The Making Of A Gigolo 8 Felicity ChumleyChapter 2
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The Making Of A Gigolo (8) - Felicity ChumleyChapter 6 free porn video
She bought him two suits, a sport jacket, ten shirts of various hues, and five ties. It was the kind of place that could do the alterations in the same day, for the right amount of money. She took him to another store, while the alterations were being done, and got him four pair of casual slacks off the rack, and two more shirts.
“I thought this deal was only two days,” he said.
“Yes,” she said, in shopping mode now, and easily able to ignore his tug. “But there will be three nights. We arrive one evening, and will probably go out that night. Then there’s the first day of the reunion, and we’ll go out that night for sure. The second day is really for those who couldn’t make it on the first day. We’ll be too tired to drive home, so we’ll go out that night and then come home the next morning. So it’s three nights and two days, in all.”
“Oh,” he said. “Sounds like fun. Where do you suppose we’ll go out at night?”
“That will all depend on the people who are there,” she said. “They may want to go to a club, or to an Opera, perhaps, or maybe there will just be a party somewhere. We won’t know that until it happens. That’s why I’m getting you a range of clothing. We want to be prepared for anything.”
“Well, then we have more shopping to do,” he said. “For you too, I’m guessing.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked, holding a pullover shirt up to his chest.
“One of the big scenes these days is Country and Western dancing. I’ve got clothes at home I could wear for that, but they’re not new. I doubt you have anything to wear to something like that.”
“I wouldn’t know how to dance at a place like that,” she said.
“Well, then,” he said. “While you’re teaching me how to go to an opera, I’ll teach you how to two step.”
He had tried on dozens of outfits for her, and come out of dressing rooms dozens of times. She had looked at him with professionally critical eyes, looking for the things that made an outfit look right or wrong on him. Now it was her turn to come out of a dressing room, wearing what he had picked out for her.
“This is ridiculous,” she said, pulling the curtain apart and sticking only her face out.
“Come on,” he said, grinning.
“You’re teasing me,” she said. “You don’t actually expect me to wear this.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Let’s see it.”
She came out in a lavender, sequined tank top, over a jeans skirt with fringe on the hem, which only came to mid thigh. He’d picked purple cowboy boots, and a hat to match. She looked fabulous. The tank top clung to her breasts like skin, and her legs were superb.
“I approve,” he said.
“Of course you do,” she said. “You can probably see the freckles on my boobs, this thing is so tight. And if I bent over, you could see my panties!”
“That’s why you aren’t supposed to wear panties with that outfit,” he said calmly.
She blushed bright red. “Okay, buster, you’ve had your fun. Now, get me a real outfit!”
He ended up getting her a doeskin shirt that had built in cups for the breasts to go in, but didn’t amount to a bra. That’s because the back was all held together by strings, that basically showed a bare back. The dark maroon skirt went to just above the knee, but the hem was weighted so that if she spun, it would rise and show whatever she was wearing under it. He didn’t tell her that part. He kept the hat and boots, though. They went with the skirt and top.
“There’s no back to this thing,” she complained from inside the dressing room.
“It’s all the rage in Western dance clubs,” he said, lying through his teeth. He had no idea what the rage was. He knew how to two step, and that was it. This outfit had been in the “Dancing Clothing” section, and he thought she’d look good in it, so that’s what he picked up.
“I can’t wear a bra with this,” she complained.
“It has one built in,” he said.
“Yes, but it won’t hold me still.”
“And your point is?” he said, laughing.
Her face came through the curtain again.
“My point is that I’ll jiggle like Jell-O!”
“That, my dear, is exactly what I’m going for.” He grinned. “I want every man who didn’t beg you to marry him in High School to rue the day he let you get past him. I want every man who sees you to get a stomach ache, thinking that, had he been just a bit smarter, he could be the one you’re going to the hotel with that night. I want you to destroy them all. I’ll ogle their women, of course, just so they don’t feel left out.”
“You’re horrible,” she said, feeling the flush of pleasure his words had brought to her. He sounded passionate about wanting her to look sexy. It made her want to look sexy too. “If you’re sure ... I’ll get it ... but if I’m the only one dressed like this, we’re leaving.”
