Chapter 17
By the time the party was over Ginger had fucked every man there. The man after Roger had come quickly, and when she opened her eyes after he climbed off she saw every man in the room lined up in front of her.
They fucked her one after the other, and Ginger came again and again. If the man on top didn't bring her to orgasm she pushed him off as soon as he was finished and let another hard cock slide into her cunt, almost without a break in her grinding twisting rhythm of love.
The party broke up after three o'clock. Ginger lay on the floor, naked, for her dress had been ripped off her long before. She staggered to her feet and picked her way through the after-party mess to her bedroom.
Roger still lay on the bed, sound asleep. Ginger didn't have the strength to fuck any more, so she gently rolled Roger to the side of the bed and lay down beside him, exhausted.
She awoke suddenly in the morning to the feel of a hard cock pounding inside her. A man's chest was pressed against her breasts, and strong arms were wrapped around her body.
She opened her eyes. It was Roger, and he pumped in and out of her cunt slowly, taking his time. Ginger ground her hips upward, and it brought a low moan from his lips.
"I thought you'd wake up soon," Roger said, and he bent his head down and nibbled at her ear.
"You sure know just how I like to be woken," Ginger replied, and she lifted her hips and wrapped her legs around his waist, letting every last bit of his cock length fit inside her.
Ginger felt her body responding as waves of sensation flowed through her, starting in her cunt and then up through her belly and breasts and down through her thighs.
"I wanted to tell you last night," Roger said, "that you're about the best fuck I ever had."
"Shut up and keep fucking," she said, but deep inside she was pleased.
Roger's cock thrust back and forth, and Ginger flexed her cunt muscles around it. Suddenly she started to go mad, and she bucked her hips and arched her back, and she moaned, "Ooh, I'm coming, baby, I'm coming."
Roger increased his rhythmic pounding, and as Ginger felt the first pleasure-pains of orgasm grip her body she felt his prick throbbing inside and then his hot come spurted up inside, shooting deep into her juicy box, and he rammed his cock in up to his balls.
They were suspended as if in mid-air for a moment, and then both collapsed. Ginger was panting, and she could hear Roger's heavy breathing and feel his hot breath on her shoulder where he rested his head.
When she had calmed down Ginger gently pushed Roger's body off her. "Okay, lover boy, time for you to get up and go," she said.
Roger opened his eyes and looked at her, startled. "What are you kicking me out for?" he asked. "Didn't I fuck you good enough?"
"You fucked me just fine, but I've got a lot of things to do today, so you'll have to go. You can call me up if you want."
Roger's eyes roamed over her body, and Ginger glanced down and saw that his cock was twitching, getting hard once more. She had a sudden longing to suck it, but then a small voice inside told her that she had to stand firm. "Besides," she told herself while Roger still looked at her naked body, "I've been fucked about twenty times in the last twelve hours. I need a rest, at least for a few hours."
Roger reached up and his hand grasped one of her creamy breasts, but Ginger gently pushed his hand away. Roger's eyes looked sad and he said, "Aw, come on, baby. Just one more time before I go."
Ordinarily Ginger wouldn't have been able to resist his plea, but now she felt her cunt filled to the brim with come and she imagined that she could hear it squishing inside every time she moved her legs. "No," she said, "not now. You really have to go."
"Okay, if that's the way you want it," Roger said, and he got up slowly and pulled on his clothes.
Ginger got up and ran to the bathroom. "Let yourself out," she yelled as she turned on the water and slipped into the shower.
She washed herself well, scrubbing off the accumulated sweat on her body, and for several minutes she scrubbed her pussy, getting rid of all the pussy juice and come that matted her hairs and made her skin feel wet and sticky. She wished that she had a bidet, but she had to do as well as she could by spreading her cunt lips and splashing water up inside. '
She dried herself and then she ran out on the bed to make plans for the next few days. She lay back and smoked a cigarette as she thought.
The first thing she had to do was make some more dresses. She had a vague recollection of the other being violently torn off her body in the course of the evening, and even if it was re-sewable she wanted to make the dresses in many different styles and colors.
She realized with regret that she had left her designs down in the shop, but she knew that she could make up some more quickly.
But she still wanted some more opinions of her dress. She didn't consider that the party had really been a fair test, because by the time she had put it on everyone had already been loose and uninhibited, and they might have done the same if she had appeared naked.
What she wanted was to wear her dresses in plain ordinary surroundings and see if they still had their marvelous effect on men.
As she thought she suddenly had a tremendous idea. If she could get some publicity at the same time her fashion would be launched, and it wouldn't be long before women from all over the country and the world would be beating a path up to her door to get a hold of her fantastic dresses.
Without a thought to any other consequences she leapt up and ran to her portable sewing machine. She didn't have time to draw up a design, but she grabbed some material and frantically began cutting and stitching.
