Virginia's Peculiar Fascination: Chapter 6

Preston chuckled and stepped back, eyeing her up and down, brows knitted. Virginia didn’t look embarrassed or show any sign she might think this was asking too much. This newfound bravado excited him. Ginny requesting this young man remove his condom before they continue sent his lust into the stratosphere. Ginny taking control. Ginny not the subject under a microscope.

“Awfully bold, Ginny. You sure that’s a good idea?”

Ginny’s expression stayed playful, but her posture assumed a more confident uprightness. “Preston, in all the years I’ve been lucky enough to know you, have you ever not thought of everything?”

“What are you saying?”

“Carter wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t made sure he had a clean bill of health.”

He smiled and then winked. “HIPAA violations, Ginny,” hoping she would know not to say more, given the manner in which he found out Carter’s health status. He’d played golf with Carter Maddox’s doctor every Saturday for thirteen years.

“You always think of everything,” she said, practically purring.

There was no greater delight in his life than pleasing his Virginia. He held her, and they both regarded Carter, standing a little unsure, but knowing he wanted to continue with the action. He held his enormous manhood to one side over his leg, those oversized plums hanging down mid-thigh.

“It’s up to Carter now,” Preston said.

Ginny left his arms and crossed naked to Carter, slinking right up against him, her hands taking up his huge tool, her face tilting up to his. “Do you think it’s all right if we abandon the condom, Carter?”

This act of wifely seduction meant to compel such a depraved and immoral experience provided Preston with profound and otherworldly excitement.

“Yeah,” Carter said, agreeing with restrained enthusiasm, not wanting to gush, but Ginny had just suggested the one thing young men dream of. “Yeah, for sure.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Ginny said, looking down as she began to tug and peel up the condom. “I want to feel what it’s like to have your naked cock inside me. It’s going to feel so incredible.”

“Yeah. Yeah, for sure. It’s going to feel amazing, Mrs. Whitmore.”

Ginny’s eyes were down-turned, her two hands stroking and playing with Carter’s equipment. Preston urged them into motion. “Ginny, come rest your back on the table here.” He spread out the peshtemal himself since Carter never figured out what he’d meant.

Ginny lured Carter with her, walking backward and stroking Carter’s big dick. She sat on the peshtemal, eyes turned up with sexual need to Carter, one hand holding his dong, the other coddling his testicles. With a little more fondling she’d turned Carter’s gaze into a singularly focused sexual stare. A flesh golem intent on sinking deep into Ginny and then showing her his proud ejaculation. Ginny lay back, putting her arms over her head, submitting herself wholly to the well-endowed young man her husband had brought home.

Preston took the opportunity with an unexpected action, taking his spot on the opposite end of the table from Carter and holding Ginny’s arms out. She clutched his elbows, preparing for a mighty, unprotected penetration. With her legs splayed out and accepting, Carter assumed his position between her thighs, hands on the table, getting over top of her. His big, thick and veiny cock looked frightening on the smooth feminine plain of Ginny’s stomach.

Ginny looked down at it. It looked back at her, one lone and kind eye staring dumbly from its fat purple-gray head. She said, “Do you come a lot?”

“Probably every day,” Carter said.

“Volume, not frequency, Carter,” Preston said, thumbing Gin’s elbows.

Carter looked embarrassed, but then nodded. “Yeah, a lot.”

Preston felt Ginny tremble at the thought.

“You like that, Ginny?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, her voice rushed and whisking, wanting to get fucked, wanting to see this hot young stud blow his load all over her. “Do you… Do you shoot it far?”

“Sometimes,” Carter said, taking his cock in one hand and thumbing its long lever down so the head nestled in Ginny’s wet, pink stripe. With it situated in place, he supported his weight over Ginny on two hands again, looking in her eyes. “Today I will. I’m so crazy turned on.”

Ginny trembled again. “Me too,” she whispered.

It was one thing to bring home a man for your wife to fuck—but it was another thing, and very special, when your wife liked the man. And Ginny liked Carter in all the right ways. He’d done a good job bringing Carter home for Ginny as a surprise.

Carter eased his cock into Ginny again. Naked this time. Ginny mewled with unambiguous delight. Carter’s bare cock skin sliding on her sexual membranes had her eyes rolling back and her eyelashes fluttering. Carter sawed in and out, nice and slow, and Ginny uttered more sounds of sexual ecstasy. Preston’s whole core had tightened like a cable pulled taut. 

Carter sawed in and out. Carter then withdrew and slid his enormous phallus up and down Ginny’s shining pussy, its wide belly riding over top of her clitoris and driving her wild. Both he and Ginny watched that shining purple helmet, thinking it would shoot its white bounty, but then Carter would slide it back inside Ginny and start it all over. Carter had Ginny panting, muttering, thrashing. Her whole body shone with excitement.

Every time Carter pulled it out, Ginny would watch with bated breath, waiting for that lone eye to swell and spread apart the cockhead’s cleavage and launch what she wanted most in the world (for this afternoon at least). Ginny wanted a show. Ginny wanted an explosion.

He kissed her mouth upside down just from overflowing love and happiness and pure pleasure. She kissed him in return but encouraged him to clear her view. She didn’t want to miss it when it happened.

But he did.

Not miss it so much as not be in the line of fire. So he kissed Ginny’s cheek and forehead, backed away, and moved to the side. 

Now it was just Carter and Virginia working together. Virginia’s hands went to Carter’s forearms. Her knees rose higher, and her feet bobbed with Carter’s thrusts.

