Ginger and Chris Ch. 02

She pushed the door open, stood there for a moment. A few of the candles still guttered weakly, and I realized I'd been lucky that nothing had happened when I drifted off to sleep. I could see her hair mussed in the dim light they threw, and felt my cock stir. Wordlessly, she walked around the room, a short sharp exhale extinguishing the remaining light. I watched her, my cock growing as she did. The room collapsed in to darkness. I didn't see her, but heard soft whisps as she walked toward the bed. I realized she'd been stripping off the t-shirt and stretch pants as she approached when I caught her nude form in the soft light coming through a window.

Without a word, she placed one knee and hand on the bed next to me, then mounted my face. I wanted to object. I wanted to talk. I really did. Instead, I opened my mouth and began to drink greedily at the results of my slut-wife's most recent encounter.

She pushed my sweats and shorts down as she rode my face selfishly, getting herself off as I lapped at the mixture of her lover's cum and her juices. I could make out my name as she softly whispered to signal first one orgasm, then another. Satiated, she lifted herself from me, turned herself around, and settled on to my pulsating cock. She felt loose, sloppy, a stark contrast to Sarah. It turned me on more. She leaned down, kissed me hard as she rode me. I wanted to last, wanted to please her, but I came unexpectedly. She continued to pump her hips on me as I deflated inside her. No sighs of frustration, just an earnest effort to drain me completely. When there was nothing left she dismounted, lay down next to me, pressing against me.

I realized my sweats and boxers were still around my ankles, and my t-shirt was still on. I saw a wet spot on it, a drop must have spilled from her on to it. I rose, kicked out of the pants and pulled off my shirt. I stroked her back, settled next to her.

"Hey..." I started.

"So tired baby...I'm going to sleep....love you...", and she turned her head away.

I sighed. I guess talking would wait. I didn't think I'd sleep, but I was wrong again. When I woke, the sun was up fully. I could hear sounds from the kitchen through our closed door. Ginger still slept on her stomach beside me.

I got up, used the bathroom. On the way back I saw the black stretch pants she'd worn on the floor. They were inside out, the crotch stained a filmy white. I looked down at them, saw my cock rise in to view. Ginger stirred, and I looked at her, but her eyes were closed. My cock throbbed.

Before I could think better of it, I got on to the bed, pulled the covers off her, and pushed myself up between her legs. I pushed my cock inside her from behind. I didn't expect her to be wet, but she was. I started to fuck her angrily. She pushed her legs apart, lifted her hips, began to moan in to the mattress. I reached beneath her, wet two fingers in her juices as I slid out of her, then began making tight circles over her clit. I could hear her moaning in to the mattress as she built toward an orgasm, smiled to myself as I sent her crashing in to it before exploding in to my own. The whole thing lasted less than 5 minutes.

I pulled away from her, collapsed beside her, breathing hard. She turned her head toward me.

"Damn...what was that all about?" She had a small grin on her lips.

I wasn't sure. I guess I was trying to prove something, prove that I could fuck her as well as Chris could. I wasn't sure I'd succeeded.

I supposed now was as good a time as any, and opened my mouth to talk. Just then a sharp rap sounded on the door. We both jumped, then heard Sarah's voice.

"If you two can pull yourselves off each other, I made some breakfast." she said, then retreated down the steps.

Ginger smiled again, looked at me. "Make sure you thank her when we get down there...she just saved you from cleaning up the mess you made down there..." looking down her body before swinging herself out of bed.

I stayed put. She was acting like nothing was wrong. Was I reading in to things too much?

"C'mon..." she said as she pulled on sweats and another t-shirt. "She makes awesome breakfast."

I caught up to Ginger at the bottom of the stairs as she picked up the strewn about clothing and placed them on the couch. We heard Sarah talking as we approached the kitchen. As we entered, she turned her back, cell phone at her ear. She was fighting with her husband.

"I told you already, I'm at Ginger's. Yes, I've been here all night, the fuck do you think I was?"

Ginger walked to her, placed a hand on her back. Sarah looked exasperated as she turned around. We could hear his voice, although not what he was saying to her. Ginger motioned for the phone. Sarah shook her head, but Ginger reached for it anyway.

Sarah said "Hold on...HOLD ON...Ginger wants to talk to you." I heard him say he didn't want to talk to Ginger as the phone changed hands. Ginger blew it off.

