Ginny Weds

This is the final chapter in the Ginny saga. It helps first to read "Ginny Remembers Daddy" and "Ginny Lays Her Claim," and the "Ginny Turns Pro" stories. Just click on my name and go to the link. As always, we appreciate feedback and votes!

The affair that my prospective daughter-in-law, Ginny, and I were having cooled as it moved into its sixth month. We both knew from the beginning that this would occur. But, it had happened for reasons that we hadn't expected.

When we'd met, Ginny had just returned from a year as a skater on international tour with the Ice Capades. She'd reunited with her old boyfriend, the son of my new wife Lee, and they'd planned to be married. For reasons best explained by a Freudian psychoanalyst, she'd decided shortly thereafter that she wanted me – a 50-year-old, thrice-divorced businessman – to be her lover...even beyond her marriage. The months that followed were marked by some of the most lurid sex imaginable, which we had anytime, anywhere – indoors or out – often close to the prying eyes of family and friends. No venue, even the confines of a church, was sacred.

What had moderated the affair was, as is so often the case, other people. In this instance, the critical other person was Ginny's best and longest-standing friend, Carol, a fabulously attractive married woman, now pregnant in her eighth month. Carol's husband had neglected her sexually during her first trimester and – with a combination of my lechery and Ginny's magnanimity – Carol had been encouraged to join us in a series of sublime threesomes. The less significant "other woman" was an equally gorgeous, 18-year-old, ice skating student of Ginny's. Her name was Cindy and, after I'd had a handful of flings with her, she had, to my relief, left town to skate professionally with the Holiday On Ice troupe. The teenaged Cindy was still fond of e-mailing me pictures of her spectacularly nubile body, engaged in carnal pleasures with others, whenever her wanton imagination thought I needed them.

With Carol – at my salacious urging – Ginny had been introduced to the mysteries of Sapphic love, which had ignited in her deeply seated fears of lesbianism. With Cindy, I'd weakened Ginny's ego and shown that, even with the best of intentions, I and most men were weak creatures who submitted – more often than not – to the instinctive drive to copulate rather than demonstrating the learned behavior of restraint and fidelity. Though I'd tried to keep my indiscretions with Cindy secret from Ginny, even with Carol's understanding help, the indiscreet teenager had let slip that we'd been sexually involved just before she'd left town. To a large extent, then, Ginny possessed a deteriorated sense of self-esteem and though our subsequent trysts hadn't lost their frenzy, they had become less frequent.

As a result, Ginny regarded me with trepidation as we prepared for her wedding. Since her mother was ill-equipped to either plan or finance the celebration, my wife and I arranged it. We rented the yacht club for a couple of days, one afternoon and evening for decorating and a rehearsal, the second day for the ceremony and reception. I was in charge of preparing the club hall, a huge room with full bar and risers to accommodate a band. I had help – Carol and Ginny herself – the day before the wedding, as well as a college kid from my office who would assist me in supervising the many tasks required during the reception and party the next day.

The afternoon before the ceremony, Ginny finally had tearfully confessed her anger with me for bedding her young student, Cindy. Then, while she was gone for an hour for a final dress fitting, the insatiable Carol had locked herself and me in the yacht club storeroom and proceeded to screw my eyes out...an ironic denouement, I figured, to Ginny's annoying possessiveness. During that encounter, Carol's firm though heavy breasts had lactated the clear, sweet fluid that in a few weeks' time would provide milk for her newborn nursing child. As we dressed following our carnal probing, on a ladder and atop dusty cardboard boxes, I silently realized that for many days I'd missed Ginny's adventurous, boundless appetites, and that after the wedding day any sexual contact between us would technically constitute the near-universal taboo of incest.

I must add that Mike – my stepson and the intended groom – did nothing to prepare for the wedding. Not that he necessarily would though, I mused, reflecting on his habits. His love of riding motorcycles and preparing for numerous bachelor parties had higher priority. Unlike him, his mother – my wife Lee – had been constantly busy for weeks in planning the wedding, and had already taken much time off from her work in the local hospital's Cardiac Care Unit.

