0 comments/ 160066 views/ 6 favorites Ginny Lays Her Claim By: jay.palin This is the second chapter of a series. The characters and their situation were developed in the first chapter, entitled GINNY REMEMBERS DADDY. For continuity, it’s better to read that chapter first. Many thanks for your votes and supportive feedback. “Hi, JJ,” purred the dulcet feminine tones into the phone as I picked it up. “This is Jay,” I responded, flatly. “I know, silly, it’s Ginny. After yesterday I’ve decided to call you ‘JJ.’ Do you like my new nickname for you?” “Well…it’s better than ‘Daddy’. What’s up?” I asked quietly, looking around to see if anybody in the office was listening. “I can’t get you out of my mind. Can I see you today?” asked my 20 year-old prospective daughter. “Umm…I’m jammed. Everyone’s here and we’re struggling to meet a client deadline. May have to work over the weekend. Looks like Monday – maybe Tuesday -- before I’ve got any time,” I answered. “Oooo, I need my JJ fix,” Ginny said, petulantly. “I had fantastic dreams last night and I ache for you.” I was standing at the desk of one of my employees and he looked up, curious to know with whom I was speaking. Cautiously, I said, “Listen, give me your number and I’ll call you back, okay?” I went to my office, closed the door, and called Ginny on my private line. “Hello-o,” she crooned. “Sorry I was so brusque, but it’s best to use the private line,” I cautioned. “Now listen, Ginny, I told you maybe we should have lunch next week and set some ground rules,” reflecting on the fabulous afternoon of fucking we’d had the day before. “Yeah, I know, but I just can’t wait that long. I’m a little…you know…itchy inside, and every time I think of yesterday I wanna’ be with you,” she almost whined. “Me too, honey, but I can’t possibly do it,” I said, trying to pacify her. “Besides, you and Mike have plenty of time for each other,” speaking of my stepson. “You should be doing marathon bedroom rehearsals for your honeymoon.” “That’s different, JJ,” said Ginny. “Don’t you see that?” “All I know is that we’ve got to be extra careful about our…meetings,” I maneuvered. “And if yesterday is any indication, we should meet where we can talk rationally and…be on our best behavior under the prying eyes of the public.” “Do you know how sexy your voice is?” she asked. “I’m wet.” “Please don’t start, Ginny,” I said, weakening. I’m very attracted to you, too, but let’s get serious,” I continued. “I’ve got a business to run, and a lot of people are depending on me.” God, I thought to myself, I sound every bit the pompous, fifty-year-old that I am. Then, images of her came to mind: her sweet breath…her smooth, alabaster skin…thick, blonde hair…lithe, hard, 20 year-old body…the taste of her nipples and crotch…her deep, brown eyes. “Where are you now?” I asked. “In the kitchen. Mom’s at work. I’m in my bathrobe. Wanna’ hear more?” she questioned, suggestively. “Uhhh…no! I’m getting hard just talking with you,” and I was. “Oh, God, JJ, take it out and stroke it…please!” Ginny begged. “Oooo, I can just see it!” “No! The door’s unlocked and I don’t need to surprise anybody walking in,” I objected. This was getting weird. I’d done phone sex before but was now in danger once again of playing into Ginny’s demanding hands, possibly with very embarrassing consequences. “My robe’s open, JJ. I’m rubbing my pussy. God, I’m so wet! Mmm, I haven’t showered…I smell so dirty…I taste so…good,” she murmured thickly, as I heard her licking her fingers. “Can you see me doing myself, JJ?” her voice smooth as velvet. “God, Ginny, don’t…” I pleaded. “I want you to hear my pussy…listen,” she whispered salaciously. I distinctly heard her labia smacking as she held the handset close to her snatch. Over and over I detected the soft, liquid, lapping sounds of her inner lips being probed by her insistent fingers. I imagined that magnificently hot, gooey, orifice growing inflamed as she humped her hand in a practiced fashion. “Wait a sec, JJ,” Ginny gasped quickly, putting down the phone. I hadn’t heard a doorbell, so assumed it was for some reason other than receiving a visitor. I heard a rustling sound, then water running for a minute, and she returned to the phone. “I had to get something,” she panted. “What?” I asked. “A helper,” Ginny giggled. “A big, fat, juicy cucumber. I had to warm it up under the tap,” she confessed. “Now I’m gonna’ sit on the bar stool and fuck myself with it. With you 25 miles away, it’s gonna’ have to do. You know I’ve got a vivid imagination!” What could I say? I listened -- curious -- breathing heavily into the phone as the lusty girl began pleasuring herself. “Now just go along with me, JJ, okay?,” Ginny murmured. “Ooooh, you’re so hard, so thick, rubbing your big cock up and down my slit. Mmm, yeah, I’m getting all hot and juicy again. Ooooh, yeah… yeah…oooh, you’re all the way inside, JJ…can you feel me?” she asked, hoping I was still along for the ride. Impotently, I mumbled, “Yeah, sweetness, I’m with you,” feeling myself succumb again to her lust. My cock, by this time, was painfully erect in my pants. “Then talk dirty to me, like you did yesterday, re…mem…ber?” she asked haltingly. Yielding to the moment, I said, “Okay, honey. Turn the stool around, lean back against the counter. There is a counter, right?” I questioned, softly, helping her manufacture the fantasy. “Mmm-hmmmm,” she acknowledged. Putting on my most seductive phone voice, I directed her: “Now…put one foot on the rung of the bar stool. Rub your hand all over your pussy…lightly…and your clit. Spread your other leg really wide and pull it up. Rest your heel on the seat. Comfortable?” She groaned affirmatively. I continued. “Now imagine I’m standing in front of you…and we’re fucking. I’m doing you slowly, turning my cock in circles inside you. Make sure you rub your clit each time I push in! That’s it. Oh, yeah…yeah. Feels good, huh!” “Oh, God, JJ, it DOES feel good, God you’re so good. You’re a genius. God…damn you’re good!” she exclaimed, breathlessly. “Yeah, talk to me, baby. Feel me fuck you,” I urged. “Ahh, God, you’re