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 Archive name: ginger.txt (MF, rom)
 Authors name: John Jameson (Jameson1780@altavista.com)
 Story title : Ginger

 ------------------------------------------------------
 This story Copyright (c) December 1999, John Jameson,
 All rights reserved. Permisson is hereby granted to
 post this story on non-profit archives, specifically
 ASSTR, as long as the story and this notice remain
 intact. No permission is granted to post this story
 in any form on any for-profit site, including banner-
 supported, membership or sites requiring "adult
 verification" IDs. 
 ------------------------------------------------------
 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