And so, the wedding day arrived. For something new and different, Mike and the best man arrived on their motorcycles, dressed in white tie. Pretty cool, I thought, though I wondered if the newlyweds would ride to the honeymoon hotel on his bike. Mike and his friends spent most of the time – before and after the ceremony, save for a dance with his new bride – on the spacious outdoor pool deck, guzzling beer from a keg. Most of the females in the wedding party spent their time huddled and giggling outside on the capacious lawn, with the single exception of Carol. She was dressed in a stunning woman's tux, with a colorful waistcoat covering her pregnancy, and spent much time talking and dancing with me...apart from her neglectful husband, whom I'd just met. Ginny wore a traditional, white, veiled bridal gown, its virginal color amusingly suspect to me, since I'd unceremoniously fucked the 21-year-old scores of times over the past six months.

At home that early evening, Lee and I breathed with the collective sigh of relief that parents always do on the wedding nights of their children. Such relief was short-lived, however, as the phone rang. It was Ginny.

"JJ? Oh, JJ, I need help," she said, her voice quavering. "Mike's been in an accident."

"What? Where is he?" I asked in alarm, whereupon Lee looked at me.

"Somebody hit him on his bike going to the hotel. I wasn't with him. Carol brought me to my Mom's to change. Can you come get me and take me to the hospital?" she asked.

"O'course, honey. Which one?" I asked, giving the phone to Lee after she'd told me.

I threw on a pair of jeans, a polo shirt, some boots, and grabbed my keys. I mouthed to Lee: "See you at the hospital." She nodded and I was out the door, making the 20-minute ride to Ginny's mother's house in 15. When I arrived, Ginny had changed into a short denim skirt, long-sleeved green sweater and sandals. Though her bridal makeup was still on, it'd been smudged by tears and she was clearly distraught.

"Goddamn him, JJ!" Ginny wailed in the car, "This is the third bike accident he's been in! I don't know why I put up with it!" she said, defiantly.

"Chill out, sweets. Let's just hope he's okay," I said, trying to think clearly.

"God! You men!" she admonished. "First you nail Carol behind my back, then Cindy! Now this! Mike's supposed to be responsible! He's my husband now, but he acts like he's six! I feel like my life plans are evaporating before my eyes!" she whined.

I staunched an impulse to point out the logical flaws in her anti-male rant, and decided to weather the storm by remaining silent, almost always the best tactic.

Mike had been admitted at the Emergency entrance and it took only moments to find him, with Lee already there, shepherding him through the system as only a medical professional can do. He was already in the O.R., with an orthopedic surgeon mending what we discovered was a broken clavicle and left wrist. Lee had spoken with the attending physician, and told us Mike was also covered with abrasions. At about midnight he was transferred to a recovery room – heavily sedated with Demerol – since a CT scan had revealed no other broken bones or internal wounds. Lee was exhausted after the busy day's activities and was due at the Cardiac Unit the next morning at 6 a.m. We decided that she should go home, get some sleep, and Ginny and I would sit up with Mike through the night.

We settled down in Mike's room, after speaking at length with the duty nurse. She seemed unconcerned that we'd be staying the night, since she'd be very busy with the ward nearly full of patients. She said she'd look in every two hours and, of course, assured us that his electronic monitors would alert the nursing station of any irregularities. The room was dark save for a single, pale fluorescent light above Mike's bedstead. With his young, scraped, and bruised body in casts and plugged with wires and tubes, I marveled at the ability of medical science not only to save life, but to restore it back to health. In the meantime, of course, his poor broken form looked awfully frail and vulnerable to the dictates of nature, not to mention the whims of fellow humans.

Ginny and I sat on the room's institutional sofa – a wide banquette with a back, really – which was covered with maroon plastic. She, herself, looked as vulnerable as her new husband, with her little skirt drawn up around her uplifted thighs, peering with deep, mascara-lined eyes into the gloom. I thought to myself, cynically, that I couldn't remember ever being so young as both of them appeared, with so few answers to the mysteries that would confront them as they ventured forth into married life. Then I looked at her thighs – her muscular, ivory skater's thighs that I'd tasted, kneaded and felt tremble when clenching my neck or hips – and forgot my fatherly thoughts. Her succulent, 34B-22-36 body seemed to beckon to me, reminding me of all the blinding, visceral delights it had provided. I looked away, guiltily embarrassed.