incredible! Your hot cunt is gonna’ milk the cum right out of me. Ooo, you’re so tight! Uh, feel my big cock hit bottom, Ginny? Feel the head bang into you? Huh? Feel it pull the love juice out of you? Feel it touch all those ridges inside your cunt? Huh?” I asked, picturing her plunge that green cucumber in and out of her tasty vagina. “Ohhh, Daddyyyy,” she whined. “Yeah, baby, we’re fucking,” I continued. “It’s so good. Mmmm, it’s always good. Now I’m rubbing your clit real fast. You’re gonna’ cum, Ginny. You’re gonna’ cum!” She was now breathing hard into the phone; deep, racking breaths that bespoke her bestial hunger. I continued my obscene invocation: “Yeah, sweet Ginny, I’m really doing you fast now. Mmm, yeah, feel that first wave? Feel the tingles? Oh, God, you’re SO wet! Mmmm, feel that surge? Feel that heat move up your body? Oooh, I’m really pounding you now, baby. Pinch your nipples…I’m biting them, softly, now harder! God, your pussy is so hot…your titties are all flushed…nipples so hard. Your eyes are closed, aren’t they. You’re so fucking wet! You wanta’ feel my hot cum splash into you? I’m gonna’ fill you up! Mmm, here comes that next surge in you, sweetie! Stick your tongue in my mouth! Ahhh, you taste good! Oh, yeah, yeah, now you’re gonna’ cum! I feel your pussy tightening…I see your toes are curling, baby! Yeah…yeah. Now CUM! Cum, sweetie! Cum all over me! CUM NOW! Ginny’s cries began scorching the phone line. “Oh, shit, JJ, I…I…cumming! Cu’ing! Oh, fuck, oh please CUM’ WI’ ME! Oh…Jaay-Jaaaay! Oohh…oooooo…ahh…nnngh…anngggh…mmmm. Ahhhmmm, JJ.” Wow! I thought, mopping my feverish brow. That wasn’t easy!, except for how eagerly I’d been her willing pawn. Our telephone quickie had left me breathless…and somewhat embarrassed. “Ohhh, JJ, that was won…derful,” Ginny keened, gasping. “Oooh, I need you here to hug me in your arms. God, I need to taste your kisses. I need your warmth…your big body…your pro…tection…ohhh.” Protection? I thought to myself. What could that possibly mean? Better to file it away. I pictured her limp little body, relaxed in its post-climactic torpor, and began talking her down. “Mmm, baby, I wanta’ be there, holding you, ‘cuz I know how you feel right now. So soft, so loving, so…languid.” Languid! Does she know what that means?, I asked myself. Forget it, you ponderous prick, it’s time to lighten the mood. Spouting a little humor, I demanded: “Now, woman, fix me lunch! I want a cucumber salad! With your special dressing!” Ginny giggled for several seconds. “Oh, JJ, you’re impossible! You’ve got a quip for everything! Don’t ever change your hokey wit!” “I’m a little long in the tooth to change, sugar,” I said, as I looked down at the wet spot on my pants, just at the tip of my flagging erection. “Now, can we talk about next week? How’s Tuesday for lunch? Will you be giving skating lessons at the ice rink?” “Yeah,” she said softly. “But today’s Thursday, JJ. I can’t wait ‘til then.” “Sure you can. Meet me at the office. Got a big weekend planned?” I queried. “Oh, Friday Mike’s coming over and we’re renting a movie,” she groaned. “Saturday night there’s a party, with hundreds of his closest friends.” “Well, honey, remember that I’m thinking of you, and have a stupendous weekend!” I said, patronizingly. “By the way, park in a company spot in the underground garage. That way you won’t get a ticket. I’ve really gotta’ go now! Okay? See you Tuesday!” “JJ? I…I…oh, nothing…” Ginny said, her voice dissolving in a deep sigh. “Later, babe,” I said, signing off. Whew! There’s something worth remembering, I mused. You dog! What a manipulative power freak! Though for the rest of day I wondered which of us had been in control. Ginny called Friday but I was out and missed her. Saturday morning found me in the office with the staff. We worked in the photo studio all day and delivered our drawings and renderings to the client at the end of the day. Saturday night wife Lee and I had a quiet dinner, with some good wine, and turned in after catching a TV movie. Sunday dawned a beautiful, warm, morning and I repaired to the backyard to finish a privacy fence along the rear of the property. Later in the morning Lee came out and said she’d gotten a frantic call from her son Mike. Apparently, he and Ginny had gone to their party the night before, drank a whole lot, did some recreational drugs, and Ginny had flirted openly with a man who “had to be at least 40,” according to Mike. He was beside himself since “she’d been all over the guy.” I asked how it had ended and Lee said that Mike had left, waited in the car, and Ginny had come out about an hour later to go home. They weren’t talking. Lee suggested that they come over to our place so we could help smooth things over. Mike was embarrassed and hesitant, but Ginny was all for it. Jesus! I thought, I can’t say anything to them without Ginny seeing me as the rank hypocrite that I am. Here I am on my fourth marriage, balls-deep into an illicit relationship with my stepson’s intended, and now I’ve got to project the image of a sage. Think! The safe thing is to remain quiet when they’re together, and only offer advice when I’m able to speak to each kid alone. Back to the fence. Physical work will help clear my head, I thought. Right. An hour later the labor was beginning to tell. I was shirtless, with a bandana tied around my head to keep the copious sweat out of my eyes, and mindlessly nailing eight-foot planks, when I looked up to see Ginny staring at me from several feet away with a hint of a smile. “How long have you been standing there?” I asked, pausing to swill some water from a gallon jug. “Oh, a few minutes,” she admitted, idly scratching an itch high on her right thigh. She was a vision of feminine health, dressed in tight, “Daisy Duke” cutoff jeans that accented her creamy, ice skater’s thighs, and a thin, sleeveless, burgundy paisley cotton top that flattered her soft, high, 34 B breasts. Her eye makeup, as always, was flawless…this time in brown tones. Her light blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, enhancing her youthful