The Making Of A Gigolo 14 Erica BradfordChapter 24
- 1 year ago
- 8
- 0
The Making Of A Gigolo (14) - Erica BradfordChapter 16 free porn video
Will sat stiffly in his seat. He wasn’t sure it had been a good idea at all to go with Christy. He felt a little like he’d been ambushed, though it didn’t bring the fear and helpless feeling he usually associated with that concept. She had sat beside him during the whole show, and had leaned toward him a number of times to make a soft comment about a scene or performance. At intermission she had brought back a plate of cookies, and had asked him if he needed to be pushed anywhere. He knew she was talking about the bathroom, but he had learned to go light on fluids whenever he was going to be out like this, and declined.
He couldn’t figure out what she was doing. He thought at first that it was pity, but she didn’t act like she felt pity for him. She just talked to him, saying whatever was on her mind. During the last quarter of the show he had started doing the same thing. It had just seemed normal to respond in kind.
Then, as he hopped up to join the standing ovation, and her hand came to his elbow while she whistled, of all things. When it finally died down and people began to leave, she had leaned over and said, “I’d like some ice cream. You want some too?”
She’d snuck up on him. He’d said “Yes,” before he could think about it.
Now they were parked at the Dairy Bee and she was at the window, ordering for them. His chair was in the back seat. Once he’d told her where to push, and it began to fold, she’d muscled it into the back, letting him get himself into the car.
It was like she gave him only as much help as he absolutely needed, and nothing more. That was strange. She was strange. She didn’t act like other women did when they saw him, and he didn’t know how to act with her.
She came back with a banana split and a large cup of something. He’d said he liked chocolate, when she’d asked him what he wanted. She got in and handed him the cup. She’d thought of the fact that he couldn’t eat anything with a spoon, unless someone held the dish for him.
She ate in silence for a while, as he took little sips of a rich chocolate shake. That was another thing that confused him. She didn’t talk nonstop to fill the uneasy silence. People usually either said nothing to him at all, or talked all the time, as if they were proving they could interact with a freakish monster and make it appear to be normal. But her silence wasn’t the horrified stiff attempt to ignore the monster. It was as if she just didn’t have anything to say in particular at the moment.
“I love ice cream,” she sighed. “I know it will make me fat, but I love it.”
“You’re not fat,” he said.
“Not now,” she said. “But if I ate ice cream as often as I want to I would be.” She took another bite. “I’ll have to add a mile or two tomorrow just to work this off.”
“A mile or two?”
“I walk,” she said. “It’s an old habit that I just got used to. I do a couple of miles a day, usually.”
“It works,” he said. He wondered why he’s said that.
“I do believe you’re flirting with me,” she laughed.
He was astonished, both by her laughter, which sounded like she was genuinely happy, and by the thought that she could even begin to consider that if the monster flirted with her ... that wasn’t something to scream about. It was too much. He couldn’t take it.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked.
“I told you, I love ice cream.”
“I mean me. Why did you bring me here?”
“I asked you if you wanted ice cream too, and you said yes.” This time her tone didn’t sound quite so genuine.
“You know what I mean,” he said.
“I don’t know,” she said. That sounded uncomfortable.
“I don’t want pity,” he said. It was his mantra.
“I can’t help but feel some of that,” she said. “Nobody could look at your situation and avoid that.” The way she said it made pity sound like a natural consequence of being human. “I think I feel guilty, a little bit.”
“Guilty?”
“About my ex husband.”
“Oh.”
“And I like you.”
“Huh?” He was astonished again. “You don’t even know me.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” she asked. “Aren’t we getting to know one another?”
“You’re beautiful,” he moaned.
“Thank you,” she said.
“I mean you could have any man you wanted.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, big boy,” said Christy. “I said I like you. That doesn’t mean I’m ready to hop into bed with you or anything.”
He was speechless. This was insane. He had to be dreaming. She was talking to him like he was just a normal guy, who had pushed things maybe a little too far and she was reining him in. But he wasn’t a normal guy. He’d never be normal again. That was why he didn’t feel bad about wanting his sister. That wasn’t normal ... but then he wasn’t either ... not anymore.
“I’m not shopping for a man,” she went on. “Can’t I just like you for who you are?”
