
like I had just run a marathon carrying a city bus, but she rolled me 
over and climbed on top. When she wasn't riding my cock she was 
grinding her pussy into my face, her moans of pleasure cannoning off 
the walls of my one room apartment. It sounded like we were screwing 
in an amphitheatre.

And then there was the foul language. Not mine, hers. She was 
excessively expressive in bed, telling me in no uncertain terms just 
what I should be putting in where, and how fast or slow I should be 
doing it. I was tempted to stick my dick in her mouth, just to get 
some peace and quiet. In the end I passed out in self-defence. 

When I finally dragged myself out of bed at eleven I found I was 
alone. Thinking she had left I rushed into the lounge room to see if 
she had taken my VCR with her. Instead I found her, standing naked 
except for a towel around her head, scanning my collection of novels. 
Betsy looked incredible, her skin freshly scrubbed and white as milk 
chocolate. She must have heard me come out of the bedroom because she 
turned to me.

"Interesting collection of books you have here, Howard. They all seem 
to be about horror in one form or another. You planning on becoming a 
world famous horror writer?"

"Maybe one day." I walked over to her and kissed her lightly on the 
neck. "I thought you left."

"Why would I leave, Howard? I haven't finished with you yet." She 
looked up at me mischievously.

"Finished with me?" I asked. "What are you talking about?"

"I decided to make your life interesting. Starting right now. Have a 
shower and get dressed. Then we're going somewhere." I started to ask 
questions but I found myself being propelled towards the bathroom.

"Okay, okay," I said. I showered, shaved, sprayed, then walked back to 
my bedroom to find her rummaging through my wardrobe. She had put on a 
pair of my pants and one of my shirts. 

"Here, put this on," she said, throwing one of my good suits at me. 
She reached back into the wardrobe and pulled out an old baseball cap, 
which she put on, bundling her hair under it.

"You've gotta be the sexiest boy I ever saw." I said admiringly, 
pulling on my trousers. "I think you might just get me to turn gay."

"Don't you dare, not until I finish with your cock." She reached over 
and gave my crotch a squeeze, making it difficult to get my fly up. 
She liked squeezing my dick, and I must admit, I found it quite 
agreeable too. "Do I really look like a boy?" she asked.

"Yes you do. Are you in disguise?"

"In a way. Now hurry up, I'm hungry."

I finished dressing and we went downstairs and onto the street. I 
noticed Betsy had pulled the cap down over her face. It looked like 
she was determined not to be recognised. She took my hand and led me 
towards the centre of town.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"You'll see," she replied. She dragged me to the church district and 
we wound up in front of a large, impressive monument to religion. 
Voices uplifted in songs of praise emanated from within the sandstone 
and stained glass edifice.

"This is a church," I said.

"Very good, Howard. You really are observant, aren't you? Now just 
stand there and let me do the driving." Betsy kissed me lightly on the 
lips and then slowly sank to her knees. She quickly had my fly undone 
and released my rapidly hardening cock from its hiding place."

"Betsy, I really like the way you give head and all, but aren't you 
afraid someone will see us?" I was getting that nervous feeling again. 
After all, here was a young woman giving me a blowjob on the steps of 
a church. I'm not a religious person but this felt wrong. My 
nervousness was rapidly being replaced by pleasure though. She was 
talented, I don't think I can emphasise that enough. I was just giving 
myself over completely to ecstasy when a loud voice shouted at us from 
the doorway to the church.

"Hey! What do you guys think you are doing?" 

I looked over and saw a priest standing at the top of the steps. 
Behind him was what appeared to be his entire congregation. I wanted 
to stop, I really did, but it was too late. Betsy leaned back, 
releasing me from her talented mouth and stroked my rampant cock as I 
orgasmed, shooting my cum into her open mouth.

I realise now that to the people watching we looked like two men 
engaging in oral sex. But at the time all I could think about was 
Betsy, and how she was sucking every last drop of cum from my body. 
She gave my cock one last kiss then put it back into my pants before 
zipping me up. She got to her feet and kissed me, sharing my taste 
with me. I looked up at the crowd and noticed they were advancing on 
us.

"Run?" I asked Betsy.

"Run," she agreed.