appearance, and the dozen freckles on her nose made my heart skip a beat. Her white sneakers were offset by thin, white sox that had little brown scalloped ruffles around their short tops. She had petite gold hoops in her earlobes. She could have been a high school cheerleader, except that my memories of her phenomenally skilled body – from just a few days before – belied that image. My groin felt its first sexual throb of the day. She noticed the effect she had on me and -- strutting toward me with her hands clasped behind her, hips swinging seductively -- she stopped no more than three inches from my dripping frame. Tipping her face up to me and audibly breathing in my scent, she murmured: “You look like a huge, Viking, hippie.” “Yeah, Thor with his hammer, right?,” I cracked. “Mmmm, what a magnificent hammer,” she cooed. “Will you nail me?” she asked playfully, moving her uplifted face from one side of my chest and neck to the other, sniffing all the while. Then she lightly kissed my upper chest repeatedly, just below my clavicle, sucking beads of perspiration into her mouth, still with her hands behind her. “God, you taste delicious!” On tiptoe, she whispered into my ear, “Let’s fuck, you outrageous animal!” bathing me with her hot, sweet breath and lavishing me with her satiny lips, like so many butterfly wings. My desire went from zero to excruciating in about 3.5 seconds. Flashes of lusty heat coursed to my crotch. The knees went weak, threatening to buckle. My cock spasmed with each of her kisses. At that moment I honestly felt that it’d been years since I’d been so excited. So, like the cautious fool that I am I stepped back…searching for words. “Shit! Where’s Lee?” I asked. “In the house, talking with Mike,” she said. “She told me to come out and talk with you while you worked. So…?” We were some distance from the house, and were shielded from it by the nearly-completed fence. An open field faced us on our side. No onlookers, so far as I could tell. “Umm, let’s sit down in the shade,” I said, nodding to a tree some twenty feet away. Ginny sat against the tree trunk, facing away from the house, and I claimed a spot at a discreet distance, facing her so that I could see anyone coming around the fence. “Lee says she got a panicky call from Mike this morning. About the party. Do you want to talk about it?” I asked. “There’s nothing to tell, JJ,” she responded softly. “I was so lonely for you since we did our…you know…our phone thing on Thursday, and I was frantic when I couldn’t reach you on Friday. The party last night was such a bore, with all those young guys having chug-a-lug contests, so when this older man, Craig, started paying attention to me, it felt good,” Ginny explained. “Well, it’s none of my business what you do, but I can see why Mike might not understand,” I said. “You are going to be married, you know.” “Nothing happened, JJ! Craig and I danced, nuzzled a little bit, he tried to kiss me goodnight later – he smelled bad -- and I went home with Mike. Mike’s friends are a drag. If it’s not skiing or motorcycling or fishing, it doesn’t interest them! I was on my own for a year touring with the ice show. I had plenty of guys, and not one ever interested me as much as you, and I’ve known you less than a week!” Ginny stated. “It’s as if Mike wants me as a trophy!” she flashed, angrily. “Well, that’s just too limiting, too confining, too stul…stulti…” “Stultifying?” I interrupted. “Yes! Stultifying! With you I feel like an adult, a very desirable adult. Someone who’s appreciated. God, when we make love…” she stopped, “when we fuck, I feel like I’m liberated from an existence that’s deadly dull! And…” she paused, “I can never remember being so turned on!” “I’m very flattered,” I confessed. “You should be” Ginny said. “I’m very discriminating. And part of my feeling is because I know what I do for you. Last Wednesday I saw your incredible intensity -- your deep, festering cynicism -- melt when you held me. You were so vulnerable! I wanted to weep when I came with you! I could easily become addicted to that.” “Wow, girl,” I blanched. “Enough confessions, okay? Let’s process all this and – on Tuesday in the cold light of another day – we’ll continue our talk.” “Alright,” she countered, “but enough of the innocent little Ginny who’s so scattered she doesn’t know where she’s going or what she’s doing! Then, softly, she said, “I want to have a baby. Mike happens to be a nice guy who I think will make a good father. And I choose you to help me smooth over the rough spots… . Simple! Now can we fuck, Daddy?” I just about shit my pants. Like me, she wants it both ways! “No, baby, it’s too dangerous here. We’ll be caught.” “Then let’s go for a walk. You’ve got your cell phone. Call Lee and tell her we’ll be back in a while. That little grove of trees over there looks like a great spot,” Ginny suggested. Submitting, and feeling surprised by Ginny’s display of candor and self-confidence, though a bit ruffled by her dictates, I said: “No, I’ll go back and fill the water jug and tell her. See you in a second.” Back in the house Lee was lecturing son Mike. Grinning innocently, I apologized for interrupting -- as the room went quiet -- and said: “Ginny’s been helping me. We’re gonna’ take a walk break. Had to grab some water. Be back in a while.” As I left I heard Lee return to her lecture on the duties of a young husband. Under the tree I discovered that Ginny had removed her french-cut panties and re-donned her cutoffs. She held their moist crotch under my nose and stuffed them in my pocket, mumbling: “These are my first gift to you.” I put on my shirt, to her objections, and we strolled through the waist-high grass toward the woods a short distance away with her holding the back of my shirttail. Beneath the tree canopy Ginny was on me. Her eyes shown hungrily as she instantly unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down with my boxers. Her hot, velvety mouth enveloped my cock and I needed no further urging. I was hard to the point of bursting. I backed against a tree and surveyed the empty landscape, as she