“I’m sure,” he said firmly. It would be worth it if the only place he got to see her in it was in the hotel room.
She came out, dressed in her traveling clothes, and handed the other items to the clerk, telling her to bag them up.
“Now,” she said. “We’ll need a swim suit for you. Do you have one?”
“At our place, if you go swimming in the pond, you’re skinny dipping,” he said.
She put her hands on her hips, looked him up and down, and took him to another store. She had him try on ten different suits. It wasn’t until the fifth one that he figured out she just liked looking at his bare chest and legs. She finally settled on the tightest one.
“That’s the one,” she said.
He looked down. He could see the outline of his prick in it, and the swell of his balls below that.
“You’re kidding,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
“The girls will just die when they see that. We definitely have to go swimming.”
“So, is it my turn to ogle you in a dozen swim suits?” he asked.
“No,” she said lightly. “I already have one.” She turned to the clerk, who was female, and who had had just as much fun watching Bobby model swim suits as Felicity admitted to herself she’d had. “We’ll take that one,” she said.
“Do you need any help getting it off, Sir?” asked the girl.
“He’ll do just fine by himself,” snapped Felicity. “Besides, if anybody helps him, it would be me. We’re married!”
The girl rolled her eyes, as if to say “Sure you are, honey, and I’m Dolly Parton,” and went back to her work. That look was not lost on Felicity.
Back in the car she said so. “She didn’t believe we’re married,” she said, worriedly.
“I saw her checking out your ring, and then my hand,” said Bobby. “I’ll need a wedding band.”
“Of course!” said Felicity, feeling a little better.
“And, we have a lot more work to do to get to that comfortable place happily married people are in.” Bobby looked at her to see her reaction. She had relaxed, while shopping, but had tensed up when she claimed to be married to him.
She looked over at him. Now that they weren’t shopping, he affected her again. She was amazed that she could have looked at him so much, and been so unaffected in the stores, but that now that he was just sitting there, the butterflies were back in her stomach.
The suits were ready. By the time they were in the trunk, it was full. They stopped at a burger joint, and ate, while he told her a little about his own childhood, and then they headed back to Granger. Once there, she said she’d place his things in a guest room. The plan was for him to stay at the mansion for three days before they left for Kansas City. That would get them both used to seeing each other all day long.
Nothing was said about the nights.
That night, in his own room at the farm, Linda visited him again. She didn’t even try to hide the fact that she was trying to get him in her again. The first time, though, had been by accident, and she couldn’t figure out how she’d done it. Bobby didn’t help her, until she got frustrated.
“You’re sure you want this?” he asked, softly.
“Yes,” she moaned.
He rolled her over. With Linda, he wanted to be in control, for some reason. He laid her knees on top of his shoulders, leaving her helpless and bent in half. Her pussy was perfectly aligned for his prick, when he slotted the head between her pussy lips. She was wet, from all her playing and trying. To ease what he knew would be discomfort, at best, and pain, at worst, he bent down and sucked hard on a nipple as he slowly pushed her full of prick. She made grunting sounds, mixed with moans. She’d only had two inches in her before, when it was fully hard, and now she was skewered.
Once inside her, he stopped. In this position, his prick didn’t hit her clitty, and he had to use both hands to support them. He knew that while it felt wonderful for him, she might not be able to cum this way. As he felt her tightness begin to relax, he gave an experimental withdrawal and shove, and she yipped and panted. He did it again, and the look on her face told him all he needed to know.
Slowly, he started withdrawing almost all the way, and then sliding back in. Her round eyes, and panting puffs of stuttering breathing said she was feeling things she wasn’t quite prepared for. Speeding up seemed to rob her of the ability to speak, and she gasped for air, her hands banging on the bed beside her hips. When he started moving really fast, she started whining. It was getting louder and louder, so he bent her further and, using just his abdominal muscles, began short jackrabbit in and out thrusts, while he covered her mouth with his.