We whispered to one another in the dark, with me finally taking advantage of our privacy – yet in a public place – to speak of my actions over the past few months. First, I spoke of her friend Carol, and what a pleasure it'd been to know her...not only physically but as a friend. I also assured her that the stunning woman would remain my friend, even after her child was born...but that would very likely be the extent of it, given her parenting duties and continuing educational plans. I also spoke of the liaisons I'd had with her teenage student, Cindy, and confessed my weakness for her Lolita-like habits that had been spurred on by the girl's incestuous relationship with her doctor father. For the first time since we'd met, Ginny had few disputes with my confessions, my rationales, or justifications. She just held my hand. Finally, I told her that I'd do whatever I could to assure her happiness with Mike, to which she smiled softly and said, "I know...I know. I love you, JJ," and looked at me so plaintively I was nearly moved to weep.

The nurse then stuck her head in – it was 2 a.m. – and asked if all was well. Ginny shivered and asked for a blanket, which the nurse provided in a few minutes. Ginny wrapped herself in it and leaned her head on my shoulder, yawning. "Gonna' see if I can sleep," she murmured, leaning her head on my shoulder. I smelled her fresh, babyish odor and closed my eyes, leaning my head back to join her in slumber within a few minutes.

Neither of us slept soundly, as Ginny constantly shifted her position, disturbing my catnapping. Finally, I awoke to find her lying down with her head in my lap, the blanket fully covering her. While I'd napped she'd stuck a hand under my shirt and, as she slept, had rested it on one of my pectorals...as softly as a butterfly. I peeked under the blanket, which caused her to open her eyes, and she smiled, then softly stroked my chest, tickling me with her hand. I smiled back and again closed my eyes contentedly to fall into a deeper sleep. As I slept I dreamed of Ginny fellating me, as she'd done many times before, aggressively moving her wide mouth up and down my cock, blowing her heated breath on me and sucking my aging prong 'til I growled and spewed my spunk into her mouth. She'd always been aggressive in doing this, yet this dream was different. She was uncharacteristically gentle, moving her lips, oh, so slowly over my tip and down to its base, then off again. It seemed so wonderful...so real...that I became conscious of moaning until...I awoke!

I wasn't dreaming! I looked down to see Ginny moving her blonde head up and down in my lap, with agonizing slowness. Her wet mouth dribbled saliva down over my balls as she gobbled me, only to reverse her languorous movement when her nose nestled in my fur. I gasped and moaned again, and she pulled off to grin up at me, whispering, "It's my wedding night, JJ! I wanna' consummate my marriage!"

Slowly, she rose to her knees and got up from the banquette, gathering the blanket around her. She walked to Mike's bedside, leaned over him and grasped his limp right hand. Poised on the other side of the bed, at the furthest point from the door yet facing toward it, she leaned forward slightly in the gloom and whispered, "Come 'ere!"

I groaned, still a bit drowsy, and stuffed my slick dick back in my jeans as I walked behind her. She leaned her head toward me, bathing my face with her sweet breath, and whispered, "You and I are the only ones who will ever know about this." She then reached behind herself to lay her hand on my swollen crotch and said, "Take me now, JJ. I want you...I'm all ready for you...".

"Okay, old man," one of my internal voices said to me, "you knew this day would come. This girl said months ago she'd want you after she got married. What are you waiting for?! You've been involved in 'technical' incest before. Go for it!" The other voice forewarned, "Beware, you stupid shit! Can't you see that this is one of those singular signposts on the road to eternity that says 'Stop'?! Do her and you'll rue this day forever!" I hesitated long enough to hear my zipper being drawn down by Ginny, as she'd half-turned to me to release my cock. Not fishing me out, she reached down with that same hand and lifted up the blanket, with her skirt, to reveal her delectable ivory butt to me, bisected by the thinnest black thong that I'd ever seen.

All seemed imaginary to me now. I whipped out my member and rubbed it slowly up and down Ginny's crack. She whispered, "Just fuck me, JJ," and – to raise herself – put one foot on the low, 8"-high metal step that helps patients step out of their hospital beds onto the floor. She sighed as I pulled aside the thong and stroked her soaking labia softly with my glans. She wiggled her bottom to seat me and hissed, "Yesssss," as I entered her clasping pussy, raising her other leg widely to step onto the tubular rail of the bed. "Oooohhh, JJ...I'll remember...this...for the...rest of...my life," she again whispered, as she ground her drooling cunt back to soak my loins.

I'd remember it as well, I thought. How bizarre can one's life be? My stepson is lying here, knocked out by Demerol, having just survived a horrible accident, and I'm languidly coupling with his bride of a few hours – in the pristine confines of a hospital room – while she holds his limp, unconscious hand. Not exactly a scene worthy of Shakespeare, but of course they didn't have Demerol in Elizabethan England, I mused, exaggerating the image for my own sardonic pleasure.

