Ginny Lays Her Claim

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This is the second chapter of a series. The characters and their situation were developed in the first chapter, entitled GINNY REMEMBERS DADDY. For continuity, it’s better to read that chapter first. Many thanks for your votes and supportive feedback.

“Hi, JJ,” purred the dulcet feminine tones into the phone as I picked it up.

“This is Jay,” I responded, flatly.

“I know, silly, it’s Ginny. After yesterday I’ve decided to call you ‘JJ.’ Do you like my new nickname for you?”

“Well…it’s better than ‘Daddy’. What’s up?” I asked quietly, looking around to see if anybody in the office was listening.

“I can’t get you out of my mind. Can I see you today?” asked my 20 year-old prospective daughter-in-law.

“Umm…I’m jammed. Everyone’s here and we’re struggling to meet a client deadline. May have to work over the weekend. Looks like Monday – maybe Tuesday — before I’ve got any time,” I answered.

“Oooo, I need my JJ fix,” Ginny said, petulantly. “I had fantastic dreams last night and I ache for you.”

I was standing at the desk of one of my employees and he looked up, curious to know with whom I was speaking. Cautiously, I said, “Listen, give me your number and I’ll call you back, okay?”

I went to my office, closed the door, and called Ginny on my private line. “Hello-o,” she crooned.

“Sorry I was so brusque, but it’s best to use the private line,” I cautioned. “Now listen, Ginny, I told you maybe we should have lunch next week and set some ground rules,” reflecting on the fabulous afternoon of fucking we’d had the day before.

“Yeah, I know, but I just can’t wait that long. I’m a little…you know…itchy inside, and every time I think of yesterday I wanna’ be with you,” she almost whined.

“Me too, honey, but I can’t possibly do it,” I said, trying to pacify her. “Besides, you and Mike have plenty of time for each other,” speaking of my stepson. “You should be doing marathon bedroom rehearsals for your honeymoon.”

“That’s different, JJ,” said Ginny. “Don’t you see that?”

“All I know is that we’ve got to be extra careful about our…meetings,” I maneuvered. “And if yesterday is any indication, we should meet where we can talk rationally and…be on our best behavior under the prying eyes of the public.”

“Do you know how sexy your voice is?” she asked. “I’m wet.”

“Please don’t start, Ginny,” I said, weakening. I’m very attracted to you, too, but let’s get serious,” I continued. “I’ve got a business to run, and a lot of people are depending on me.” God, I thought to myself, I sound every bit the pompous, fifty-year-old that I am.

Then, images of her came to mind: her sweet breath…her smooth, alabaster skin…thick, blonde hair…lithe, hard, 20 year-old body…the taste of her nipples and crotch…her deep, brown eyes. “Where are you now?” I asked.

“In the kitchen. Mom’s at work. I’m in my bathrobe. Wanna’ hear more?” she questioned, suggestively.

“Uhhh…no! I’m getting hard just talking with you,” and I was.

“Oh, God, JJ, take it out and stroke it…please!” Ginny begged. “Oooo, I can just see it!”

“No! The door’s unlocked and I don’t need to surprise anybody walking in,” I objected. This was getting weird. I’d done phone sex before but was now in danger once again of playing into Ginny’s demanding hands, possibly with very embarrassing consequences.

“My robe’s open, JJ. I’m rubbing my pussy. God, I’m so wet! Mmm, I haven’t showered…I smell so dirty…I taste so…good,” she murmured thickly, as I heard her licking her fingers. “Can you see me doing myself, JJ?” her voice smooth as velvet.

“God, Ginny, don’t…” I pleaded.

“I want you to hear my pussy…listen,” she whispered salaciously.

I distinctly heard her labia smacking as she held the handset close to her snatch. Over and over I detected the soft, liquid, lapping sounds of her inner lips being probed by her insistent fingers. I imagined that magnificently hot, gooey, orifice growing inflamed as she humped her hand in a practiced fashion.

