16 comments/ 61141 views/ 14 favorites Ginger Picks Up the Pace By: WatchesGinger "You gonna cheat anymore?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she slowly stroked my cock. I stood rigidly by the bed, knees braced against the mattress, looking at her. She sat naked in the dim light of candles spaced around the room, one foot tucked against her opposite thigh, the other dangling off the bed. Occasionally that foot brushed against the back of my leg in a gentle caress. "No, Ginger." I answered. "And why would I believe you?" still stroking, looking up at me. "I told you the truth..." I began, but she cut me off. "You told me after I asked you, Thomas." No anger or venom, just a plain statement of fact. She cocked her head inquisitively. I nodded. "You wouldn't have told me if I hadn't asked." she continued. "That's the same as lying, don't you think?" "Yes." I replied. I'd cheated as she started to "train" my stamina 3 weeks back. Ginger had finally taken our cuckolding experiment over the top, first with a guy in his hotel room, then again with a bathroom blow job at a co-worker's engagement party. While we'd both enjoyed the experiences, I admittedly had been quick on the trigger when having her afterwards. After the blow job, she'd restricted me from cumming without her telling me to do so, and had commenced training me by bringing me to the edge of orgasm, only to choke it off (literally) before I could finish. She'd been teasing me furiously, jerking or sucking me to the edge daily, always stopping me. Friday morning that first week, she was heading to work early and had straddled my face directly after her shower, letting me lick her to orgasm while she sucked on me. She came, then left me there, throbbing, once more. I lie there with her scent and taste still fresh on my lips and couldn't help myself, so I'd cheated and finished on my own. She didn't find out immediately, but an interrogation Saturday night coupled with my ineptitude at lying did me in. And so it had been 3 long weeks of intense teasing, her bringing me to the edge almost daily and shutting me down, that led to this evening. "Mmm" she said, tightening her grip slightly. "I believe you, Thomas." She smiled at me. "Plus...I miss it too, you know..." She hadn't been with anyone since the engagement party, but had me take care of her with my tongue, fingers, and toys (or boyfriends as she calls them), just about every day as well. "Miss what?" I asked, then regretted the question as her eyes squinted slightly. She stopped stroking, shifted about, rose up on her knees so that we were face to face, then began stroking again, more firmly, at a quicker pace. "See...that's part of the problem..." she started. "I know you like to please me, but sometimes you only see your needs. You think you miss cumming, and you think since you make me cum that I'm not missing anything. But I miss THIS." punctuating the sentence with a firm tug on my cock. "You miss cumming? Well I miss your cum, Thomas. I like pleasing you too. I like making you cum. Your selfishness that Friday hurt us both. Do you see?" I did see, although it was hard to concentrate with the pressure her hand was exerting on me. I felt bad, guilty, that it didn't really occur to me she was missing out too. She was right, I had figured she was getting off and that I was the only one suffering. She drew closer, kissed my lips. "Don't feel too bad...everyone is selfish. I'm selfish too. Why are we doing this? For me, right? So you can last longer for me." "I want to though...I don't mind." I answered. "Mmm...I know baby. And do you think you can now?" I nodded. "Really?" She stroked me faster. "So when I go out and meet a guy..." eyes locked on me now, pressing against me so her nipples pressed in to my chest. "Then come home, drunk...half-undressed...full of him..." I moaned, nodding. "And you finally get up in me...you know how to stop yourself? Hold it back so you can last?" She was stroking me hard and fast now, I felt myself tipping over the edge. Two quick, long strokes and she released me. I wrapped my finger and thumb just beneath my head and squeezed tightly, forcing deep breaths as I'd been doing the past few weeks. I thought I'd lost the battle, would let her down, but slowly the surge ebbed and I began to relax. She'd watched me intently the whole time. "Good, baby...that was really good..." Leaning in to me, she kissed me deeply, tongue pushing in to my mouth, arms wrapping around my neck. We made out for a few minutes, hot, passionate kissing. I throbbed against her stomach. She pulled away, settled back to a sitting position, and took me in her mouth. Wrapping her hand around me again, she fell in to a quick rhythm, wetting me with her saliva and stroking with a tight grip. Her eyes looked up at me, incredibly sexy. I braced for her to stop me again. Instead, she pulled her mouth back, stroked me harder. Looking up at me..."You wanna cum on me, baby?" I'd heard it before, been let down before. She stroked faster, grip tightening. "Yesssss...yes please...." I felt foolish, knowing she wouldn't let me. I was holding myself back now, fighting against the surge. The whole area ached, pressure building so I thought something would rupture. "C'mon then....do it..." she said. I looked down at her, wide eyed. She gazed back. "C'mon...give it to me Thomas..." I exploded suddently, my knees buckling so that I had to brace an arm against the nightstand to remain standing. Eyes closed, it felt like geysers were being unleashed from my cock. I realized I was crying out with each burst, self-consciously closed my mouth to hold it in. Her hand wrapped around me again, pulling gently as the streams subsided, and I jumped each time she touched my head, hyper-sensitive after the explosion. I looked down at her, saw thick splashes of my cum striping her neck and chest, already beginning to drizzle down to her stomach. She lie back slowly, pulling me on to the bed next to her, taking my hand. "Mmmm...that was hot Thomas. Feel good?" I smiled, nodded deliriously. "I bet....now....you want to rub it in my skin for me?" She was staring at me as she asked. "I..." I started. I didn't. She knew it. So soon afterward, my own cum grosses me out. "I know, Thomas. But I want you to. You gonna disappoint me?" A small pout on her cute lips, she pressed my hand in to a thick stream, pushed it up over her breast, coating a nipple. She closed her eyes, moaned softly. I complied, reluctantly at first, but her response was a turn on, moaning softly and writhing a bit as I smeared it over her stomach, breasts, shoulders and neck. She put a hand on mine and pressed it down between her legs, covering her slit with it. I pressed a finger into her, but she pulled it back. "Huh-uh...why don't you go get one of my boyfriends...pick whichever you want to see most." I returned with the black, lifelike dildo she'd bought after learning what a turn-on interracial sex was for me. "Hmmm..surprise surprise." she smiled. I lie next to her, pressed it between her legs. She placed a hand on mine. "Now...you want to lick your cum off my body while he fucks me, baby?" "Ginger..." shaking my head. She pressed her legs together. "Now...if I come home and tell you I let a guy cum all over me...you'd lick it off while you fucked me, wouldn't you?" I would. I nodded. She