hobbled after me on her knees, slurping audibly and jerking my tool with her soft hands. “Oh, yeah, JJ, I want to drink your cum,” she gasped. “Cum quick, so I can get you hard again and fuck you…please!” Ginny sucked me mercilessly. The day’s earlier work had coated my genitals with the slick, acrid, odorous sheen of the archetypal sweaty male. Licking my balls and between my legs, she devoured the moistness with mewling alacrity. “Mmmm, this is my JJ’s syrup,” she said to no one in particular. “You taste …divine,” she exclaimed, carefully choosing the word between thrusts of her bobbing head. “I want to mix this with your cream. Oooh, please give it to me, JJ! Give it all to me!” She planted her nose in my wet pubic batch and swallowed several times to deeply massage the glans of my penis, then pulled back to lave it, humming all the while and jacking me rapidly with both palms. That acid taste rose in the back of my throat as I tried restraint, but I could not wait this day. I moaned each time Ginny thrust her face forward to receive me: ”Uhh…uhhh…uhhh,” I grunted, wanting to blow my load and have her swallow it all. Then doing something I very seldom do, I grabbed her exquisite blonde head in my hands and began furiously plowing her mouth. Her lovely, long jaw engulfed me completely as her lips stretched out to capture my cock. Struggling to place her hands flat on my thighs to temper my thrusts, though trying to encourage me, she gasped her approval: “Unngh…yeah, JJ…glbb…fuck …my mouth…blkk…fuck me…in my mouth…igkk…fuck…hot mouth…lllk…cum…nnnghk…please…fill…mmguh…mouth.” Ginny Lays Her Claim All thought was gone. My sole desire was to achieve blessed relief in Ginny’s body. Her mouth just happened to be the willing recipient of my offering. It could’ve been any other orifice, but I needed her beautiful mouth, graced with perfect white teeth, a mouth out of which could come sublime poetic utterings…or the foulest curses imaginable. I opened my eyes, straining to keep my vision -- with my legs burning from bloodless tension as I plunged deeply into her throat – and, growling “Ginny, Ginnny, Ginnnny,” released what seemed a lifetime of semen into her. She moaned and mewled as I pumped shot after shot into her spasming gullet, selfishly claiming what at that moment I knew was mine and mine alone. I whimpered as my abdominal muscles lurched involuntarily until I was empty. Looking up at me, she gurgled gently: “See, baby, the pain’s all gone from your eyes.” She then opened her mouth widely, stirring her little tongue around in the reservoir of cum still there – displaying for me the viscous strands that coated her teeth, gums and epiglottis – and swallowed with a gulp. “Thank you, sweet JJ. That’s the finest gift you can give me.” I pulled her up to me, feeling absolutely overcome, and wished that the afternoon would never end. Nary a drop of my spunk had escaped her ravenous mouth. I kissed that magic opening – silently objecting to the taste of my cum -- and we melted into a full body kiss worthy of a Hollywood shot. It must have looked amusing to the chattering squirrel above us, since I alone was naked below the waist, my pants and shorts drooped around my ankles. Not for long, however. Running my hands all over Ginny’s covered breasts, I began to unbutton her top to bare her tits. She stiffened and shook her head “no” (of course!, too many clothes to put on if we were interrupted), and instead I quickly stripped her of her cutoffs. This was going to have to be fast. I kneeled before her, nuzzled her sopping blonde snatch with my nose, and embedded my tongue deeply into her center. She threw back her head and groaned: “Ohh, God, JJ…baby…it seems like it’s been so long.” Leaning back on my haunches, I put each of her legs over my shoulders so she was sitting on my supporting hands in the air. Grabbing my head for leverage, she began whining as I tongued her, beginning with her perineum – her taint -- all the way up to her clit. Then I returned to her cunt. I wanted to squeeze out of her every drop of fluid that I could. She obliged me with a flood of juice, which I let course down my throat using my tongue as a curved trough. “Ohh, JJ, ohhh, JJ, oh, sweetie, I want you inside me now! Please!” Setting her on her feet, I relaxed my cramping arms and lay down on my back, astonished by the fact that my erection had returned so quickly. Looking down at me from full height, with her seemingly-famished brown eyes, Ginny inched slowly up toward my chest with a leg on either side. Looking up, caressing her shapely calves up to the thighs, I marveled at the exquisite architecture of this woman. Her naked, muscled body that I’d first seen (what was it?) four days ago rose out of the grass to end at the bottom of her blouse, revealing a few inches of her flat belly that was stretched between barely-discernible hip bones and punctuated by the smallest of navels. Her sparsely-covered golden mound was glistening with dew in the sunlight. Below, her outer cunt lips were partially open, like a little clam oozing its own, life-sustaining fluid. Though not a religious man, I conceded that there must be a God. Otherwise, how to explain such a sublimely succulent creation? Standing on her feet, Ginny dropped to squat onto my prong and -- expertly guiding it to her opening – quickly ground her dripping cunt down my thick length with an audible slisshh! “Aahhh,” she exhaled, and closed her eyes as an almost beatific smile crossed her lovely face. If we’d been stark naked, in a different life it might seem as if we were two sub-human primates just discovering a new, more pleasurable, coital position. Out there in the dry grass under some trees, we fucked one another first slowly, then more rapidly, until we were both plunging at one another as if to exorcise some shared demon. At first she grabbed my shoulders for support -- moaning as she pounded me -- and straightened up to use, first my chest, then my forearms. We were perfectly fitted, and moved like a superbly counterbalanced machine. The curious squirrel scampered close by, munching