Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, BiSexual, True Story, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, .
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - This is my second story and it's true. A vividly wild night with Ginger leads to an even wilder time a night or so later. MF MF FF MFF
Bruno was about twenty, perhaps a bit older. He was a good-looking man, clean-shaven with dark, styled hair covering his ears. You've seen faces like his before on a million cigarette billboards. The outdoor type who like to smoke and don't give a damn who disagrees. But Bruno doesn't smoke, his uncle who lived with him did and Bruno had watched the day to day pain and anguish he suffered as the cancer ravaged his body. No, Bruno would never smoke another cigarette.
It was a typical Friday evening for him, nothing special, just a couple drinks at Ira's Manhattan Lounge after work to kill time and avoid going home to the empty apartment that still reeked of his uncle's cigarette's and the odor the dying seem to leave behind.
It was now twenty after seven and most of Ira's clientele had vanished into the bowels of the city, chasing after the rush hour crowd. Bruno threw down a decent tip for the bartender and strode quickly towards the door to catch up with a couple regulars whose names he'd never known. They had been playing dollar bill poker and had some of Bruno's money in their pockets.
"Where 'a you guys headed?" He asked, as they all stepped out into the humid mugginess Manhattan acquires during the dog days of August.
The taller one with the bony, emaciated face replied, "Down the Village," not bothering to look at Bruno, just staring vacantly down a deserted Chambers Street.
This piqued Bruno somewhat since it was in the opposite direction of their stated destination, and he wondered if they were bullshitting him. But Bruno followed the tall one's eyes and realized he was staring at a dead pigeon lying on the curb, half-emersed in a mound of day old horse shit. A typical New York street scene of that period.
"Yeah," the shorter of the two added, sounding more friendly while blinking his left eye furiously, as if a spec of soot was dancing a rumba in it. "Gonna grab us some food, have a coupla drinks, who knows? Wanna join us?
"Yeah, sounds good to me," Bruno replied, and found himself suddenly blinking his eye too. "Shit! I gotta cinder in my eye," he said quickly not wanting to offend the guy offering to let him join them.
"Yew all right?" the tall one asked.
"Yeah, be fine in a second," he replied wiping his eye with a handkerchief and was relieved as the cinder floated away on a tear. Somewhat startled by this good fortune, Bruno looked up through teary eyes and spotted a taxi headed towards them. He put two fingers to his mouth and whistled a piercing blast that caught the driver's attention and the cab pulled up to the curb beside them.
"Where to?" asked the driver.
"O'Henry's down the Village," the shorter one said brusquely, still blinking, but not wiping his eye.
Bruno spoke to the short guy. "You get a cinder in your eye too?"
He was surprised when the taller one answered his question. "No he's gotta tick, ya know? Kind of... a nervous tick. Picked it up over in 'Nam.' "
He laughed as if at a private joke, then decided to share it with Bruno.
"Hah," he continued laughing without smiling. "That ain't the only thing he picked up over there, hah, hah, hah. See, he was a body bagger. Yeah! Ha, ha. The Cong killed 'em, and he bagged 'em."
Bruno didn't think it funny at all. He'd lost a few friends in 'Nam and had had several close calls while in the Delta area himself. He noted the short guy shoot a disdainful look at the tall one; and suddenly the blinking stopped. He turned to Bruno as if no one had spoken since hailing the cab and matter of factly stated: "They got the best hamburgers in town. And you gotta see the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. Unbelievable!" He giggled.
'A giggler, ' Bruno thought, 'oh well, I could be home pulling my pudding in an empty apartment.' Meanwhile, the cab raced the dozen or so blocks to the Village without encountering much traffic and dropped the trio off at the restaurant's entrance.
Bruno looked around. O'Henry's was on the corner of a worn down cobbled street. But O'Henry's itself was not deteriorated, although the surrounding buildings were. He felt he was looking at a grotesque mockery of modern architecture just standing there in the shimmering heat.
A cursory glance was all Bruno needed to see that the neighboring buildings were decrepit and rotting away to the point of collapsing upon one another. Even the sidewalk was uneven and slippery. Wet garbage littered the curbside adjacent to both sides of the restaurant. A fetid odor seeped from the walls and wafted up to Bruno's nose. He discovered it came from a mildewed mattress in the alley across the street. A drunken wino sprawled upon it, wearing an army overcoat in the 102-degree heat. Next to the alley was an X-rated theatre featuring "Deep Throat."
