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THE CREAMING OF GINGER

Part One

Nostalgic Recollections From The Golden Age of Troilism * * * * * *

"Isn't she beautiful?"

Ginger's voice was low and he could have been asking himself the question. But the man outside the car murmured his agreement through the half open window. It was after ten and the only light on The Heath was a dim orange glow from the town below. So the interior light seemed brighter than it really was, though it was turned down low. The woman's black roll-necked jumper was pulled up over her breasts, leaving them white and naked for all the world to see, though only Mick was there. They were full and firm, even though she was in her late thirties and laying back in the reclining seat. Ginger was smoothing them gently with his fingertips, round and round the light brown nipples, making them stand out proudly, as if with a will of their own.

Pam's eyes were shut tight and the roll-neck of her jumper was pulled up over her mouth. No kissing, she'd told him. Not at first, anyway. And remember, I'm only doing it for you. To get some peace. Letting some stranger maul me about while you get your pleasure watching is not my idea of how a marriage should be run.

And yet he'd worn down her initial horror and disgust bit by bit, day by day, never letting it rest, telling her how much he loved her and how proud he was of her, and how he so wanted to show her off. Wearing her down slowly, telling her how it worried him that she'd never known another man like that, and how she must feel curious and might want to try it sometime and how he couldn't bear the betrayal or the thought of losing her. Ever since she'd danced too close, too long, with his friend Mark at the firm's Christmas party.

Just an innocent Christmas kiss that had been a bit too passionate to be completely innocent. And now, eight months later, here she was, showing her breasts to an absolute stranger, staked out like bait to attract a predator.

She shuddered at the thought. Or was it the restless, gnawing excitement she'd felt ever since he'd first suggested it? The unbearable butterflies that fluttered and tickled inside her when she tried to sleep and instead found herself thinking about a new man inside her. A man that smelt, felt and tasted different to the only man she'd ever loved.

Feeling her tremble with pleasure, Ginger leaned across her and opened the window completely.

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"They feel as good as they look, Mick. Try them for yourself."

Mick didn't need any encouragement but something wasn't quite right. When they'd arranged it, Ginger had told him it was the first time she'd ever done anything like this and he might have to be patient. But she lay there rigidly, arms stiff by her side, eyes shut and head turned away from him. And then there was the jumper, with the neck pulled up over her mouth.

"Would that be all right, Pam?"

His voice was soft and cultured, his tone friendly but concerned. A nice voice, she decided. You could trust a voice like that.

"Yeah, of course it's all right. She wants you to, don't you, Pam?" His whining, cajoling voice cut right through her. He could be so patronizing sometimes. Oh well, he won't stop until I do it. Let him have his pleasure.

"I'll make my own mind up!" she hissed. She never called him by name when others were around. It would only have been a question of time before someone put Sam and Pam together and started calling them Spam.

"OK, if you like." Her voice was shaking.

"Are you sure, Pam?"

That voice! It was hypnotic!

"Only you seem a lovely lady and you have such beautiful breasts. I wouldn't want to do anything you didn't want. Would it be all right to hold them?"

Surprised and flattered at his concern, Pam opened her eyes and turned towards him. He had crouched to bring his head level with hers and was looking at her with genuine concern. Instantly a wave of relief swept through her. This was no dirty old man in a raincoat. He looked fresh and clean, and his fair hair shone in the interior light. He was younger than them and better looking than Sam. She took in the warm brown eyes. He was no pervert, she decided. If he was, he'd be staring down at my tits, like I thought he would be.

The stranger reached into the car. His hands were immaculate, his shirt cuffs crisp and white. An expensive watch gleamed on his wrist. And he didn't grab or maul me, she thought, he just wants to touch hands. He wants my consent.

Sam squeezed her right hand.

"See. I told you he was nice. Go on!"

He was still looking her straight in the eye. She reached out and slipped her hand over his. It was a strong hand but soft and gentle. A hand you could trust. The butterflies fluttered in her chest, making her breathless. She pulled his hand down onto her left breast and he gently cupped it. She felt her nipple stiffen as his palm brushed across it. Still holding his wrist she pulled him across to the other one. Sam leaned across, pulled the roll-neck from her face and kissed her, squeezing her hand as the stranger explored her breasts. Pam closed her eyes and surrendered to the pleasure. If it happens, it happens, she thought. I can't do anything about it.

Ginger let go of her hand and put his hand on her knees, pushing them slightly apart and running his fingers up her thighs, pausing to feel her suspenders, tracing their outline, trying to push her skirt higher.

He's too fast, too eager as usual, she thought. Slow down, Sam, please. But he was already tugging at her pants and she lifted up her hips, to let him pull them down.