a nut as our bodies toiled, then fled as Ginny began to grunt throatily: “Un…unh…ungh.” The witnessing birds in the trees above us seemed to sense something as they grew silent from our feral sounds and slapping bodies. Plop…plop…plop, smacked our heaving loins. And we were burning up. Ginny had soaked through her blouse everywhere and our junction was slick with sweat and her delectable juices. I was the joyous recipient of her body’s fluids, now dripping from her face, glistening belly, trembling, ivory arms, thighs…and her soaking tunnel. Still smiling, her face took on a look of intense concentration as her quivering cunt began to tighten. I knew she was close, and wanted more than anything to make her climax extraordinary. So, I decided not to cum. Her grunts changed to gasps: “Eeeyuh, ah…ah…ah,” and “ooo…ooo…oh…oh.” I looked quickly around and spied a lone, golden poppy a foot away. Picking it, I held it up to Ginny and she opened her eyes. “Ah…ahhh…aaiieeeeee!,” she screeched, shrieking so loudly our flock of birds took flight. Collapsing on me, she thrust her cunt at me like a trip hammer as she scaled her orgasmic peak. Then, “Mm…mm…mm…mmm…mmmm…,” she moaned, coming down from its summit. I hugged her to me, kissing her deeply, and she rose slightly to reveal tears dripping from her deep brown eyes. “Ohhh, that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done to me,” she sobbed. “Oh, God, God, God, JJ, I love it I love it, I lo…” “Baby, baby, baby,” I interrupted. “Don’t say any more,” always guarding against the “L word.” “Remember, we’re gonna’ talk about all this Tuesday. Okay? Okay, sweetheart?” “Oohhh, you didn’t cum, JJ,” she whimpered, clutching herself to me. “Why didn’t you cum?” “I was transported by you and what you were feeling,” I said. “It isn’t often I get to fuck my almost daughter in the outdoors,” I ventured, feebly. That was the partial truth. After Ginny had sucked me to completion, I don’t believe I could have cum for hours. “Besides, this way you won’t have me running down your legs in your cutoffs.” “You can justify anything, can’t you,” she whispered, coolly. “Practical man, sweets, practical man.” “Yeah, practical man with the appetite of a satyr,” she grinned. “Well, this satyr thinks it’s time to get back. Use my bandana to wipe yourself, honey. Throw on your shorts and run back to the house. Tell ‘em we disagreed about your party behavior, separated, and you decided to run off your anger. I’ll be along in a while.” She dressed quickly and – kissing me wetly as we parted – said: “Okay, love. See you at the house. Don’t be long!” I walked home slowly and was disappointed that Ginny and Mike had left. I finished the fence and, while taking a satisfying pee in the grass, licked from my fingers Ginny’s smelly, moist residue coating my cock. Pulling her panties from my pocket, I inhaled her pungent stench as visions of her youthful passion visited me. I was beginning to understand how easy it could be to become enslaved to our illicit pleasure. Monday passed with no call from Ginny. I was relieved. Maybe she’d taken to heart my pleas for caution and restraint. Tuesday I was in my office groove and working in the photo studio, a wooden structure behind the two-story building on the street that houses our offices and some apartments. We’re situated in a college town – where I got my university degrees – and our custom home design business is in a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood. At about 11 o’clock I got a call from the front office saying Ginny had arrived for lunch…one hour early! I asked for her to be put on the phone, and she excitedly said: “Hi! One of the kids cancelled so I just came on over.” A bit exasperated, I said, “I’m kinda’ busy right now with a couple of people, Gin. Why don’t you sit on the balcony outside my inner office and watch the people go by? I’ll be up in a little while.” “Is it okay if I smoke?,” she asked, referring, no doubt, to some of her fine weed. “Sure. Grab a newspaper and I’ll see you in a bit,” I said, hoping she’d not get too stoned to talk over lunch. A while later I took the elevator up and met Ginny on the balcony, her heavy-lidded brown eyes revealing the effects of the joint she’d consumed. We embraced, with her molding herself to me and whispering, “God, it’s so good to see you!” as my arms encircled her lush, firm body. I inhaled her multitude of scents: the newly-shampooed golden hair, brushed loosely, the hint of perfume at the nape of her neck, the fresh odor of her clothing, and, as she touched my face with her hand, the unmistakable odor of her musk as she ran a finger under my nose. “Like it?” she questioned, her eyes shining. “Whoa,” I protested, weakly, “let me look at you.” Again, Ginny was breathtaking. She was wearing a light tan, linen, blazer, beautifully-tailored to her curvy torso and extending over her hips. Her top was a knit, claret-colored piece with a scooped neck that showed just a hint of the swelling upper portions of her breasts, held in place by what had to be a push-up bra. She was poured into a pair of expertly-faded, skin-tight blue jeans with two large, long, brass zippers that started at the waist and extended down the front part of each leg to mid-thigh. At their cuffs, two more zippers closed the pants tightly around each delectable ankle. On her feet were brown penny loafers with ribbed white socks. What a contrast to Sunday’s cheerleader! Her eye makeup, rouge and lip gloss matched her top, all suggesting a fine red wine. Her pierced ears each held a small diamond stud. Today she looked for all the world like a tasteful young grad student, perhaps meeting an aging, lecherous professor for drinks at the Faculty Club. I heartily approved of the image. “What’s the photo studio?” she asked. “It’s where we do all our photography, assemble presentation folders, do marketing videos and stuff. It’s the support workshop for all our design work,” I responded. “Sometimes we rent out the space for short periods. I’ll show it to you later. Right now, let’s be off. I missed breakfast and could