Ginger and Chris Ch. 02

"Every time?" she asked.

I nodded.

She looked down at her drink, trying to hide her smile.

"I'm so glad that my emotional roller coaster provides you amusement." I said lightly, a bit of sarcasm in my voice.

Right about here is where I think the tequila started to talk for her. The tone changed, she got a little aggressive. Not too much, just enough to turn me on further.

The smile became a grin as she began to talk again. "You know...you're not exactly supposed to enjoy this whole cuckolding thing, right? I mean, you've read the Wikipedia article on it, I found it in the computer history a ways back. It was all a bit humiliating, in fact...back in the day."

She looked at me as she talked, grinning.

I nodded. "I know that, Gin." I said, not sure what else to say.

"It makes you jealous...very out of character for you. Before...you'd never get jealous, and I liked it at first, especially after Jerry (her first husband). After a while though...well, it almost felt like you didn't care when guys hit on me. I have to admit...I kind of like making you jealous. Is that bad?"

"It's a little bad, I guess...but then...you're a bad girl." I responded, trying to play along. My cock pressed against my jeans beneath the table.

She shifted the conversation. "What did you have planned for tonight?" she asked as her eyes scanned the crowded bar.

"Tonight? After this? I figured I'd take you home and do unspeakable things to you."

Her eyes came back to me, a devilish light in them to match the smile she wore. "So if I find someone else tonight...that would spoil your night?" She asked it like she knew the answer, which she did.

"Huh uh...not spoil it. But I did just want it to be us tonight, really." I was being sincere.

She nodded. "Uh huh...I know, baby...but then, like we just talked about...this isn't exactly about what you want, is it?"

I shook my head.

"And so, if I want someone else first...does that mean you won't want me anymore tonight?" Again a question she already knew the answer to.

"Of course not." I said.

Her eyes were scanning the bar again. They stopped, and she smiled at someone off to my left. "In fact...you might even want me more...isn't that right?" She asked without looking at me.

"I don't think I could want you any more than I do right now, Gin." I replied.

The waitress popped in to view suddenly. I was hoping to wrap it up. I finished my beer in a long pull. Ginger still had about a quarter of her third margarita in front of her. The waitress asked if we wanted another round.

Ginger covered her glass, but pointed at my bottle. "One more for him, if you could." She smiled brightly at the waitress, locked eyes with her, touched her forearm lightly. I think she was girl-flirting. I think the waitress thought so too. She flushed, nearly knocked over my bottle on her tray as she retreated quickly.

Ginger's tongue touched her front teeth and upper lip, very sexy, as she looked back across the table at me.

"Guess she doesn't like girls." I said.

She shook her head. "I think she likes them just fine...just never been hit on by one. I could maybe help her see the light."

Wow, she was drunk, and it was definitely a tequila drunk.

Her eyes went back to scanning the crowd. I couldn't hold another beer without giving some back, so I stood and muttered "Gotta use the gent's..." She didn't seem to notice me leaving.

I made my way back a few minutes later, around the right side of the bar. The waitress was dropping off my beer. Ginger said something to her, they both laughed, although the waitress still looked nervous as she again retreated, this time not so quickly. I planned to ask Ginger about it, but she saw me coming, waited until I was close to the table, then stood and went down around the left side of the bar with her almost empty drink glass. She blew me an air kiss as she stepped away.

I sat down, pulled on my fresh beer, and turned to see her push her way to the bar right next to the guy she'd been flirting with earlier. He was turned the other way, but she got his attention by bumping against him as she pushed through to the bar. She ordered a new margarita, then turned and started to talk to him.

I saw the guy look past her to our table. She turned over her shoulder, looked at me, then theatrically put her finger over her lips in a "Shhhhhhhh" gesture as she turned back to him. They both laughed. Yea...a little humiliating.

She got her drink and stayed put. She was standing, he was sitting on a bar stool.

After a bit our waitress came by and dropped the check, telling me that my wife had said we were done. I nodded, thanked her, turned back to the bar.

I could see her push close to him, her legs inside his thighs. Now and then she'd touch him, his arm, his shoulder, his thigh, as they talked. She pulled through her drink quickly. I thought I might have to pour her in to bed at this rate. I watched her fish her phone out of her back pocket. Her purse sat across the table from me.

