Ginny and Jon Ch. 01: Ginny’s Journey


I began my life outside Edinburgh, in a small town, ‘wee’ as they would say locally. My parents were kind, loving. I was a surprise to them, my twin siblings born eight years earlier. They must have been impressed with me as three years later, my younger sister was born.

I grew up shy, reserved. I wasn’t girly by any means, a tomboy, I felt more secure dressed more in the grunge style clothes of my favorite artists, as opposed to being girly; my flannel shirt, my black jeans, leather boots, and my hair cut in the goth style.

I never embraced the goth outlook on life, though. I was always too smiley. As I went through my teenage years, the frequent changes happened to my body. They popped out, not massive but a sign of my gender. Boys noticed me, and I saw them.

The last few years of high school had presented issues. My mood changed, more so as I had an on-again-off-again relationship with a boy. One minute we were together, the next we weren’t. It would be now, in my mid-twenties, despite the lectures from my dad at the time, that he wasn’t right for me.

Now at 26, it’s been three years since all that ended, the boyfriend who wasn’t right. I find myself here in London, chasing my career. Music has been my life, my love since I was young. Theatre came naturally to me, despite my shyness and introversion, I found being on stage performing as a character a great escape.

London life has had its ups and downs; anything does. On my second house share now. The first had its moments, its characters. I’d always felt comfortable there, except for a few moments with strange guys. But after Joanne had moved out, I decided to move across town.

A few men had been through my life. Nothing serious, they just seemed to want one thing, and my moral compass denied them that until I was sure. That just seemed to see them run off; there must be a world of options out there in the city, women who drop their knickers for anyone with a bottle of Smirnoff.

I stood and surveyed myself in the mirror. In my sports bra and briefs, I looked pretty damn good. My breasts, a good size, I get comments about being small, in truth, I keep them well concealed, no need to give too much away. Besides, my best feature is my arse, as many guys have pointed out. Years of squats, despite my back issues, had given me an arse that I was incredibly proud of.

I would like to be taller, maybe have a face that looked a little older. At 26, I’m not quite at the age were being told I look 15 years younger is flattering. My casting notes always said I could play 13-20.

I looked through my wardrobe. The grunge look was now long gone, in its place a mixture of band t-shirts, hero t-shirts, all dark, jeans still black. And then in the next part of my wardrobe what I called my ‘as best as you are going to get girly collection’.

I pulled out a dress, floral, down to mid-thigh. ‘Too short?’ I pondered to myself, looking at it. To be fair probably about the average. Plus, it is the height of summer outside, so I need something that will keep me fresh.

With minimal ceremony, I pulled it on, zipping it up at the back. My hair was its usual uncontrolled mess. I grabbed a hairband and tied it back. ‘That’s as good as it gets for mid-week Joanne, I hate to say,’ I said to myself, sliding my feet into some flip flops and grabbing my bag.


I hate trains. They are a necessary evil of city life; no sane human being would try and drive anywhere in this place. The teenage boys in the group of seats opposite me were acting like typical London idiots. One was leering at my legs, I crossed them and tried to act like I hadn’t seen them. They had seen me through.

“How old are you then?” one of them asked.

I stared back. “Too good to answer us, then are ya?” another asked, chewing gum and sounding way older than he looked.

“None of your fucking business,” I responded, before turning back away.

They came to the bank of seats I was in surrounding me, “ere, listen to this Scottish bitch giving us lip.”

“She should learn some manners,” one of them said, getting well into my personal space.

“Go on fuck off the lot of ya,” a female voice said from behind them. I looked up and saw a woman in her 40’s, with a friend. Both looked like they had seen battles, but I was happy for their interruption.

“Looks like your mums here slut,” said one of the boys. The woman swung at him, but the boys scampered away.

“You alright, love?” the friend asked, smiling at me.

“Yes, thank you,” I said, smiling. They sat with me for the rest of the trip. They spoke to each other, occasionally throwing a question my way. But for the most part, they were just welcome security for me.

I got off the train and rushed to the exit, not wanting to be accosted by the brat pack again. The pub was, as Joanne had said, just next to the station.

I walked in, and she was already there. Taller than me, and curvier, in her short blue dress, low cut. I admired her confidence for someone who was genuinely şişli travesti shy and introverted when she dressed all that went out the window.

“Happy Birthday,” I said as I hugged her.

“Shush,” she said in her Kent accent, “I told you I hate birthdays.”