placed a hand behind my head, parted her legs again, pressed the thick black head inside as she coaxed my face to her breast. It was still sticky with my drying cum. "It's not much different, baby...not at all really..." pushing my face in to her skin. I licked tentatively at first, then took her nipple in to my mouth as I pushed the cock in to her. She sucked air between her teeth sharply, watching me the whole time. "Yes...yesssss...clean me up while he fucks me Thomas..." It seemed my punishment, and training, were over. She texted me mid-day on Tuesday the next week to say she'd be late from work. No details, no time, just late. I couldn't help but wonder if another guy was what would keep her away. She found me on the couch watching a game when she came in a little past 8, not too late at all. I followed her in to the kitchen, poured her a drink, and warmed up some food. "So...just a late meeting with a vendor baby, sorry I forgot to mention it earlier. But..." I looked up at her. "But?" "They want our contract and so they flew a tech expert in to help with their presentations the next couple of days. He's pretty hot." My gut clenched. Her words stung a bit. I could feel her looking at me, but I wouldn't meet her eyes. She continued. "I got to chatting with him during a break in the meeting tonight. He's down at the Hilton until Friday morning." She paused, still looking at me. I glanced at her, then moved past her to get her food. She hooked my arm. "Hey...Thomas...what's up?" "Nothing." I replied. "Go on." "Huh-uh...you know that won't fly with us. Tell me what's wrong baby." I hated myself for the feeling. I liked it when she was with other guys, for christs sake, so why should this bother me? I decided to just say it though. "He's hot?" I said, meeting her eyes. She paused a beat, then a short laugh burst from her mouth. Her eyes danced in a smile as she came toward me. "Are you JEALOUS baby? SERIOUSLY?!" as she wrapped her arms around me. I tried to pull away but she held tight. "Hey...hey...I'm sorry...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have laughed. But baby...jealous? You NEVER get jealous. That is NOT what I expected." "I guess...shit, I don't know...I guess it hasn't occurred to me whether you think other guys are nice looking or not." I said. "I mean...I don't know what I mean." And I didn't, I was confusing myself. "Hey," she started. "Do you not ever think other girls are hot? I mean, it's not like I don't see you looking them over. Shit, half the time I'm surprised 'cause we like the same type of woman." She poked my chest and I smiled. "I don't know...I guess you've never said it...I know you check other guys out too, but I don't ever remember you telling me you think they're hot. It was weird hearing it." "Baby...you have NOTHING to worry about, I swear. Yes, I think this guy is good looking, but it's not like I want to run off and marry him. He's good looking, that's all." "You said he's hot." I chided, settling closer to her. "You're right...I did." she answered pressing her hips toward me. Then, looking in my eyes, "And I'm gonna see if I can get in his hotel room." My cock pulsed against her. She felt it, smiled, and purred "There...now THAT'S what I was expecting." I sat with her as she ate and outlined her plan. He seemed interested in her, she said, but she thought maybe he was shy. A younger guy, mid-twenties, she didn't know if it was her age, her wedding ring, or his own shyness, but he'd kept the flirting to a minimum. She'd be with him in meetings all day Wednesday and Thursday though, and planned to try getting back to his hotel with him Thursday night. I must have seemed tense, and when she asked what else was bothering me, I told her that I thought we'd agreed that she wouldn't be with anyone at work. We both agreed her adventures would be strictly one nighters with people we didn't know. I didn't want to run in to a guy who'd banged my wife at the holiday party. And I worried, a little, that maybe she'd become attached. "I get it baby," she said "but they won't get the contract. We've had this other vendor forever, but we need to solicit bids. This guy will be gone Friday and I won't see him again. OK?" It sounded OK, and I had to admit that I was anxious for her to be with someone again. She looked pretty hot Wednesday morning, and she thought things had gone well when we talked over dinner Wednesday night. She wanted me to lay out her clothes for Thursday, so I headed up and called out to her when I was ready. I laid out a light peach-colored dress, mid-thigh length, with a gauzy strip up the middle of the back. I'd laid out a black lace push-up bra and panties and a pair of strappy brown 3-inch heels. It'd look good against her tan. She looked it over on the bed, eying the shoes for a bit, picking up and dropping the bra. She looked at me. "Huh-uh...try something else." and walked out of the room. She hadn't done the dominant mistress routine in a while, since the last time she'd tried it we'd both wound up laughing our asses off. She was too sweet to be mean under normal circumstances. I'd wondered if she'd try it now, but it seemed not. Over the next 40 minutes or so I rolled out dresses, skirts and blouses, tried dressy, casual, you name it. She reacted the same each time. She came in to review the latest, a tight black mini skirt and white blouse that, when on, really highlighted her chest, and severe black pumps. She looked them over, chewed on the inside of her cheek a minute, then sat on the bed and looked at me. "I have a confession." she said. "I like the first one...I liked it when I first saw it. I just wanted to see what else you'd come up with too." She had a mischievous grin on her lips. I smiled tightly...she got me good. "I'll get you back for that." I threatened, then put the latest away and got the peach dress out. "So...the gauzy back and black bra..." she said. "Yea...I want him to know there's something worth seeing under there." I answered. "Uh huh...nice touch." she said. I sat next to her, started to kiss her, and before long we were in to heavy petting. She pushed me away for a second. "New rule, new rule." she said like a kid on a playground. "No sex for you 24 hours before I might be with someone else. It'll heighten your excitement..." Then she leaned back in to me and resumed kissing. I pulled back. "Then what's this?" I asked. "Ummmm..no sex FOR YOU...you can still take care of me, Thomas." Being a kind and generous sort of guy, I obliged her. I waded through a restless night, and the next morning at work seemed to stretch in to days. Ginger didn't call or text me. Somewhere around 10 I ventured a text, "How's it going?", but no reply. I didn't know if she was truly busy or just teasing me, but whichever it was made the time crawl along. Just after lunch, she sent a short text. "Drinks tonight at the Hilton." "Just you, or everyone from work?" I sent back. No response. Man, she was working me over from across town. As I wrapped up and began heading home, she sent another. "Heading over now...Sarah and a few others coming along." I went home, heated up some left-overs and pushed them around the plate for a while, then settled on the couch with a beer and my phone nearby. I watched some TV, tried reading the paper, but nothing held my attention. Finally, around 8:30, my