IaW Ch. 08: Blast from the Past

This is the eighth installment of the "In a World..." series, detailing the erotic journey of Ginnifer and Rick. This narrative can stand alone, but it's at its best when read in the slowly-building sequence. This is also a cross-category story that leans deepest into the prurient parts of the "Loving Wives" category. More sensitive readers should check the IaW Foreword (a stand-alone chapter) to see if this story is right for them.

Note: this is a COVID-free story. It was planned when Corona might lead to a hangover, not a virus. If this story happened during lockdown, the characters would've done very different things. If you need an escape from social distancing, keep calm and read on.

Yours truly,

Wilson Spalding

###

I was in a daze. It was a hot Sunday afternoon, climbing past 103º, and my focus was shot. The mental state had little to do with the blazing August sun, though; it was all about the ginger and the brunette dancing around my kitchen.

Ginny laid a deep, probing kiss on me. Tina followed that with just a hint of tongue, then Gin gave it a chaser -- a glorified peck -- and the girls were gone.

The screen door shut as the girls headed out the back door. I heard pleasantries between the dynamic duo and our neighbors, then the exhaust of Ginny's Miata as they took off.

Exhaust.

Man, there could not be a more appropriate term for that.

The second they were gone, chatter floated in from the three guys next door. Naturally, it had everything to do with the girls.

Yeah, last night had been a helluva party.

With the girls gone, the energy was gone. The motor was gone. Which wasn't entirely bad. I wanted to pop a beer, sit on the couch and meditate deep enough to snore. What I needed to do was go next door and have a heart-to-heart with M.B.A. Moe, Curly and Larry.

Problem: I wasn't really sure what to say.

Last night... a lot went down. After the cops left, during the post-party clean-up, we buried the needle on the scandalometer. Shortly after, the boys sent over their videos. Yes, that kind of video -- and only of the ginger. That would be Ginny, my fiancée. Already told them "Cool, but... Don't Post Those Videos Anywhere."

I know we had an understanding on that, but on the bigger "issues"? I still wasn't sure what to say. I can't say that I set it up, exactly, but I almost kinda did. Didn't think it would go as far as it did, but considering how it ended, that was the new precedent.

Fuck. Honestly, I have no idea where to go from here.

Yeah, sleep would be good but there was no way.

Instead, I threw on shorts and went for a mid-afternoon run. Late August, so it was hot as hell. Advil masked the hangover pretty well, and honestly, between the girls, I'd metabolized everything else in my bloodstream. That left me and my dick to have a heart-to-heart on this blistering atonement session.

"What do I do?" Not really sure who was asking that, though. Could be my heart, my head or my dick.

"About what?" one of the others answered. About the obvious: Ginnifer, my fiancée who was embracing her inner slut at levels above and beyond. Somebody mentioned "Out of Control." I think that was my ego. "That was the point," my dick answered.

Somehow, my heart didn't feel threatened. Gin had her kinks, but she wasn't looking for emotional support or protection from anybody else. Everybody else was an adrenaline source. I was home base. For the heart, so far, things were right where they needed to be.

I had to pause at an intersection, if only to adjust the package. The last couple of days had seen some major below-the-belt action and frankly, I was getting complaints as the boys got squashed between running thighs.

Some dry, internal voice mentioned something about "karma." Super-ego, I'd assume. Kind of a moralizing prick, but he wasn't wrong in this case.

Somehow, that brought back my neighbors: Thurston Howell III, the Skipper and the Professor. Or Preston, Chazz and Blake, in that order. Fuck. Did that make me Gilligan?

I nearly punched one of them last night, and now I couldn't even remember who it was. It didn't matter anymore. And, well, honestly... it was my island. Fuck it, Gilligan for the win.

By the end of last night, we had kind of an understanding. Not only did I not feel like threatening them into clean behavior, part of me actually wanted to see how much "trouble" Ginny would get herself into with them. She might be "never again" after last night's grand performance, but I had a feeling it was just the opposite.

"How do you feel about that?" Ego, again.

I hit a stride in 104º heat and I knew I was going about a six-minute mile. Losing fluids, and after the last two days, not sure how much "fluid" I had left to lose. Wiped the sweat out of my eyes, but this conversation was on autopilot.