Deciding O'Henry's was safe enough to enter, Bruno followed the others inside. O'Henry's was vintage Greenwich Village. Standing at the confluence of a hundred crooked streets that seemingly led nowhere, it epitomized the Village. It had a huge interior, with big, smoke filled rafters and seethed with activity, reeking of pungent tobacco and commingled odors of good food being rushed from the kitchen. Bruno gawked at the rowdy crowd, packed three-deep at the bar, hollering at one another as if at a sporting event.
Just then a haughty waitress made her way over to them and brusquely informed them there were no empty tables for at least the next two hours. The trio nodded solemnly at her and prepared to leave. Bruno took a last glance around the place and was startled to see huge, thick, dusty cobwebs drooping at least four feet from the ceiling, seemingly defying gravity. Then he looked to his left and saw the long line of men and women sitting and standing at the bar and tables, lustily jawing juicy chops, porterhouse steaks, kidneys, mountains of oysters, and sweetbreads; quenching them with an assortment of beer, martini's, bourbon and rye. Every table was covered with food, drink and in most instances, a chessboard with an active game sat precariously near the edge as onlookers leaned close, kibitzing about each move, whether welcomed or not. He made a mental note to return on his own one day, just to sample the inviting atmosphere O'Henry's offered.
The short one giggled again and jabbed Bruno in the side with his elbow. "You ever seen anything like dat?" He asked, indicating the cobwebs overhead and without waiting for an answer took it upon himself to enlighten Bruno. "The City inspectors come in here at least once a month. I dunno if they pay 'em off, or if it's somehow legal, but it's been this way forever, man."
"Hell," Bruno said with a grimace on his face and trying to wipe away the smoke from a nearby cigar, "they're playing chess at more than half the tables. They'll be at it longer than any two fuckin' hours."
"Fuck it, " the tall one said laconically, his face down, involved in the ritual of lighting a cigarette. "Let's hit another joint."
The short one was quick to agree. Bruno followed, shoving his way through the crowd to the hot, steamy street outside. Four doors down the street was a place named Maude's. It was another lounge and not quite as crowded. Here the revelers were only two deep at the bar and there were several tables available. The group were seated and placed their orders quickly. Almost mimicking the classic John Belushi Saturday Night Live skit.
There were also fries all around and a Heinekens for Bruno. The others went for Budweiser's. Bruno found the service prompt and efficient.
"Hey," the taller one said, lifting his glass in an informal salute, "ain't nothin' like a Bud."
"Mmmmmm," said the short one.
Bruno licked some foam off his lips, but said nothing. As they wolfed down their burgers they all began scanning the crowd. The short one drew their attention to a young brunette.
"Look'it the ass on that one in the green dress!" He said, almost in awe. "Oh, Christ, I'd eat that out in a minute." This was uttered somewhat wistfully.
Bruno looked at her. He had only been with three women sexually and regretted that he had never gone down on one. After gazing at the woman's luscious rear end, he longed even more for an opportunity to do so. Tearing his eyes from her, he found several other above average women at the bar, but all appeared to be spoken for. He steeled himself for another disappointing night, stabbed another french-fry from his plate and chewed it vigorously.
The tall one shook a cigarette from of a pack of Camels and went through the macho ritual of lighting it as a very good-looking girl sauntered towards them from the deeper recesses of the bar. She was wearing a tight dress with a scoop top that seemed to be struggling to contain her breasts, which were bra-less. Bruno was impressed with her body and as she was about to pass their table Bruno was stunned when the taller one rose up and greeted her by name.
"Ginger! Hey Ginger!" He called out.
It was evident she recognized him although Bruno thought he detected a slight grimace on her face, indicating the tall one was not a welcome sight.
"Oh, hello Charlton," she said softly, extending her hand in greeting.
Bruno had time to study her while Charlton was distracting her. He took in the shoulder-length, artfully tousled, dirty blonde hair, framing a face with high cheekbones. He took in a pair of luminous gray eyes and a perfect narrow nose. The only break in the perfection was a slight over bite and pouty lower lip, but that only added to her appeal.
He decided her mouth was made for uninhibited love. His eyes wandered over the tight, short dress that accentuated her long, shapely legs, her lean waist and her high, full breasts.
Bruno was reeled back to reality when, rather than accepting her hand, Charlton reached towards her nipples and halting just short of contact, began braying in a falsetto voice.
"Come in Station TEAT, Do you read me? Come in Station TEAT."
Ginger froze, except for a crimson blush that must have started at her toes and now spread across her face. The short one was smiling as he took a swig of his beer. He'd seen this performance before.
Charlton looked at Bruno, nodded in Ginger's direction and said, " We went to high school together," as if that explained his gross actions.
Standing abruptly and knocking over his beer in the process, Bruno flipped a french-fry at Charlton's chest and tersely replied, "I don't care where you know the lady from, you're out of line."
