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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Archive name: ginger.txt (MF, rom)
Authors name: John Jameson (Jameson1780@altavista.com)
Story title : Ginger
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This story Copyright (c) December 1999, John Jameson,
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Ginger (MF Rom)
By John Jameson (Jameson1780@altavista.com)
Yes, I know--Ginger sounds like a stripper or some
fantasy character. In some ways she was a fantasy
character, except that she was a living, breathing
woman as well. If it makes you feel better, change her
name to Mary or Phyllis in your mind, but I'll always
remember her as Ginger.
I was in the Navy at the time, and we'd recently
returned to our homeport of San Diego after an extended
deployment to WESTPAC. (To those of you lucky enough
never to have been there, WESTPAC is Navy-speak for
Western Pacific. In 1972, that meant one thing: a tour
of duty off the coast of Vietnam). Typical of my
brilliant timing, I'd managed to join the Tonkin Gulf
Yacht Club just as Dick Nixon decided it would be a
good idea to increase the naval pressure on the North
Vietnamese. The seven and a half months of our
deployment had been spent primarily on the gun line
or on carrier escort and plane guard missions.
During the previous deployment, the U.S.S. Hummer
(not her real name) had fired 500 rounds from the
destroyer's five-inch main guns over the course of
six weeks on the gun line and enjoyed liberty call
in over a dozen ports in Polynesia, the Far East,
Australia, and New Zealand. This time, we'd spent
six months in the Gulf and the South China Sea, fired
off fifteen thousand rounds of five-inch, and snagged
six visits to Subic Bay in the Philippines and five
glorious days of R&R in Hong Kong.
On our return stateside, I had a week-long visit with
my family. I didn't really expect my fiancee to meet
the ship, since she was a college junior at the time
and we returned in September, shortly after the fall
semester began. I did think it showed class that she
waited until the ship was back in port and she'd got
a first hand report from my sisters on my health and
fitness before she wrote to tell me she'd be ever so
much happier with someone else. She was also sure I'd
be happy to know the proceeds from selling the
engagement ring I'd given her before setting off for
Southeast Asia had funded the trip she and her new
love had taken, ostensibly to relieve the stress
before the start of classes.
Damn, that sounds kind of bitter, doesn't it? You'd
think I'd be happy that the last of my college fund
had gone into buying a diamond ring, which had given
so much pleasure to my beloved, wouldn't you? I guess
I was just grumpy at the time--everyone knows how
unreasonable some Vietnam vets were on their return
to the World. I'm sure my fiancee needed to get away
for a while to rest up from all the stress and tension
of summer vacation and working those backbreaking
twenty-hour weeks at the mall.
San Diego is a beautiful city, or at least it was
then--I'm sure it's even nicer now. Okay, so there
were still places where you'd see signs that read
"Sailors and Dogs Keep Off the Grass." The climate
is incredible, and the scenery is breathtaking in its
beauty and majesty. About the only civilian women who
would talk to sailors, however, were the hostesses at
the USO and the professional ladies on Broadway in the
massage parlors and strip joints. But show your
military ID at the gate, and you got a discount on
admission to the San Diego Zoo.
Since I'd never been much into hookers, I spent a lot
of time playing pool with the junior hostesses at the
USO and attending parties at the homes of shipmates,
many of whom were married. Gradually, a core group of
us formed a regular social circle that got together
for parties, night clubbing, movies, and trips to the
park for softball and touch football. One of the few
unattached women in the group was Ginger.
She was actually a former neighbor of one of my best
friends and she had a brother who was also stationed
in San Diego. Ginger had moved out there from their
small Nebraska hometown to attend San Diego State
University (SDSU), and since she and Rich had been
such good friends back home, she became a part of our
group. Ginger was always there, whether it was for a
party at someone's apartment or a highly competitive
game of touch football. She was full of fun and
mischief, always ready to join in whatever mad plans
we might make, but tragically, she limited her sex
life to her fellow students at SDSU.