phone buzzed again. "You sure you're OK with this?" I stared at the text. I'd been anticipating it happening all last night and today, but hadn't really thought about being "OK" with it. I thought a minute, got my head around it. "So long as its what you want, and so long as you come home to me." I sent back. Then my phone rang. "Hey baby..." she said in a hushed whisper. "Hey Gin." "OF COURSE I'm coming home to you..." "K..." I said. Before I could say anything else, she said "Gotta go...he's holding the elevator for me. Love you baby..." and then she hung up. If the prior hours crawled by, there isn't a word to describe the rest of the night. Headlights finally splashed across the front window at about 11:15. Her car, which was a concern since I'd assumed she'd been drinking and would cab it home. I pulled the door open as she came up the walk, shoes dangling from their straps off one finger. "Hey." she said, stepping past and looking at me tentatively, I guess still a little nervous as it was only the 3rd time we'd done anything for real. Rather than screw anything up with words, I pushed her back against the door and planted my mouth on hers, kissing her deeply. I pulled away, and she smiled as she looked at me. "So I guess you really are OK with it, huh?" I started to lean in again, but she pressed a hand on my chest. "This didn't go quite like I expected, Thomas. But I had an interesting idea after thinking for a bit. C'mon in the kitchen." I followed curiously, noticing how great she looked in the dress, ever so slightly askew, her hair mussed a bit, as we walked. In the kitchen, she asked me to get a small bowl out. Standing in the middle of the floor, she told me to put the bowl on the floor and then take off her panties. My heart was hammering in my chest as I knelt in front of her and pushed up the dress to expose, then peel away, the black lacy panties that matched her bra. I stared at the Y between her legs as I did so, but she broke the spell above me. "He wore a condom, baby..." talking in a low whisper. "I was a little bummed, but he'd been working on me for a long time and I wasn't in a state to discuss it." Hearing her talk about it really got me going. I started lean closer, wanting to taste her, but she placed a hand on my head to stop me, then knelt down in front of me. "Put the bowl under me..." I did. "I want you to finger me like you do...make me drip in to the bowl. Can you do that for me?" The question came out in a teasing tone as she looked in to my eyes. I wordlessly slipped my hand between her legs, pushed a single finger directly in to her. She was very wet, very hot inside. She sighed, then let out a soft moan as I slipped a second finger in. "See...Thomas..." she was talking slowly, trying to concentrate as I hooked my fingers inside her and began moving them in and out while simultaneously moving them back and forth. "See.." she said again. "I saw a story on Lit, where a lady would jerk her husband off...right like that baby...yessss...jerk him off in an ice cube tray, then freeze it. Later she'd....oh damn Thomas...she'd take a cube and put it up in her, then let him pretend he was eating...eating someone else's cum out of her 'cause she didn't want to really fuck someone else..." At that point she cut off talking and inhaled sharply, gripping my wrist as she came on my hand, whispering my name a few times. I pulled my fingers out slightly and felt her juices slipping past them. Looking at the bowl, I watched her drip in to it, covering the bottom. She opened her eyes to talk more, but I thrust my fingers back in to her and began pumping them back and forth quickly. Her head lolled back and she began to pant, then quickly crashed over the edge again. I heard more of her splashing in to the bowl, looked to see it splattered around on the floor as well. I slowed my pace and let her come down. She looked at me, kissed me hard, then looked at the bowl. "That should do..." she said, then pushed up on shaky legs to stand. I stayed put, but she told me we were done and that I could get up too. She walked to her purse and opened it, then paused and looked at me. "Everything OK?" I said. "Ummm...this is actually kind of gross, thinking about it. Maybe not such a good idea..." "What?" I said. She pulled the used , knotted condom out of her purse. It hung limply between her fingers, the bottom swelled with her lover's cum. There seemed to be quite a bit. I squinted. I could see what she meant, pretty gross. But... Her turn now. She saw the look on my face. "What?" she asked. "Well, you're right...kind of gross..." "But?" she said. I was a little embarrassed to say so, but I did. "Seeing it...it's kind of gross, but it's kind of turning me on." She cocked her head at me. "You are something else, Thomas. Well...standing here thinking about it...it's kind of turning me on now too. Empty out an ice cube tray baby." Ginger Picks Up the Pace I dumped one of them in to the ice bucket then carried it to the counter. She'd snipped the knot off the condom and was dumping it in to the bowl. She stirred it with a finger slowly. I felt my cock throbbing restlessly. "So the twist in that story was that the guy is thinking his wife is gonna jerk him off again that night because he knows they're out of the cubes. But instead, she comes home and goes in the kitchen, makes like she's getting a cube out of the freezer, then comes up to him in bed. She's all sloppy down there, so she's actually been fucking another guy and he gets his fantasy after all. Nice, huh?" "Mmm...pretty hot. So, how did you...?" I started. She lifted her finger out, glossy and slick, held it up to me. I backed my head away. Staring at me, she slipped it between her lips instead, sucked longingly on it, then pulled it out and pressed her lips to mine, pushing her tongue in to my mouth. We kissed hungrily again. Pulling away, she said "I got the idea when he was finishing up, and so when he was done I pulled it off him and took it to the bathroom, then flushed the toilet, like I was doing him a favor." She poured the mixture in to the tray. There wasn't much, and it only covered about a quarter of the bottom for three cubes. She stuck it in the freezer. "So...you're going to do for me what that lady did for her husband later?" I asked. "Huh uh...something else in mind...you'll see..." she smiled. "Now, take me up to bed." I might have objected to the cube tease, but instead I pulled her to me, lifted her on to the counter in the corner, and pushed her back. I'd been patient enough and couldn't wait the few more minutes to get her upstairs. She giggled, then planted her bare feet on either side of the counter as I pushed her dress up again, then dove between her legs. She was soaked from my fingering. I could smell and slightly taste the latex from the condom. I guess it should have grossed me out further, but It just spurred me on as I attacked her with my tongue. She related her latest adventure to me breathlessly as she leaned back against the cabinets. How she'd initially ignored him at work, but knew he was looking at her whenever he thought she wasn't looking. During a meeting break, she finally approached him and told him that those looks would cost him a drink later. It turned in to an event for everyone, which made it awkward, but she'd managed to get alone with