Ginger and Chris Ch. 01

The first time I watched Ginger have an orgasm with another man was on a dance floor in a club. They'd been dancing together for a while. She'd singled him out, dancing with him early on, moving on to others, but eventually returning and focusing on him.

She had her right leg wrapped partially around his left, her dangerously-high high-heel planted on the floor behind him. He was leaning back at the waist, left hand firmly on her lower back, holding her against him as he pumped his hips toward her. I noticed their rhythm was slightly out of synch with the music just then, and realized what she was doing. She had her left hand on his right shoulder. Her right hand, initially on his waist, moved to his left forearm as her own hip thrusts quickened in pace. She gripped his forearm tightly, her glossy nails dug in to his skin, and her head lolled back slightly to expose her neck, glistening with sweat. The lights pulsed, the music throbbed, and my wife came as another guy dry-fucked her right before my eyes. I saw her mouth fall open and suppose she cried out, but the crowd and the music drowned out any sound she may have made before it reached my ears.

This wasn't how I'd imagined it would go in all the years of cuckolding fantasy, first with my former wife, and then with Ginger. Not in my thoughts since she'd finally made it a reality some 9 months prior, either. No, it hadn't gone like this in my head. I suppose that's why fantasy is fantasy.

Don't get me wrong. I wasn't complaining. It was still hot to watch...incredibly hot. My cock, pulsing along steadily beneath the table for the past few hours as I watched her dancing, had begun to throb in earnest as I realized what was happening. I have come to equate my cuckold experiences with that old line about blow jobs. There is no such thing as a bad one, only varying degrees of good ones.

This insight comes only with experience, I believe. That night in the club marked a whole new level in my relationship with Ginger. Passion, lust, jealousy, and anger rose to new heights between the two of us in the months that would follow.

The trip to the club that early spring night had its beginnings back in the fall. Ginger had been cuckolding me with increasing frequency since the summer. We'd each become more comfortable as the months passed and the number of guys she slept with, or in her own words, "the number of guys who fucked me", increased. She likes my reaction when she speaks harshly.

That fall night, she picked up a guy in a hotel bar as I watched, our favored M.O. After learning he was local to the area, she had me get them a room. The details, one of our hotter experiences, are included in "Ginger Picks Up the Pace" for those interested.

What set us off on a new path, however, was the decreased time between her finishing with him and starting with me. Typically she would leave the guy, get a cab, and come home to me. This time I hung around the bar and was with her only a few minutes after he left, however. Her creampie was much "fresher" than our previous encounters as a result, her lover's cum still visible and thick at the base of her slit. Seeing me go down on her in this state had clearly brought her arousal to new a new level, and had set her to thinking how best to repeat (or even improve) the experience.

"You want to watch me, Thomas?" she had asked, out of the blue, as we finished breakfast before work the Wednesday after that encounter.

Our schedules varied, but we typically found time once or twice a week to get up, have some breakfast and drive in together. We have some of our best, and certainly most interesting, conversations these mornings.

Being only 2/3 of the way through my first cup of coffee, I had no idea what she was talking about.

"Watch you what, babe?"

She blushed slightly, a rarity in talking about this part of our lives, and gave a short laugh. "Ummmmm...YOU know...WATCH me...?"

Being the quick-study that I am, I still had to think about it. She threw one hip out to the side, feigning frustration.

"Oh...Ohhhhhhh. Hmmm." I typically catch up, eventually.

She cocked her head at me in a question. It's one of those little things she does often, in lieu of words, that made me fall in love with her. She's damn cute when she does it.

"I....jeez, I haven't thought much about it. I mean, I think I'd like to, but..."

She just continued to look at me, content to let me work it out on my own.

"The thing is...I really LIKE how we've been doing things...how it's been going. But I also still get that feeling inside while I watch you in the bars before you leave with a guy. I compare them to me, and in my mind they always come out ahead. Better looking, better bodies, funnier, more engaging.

All of it gets pushed aside by the excitement I feel, and then when you come home later and are the way you are with me, it makes everything fine again. But ...I don't know how it'd be if I was actually watching you with someone, considering how I feel seeing you with them fully-clothed."