eat a frozen dog. Italian food O.K.?” “Mm-hmm,” she said. We took the elevator down to the dark parking garage and jumped into one of the company pick-up trucks. “Don’t mind the redneck limo, do you?” I joked, weakly. Apparently she didn’t, because she leapt at me, jamming her tongue into my mouth then – rising to her knees – began covering my face with hot, wet, kisses. “God, you big stud. I’ve gotta’ taste you,” she rasped. Her hand groped my crotch, and she started unzipping me. “Honeeey!” I objected, determined to stave off her voracious appetite. “C’mon, let’s go to lunch.” “Ohh-kay,” she pouted, re-seating herself. “Can I at least sit close to you?” she asked. “Sure,” I agreed, folding up the console so she could slide next to me and buckle up. “Better?” “Mm, yeah,” she murmured, laying her head on my shoulder and grabbing and stroking my right thigh from knee to crotch. “By the way, I know why you selected this building for your office.” “Yeah? Why?” I asked, as I started the engine. “Because of the women, JJ! I just spent an hour on your balcony and saw at least a dozen beautiful women walk past. You’re impossible. It’s a wonder you’re not dead from prostate failure, or some sexually-transmitted disease,” she scolded with a chortle. As we exited the garage, an apartment-dwelling neighbor drove in past us. It was Swati, though she calls herself Erica, a 26 year-old East Indian Hindu woman who’s doing her residency at a local hospital. Seeing it was me, she beamed a stunning, sultry, smile and wiggled her fingers at me in casual greeting. “See what I mean?” Ginny said. Ooops, I thought. Erica saw Ginny next to me. She knows I’m married. In fact, that’s the excuse I used to keep her at bay when she visited me one long afternoon and, very directly, asked me to come to her place, smoke a water bong, and fuck. “Because I like very much big, sandy-haired European types,” she’d then admitted with her coal-black eyes. “Oh, Ginny, she just lives in the building. The neighborhood’s full of grad students and young professionals,” I explained, hoping that Erica wouldn’t ask any embarrassing questions later. “I saw how she looked at you, JJ,” she admonished, then changed the subject: “I went to the doctor yesterday and had a whole battery of tests. Haven’t been feeling really well. My stomach’s been upset. He diagnosed ‘irritable bowel syndrome’ and prescribed some drugs – muscle relaxants – and suggested a few other things to make me feel better.” “God, Ginny, I’m surprised. You’re the picture of health. Uhh, I hope the medications won’t – you know -- affect you too much!” I ventured. “Don’t be silly, big guy,” she whispered moistly in my ear, “my pussy’ll always be extra tight for you.” Hm! So much for a cool, rational, lunch conversation, I thought. We drove a few miles to the restaurant, an Italian trattoria with some outdoor tables. “Wanta’ eat al fresco?,” I asked. “Sure. If we can fuck outside, we can definitely eat outside,” Ginny quipped. We picked a corner table in the outdoor patio, in some shade, under a Cinzano umbrella. I sat with my back in the corner, with Ginny across from me at a two-person table. We had no sooner sat down when I felt her shoeless foot begin to massage my crotch. I responded with a startled wince, but didn’t acknowledge Ginny’s playful look. “Now, babe, I’m going to bore you with a synopsis of my life,” I began. “As you know, I’m a dirty old man. I’ve had hundreds of women. The reasons aren’t important. They stem from childhood. At times I’ve sought professional help for my obsession with women. If not for retroactive birth control, and some unfortunate circumstances, I’d have seven kids. My daughter’s family and Lee’s kids keep me busy enough. A good friend who’s a psychiatrist says that I’m a misogynist – a woman hater – with excessive sexual desire. Regardless, I’m content with my existence now and look forward to a life with a rocking chair, Medicare payments and Summer cruises with AARP members.” Ginny laughed at my description. “You’re not a woman hater! You’re just afraid of missing some hot babe! Well, I told you what I wanted on Sunday. I’m a lot like you, except that I’m not going to go through life fucking every person who turns me on. At the same time I’m realistic enough to know that Mike can’t give me everything I need. He’s intimidated by you, by the way. He says that if he were built like you he’d have become a professional athlete. The amazing thing is…is that he doesn’t even recognize that you have a great mind, and experience that few people have. I see all those things. I can learn from you. And your body just drives me crazy, even when I’m at home just thinking about you! So…” “So we’re stuck on the horns of this dilemma, huh?” I concluded. The waiter came and we ordered, a ravioli dish for me and an antipasto salad for Ginny…and a bottle of chianti. “Why is it a dilemma, JJ?” asked Ginny, as her toes slowly stroked my member to rigidity under the table. “Please give me your hand,” she added, softly wrapping her small, soft hand around two of my fingers and slowly stroking them in a suggestive fashion. “Because I’m old…50! In 10 or so years – certainly 20 – I’ll be too aged for our peccadilloes and you’ll be at your sexual peak,” I tried to reason. “You’re trying to tell me you’re unwilling to be with me now because some day you won’t be able to?,” she asked. “That’s ridiculous,” she snorted, draining her wine glass, which the wandering waiter promptly refilled. He also lingered too long, noticing her busy toes through the glass-topped table. “JJ, right now I’m trying to get my fill of you. It’ll cool, sure. And I’ll become more mature and discreet. One more thing, the doctor wants me to go off the pill. I’d be a fool to right now but, when Mike and I are married I will…and I’ll still want you,” she emphasized. I froze. Ginny was letting her hormones drive her, and I was allowing mine once again to threaten my entire existence. Thank God the food arrived. We began eating and sipping wine. Needless to say, I was also sporting a proud erection due to Ginny’s ministrations