Ginger Shot

...his dependency had ceased to be an act of free will. She owned him. Sex was her art, passion, the paint palette...

Ginger walks the streets leaving a trail of broken men behind her. She is an acquired taste but good for their body and soul. Her curves, the forgiveness to their debauchery. The first shot of her essence burns them like a sip of overproof rum. There is magic to her aura and logic to her choices. Yet, with all the chaos prior, during and post her arrival, they patiently wait for a second high.

---------

This is the story of Number 28

“Ginger, my Ginger.” He said confused and drunk from her nakedness. 

She smiled, and gloated, knowing his dependency had ceased to be an act of free will. She owned him. Sex was her art, passion the paint palette. 

“There is nothing you can do to keep me from you. We belong together.” 

“Please stop romanticizing us. You and I are lust and fucks. You have no heart to give me and I have not asked for it.”

“You wanted more from me?” 

“You misread that completely. Why can’t this,” she swings her hand back and forth, signaling a casual arrangement, “be enough”? 

“You brought me back to life. You give me what I can’t find anywhere else. There is an element of surprise and nostalgia that comes with you. From feeling you. Touching you. How can I not want to be near you?”

Experience triggers her memory and she becomes uncomfortable. One at a time, his words are blocked. Knowing better than to listen to a man’s feelings or read emotion in what they say or do. They are temporary and can’t be kept in a vault with diamonds and heirlooms. They’re fleeting and rarely make it through generations, but surely survive through consequences of hurt and deceit.

Ginger loved once. It was far behind her when she last felt her heart beating for a man. The ashes of that love move throughout the corners of her lair. They fight to not be swept off the floor. To her better efforts in attempting their removal, they hide from her coldness. 

She leans over to kiss him slowly. Allowing her tongue to dance in his mouth. Her lips cover his gently and he moans. He’s getting lost again in her scent. His neck is long. This is one of her favorite spots. She trails kisses from his cheek, to chin and to his neck. Her hand slowly paces from his chest to his hips. She stops when she can feel how erect he is. There is excitement in knowing she can bring a man to his knees in desire. Her hand holds him tight and she begins to stroke him. She kisses him again with passion and want. His breathing increases its pace. She tilts her head away from him and asks, “what were you saying?”. 

They smirk at each other before she begins her descent, ensuring she does not lose sight of his gaze. She knew what he liked. He’d mentioned once his favorite porn search was POV. She reaches her destination and kisses his tip. There is need for lubrication and so she licks from bottom to top. Only to then cover it completely with the warmth of her mouth when she reaches the tip. She sucks slowly and with intention. For the time being he was her favorite. The more he expressed his excitement the more she sucked. Her wetness dripped between her legs, dousing the sheets. Her fingers slowly sway from side to side over her clit. She is holding on to the bed for support and her head is leading her mouth. His dick begins to pulse inside it, a subtle cue he’s about to finish and so she wraps her lips tightly ensuring not a drop is wasted. Suddenly he holds her head in place and pushes himself deep inside her mouth. She gags from the force and can taste his cum. Her throat begins to swallow all of him. Pulse after pulse, he moans with sated at last. Only when he is finished does he realize the force of his grip on her head and releases her. She smiles and tilts her head back, letting his cum wash down her throat. 

“Ginger…” he whispers to himself. 

She walks to the bathroom emotionally empty once again. The walk helps her release from the energetic bond between her and her lover. She rather the void of a loveless connection than emotions that in time will make her complicit to her demise.