Half an hour later she was finished. She slipped on the new dress and admired herself in the mirror. Her breasts jutted out proudly, and her curling cunt hairs were wickedly exposed.
"If this dress doesn't get them nothing will," she said out loud.
She ran to the telephone book and looked up the number of the News. She dialed, got connected to the city desk, and she told the startled desk man, "If you want to see the biggest fashion breakthrough in years send a photographer and reporter to Times Square in an hour."
"What is it this time?" he asked. "A combination mini-midi-maxi-bell-bottomed hot pants?"
"Nope, a lot better," Ginger said. "Just have a reporter and photographer there in an hour and you'll see."
"Okay," the voice over the phone said, "but it had better be good."
Ginger hung up and made the final preparations. She dabbed perfume on the tipes of her breasts and on her cunt hairs, and she swept her hair up over her head to make sure that it didn't get in the way. She put a raincoat over her dress, feeling badly that she had to cover it up, but she didn't want to start a riot on the subway.
She ran outside, waited impatiently for a train, and when it finally came she hopped aboard excitedly. She knew that soon she would have some of the most thrilling moments in her life.
At the Times Square station she got off and walked up the stairs. It was crowded, and she was annoyed as she pushed her way through the mass of people. Why didn't they realize how important she was and stand back to let her pass?
'They'll know in a little while," she told herself.
She walked out on the street, and now suddenly she had some misgivings as she stood on the sidewalk and watched the throng seeth around her. What would happen if she took off her raincoat and no one even looked at her twice?
She knew that then she would be a total failure, and she thought that she might even go back down and jump in front of a subway. She regretted that she hadn't thought about that before and taken the time to write a suicide note.
She pushed through the crowds, noting the casual stares of men passersby, but she also saw that they looked at any pretty girl. "Just wait a few minutes," she thought.
Ginger walked a block and now the crowd was thinned out somewhat. "This looks like the place," she thought, and slowly she unbuttoned the raincoat.
She watched as a middle-aged man approached with his wife and two teenaged children in tow, one girl and one boy. They were all chattering to one another and looking at the sights around them. "Tourists," Ginger said disdainfully.
She ripped off the raincoat and stood square in the middle-aged man's path.
"Fred," the man's wife said, "Look at that!"
Ginger felt pride welling up inside as the man said, "What is it, dear?"
"See the way those messages are flashed around the building there? They certainly don't have anything like that in Rapid City," she said.
Ginger felt deflated.
"Nothing like that in Sioux Falls, even," he said.
Suddenly the man stopped short and Ginger could feel his eyes on her. He exclaimed, "And I didn't think they had anything like that in New York either!"
"Fred? What are you doing? Fred! Fred! Come back here, Fred!"
The man rushed at Ginger, ripping his clothes off as he ran, and he was down to his shorts when he plowed into Ginger and knocked her to the sidewalk. His hands were at her breasts and cunt as he squirmed out of his underwear. He lifted up a second and then his hard cock slid into her box.
Ginger was in ecstasy. Her dress was working out almost better than she had hoped.
The man thrust and pounded his cock inside her, and Ginger could hear his wife screaming, "Fred! Stop that this instant! You never do that to me, Fred. Why don't you do things like that to me?"
His prick jabbed in deep to the top of her box, and Ginger could hear him panting and feel his hot breath and dripping saliva on her neck.
Then she heard the wife yell, "Johnny, you come back here! Johnny, don't you dare! Johnny, what are you doing?"
Ginger felt hands roiling her onto her side, and then a slender prick was pressed into the crack of her ass. She realized that it was the teenage son.
"Johnny, you stop that this instant!" the woman yelled as Ginger felt his prick slipping into her puckered ass-hole.
She had to admit that it felt terrific with the father's prick in her cunt and the son's in her ass. They seemed to think that it was mighty fine too, and she could hear both of them moaning in pleasure.
Then Ginger heard the woman scream again. "Susie, oh, no, not you too! Susie, get your ass back here!"
Ginger wondered what was going on, but then she felt legs slide around her head and a warm pussy was pushed against her face.
"The teenage daughter too," she said to herself, admiring the effect of her dress, and she opened her mouth and lapped at the tender young cunt flesh that had been thrust at her.
She heard the woman yell again. "Oh, what the hell!" she said, and then Ginger felt a hand grab one of hers and lift it. An instant later she felt soft nylon panties under her fingers, and then they were slipped down and her hand was pressed against more cunt flesh.
"The wife, too," Ginger thought, but then she didn't have time to think of any more as she concentrated on the father's cock in her cunt, his son's prick up her ass, the daughter's pussy wrapped around her face, and the wife's box pressed against her fingers.
She wiggled her fingers and lapped with her tongue and ground her hips, and finally she felt the father shooting off his load in her cunt.
"I'm coming, Mother, I'm coming," he shouted.
