Ginger Picks Up the Pace

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"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.