"Jeff, it's Ginger." She paused, I heard him say something to her. Her face reddened slightly. "Excuse me," her voice rising, "but you do NOT need to take that tone with me."

Silence for a bit, then his voice faintly.

"It's fine, I understand you being upset." Ginger continued. "I wanted to tell you I was sorry. She wanted to come home last night, but we'd both had too much to drink, and Thomas got in late from cards." Her voice took on a placating tone, she was good at this.

She listened a moment.

"Yes, you're right...of course we should have called. We were just having a bit of fun, and then, you know how it goes, the time goes by and suddenly its later than you think. She didn't want to wake you."

She listened again. Her eyes squinted.

"Oh...you got home late and were probably awake? Well, where you'd go, anyway?"

Silence. She let it linger a minute, then said "Well, that's probably none of my business anyway. Like I said, I'm sorry, Jeff. Don't blame Sarah, it was my fault she didn't come home, k? You want to talk to her again?"

She didn't wait for an answer, just handed the phone back to Sarah. Sarah put it to her ear, said "Hello?" once, then put it down. Apparently he'd hung up.

"Thank you, but you shouldn't have done that." she said.

"Fuck him." Ginger said sharply. "What he's putting you through, I ought to go over and kick his ass. Now then, what's for breakfast?"

We sat down together. Ginger and I ate, Sarah pushed food around her plate. She looked at us both.

"Hey...did I hear someone come in the house late? Like after 2?" she asked.

I looked at Ginger, Ginger looked down at her plate. Hmmm.

"Oh...Ginger...you didn't go and see that guy after all, did you?" Sarah asked.

Hmmmmmm.

Ginger looked at her, face a little flushed. "Well now, I'm not sure that's any of your business, Ms. Sarah."

"Ms. Sarah", wow. She used that a lot. Most of the time affectionately, playfully. Not this time.

Sarah, much like Ginger, isn't one to back down from a fight, however. She stared back at Ginger for a few beats, then shifted her eyes to me.

"Well, shit Tommy...you should have come on down, we could have gone another round."

Holy crap, I couldn't believe she'd said that. My mind flashed briefly to the creepy ogling that I'd done. Ginger dropped her fork however, and the loud clang off the plate, then floor, brought me out of it. This was going to get ugly fast if I didn't so something.

Ginger's mouth opened, but before she could speak I said, "Well I did...are you kidding? You don't remember? You slept through the whole thing? Damn this Irish curse!"

Silence hung in the air for a moment, and then Ginger laughed. I laughed, probably a little to hard. Sarah's face softened and she joined in. It was awkward, a little forced, but it broke the momentum of the fight. After a minute we stopped. I got Ginger a new fork, but she'd clearly lost her appetite. I hadn't, and Ginger had been right, the woman makes a good breakfast. I sat back down and started eating again. They both looked at me, shared a glance at each other and shook their heads.

"What?" I said.

Sarah stood, said "Now I really do have to go."

Ginger stood too, they headed out of the kitchen. "I"ll get you a towel and washcloth." A minute later I heard water in the pipes, then Ginger came back down. A good time to talk, I thought. Instead she poked her head in to the kitchen.

"Hey...I'm gonna go home with her. I don't want Jeff doing anything crazy. I'll get her changed and then we're gonna go shopping, get her mind off that asshole."

"That bad?" I asked.

"He's fucking some girl from work. He was out fucking her last night." She said this with no sense of irony at all. "It's so damn obvious it's sad, and he thinks she doesn't know. Then he has the nerve to give her shit for staying out. Asshole."

She was pissed. I decided I could put off our conversation again. Master procrastinator, that's me. I had 100 questions about Sarah, but figured that could wait too. Ginger headed up and took a shower.

They both came down, Sarah in borrowed sweats, Ginger looking great in a light, button down knit sweater, tight across her chest, tight dark jeans, and high-heeled black boots that came up just below her knees.

She bounced over to me, in a better mood obviously, gave me a kiss goodbye as Sarah waved over her shoulder and headed out the door.

Something in my manner must have tipped my hand as Ginger kissed me. She paused, looked at me.

"Everything OK?" she asked.

I thought about saying what was on my mind, but it wasn't the time. "Yea, of course." I said.

She eyed me. "Thomas?"

I sighed. "Look, last night...that was a lot...just feeling a little weird. I'm fine though, go have fun and I'll see you later, k?"

She stayed for another minute, looking at me. I held my ground.