“I don’t know who I am,” he said.
“Well then, maybe we can find out together.”
She had kept him off his mental balance when she asked him if it would be all right if they picked up her daughter from the sitter’s, before she took him home. The girl, named Jillian, stared at him like any normal child would, both fascinated and repelled. Christy, to deal with that, had just had him tell her daughter what had happened to make him look this way.
“I bet that hurt,” said the little girl.
“Yeah, it did,” he said.
“Did anybody kiss it and make it better?” asked the girl, in her innocence.
“Yeah,” he said, thinking of the nurses, and Erica. “They did.”
She invited him to have coffee at her house. She didn’t mind all the extra effort it took to get him in there. He hopped up the steps while Jillian watched, and then she attempted to do the same thing ... on two feet instead of one. It was the first time he’d felt more or less normal for as long as he could remember.
He’d told her Erica might be wondering where he was, and she’d said they’d call once they got inside. When no one answered the phone, she said she’d try again later.
They talked for another hour and a half, sipping coffee. Of all the things they talked about, the war never came up. Nor did his physical condition.
When she stopped in his driveway, with the passenger door next to the ramp, he twisted in the seat.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” she said back.
“No, I mean it,” he said. “Nobody’s treated me like you did tonight in a long time.”
“All I did was take you out for ice cream,” she said.
“You know what I mean,” he said. “You treated me like I was just a normal guy.”
“Isn’t there still just a normal guy inside that body?” she asked.
“I just don’t get it,” he sighed.
“Don’t feel bad,” she said, getting his chair out of the back. “I don’t either. How about we just try and act normal, and see what happens.”
Erica drove up while Christy was pushing him up the ramp. She got out and ran to unlock the door. She hadn’t thought to give Will a key, since the only time he ever went anywhere she was with him.
“Hi,” she panted. “Sorry I wasn’t here. Bobby took me to get a root beer float and the time just slipped by.”
Christy stood back to let Will’s sister take over.
“Bobby took you out?” she asked. There was something in her voice that made Erica’s mental ears stand up, like there was more to hear, but it was too far away or too soft. “Well, well, well,” she added.
“Now what does that mean?” Erica wondered.
“I’d love to stay and talk with you about that,” said Christy, “but I left my daughter sleeping and I need to get back. Can I borrow your brother again sometime?”
Erica was completely off balance, both because this woman had whisked Will away after the show, and because she appeared to be interested in him, at least on some casual basis that Erica had no frame of reference to compare to.
“Of course,” she said, more because that was the expected response than because she meant it.
“Thanks, Will,” said Christy. “I had a good time.”
Then she was off to her car, leaving brother and sister both looking after her.
Erica was worried about going to bed together again. Some of that was because she was afraid he’d have another flashback. The rest of it was because she couldn’t stop thinking about that penis, nudging between those slippery labia.
Will took the flashback excuse away from her.
“I’m awake now,” he said. “That won’t happen again.”
He sat on the bed as she undressed, and she felt the now familiar zing of excitement as his eyes devoured each inch of skin she bared to him. She felt the urge to squeeze her nipples before she even had her panties off. She got him onto the bed first, with the covers pulled down so that she could reach for them when they were needed. She crawled onto the bed carefully, still nervous about touching him.
“Would you ... suck me again?” he asked, breathlessly.
Her mind whirled back to what that had been like. His penis had felt so completely foreign in her mouth. And yet, at the same time, it had felt like it was made to fit there. She remembered the smooth tight feel of the head, and the softer, more malleable skin on the shaft. She hadn’t thought about taste, until it was suddenly there, in her mouth, a mixture of something musky, a little bitter, but not in an unpleasant way. It was just a hint of taste at first and she had pulled her mouth off as if looking at it would give her some clue. It had, actually. As she’d watched, a little bubble of something mostly clear had seeped out of the hole in the tip. She had seen that hole spread as ropes of white froth leap out of it many times. But, she’d never thought about it having a taste before. In the film, the woman had opened her mouth, while the men masturbated into it. She clearly remembered almost throwing up at the sight of that, and feeling like the woman couldn’t possibly be debased any further.
