Virginia's Peculiar Fascination // Chapter 5

Preston went down on one knee next to the copulating couple. He rested an elbow on the coffee table and peered at Ginny while she had this young stud's cock inside her, throbbing, stroking.

"Does he feel big?"

Ginny gasped. "Oh, god, yes. Mm, yes, he's huge."

"What does it feel like?"

Carter loved Preston's dirty talk and he grunted while he fucked Ginny, caressing her back, squeezing her waist.

Ginny moaned with ecstasy, humming pain and pleasure in her throat while this young man gave it to her good. "Ah," she panted, "mm, it feels like a rolling pin, Preston. It's so huge."

"Do you like it?"

"Ah, mm, Preston, mm . . . it feels so good. Oh, it feels so big, so, so good."

"Why don't you grab his balls?"

Ginny made a funny sound of rising pleasure; like he'd been rubbing her back and found a knot that particularly irked her and his thumb pressure brought joyous relief above that of the massage. Ginny thought it was a wonderful and amazing suggestion.

He watched her face as it contorted with Carter's oversized lovemaking, her arm stretching down underneath her, going between her legs.

Preston shifted and watched his wife's clawed hand search for the swinging sack, getting on both knees and one hand. Carter slowed, looking between him and Ginny, trying to help out Ginny by plopping his heavy burden into her clutch. Ginny sighed and mewled when she felt the weight of the young man's balls settle in her grip. She held them and squeezed them, and Carter grunted and doubled over her back like she'd hurt him.

"Those are great big balls, huh?"

Ginny nodded and panted as Carter began pushing it in and out of Ginny's pink interior, still curled over Ginny's back. The condom rippled and squelched, and Ginny's pussy smacked and slurped. His wife was gushing for this young man he'd delivered to her.

He said, "Proportional?"

She chuckled despite the intensity of the encounter. "Massive," she whispered.

"And that's better?"

"I love them. I love them big."

"I've never seen bigger balls in my life. I'm in locker rooms all the time, Ginny. I've seen more balls than you could in your lifetime."

She sighed and chewed her lips a moment, handling Carte's balls while Carter buried deep into her and bucked against her bottom. "Why are you…why are you looking at balls?"

"You got me looking, Ginny. I was looking for you."

"You're such a… pervert," she gasped then groaned.

He whispered near her ear, smiling to himself, "I was scouting for my perverted wife."

Ginny uttered a sound of great offense. It was comical. Ginny on her hands and knees, totally naked in the afternoon, some super-hot young guy from the club fucking her like a dog in their sitting room—and she's offended he called her a pervert. He eyed Carter. Eyed the man who had his massive marble column planted up inside the venerable Virginia Whitmore.

"Carter, guide her up so I can see her face. I can't be down on my knees like this." His back was aching.

"Sure thing, Mr. Whitmore," Carter said, cheeks blushed, lips parted. It looked like Virginia had this kid turned on, too. Good red-blooded American kid.

"Is she tight?"

"Oh, yeah," Carter said, his tanned hands roaming Ginny's body, rubbing her shoulders, holding her in place for a moment and pulling her body and rump to his hips, getting every fat inch all the way inside Ginny til their bushes were smushed together in a bramble. Ginny mewled a high keen, and Preston watched her toes curl and her thighs tremble. Carter must have been flexing that flesh cannon inside her, getting it swollen to its maximal proportion.

"Oh, god, oh, god, Preston, oh my god, he's so massive."

"He's got it all the way in you. He touching your stomach yet?"

"Oh, mm, Preston, oh…"

Ginny panted, held her breath, gasped, panted again, her head rocking forward, her blonde hair swishing and smelling like that expensive shampoo she ordered online from Paris.

Preston struggled to one knee, the knee popping, then planted his butt on the coffee table. Carter was biting his lip as he ground his hips into Ginny's rump, pulling her body into his with his hands at her collar. He said to Ginny, "Don't tell me. Tell Carter."

Ginny whimpered, munched her lips from the inside, raisng her chin up but her eyes closed as if in erotic euphoria. "It's in my tummy," she groaned. "God, Carter. Your massive cock is stretching me out, oh god, it's in my tummy, I swear."

"You feel so fucking good, Mrs. Whitmore," Carter said, relaxing his hold on her collar, releasing the tension of his organ's deep implantation.

"Ah, ah," Preston said. "Just call her Ginny."

Ginny shook her head. She panted, gasped, muttered, "Call me Mrs. Whitmore, Carter. Call me Mrs. Whitmore again."

Carter curled over her back again, palming one of her generous hanging breasts. "You feel so good, Mrs. Whitmore."

Ginny moaned. "Dirtier. Dirtier, please, Carter."

Carter looked aside to Preston and Preston nodded.

"Your pussy's so fucking tight, Mrs. Whitmore. You're so fucking wet and so fucking tight." Carter's large hand coddled the hanging breast, and his thumb teased her plumped nipple. Preston had to adjust his pants. His cock throbbed like a struck thumb.

"Pull her up, please," he said.

Carter drew Ginny up, still inside her, his arm around her front and caressing her throat. Ginny had never looked better to him. The realization slapped him across the face with its suddenness. Ginny shone brightest in sexual fervor.

"There's a lot more to the balls thing with you, isn't there?"

"You're crazy, Preston," she said, makeup spreading, breaths sobbing in desperate heaves, "I don't know what you mean."

"Who had the balls, Ginny? Who had the balls that made you so wild?"

"Oh, Preston, you're so ridiculous."

"It wasn't dogs. Not my Ginny. Barn animals? Where did you learn you loved them when they're big and swinging?"