under the table. “I know that this threatens you, JJ,” Ginny continued. “Your nice office and your ever-changing harem of young women could keep you content and whoring until you died of Alzheimer’s, but I know that I can keep you happy and…love you…yes, love you, unlike this endless parade of horny broads.” “That’s what Lee’s for, Ginny, and ‘whoring’ is a little strong,” I said. “Maybe, but you’re not letting her! And -- you know -- as attractive as she is, she’s getting older. I know you see it…but she can’t keep up with that strange skirt you’re always chasing, can she? Well, in a while I won’t be a strange skirt either. But at least I’ll keep you so satisfied -- catering to that prurient imagination of yours -- that you’ll never know when…or where…or how I’m going to jump your bones,” she said, as she pushed away her unfinished salad and grabbed my hand again, this time clutching three fingers. “You have no idea how different, sexy, appetizing, and ‘strange’ I can be from day-to-day,” she said, narrowing her eyes for emphasis. Ginny was making points, and she knew it. My conservative logic began to crumble, and I tried an oblique approach: “What did you mean on the phone about me ‘protecting’ you?” I asked, taking a generous sip of wine. “You’ll protect me from boredom, JJ, as I will you!” she asserted. “I can think of nothing worse than being just a suburban housewife and mother, much as I hunger for motherhood. My mom did that and she’s been lost since Daddy died. She’s in a downward spiral…takes drugs…sleeps with dirt-ball men, and is sick all the time. I can’t teach kids to skate forever, nor do I want to. I want to get a technical job in the medical field and have some sort of career -- just to remain financially secure -- and also be a parent…with you there to ‘liberate’ me when I’m feeling down. I know you understand,” Ginny stated, basically staking her claim on me. I had to admit that I did. Ginny wanted something like what I had: superficially, a conventional life, somewhat cultured – books, art, music, theatre and all that -- with a relieving garnishment in the form of an erotic neurosis. “But when I’m gone, Ginny, or when you decide to dump me…”. “That’s not gonna’ happen, JJ. I admit I’ve got a jealous streak, but I also know I can’t reform you, so you won’t be blackmailed. And, I won’t dump you. I’m a realist…you’re too good a man. As far as your dying is concerned, it’s inevitable. I might die early too, you know,” she said, cautiously. “And we’ll have fun, JJ,” Ginny went on. “You know my muscle relaxants? Look on the positive side! They can only make our sex better! And soon you’ll recognize my signals when we’re with other people: when you see me smell my finger you’ll know I want to fuck; when I shake my head ‘no,’ it means for whatever reason we can’t do it right then; when I find a reason to touch you -- innocently or otherwise -- it means I want you so badly I can taste you, even though maybe we can’t do anything right then; when I think of other signs -- like raising my eyebrows or eating a banana -- I’ll let you know,” chuckled my delightful little co-conspirator. Ginny Lays Her Claim “This signal thing is something like what my old friend Carol and I have, though obviously for different messages. It’s great when we’re around strangers or family and want to communicate secrets. You’ll have to meet her,” Ginny explained. Then she said: “It’s O.K., JJ, she’s married and I’ve known her forever.” “Oh, one more thing: last week when we did…uh…anal -- when you took me in the ass -- I loved it!” Looking around, she lowered her voice and said: “I’m gonna’ keep myself clean for you back there…”. Momentarily, I pictured her on a toilet, administering an enema. I just looked at her, emptied the bottle into our glasses, and toasted her mutely. We finished, paid the check, and left, much to the bemused look of the waiter eyeing my discomfort as I rearranged the bulge in my pants. As I held the truck door open for her, Ginny touched me lightly on the side of my face and fixed me with a gentle look that seemed to assuage my uneasiness. This kid was brutally direct – yet sensitive -- extraordinarily honest…and cunningly perceptive. Finally, she said: “I won’t call you ‘Daddy’ anymore, either.” On the way back, the radio was playing the Adagio of Spartacus and Phrygia by Khachaturian, a very romantic piece. Staying unbuckled, Ginny began stroking my crotch lightly, then grasped my rod through my trousers. She quickly unzipped me, pulling my cock awkwardly from its refuge and began breathing on it hotly, then she slowly engulfed me in her velvet mouth. Stretching across the seat, she sucked me very softly, moving her head up…then down…with agonizing lethargy. I couldn’t help moaning “Oooooh…ooooooh…,” as she continued her deliberations. She then confined her attention to the head of my cock, moving her mouth no more than two inches up and down, while jacking me with her hand in a twisting motion. Though the pick-up is higher than most cars, busses and delivery trucks were afforded a ringside seat into the cab as we drove back slowly. Several traffic lights and pedestrian crossings allowed the mildly curious to glance at us, with me gritting my teeth and moaning, as Ginny continued her stately torture of me. A bus pulled to a stop in the curb lane while we were waiting at a light. A very elderly lady looked down into the cab to see Ginny’s head moving slowly up and down on my lap, looked at the sheepish grin on my face and – as the ancient synapses closed in her brain – she covered her mouth with her hand and snapped her head forward to eradicate the carnal image. We finally got back to the office as I pulled swiftly into the darkened garage. When I switched off the engine Ginny raised her head and looked at me sleepily, still languorously pulling on my prick. “You haven’t cum, sweetie,” she whispered. “Maybe we should do something else.” At that she pulled off her blazer and tossed it in back. Her top was, again, sleeveless, and my breath caught as her stunning upper arms shone ivory in the dim light. Then