But having her mouth on Will just didn’t feel like that. His moans of joy were so heartfelt that she couldn’t think of what she was doing as debasement at all. It was just loving him with her mouth instead of her hand. The taste that had flooded her mouth as he gasped and cried out had been like his offering of thanks, rather than some sexist ritual.
Now, as she got onto her hands and knees, to stare down at his already-hard shaft, she actually licked her lips in anticipation of both the texture of it in her mouth and the taste. The first sensation of the smooth knob sliding through her lips made her feel that if she didn’t pull her nipples hard, she’d just die. One hand shot between her legs, to dig into the tunnel there.
His hand came up to smooth over her butt cheek and the sound she made of appreciation was transmitted to his penis, and he jerked, driving it deeply enough into her throat that she gagged. She pulled off and coughed.
“Not so rough,” she whined.
“Sorry,” he panted. “You wouldn’t believe how good that feels, Erica.”
She had no frame of reference for that, so she just concentrated on the feel of his penis in her mouth. As a girl, one of her favorite treats had been a Tootsie Roll Pop and she treated the knob like it was one of those, sucking at it and pushing it around in her mouth with her tongue.
She felt his hand slide down the back of her thigh, then reach to slide up inside. His hand ran into hers, where her finger was slicing in and out of her sex. Unconsciously, she realized he was trying to help her, and without thinking about it, she raised one knee. Had she been standing and watching this, she would have sneered that the woman looked like a male dog, taking a leak, but she wasn’t watching ... she was feeling. By the time her conscious mind realized what he was doing down there ... and how she was accommodating him ... his long middle finger was firmly embedded in her, as deep as he could get it.
His finger was thicker than hers, and longer too. The feeling of it was so strange that she stopped sucking, shocked that when someone else did that, it felt so completely different. Then the base of his finger ground into her clitty and she thought the top of her head would fly off. The next thing she thought of was that ... if his finger felt that good in her ... something even bigger ... like what was in her mouth ... would feel that much better.
Erica Bradford’s virginity was spared that night by another combination of what Erica would have called bizarre circumstances. About the time she was thinking of trying to see what something thicker and longer might feel like in her vagina, the thing she was contemplating using flooded her mouth with flavor. His hips jerked again and his pubic hair hit her nose, as his penis was driven deeper than it had ever gone. It went past her gag reflex so quickly that she only registered a feeling of something stretching her throat, like she’d swallowed something without chewing, and it was stuck. While it was there it belched again. She couldn’t taste it, that deep, but she could feel it, and the choking sensation caused her to jerk her head up. Again, her gag reflex was slipped past, and she concentrated on swallowing and breathing.
The next thing she was aware of was that something was beating against her clit. Her consciousness floated downwards, where his finger was going in and out of her rapidly. Each time it went in, there was an electric shock as her clit was punched. Unable to wait any longer, she fell sideways, landing awkwardly on her right shoulder, so that she could use both hands on her nipples.
She grabbed, squeezed, pulled hard ... and had an orgasm that was so intense she forgot to breathe for a full seven seconds. Again, had she been watching all this, she would have sneered at the woman who sounded like some king of alley cat, howling at the moon.
By the time she got her breath back, and had enough energy to turn herself around and lay her head on Will’s good arm and shoulder, the urge to impale herself on his penis had passed.
The next day the performance for the school assembly in the auditorium went well. There were elements in this musical that appealed to teenagers ... the magic of a town that disappears ... unrequited love ... and the lustiness of Meg trying to bed Jeff on the cot in the forest.
Then, that night, with a mostly different crowd, there was another performance that they would call perfect. By now the cast was on cloud nine. It was a Friday night, and nobody had to get up and do anything the next morning, so they all went out together after the show. Someone had thought ahead, because the Wagon Wheel was open late. Sal had been making pizza pies all evening, in anticipation of something like this. On the chance that the kids wouldn’t show, he figured he could just freeze them and use them later, but the crowd that descended on his diner had ten people in each eight person booth, and people sitting on other people’s laps at the tables.
Miracle
- 25.02.2021
- 9
- 0
The Making Of A Gigolo 14 Erica BradfordChapter 19
- 1 year ago
- 8
- 0
The Making Of A Gigolo 14 Erica BradfordChapter 8
- 2 years ago
- 9
- 0