A tragedy indeed. Ginger stood about five-eight, with
honey blond hair, which flowed in unruly waves over
her shoulders, enormous cornflower-blue eyes, a
dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and
a wide, full pair of lips, which begged to be kissed.
She had marvelous breasts, without a trace of sag,
despite her distaste for wearing brassieres. Ginger
had a nearly flat stomach, neither rippled with muscle
nor rounded. Her waist was almost slender enough for
my hands to enclose fully, and her hips and ass were
slim and firm and would have looked gorgeous in one
of today's thong bikinis--they were pretty damn fine
in the two piece suits of the time, for that matter.
Her long, lean legs, with the subtle play of muscle
under tawny skin, were usually accentuated by short
skirts and cutoff shorts. When she did wear jeans,
the fashion of the day assured that they were tight
enough that there was no doubt about the shape of the
woman beneath them.
In many ways, Ginger was typical of small-town girls
of the time. She knew what sex is and how babies are
made, but beyond that, she was naive. She didn't have
twenty or thirty years of feminist philosophy to tell
her that she had a right to expect certain things of
a lover. Suddenly immersed in the sexual free-for-all
of campus life in the early Seventies, Ginger was a
living contrast between wide-eed naivete and sexual
liberation.
While more than once I found Ginger to be the subject
of my fantasies, I was no more likely to hit on her
than I was the married women in our circle. She was a
friend, and female friends were rare enough at the
time that I wasn't about to endanger the friendship
just because I hadn't been laid in nearly a year.
Besides, she showed no sign of being interested in me
other than as another surrogate brother; although, I
doubt she told her brother about her dates in quite
the graphic detail she sometimes shared with the rest
of us. Many nights, I'd gone back to the ship or
bedded down on someone's couch with the image of
Ginger's sexual escapades racing through my sleepless
brain.
Shortly before I was to go home on leave for Christmas,
there was a big party at the apartment of Wayne and
Lanie Biggs. They lived in a Navy-dominated complex in
Chula Vista, so the party flowed into a dozen others
scattered around the complex, with people wandering
from apartment to apartment drinking, snacking, and
listening to stereo systems cranked up to the point
that the windows rattled. I was catching my breath in
the little free space on the sofa, drinking a cold
beer, when Ginger popped out of the mass of bodies
occupying the center of the room. Her hair was a bit
disheveled, and she had a slight sheen of perspiration
on her smooth, tanned skin; her cheeks were a bit
flushed from dancing and laughing. Spotting me, she
must have realized my lap was about the only available
seating space left in the apartment, and she dropped
unceremoniously onto me and made a grab for my beer.
She laughed when I swatted her playfully on her denim-
encased ass and complained that at least she could
have asked before draining half my drink. She whispered
something unintelligible into my ear.
"What was that?" I shouted above the pounding of the
music.
"I said let's find someplace less crowded, and I'll
even fetch you a fresh drink myself to make up for
this one," she replied, leaning close enough to my
ear that I could make out what she said above the
noise.
She stood and took my hand, and we weaved through the
crowd to the front door. We wandered to a couple of
other apartments with parties in progress, but the
crowds were incredible. We did manage to snag a couple
of beers at one place where they'd left the cooler
outside on the balcony that ran the length of the
second floor, but we couldn't find a place to sit.
"Come on," Ginger laughed. "Let's go down by the pool.
It's closed for the night, but at least we can sit
down and hear ourselves think."
Hand in hand, we strolled down behind the buildings
to the pool area, but even though it closed at ten
and it was now nearly midnight, it wasn't exactly
deserted. We'd just hopped over the low fence and were
heading for the lounge chairs when Ginger stopped so
suddenly I almost ran into her. She raised her finger
to her lips and then pointed to the pool, and I saw
what had stopped her. There was a couple sitting on
the steps in the shallow end. Or rather, the woman
was sitting at the top of the steps, facing away from
us. Although the man was facing in our direction, I
don't think he saw us as his face was buried between
his companion's legs, and they both seemed to be too
engrossed to pay any attention to us.
Stifling the impulse to laugh, we hurriedly slipped
back over the fence and left them to their pleasures.
