Ginger is a spice. In American cooking, it is mostly used to add interest to otherwise undistinguished dishes, such as ginger bread or ginger snaps. More enlightened cultures treasure ginger for its medicinal properties, as well as the exotic texture, hotter than paprika, which it imparts to numerous foods.
Ginger is a girl. In her own way, she is hotter and even more exotic than her namesake.
Appropriately enough, I met her at Central Market, the gourmet supermarket in Austin. Since my taste runs largely to such non-gourmet entrees as pizza, Tex-Mex and frozen dinners, it's a somewhat odd place for me to shop. I go for the beer. So far, I've probably sampled a quarter of the 150 exotic brews they stock.
It was a hot Saturday morning in August. I was pulling out of the parking lot when I saw her at the bus stop. She was facing away from me and I casually admired her butt as I drove past. When she turned around, I recognized her as a Central Market checker. I'd talked, actually flirted, with her several times. The button she wore at work read "Ginger, home town Corpus Christi."
I rolled down the window and called, "Hi Ginger. Would you like a ride?"
It took her a second, then she smiled when she recognized me. "Sure, Ken. I'd love to if it's not out of your way. But I live way down in South Austin."
There was a honk from the car behind me. "That's no problem," I said quickly, "except that I've got a bunch of frozen stuff in the back seat. I can take you home if we stop by my place and put the food away. It's not far."
"Sounds great." Ginger climbed into the passenger seat. "I really appreciate this," she said as I put the car in gear. "My pickup broke down and it's a long bus ride to work."
I admired Ginger as we drove home. There was plenty to admire, since she had swapped her Central Market uniform of loose-fitting green blouse and slacks for tight shorts and a halter top.
If I had a younger sister, Ginger would have resembled her. She was tall, about 5' 10", and slender, with long muscular legs and small, firm breasts. Her face was striking, rather than conventionally pretty, with slightly rough-hewn Scandinavian features, accented by piercing green eyes. Brown hair with a slight curl reached a few inches below her shoulders. Her skin was lightly tanned, indicating almost total avoidance of the intense Texas sun. A tattoo of a rambling rose, a long green vine with thorns and red rose buds, climbing around her right ankle added an exotic touch to her clean-cut appearance.
When I'd talked to her in Central Market, I'd figured Ginger was nineteen and just starting college. She still looked nineteen, but she was much more mature than a teenager. As we drove, Ginger told me that she'd received an art degree from U. T. Austin two years ago and was now completing her business degree. She was a stained glass artist and had succeeded in selling a few pieces of her work.
I told Ginger about my career as a writer. At this point, I was making a comfortable living writing movie scripts. Half a dozen of my scripts had been sold, although none of the movies had ever been produced. I'd also sold a handful of television scripts, which had been used. Writing short stories for various men's magazines under various pen names also brought in a small but steady stream of cash.
We finally reached my house. Ginger helped me unload the car and looked around the dining room while I put the groceries away. She quickly spotted the Colt calendar on the wall beside the door leading to the garage. "What a beautiful man!" she exclaimed, staring at the photo of the handsome American Indian. "He has such nice muscles and I love the way his long cock is hanging down but starting to curve upwards. He's getting a hard-on." I noticed Ginger was rubbing her breasts with one hand.
She turned away from the calendar and walked through the kitchen into the den. The lights were off and the shades were drawn, so the illuminated section of the entertainment center on the far wall stood out sharply. "Is this David?" she asked, moving to examine the 18 inch-tall statue in the alcove. "No, of course not," she answered herself. "It's done in a Greek style, but it's modern, rather than a copy. He's got such a pretty little uncircumcised dick!"
I stepped into the den, pausing to switch on the hanging light by the fireplace. Ginger turned to face me. "Ken," she asked, "do you like girls, too?" I answered by kissing her . . . hard.
We'd been making out on the couch for a long time and were mostly undressed when Ginger suddenly asked, "Do you have a boyfriend?"
I removed her left nipple from my mouth and looked up at her face. Her lips were slightly parted and she was breathing hard. "Not exactly a boyfriend," I answered. "I have a fuck buddy named Daniel. He comes over every week or two and we have sex. Daniel has a lover and doesn't want me to call him at home."
Ginger had one hand inside my shorts, touching my erection through the thin fabric of my briefs. "Tell me what you did the last time you were with Daniel," she commanded. "Did he fuck you? I like hearing about boys getting fucked."
"The last time was a couple of weeks ago. It wasn't very good. Daniel was in sort of a hurry. He just had me lie down on my stomach and jammed his dick up my ass. He came real quickly."
"That doesn't sound like much fun," Ginger commented. "Did you come too?"
"Yeah, from my cock rubbing against the sheets. It was all right, but not as good as it usually is. Daniel usually prefers to get fucked, anyway"
Ginger was running one finger over the head of my penis, which had escaped from the confines of my briefs and was leaking seminal fluid. She guided my hand between her spread thighs. Her panties were moist. "Tell me about one of the times when it was really good." Her voice was husky.
"Daniel likes to get warmed up by watching a gay porn video and drinking a beer. We keep our clothes on and don't touch ourselves or each other. He usually fast forwards through the non-sexual parts and sometimes through the blow jobs. He likes to watch the fucking. I think the anticipation turns him on."
"Do you like that too?" Ginger asked, stroking her breasts with her free hand.
I paused for an indeterminate amount of time while I kissed her throat and licked her ear. "It's OK, I guess," I finally answered. "I really like watching porn while I'm jacking off by myself, but when I'm with another person, I want to concentrate on him. Or her," I added hastily. "With Daniel, the videos just delay getting to the fun part. Still, they get him really hot, so I can't complain."