She kissed me again, eyes open, then turned. Over her shoulder she said "OK...love you baby." And she was gone. I heard both cars drive away, didn't think much of it at the time, figuring she didn't want to make Sarah drive her home later.

The house was a bit of a wreck, what with remnants of their wine drinking last night, breakfast, Ginger's clothes, beds unmade. I knew Ginger didn't expect me to clean up, bit I did anyway. Less distractions for when she came home, and I could finally talk to her.

I killed the day bit by bit, taking a nap after cleaning up, then going for a run before showering. I went to the range, hit some golf balls, stopped by a men's store on the way home to pick up a few shirts and ties for work. I'd just gotten home after 4 and started thinking about making a nice dinner for Ginger, something to smooth the road before the talk I wanted to have, when her text came in.

"Hey babes...Sarah and I just finished a late lunch / early dinner. I'm gonna drop her off, then swing over to Chris'. Grab yourself some dinner if you're hungry...but save room, I'm bringing dessert. MWAH!"

I dropped on to the couch, staring slack-jawed at my phone. I began to tap out a reply, but nothing was coming out right. I struggled over it for about 10 minutes, ultimately giving up and not sending a reply at all. Maybe that would be message enough.

The tone of her message, again, told me this was business as usual to her. I wondered if I was reading too much in to it. The conspiracy theorist inside wouldn't let up, however.

"You've been set up, see...you're the fall guy here...wake up and smell the coffee." he said, as if delivering a line in a '20's gangster movie. What can I say? That's the kind of shit that goes on in my head.

I grabbed a cold beer from the fridge, plopped back on the couch, and tried to watch some TV. I realized I was hungry after a bit, ordered a pizza for delivery, and just sat there drinking. I paced myself, I didn't want to be completely blotto when she came home. I wanted to maintain the sense of betrayal though, keep it simmering so that I wouldn't just roll over and succumb to sex when she came in all sloppy and disheveled. And of course, that thought brought others. This is what I had to fight. She would come home sloppy. Very sloppy. And damn, did I love her sloppy.

About 1/2 way through a 6pm Sports Center, I got up to grab another beer. I was a little unsteady, had a good buzz going. In the kitchen, fridge and freezer open as I grabbed an ice cold one from the freezer and replaced it with one from the fridge, I heard heels clicking on the tile behind me. I hadn't heard her come in the door. She was earlier than I expected.

I turned, swinging the doors shut, icy beer in hand. She was about 5 steps away. Her hair was a tossed-about mess. She'd put on eye makeup this morning, and it was smudged and smeared a bit. Not much, just enough to be noticeable. The rest of her makeup had been worn off. I flashed back to her face pressed against the white hotel sheets as Chris had fucked her from behind, guessing that something similar might be responsible for taking off today's application. My cock stirred.

Her sweater was held shut by two buttons in the middle. The top and bottom buttons were open. Her bra was gone, I was sure she'd worn one earlier. Her stomach and cleavage showed. Her nipples were clear through the tight knit.

Her jeans and boots appeared intact, so there was that, at least.

She smiled, stepping toward me slowly, watching me take her in.

"Be strong...be strong..." said the voice inside.

Sucker.

I opened my mouth, intending to tell her we needed to talk. She beat me to the punch.

"The answer is "Yes", baby." she whispered. Then she kissed me. She put her weight against me, pressed me back against the fridge. I kissed her back, a deep, sexy tongue kiss.

She pulled back. I just looked at her.

"The question I just answered was "Did you suck his cock?" And since I know how much you like to kiss on me when I do that, I thought you'd like a kiss." she said plainly.

I was aware of my mouth hanging open, snapped it shut as she leaned in to my personal space. With my next breath, I breathed her in. I could smell him on her.

She knew what her scent after her adventures did to me. She leaned closer still, inches separating our faces, eyes locked on mine.

"Did you know that I read cuckold stories on Lit, Thomas?" she asked in a husky whisper.

It was completely out of context and caught me flat-footed.

"I, uhh...I guess I did know...sure." I said.

Where the hell had that come from? I could smell a bit of alcohol on her breath, tequila maybe? But she didn't seem drunk. Her smile told me she knew what she was doing.

Did I say smile? No...she grinned. "OK. You know I read those stories. Did you know that I read a few every night while we were fighting?" she asked.

I shook my head.

"Mmmm. It was lonely up in that bed." She put a pout on her face. "I sat there reading them on the iPad and touch myself, reading about the dirty things these dirty boys do for their dirty girls, wondering if you'd do them for me."