Ginger's hand was once again in mine, and we walked
away quickly until we could stand it no longer. We
burst out laughing at what we'd nearly interrupted.
"I didn't have the heart to intrude on that," Ginger
said through her laughter, "although I don't know if
they'd have noticed. She sure seemed to be fully
occupied, but maybe he'd have welcomed an excuse to
stop going down on her."
"Then again," I countered, "he seemed to be as much
into it as she was. God knows, I'd be pissed if
someone barged in while I was in the middle of eating
pussy."
Ginger looked at me oddly. "Oh, come on, I know guys
only go down on women so they can get blow jobs or if
the woman isn't wet enough. You don't have to pretend
they enjoy it."
It was my turn to stare at her. I realized that
although I'd heard her describe giving head often
enough when she talked about sex, she'd never once
mentioned having an orgasm while being eaten. Could
it be this walking wet dream hadn't yet encountered
a guy who enjoyed going down on women? The thought
brought me to a full stop in the shadows behind the
apartment complex.
"Ginger, can I ask you a personal question?"
When she nodded her permission, I took a deep breath,
and the scent of her jasmine perfume reached me on
the still, warm air.
"Haven't you ever gotten off by someone going down
on you?"
"Not really," she replied candidly. "I mean, I've
been close a few times, but then it was my turn to
give them head, or they realized I was wet enough to
fuck or whatever, so they stopped." She looked down
at the ground.
"I mean, it's not like I don't come--I usually manage
to come before we're done fucking, and if I don't, I
get off on my fingers afterward. Everyone knows guys
usually come before girls do."
"Shit!" I exclaimed without really thinking. "I can't
believe that--if I were eating your pussy, you'd have
to drag me away."
"But if I came," she argued, "how would you get off?"
She pondered that thought and went on, "I guess you'd
want a blow job, or you wouldn't have eaten me anyway,
right?"
"No, no, no!" I countered. "I mean, yes, I wouldn't
turn down a blow job, but I'd get off even more if we
fucked, hopefully after you'd had a whole string of
orgasms."
Though her disbelief echoed plainly on her face, I
could see through the white tank top she was wearing
that her nipples were erect, and she was breathing
faster than she had been. Frankly, our conversation,
in combination with the image from the pool, had given
me a throbbing erection, which was straining against
my tight jeans. I just hoped Ginger didn't notice it;
I didn't think she would in the shadows, and I sure
didn't want her leaving at this point.
"I've read about women having multiple orgasms," she
told me hesitantly, "but I always assumed they were
either exaggerating or that they were somehow freaks."
"The way I see it," I explained, "sex is about getting
your partner off and trusting him or her to make sure
you do, too." Ginger inched closer to me. I could feel
the hardness of her nipples against my chest, and the
unmistakable scent of an aroused woman caressed my
nose. "The whole idea of making love should be to give
pleasure to someone," I insisted. "I know I get off
so much more when I know I've made a woman come,
preferably over and over, before I can't hold back any
more and come myself."
"Oh my God," she whispered, her lips only inches from
mine now, "you're serious, aren't you?"
I felt her hand slip between us, and then her fingers
brushed lightly as feathers over the front of my jeans.
I gasped--if I hadn't known better, I'd have sworn my
jeans and briefs had dissolved away and her fingers
had brushed against my bare cock. I felt the heat of
her skin and the incredible softness of her caress,
and then our lips met.
She tasted faintly of hot dogs and beer, and I'm sure
I did too. It didn't matter; we kissed with tender
delicacy for what seemed ages before the tip of her
tongue tickled my lips and my mouth opened to her
caresses. I returned her kiss and caresses hungrily
as our hands began to wander over one another's bodies.
I'd never felt my skin so stimulated with all my
clothes on, and judging by her little moans and gasps,
she was getting as turned on as I was. Feeling brave,
I finally touched her pussy through her jeans, trying
to keep my touch as light as hers had been on my cock.
I could feel how her juices were already seeping
through the denim.
"My apartment is less than five minutes away," she
whispered, her teeth gently tugging at my earlobe.
"I know it is."