Then a hundred thoughts arose as we continued moving slowly, though Ginny had increased the pace a bit, gasping quietly as I plumbed her deeply to her cervix. The metal joints on the bed creaked methodically, complaining at the unusual lateral movements they were experiencing. My watch showed it was just 3 a.m., one hour before the nurse would stop in on her rounds. My hands gripped Ginny's hips, aiding her in our increasing acceleration, and the mechanical noises of the bed punctuated the moist, slippery sounds of her labia coating me with her sloppy, smelly discharge. I'd not remembered her issuing such gel-like effusions in the past. They were of a custardy consistency, and coated the base of my cock with a thick creamy ring as they gathered. I tasted them quickly on my fingers and they were unmistakably the essence of Ginny, this sublime woman-child who'd accorded methe "droit de seigneur"...the ancient nobleman's right to take a vassal bride on her wedding night.

"Ooooohhh, God...JJ...it's been... a...while. You're...just as...good...as you...were on...the first...day!" she gasped haltingly as she artfully flicked her hips upward toward me each time she propelled herself backward. "I... want you...to...to cum in...me...JJ. I wanna'...feel your...hot cum...filling me...up!" this time groaning, and pounding ever faster against me. "Yeah, yeah, yeah!...ohh!...ohh!...JJ!...ahh!" she continued, looking back at me frantically – with blonde hair flying – to indicate her typical quick rise to orgasm. "JJ...I'm gonna', gonna', cu, cum, cummi'...JJ...my...mouth!" she whimpered, and I did what I thought she wanted by clapping my hand over her lips, at which she came in muffled moans. "Mmm-MMM, mmm-MMM, mmm-MMM, mmm-MMM," she mewled, twisting and pressing her face against my quieting palm, and planted her clenching cunt against me to draw spurt after spurt of my seed into her. I was silent as I came, merely exhaling in deep, shuddering grunts that plundered my lungs of oxygen. I ceased shooting into her only as her spasming pussy had finished milking my balls of their contents. As I held her closely to my chest, with her head thrown back against my neck, I noticed that she'd gripped Mike's hand so hard that her nails had drawn blood from small crescent piercings. Then, as quickly as we'd begun, she dropped the blanket around her bottom and stepped back to the banquette to lie down on her back. "I wanna' keep your cum inside me as long as I can," she gasped, her eyes shining wickedly. Zipping up, I took a chair and sat beside her, holding her hand and stroking her perspiring forehead.

At 4 a.m. the nurse came in and I went for coffee, since Ginny had fallen asleep again. Two hours later Lee arrived, having begun her shift, and got a report from the nurse. All was well with Mike, and Ginny had gotten a couple of hours of rest. She asked if she could spend the day at our house, to which we agreed. She arranged to return in the afternoon, when she and Lee could visit with Mike, assuming he was awake.

"Tired?" Ginny asked, as we drove home.

"Ohh, I've felt better," I said, looking forward to napping on-and-off, since it was Sunday.

"Well, I'm not! I feel great! An' don't get too comfortable, 'cuz I want you again," she said smilingly, reminiscent of the old, energetic Ginny, when any excuse at all justified fucking. "I want some breakfast, then I wanna' spend all day in bed with you."

We ate a quick breakfast and I said I wanted a shower to wake up. She countered with, "That's a waste of time, JJ. C'mon. I wanna' smell us from last night!" and peeled down my pants after I'd placed the dishes in the washer. "Mmm, you're still all gooey!" she enthused, as she first licked me, then shoved her hot, wet mouth onto me, engulfing my cock to its root. "Mmmm, JJ, today I wanna' be so dirty with you... . Ya' know, it may be a while before we can do this again!...I mean, when we have this much time! Mmmmnn, ssslppp," she said, licking the thick, stinking, 3 a.m. deposits from my scrotum.

"Uuuuunnngh, Ginnny," I moaned, rapidly growing erect. "Jeezus, I've missed you... . C'mon...the guest room," I gasped, hiking up my pants and dragging her behind me. The guest bedroom has a queen-sized, four-poster bed, and stands high off the floor. As I undressed in front of it Ginny backed away and – knowing I like classical music – ran to the living room to put on a piece...the cliché, drumming strains of Ravel's Bolero, which I have on CD.