“30 years old,” we should be out getting you well and truly messed up.

We both laughed. Joannes’s boyfriend Mo joined us. One of the nicest men you could meet and tallest. His gentle demeanor and way with her always made me so happy. She’d been through the wringer, but come out the other side.

“So who’s this guy you’ve found for our Ginny?” Joanne asked Mo, smiling at me with a comical wide-eyed expression.

“I told ya, he’s a geezer just started working with us in the office.”

“As long as he looks a little gay man, Ginny will love him,” Joanne said, laughing as I gave her a dirty joke look.

“Here he is now,” Mo said, gesturing to the door.

I nervously turned around, looking, but not seeing who it could be. Then I saw a man walking towards us. Tall, his beard and hair having a wisp of grey, his eyes a little dark. A full suit, including a waistcoat, polished leather shoes. A handsome man, but older.

“Jon,” Mo said, giving the man a handshake, “this is my girl Joanne, and her friend Ginny.”

He smiled and said hello to us both, shaking hands. His hands were soft, his nails manicured, but his grip firm. “Can you ladies excuse us a moment,” he said, his accent posh but northern, “Mo, I just need to chat with you over here.”

As they walked away, I turned to Joanne, “You said he was an older man, not the fucking oldest man.”

Joanne stifled a laugh, “Mo didn’t say his age, just that he was single, into music, and pretty.”

“Fuck,” I said, looking over at him, “My mum would like him; she likes George Clooney.”

The two men walked back. “Sorry, ladies, unfortunately, something has come up, and I must return to work,” Jon said, “it has been a pleasure.”

“Can you not stay for one?” I asked, unsure why I asked, but my friendliness popped out.

“Sadly, no,” he said, “as Mo understands, my work is something I often get dragged away by.”

And with that, he was gone.

“He is a little old for Ginny, isn’t he?” Joanne said, poking Mo in the arm.

“Yeah,” Mo said, “he realized that as well, that’s why he is off.”

I stood for a moment; I looked over my shoulder and watched as Jon walked out.

“Hang on a second,” I said and ran to the door after him.


“Ok,” I said, “it’s been a month of us dating now, and I still have no idea what it is you do, where you live?”

Jon smiled at me from across the table. He was treating me to another of London’s best restaurants. Everywhere we went, people who owned the place would come out and greet him. He knew everyone, and yet I still had no idea who it was I had been dating this last month.

“Well,” he said, smiling back, “I thought you liked mystery?”

“Mystery, yes,” I laughed, “but you’re a sodding enigma.”

The food came out. I was famished, a day of teaching kids to sing and dance had taken it out of me. It looked amazing, I was on the verge of taking my phone out to take a picture for Instagram, but then I remembered I wasn’t at Bella Italia.

“You want to take a picture of it for Snapchat, don’t you?” he asked, as he lifted a spoon to his mouth.

“No,” I responded incredulously, “Instagram.”

We both laughed and ate.

“I know there are questions you have,” Jon said, looking to me, his light blue eyes comforting, his beard trimmed immaculately, his hair perfect, my heart pounding.

“Well, yes,” I responded.

“Come to Cornwall with me. I’m visiting my estate.”

“For the whole week?”

“Can you get away that long?”

I thought for a moment; I barely knew this man, and yet I wanted to. I felt comfortable enough, and I certainly didn’t feel any danger from him.

“Ok,” I said, “let’s do it.”


The train ride down was quiet. Jon had bought me a first-class ticket. He had been summoned down earlier than expected. And while there had been thoughts of canceling the trip, we had decided it was still workable.

As I walked out of the station, the sun shone down on me. I had chosen to wear a dress for the trip and even a ladylike hat and proper shoes. I saw Job standing beside a large black four-wheel drive. I glided over to him, smiling.

“Look at you,” I said, giggling, “Tony Soprano.”

He laughed and gave me a gentle kiss on the lips. He took my bags and loaded them in the back. He opened the passenger side door for me and assisted me into my seat. I smiled, feeling very much more mature than I was.

As we drove through the glorious countryside, I felt almost like I was home in Scotland. The hills where more rolling than mountainous, but the green was there, and the occasional sheep. Autumn was coming, the occasional copper-toned leaf being seen in the trees. bakırköy travesti It was all magical.

After a while, we turned towards large metal gates. In front of me was a long gravel driveway, leading up to something that best resembled a castle. It was like something out of Downton Abbey or some period drama.

“Fucking hell,” I said, my eyes wide in awe.