The neighbors. Not the "fucking neighbors," though that's exactly what they were. Maybe that was a good sign. Who else? Some fossil she works for, though other office fossils would likely add to her "Veronica Count." Add a girl we met last night. That opened an interesting angle. Oh yeah: the pair of dudes I set her up with last weekend, our last night of a vacation. There was a video from that encounter, too.

In the space of a week, that was a helluva count.

How did I feel about all of that?

Traffic passed and the sun burned my skin. Tits and ass flashed through my head, girls past and present. Ginnifer's face, her lips wrapped around some anonymous shaft. That, right there...

Focus on that.

That moment, I finally knew what was messing with my Zen thing: my own ego. Fears of social fallout. So far, I hadn't actually come face-to-face with life's "comments section."

But what about the neighbors? They weren't just trolls on Rotten Tomatoes, they made a fucking fan-movie with the original talent. What about that?

My dick turned to punch my ego square in the face. A fiancée with a slutty reputation actually turned me on as long as it was about her appetite for variety, not about how I ranked on the menu. Right now, at least, the only sting I felt was the sweat in my eyes.

I shook my head and started running again.

Surrounded by boobs and a participant in a live sex show, I was square in the middle of it. Still, it wasn't all about me: I was the voyeur, not the exhibitionist.

What did I listen for this afternoon, when the girls left? To make sure the neighbors behaved. That was the critical part. The scandal spectrum stretched from "cuck" to "slut," so the important thing to ask now: how was Ginny handling it?

If I was reading it right, the instant connection between the girls was more than bi-girl playtime. By doing what she did with Epic Boobs Girl, Ginny was throwing herself mind, body and soul into a trust exercise... with me.

It felt good. It felt secure as long she had my back. After this morning, and a threesome with Tina, did she feel the same?

All those inner voices spoke at the same time: "Don't Fuck This Up."

###

I got home, went straight to the kitchen and chugged an entire bottle of diet Gatorade. Sounds stupid, but it was hard to describe just how awesome that was. Filled the bottle back up with water and started chasing the electrolytes--

"Hey." Despite all the talking this morning, Gin's voice was still gravelly.

"Hey, baby. You're back quick."

"She lives in NoHo."

"That's handy."

Gin laid on her back across the sectional, eyes closed, fingers on her temples.

"You okay?"

"Just... thinking."

I sat down on the floor next to her. Didn't want to bathe the couch in sweat. "Lemme ask again: you okay?"

"Yes? Just a lot to think about."

"All the politics and the state of the world today?"

She almost laughed. "More that it sounds like I rode roller coasters all day yesterday, but it's actually because... I've given so much head in the last 48 hours."

"Yeah..." This was extremely sensitive and had to be handled delicately. "Your lips are still a little swollen and I'm not gonna lie: it's a really good look for you."

"You're not helping, voyeur."

"Sexy sound, too. Kind of got that Demi Moore vibe with a little extra vocal fry."

"Really not helping." She propped herself up on her elbows. "You're leaving in a week, right? Next Sunday?"

"Yeah. I'm hoping you can drop me off. If you can't, I'll--"

"I can." She rolled to her side and reached out. She ran a thumb over my soaking forehead, wiping away sweat. "You went running. You're insane. You know that, right?"

I shrugged. "Coming from the girl who recently spent a week in a mental hospital, I'll accept your diagnosis."

That brought a smile to her face. "Sanity is relative."

"There. See?"

She rolled to her back again. "You want to talk about it?"

"Sure. Which part?"

"Good point." She squeezed her eyes shut as she silently counted on her fingers.

I watched those fingers go up. "Each one of the points you're thinking about is at least two bottles of wine long. I don't have that in me right now."

She turned to me, reaching out again. "Can we do a quickie, just so I know we're okay?"

"I'll never turn down a quickie."

Gin glanced at her boobs, then back at me. "Okay, first: I'm still sorting out Tina."

"Tina feels bigger than Tina. I'm guessing Tina opened a few things up that you haven't thought about since Lindsay."

"Yeah," Ginny nodded. "Nailed that."

"No pressure. When stuff comes to you, we'll talk about it."

"Thank you." She pointed at the wall, toward the neighbors. "Okay... them."

"So, yesterday morning, I'm in the shower with this hot chick and she asked me if I was going to be able to handle having a fiancée with a slutty reputation. I didn't realize she'd put me to the test so qui--"

"I'm sorry. I plead temporary insanity."

I nodded. "The court recognizes the extenuating circumstances of appletinis. Case dismissed."

"Wow. I got off easy."

"That's part of your charm."