"Then why aren't we there fucking each other's brains
out yet?"
We took my car because it was parked closer than hers.
I'd barely driven out of the parking lot before she
unbuttoned my jeans and dragged my zipper down. I tried
to keep my attention on the road as she managed to fish
my throbbing cock out of my briefs and began to stroke
it gently with her hand.
"Baby, you know how long it's been for me," I groaned.
"If you do that, I'm liable to come all over your
hand."
"No you won't," she giggled.
"Why not?"
"Because of this," she whispered, and arched her body
over the center console of my '67 Mustang to slide
those warm, full lips down the length of my cock.
Her tongue felt like a live creature as it swirled
around my superheated flesh while her head bobbed up
and down energetically. It was literally only seconds
before I could feel the semen boiling up from my balls,
and I tried to tell her, but she just sucked harder
and faster. I stiffened and felt the warm blasts of
cum shooting into her waiting mouth as she gulped and
slurped hungrily until, at last, I was drained. It was
Ginger's turn to be surprised when, after pulling into
her driveway a couple of minutes later, I pulled her
close and kissed her deeply, the salty taste of my cum
still faintly in her mouth.
"Why did you do that?"
"To thank you for an incredible blow job," I told her.
She looked at me and raised an eyebrow, completely
unconvinced of my motive.
"If it's okay for you to swallow my cum, why shouldn't
it be okay for me to kiss you after you've done so?" I
asked.
"I've never met a guy who would kiss me after he came
until I'd at least gargled--until now."
She smiled and slid out the passenger door. Leaning
back in, she looked at me and giggled, "Enough
talking--let's get inside, so you can put your money
where your mouth is, if that's the phrase I'm looking
for." Ginger laughed again and ran for her front door.
I laughed back and raced her to the door, catching her
as she was unlocking it, and tumbled in behind her.
"Are you serious about trying to make me come several
times?"
"Baby, I'm serious about trying to make you come until
you beg me to stop. It's time someone put your pleasure
ahead of theirs and let you feel what sex should be. I
may not be the greatest stud of the western world, but
I care about you and want you to know how good it can
be to the best of my ability."
Ginger took my hand and led me toward her bedroom,
though we seemed to be stopping about every two steps
for a long, hot, wet kiss and a lot of caresses over
and under our clothing. Finally we were there, with
the big bed beckoning us to begin our journey to
paradise. I playfully pushed her back onto the bed and
pulled off her shoes and then grabbed the waistband of
the jeans she'd already unbuttoned and unzipped. They
were so tight she had to wiggle her ass and legs as I
pulled to get them off, but it didn't take long. I saw
that, rather than the tank top I'd thought she was
wearing, she had on a white sleeveless body shirt. No
big deal, a couple of tugs, and the crotch snaps
opened, even though the shirt and the panties under it
were now soaked with her juices. Ginger sat up and
tugged the shirt over her head impatiently, and I
finally saw her breasts, those marvelous breasts that
I'd dreamt of so often.
My dreams hadn't done them justice. Ginger's breasts
weren't massive, but they were well proportioned to
her long, slender frame; firm as a teenager's with her
nipples tilted up just enough to qualify as "perky."
Her breasts were nearly as tanned as the rest of her
body, and I remembered the little patio out back with
the privacy fence, which kept her neighbors from spying
on her. Apparently she took full advantage of it. Her
nipples were about the size and length of pencil
erasers, a dark rose color surrounded by deep pink
areolae about the size of a half-dollar. I looked down
over her flat, toned belly as I slipped her wet panties
down those long, luscious legs and noted there were no
tan lines below either. Her pubic hair was neatly
trimmed to accommodate her skimpy bikinis and was
clipped short. It was the same honey blond color as
the hair on her head, and I could see her outer labia
were swollen and opening, revealing the dark pink
color of her engorged inner lips. My eyes roamed slowly
upward from her feet--actually a little small for her
height--along those gorgeous legs and up her body until
I saw her smiling at me.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" she asked, giggling
like a schoolgirl.
