Gina isn't classically beautiful. Well, she does have a world class ass and thighs (both pleasantly large for her five foot two inch, 105 pound frame), a flawless complexion, and an exotic face; but you won't see her photo as one of the world's thousand most beautiful women. However, the quality that she does have that undoubtedly puts her in the top thousand women in the world is sultriness.
What does "sultry" mean for a woman? According to the dictionary it means "characterized by or arousing passion." That isn't the half of it when it comes to Gina, however. To me Gina is the epitome of sultry because when she stares through your eyes into your soul she sends the message "I know that you want to fuck me more than anything else in the world, and you should desire that, because if I rode your cock I'd rock your world and spoil you for anyone else."
*************
At the start of this tale Blake Rockford, that's me, my wife Cheryl Williams (see kept her maiden name), and our eleven and twelve year old daughters Amanda and Brittany, respectively, had just moved into a modest mansion on a cul-de-sac of five modest to immodest mansions, two of which (including ours) had guest houses and tennis courts and the other three of which had backyard Infinity swimming pools. While I make good money as a free-lance software developer the purchase of the modest mansion was possible only because of Cheryl's high-paying, high-stress, high-level job as COO of a Fortune 1000 company despite her relatively young age of thirty seven, a year older than I was.
I was apprehensive about moving onto Brighton Court figuring that all of the residents would either be much older, nasty, or snobby. Fortunately I was dead wrong. All four other families on Brighton Court had parents between thirty two (the aforesaid Gina) and fifty, and at least two teenage kids. Also they were warm, friendly, intelligent, and engaging. Also nine of the ten adults, and all of the teens, were in good physical condition. There was only one problem with Brighton Court - the aforementioned Gina.
It wasn't that Gina wasn't nice - she was kind, considerate, and friendly. It's just that I could barely talk or act normal around her because every time I looked at her, or she stared at my tented pants with her haunting dichromatic eyes (one iris brown, the other green), I hallucinated that she was mockingly saying to me "You'd love nothing better than to have your tongue flicking my clitoris as you massaged my ass while I sucked your cock, wouldn't you, you perverted bastard."
I don't think that Gina had the same effect on all males; the three other men on Brighton Court besides me and Gina's husband William (the oldest and only out-of-shape person on Brighton Court) didn't seem to be tongue-tied around her, nor did they tent their pants when interacting with her. Of course I never asked any of them "Does Gina seem to be the most fuckable woman in the world?" I kept my thoughts and questions to myself.
It made it especially difficult for me around Brighton Court because I had to interact with Gina all of the time. She was the stepmother to and had adopted William's two daughters, Chelsea and Courtney, who were the same age as Amanda and Brittany and who became their best friends. While Gina was their stepmother (William's first wife had died) she was really the only mother that they remembered and she wholehearted loved them and they her.
Not only did I have to regularly interact with Gina because her daughters were besties with mine, but because William and Cheryl both travelled so much on business that they were gone at least three nights a week, and usually four or five, while Gina, who is an event planner, and I could basically work from home so we were around Brighton Court more than any other parents.
After about two years I eventually learned to cope with being around Gina without making a complete (just a partial) fool of myself, including by wearing a jock strap when I knew that I would be around her so as to keep my cock from obviously saluting. Also, I learned never to approach her if I thought that she was swimming in her pool, or working outside in her garden, because seeing her dressed in a bikini or Daisy Dukes sent me reeling and darn near comatose.
***************
When Amanda and Chelsea were thirteen, and Brittany and Courtney were fourteen, they all played on the same travel softball team, along with another fourteen year old girl on the block, Samantha. I saw almost all of their games, along with Gina and Samantha's mother Marcia; Cheryl saw exactly one, William none. Anyway, the team had a tournament a three hour drive away and predictably Cheryl and William were out-of-town on business. The girls left Friday afternoon on a bus, and Marcia had arranged for her and her husband Jack, Gina, and me to travel by car later that afternoon. We would stay over-night in a hotel in the town where the tournament was being held, the rooms there for the parents already having been reserved. I offered to drive planning on putting Jack in front with me and Gina and Marcia in the back seat so that I didn't have to look at Gina's killer thighs or have her stare into my soul and stir my lascivious thoughts.
Goddamn Jack slipped and fell on his patio and broke his leg about an hour before we were to leave, and Marcia had to take him to the emergency room. She called Gina, who relayed the message to me that only Gina and I would be travelling by car together to the tournament. I started sweating like a pig and my mind was in turmoil; I had worked hard to avoid one-on-one contact with Gina as much as I could and now I had a three hour drive with just her and me. I did have enough wherewithal to put on a jock strap in the hopes that my certain boner wouldn't be too visible and did some deep breathing exercises to control my angst the best that I could.
I wasn't sure that my jock strap or breathing exercises would help when I went to pick Gina up. She was wearing a short skirt, halter top, and flip-flops, and just enough eye shadow to enhance the dynamism of her already bewitching eyes.
And so began my car trip with the most sultry woman I had ever seen.
***********
The first hour or so of the car ride was close to bearable, as long as I didn't stare at Gina's thighs, at least one of which was always clearly visible as she put a bare foot on the console. Then she got a call on her cellphone. She basically said "hi," "no shit," "we're about ninety minutes away," "no problem," and "we'll cope," to the person on the other end of the call, and then chuckled as she terminated it.
"Who was that?" I asked.
"Carol," she replied. Carol is the assistant coach of the softball team and the person who handles all travel arrangements.
"What did she have to say?" I inquired.
"I'll tell you later," she snickered, with an evil grin on her face, and then changed the subject.
After another uncomfortable hour, during which I was sweating from nervous anxiety as Gina's thighs looked more and more delicious to me, the entire tenor of the conversation changed, and not for the better as far as my ability to cope was concerned. The best that my muddled brain can recall it went something like this:
"I've had a question that I've wanted to ask you almost since we first met, Blake. I hope you'll answer it honestly because if you don't I'll know you're lying and then beat the truth out of you (chuckle, chuckle)."
"Uh...OK...I guess..." I winced more than chuckled.
"Why does a normally intelligent, with-it, dude like yourself act like a bumbling idiot when you're around me?"
"Uh...well...uh...what makes, uh, you think that I'm not, uh, inept all of the time?"
"Because I've seen you interact with other people when you're not staring at me, because I know that you're really good at your job and interacting with your customers - I've overheard you on the phone many times when picking up Amanda or Brittany - and because both your and my daughters say that you're the funniest most engaging guy they know and eventually they want a husband just like you," she snickered.