Moving in so close to Charlton, he could discern the many blackheads on his nose, Bruno warned him, "Knock it off or I'll make mush out of your fuckin' nose."
Shaken by the threat, Charlton backed away, lost his balance and sat down on the corner of the table in the middle of a pool of spilled beer. The short one found this funny enough that Bruno dismissed him as a potential second threat.
Still laughing, the short one said, "Come on Charlton, ole buddy, let's get the fuck outta here before he cleans your clock for you."
Charlton roughly pulled his arm away from his friend and glowered at Bruno. And the still bemused short one finished his beer, and put his arm around Charlton's shoulder while maneuvering him towards the exit. "Hey, come on now, how many times I gotta tell you not to fuck wit the ladies?"
They left without another word and the rest of the bar crowd turned away resuming their interrupted conversations.
"I'm sorry I let him get that far," Bruno said, hating himself because she'd caught him staring at her breasts.
In all fairness to Bruno, as Ginger gasped first from fright and then from the chivalrous manner in which this stranger told that creep off, her lungs were taking in large amounts of air. Ginger seemed to take no offense at Bruno's staring. Actually, Ginger was highly excited. She couldn't recall a guy standing up for her, ever. And this guy was a dreamboat, tall, dark and handsome. Making up her mind in an instant, she took Bruno's right hand and shook it.
"Thank you. That was very nice of you." She purred, trying to recall how Marilyn Monroe would have done it.
She held his hand tightly and looking into his eyes, summoned up her most seductive smile, "Come on with me, I'm with some guy back there, but I'll tell him you're a high school classmate. He won't mind. Come on, join us."
"Okay," said Bruno, enjoying her touch and noticing that her hand was moist from perspiration. They returned to her place in the back with his hand resting lightly on her waist. It was more crowded here than the front. Couples were leaning on each other, some were kissing, and others were casually groping one another.
'So this is where the action is, ' Bruno thought, trying to absorb it all. Then he was being introduced to Ginger's companion.
"This is Jerome," Ginger said, gaily waving her hand indifferently at a very disturbed burly type. "Jerome, this is... err, David. We went to high school together."
Bruno readied himself for a confrontation. The beers consumed earlier and his successful showdown with Charlton buoyed his confidence. The hairs at the nape of his neck rose up and he curled his fingers into fists.
Jerome saw Bruno square his shoulders and position himself on the balls of his feet and realized that the guy was ready to fight.
Bruno's testosterone surged to new-high's and he waited for Jerome to do something, anything that he might consider sufficient to provoke him into swinging a fist into his face.
His nostrils widened as he inhaled the musky aroma drifting up to him from Ginger. Bruno literally seethed with tension.
"Hi Jerome," he said with sarcasm, "You gonna hang around her much longer?"
His eyes challenged Jerome; his voice belligerent, sounding hoarse, whispery and dangerous. The bartender stood nearby, behind the bar, waiting for the fight to begin and nervously reached for the small bat hidden behind the bar.
Ginger felt an electrical current surge in her loins. 'Was this guy gonna fight Jerome over her?' She thought. She couldn't recall the last time she was this excited, then did. 'What was I then, thirteen, maybe?' She had peed her pants that time. Nervously she gnawed at her lip. "Gawd!" She said in awe of the situation.
Her nostrils flared, Ginger moved closer to Bruno, intentionally brushing his thigh with her hip. Being occupied with the perceived threat of Jerome, Bruno didn't notice. Ginger continued her less than discreet exploration, touching his muscular arm and felt its hardness. He had her so excited she began to secrete juices from within the dark confines of her cunt. Her nipples were distended, pressing outward against the thin material of her dress, obvious to the onlookers of whom there were several.
"Err, David... Jerome was just leaving, wasn't you Jerome?" Ginger, obviously nervous asked, then bit her lip.
Jerome, his eyes downcast, wanted no part of any confrontation with Bruno, rose up from his barstool. He was at least four inches taller than Bruno, but size was not the issue here.
He was reeling from Ginger's rejection and had no heart for a confrontation. He thought it a waste of his time since she 'd made it obvious this Bruno guy was her choice for the evening. Besides, the way he felt he'd probably get his ass kicked by this smaller, but determined hardass.
"Yeah! I'm leaving," he said, staring directly at Bruno. He turned to Ginger. "As far as I'm concerned you're a waste of fuckin' time." He threw a three-dollar tip on the bar, spun away from them and stalked out.