"Sorry, I got lost staring at the most beautiful woman
I've ever seen," I replied truthfully, if a bit
hoarsely. "What am I forgetting?"
"Get out of those clothes; I want to see you, too."
I realized I was still fully dressed. I kicked off my
shoes as I hurriedly peeled my tee shirt over my head
and unbuckled my belt. Ginger's nimble fingers had
already unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, and now she
helped me peel them down along with my briefs. I kicked
them toward the bedroom chair and dropped to the bed
beside her, my arms going around her and pulling her
close, feeling the hardness of her nipples pressing
into my chest. We kissed again--wet open-mouthed kisses
accompanied by frantic caresses. Her breathing was as
harsh as my own as our hands explored one another's
bodies. Despite having come just a few minutes earlier,
I felt every nerve ending in my skin come alive to the
sensation of her slender fingers gliding over my body.
Ginger purred like a friendly cat as I kissed down her
neck and the upper slopes of her breasts--purring that
changed to soft moans as my lips and tongue danced
lightly over her rock-hard nipples. I sucked one into
my mouth and flicked my tongue against the underside
as I pressed the sensitive tip against the rough
surface of my palate. I felt her fingers tangling in
my hair, holding my mouth to her breast. I spent
several minutes worshipping her magnificent breasts,
licking and sucking her nipples--even biting them
gently and tugging them with my teeth, which brought
forth a string of approving breathless comments.
I began to kiss gradually down her belly, eliciting
giggles when my tongue flicked in and out of her
bellybutton, and then she gasped more when my tongue
began to trace the edges of her pubic triangle. She
arched her back and cried out when my tongue slid down
over her swollen clit and explored between her slick
inner lips. Her scent was slightly musky, with
undertones of jasmine perfume, and her copious juices
were clear and almost sweet. I parted her labia with
my thumbs and began to flick the tip of my tongue
between them, around the entrance to her cunt.
"I'm wet enough, baby--you don't have to do that if
you don't want to," she moaned.
"You're more than 'wet enough," I replied, "but this
isn't about getting you wet--I want to see you, smell
you, hear you, feel you, and taste you when you come.
I want to experience your orgasm with all my senses."
I caressed her with my fingers and licked up and down
the length of her slit, my tongue occasionally brushing
over her clit but not really attacking it directly.
Ginger's long legs slid over my shoulders, and her
heels began to move against the muscles of my back as
she spread her legs wider the more I licked and nuzzled
her sweet pussy. Gently easing the index and middle
fingers of my right hand inside her, I glided my tongue
upward and began to lightly tease her clit, bouncing
the hard little nub on the tip of my tongue. I heard
her gasp again, and her pussy clamped down on my
fingers. She shuddered and stiffened, then began to
thrash about as her first orgasm washed over her so
that I had to hold tight to her hips in order to keep
my tongue on target.
"Oh, shit! Oh, God, that's so fucking good!" she cried
out. "Yes, baby, right there! Oh, GOD!" Her nails dug
into my scalp as she pulled my willing face closer to
her crotch. "Fuck yes! Oh, baby, just keep doing that!"
As I felt the spasms inside her slowing, I removed my
fingers from her cunt and began to thrust my tongue in
and out of her hot, flowing pussy. My slick fingers
brushed against either side of her clit, and within a
couple of minutes, she was crying out again and
drumming her heels on my back. I kept alternating my
tongue and fingers on various parts of her pussy until
she finally let her legs slide from my shoulders and
pushed me away weakly.
"Oh, baby, I'm getting too sensitive--I can't take any
more for now," she murmured hoarsely.
I slowed, my tongue and jaw nearly numb, though I was
reluctant to leave the taste and scent of her. My face
was drenched with her juices, and I rested my head on
her thigh, smiling up at her. In a minute, still
breathing raggedly, she smiled back down at me with
her eyes shining brightly.
"I've never come like that before," she whispered. "It
was like being on a roller coaster that didn't end."
Ginger slipped her arms around my waist as I slid up
her body and stretched out beside her. All of this time
going down on her had given me one of those hard-ons
that feel like they'll never go away; although, I knew
from the feeling of her strong, slender fingers, which
encompassed it and stroked it gently, that I was far
from numb. I wanted to look into her eyes when she
came again, and I told her so.