“Wait a sec, JJ,” Ginny gasped quickly, putting down the phone. I hadn’t heard a doorbell, so assumed it was for some reason other than receiving a visitor. I heard a rustling sound, then water running for a minute, and she returned to the phone.

“I had to get something,” she panted.

“What?” I asked.

“A helper,” Ginny giggled. “A big, fat, juicy cucumber. I had to warm it up under the tap,” she confessed. “Now I’m gonna’ sit on the bar stool and fuck myself with it. With you 25 miles away, it’s gonna’ have to do. You know I’ve got a vivid imagination!”

What could I say? I listened — curious — breathing heavily into the phone as the lusty girl began pleasuring herself.

“Now just go along with me, JJ, okay?,” Ginny murmured. “Ooooh, you’re so hard, so thick, rubbing your big cock up and down my slit. Mmm, yeah, I’m getting all hot and juicy again. Ooooh, yeah… yeah…oooh, you’re all the way inside, JJ…can you feel me?” she asked, hoping I was still along for the ride.

Impotently, Ankara travesti I mumbled, “Yeah, sweetness, I’m with you,” feeling myself succumb again to her lust. My cock, by this time, was painfully erect in my pants.

“Then talk dirty to me, like you did yesterday, re…mem…ber?” she asked haltingly.

Yielding to the moment, I said, “Okay, honey. Turn the stool around, lean back against the counter. There is a counter, right?” I questioned, softly, helping her manufacture the fantasy.

“Mmm-hmmmm,” she acknowledged.

Putting on my most seductive phone voice, I directed her: “Now…put one foot on the rung of the bar stool. Rub your hand all over your pussy…lightly…and your clit. Spread your other leg really wide and pull it up. Rest your heel on the seat. Comfortable?”

She groaned affirmatively.

I continued. “Now imagine I’m standing in front of you…and we’re fucking. I’m doing you slowly, turning my cock in circles inside you. Make sure you rub your clit each time I push in! That’s it. Oh, yeah…yeah. Feels good, huh!”

“Oh, God, JJ, it DOES feel good, God you’re so good. You’re a genius. God…damn you’re good!” she exclaimed, breathlessly.

“Yeah, talk to me, baby. Feel me fuck you,” I urged. “Ahh, God, you’re incredible! Your hot cunt is gonna’ milk the cum right out of me. Ooo, you’re so tight! Uh, feel my big cock hit bottom, Ginny? Feel the head bang into you? Huh? Feel it pull the love juice out of you? Feel it touch all those ridges inside your cunt? Huh?” I asked, picturing her plunge that green cucumber in and out of her tasty vagina.

“Ohhh, Daddyyyy,” she whined.

“Yeah, baby, we’re fucking,” I continued. “It’s so good. Mmmm, it’s always good. Now I’m rubbing your clit real fast. You’re gonna’ cum, Ginny. You’re gonna’ cum!” She was now breathing hard into the phone; deep, racking breaths that bespoke her bestial hunger.

I continued my obscene invocation: “Yeah, sweet Ginny, I’m really doing you fast now. Mmm, yeah, feel that first wave? Feel the tingles? Oh, God, you’re SO wet! Mmmm, feel that surge? Feel that heat move up your body? Oooh, I’m really pounding you now, baby. Pinch your nipples…I’m biting them, softly, now harder! God, your pussy is so hot…your titties are all flushed…nipples so hard. Your eyes are closed, aren’t they. You’re so fucking wet! You wanta’ feel my hot cum splash into you? I’m gonna’ fill you up! Mmm, here comes that next surge in you, sweetie! Stick your tongue in my mouth! Ahhh, you taste good! Oh, yeah, yeah, now you’re gonna’ cum! I feel your pussy tightening…I see your toes are curling, baby! Yeah…yeah. Now CUM! Cum, sweetie! Cum all over me! CUM NOW!