Ginger moved closer to Bruno and looked up at his face. 'My Gawd, ' she thought, 'he's got the sexiest eyes, ohhhh! If only I... '
"Don't think for a minute that I'm gonna buy you drinks all night," Bruno said disappointed that he hadn't had a chance to fight. His tone conveyed some hostility and interrupted her reverie.
The bartender approached and inquired if Bruno wanted anything to drink. Taking the three dollars, Bruno tossed it to the bartender and said, "Yeah! Gimme a Heineken."
The bartender knew the money was his tip, but didn't want any trouble. He was grateful no fight had broken out.
"What's your name?" Ginger asked pressing her thigh against Bruno's leg. To herself, Ginger thought, 'What the hell am I doing? I'm really coming' on to this guy. Whew! I've got the hots for him.'
"Bruno," he replied tersely, wondering why he was acting so belligerently. He was looking over her shoulder into the corner where a couple... if he could believe his eyes, appeared to be fucking.
"Hey Ginger," he said off-handedly, "check 'em out over in the corner there."
Ginger turned in that direction. The girl had her rear to the guy and her skirt was hiked up and from her gyrations he was definitely putting it to her.
"Oh yeah, that's Annabel and... and I think his name is Mike. She likes to fuck in public places."
Bruno had never watched anyone screwing before and stammered, "I never... "
"He just takes it out and she straddles him. No sense in wearing undies if ya gonna get laid. As long as she don't go ape-shit hardly anybody notices." Ginger tossed this off with a casual air.
Bruno was entranced as he followed Annabel's slow motion gyrating up and down, 'She's right, ' he thought, 'if you didn't study them, you'd never think anything of it.'
"Are you married?" she asked, filing his name away. She hadn't noticed any ring, but these days, who could tell?
Startled by the question, which was totally unexpected, he told the truth. "No. Why'd you ask that?"
"Cause ya seem so..." she paused, searching for the right word, "cocky." She smiled realizing the double meaning that implied. "Err,... you're not... ya know? Well, ya seem comfortable around me... most single guys, err... they err..."
Stuck, Ginger changed direction. "That's good! That you're not married, ya know, 'cause I don't go out with married guys. There's no percentage in it."
Bruno didn't pick up on the underlying message. He was staring intently at Ginger's nipples, still prominent as they strained against her dress.
"You know," Bruno rasped, "you gotta great body Ginger."
His words washed over Ginger, and filled her pores. She heard them all right, but between taking in his good looks, remembering his chivalry, and the compliments he was paying her, he'd moved her to a nether world. A dreamy place, where it seemed as if he were laving her cunt with his tongue. Coming back to reality, Ginger murmured in a quavering voice, "We don't have to stay here," wondering at the same time why she'd said it.
"Where do you live?" Bruno inquired.
"Brooklyn," Ginger answered before thinking. 'Oh, shit!' Ginger thought. 'Now he'll dump me. No one wants to travel that far, and what am I gonna do, introduce him to my father?'
"Okay," he replied anxious to get her out of the bar and alone. "Let's go, I'll get us a cab."
Risking a last glance over Ginger's shoulder he saw Annabel deftly tucking Mike's cock back into his pants.
Putting his arm around Ginger, he pulled her close and felt her pliant breast against him, instant erection for Bruno. Ginger noticing the bulge in his pants, licked her lips which had dried despite the lipstick adhering to them. Composing herself, she settled her arm around Bruno's waist, in the process marveling at the muscles in his back.
Holding her close, Bruno led her outside where the few straggling passerby's were wilting in the oppressive air. There was no breeze. The night air was heavy and difficult to breathe. It was the kind of hot, humid night that would cost some elderly people their lives.
But Ginger and Bruno weren't feeling that kind of heat.
After scanning the street for a cab and finding none Bruno decided to kiss her for the first time. Ginger's hungry mouth opened like a baby sparrow's anticipating a worm. She was clearly the hungrier aggressor. Bruno permitted her to lead the way. He still couldn't believe his luck. Bringing her body closer to his, Bruno felt her breasts crushed up against his chest. Ginger, caving into a wave of lust, ground her pelvis against him, almost desperate in her craving to feel his hard cock pressing against her. Her tongue ravaged his mouth. Gasping for air, nostrils flared, she broke off the kiss.
From the corner of his eye, Bruno spotted a cab approaching from the opposite direction and hailed it. The driver responded by serving across several lanes of traffic in a hasty U-turn and cruised to a stop beside them.
Opening the door, Bruno allowed Ginger to enter first. She bent her head and stepped in as Bruno admired the close up view of her ass clinging to the dresses' material. He followed her into the cab.
"Where to, Mac?" the driver asked.
Bruno glanced at Ginger looking for help.