Another twenty minutes of running and we were once again alone. We 
stopped at the entrance to a large shopping mall and I sat down 
heavily on a bench, trying to catch my breath.

"My God," I said between breaths, "you like living on the edge don't 
you?"

"Yup," she said, sitting down next to me. "I told you I was hungry."

"Yes, but in front of a church? What if someone called the police? 
What if we got arrested?"

"But we didn't, did we?" She looked me in the eye. "Don't tell me it 
didn't get you off, Howard. You came so hard I thought you were going 
to drown me."

"Okay, I admit it did have some appeal." I grinned at her and she 
smiled back. "Now let's get some real food."

We went inside and found the food court. Betsy got herself a burger 
and a coke while I grabbed a kebab and an orange juice. We made our 
way to a table in the middle of the floor and sat down to eat. Betsy 
bit into her burger and I watched as sauce ran over her chin.

"Here," I said, handing her a napkin. She wiped her chin and smiled at 
me. I imagined spending the rest of my life with this girl.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"Oh, just how cute you look with onion on your nose." I laughed as she 
applied the napkin to her face again, trying to round up the rogue 
piece of salad.

"There, am I free of foodstuffs now?" she asked presenting her 
gorgeous face to me.

"Not yet. Here, let me get it for you." I leaned over the table and 
gently kissed the onion from her nose. "There, now you're clean." We 
finished our lunch and threw the wrappers into a nearby bin. "So what 
do you want to do now?"

"I want to go on one of those," she said, pointing to a glass 
elevator. They ran up the interior walls of the mall to a hotel on the 
upper floors. The occupants could look out of the glass windows as 
they travelled.

"Must be quite a view from the top," I observed.

"Let's go," she said, grabbing my arm and dragging me to the nearest 
one. We bustled inside and she pulled me through the crowd to the 
glass window, so we had a great view as the elevator ascended. When 
the car reached the lobby of the hotel the rest of the passengers got 
out, leaving the two of us alone. A little old lady appeared at the 
door.

"Going down?" she asked.

"No," replied Betsy, "we already did that." She giggled as the doors 
slid shut on the confused woman. The elevator rose a few more floors 
then Betsy reached out and hit the stop button.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Guess," she said and took off the cap, shaking her hair free.

"Now? In here?" I couldn't believe what she was intimating but it soon 
became obvious that she was serious. In a matter of seconds she was 
completely naked. I was standing in a glass elevator, stopped between 
floors, with a beautiful naked girl.

"Do you want me, Howard?" she asked, slowly running one finger over 
her lips. I started towards her but she shook her head.

"You have to be naked first, Howard. You can have me but you have to 
be totally naked."

What could I do? A sane, sensible man would hand over her clothes and 
start the elevator again. He would take her down to the ground floor, 
give her some money for food and shelter, and politely tell her they 
shouldn't see each other anymore.

But I was far from sane and sensible.

I stripped and took her in my arms, kissing her deeply. She took my 
hand and placed it between her legs. I could feel how hot and wet she 
was down there.

"Can you feel that?" she asked me.

"Yes," I replied.

"Then do something about it."

I spun her around so she was looking out into the void. She leaned 
forward, placing her hands on the glass and pushing her arse back 
towards me. I placed my hands on her hips and slid into her. Oh that 
sweet, silky feeling, it was glorious. I took her there and then, 
plunging into her again and again. It was the most incredible sex I 
have ever experienced, even better than the night before. I felt her 
shake and shiver as she came, her fingers clenching at the smooth 
glass in front of her. I watched her long brown hair fly as she threw 
her head back and moaned. The only thing I didn't see was the elevator 
slowly move down to the floor below, or the doors behind me as they 
slid open. 

It was a complete surprise when the police stormed in and arrested us.

They dragged us downtown to a grimy little police station and read us 
our rights, then charged us with indecent exposure.

I posted bail and tried to pay for hers but she had already been 
released. I don't know who paid to get her out, but I suspect it was 
her family.

I went back to my home and my dull, boring life. I never saw her after 
that day, but I think it's for the best. In the end she probably would 
have killed me.

But I like to think that somewhere out there is a man who should know 
better, having sex with a gorgeous eighteen-year-old woman in a very 
public place.

End