Ginny’s cries began scorching the phone line. “Oh, shit, JJ, I…I…cumming! Cu’ing! Oh, fuck, oh please CUM’ WI’ ME! Oh…Jaay-Jaaaay! Oohh…oooooo…ahh…nnngh…anngggh…mmmm. Ahhhmmm, JJ.”

Wow! I thought, mopping my feverish brow. That wasn’t easy!, except for how eagerly I’d been her willing pawn. Our telephone quickie had left me breathless…and somewhat embarrassed.

“Ohhh, JJ, that was won…derful,” Ginny keened, gasping. “Oooh, I need you here to hug me in your arms. God, I need to taste your kisses. I need your warmth…your big body…your pro…tection…ohhh.”

Protection? I thought to myself. What could that possibly mean? Better to file it away. I pictured her limp little body, relaxed in its post-climactic torpor, and began talking her down. “Mmm, baby, I wanta’ be there, holding you, ‘cuz I know how you feel right now. So soft, so loving, so…languid.” Languid! Does she know what that means?, I asked myself. Forget it, you ponderous prick, it’s time to lighten the mood.

Spouting a little humor, I demanded: “Now, woman, fix me lunch! I want a cucumber salad! With your special dressing!”

Ginny giggled for several seconds. “Oh, JJ, you’re impossible! You’ve got a quip for everything! Don’t ever change your hokey wit!”

“I’m a little long in the tooth to change, sugar,” I said, as I looked down at the wet spot on my pants, just at the tip of my flagging erection. “Now, can we talk about next week? How’s Tuesday for lunch? Will you be giving skating lessons at the ice rink?”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “But today’s Thursday, JJ. I can’t wait ‘til then.”

“Sure you can. Meet me at the office. Got a big weekend planned?” I queried.

“Oh, Friday Mike’s coming over and we’re renting a movie,” she groaned. “Saturday night there’s a party, with hundreds of his closest friends.”

“Well, honey, remember that I’m thinking of you, and have a stupendous weekend!” I said, patronizingly. “By the way, park in a company spot in the underground garage. That way you won’t get a ticket. I’ve really gotta’ go now! Okay? See you Tuesday!”

“JJ? I…I…oh, nothing…” Ginny said, her voice dissolving in a deep sigh.

“Later, babe,” I said, signing off.

Whew! There’s something worth remembering, I mused. You dog! What a manipulative power freak! Though for the rest of day I wondered which of us had been Konya travesti in control.

Ginny called Friday but I was out and missed her. Saturday morning found me in the office with the staff. We worked in the photo studio all day and delivered our drawings and renderings to the client at the end of the day. Saturday night wife Lee and I had a quiet dinner, with some good wine, and turned in after catching a TV movie.

Sunday dawned a beautiful, warm, morning and I repaired to the backyard to finish a privacy fence along the rear of the property. Later in the morning Lee came out and said she’d gotten a frantic call from her son Mike. Apparently, he and Ginny had gone to their party the night before, drank a whole lot, did some recreational drugs, and Ginny had flirted openly with a man who “had to be at least 40,” according to Mike. He was beside himself since “she’d been all over the guy.” I asked how it had ended and Lee said that Mike had left, waited in the car, and Ginny had come out about an hour later to go home. They weren’t talking. Lee suggested that they come over to our place so we could help smooth things over. Mike was embarrassed and hesitant, but Ginny was all for it.

Jesus! I thought, I can’t say anything to them without Ginny seeing me as the rank hypocrite that I am. Here I am on my fourth marriage, balls-deep into an illicit relationship with my stepson’s intended, and now I’ve got to project the image of a sage. Think! The safe thing is to remain quiet when they’re together, and only offer advice when I’m able to speak to each kid alone.

Back to the fence. Physical work will help clear my head, I thought. Right.