My phone buzzed. "Call a cab..." from Ginger. Good idea, I wouldn't be driving either. But did I need two cabs? I called for one. "10 mins" I sent back.

She stayed for 5 more, finished her drink and set the empty glass on the bar, then walked back over to me, face lit in a smile. She pulled up next to me, whispered in my ear...

"Your call baby...me and you...or me and him first?"

I looked at her. My cock throbbed. I dropped enough on the check to cover it with a nice tip, then took her hand. "Let's get out of here."

As we headed for the door, she badgered me teasingly. "You sure now baby? I mean, I don't have to go and fuck him...I could take him out to his car for a blow job, then we could go on home..."

We stepped out in to the cool night. No cab yet. I spun around, pulled her tight, kissed her. She was driving me crazy. She pulled back. "Oh..or maybe I could do it in your car...would you like that? I'd probably miss some of it..I always do...and then maybe you'd see it on your way to work one day...a little dull drop on the dashboard...and you could think of your slut wife sucking some strange guy's cock in your car..."

Christ she as killing me. A cab pulled in. I pushed her in the back, followed her. She began to climb all over me as I told the guy where to go. It was a short ride, thankfully, or things might have gotten serious in there. I pushed a twenty to the driver and we hurried to our door.

We hadn't had dirty, drunken sex like that in ages. It was some night, and it spawned another idea that would become reality for us after a bit.

As for her and Chris, things just carried on after that weekend. All in all she kept at him for over 3 months. She saw him no fewer than twice a week, sometimes as many as four, over that time. I would learn that he worked rotating shifts at a bottling plant, making for an odd schedule. True to her word, she always told me when she planned to see him, but the notifications were all over the map. She'd swing by his place after work some weeknights when he working swings. Twice she went there at lunch when he was working overnights. She was there at some point every weekend, usually more than once.

She always asked me to come watch. She even told me Chris wanted me to come and watch. I don't know why, but as much as it had turned me on to be there that one time, I just couldn't do it. She was disappointed, but she didn't force it. She found other outlets.

One Saturday evening as I sat watching a late season hockey game, she called. She hadn't been gone long, I thought maybe her car had broken down or something.

Instead all she said was "Don't hang up the phone...you leave it on and listen until I hang up. OK?"

I'd said "OK" back, then proceeded to listen as she had her brains fucked out. It wasn't all fucking, I guess. There had been a lot of wet, smacking sounds that I suppose came from her lips being wrapped around his cock too. It was a long call, ending with her breathlessly telling me that she'd see me in a few minutes.

Another time, a series of picture texts rewarded me at work one early afternoon. I knew she'd gone to his place at lunch, had wound up leaving half my sandwich unfinished as I sat there thinking about what his thick black cock was doing to her. Shortly after 1:30, my phone buzzed with the first picture, just a shot of a bathroom stall, no message. The next appeared to be the same stall door, but from inside. Then a self picture of Ginger, less than arm's length. I assumed she was in the stall, given the tile behind her. The next was another self picture, lower, showing the blouse and skirt she'd worn. Then the fun started. Another, a little lower angle, skirt hiked up over her hips to show her panties. The next zoomed in on her panties, black, with an even blacker spot in the middle as the fabric disappeared between her thighs. My cock throbbed again as I waited for the next. This one was straight down her front. I could see the swell of her breasts, and then in to her panties as she pulled them away from her waist with her free hand. The last two were the same shot, each zoomed in a bit more on her panties. In the next to last I could clearly make out a couple of thick strands of cum stretching from her slit to her panties. They'd broken free in the last, with the focus now on the thick pool of Chris' cum that had leaked from her.

I could barely concentrate the rest of the day. Later at home as she rode my cock, she pushed them in to my mouth and told me to suck on them while she told me about her lunch date.