“Might want to mind the old p’s and q’s around here,” Jon said, giggling, “might upset the staff.”

“You have staff?” I asked louder than I thought I was going to.

Jon just laughed, shaking his head, “gullible little bugger ain’t ya.”

“Duck you,” I said, we both laughed.

We pulled up outside the house. I was about to open the door of the car.

“Wait,” Jon said, his hand on my leg.

“You don’t have to open it again; I’m quite capable,” I said.

“Oh, I know,” Jon said, “there is something I would like to ask you before we go inside.”

“Look, I’ve known you a month, and all this is impressive, but I’m not gonna marry…”

“No!” Jon said, stifling a laugh, “Lord, no, I don’t mean that!”

I looked at him, “then what is it?”

“I need to know you trust me?”

“Ok,” I said, turning to face him.

“We’re a long way from anyone else here,” he said, looking into my eyes, “and I haven’t talked about this with you, and I’m hoping you don’t get freaked out.”

“Spit it the fuck out,” I said, hearing my Scottish accent get a little firmer.

“I’m not,” Jon said, “well, I’m not good with vanilla.”

“What, like the ice cream?” confusion in my voice.

“Have you heard of ’50 Shades of Grey’?”

“Oh fuck, are you into weird sex?”

“It’s not that weird, well what I am into is not that weird, well I don’t think it’s weird,” Jon started to squirm, I smiled a little at his apparent shyness.

“In all honesty, I’ve never thought about it,” I said, looking back at him, “I wouldn’t say I’m not interested in it, I just don’t know what there is, or how I would feel.”

“Have you ever been tied up.”

“Well yeah,” I said, “my ex used to do it, was kinda bullshit stuff, he tied me down, we had sex, didn’t add anything for me if I’m honest.”

Jon nodded, “it’s ok, I just wanted to say something now, in case you wondered why I hadn’t tried anything. We’ll keep it simple.”

Jon smiled, “ok, let me see how good you are with that door then.”

I giggled and got out of the car. Jon unloaded my bags, and we walked up to the front door. I looked around at the estate. It was heavily wooded close to the house, the house filling a large area, like a big manor, lots of windows facing out from the flat front that seemed to go forever in both directions. The large wooden door with whitewashed steps leading up to it, the entrance surrounded by solid wood.

Jon opened the door and turned to me. “I’m afraid I don’t allow them to be worn inside,” He said.

“Oh,” I smiled, reaching down and removing my shoes, “new carpet?”

“I meant your clothes,” he said in a matter of fact way.

I stalled for a moment, my eyes bugging out, looking at him. He looked back, that matter of fact expression back on his face.

“I’m not stripping out here,” I said, looking back at him.

“Why not?”

“Because I might be seen.”

“By whom?”

I looked around, lots of trees, a big house, a long driveway behind me.

“Shit,” I said, “no, please not yet, can we wait and talk a bit?”

Jon stood there, he reached out and took my shoes from me, silently looking at me, a calm look on his face. I felt myself starting to feel a little aroused. I removed my hat and handed it to him.

“That’s a lovely hat,” he said, smiling as he took it.

I looked around, my heart pounding, my knees trembling, I reached behind me and unzipped my dress, I slipped it from my arms and then stepped out of it. I handed it to him, stood there in the least sexy underwear I owned. I regretted the choice.

“Bloody hell,” he said, “You have the body of a sexy 20 something, but have the underwear of my mum.”

“Fuck you,” I said, laughing, feeling a little more at ease.

“Come on, nearly there,” he said, gesturing.

I swallowed nervously, “here goes,” I thought to myself. As I reached around to unclasp my bra, I fumbled a bit.

“Relax, trust me,” Jon said.

His voice calmed me down for a moment, and I felt the clasp go. I bit my lower lip, and removed the bra, quickly placing an arm over my breasts to cover them. Jon had still not seen me naked; we had barely moved past kissing in the last month, now I was stripping on his doorstep.

He took the bra from me and smiled. “Shy?”

“Yes,” I exclaimed loudly.

“One more item to go,” he said.

I nodded, and with my free hand, I slid my panties down. I deftly lifted them to him with my clasped toes, my hand quickly covering my front bits.

He took them, and I put my foot back down, stood there, covering up as best I could. He opened istanbul travestileri the door and threw my clothes inside. He turned to me, smiling, “you kept me waiting a little too long.” He walked through the door, closing it behind him, locking me out.