him, she thought without anyone noticing. Once in the room, she told me he'd spent a good long time playing with her body. "He got me undressed, then lay me on the bed. He stood there and stripped to his boxers. I tried to pull him on to me then, but he just slid up next to me and started running his hands over my skin, but not touching me. He kept them just off my skin, where I could feel it but NOT feel it, you know?" He'd done that forever all over her front, down to her feet, over her face and neck, then turned her over and did all over again on her back, and she said she'd felt like a quivering bowl of jelly by the time he finally touched her for real. Hearing it was driving me crazy with lust, but there was a hint of jealousy lurking just beneath. She'd obviously loved it, and it's nothing I'd ever done to her. "All of a sudden, he was on top of me, and it was like sensory overload, all that deprivation where he didn't touch me, then suddenly he was all over me. He went down on me, and I managed to coax him around so I could get his cock in my mouth." I moaned out loud when she said it, then nipped at her clit until she came again. I stood upright, tugged her dress off, then pulled her off the counter and pushed her back on to the kitchen table. She looked up at me, her black bra the only thing covering her soft skin. "You like hearing about it, Thomas? You like hearing how I put his cock in my mouth?" Her voice was taunting, she cocked her head playfully. I grunted, pushed my pants down to release my cock. She got up on her elbows, grabbed my shaft with one hand. "You want to kiss me now that I sucked on his cock? You want to kiss on my dirty mouth?" I pushed my tongue in to her mouth, put my weight on her to press her down on to the table, tried to push my cock in to her. She held it tight, pulled her head to the side. With her free hand she pulled her bra cup over her left breast. "He sucked on my nipples too, baby....when he was fucking me he started to bite on them..." She was talking breathlessly. "You wanna suck on them?" I inhaled her nippled in to my mouth, sucked it hard, took it between my teeth and clamped down lightly. She guided my cock to her slit, she was drenched, then put her lips to my ear, whispered to me "Aren't you gonna fuck me like he did while you do that?" I slammed in to the hilt. We spent ourselves there in the kitchen that night, her coaxing me on, telling me what a slut she'd been, telling me how she knew I loved her being such a slut. I stopped myself repeatedly, close to cumming with each burst of filthy talk pouring from her mouth, until finally she told me to fill her up and we both finished noisily. We staggered up the stairs, nude and exhausted, and fell in to bed. She wrapped herself around me and we slept straight through to the alarm. I drove her in Friday. Work was a challenge, she told me it'd been the same for her. We skipped dinner went right to bed. While I was constantly aroused as I thought of Thursday night, I was too tired to act on it. I felt her press against me later, opened my eyes and was surprised to fine we'd slept straight through to Saturday morning. She was facing me, only a thin t-shirt on. She slid a leg up over mine, whispered "Make love with me Thomas..." We spent a long, slow, 40 minutes, all warm kissing and soft caresses. I'd first said that to her once while we were both still married to others. Til then we'd only fucked like teenagers. Afterwards, she told me no one had ever been with her like that, and that she liked the way I said "with" when I said it. Our sexual relationship, then and now, was always more physical and edgy, but every now and then one or the other of us gets puts on a softer side. I'd forgotten that we were having friends over for cocktails that night, but she reminded me before I could drift back to sleep. It was an annual end of summer thing for us, one last night with friends before fall was on us. I didn't see what was the big deal, really...it didn't get THAT much colder in September down here, but it was a nice excuse to get together with friends. The day turned in to a scramble, getting things ready, picking up trays of finger foods, a run to the liquor store, but we managed to be ready before people started showing up. It was just about twilight. I was considering whether to push my easy buzz a little further, sipping on a beer and chatting with a group. I'd just gotten a fire going in our fire pit for the true southerners who thought it was a chilly evening. Ginger walked up to me with two glasses. "Trade ya..." she said, nodding toward my beer. I pulled the rest of it, can't let it go to waste you know, then set the bottle down and took the glass she handed me. Someone in the group behind me ventured a smart-assed "Oh waitress...I'll have one of those..." "Huh-uh..." Ginger answered. "I made that special for Thomas...". There was a spark in her eye as she looked at me. I looked down in the glass. Clear liquid and ice...the ice was a little cloudy. I felt my hear speed up. She leaned in to me, whispered "Just vodka and a little Ginger, baby..." then turned and walked away. I turned back to the group, trying to act normal. They were all talking. Either no one noticed or I was doing OK acting like nothing was going on. Ginger walked in to my line of site, joined another small group, but continued to look at me. I tipped the glass toward her, took a sip. Nothing, really...it tasted like nice vodka. Maybe a little something else, but probably my imagination at work. I swirled the ice around in the glass, looked directly at her as I took another pull. She bit her lower lip. Very sexy. I got pulled in to the conversation, but was distracted as I continued to sip my drink. After a bit I looked around for Ginger again, couldn't find her, but then suddenly she was behind me tapping my shoulder. "Thomas, could I get a mo?" Murmurs from the group I was chatting with along the lines of "uh oh...that can't be good..." and "someone's in trouuuuble..." We stepped around to the side of the house. She leaned in close. "You are making me too hot sipping on that drink like you are..." "You started it." I said slyly. She took the glass from me, swirled it as she looked in to it. "Can you taste it?" she asked. "Honestly...not really...I think just the vodka. But the idea...I agree...making me hot for you." "They're almost gone." She said. Then she slipped a finger into the glass, pulled a sliver of one of them out, sucked it between her lips and let it melt. It dribbled slowly down her chin. "Gonna kiss me baby?" I pressed her against the house, licked the trickle from her chin and then kissed her. She pulled back, put her left foot flat against the house, parting her legs a bit. She wore a short denim mini skirt and had doubled up two tank tops. Easy, relaxing...and sexy...at least to me. I slid a hand up her thigh. She wasn't wearing panties, and I raised an eyebrow at her as I slipped a finger over her slit. She smiled. "You never know...someone might have brought a cousin we didn't know...I thought it best to be prepared for easy access..." "Slut." I said as I pushed a finger in to her. "You know you love it." she said back before she gasped. I started to finger her, but she stopped me. "We can't...people are gonna know." "Let's go somewhere." I said. She pushed off the