My mouth was suddenly dry. I opened it to talk, heard a click in my throat. "Ginger...I wanted to talk to you."

"We are talking, baby." Her hand touched my stomach, slid down, moved over my crotch. My cock was rigid and throbbed beneath my jeans.

Let the record show that I, Thomas, did in fact make an earnest attempt to address my concerns with Ginger prior to falling completely under her freshly-fucked spell.

It was all down hill from there.

She continued. "So...in one story I particularly liked, this woman would go out and fuck her lovers, then bring home creampies for her husband. Sound familiar?"

I could only nod. I felt her hand leave my jeans, trail up my forearm, down over my hand, around the neck of my beer. I realized my hand hurt from holding the cold glass so long. I hadn't noticed.

Ginger took the beer from me, stepped back, picked our magnetic church key off the fridge behind me, and popped it open. Still close, still eying me, she took a long pull from it, smacked her lips as she swallowed. She was killing me. Looking back, they way she took that beer from me and drank on it rates as one of the sexiest things she's ever done to me, and I'm still not quite sure why.

"Except the thing was, this woman, she'd make her husband lick her panties before he could have her." she went on.

I was parched. Her lips were wet from the beer, and I could smell it fresh on her breath. She took another pull, saw me look longingly at the bottle, and handed it to me. I took a long pull myself, handed it back. She put her index finger on my lips, wiped it across, picking up a little wetness, then sucked it in to her mouth. Really, really killing me here.

"You like my panties, don't you, Thomas?"

"Uhhh...I didn't see which ones you put on today, Gin." I answered lamely. My head was spinning.

She laughed silently, shook her head. "Let me put it another way. Do I have any panties you don't like?"

Good point. I shook my head.

"Thought so. And do you remember, when we were fooling around, that time you came to Atlanta and tied me to the bed?"

Talk about a blast from the past. I had still been married, she was mid-post-divorce crazy phase. I brought some fake-fur lined wrist and ankle cuffs with me, a blindfold, and a CD I made. I picked up candles in an airport shop. She came to meet me in the room. The candles were lit when she arrived and I started the CD before letting her in. I didn't say a word to her, just stripped her to her panties and bra, coaxed her in to lying down, blindfolded her, and tied her to the bed. The CD had 56 minutes of music on it, all songs I found hauntingly sexy. I spent about 25 of those minutes teasing her relentlessly with my hands and lips, then another 15 licking her through her panties. Once the next-to-last song started, something more up-tempo, I pushed her panties aside and pushed myself into her, finishing about the time the last song wrapped up.

I could only nod. Yea. I remembered.

"Mmmm..." she purred. "You know how hot that made me, you licking me through my panties like you did?

"Pretty hot, if I remember right." I answered.

She nodded. "So...on my way home just now, I could feel Chris leaking out of me, you know? He filled me up pretty good, baby."

She paused, looking at me. I swallowed, my throat clicked dryly again.

"And I got to thinking about that story...that woman and her cuckold husband. And about that night in Atlanta. And about how much you seem to like my panties..."

She leaned in close, I thought to kiss me, and I moved my lips toward her. Instead she just got close, millimeters away, teasing me, eyes open and on me the whole time. I breathed her in. Then she stepped back a few paces, struck a little bit of a pose.

"Are you catching my drift, baby?" she asked.

I was. I moved to her, began to push her back toward the table, intending to set her on it and get to work. She pushed against me.

"Huh uh...right here, I'll stand. You better get my boots off first..."

Her hands were on my shoulders. She wanted me on my knees before her. I obliged.

As I unzipped one boot, then the other, she began to tell me how Chris had fucked her just a little while before. She steadied herself, hands on my shoulders, as I pulled off each boot.

"You want to leave my socks on?" she asked.

"Mmmm." I answered. She had on mid-calf dark cotton socks. I don't know why, but I like a girl wearing nothing but socks now and then. Ginger knew it.

"You can...I know you like that."

I set to work on her jeans. They were tight against her skin.

"Careful not to pull my panties off with them." she directed as I began working them over her hips. It was hard not to pull them down together, but I managed it by going slowly. Again she balanced herself on me as I worked them over her feet.

She stood above me, sweater, panties and socks. I stroked her soft thighs longingly, letting my hands slide up and over her hips, grasping the waist band of her panties as I moved closer to her.