She smiled. Eyes closed, half of Carter's big cock in her love space, and her husband asking her the dirtiest questions. Ginny's nipples were plumper than summer berries. Carter saw him smiling and he smiled too.

Carter said, "She's not going to tell you?"

Preston said, "She's being naughty. Just hold off on giving her what she wants."

"Oh, Preston…"

Carter whispered in her ear, "Sorry, Mrs. Whitmore. Mr. Whitmore won't let me."

Ginny's eyes opened and she narrowed them in the cutest surly manner. "I never knew my husband was such a jealous man."

He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. "Is the scientist jealous of the thing he watches through a microscope?"

Ginny grunted with disgust. "I'm a thing?"

"Ginny, you know you're the only thing. The only thing."

She groaned and cocked her head against Carter's hard cheek. Reluctance was flagging and Preston sensed she would tell him.

Carter's two big good-looking hands swept up Ginny's soft tummy and helped themselves to Ginny's healthy bosom, her ample breasts heavy and wonderful, creamy flesh pressing under Carter's tanned fingers. Ginny uttered a quavering moan that delighted Preston and rendered him lightheaded.

He steadied himself with a hand on the coffee table. "It's not just the balls, Ginny. Am I right? It's their bounty?"

Another quavering moan from his beautiful, sweet wife. He flooded his drawers with pure sexual excitement. He muttered, "You like what they contain." His voice was dry and papery.

"Preston, you're dis-gusting," she said, scolding him. Scolding him yet still writhing her back to Carter's front, trying to get that huge implement of Carter's to slip a little deeper inside her where she liked it. A young man's hands coddling her breasts, her nipples over-ripe and shining with the skin's tautness…

"That's it, Ginny," he said, smiling, his voice returning. He knee-walked a little closer, face to face with her. She tried so hard to hide her smile. His hand went down her front, starting at the delightful swell under her navel, down to where she was soaking wet and spread wide. He rooted out her bursting button and teased it, and Ginny's rapturous eyes turned up to the ceiling where the two-men pleasure sent her looking for angels in their cloudy seraphic court.

"You want to watch young Carter come, don't you, Gin? You dirty thing. You want to see his volume?"

"Preston!"

This empty retort came whisking from her sex-fattened lips, an airy gasp as if sung from the mouth of the angels she sought.

"You want to watch this nice young man ejaculate."

Ginny whimpered and bit her lower lip. Preston chin-nodded to Carter, indicating the young man should give Mrs. Whitmore a little more of what she liked. The young man complied and rocked his hips, giving Ginny some big-dick motion of the ocean. Ginny squealed. Carter's heavy sack swung backward and forward between Ginny's creamy thighs.

"So, where do you want it, Ginny?"

"Oh, Preston!" A breathy condemnation.

"Tell me where you want it, Gin. On your back, on your front, in your face—”

"No!"

"Then where, Gin?"

Another chin nod to Carter had the young man holding back, building up Ginny's obvious need. She whimpered and babbled complaint, her pretty face contorted with disappointment. Preston took her chin and guided her to look up. He waited for her eyes to open before saying, "Just tell me where, Ginny."

His wife—who he'd know for the longest time and who'd had his back through their family's greatest struggles and who'd raised two of the best kids a man could ask for—stared back at him, those navy-blues searching for meaning, searching for intent. Her eyes were wondrous and complimentary. He'd given her something a woman could never ask her husband for. A good husband would have to suss it out for themselves. And what men out there for Ginny would ever have her back as well as she'd had his? They were meant for each other forever.

"My front," she whispered.

"Yeah?" He let go her chin, smiling, loving this new openness. Even though she'd submitted to his big-balled gift delivery in no time flat, she'd still held up some shields. No shields needed between Ginny and Preston Whitmore. The mere suggestion was an insult. And now he saw Ginny loosening up, ready to divulge more.

He said, "On your tum?" His knuckle dragged a circle around her navel, his hand slick with her wetness.

"Yeah," she said, nodding, her narrowed eyes showing a wet and dreamy gleam. "On my…"

"Say it, Gin."

"On my… tits."

"Oh, you're a bad girl," he said with humorous condemnation, and his wife moaned with the admission of pure bedeviling perversion. He would tease her with to the end of their days together and he couldn't wait. "Carter, do you think you could do that?" He spoke to Carter but his eyes stayed on Ginny's, the two of them marveling at each other's secret but mutual depravity.

"Yeah," Carter said, stammering, his voice breathy.

"I think he can do it, Gin," Preston said.

"I can do it," Carter said.

Preston and Ginny smiled at each other, enjoying their young friend's innocent eagerness to please.

Preston said, "We'll have to get her on her back, Carter."

Carter said, "On the couch?"

"On the couch? Well, how's your aim, Carter?"

"Sir?"

Ginny said, "It's damask, Carter."

"The couch fabric, Carter," Preston explained. "Very expensive. Gin would blow her top if you dropped splooge on her damask. Let's lay her out on the coffee table. How about that?"

Gin nodded, woozy, letting Preston take her arms and help her up. Carter stood up as well and Preston got a good look at his fully engorged size. The kid had a real flesh monster swinging down there; it was long and far too thick, the condom pinched it in the middle and left a dent. "Carter, grab that peshtemal off the back of the slipper chair."

While Carter fumbled around naked, trying to decipher the last instruction, Preston regarded his wife, held in his arms. She still looked at him with strange admiration.

"We'll get you on your back in just a second, Gin. Can you hang in there?"

She felt absolutely amazing in his arms; all smooth naked flesh, her rare beauty shining through this midday degradation—resilience. Virginia Whitmore was a special woman.

She sighed, touched his face, looking in his eyes. "Preston, would you ask Carter to take off his condom?"