She walked across the kitchen to me, heels clicking on the tile. She pulled in close and put her arms around my neck. I breathed her in, soap, shampoo, baby oil, and perfume mixed together in a light and intoxicating scent.

"Thomas..." she said, looking in to my eyes. "I don't candy-coat anything with you, right?"

I shook my head.

"We agreed we wouldn't when we started this, right?"

"Yes." I replied.

"You still OK with that?"

"Of course." I answered, suddenly unsure.

"OK. So first, I have NEVER been with anyone who is better looking than you. Not once. Not since we started this, not since I met you, not ever that I remember."

I felt my face flush. She didn't lie to me, at least that I knew of, but it was hard for me to hear and believe what she was saying.

As if she knew what I was thinking, she continued. "I won't lie to you Thomas. I can't prove it, but you'll have to trust me on that. Now, I HAVE been with guys who have better bodies than you. And I've been honest with you every time you ask about their, um...equipment."

She couldn't suppress her small smile as she said that last bit.

"And I purposely pick guys who are engaging and funny, 'cause that's the kind of guy I like talking to. But again, none of the guys I've met have been "more" of those than you. Some different, but no one I'd say is "more" than you."

She gazed up in to my eyes.

"OK. Thanks for that." I said.

She kissed me lightly, pulled away, it was time for us to get on the road.

"I don't know how to get you over those feelings, baby." she continued as we got in the car and headed to work. "But I do know I'd love for you to be there and watch. I mean, I would REALLY love it."

"I'll give it some thought, Gin...I'd like to if you'd really enjoy it." I answered.

We rode in silence for a bit.

"Let's both think on it, see what we come up with." she said as I pulled in front of her building. She leaned over, kissed me, then hiked up her skirt as she stepped out of the car, giving me a great shot of her panties.

I beeped the horn in protest, she waggled her ass at me and walked away.

To her credit, she didn't push it hard after we initially talked about it. She continued to bring it up in conversation though. She also started to sprinkle it in as she'd tell me about her nights out and coax me along as we had sex, trying to help me get my head around the idea.

Lying on my back in our bed for instance, her legs splayed on either side of my head as she dipped her cum-filled slit over my mouth, she'd ask "I know you like cleaning me up, baby...but don't you wanna see them fill me up, too?"

Or just after I'd fucked her to orgasm, she'd look up at me, all innocent and wide-eyed, and say "Mmm...you like watching me cum, don't you baby? Mmmm hmmmm...I know you do...you love to see me get off...it would be the same, Thomas...maybe better...watching me get off while someone else fucks me..."

Of course, at these moments, I readily agreed with her. It would be hot. I did love to watch her cum. It would definitely turn me on to watch her get off on another guy. If I could only get past the jealousy.

I worked on it too. Watching her in bars as they approached her, seeing them sit with her, staring mesmerized when she'd touch their arms, or let their hands slip beneath the hem of her skirt, I tried to stop comparing myself to them and instead focus on her, concentrate only on how much she enjoyed doing it.

It was helping. I told myself that, for me at least, this was all about her pleasure, and focusing on that helped a lot.

The winter months drifted by. The frequency of our outings, and the pace of guys she hooked up with, slowed down a bit. This was mostly due to weeknights being the best nights for hooking up with guys traveling on business and staying in hotels nearby. We had to back off the weeknights however, as working the day after an intense night was barely tolerable.

She started to explore a few cuckolding sites in more earnest, setting up profiles and messaging back and forth with some guys. We also started taking the adult dating sites she'd signed up for more seriously and found a few good candidates to compliment the random bar hook-ups.

Something else became evident. She was hitting the gym harder. Not that she was fat before, but she was tightening things up.

I guess I also noticed, but didn't realize, was how her skin was getting paler. It was winter so somewhat natural, but she typically tried to keep some color year round, taking advantage of warmer winter days (which to me is all of them down here) to catch what sun she could.

The lightness of her skin really hit me one day as she stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, fresh from a shower.

"Gonna need shades the first time I see you in a bikini this summer." I chided her.

She gave a wicked little smile. "You finally noticed?" she asked.

I was puzzled. "Mmmm...I guess I noticed before, but it didn't occur to me. Suddenly concerned about skin cancer?"