"Oh my God!" she snorted.

"Tell me it's not true."

She pursed her lips, guilt dripping down her face. She wasn't pressing last night's debauchery, instead holding up the third finger. Moving on. "What I'm dreading and..."

"Looking forward to...?"

"Am I that easy to read?"

"Sometimes."

"Tomorrow. The office."

"Morty," I specified. Morty was the million-year-old sexual harassment defense attorney that had been grabby for a year and a half -- right up to the point last week that Ginny gave in to her kinks for both old guys and boss-types.

"Morty," she confirmed. "I don't know how it's going to play out."

"Okay, my prediction: you're going to go off the deep end with him until one of you gets tired of it."

"Maybe. The way he wanted an after-hours beej in the lobby, though? That's got me... worried."

Yeah, the aftermath of that dominated our Friday night. "He likes flaunting you?"

"This was after we almost got caught on Friday morning. I'm worried how the rest of the office is going to react if we actually do get caught."

"If? Didn't they install cameras after the whole temp episode?"

"Shit. Okay, 'when' we get caught. I'm a little nervous." She covered her face. "Will it get me fired?"

"Maybe. Or they drop all pretense and just ask you for regular blowbangs."

"A five-man blowbang?" She got shivers. "I've done two-man blowbangs and last night, a four-man."

"Two man, plural? How many...?" Last weekend, the two dudes in Palm Springs. They'd actually sent videos and then -- Fuuuuuuuuuck. It hit me like an Acme anvil: the videos her ex had uploaded to YouPorn. The same videos that caused Ginny's nervous breakdown. "Oh, yeah: your ex and his buddy."

She turned over and buried her face in the cushions. "Did you block it out?"

"No, just slipped my mind for a second."

"Let me guess: the videos made you remember?"

"Yes, my amateur porn star."

Ginny rubbed her eyes and almost smiled. "You mentioned earlier that night that if I went through with it, you'd want to see pictures. Did 'the dudes' ever send anything?"

"Yeah, they sent videos that night. You'd already passed out."

She gave me a furtive glance and paused over a lip-bite. "Was giving them your phone number okay?"

For a heartbeat, that she'd given my number kind of annoyed me if only because of where I work. A heartbeat later, I pulled my head from ass: Ginny was laying a lot more on the line than I was. I reached over and swatted her ass. "Naughty Girl! It was fucking kinky!"

She smiled, a bit tentative, but buried her face back in the couch. "I was a little nerv-"

"No, that was good. If something comes up, we have their contact information."

Gin blinked a few times, then nodded. "Well, that... yeah. Wow. Points for adulting?"

"Hey, if we're going to have 'adult behavior,' may as show some actual adult behavior."

"Did you watch them?"

"I saw enough to know what they sent, but I haven't watched like they deserve."

She looked worried again. "Was... should... I mean..."

I reached and caressed her cheek. "Honestly, I've wanted to watch since last weekend, but with work and everything else, this week has just kicked my ass. Scheduling a premiere is kind of a bitch."

"Scheduling a what?"

"This last week, when we've been together, either we're talking about work or we're fucking. Which is great. I'm sure I'm going to watch the shit outta this amateur almost-wife porn, but for the premiere, it needs to be red carpet with the star of the show there to give me commentary."

"I feel like I should have an evening gown on..." Ginny snuggled up against me and reached for my phone. "Can we watch now?"

"On my phone? Fuck that. I copied them to the hub."

"Oh, wow..." She down my phone and picked up the TV remote. "So we can watch on the big screen?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"When can we watch them?"

"Now-ish? They're in the 'Palm Springs' folder." I stood up and handed her the other remote. "Let me rinse off. I'll be right back."

I took the stairs two at a time, but holy shit... Honestly, I wasn't sure I could do it. I breezed through the shower but I was nervous about going back downstairs. If we watched her fuck around with these guys, she'd want positive reinforcement... but I'd already come six times in the last 24 hours: four of them with Tina, two with Gin (and a participatory audience). In my life, I don't think I'd ever been afraid to watch a porn before.

I put a little Vitamin E oil on sensitive moving parts, fresh shorts, and I was back downstairs a minute later.

Ginny had navigated the home media server and I glanced at the hand-sized thumbnails on the big screen. There were twelve different videos, some longer, some just snippets, and they were in the order they'd been shot.

"Fire it up."