"More? You really think I can come again so soon after
that?"
"There's only one sure way to find out, isn't there?
The only question is if you want the top or the bottom.
I don't care as long as I get to watch that beautiful
face."
Ginger's only answer was to roll over and squat over
me, slowly lowering her hips until I could feel the
head of my cock nestled between the slick inner lips
of her cunt. She reached down with one hand until she
got the alignment she wanted, then stared into my eyes
as she braced her hands on my chest and slowly sank
down on my cock, letting the swollen head feel every
little ripple inside her as she engulfed me in her
heat. My hands reached up and cradled her marvelous
breasts, my fingers delicately attacking her erect
nipples. The only points of contact between us as she
began sliding slowly up and down my rigid length were
my hands on her tits, hers on my chest, and that
wonderful friction of my hard cock sliding in and out
of her very wet, willing pussy.
For the longest time I just lay there, my hands
caressing and exploring her breasts, but otherwise
just drinking in the sensations. The sight of her
lovely body moving up and down on mine, her lovely
face a study in concentration. It seemed as though
she was throwing not only her body but her whole
consciousness into pleasing me (and hopefully herself)
as droplets of sweat rolled down her face, and her
wavy golden tresses flew about her head in rhythm with
her motions. Her expression was that of the
accomplished athlete putting forth total effort in
a passionately dedicated quest. That look of
concentration was punctuated occasionally by a secret
smile or gasp of pure delight as some wave of
sensation passed through her body. She moved her hips
in little circles and then sometimes straight back
and forth as they rose and fell at a slowly increasing
tempo.
Her breasts moved in counterpoint to her hips, it
seemed, though I did my best to keep them from
bouncing too much within the loving grasp of my
hands. Beyond the visual stimulation of watching her
determined assault on my sanity, there was the
tactile sensation. It wasn't just the friction,
enhanced by the rhythmic tightening and relaxation
of her internal muscles, but the feel of her skin
under my hands as we both became drenched with the
sweet sweat of sexual effort. The occasional impact
of a droplet of her sweat falling onto my body
delivered a little shock like a warm, slow spring
rain. Above the aroma of fresh perspiration and
surrounding us like a blanket was the scent of
aroused woman. Nothing compares to that scent,
slightly tangy with a hint of musk and unidentifiable
undertones that made every inhalation an aphrodisiac
delight.
Several times I felt tremors move through her body,
and the flush that extended from her hairline to the
roundness of her breasts deepened. Though neither of
us made a sound beyond our harsh breathing and
occasional grunts and moans, I knew Ginger had
reached another little peak of pleasure. Gradually
her pace quickened until finally her knees came to
rest beside my ribs, and she began to slam her hips
down with each stroke, igniting my own passions. I
responded by digging my heels into the bed and
thrusting up to meet her, the soft slap of damp skin
meeting equally damp skin which grew faster and
louder.
Ginger's blue eyes locked with mine as she began
building to another major eruption. Breathlessly she
urged me onward. We were vocal, too, in urging each
other on. As our climaxes neared, we gasped and cried
out sweet obscenities to push one another over the
edge.
"Danny!" she moaned. "Oh, God, yes!"
"Come for me, Ginger--God, baby, I want to feel you
come again!"
The rest was just wordless moans and screams for a
while as Ginger's body went rigid, except for her
hips, which ground down against me spasmodically as
the inner walls of her pussy clutched at my cock. As
she slowed and began to slump forward onto my chest,
I rolled us over so that now I was above her, my
weight supported on my hands.
As soon as her hips stopped moving, I pulled back and
slammed forward, the force of my thrusts driving her
hips down into the firm mattress just as she had done
to me. I abandoned all restraint--there was no more
attempt at tender lovemaking; this was fucking, raw
and animal, and Ginger's heels were soon digging into
the cheeks of my ass.