An hour later the labor was beginning to tell. I was shirtless, with a bandana tied around my head to keep the copious sweat out of my eyes, and mindlessly nailing eight-foot planks, when I looked up to see Ginny staring at me from several feet away with a hint of a smile. “How long have you been standing there?” I asked, pausing to swill some water from a gallon jug.

“Oh, a few minutes,” she admitted, idly scratching an itch high on her right thigh. She was a vision of feminine health, dressed in tight, “Daisy Duke” cutoff jeans that accented her creamy, ice skater’s thighs, and a thin, sleeveless, burgundy paisley cotton top that flattered her soft, high, 34 B breasts. Her eye makeup, as always, was flawless…this time in brown tones. Her light blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, enhancing her youthful appearance, and the dozen freckles on her nose made my heart skip a beat. Her white sneakers were offset by thin, white sox that had little brown scalloped ruffles around their short tops. She had petite gold hoops in her earlobes. She could have been a high school cheerleader, except that my memories of her phenomenally skilled body – from just a few days before – belied that image.

My groin felt its first sexual throb of the day. She noticed the effect she had on me and — strutting toward me with her hands clasped behind her, hips swinging seductively — she stopped no more than three inches from my dripping frame. Tipping her face up to me and audibly breathing in my scent, she murmured: “You look like a huge, Viking, hippie.”

“Yeah, Thor with his hammer, right?,” I cracked.

“Mmmm, what a magnificent hammer,” she cooed. “Will you nail me?” she asked playfully, moving her uplifted face from one side of my chest and neck to the other, sniffing all the while. Then she lightly kissed my upper chest repeatedly, just below my clavicle, sucking beads of perspiration into her mouth, still with her hands behind her.

“God, you taste delicious!” On tiptoe, she whispered into my ear, “Let’s fuck, you outrageous animal!” bathing me with her hot, sweet breath and lavishing me with her satiny lips, like so many butterfly wings.

My desire went from zero to excruciating in about 3.5 seconds. Flashes of lusty heat coursed to my crotch. The knees went weak, threatening to buckle. My cock spasmed with each of her kisses. At that moment I honestly felt that it’d been years since I’d been so excited. So, like the cautious fool that I am I stepped back…searching for words.

“Shit! Where’s Lee?” I asked.

“In the house, talking with Mike,” she said. “She told me to come out and talk with you while you worked. So…?”

We were some distance from the house, and were shielded from it by the nearly-completed fence. An open field faced us on our side. No onlookers, so far as I could tell. “Umm, let’s sit down in the shade,” I said, nodding to a tree some twenty feet away. Ginny sat against the tree trunk, facing away from the house, and I claimed a spot at a discreet distance, facing her so that I could see anyone coming around the fence. “Lee says she got a panicky call from Mike this morning. About the party. Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.

“There’s nothing to tell, JJ,” she responded softly. “I was so lonely for you since we did our…you know…our phone thing on Thursday, and I was frantic when I couldn’t İzmir travesti reach you on Friday. The party last night was such a bore, with all those young guys having chug-a-lug contests, so when this older man, Craig, started paying attention to me, it felt good,” Ginny explained.

“Well, it’s none of my business what you do, but I can see why Mike might not understand,” I said. “You are going to be married, you know.”

“Nothing happened, JJ! Craig and I danced, nuzzled a little bit, he tried to kiss me goodnight later – he smelled bad — and I went home with Mike. Mike’s friends are a drag. If it’s not skiing or motorcycling or fishing, it doesn’t interest them! I was on my own for a year touring with the ice show. I had plenty of guys, and not one ever interested me as much as you, and I’ve known you less than a week!” Ginny stated. “It’s as if Mike wants me as a trophy!” she flashed, angrily. “Well, that’s just too limiting, too confining, too stul…stulti…”

“Stultifying?” I interrupted.

