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-law 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 Italiantrattoria with some outdoor tables. “Wanta’ eatal 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 aCinzano 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 canlearn 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’llstill 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.