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