He pulled his cock out one more time, and it wagged up and down like he was flexing it. They both thought it would go off, but he sunk it into Ginny again. This time she bawled with enchanted aggravation. Hot and bothered and looking for come. Wanting this young man’s seed to splash all over her beautiful breasts.

Preston placed a Venetian pillow from the couch under her head and shoulders so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck when the moment came. It pleased her.

And at last, Carter began to grunt and peck and make the sounds of a man on the verge of orgasm. Ginny encouraged him with affirmative girlish utterances, reminding the young man how much she wanted to watch him unleash all over her with explosive ejaculations.

This time when the monumental erection appeared, it looked plumped to its maximum, its back almost arched. It twitched and bobbed again, shining with Ginny’s wetness. For an endless second, nothing happened.

Then it exploded with an audible squirt. A thick, wriggling rope launched from the tip and passed over Ginny’s head. Lucky thing he’d moved. Ginny squealed with tortured delight, watching and watching, waiting to see his propulsion and his volume. And the young man delivered. More streams began to jolt and jag from the fat, bouncing thing. All over Ginny’s tits, just like she’d wanted. Carter’s come splashed her chest. Both breasts. One direct hit on Gin’s plumped-up nipple made her gasp and moan. The spurts waned, getting weaker, before two more good blasts painted her sternum and above her navel. Carter roared and grunted and gagged as his huge orgasm ripped through him and “Mrs. Whitmore” encouraged more and delighted in every drop he delivered.

Carter drooped over Gin, and Gin looked down at how Carter had painted her with a good and even first coat, frosting her tits and her belly, and even up to her collar. He heaved for breath, thumbing his massive organ so it wiped over Ginny’s pussy like a wiper blade, smearing his semen over her sex. He pushed it back inside her, coated with his DNA, fucked her a little, pulled the heavy thing out and plopped it on her mound. More semen pulsed from his tip.

Ginny was silent. Preston had expected more joyous celebration from his wife, given her awful admissions of how this sort of vulgarity turned her on. 

It wasn’t silence. It was an orgasm. Ginny was coming hard, riding some orgasmic wave with her eyes barely open, her thighs shaking, her tummy fluttering, painted white by the club’s summer tennis pro. It shocked him how the sight pleased him so well.

Carter panted, watching Gin, knowing this MILF was still coming from his fireworks show, mouth agape, eyes bewildered.

Every time Preston thought she’d come out of it, another shockwave would shake her terrain, and she would shiver and bite her lips, whimper. Preston’s own excitement stained the front of his slacks.

Carter retreated, eyes glued to Ginny’s convulsing, orgasmic body, totally naked on the peshtemal on the coffee table. There was come on the table, on the peshtemal, the Venetian pillow, and on the floor. His deflating cock swung heavy between his long thighs.

Ginny’s eyes fluttered, and her breaths slowed and deepened. She began to come-to, looking around. Some of the demureness returned, and she sought to cover her nakedness. She sat up, arms over her breasts, slipping over the come-soaked skin. No one said a thing.

She exhaled, sniffed, blinked. She looked down at her chest and stomach. “I'd better… I'd better get cleaned up.”

Carter looked wowed that he had rendered such a fine female specimen so stupefied. It was the sort of accomplishment where, under different circumstances, Preston might have given Carter a hearty pat on the back.

When Ginny tried to stand, she failed. Preston stepped in and helped her to her feet. She muttered, “Let me, uh, let me make myself, uh, more uh…”

“Presentable,” Preston said, walking her to the bottom of the hallway stairs.

She thanked him for his help and staggered her way up the stairs, leaning on the handrail. Preston watched her go, smiling and awestruck.

When Preston returned to the sitting room, Carter was collecting his things. Preston passed him and went to the wet bar and washed his hands. He dried his hands on the towel, watching Carter put a long leg into his pants.

He said, “I guess sweatpants would have been easier.”

Carter pulled his pants up, and Preston came around the bar. There was a size sticker on the pants Carter had missed. Preston peeled it off for him before he tightened his belt.

Carter said, “Thanks, Mr. Whitmore.”

“You can grab your cocktail on the bar there and head to the pool if you like.” He tapped the still-sticky sticker to Carter’s bare chest, where it stayed. “If you don’t mind, we have a shower by the cabana—you’ll see it. Give yourself a wash first. Ginny and I’ll be back down in a minute.”

Carter plucked off the sticker and stuffed it into his pocket. “Oh, uh, I have to drive into Charlotte and get some things. It’s my sister’s birthday tonight, and I have to go visit her.”

“When are you heading to Italy?”

“Tuesday.” Carter shrugged on his shirt and straightened it.

They stood for a moment, hands in pockets and nodding. Preston shook Carter’s hand. “Well, thanks for coming by. I think things worked out really well.”

Carter chuckled, more relaxed. He rubbed his neck like a sheepish schoolboy. He said, “Now I wish I weren’t going to Italy.”

They both chuckled politely.

Carter nodded, asking Preston to say goodbye to Ginny for him. Preston said he would. Preston walked him to the door.

Carter said farewell, departed, but turned on the front stoop. “Maybe when I come back from Italy, I can give you guys a call?”

“Yes. You can if you like, Carter. Take care.”

Carter nodded, said bye again, walked away and then Columbo-turned, adding one more thing: “Would it be cool if I friended you guys on social media?”