"I'm coming, Dad, I'm coming," his son cried.
"Ooh, I'm coming, ooh," the daughter murmured.
"Mercy me, I'm coming," the wife whispered.
"Wow, am I coming!" Ginger thought.
She leaped and squirmed on the ground as her whole body shook in the grips of her orgasm, and the father and son spurted hot come from the tips of their cocks and a gush of pussy juice flowed into Ginger's mouth from the girl's cunt, and a stream of the sticky wetness covered her fingers from the mother.
In a few moments it was over. Ginger opened her eyes and saw a small crowd gathered, but no one was making a move towards them.
The man got up and sheepishly put his clothes on. The son tucked his prick back inside his pants, and the mother and daughter pulled down their dresses.
The man started to stammer, "You see, I don't usually behave like that, and, I guess, it was just the excitement of being in New York and all, and..."
His wife cut him off. "You don't have to apologize to her, Fred. Just thank her. Remember when we arrived and they said this was Fun City? Now we know why."
"I'm the one who should thank you," Ginger said, as she picked herself up from the sidewalk and brushed off the dirt and dust. "And if anyone asks," she continued, "just say that you were laid by Ginger."
She left, purposely twitching her hips, and she felt that her experiment was turning out to be a success. She looked around her, wondering what had happened to the photographer and reporter.
"I'd hate to have them miss it," she said. "Then again, I wouldn't mind doing this another time. This is really turning out to be fun."
She walked east almost to Fifth Avenue, but there were few people along there, mostly women, so she turned around and came back toward Times Square again.
Coming toward her she suddenly saw a sea of black suits. There were hundreds of them, and Ginger couldn't figure out what it was.
Then she realized. "Of course," she said to herself, "I read about it in the paper yesterday. It's the ministers' convention."
She walked straight toward them, and for a few seconds the ministers' eyes were all turned up to the sky and the buildings. Suddenly one of them saw her, and he nudged the next one, and like a wave their eyes turned to her and stared.
The crowd of ministers ground to a halt, but the ones in the back were still pushing and shoving to try to get a better view. Ginger stopped and stared back, and she took a deep breath and her breasts rose and fell.
One minister started to run forward and there were cries of "Stop him! Bring him back! Don't let him!"
But they couldn't catch him, and as he ran at full speed and rammed into her Ginger heard the cries of "Don't let him!" change to "Let me at her too!"
The first one pulled, out his cock and jammed it up into her, and then she felt herself drowned in a sea of black suits and felt their hands all over her body.
"Wow, this is really something," Ginger thought, and she reached out and grabbed a prick in each hand and began to jerk them off.
The one in her came, and an instant later he was replaced by another. She felt come squirted over her face from the cocks in her hand and she licked off as much as she could, and then reached out to grab fresh pricks.
She closed her eyes and was in ecstasy. She felt a heavy body land on her head and she opened her mouth to receive another throbbing minister's dick. As he raised and lowered his body as he thrust in and out, Ginger caught the bright popping glare of flashbulbs and knew that the photographer had finally arrived.
Her design was a success. The papers would give her all the publicity she needed, and if she could turn on a ministers' convention she could turn on anyone in the world.
Ginger closed her eyes and dollar signs flashed through her head. She mechanically ground her hips and sucked on the cock in her mouth and jerked off the two in her hands.
Suddenly she heard sirens.
"Uh oh, someone's in trouble," she thought. "I hope it's not me."
The sirens came closer and there seemed to be more than one. "Maybe it's a fire somewhere," Ginger thought.
But she realized that the biggest fire in the city was in her cunt when the sirens stopped moving on the street right next to her.
She heard the excited voices of the ministers as they tried to run away, and then the hard voices of the cops as they said, "Okay, come along with us. Come along, all of you. You should know better than to riot in the middle of Times Square."
She held onto the cocks in her hands tightly, but just as soon as they started to pulse and spurt they were yanked from her grasp. The pricks in her mouth and cunt were pulled out, and then she felt hard hands grip her and lift her body in the air.
She felt herself deposited in the back of a van and heard the door close. Then she dared to open her eyes.
A cop was standing over her, glaring. Suddenly she recognized him. It was the one who had raped her that night in the park.
Suddenly he recognized her. "You!" he shouted. "Why, I ought to wring your neck!"
"But why?" Ginger cried. "Wasn't I good to you the other day? How about letting me go?"
"Not on your life," the cop roared. "We're going to take you down and throw the book at you, and maybe lock you away for life. I hope so, anyway."
"But what have I done?" Ginger screamed through her tears.
The cop grabbed her body and shook her until her teeth rattled. "I don't know about just now, but the last time you gave me the clap! I'll make sure they send you up the river if it's the last thing I do."
Ginger felt ill and she fainted dead away as the police van screeched through the streets on the way to the station