house. "We can't, dammit. Everyone'll know what we're doing." She kissed me again, pulled away. "Save it for later." Then as she backed away, she looked down, smiled. "Hey...uhhh...you might want to think of cold showers or hairy armpits or something before you come back around." Then she walked around the corner. I looked down, saw what she meant. I was rock hard and it was obvious despite me wearing long and somewhat loose shorts. Shit. I walked to a side door that led in to the kitchen. I'd seen we were light on lime wedges so figured cutting some up would take my mind off Ginger. I stepped in to the kitchen to see a very cute ass sticking out of the refrigerator. Ginger's BFF, Sarah. She had on a white linen mini dress. Very mini. I could see her peach colored panties as they disappeared between her legs, pressed tightly to outline the treasure beneath. After admiring the view for another second, I said "Hey Sarah...can I help?" She squealed and jumped, turning in mid-air. "Jeezus Tommy...you want me to pee myself?!? I chose not to reply with the first answer that popped in to my head, opting for "Sorry." instead. "What are you looking for." "Ya'll need limes." she said. "I was just coming for those." I answered, then stepped past her and opened a cooler holding a bag of them along with a few other things. "No wonder I couldn't find 'em." She said. I put them on the counter and started cutting. She pulled up a bar stool on the other side. She had 2/3 of a limeless Corona, so limed it for her. She clinked the bottle to my glass, reminding me of my special drink. If I'd come here to lose my erection, things weren't working out so well. "I won't ask how you knew it was me from that angle, but just how long were you staring at my ass, anyway?" she asked slyly. It took me back a little, and we both blushed. I managed a zinger back. "Long enough to know you look good in peach..." I said. She blushed even more brightly and an awkward silence ensued. "So what's up, Jeff doesn't like us anymore?" Sarah had come alone, her husband Jeff stayed home. "Way to kill the mood, Senor Buzzkill." she said, then, "Don't get me started on my husband." And then she started anyway. She sat expressing her marital woes as I cut the limes. I felt bad, Sarah was a beautiful woman and she deserved better. Ginger's voice echoed down the hall..."Baby...you back here? We need more li..." her sentence cut off as she entered the kitchen to see Sarah and I there. "Well, don't ya'll make a cute couple?" with a bit of venom in her voice. Ginger is the jealous type. Ginger and Sarah had had a thing before I'd moved down here to be with Ginger, a sort of medium-term same-sex experimentation. They were the best of friends, but their friendship always had an edge to it. Before I could respond, Sarah replied innocuously, as if she hadn't noticed Ginger's tone. "Hey Gin...needed a lime, came back to get some and voila, here they were..." Clearly the girl had some experience defusing my lovely wife. Ginger stood, considered the both of us, then seemed to relax. She came over, slipped a lime between her lips and sucked it, puckered and made a sour face. Sarah said "What I really want to know, is what's in that drink Thomas is sipping on?" That froze us both for a second, then Ginger answered "Just vodka...some Russian stuff his Russian girlfriend at work brought him back..." Oh geez, here we go. A Russian consultant, who happened to be female and attractive, had brought some vodka back from home after hearing that I liked good vodka. It'd been sitting in the freezer, seal intact, ever since, as Ginger had expressed that the ONLY reason a girl would bring a guy something like that would be to get in his pants. I'd been dying to try it, but it hadn't been worth the hassle of more conversation about the Russian girl. Apparently it was OK for me to drink it when mixed with "a little Ginger", however. Ginger eyed me with a sly smile as she watched me realize what she'd done. Not that I cared, but she often surprised me with the schemes she came up with. "Uh huh...just vodka..." Sarah said. "That'd explain the googly eyes ya'll were making at each other the whole time after you gave it to him." "Think what you want..." Ginger said, then started to head out of the kitchen. At the door she turned and said "Hey...if things heat up in here, one of ya'll come and get me..." then spun and left. Shocked at what I'd just heard, I went back to cutting the last of the limes. "Damn, Tommy...I think she just green-lighted us..." Sarah said blankly. She looked as surprised as I felt. I quickly finished the limes and headed for the deck, and Sarah followed, neither of us wanting to test Ginger's invitation, and in fact determined to get as far from it as we could. I felt pretty good Sunday. I'd switched to the vodka and stuck with it, holding a nice steady buzz the entire night. Ginger had gone well past "steady buzz", with the benefit being a very physical venting of our pent-up sexual frustrations shortly after the guests had departed. I figured she'd have a bitch of a hangover and was getting ready to go and start the clean-up when she rolled over on to her stomach and propped her head on one hand. She'd kicked half the sheets off and had her knees bent, feet moving back and forth in the air. Her hair was mussed, eyes a little puffy with sleep. "Go on back to sleep baby..." I said. She smiled sleepily. "K...just one question though before I do..." she said. "OK, shoot." "How are we gonna go about finding someone else to fuck me, anyway?" She caught me completely off-guard and she knew it. She'd asked almost that same exact question back when we'd only been talking about it, and the outcome had been a bet, now known simply as "the bet", that had really started it all. Caught flat-footed, I could only manage a slack-jawed "uhhh..." "It's OK, baby...just think on it a bit and we'll compare ideas later." she said, then simply rolled back over to go back to sleep. Think on it a bit, she said. Not too distracting at all. Yea right. I managed to get most of the party remnants bagged up and outside before she came down to help finish up. We had some coffee, she confirmed a wicked hangover but was managing it, then I went for a run. I came back to find her in the hammock, showered and wearing short shorts and a tight tank top. "Why don't you clean up and join me?" she said as she patted the hammock next to her. I did, came down and settled in next to her, fought my arousal off as she hooked a leg over me and pressed against me. She smelled light and fresh, soap, shampoo, baby oil and lotion all mixed together. "We gonna be able to talk through this without you jumping on top of me?" she teased. "I don't know...we gonna be able to talk through this without YOU jumping on top of ME?" I retorted. She looked up at me, eyes squinted and feigning a pissy look. "I'll do my best." We talked about ideas for getting her together with guys then. We both liked the random guy at hotel bar method, it seemed to be the dirtiest, but there were no guarantees and it carried risk. I knew of amateur sites that had areas to connect with guys, but that seemed too planned, and we didn't think we wanted to get to know a bunch of people in the process of meeting them. Gin mentioned some adult-oriented dating sites, where the obvious goal was