The stranger's hand was never still, his fingers running lightly over her breasts, up inside her jumper, down across her stomach, sometimes dipping slightly below the waistband of her skirt. She suddenly realized she was pulling her tummy in, trying to give him more room.

Sam leaned down to take her knickers off and she helped him, lifting each foot in turn. She looked down and saw her skirt had ridden up far enough to show the tops of her stockings. The stranger's eyes swept over her like searchlights, taking in her long slim legs, her naked, white breasts, her short blonde hair and pretty, upturned face. Sam was being as clumsy as ever. He hadn't much finesse at the best of times but his fingers were hurting her, digging into the tender insides of her thighs, forcing them roughly apart, trying to put her on show, like a piece of meat in a butcher's window. He'd bruise her if she kept resisting. So she closed her eyes and relaxed, leaving her legs wide open, sliding down the seat to help him as he tried to push her skirt up. It was his fault, she thought, he chose the tight one. At last, she lifted her bottom and he pushed it up over her hips. There, now you've got what you wanted, Sam. Now you've put everything I've got on show. He must be able to see the lot.

He could and Mick's hands were trembling and his throat was dry. His erection was trapped at an awkward angle and he reached down into his trousers with his free hand to rearrange things. Oh, that was better. He had a hard-on that could have knocked a hole in concrete. What a lovely body! A shock of tight black curls had sprung into view, framed perfectly by her milk white thighs and belly, themselves a vision in black stockings and lace.

"You must be cold out there, Mick. Why don't you get in with us?"

Ginger's voice broke into his reverie. It was a mild night, he was sweating and his shirt was stuck to his back. But he wasn't going to turn down an offer like that. Even though both front seats were occupied.

"We'll make room for you. C'mon Pam, move up."

Pam did as she was told and with great difficulty, Mick squeezed in beside her. She giggled softly at the trouble he was having. The irony was that she'd had to close her legs tight to let him in. Mick laughed too. There could be no gentle seduction here. The only practical solution was for Pam to open her legs and for him to kneel on the floor between them. Still, at least they could laugh about it. And they did so, as they twisted and shifted uncomfortably, until at last he was in position. Only to find that laughter does nothing for erections.

So they started again and were soon back on course. Pam had forgotten all about her 'no kissing' rule and pulled him towards her. Their mouths met and within seconds he was ready for her, pulling at his belt and zip and pushing down his pants in quiet desperation. Suddenly he felt her heat and curls and wetness on his naked cock and slipped deeply and effortlessly into her.

From his seat inches away, Ginger watched fascinated as his old school friend mounted his wife and began fucking her. It was something he'd always wanted to see and yet now, as he watched it with an intoxicating mixture of pleasure and regret, he wasn't so sure. It was as if he were locked into his own blue movie, one that couldn't be stopped or paused or replayed. He looked down to where he knew their bodies were joined but could see nothing. He felt cheated. He wanted to see how big it was, to see it going in and out, to see it fuck his wife. He should have thought it out better. Damn!

Pam had drawn her knees up and back and was matching her stranger thrust for thrust, as he plunged in and out of her, timing her movements to let him get in further, go deeper, until she could feel his balls banging against her. Feel his tight, muscular buttocks clenching as he drove it home, pounding her, rutting into her. And deep down she felt her orgasm starting, pulsing with a life of its own, writhing in her belly, building, building, building. Don't come yet, dear God, don't let him come yet, not yet. Oh God I can feel it coming, feel it growing, feel him inside me, yes, stretching me, pounding me, fucking me. Oh God yes, fucking me and yes, its coming, its coming, oh God I'm coming, I'm coming ....

Mick exploded into her with the pressure of a fire hose, pumping jet after jet of hot, thick sperm into her as his climax wracked his body, his back arching as his muscles went into spasm, his balls being sucked dry by a thousand eager mouths deep inside her, mouths that clamped and sucked and swallowed, emptying him, draining him dry. As if in a dream, he could hear her shouting, feel her convulsing, feel her sex grip him in exquisite agony, feel her nails cut and claw at his back, as they came together, thrusting and rutting and taking their pleasures until they could come no more.

* * * * * *

"If that's all right with you, Pam and I would like to be alone, Mick."

Oh God, Sam, thought Pam with her eyes still shut as she struggled to recover. Can't you ever wait?

Mick looked at Pam, smiled and shrugged. Ginger could be an uncouth bastard sometimes.

"Only this is a special moment for us. You don't mind, do you?"

Mick pulled up his pants, tucked his shirt in and zipped himself up. The spell had been broken, the moment had passed

"No, course not, Sam."