She did a few other things like that, but the one I revisit most is a short text. "You sure you don't wanna watch, baby?" This was followed sometime later by three pictures that Chris took, at her instruction. The first is of her from the neck up. Her throat is flushed, head lolled back, muscles taught beneath her skin. Her mouth is open, whether in a scream or moan I can't be sure. Her eyes are shut tight. The next is from the same angle but lower. Chris' black hand engulfs her right breast, her pink nipple peaking up between his index and middle finger. Her left breast is bare and misshapen, the picture apparently taken mid thrust. The last is lower still, Ginger's smooth white thighs split off to the right and left out of the frame. Chris's dark cock is about 2/3 in, the rest to the hilt shining with her juices. I stare at that picture, mesmerized by how big it looks inside her, her pink lips stretched to take it in.

She didn't hook up with anyone else that whole time. She was amazingly affectionate toward me while it went on though. I'm pretty sure we had sex in some form or another every day, even if she just took care of me while her monthly friend visited.

My insecurity waned each time she came home to me. Once, lying with her a Sunday morning after she'd been with him, I asked what they talked about. She was coming down from a tongue-induced orgasm and was a little foggy.

"What does who talk about?" she asked through slitted eyes. "Me and Chris?"

I nodded.

She put her head back on the pillow and smiled, closing her eyes. "You really want to know?" she asked without moving.

I said I did.

She made a show of rolling on to her side, propped up on one elbow. "Well...let's see...first I get there and I go "Hey Chris..." and he goes "Hey Ginger...". Then there's probably some rustling noises and some thuds as I pull off my clothes and my shoes hit the floor. There might be some wet smacking sounds, but not always 'cause we don't always kiss first. Pretty soon I start moaning, then eventually I start screaming. I don't know if he talks during it, or even if he makes any noise at all, 'cause I'm not really listening by then."

She looked at me, reached down, stroked my cock as it started to swell again. She moved closer, inches from my face, dropping her voice to a whisper.

"And then..." she said, drawing it out teasingly. "Well, then I get up and pull my clothes back on and go "See you Chris..." and he goes "Yea, Gin..."

I thought she was having fun with me and my face must have said so.

"I'm serious baby. OK, so lately, he has been a little more chatty. Actually gets on my nerves a little...he doesn't have much to say that interests me. But I barely say a word. I'm not there for the conversation. OK?"

In the end that might have been what stopped it. She just quit going over there. One weekend she was there, and we had the usual good time when she came home. She didn't see him during the week though. I thought maybe her period came early, but Tuesday night she put that out of my head. I finally asked on Saturday.

"Anything going on tonight?"

"Nope...got something in mind?" she replied.

I looked at her for a second. "No Chris? Something up?"

She smiled, stepped close to me. "I hadn't planned on it, but I can go over if you want. He'll be around."

It wasn't what I wanted, but I was surprised that it also wasn't what she wanted. We talked about it a little, but to her it wasn't a big deal. She asked if I remembered her mentioning he was getting chatty, which I did, and said it was getting worse and that she could barely stand to hear him talk, some of the stuff he said. She said she guessed it was like that line in this song I like, Shimmer, by Fuel. "... I have found, all that shimmers in this world is sure to fade...away...again."

And that was that. It was late June by then, nice weather was back. We talked about going out and getting her other guys, but spent the next few weeks wearing each other out on our own. Her time with Chris strengthened us though, and it paid off pretty soon after.

She was out getting some milk in a nearby convenience store one Saturday morning. When she came back, she told me she ran in to the local guy from the fall, the time I'd had to get them a hotel room because he wasn't from out of town. Turns out he was REAL local, he lived in a townhouse in another section of our development. She said it was awkward, she'd lied to him that night and said she was from out of town. She also had her wedding ring on that morning. Even though she'd never told him she was single, she hadn't been wearing it that night.

The guy had recognized her and tapped her on the shoulder. Being how she is, she was embarrassed and felt awkward but in the end didn't much care what he thought. He asked if she'd moved here, it had been several months after all. He also eyed her wedding ring. So she told him the truth, that she lived here, was married, and what had happened that the night was something her and her husband liked to do now and then. He went quiet. She shrugged, told him it was nice seeing him again, and turned to leave.

Then he said "Hey...well...if you guys are ever...you know...looking for someone again..."

His name is Mark. She got his number. I think, before Chris, I would have had a problem with it. As it was, she eyed me warily as she told me she took his number.