to hook up and not necessarily to meet your next spouse. In the end we agreed to sign her up on a couple of those and see how it went, but that we'd try out local hotel bar pick ups first. And that's how things really got started for us. The online sites resulted in a flood of email, and who had time to trawl through all of it to find legitimate opportunities? We'd go to bars though, her dressed provocatively and me sitting somewhere across the bar to watch, and almost every time she'd wind up with a guy sitting next to her and hitting on her. There was no specific schedule, we'd go out when the mood struck one of us. If it struck one of us, it was never hard to talk the other in to the mood. Every night wasn't a success, in as far as Ginger going back to a guy's hotel room. Some would shy away once it became clear they could get her, maybe thinking it couldn't be that easy without something being wrong. Sometimes Gin's creepy buzzer would go off and she'd bail out. Regardless of outcome, she'd get pretty tipsy most of those nights, and whether or not she hooked up, we'd both be wound up and tear each other apart at home. There were a lot of guys, though. I eventually stopped counting, but through to the New Year I'd guess she was with no less than 3 guys each of the months. Sometimes it was several more. Weeknights were easier to get them, more business travelers at the hotels, but it was rough getting up for work the next day. She did manage to weed out a few prospects from the online sites, which pushed the count up in the months she'd met them. At first, she'd tell me all the sordid details as I explored her well-used body on the nights she'd connect. The script was about the same most nights. We'd go together, walk in separately. I'd watch her remotely, enough of a turn-on in it's own right. If it worked out, I'd stay until she left the bar with him, then head home to wait. She always cabbed it home those nights, and always came tottering up the walk barefoot, her high heels always strung over one finger, something that became a HUGE turn on for me for some reason. Her skirt / dress / blouse always in disarray, hair tossed about. If she'd put on make up, it'd be smeared and faded. She'd smell of liquor and fucking. Once, in bed the morning after she'd been out, she said "Hey...when I come home after being out...you seem to press against me and breathe in, really deeply, when you first see me afterwards." I thought about it, nodded. "Yea...I guess I do." Ginger Picks Up the Pace "What are you doing? It makes me a little self-conscious every time, although you do make me forget it quickly." "Don't be self-conscious....it's that...well...how do I put it?" She cocked her head in a question. "You smell like you've been fucking..., but I know you haven't been fucking me. The scent turns me on more than I can explain." She shifted, I thought uncomfortably at first, but then noticed she was pressing her legs together. She moved against me, looking at me. "I swear, Thomas...sometimes you say things that make me feel like a faucet turned on between my legs..." I felt obligated to go on down and play plumber. After several times, she started relaying less story after coming home. We talked about it, and she said that it felt repetitive to tell me about a guy fucking her with no particular intricacies. The fact was that lots of times it'd be just a straight screw, nothing spectacular for it except for the fact that it was with a guy she'd just met. She'd tell me all the details when a guy was particularly original or good, but sometimes nothing special happened. It was fine, as she'd still pepper any encounter with harsh talk about what a slut she'd been and what a dirty little fuck I was for loving a slut-wife like I did. Something else happened as we progressed in to this new part of our marriage. Ginger seemed to become more intimate with me, more loving, more passionate. I'd never complained for lack of sex with Ginger, but since she'd begun going out to find guys, we'd been having even more. And she'd initiate a lot more than she used to. Morning sex was not infrequent with us, I loved to wake her by licking her. Now, though, she'd often wake me first. She'd still wake me so I could lick her, that hadn't changed, but we did it on more mornings than not since this all started. When we'd be out, she'd often press against me, always near, almost always touching me in some way. One night, not a date night for her, we sat at a high-top in a bar, having a few drinks and waiting for something to eat. She'd kicked one shoe off and was rubbing her bare foot up and down my calf. The table wasn't covered and I noticed a few people stealing glances over at us. "So...is it me, or has this new chapter in our relationship increased our intimacy?" I asked. She looked over her drink at me. "Is that a complaint?" she drawled, a small smile on her lips. "No no no...no complaints...just...an observation." She seemed to think a moment, then sighed. "Well, I guess I'm glad you noticed, and yes, you're right. I actually wanted to talk about it with you. But I don't know...I don't want to ruin anything." As usual, a slight unease set in despite my confidence in our relationship. "Go on, Gin...you can always say anything to me." But I braced myself for the worst. "See...it's just that..." She paused, then something seemed to click in her mind. "You remember when we first were talking, and I'd only ever been with Jerry (her ex), and we got to talking about how exciting it was to be with someone new for the first time?" "I do, yea. You said you'd never felt that." "Yea...I'd been with him since high school. Anyway...when I first messed around on him, I got to knowing what you meant. And by the first time you and I got together, well shit...I thought my stomach was doing flips and my heart would explode." "Mmmm..same for me." I took her hand across the table. She paused again. "Go on..." I coaxed. "Talking to you like we did, it opened up something new for me. I'd never felt sexy before meeting you. Jerry treated women, not just me, but every woman, like they either had a purpose to serve for him or they didn't exist. He never told me I was sexy. Never told me something looked good on me. Never told me my hair looked nice, or smelled nice. Nothing like that. Then, here you come along, telling me all those things and more." She took a breath, sipped her drink. "At first it was hard to believe, and I figured maybe you just wanted in my pants." "Well, I did want in your pants, of course...but only because you I thought you were sexy." I interjected. She smiled, continued. "It was more than that though, I could feel it was. And when we got together that first time, I dressed as sexy as I knew how for you. And then when we were out, people were LOOKING at me like I'd never noticed them looking at me before. It was exciting. You made me feel good about myself, and then I started dressing nicer and taking better care of myself, and I noticed people noticing. It was like a circle...the more sexy you made me feel, the more confidence I had, and the more people noticed, the more sexy I felt." She stopped again, took a breath. "Gin...that's all good, really...but what's up? What is it you wanted to talk to me about?" She took another deep breath. "Thomas...I was with a lot of guys after my