She urged me to fuck her even harder as we both began
the wild ride toward our ultimate explosion. I felt
her nails digging into my shoulders and back while
our bodies slammed together like rutting beasts. I
could tell she not only accepted the challenge of
achieving one more orgasm, she welcomed it. I felt
her lips and tongue teasing and biting my nipples, and
I knew I wouldn't last much longer, but I held back
doggedly, determined to wrest one more orgasm from
this sweet goddess, who was so generously sharing
herself with me, before I lost all control.
"Harder, baby!" Ginger gasped. "Fuck me deep and hard--
yes, like that!"
Just as I lost all ability to maintain any kind of
rhythm, Ginger screamed out my name in a long, drawn-
out wail and went absolutely rigid under me. Her heels
pressed me inside her at the same time my hips drove
forward. I felt her cervix kissing the swollen head of
my cock in the instant before I began to shudder and
empty myself inside her. The spasms within her heated
cunt milked me until I collapsed, and I could barely
find the strength to propel my weight to the side, so
I didn't crush her beneath me.
We lay like that for long minutes, drawing in great
gulps of air to feed our starved lungs. I'm sure she
could feel the rapid pounding of my heart just as I
could feel hers, and as our breathing and heart rates
began to return to normal, I turned toward her and saw
the glow in her cheeks and eyes. I tenderly brushed
some wet tendrils of hair from her face, and our lips
met softly, clinging as we trembled through uncounted
little aftershocks.
"Danny, that was.no one has ever.oh, fuck--I've never
come like that in my life," she giggled.
"I could tell that from our conversation earlier," I
panted, smiling and brushing one hand from her shoulder
to her hip with all the delicacy my shaking hand could
manage. "I wanted so much for you, at least once, to
know what it feels like for someone to be as focused
on giving to you as they are on receiving pleasure
from you."
We traded murmured endearments and soft caresses for
a few more minutes before sleep overtook us. When we
woke to the morning sun peeking through the blinds
over her bedroom window, we shared the shower and
cleaned each other thoroughly (filling the shower with
as much laughter as steam) before stumbling into the
kitchen for coffee and juice. We sat together nude on
her little patio and talked quietly, laughing and
joking like the friends we were and the lovers we
might become, until Ginger took my hand and led me
back to the bedroom.
Our lovemaking this time was slower, less driven, but
each of us was determined to make it special for the
other. While our orgasms weren't the wild explosions
they had been in the wee hours of the morning, I did
manage to hold mine back until Ginger had crested at
least twice, finally reaching my own release as she
alternated sucking me and stroking me between her
warm, firm breasts. She laughed with delight when at
last I erupted between those incredible breasts,
directing some of my shots onto her tits before she
sucked the remaining semen from my cock with her
mouth.
After another quick shower we dressed and drove back
to the apartment complex to retrieve her Jeep. I had
to return to the ship to prepare for a short temporary
duty assignment, and we didn't make any specific plans
for my return.
Although Ginger and I dated several times over my
remaining months in San Diego and made love at least
a couple of times a month, we remained more friends
than lovers. My own social life improved thanks in
no small part to Ginger introducing me favorably to
some of her female classmates at SDSU. The weekend
before my discharge from the Navy, we did drive up
the coast to a beautiful, little inn near San Luis
Obispo where we did our best to drive one another
insane with sex. We also found time for dancing and
sampling some incredible food at the inn and at a
restaurant nearby.
Our letter writing gradually dwindled and stopped
after I returned home. Ginger became just a memory,
but one that I treasure. To this day, I find myself
reaching into the storehouse of my mind and drawing
up the memories of those magical months. I have no
regrets when I look back, only warm thoughts and an
occasional moment of wondering if Ginger, wherever
and whatever she may be today, also looks back from
time to time and smiles at the recollection.
Whatever road you've traveled, Ginger, and wherever
you find yourself--I still love you.
* * * *
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I want to thank those who helped me by
proofreading and editing this story for publication.
David and John, your help was invaluable. Special
thanks to Miss Behavin' for her inspiration and her
generosity. Without you this story would not have seen
the light of day. Any errors in this story are purely
the fault of the author; I welcome your comments.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 10