I said "And you didn't go back to his place now because?" to break up the tension. I still felt the little pang of jealousy, but the fact that it was someone she'd been with before didn't bother me in the least.

"Well...you know...I already had the milk." she replied with a smile. "But I can see if he's free tonight....if you want..."

Later that day I went out for a run. She'd called and texted him with no reply, so we figured he'd thought more about it and run the other way, which was cool. I came back from my run to find her coming down the steps in a short denim mini-skirt and cute camisole top however. Her legs and feet were bare, but she had a pair of strappy, open-toed espadrilles in her hand.

"Mark called back after all." she said. "I'm supposed to meet him down the corner for a drink. Give me a ride, sailor?"

She was freshly showered, hair damp. She looked and smelled great. As we pulled up to the bar, she hiked up her skirt to show me she wasn't wearing any panties. Damn tease.

"Easy access, you know..." she said as she leaned over to give me a peck. "I'll call when I'm on my way, or if I need a ride, k?" and then she was gone. I watched her ass until she disappeared in to the bar.

At home I cleaned myself up and passed the time. She texted me a little after 7. It said "Come and get me..." I grabbed my keys and headed for the door. I assumed the bar, which was weird, so planned to text her and ask from the car to be sure. Instead I saw her coming down the sidewalk as I stepped on to our walkway. Her shoes dangled from her fingers by the straps, probably because she knows it drives me crazy seeing her like that. She walked barefoot down our street. I met her at the bottom of our driveway. She kissed me softly.

"I thought you needed a ride." I said.

"Mmmm...just had one...but thanks." she answered with a smile before continuing up the walk toward our door.

I caught up to her as she continued. "It's such a nice evening, and he is REALLY close, so I thought I'd walk."

She'd timed the message so I'd see her walking home like that. Nice touch.

We stepped inside. She let the door fall closed behind her, dropped her shoes. "Unfortunately...my decisions tonight have resulted in some unintended consequences. First no panties...then walking home. Maybe you can help?" she said in a teasing tone.

Then she twisted her right foot outward, so that the side and back of her right leg came in to view. From beneath her skirt, two lines of fluid made their way down from inside her thigh around to the back of her leg. They came together just above the back of her knee. The stream inched slowly downward, now at the top of her calf. Good fucking lord, his cum was running out of her and down her leg.

"Oh damn...damn baby..." was all I could manage as I dropped to my knees.

She turned full around, pressed her palms on the front door and pushed her ass toward me.

"Make sure you get it all, baby..." she instructed.

I don't know if that Fuel song is the best representation of our lives, but things have definitely changed and settled since her time with Chris. She's been cuckolding me for a shade over 2 1/2 years now. The bar hook-ups with strangers have been mostly replaced with repeats. She keeps a list of guys...bulls I guess, most of whom she's met online through an adult interracial site. Since I like baseball so much, she calls them her "bullpen". She still calls me her closer, which is goofy but sweet. Chris and Mark are the only local guys on the list. All the others live elsewhere but travel for business. They let Ginger know when they'll be in town, and she hooks up with them when they're here.

All of the guys are black except for Mark. It's not so much a race thing, although seeing her with a black cock is still a huge turn on for me. It's not a size thing either, or at least she says it's not. OK, sure, most of them are bigger than me, but not all of them. The guys just seem to be cooler with it, when all is said and done, and that tends to be the deciding factor on whether she's going to be with someone.

A few things from that spring and summer, besides Chris and Mark, made their way in to our list of turn-ons. When we came home drunk that night, leaving that guy behind, I said something along the line that maybe she should have invited him back with us. That got her going on whether I'd want to see someone fuck her in our bed. I hadn't really thought of it, but it was a huge turn on as she talked about it that night.

Later that summer I read a thriller where a house burglar wound up in a hidden room behind one-way glass when people unexpectedly came home. The wife was young, husband very old, and so they had this room where he would sit and watch while she was with other men.

I had put the book down and dug out the floor plan that we had from when our house was built. Sure enough, our guest room closet backed up to the wall across from our bed. Ginger thought I was a little nuts when I came back in to the bedroom with a long screwdriver, stuck it through the wall, then ran around to the guest room. She caught on quick when I showed her from the closet though.