divorce." "I know Gin..you told me." I didn't mean just that she'd told me about being with guys. When we'd talk on the phone or email or chat, she'd give me details of guys she'd been with since I told her it'd turn me on to hear it. She hadn't believed me at first, but after it became obvious I liked hearing it and didn't judge her badly for it, she'd tell me readily. She shook her head, looked down. "You sure you want to hear this Thomas?" I reached across, picked up her chin with a finger, met her eyes, nodded. The waitress came, breaking the mood. Our food sat untouched in front of us. We each took a drink. "I didn't tell you about every guy, Thomas. Not even close." Her voice was just above a whisper. She looked down again. "I mean..." a short, embarrassed laugh accompanied a shake of her head. "...a LOT of guys. You know how I said that one time I didn't get laid every time I went to a bar? Well, I did ALMOST every time. And pretty much anytime I really wanted it, I did. And if I went to a club to dance, then it was definitely every time." She wouldn't look up. My hear was thudding, but not in anger or remorse. None of this bothered me. I tried to break the tension. "Hm." I started. "Damn...and you DID go out dancing a lot." She looked up, caught my smile, shook her head, refusing to smile back. "Hey...Gin...none of that matters. We didn't talk every day. I never thought you'd told me everything, we only talked a few times a week and never for very long. Shit, thinking back, I guess you were too busy to talk for long..." Another attempt at a smile. She looked up again, a small smile in her eyes at least. "You suck." she said. "I'm not trying to be funny here." "Gin...I know...I don't mean to make light. But I'm trying to get the point across that this doesn't change anything. It doesn't change the way I feel about you. Plus...I think there were a few girls in there along the way, including Sarah. You get like a 5 guy deduction for every girl..." She squinted across the table at me, lips tight. Enough with the jokes. I stopped. She continued. "Look. My point is...that feeling. I'd see a guy looking at me, and I'd think "I can get this guy." and I'd get that feeling in my stomach, in my chest, and it was like a drug. And so I'd try to get the guy." "When I lived alone, it was like open season...there was nothing keeping me from just telling a guy to follow me home. Even when I was with Sarah...if we were on different schedules, I'd bring guys home all the time. And she knew it...sometimes she'd get home and it was obvious I'd been with someone and she'd bitch about it, but I couldn't stop myself. Or I didn't want to stop myself." She was rolling now, talking fast. "It wasn't the sex after I'd got him, it was just getting him. Sometimes the sex was a nice bonus, but mostly, by the time he was fucking me, the buzz was gone and I just wanted him gone with it." My cock twitched as she talked about getting fucked, as usual. She'd paused again, was looking at me. "OK..." I ventured. Her tone softened and she squeezed my hand. "When you moved down here to be with me, it was the best thing ever. But I'd still get that feeling whenever some guy checked me out, that fluttering in my stomach and chest. Being with you was so important though, so I stomped on that feeling, did my best to shut it down. And it worked. It was working...until we started this." Now I was uneasy. "Gin...I'm not sure what you're telling me here..." She sighed. "I knew I'd fuck this up." she said frustratedly. "Hey...you're not fucking anything up...I just don't know what you're saying, don't know what you want." "Baby..." a whisper again. "I notice guys looking at me again, and I wonder if I could get them. All the time lately. It doesn't feel right, 'cause I love you more than anything in my life and I can't bear to think of losing you." "You're not gonna lose me if you don't want to." "I don't...I CAN'T. But I feel like I needed to tell you about this feeling in me. I don't want you noticing me when I feel like that and think something's up, or that I'm hiding something from you." "So...all this lovey, touchy passion is because..." "I gave it some thought, Thomas. Obviously I can't go crazy like I used to whenever someone checks me out. So..." I interrupted, held up a hand. "Why is that obvious?" She squinted at me like I was trying to be funny again, but it was a semi-serious question at the time. "Please let me finish...SO I was trying to say...I decided to channel that feeling toward you whenever it happens. Like, someone checks me out, and I wonder if I could get him. If you're nearby, I get close to you and start touching on you. If you're not around, I start thinking what I'm going to do to you next time I see you. It's working out pretty good." I put a half frown on. "Shoot, and here I thought it was my intoxicating charm and male-model good looks behind it..." She squeezed my hand hard, let her nails bite in to my flesh. "Could you NOT be a smart-ass for just a minute now and then?" But she was smiling. "Listen..." she said. "No jokes...I need to know it's OK with you that I feel like that. I tried putting it down, just letting it in when we were out looking for a guy, but I can't seem to. It's like it's on or off." My turn to be serious now. "Look, Gin. I'm a big boy. This was as much my choice as yours, and I'm the one who really pushed for it. We agreed that if neither of us liked it, or stopped liking it, we'd say so. So far I love it though. I get insecure, yes, and I get jealous sometimes, but all that goes away when you come back to me, or when you're like you are when it's just me and you. I'm OK with how you feel. In fact, it's ANOTHER turn on for me, when I felt like there couldn't really be any more. I don't care how many guys you were with before. I like it, actually. And if a guy checking you out results in you jumping on me the next time you see me...how could that be a bad thing?" Her eyes were a little glossy, she was misting up. "C'mon...no need for that now." I brushed her cheek with my hand. "Hey...just two more things..." I said. She nodded her head. "One...and I'm being serious...if you see someone, like even when we're not out looking...I'm OK if you act on it. And two...you were rubbing your foot on my leg pretty intensely before we started to talk...someone around here sneaking peaks?" She blushed, leaned in closer. "Answer one...thanks for saying so, and maybe I will if the timing is right, but I need to be more careful now than I was back then. And answer two, the guy a little behind you and to my right, off your left shoulder, is eying me up whenever his wife looks anywhere away from him." I feigned looking around for our waitress to get a look at the guy. Not bad. His wife actually looked dynamite from what I could see of her. A squeeze on my hand. "You checking out his wife?" I felt myself blushing, but she had a playful smile on her face as I turned back to her. "Of course not, baby..." I said. So that's how it went. We got better at talking about things that made us uneasy, and that made things all that much hotter when it came to sex. There have been too many nights to detail, and while every one of them has been great, two really stand out for me. Early in the fall on an evening we'd planned out, she texted me at work to say she'd be working late