She got the first one started and memories of that night came flooding back. We were on the closed, after-hour pool deck of a Palm Springs motel. No direct lights, but it was on the far side of the parking lot so there was plenty of spill-over glow. Ginny and I had gone out for one last late-night flash under the stars.

That whole trip had been about synchronizing her exhibitionism and my voyeurism, so once we hit the jacuzzi, I threw her shirt to the far side of the pool. It was already after 2am on a Saturday night/Sunday morning, so neither of us really expected anyone else. It was low-risk, so the toss was just to amp up a kinky risk of exposure.

Of course, that's when 'the dudes' showed up. Risk realized.

Ben and Harry, practically an ice cream, may as well have been younger, shorter versions of the Big Lebowski. Both of them were jolly stoners and were pleasantly surprised by the naked hot chick in the hot tub.

They were already stoned, but they did bring beer and we invited them to join us.

Let me back up just a second. Remember that "voyeur/exhibition" thing? Yeah. I'm a voyeur. Gin's a flirt and a show-off, and we'd spent most of that road-trip vacation getting comfortable sharing that kink with our future life-partner.

As for me, the voyeur, I've got a thing for the fictional girlfriend from the movie "Clerks." The gag there was that Veronica went down on 36 guys before going out with the main character. Dante was the epic #37 (otherwise the most boring number in the universe).

Ginny had her own "Veronica Count" but at "6," it was comparatively tame. I was #7. What was the next step in synchronizing kink? Getting Ginny to match Veronica's number. Not only dinging #37, but amping it up: we'd reset her count to "0" to mark the number of other guys she'd gone down on while in a committed relationship.

Healthy? Probably not, but for both a voyeur and an exhibitionist, it was pure sexual heroin. In the big picture, married-but-promiscuous is pretty fucking vanilla, yet it became the kinky bedroom talk that got us off.

That whole vacation, we flirted with the "what-if" of making it a reality. Real life, however, gets sticky. A ton of things can go wrong and neither of us wanted to screw up the relationship. So, we flirted with a lot of should, could, and would.

When the dudes showed up, I knew what had to happen.

I excused myself from the party. Not only would I leave her with the dudes, I wasn't getting her shirt. "Should" became "shall."

Ginny got the hint, accepted a beer... and stayed behind. "Would" became "will."

Now, there were three voices and dark, grainy video playing on a large-screen TV. They had good phones and the spill-over lighting made it clear enough to see the sparkling engagement ring she held up for the camera.

"Yeah, I'm engaged..." We could even see the guilty grin on Ginny's face...

It was definitely amateur video, with Gin looking the part of a high-maintenance future trophy wife slumming it in a motel jacuzzi with the gardening crew. Still, if the video stopped now, there was plausible deniability. Her head and shoulders were above the water line, but the rest of her was mostly hidden under the dark water.

There was playful conversation, but honestly, the rush of the moment was getting to me. Words and giggles just sailed in one ear and out the other.

The guys stood and moved to the other side of the jacuzzi, still filming, and sat on either side of her. One of them handed her a second beer. She'd barely started the first, but now had a bottle in each hand -- or as she called it, "Irish handcuffs."

"Guuuuys!"

It was a perfunctory protest from Ginny as Ben and Harry slid into the water on either side of her. There was even a shot of the other guy filming as they did -- Dude #2 had a phone in his hand the same as Dude #1. I'm guessing that was one of the other videos.

I turned to Ginny. "Dual cameras?"

"I, uh... I said if anything weird was going to happen, my husband would want to see it. They took that as an invitation."

I nodded, smiling. I think she said other words, but only one stuck in my head. "So, 'Husband'? Cool. Has a nice ring to it..."

Ginny glanced at the big screen, then leaned in to lay a deep kiss on me. "God, I love you..."

"I lofmphph..."

She used the lip-smash attack, cutting me off. Under oral assault, I closed my eyes but still heard Gin's breathing, my own heartbeat and the banter on the TV. Even with eyes shut, I couldn't get her in-jacuzzi image of her out of my head. Nor did I want to, but as my fiancée, it was just so goddamned dirty.

We came up for air a few moments later and I glanced between and forth between two Ginnifers: one next to me, one on the giant screen. We'd done this once before: watching the videos of her with her ex as they played off YouPorn...

The video version of my betrothed sipped her beer and there was more laughing and flirting that I couldn't hear over the thump of my own heartbeat. So much had happened since that night and yet, watching the first time still got to me.