“No, no, no fuck, please,” I said, pushing up against the door, “let me inside please.”

“Not yet,” he yelled out, ‘not until you do as I say.”

“I did what you asked you smart arse, now let me inside.”

“Stand up straight, hands behind your head.”

“Oh, fuck, no, please.”

There was silence; it went for a while; I started to panic.

“Please, please let me inside,” I said.

“I don’t repeat commands, Ginny, dear,” his voice stern.

I looked around, swallowing, my heart pounding, aroused. I took both my hands, and with an effort to fight my better judgment, I interlocked them behind my head.

“Now, walk back to the car, do three laps, then walk back.”

I turned around, muttering under my breath. I walked the 5 meters to the car, did three laps, then walked back. I was panting, not from exertion; I looked down my nipples were rock hard, I could feel my labia swollen. This was turning me on.

He opened the door, his hand reaching out, dragging me inside by the waist. He stood there naked, his manhood rock hard.

“You shouldn’t be doing that out there,” he giggled, “what if you’d been seen.”

“Fuck them,” I said, laughing, pouncing on him and forcing him to the ground.


“Ok, that’s enough of that,” Jon said, pushing me off of him and getting back to his feet.

I looked up at him, shocked. “Come on; I thought we were going to…”

“No,” he said, looking down at me, his hard-on melting away.

“Hey, I wanted to do stuff with that,” I giggled, watching it.

This was the first time I’d seen him naked. It was apparent his suits had been designed to hide what was underneath. Here was a man chiseled from granite, barely any fat at all, his muscles bulging from everywhere. I tried my hardest not to drool.

“Not yet dear, all in good time,” he replied, I watched as he sauntered off, his bum a work of art as well.

“Come,” he said, looking back over his shoulder, “stay on all fours and follow me.”

“You mean crawl?” I yelled back in shock.

“Yes,” he nodded, “come.”

I was about to argue, but he was already walking away. Staying down, I crawled naked across the cold wooden floor. I looked around the house, it was dust-free, obviously work had been done to restore it to its glory days. Solid wood everywhere, polished. The curtains a vibrant regal red, the smell of wood and leather everywhere.

My bum waved about in the air, my breasts swinging below me. My sexual extremities still swelling, my arousal mounting, not at rocket speed, but a steady pace, making my heart beat faster, my breathing becoming quicker.

He walked through a door into a room. I was a few seconds behind as I crawled in, I looked around in awe.

“Your room Ginny,” he said, waving his hand about to display it.

The walls were covered in elaborate wallpaper with hints of gold and burgundy. The carpet that was now below me was a deep red, soft, plush, the kind of carpet you look at first at the store before settling on the £20 rug. The large four-poster bed dominated the room; it was made to a hotel standard, loads of pillows covering it that looked heavenly.

“Are we not staying together?” I asked, looking up.

“Not yet,” he replied, “I will be working through the night, and I think a good night’s rest will do you a world of good.”

He helped me back to my feet, I stood, staring at his hard chest for a moment, then my eyes moved up and met his.

“Eyes are up here, kiddo,” he said, laughing.

I blushed, biting the corner of my lower lip. His hand came up to my cheek, caressing, fingers brushing the stray hairs from my face. I pushed my cheek into his hand; the touch felt divine, giving me butterflies, a beautiful fluttering feeling. He then moved in, his lips brushing mine, I closed my eyes, my legs becoming weak.

“Goodnight dear,” he said, he walked to the door, smiled back then walked through, the heavy door closing filling the silent room with a thud. I stood for a moment; all I could hear was the fast beating of my heart. Then a soft whimper.

I collapsed onto the bed. I looked at the clock on the bedside cabinet, ten-thirty at night already. The trip here had been long. I smiled lying atop the bed; it was massive; I had to spread out like a starfish on it to see if I could reach all corners. I couldn’t; I giggled giddily to myself.

As I drifted, I dreamt of what it would be like, sex with Jon. I was very worked up, outside naked, crawling behind him, the kiss was all a slow torment. I reached down and brushed my fingers over my swollen lips. My other hand found a nipple, I closed my eyes, my lip back between my teeth again.

My fingers explored my moistening sex, my head swimming, my fingers a little rougher on my nipple. It was not long before teasing myself had turned into the throws of self-love. My back arched, my stomach muscles clenched, I groaned, letting out a much-needed orgasm.


“Rise and shine sleepyhead,” the voice said, waking me from my dreams. The room filled with light as the curtains were flung open.

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