“Yes! Stultifying! With you I feel like an adult, a very desirable adult. Someone who’s

appreciated. God, when we make love…” she stopped, “when we fuck, I feel like I’m liberated from an existence that’s deadly dull! And…” she paused, “I can never remember being so turned on!”

“I’m very flattered,” I confessed.

“You should be” Ginny said. “I’m very discriminating. And part of my feeling is because I know what I do for you. Last Wednesday I saw your incredible intensity — your deep, festering cynicism — melt when you held me. You were so vulnerable! I wanted to weep when I came with you! I could easily become addicted to that.”

“Wow, girl,” I blanched. “Enough confessions, okay? Let’s process all this and – on Tuesday in the cold light of another day – we’ll continue our talk.”

“Alright,” she countered, “but enough of the innocent little Ginny who’s so scattered she doesn’t know where she’s going or what she’s doing! Then, softly, she said, “I want to have a baby. Mike happens to be a nice guy who I think will make a good father. And I choose you to help me smooth over the rough spots… . Simple! Now can we fuck, Daddy?”

I just about shit my pants. Like me, she wants it both ways! “No, baby, it’s too dangerous here. We’ll be caught.”

“Then let’s go for a walk. You’ve got your cell phone. Call Lee and tell her we’ll be back in a while. That little grove of trees over there looks like a great spot,” Ginny suggested.

Submitting, and feeling surprised by Ginny’s display of candor and self-confidence, though a bit ruffled by her dictates, I said: “No, I’ll go back and fill the water jug and tell her. See you in a second.”

Back in the house Lee was lecturing son Mike. Grinning innocently, I apologized for interrupting — as the room went quiet — and said: “Ginny’s been helping me. We’re gonna’ take a walk break. Had to grab some water. Be back in a while.” As I left I heard Lee return to her lecture on the duties of a young husband.

Under the tree I discovered that Ginny had removed her french-cut panties and re-donned her cutoffs. She held their moist crotch under my nose and stuffed them in my pocket, mumbling: “These are my first gift to you.” I put on my shirt, to her objections, and we strolled through the waist-high grass toward the woods a short distance away with her holding the back of my shirttail.

Beneath the tree canopy Ginny was on me. Her eyes shown hungrily as she instantly unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down with my boxers. Her hot, velvety mouth enveloped my cock and I needed no further urging. I was hard to the point of bursting. I backed against a tree and surveyed the empty landscape, as she hobbled after me on her knees, slurping audibly and jerking my tool with her soft hands. “Oh, yeah, JJ, I want to drink your cum,” she gasped. “Cum quick, so I can get you hard again and fuck you…please!”

Ginny sucked me mercilessly. The day’s earlier work had coated my genitals with the slick, acrid, odorous sheen of the archetypal sweaty male. Licking my balls and between my legs, she devoured the moistness with mewling alacrity. “Mmmm, this is my JJ’s syrup,” she said to no one in particular. “You taste …divine,” she exclaimed, carefully choosing the word between thrusts of her bobbing head. “I want to mix this with your cream. Oooh, please give it to me, JJ! Give it all to me!” She planted her nose in my wet pubic batch and swallowed several times to deeply massage the glans of my penis, then pulled back to lave it, humming all the while and jacking me rapidly with both palms.

That acid taste rose in the back of my throat as I tried restraint, but I could not wait this day. I moaned each time Ginny thrust her face forward to receive me: ”Uhh…uhhh…uhhh,” I grunted, wanting to blow my load and have her swallow it all. Then doing something I very seldom do, I grabbed her exquisite blonde head in my hands and began furiously plowing her mouth. Her lovely, long jaw engulfed me completely as her lips stretched out to capture my cock.

Struggling to place her hands flat on my thighs to temper my thrusts, though trying to encourage me, she gasped her approval: “Unngh…yeah, JJ…glbb…fuck …my mouth…blkk…fuck me…in my mouth…igkk…fuck…hot mouth…lllk…cum…nnnghk…please…fill…mmguh…mouth.”

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