she looked me directly in the eye -- smelling her finger to indicate her wish -- and unzipped first one, then the other of the zippers on the front of her jeans. Freeing her ankles the same way, she quickly doffed the jeans and peeled off what I saw were wine-colored, french-cut panties, with a dark stain on them. They made a sound like adhesive tape being removed as they broke contact with her crotch. Her musky smell filled the truck’s cab. I reached for her, cupping her sopping mound, and pulled her toward me for a kiss. She whispered, “No, you come here,” as she stood on her widespread knees. I slipped off my jacket and tugged down my pants and shorts with ease. Sliding over, with her knees straddling me, we feasted on one another’s mouths, our tongues swirling and stabbing at one another. “Oh, JJ, I’ve never wanted you more than right now,” she gasped. I grabbed the handle on the right of the seat that lowers its back. In a second we were almost prone, with me on the bottom. My hands greedily poured over her bare skin, covering her silken hips, legs and thighs with the gentlest strokes. Then I soundlessly urged her to turn around so her back was to me, with her sitting on her knees as she thrust her beautiful butt toward me. I could see between her legs, up at their juncture, the rear portion of her wet, pink, inner labia, beckoning to me in a small, inverted “V.” I wasted little time in splitting that tasty little organ with my rampant cock, now extremely angry for having been hard since lunch. “Gnnnk,” I grunted as Ginny’s pulsating, hot little slit accommodated me. Then, we began a simple ballet, with long, smooth strokes stopped only by her cervix and my wish to keep my cock head in her moist heat. We lavished one another with easy grinds, matching the somnolent strains of Berlioz’s Love Theme from Romeo and Juliet, which was on the radio. I held her muscular ass in both of my hands, guiding her up, then down, onto my rigid pole, marveling at the simplicity of the movement and the burning pleasure it yielded. Her juice was very thick. As I looked at my staff sinking slowly into her, on pulling out I saw the liquid congeal into very light gray gobs of stuff that looked like custard. My hand passed around my cock, fingering her up to her clit, and I brought it to my mouth. It was tangier than usual. Possibly because of her medication, or her cycle, I thought. Ginny was by this time moaning continuously. She was venting her own brand of sexual jargon. Her muse was stimulating her to please me verbally: "Oohh, JJ, you fuck me so good…I just can’t get enough of you…just fuck me…like that, oh yeah, JJ, you’re so good. Oooohhh, JJ, it’s so fucking good slow like this. I can feel you all the way inside…yeah…there. Oohh, I want you in there too. Will you? Oh, baby, please cum all the way inside me!” It was getting awfully hot. Even though we were in the underground garage, the afternoon was stifling and the windows had begun to steam up. But it didn’t bother us. We didn’t really notice it, since we were on our way to climactic bliss. We gradually increased our tempo, with perspiration beading on our foreheads. Slowly, the wine we’d consumed was releasing its hold on us as Ginny began clawing the dashboard. Grunting in her own unique way, she began to crunch her drooling cunt down onto my rod: “Ooo, gonna’ cum. Gonna’ cum, JJ. Please cum with me. Mmh…mmh…mmh…uh…ughh…uh…oh, Jayyy…Jaaay…oh, God, aaahhg,” Ginny screamed, whipping her hair from side to side. “Aaarghh, shit, oh, fuck, Ginnnny! aaah…aaah!” I bellowed, answering her request with a paralyzing final thrust of my own, as my load surged from my bloated scrotum upward into her receptive, clasping cunt, forcing millions of sperm past her cervix into her womb. When my balls were emptied, I shuddered and moaned, repeatedly, as I clutched my petite lover back to my chest. It took more than a minute for us both to come to our senses as I kissed the back of her neck and nibbled her earlobes, licking softly. Ginny just continued coming down, moaning a sweet litany of senseless mewlings. At that point we both saw her at once: Erica, standing on the raised concrete landing outside the elevator that fed the upper floors. She was watching us with a studied concentration, chin on one palm as her arms rested on the metal railing. It was as if she were observing a couple of microorganisms probe at one another on the glass slide of a microscope. Ginny yelled first: “Oh, JJ, shit!” As I uttered an “Aww, fuck!” Erica smiled knowingly, turned slowly around and -- entering the elevator as the door opened -- disappeared from sight. Ginny began blubbering, “Oh, JJ, that was sooo good, and she ruined it! Why did she just watch us?” Turning and grabbing me for comfort, she buried her face in my shoulder as her little frame was wracked with sobs. “Easy, honey,” I tried, as my mind searched for some reasonable, soothing, answer. “Let me handle Erica. Now, let’s straighten up and walk around to the studio to calm down. Nobody’s there this afternoon.” In the photo studio I drew the curtains on both locked sliding doors, allowing light through only the expansive skylights. In the center of the large room is a large, raised platform – about 8’x8’ – that we use as a stage to photograph home models and other items. On it today was a large futon covered with a light blue cloth used as a backdrop. I urged Ginny to relax on it as I made coffee. Joining her, I rubbed her back as she stretched out, trying to relieve her tension. Murmuring soothing little nothings to her, I reflected back on the scant seven days that I’d known her. What a ride it had been! At the moment I had no idea how I would resolve having been busted by my neighbor. What I did know was that I desired more than mere quickies with Ginny. I wanted to spend more time with her in future assignations. I’ll tell you about those sometime. Finally, my conscience bothered me a little bit, having allowed this dalliance to get so out of hand, but of course one’s conscience is always the thing that hurts when your other parts feel so good.