Nick and Ginger: PDAs and BDSM
Ginger ignored him and opened another carton, clucking her tongue as if proving something, then closing it and moving on.
“I’ve had just about enough of this, young lady,” he finally said quietly.
Normally, the couple behaved as equals when in public, but the Dom could not quite shake the feeling his slave wife was using the outing as an opportunity to be a brat and annoy him with impunity. Ginger placed a carton of eggs in the cart and began to examine the milk cartons.
“You have until we get to the produce aisle,” he hissed, fuming.
Ginger grinned and took her time. She knew her husband. He might be burning with anger but he wouldn’t make a scene in public. He preferred to remain laid back and low key. She would be able to keep pushing his buttons at least another 10 or 15 minutes before he stormed out of the store to wait in the car.
Ginger grinned again, thinking of Nick sitting in the hot car, pissed off and too stubborn to roll down the windows or turn on the air conditioner. By the time they got home, he’d be good and angry. Angry enough, she thought with a small thrill of sexual excitement, to pull out the whips and give her a good workout before he fucked her.
She looked around for another way to drag out the morning’s shopping. That’s when she realized they’d reached the produce aisle and Nick no longer looked angry. He hadn’t just calmed down, she realized. He looked amused.
The redhead looked around the produce aisle for some clue as to the change in her husband’s behavior and almost missed it. He was holding a small, brown root and grinning wickedly. As he pulled the knife from his pocket and began to remove the skin and round the rough edges of the gleaming root inside, Ginger realized what it was and what he had in mind.
“I’m almost done,” she said hurriedly. I just need a couple of more things …”
“No,” Nick said simply, holding out the peeled root. “You need one more thing, young lady.”
“Can we wait until we get home … sir,” Ginger asked, suddenly worried.
“Wait for home? I believe we would have been home if you had not been lollygagging and deliberately trying to annoy me,’ Nick said, glancing at his watch. “That would be … oh, look at that … 20 minutes ago.”
Ginger growled, but Nick did not retract his hand.
“You know what to do, young lady,” he said.
“I’ve got more shopping to do and we’re half an hour from the house,” she argued, beginning to sound desperate.
“I believe I indicated more than once you should hurry,” Nick said, keeping his voice conversational.
With a growl of frustration, Ginger snatched her namesake root from his hand and looked about the store for witnesses. Nick took her arm and guided her into an alcove between a column of lemon juice bottles and one of the freezers. He remained in front of his wife, blocking her from the view of anyone who might suddenly appear.
The redhead winced as she reached under the hem of her sundress and stroked the lips of her pussy. Despite the dread building up inside her, she was already wet. That wasn’t going to make this any better. The ginger would slide inside her easily but the moisture would make the chemicals oozing from its damp, peeled surface spread even faster.
“You shouldn’t have any trouble with it,” Nick smirked. “I carved it to about half the size of my cock and I know that fits very nicely.”
His wife responded with a primitive growl as she slipped the carved phallus into her channel. She felt the heat almost immediately, but thought it might have been due to the embarrassment of inserting a hand-carved phallus inside herself in a public grocery store. She glared at Nick’s grin as he backed up and let her out into the aisle.
“It’s not that bad,” she said.
“What?” she said, as the first sensations started to creep over her. It wasn’t heat, exactly. The ginger didn’t burn the way she’d expected it to. The heat was different. It was almost sexual. It was as if something were stimulating the nerves.
“Oh, God,” Ginger moaned, doubling over.
That, she realized, was exactly what the ginger was doing. It was stimulating the nerves in her vulva and everywhere else her fluids carried the plant’s essential oil. The chemicals were literally fucking her and not with the rhythmic back and forth of a cock or the swirling touch of fingers. The ginger simply switched all the receptors on at the same time, like throwing a breaker. And then it left them on.
There was no tidal movement, no stroking or rise and fall in the intensity. It was like one hard thrust that never ended. No, she realized, whimpering as she clutched the metal handle of the shopping cart. It wasn’t static.
“Fuck,” she moaned. “It’s getting stronger.”
Nick nodded, his face set in that annoying grin.
“Yeah, it’ll keep getting stronger for about half an hour before it levels out,” he said. “I think. I don’t actually have a vagina so I’ve never experienced it myself, but I hear it’s pretty intense.”
He stepped back as Ginger lunged at him.
“Now, now, young lady,” he smirked. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”
An orgasm swept through the redhead’s body and she struggled to stay on her feet.
“Whoa,” her husband said, catching her. “For a minute there, I thought were about to need a clean-up in aisle four.”
Check out all 3 of Nick and Ginger’s adventures on Amazon.
Nick and Ginger: PDAs and BDSM
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