Ginger ward

Ginger looked around at the attendees of the wedding. She smirked to herself, wondering how many of them knew who they were there for and how many had even bothered to ask. It's a wedding for the daughter of one of the higher-ups within the company. The girls' father, with all his wealth and power, should have been able to make it a grand event of the year.

That wasn't happening as everybody kept trying to get in good with her father. Poor girl was practically furniture as they gave her and her soon-to-be husband a quick congratulations and immediately turned away from them to try and kiss her father's ass, giving all sorts of compliments in the hopes of improving their chances of going up in the company.

She didn't need to worry about that. No, she was a powerful old bitch within the company and rather proud of it. She used feminism to get rid of a few of her male bosses and then made herself a lesbian to get the LGBT crowd to back every move she made. She'd even gotten herself a girlfriend to be sure of their support.

She didn't really care about the woman; she was just an intern that was easily used for her ambitions. Though she did admit it herself, she did enjoy using the girl to satisfy her own needs. Forcing her to go down on her while under her desk was quite the power trip. She could see why Bill had it done on national television. She wouldn't take it to that ****, of course; too much risk.

So for the moment she drank the wine, bathing in the misery of a wedding girl that was ignored on her special day. Hell, as far as she knew, the girl didn't even like her fiance. Her dear father was forcing the marriage to some Middle Eastern type to secure some time deal for the company. Which only made it so much worse; poor girl had everything **** on her and couldn't even be able to feel special on her wedding.

She had to hold in her laughter at such a miserable girl. Then all of a sudden she felt something, and it took her a moment to realize what it was. As it was impossible to actually happen, but it was indeed happening. A man had just put a hand on her thighs; she turned to see who would dare, as that was career suicide for anyone here, and they all knew it. She turned and saw the white man everyone had been making fun of clearly plastered.

Ginger had been wearing a white business suit as she didn't take this farce of a wedding seriously enough to get dressed up for it. Her long white skirt had been pushed up by the drunk dead man to let him play with her thighs. She was just about to scream out threats at him when a pleasant tingle went up her spine. It turns out the drink was very good with his fingers. As he rubbed and stroked her thighs in just the right way to make her tingle at the touch.

She tried to scream at him again but had to stop and close her mouth firmly shut because otherwise she was going to moan out as her groper found a sweet spot she didn't know existed. He saw her reaction and began to touch her thighs in almost the right ways, causing her to stand there and squirm as he played her like a fiddle, trying desperately to not moan out in pleasure.

No one seemed to notice what was going on as she was in the corner of the large room, and her reputation as well as her palpable screw-off aura had kept everyone away from her corner. Which meant nobody was looking in her direction. So all she could do is squirm there like a fish on a hook.

Her groper decided to make it even worse, as he had decided that groping with his hands wasn't enough. So he began kissing up and down her neck. Leaving a trail of hickeys as he explored and tested each part of her neck with lips and teeth to see where best to kiss. It had become too much for her, and before she realized what was happening, she was squirting, not cumming, squirting her juices, covering her panties, and leaving a puddle beneath her feet as her rose of pleasure was covered by the drunk groper quickly covering her mouth.

The strength drained from her as questions bounced around her head like bullets. Did she just cum from her groper? Did she just squirt her pleasure fluids all over the floor? When could she squirt? A dozen questions like those demanded answers as they bounced around her. Though there was one that demanded an answer first. Was he done?

This question scared her as she found her rational mind saying she had just been sexually assaulted and screaming for those around her to help her. Though the part of her that was woman demanded more before there could be a winner between her logic and lust, the man leaned down next to her head and whispered into her ear.

"Now it's my turn." Loki whispered gently but commandingly, under the sway of the recent pleasurable experience and finding herself being commanded by a man for the first time in her life. The mature MILF that was Ginger Ward found herself being led by looking to where he wanted to go, dreading it, and finding herself secretly eager as well to see what he planned to do with her next.