Making the Right Choice
By Alex Barton
Gina
Gina Hendry was kneeling on a rubber mat pulling up weeds when the garden gate opened and she saw the smiling face of Bridgeford's vicar, the Reverend Chris Grey. A tall, handsome man, popular with his congregation and particularly popular with both the married and unmarried women in the parish, Reverend Grey waved to Gina and asked, "May I come in?"
"Of course, Vicar," Gina said, getting to her feet. "Come on in; I was just thinking about making a cup of tea. Actually you're in luck, I have a coffee and walnut cake I bought at the Church Bazaar last Sunday."
"That sounds perfect," he said and followed Gina through the door.
Gina was wearing one of her late husband's old cotton shirts, tied under her large, heavy breasts, and a pair of blue denim shorts she had hacked down from a pair of jeans. She loved that they were scandalously small, revealing much of her plump bottom and disappearing into the lips of her pussy in a clearly visible cameltoe. After closing the door Gina's eyes met those of the vicar and her cunt, barely covered by the shorts, flooded with her cream making her pussy lips luscious in preparation for being fucked.
Chris Grey bent and put his arms round Gina, his lips meeting hers in a passionate kiss. She reached up and threaded her fingers in his hair, her breasts heaving against his chest as she fought for breath, overwhelmed by the intensity of her lust for the man whose hands were already reaching down to take hold of the cheeks of her ass, fondling their soft, plush flesh with his fingers.
They stood, their lips locked together, their tongues dueling, Gina grinding her breasts against the vicar's jacket sending thrills of arousal from her prominent nipples deep into her cunt, the length and thickness of Chris's cock pressing hard against the bulge of Gina's mons. Only seconds away from being fucked, Gina still gently disengaged herself, smiling as she saw the expression of frustrated desire on the handsome vicar's face.
"Tea, cake and
then
bed, Chris," she said gently. "I want your mouth between my legs, your cock in my pussy and then my ass. I want to be fucked and buggered, Chris, but not as a horny bitch but in my bed so we can take our time. Is that okay?"
"Of course, Gina," the vicar said, smiling at her ruefully. "But you can't blame a chap for being impatient when you're dressed like that..."
"What, these old rags?" she said, laughing happily at the effect her clothes had on the vicar's very obviously fully aroused prick. "Just something I threw on this morning after I'd spent an hour fucking myself silly with the biggest vibrator you ever saw. No substitute for your cock, I know, but then you weren't with me so I had to imagine what we'd be doing together when you
were
..."
"You're a wanton woman, you know that?" Chris Grey said, wiping a hand across his face in mock exasperation. "You tempt this poor, benighted man of God into wicked ways..."
"Such as you sucking your cum out of my anus after you've filled it to overflowing which you love to do every time you bugger me?" Gina laughed and Chris put his hands together as if praying.
"God deliver me from this sinful woman," he said, a big grin on his face.
"That is, after she's drained my balls until I can't walk," Gina finished his sentence with a soft purr and walked into the kitchen to make tea while the vicar made his way through to the living room.
*
Several weeks earlier Gina bent and picked up a handful of earth in her gloved hand and dropped it onto the lid of the coffin six feet below her. She glanced across at the Reverend Grey who had conducted her husband's funeral service and nodded, indicating her thanks and that she intended to leave. He smiled and nodded in return, letting his eyes drop to her deep cleavage exposed by the low-cut top she was wearing.
She had chosen the top to be deliberately inappropriate for the funeral as was her tight, too-short skirt that finished only just below the plump rondures of her buttocks and highlighted her long, shapely legs. As far as Gina was concerned, wearing a black hat and dark glasses to Roger's funeral was as much mourning as she intended to do.
The wake was almost as uncomfortable as the funeral. Held in the Lounge Bar of the Bridgeford Arms, Gina heard the thrum of conversation before she entered, took off her hat and waved to her youngest son James who promptly walked across and handed her a drink. James had agreed to escort his mother round the room, helping her find diplomatic ways to respond to the platitudes she had to endure while they both fortified themselves with blindingly strong vodka-martinis.