and would meet me at the bar we planned to start at. I told her I'd wait, but she told me to scope the place so that if it sucked, we wouldn't waste time and could move on. I figured she'd be behind me, going home herself to freshen up, so grabbed a table that gave a good view of the bar and ordered a drink. It was about 2/3 full, looked like a good crowd. I texted her after my drink came to see how she was making out. "Already here" came her response. I looked around, surprised, didn't see her. I sent the name of the bar, thinking maybe I'd gone to the wrong place, wondering how she could have beat me to it. Just then, my waitress approached and put another drink down in front of me. I looked at her...my first was only barely touched. "Compliments of the lady at the end of the bar." she said. I looked to the bar, no one looking over, only a woman with dark hair, black it seemed from where I sat, near the end. The waitress walked away, and the woman at the end spun slowly on her stool to face me. It was Ginger...but it wasn't Ginger. She had on a tight black mini dress and 4-inch chunky heels. She stood and walked toward me, reached the table. "Ginger? What are you doing?" She looked at me. "Ginger? You must have me mistaken for someone else. Sorry, I can leave if you're expecting someone...I thought you were alone." I didn't know what to say. She was obviously playing with me. I decided to try and play along. She broke the awkward silence. "Who are you waiting for?" "I was supposed to meet my wife..." "Ohhhh...married guy. Well then, sorry, I'll leave you to your wife." She turned. "No...no....I...uh..I don't think she's coming." She turned back around, stepped closer. "So...this seat isn't taken?", gesturing toward the empty chair. I stood quickly, pulled it out for her. "Mmmm...a gentleman...thank you." as she sat down. She proceeded to play act at choosing me like she'd choose her guys. It was surreal, looking over to see my wife's face framed by black hair. She'd put on makeup much differently than normal too. And she didn't once slip and let on any notion that she knew who I was. We drank a while, she was getting drunk. She started getting touchy with me, slid her chair around so she was close to me. I felt her foot on my leg under the table. Her hand caressed mine. Eventually she slipped a hand to my leg. I felt like I was getting a first-hand view at what she'd been up to when we went looking for other guys. I wanted to touch her leg, but incredibly I was nervous to try. Finally I slid my hand under the table. She didn't break stride in the conversation, and after a few seconds she shifted to open her legs a little, inviting my hand higher. Not long after, she squeezed my hand where it rested on her thigh and said "Hey...it's getting late and I should go." "Go? It's not too late." I objected. "Hmm...my husband will be worried." she said. I tried to act surprised. "You didn't tell me you were married." I said. "You didn't ask. Anyway...I need to go. Walk me to my car?" I paid the check, followed her outside, assuming we'd get in my car and drive home. She kept walking though, threading through cars toward the back of the lot. It was darker, the highway wasn't far away and cars were zipping by. Her car was parked about as far as you could get from the front of the hotel. She got to the drivers door, turned, leaned up against it. As I caught up with her, she kissed me and said "Thanks for the drinks...why don't I do something to repay the favor..." and was suddenly on her knees before me, undoing my pants. She sucked my cock right there in the parking lot between her car and another. I staggered and leaned back against the other car, watched her as she did it. She got me close a couple of times, and I thought she'd bring me off there. It was a huge turn on. After the second time she stopped me from cumming, she stood, tottered a little, still drunk, then pulled me toward the front of her car. "C'mere" she said huskily. She jumped slightly, got her ass on the hood of her car, and pulled me to her. Before I knew what was happening I was inside her. She leaned back, laid down on the hood as I started to pump in to her. "Oh jesus...you are a dirty little fucking slut..." I said breathlessly. She looked up at me wickedly, said "S'matter...you never fucked a woman outside a bar before?" I hadn't. I wouldn't last long, and there'd be no stopping me when I did. She sensed it, pulled my hand to her clit. I began rubbing it with my thumb as I fucked her, felt her back arch, and emptied myself in to her as she convulsed beneath me. She pushed me back, stood on wobbly legs, and said "Now I'm really late...I need to go." and she started walking back to the entrance. I caught up. "Hey...your car?" I asked, still playing along. "I can't drive like this...I'll get a cab..." There were two at the entrance, and she walked away from me quickly, hopped in to one without looking back, and was gone. I thought I was still OK to drive, so got in my car and went home. I passed the cab on its way out as I drove down our street. She met me inside the door, and she played like she'd been out fucking someone else. I'd recovered enough for it to turn me on again, and we spent another couple of hours playing while she told me what a slut she'd been that night. Hearing it from her perspective, despite my being there the whole time, was an amazing turn-on. I was reeling from that one for days, and I was all over her at night while her hair stayed dark. She dyed it back to match her natural color the next weekend, once the roots started to grow out, but it had definitely been a hot week. The other night stands out partly because it reminded me of a joke, and partly because it set us toward an experience that proved a real test of our relationship and how we handled this new lifestyle. There's a joke where a young couple falls on hard times after both have lost their jobs. They have no money for food and are about to lose their house and become homeless. In desperation, the husband decides that the wife must turn to prostitution until they can find steady work. They're young and she is very attractive. She's a good christian girl however, and objects mightily. She's only ever been with her husband and can't imagine being with a stranger. They argue, but given no reasonable alternative, she finally agrees. They dress her as provocatively as her wardrobe will accommodate and drive to a part of town known for such activity. The husband agrees to hide in an alley nearby in case she needs help, as she is deathly afraid of what's going to happen to her. After a short while walking back and forth near the alley, a car pulls to the curb. The husband watches as the driver beckons her to the passenger window. She leans in, they talk, and then she stands and scurries back to the alley, unsteady on her high heels. "He wants to know how much for a fuck." she tells her husband. "OK." he says. "We covered this, but again, it's 100 bucks if he wants to fuck you." "I know,I remember that." she says. "But he says he doesn't have 100 bucks." "Oh...well...shit...well, tell him he can get a blow job for 50 bucks." he tells her. She nods, the thought having not occurred to her, and walks quickly back to the car. As the husband watches, she again leans in, then stands again and hurries back to the alley.