She chuckled. "No...I guess it's not a bad idea, but that's not why." She left me hanging.

I walked to her, pulled her close to me, stroked her shoulders and back, feeling her now tighter muscles beneath her skin, and said "Huh...losing that baby-fat I love so much...staying out of the sun all of a sudden...what's up with you?"

"It's a surprise." she answered.

"Hmmm...and how can I get you to reveal this surprise?"

She ignored me, instead letting her hands fall to undo my pants and push them down as she lowered herself to her knees.

"Don't try to change the subject." I said halfheartedly.

Still ignoring me, she took my growing cock in to her mouth, began working it with her hand, and turned her eyes up toward me.

I don't know that I've mentioned it previously, but Ginger gives amazing head. Typically I'm caught up in pleasing her, and that coupled with my only having one shot in the gun when we have sex makes it a rarity for her to finish me off in that way. But when she does, oh man.

I expected her to stop before I came so that we could move to the bed and get her more involved, but instead she picked up the intensity. Within a minute, my knees were buckling and I exploded in her mouth. I watched her throat work, listened to the soft "mmmm...mmmm...mmm" sounds she made, swallowing greedily as she sucked the last drops from me. Then she pulled back, kissed my deflating head softly, and stood up.

I began to push her toward the bed, intending to return the favor, but she placed a hand on my chest and shook her head.

"Huh-uh...that one was all for you baby..." she whispered, then turned away to get dressed.

I stood in a post-orgasm stupor, watching her. My mind cleared after a few minutes.

"That didn't make me forget about the surprise." I said defiantly. Of course it had, at least for a few minutes.

"What surprise?" she asked simply. Though she had her back to me, I knew she was smiling.

The surprise, or at least the start of it, was this night in the club. I had begun to grasp an inkling of it early this morning.

I'd been in Dallas on business since Tuesday and was supposed to return Thursday, last night. Weather delays turned that in to a nightmare and I'd staggered home after 2 this morning. Ginger had been sleeping soundly. I'd collapsed in to bed and must have fallen straight to sleep.

I awoke slowly with the sensation of being watched some hours later. I opened my eyes and sat up with a start, heart suddenly hammering. There was a strange blonde standing over me by the bed.

"Shh...shh...it's me baby..." Ginger whispered, placing a hand on my shoulder.

She had dyed her hair again. Blonde this time. And I mean BLONDE, like platinum blonde. She was dressed for work. She sat on the edge of the bed.

"You didn't wake me last night, or I'd have shown you." she said.

"It was late." I said foggily, letting my fingers glide through it near her ear. "You look great."

She smiled. "It's too dark for you to know how it looks...you're just trying to get in my panties." she told me.

She was right. I pulled her closer, but she pulled away and stood. "Huh uh...you're in the middle of your 24-hour hold, Thomas."

My 24-hour hold meant she planned to find a guy, and since I was in the middle of it, I guessed it would be tonight.

She looked down at me, a pleased smile on her face as she noticed the bulge mid-way down my body. Just the thought made me rock-hard almost instantly.

"Why the hair, Gin?" I asked, mainly because I wanted to keep her there and nothing else came to mind.

She bent to kiss me, a soft and lingering kiss, then whispered, "It's time for your surprise..."

Then she left. I watched her go, then thought a while and pieced together the clues. Pale skin, platinum blonde hair. Before she had started to cuckold me for real, she'd done some studying and come across a lot of interracial themes. We'd spent some time talking through the things I liked, and I'd admitted that seeing black guys with white girls was a major turn-on, particularly the contrast of dark against light skin. Now I wondered. Her first time, the thing that had started us off on her cuckolding me, had been with a black guy. She'd been with two more since, but mostly it was white guys who hit on her and so who it was white guys she hooked up with. Pale skin...blonde hair...she wants me to watch her with a guy. The only thing I couldn't figure was the working out. Her body had been fine before, why the working out? I was still missing something.

I thought I'd have trouble getting back to sleep in the state she'd left me, but exhaustion won out. I woke again just before 10, sleeping later than I intended. I roused myself, tried unsuccessfully to not think of Ginger, and made it to the office by 11.