But he was looking at Pam, laying there with her eyes closed, some stray hair sticking to the sweat on her forehead. Still breathing hard, like having just run a race. He wanted to hold her and bring her gently back from wherever she'd gone to. But the man had said the show was over. And it was Ginger's show.

He closed the door and stood outside, sorting himself out, getting back in control, rubbing the back of his thigh, where he'd got cramp. Pam hadn't watched him go or said a word of goodbye and he could still see her, spread out on the seat just as he'd left her. And then Sam turned out the light and leaned across her.....

* * * * * *

"Pam? You all right? Pam, are you asleep?"

She never makes that much noise when I fuck her, Sam thought ruefully. She's exhausted. Well, tough, it's my turn now.

The insides of her thighs were no longer smooth under his finger tips but damp with perspiration, as his hand crept up towards her sex. He had to know. He knew what Mick must have left down there. Pam stirred in the warm darkness as his fingers found their target. Her curls were no longer soft and springy but wet and flat, stuck together in the heat of her sex.

He found her clitoris and gently worked his finger round and round, feeling it squirm in its coating of sperm. Pam seemed to revive, to come round gradually, still groggy, as if she'd been knocked out.

But her mind was working fast. She felt Sam's fingers slip inside her. She knew this was the real reason he'd pushed her so hard. She knew what he wanted. Men! They're still boys at forty. Messy little boys. Dirty little boys. Boys who love to play with each others toys, swap bikes, you ride mine and I'll ride yours. Boys who loved making a mess, poking their grubby little fingers into dark, smelly, places. Pathetic, really. Still, if that's what he wants, then he'd better have it. I'll rub his dirty little nose in it. See how he likes that. She turned to him in the darkness.

"Lay back, Sam, there's something I want to do."

Ginger wound the seat back down as far as it would go and pushed his pants down. He'd been hard for what seemed like hours and it bobbed up like it was desperate for air. Pam pushed him back in the seat, swung her leg over him, leaned forward and kissed him hard.

"I think I'm a bit sticky down there, Sam. Do you mind?"

His mouth too dry to speak, he shook his head.

"Cat got your tongue, lover?"

He cleared his throat. "Nah, mouth's a bit dry, that's all."

"It doesn't put you off, knowing he's been there?"

"No, course not. You know I love you. Something like that doesn't worry me."

His fingers were there again, seeking, searching in the warm oil of her sex. I fucking thought so, you dirty little boy. All that bullshit about being worried because I hadn't had any experience. Worried that I might get curious and have an affair. All those lies just to get this. Well it had better be worth it, honey, because you're going to fucking well pay for it.

She reached down and gripped his cock.

"You sure? "

She lowered herself down, taking just the knob in, just the swollen purple head. She teased him some more.

"What's it feel like? Any different, any wetter?" She slipped down another inch. He grunted in pleasure and tried to thrust upwards.

"Don't be in such a hurry! Urrrgh, I think it's coming out of me, Sam." She sank downwards, taking the full length, settling onto it, wriggling her bum. "Mmmm, so that's why they call it slippery seconds. I bet it's messy, hun. I bet you'll be covered in it. Shall we put the light back on and see?" She reached behind her for the switch and the car was flooded with light.

"Christ, Pam! Turn it down a bit!"

"No, I want to see. And so do you."

She sat upright, and looked down to where they were joined and eased herself upwards, with a soft, obscene sucking noise. A collar of thick cream had already formed around the base of his cock, sticking their hairs together and as Pam drew way from him, it stretched into a silky ribbon of sperm, still joining them together. The whole shaft glistened with a coating of thick white cream and when they parted, another ribbon of living sperm formed between them, uncoiling slowly from deep within her, flowing thickly from her, covering the swollen purple head, oozing over the rim and creeping down his shaft.

It was too much for him and Sam felt himself start to come. Pam sensed it too and sank back down on him, pushing a rim of cream before her and leaving it behind on her upward stroke, leaving it to stick and matt his hairs together. Faster and faster she fucked him, pulling his semen from him, drawing it from deep inside his balls, sucking it from him with those wonderfully obscene, soft squelching sounds, mixing their sperms into a smooth white sauce that filled her sex and ran down his prick, over his balls and onto his thighs.

Exhausted, they lay together recovering, lathered in sweat. At last, Sam spoke. One of his old jokes that had become a standard on the rare occasions they reached a climax together ....

"Christ, Pam. I nearly came just then!"

Glued to him, still joined together, she basked in the heat and sweat and smiled contentedly.

Oh, you haven't finished yet, Sam, she thought……

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART TWO

COPYRIGHT DAVID COOK 1997. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

E-MAIL: dcook@netcom.co.uk




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