"Brooklyn, err, Flatbush and DeKalb," she told the driver.
"You got it," the driver replied, and pulled away from the curb, happy with a long trip and the hefty tip it promised.
Bruno had his arm around Ginger, who snuggled closer. They kissed again. Bruno's hand cupped Ginger's breast and she moaned into his mouth. He flicked a turgid nipple inadvertently with a finger causing Ginger to sever the kiss and groan pleasurably.
Bruno, thinking he'd hurt her started to apologize.
"No, no," Ginger sighed with some intensity. "It's okay. Go ahead, touch 'em. I like... I want you to."
Bruno opened the top three buttons of her dress. Ginger leaned against him, her breath ragged, her eyes closed. A breast toppled out. Bruno took the nipple in his mouth and gently sucked on it while his fingers traced the underside of her breast.
As he licked her breast he blanched momentarily from the stale taste of sweat that had accumulated on her unwashed body from her dancing the night before.
'Fuck it, ' Bruno told himself, 'it ain't gonna kill me.'
He reached in and extracted the other breast, kneading them together and marveling at their pear-shaped fullness. Her nipples sprang out almost an inch from silver dollar sized aureole. To Bruno, they were irresistible. He took turns licking and gently nipping at them with his teeth. Ginger's hand passed through his hair and continued lower where she gently caressed his neck. Bruno found himself captivated by her breasts and using both hands, crushed them together before allowing his face to fall between them. Nuzzling them, he licked upwards through the valley and to her throat. He sucked on her throat long and hard enough to leave a hickey.
Ginger lay passive, luxuriating in the attention her breasts were receiving.
He returned to her breasts, kissing and licking around one while rolling the nipple on the other between his fingers. He gloried in their fullness. 'Real tits, ' he told himself. 'None of that artificial silicone shit.' Then he registered an unpleasant fact about Ginger. She wasn't very clean. He had already tasted her sweat and now his nostrils absorbed her body odor. She wore no perfume or cologne. Bruno shrugged it off. 'She's got a great body and she wants to fuck. Nobody's perfect.' He continued exploring her body.
Ginger's hand was also busy, gliding along, opening shirt buttons, bearing his hairy chest; moving down across his firm stomach to his belt only to withdraw, then to reconnoitered along his leg until she found his groin. There she paused. Then, like an animal having sniffed the air for potential predators and satisfied herself no danger lurked close at hand she resumed moving her fingers again, searching for his cock, locating it, gripped it firmly and squeezed.
She began to knead it, delighting in its great size. Ginger started to unzip Bruno's fly, but realizing they were approaching Brooklyn, hesitated and instead contented herself with fondling him as she considered where to take him once they reached DeKalb.
"Ummmmmm." groaned Bruno in pleasure, as his fingers worked feverously to open the remaining buttons of the dress in the darkness of the cab as it sped towards Brooklyn.
Suddenly the bright lights of the Williamsburg Bridge flickered into the cab as they crossed the river, affording Bruno and the driver, their first clear view of Ginger's fine, lithe body.
Bruno glanced toward the front of the cab and caught the driver's eyes on them in the rear-view mirror. "Watch the road, Buddy," he grunted, "I'll handle the backseat, you got the front."
Ginger made no attempt to cover herself from the drivers prying eyes.
"Yeah, right," morosely replied the driver, who continued sneaking glimpses of the activities on the back seat as the cab wove its way through the light traffic and entered Brooklyn.
Bruno's hand traveled up under her dress. "Lift up." He commanded.
Ginger complied and the thin dress was raised to her waist. The cab swerved, as the driver and Bruno both saw Ginger wore no panties. Regaining control, the cabby tore his eyes from the rear view mirror, swearing to himself under his breath. 'Christ, ' the cabbie thought, 'he's gonna fuck her in my cab, ' He gripped the steering wheel tightly, hardly taking his eyes from the rear-view mirror. 'Maybe I'll get some too.' And with that gratifying thought in mind, concentrated on his driving again.
As Bruno's fingers traced their way toward Ginger's curly pubic hair, she gently restrained him.
"No, don't do that, not there. I've... I've got the rag on."
To support this statement she reached down and found the cord from the tampax inserted inside her and placed it in Bruno's hand.
"See?" she murmured shyly.
"I don't care," he said, although he was bitterly disappointed in being denied access to those sweet rose-petal lips. Then recovering his sensibilities, he countered, "I'll only touch it on the outside, how's that?"
And not waiting for her approval, he began drawing his fingers tenderly along the outer folds of her silky-sheened labia.
"No, don't," she whimpered, incredibly aroused. "You'll make a mess. I'm not ready for that."