She sent me a text picture message after lunch time. The text said "Sarah thought you should see what you missed last night." with a smiley face. In the picture, she stood outside in the sun, all high heels and mini skirt and tight-fitting blouse, sunglasses, jacket hanging on a finger over one shoulder, bright blonde hair shining in the sunlight. Sarah must have taken the picture for her. I gazed at it for a long minute, wondering what was in store for the evening.

She called shortly after. I answered with "Geezus, Gin..."

She laughed, then covered the phone. "Hey Sar...about what we expected..." I heard them both laughing. She came back on the phone.

"Sarah thought you'd like that." she said playfully.

"She was right. What's going on tonight?" I asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"That's what I'm calling about. You going to work late?"

"Well, I slept a bit and got here late, so I have some catching up, but it's nothing critical. I'd rather see you." I said.

"No...it's OK. What I want to do..." she let it linger for a few seconds. "We should start that a bit later anyway. And...hang on a sec..."

There was a pause, I head a door close. My heart thudded in anticipation, I thought she was about to start talking about her plans for tonight.

Instead she said "Sorry...had to get in a room...anyway, I'm going to take Sarah out for a couple of drinks and talk to her. Things aren't going so good with Jeff, and I think she needs a few laughs."

"Oh...OK. Well, I can stay and get some things done then. Want me to meet you somewhere?" I answered.

"Mmmm...meet me at home. I need to go on home and change anyway. We don't need to leave until after 9."

"What are we doing?" I ventured.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she teased in reply. "I just hope you're not too tired after your trip...it's gonna be a late night, Thomas."

I became aware of my cock, yet again on the rise.

"So I'll be home around 9?" I said.

"Or a little earlier...you know...if you want to help me get dressed." And then a click and she was gone.

I sat back in my chair, trying to think of something to douse my hard-on, when my phone buzzed with another text. "Love you baby..."

I sent her a "back at you" and then tried to re-focus on work.

The rest of the day dragged. My heart was thumping when I walked in the house around 8:40. There were just a few of the dim lights we keep on at night lit the downstairs. Light spilled from the hall to the landing at the top of the steps, and I headed up to our room.

The bedroom door stood open. "Gin?" I said as I walked in.

Today's outfit was piled on the floor by the bed. A dress...if you could call it a dress, was spread out on the bed. A pair of shoes, with what looked like long straps and very high heels, sat on the floor next to today's clothing.

"In here baby...be right out." she called from the bathroom.

"How's everything with Sarah?" I asked, walking to the bed, picking up the dress. There was hardly anything to it.

"Not so good...let's not talk about that now..." she answered.

I was a but mesmerized by the dress, didn't notice she'd stepped in to the room. Her voice behind me gave me a little start.

"You like?" she asked.

I dropped the dress, felt a bit like a kid caught peeking somewhere he shouldn't be, and turned around quickly.

She stood in the bathroom doorway, nude except for black panties. They rode over her hips, the sides splitting in to two strings. They dipped between her legs, a thin strip barely covering her slit. They were tight, I could see her clearly defined lips beneath them. She had shaved herself completely.

She appraised my look, a knowing smile on her lips. "Thought you'd like these."

She padded barefoot across the room to me, stood close, and I picked up her scent, amazingly arousing as always.

"I asked if you liked the dress, Thomas." she said a bit firmly.

I nodded. I did, but I wondered about going out in it. As much as I liked her to dress sexy, neither of us was 21 anymore, and the dress was, well, hardly a dress.

"Do you?" she asked. "I want you to be honest with me. Because the last time I wore a club outfit with you, I could tell you didn't like it, but you wouldn't say so."

I knew what she was talking about, but it had been years ago. She came to Washington DC to see me once while I was on a business trip. I was still married, she was in the middle of her wild days. She'd brought an outfit that she wore to clubs, a sparkling silver number that left nothing to the imagination. She'd looked great in it, but I couldn't imagine her going out in public like that. I have a lousy poker face. She'd concluded that I didn't like it on her. So she'd changed.

"Ginger...damn...that was a long time ago, and it's not that I didn't like it..." I started.

She put a finger over my lips. I noticed her nails, long tips, lacquered in a fresh french manicure, my favorite.

"I know Thomas, and we don't need to talk about that. What I asked was, do you like this dress?"