Gina's husband Roger, father of James and his older brother Hugh who was still in southern Spain where he and James owned and managed upmarket holiday properties, had died from a heart attack while engaged in athletic intercourse with his secretary in a hotel just around the corner from his office in central London. Gina knew her husband had a voracious sexual appetite when she married him but, perhaps naïvely, she thought she would be able to keep him satisfied.
When it became clear no one woman ever could, she made a bargain with him that he would keep her in the style to which she had become accustomed, take an active interest in raising their two sons, and be as discreet in his
affaires
as possible. The only problem was that discretion had been blown to hell when Roger's death made the late edition of the London evening newspaper so everyone in the village knew exactly what had happened.
Excusing herself to freshen her makeup in the ladies, Gina's heart sank when she emerged to see Jack Carson, Roger's frequent golfing partner, standing in the corridor waiting for her.
"Hello Jack," Gina said, reaching for the drink she had left balanced on a radiator outside the toilet. She wondered if Jack would make a sarcastic remark about Roger's philandering; Gina assumed he knew about all of Roger's many conquests because the two men compared notes in the bar at the golf club. She felt a deep bitterness that Jack probably knew every detail of Roger's extramarital intercourse with his secretary where she had known nothing.
"I wanted to say I'm sorry, Gina," Jack said. "Not so much for Roger's passing because we were never really close, but for the embarrassment you must be feeling."
Gina was about to thank him when Jack suddenly put his hand up on the wall next to her head which allowed him to both lean in close and effectively hold her in place.
"Why ever did you stay with that sleazeball, Gina?" he asked in a quiet voice. "You've always been worth so much more. You're a beautiful, desirable woman and all you had to do was give me a word or sign of encouragement and I'd have satisfied your
every
need."
"And how would you have done that, Jack?" Gina said, lifting her face toward his. "Made sure you were walking your dog past my house just as Roger left for work? Rung and pretended it was a wrong number if Roger answered the phone? Aren't we a bit old for clandestine assignations?"
"Gina, you can't tell me there aren't times when a sexually frustrated woman longs for a good hard fuck," Jack murmured, leaning close to kiss her which she avoided by deliberately turning away.
"Cheeky bastard," Gina said, smiling only to be polite. "How do you know I wasn't getting it somewhere else like Roger was, twice a day and three times on Sundays?"
"He'd have told me," Roger purred. "He told me every detail of what he did to whom and in which hole..."
Gina grimaced with distaste and said, "Excuse me, I need my drink," and Jack let his arm drop so she could reach across. She could tell he was about to lean toward her again when her son's voice made both Gina and Jack turn toward him.
"You alright, Mum?" James asked, walking toward Jack purposefully. Jack moved back, pulling the lapels of his jacket together in a protective gesture. Gina saw an expression of fear cross his face and thought, 'Good. Serves him right, the slimy bastard'.
"Of course, darling," she said and moved across to James, slipping her arm through his. "But I definitely need another vodka-martini." She turned her back on Jack who disappeared into the men's restroom. As she followed her son she stretched up and whispered in his ear, "Thank god the cavalry arrived."
"Just in time by the looks of things," James said, a set expression on his face.
"Oh Jack's harmless," Gina said to reassure him. "A lecher, yes, but nothing I can't handle. Now let's mingle and then say our goodbyes. I've had enough of pretending to be sorry your father's passed away."
"Yes," James said and nodded his head. Gina knew both he and Hugh had been no fonder of their father than she was. "Me too."
*
After the funeral, Gina decided she was not up to cooking and ordered a meal to be home-delivered. James opened the fridge and took out a bottle of white wine and they drank it together, Gina listening with interest to how her two sons were getting on in Spain.
"Mum, why don't you think seriously about selling this place and coming out to live with us?" James said, walking through to the living room after they'd eaten and sitting on the sofa opposite his mother.