It was her cries into his mouth that told him she was, indeed, having an orgasm. This position was hard on him, so his mindset changed and he went after his own release. As she wound down, he finally pushed in deep, getting a grunting hiss from her, and bathed her cervix with hot spunk. Her kisses became almost frantic as she felt the heat, deep in her belly, and her hands came to pull his face to hers.
They froze there, with her bent over, and his weight holding her. When he was sure he’d dribbled his last into her, he moved back. She took a huge breath of air as her lungs were allowed to inflate. He stayed in her, but moved her legs off his shoulders. Then he grasped her hips and lifted them, pulling her against him, as he rocked back to sit on his calves. Her hips ended up off the bed and resting on his thighs.
“What ... are you ... doing?” she panted.
“Holding you up, so my sperm goes in your womb,” he said.
“Why?” she huffed.
“So that, if your pills don’t work, I’ll get you pregnant,” he said, grinning.
“You want ... to get me ... pregnant?” she panted, her eyes opening wide.
“Sure do,” he said. He let her butt back down on the bed and, still inside her, leaned down to kiss her again. “I want to give my baby sister a big, round belly, just like Mamma’s.”
The response wasn’t quite what he’d intended. What he’d intended was for her to think about how dangerous this was, whether she was on the pill or not. Nothing worked a hundred percent of the time, and she needed to understand that. What he got, was another frantic kiss, as the idea of looking like her mother made Linda almost want to do that.
She thought her mother’s pregnant belly was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
For the next week Bobby spent most of each day at the Chumley residence. He was a big hit with the staff members, particularly Annie, who was unmarried, and just as susceptible to Bobby’s charms as most other women seemed to be. At one point, it was a bone of contention between Bobby and Felicity.
“You’re being cruel to her,” Felicity said, as they sat at a table outside, sipping fruit juice.
“How?” asked Bobby.
“She has a crush on you, and you flirt with her and tease her all the time. That’s not kind, when she’ll never get a chance to take it any further.” Felicity’s voice was chiding.
“Who says she’ll never get a chance?” asked Bobby. “I think she’s a sweet girl, who deserves some fun in life.”
Felicity felt the same thing she’d been feeling lately, when one of Bobby’s “other women” came up in conversation. It irked her no end that she was jealous of Bobby’s attentions to other women. She was still trying to convince herself that nothing would ever happen between them. That she was having to convince herself at all was also unsettling.
“You can’t play with her emotions like that!” said Felicity, frowning.
“I wouldn’t play with her emotions,” said Bobby. “I’d just make love to her and make her happy.”
“You can not just go around making love with my staff!” yipped Felicity.
“If we were actually married, I’d agree with you,” he said, grinning. “But we’re not.” He reached out and touched her hand. “Though we are getting better at acting like it. At least in my opinion.”
His fingertips on her hand made Felicity want to pull it away. That was something he’d been doing all week ... touching her. It wasn’t anything obvious or lewd. He touched her elbow, or took her hand, briefly, as they walked side by side in the garden. He had a maddening tendency to wipe her lips for her, when they were snacking on something. It wasn’t that she found his touch distasteful. Quite the opposite. That was the problem. Twice she had taken his hand, while walking. She’d let go immediately, but it was very troublesome.
Her husband wasn’t helping either. Every night, he asked her how things had gone, while he stroked her and brought her to orgasm. The trouble was that he made her talk about Bobby, while he did that. She tried to tell herself it was only natural, under these circumstances, to think about Bobby’s hands doing what Chester’s hands were doing. It was getting so she didn’t even want her own husband to make love to her!
She’d never thought of herself as a “hot-blooded” woman. Now, all day long, and at night, in bed with her husband, she kept thinking of sexual things. It was enough to drive even a strong woman to do strange things.
Such as what she’d done recently, at dinner one evening. Ramona seemed to take particular delight in serving them different dishes, as if they were eating in a restaurant, and had ordered different things from the menu. She said it was because that’s how it would be on the trip, but more than once Annie, while blushing and serving him, said, “Ramona made this especially for you.”
On that night, she’d wanted, for some reason, to taste his food. When he found out, he actually fed her with his own fork! And she’d found herself suddenly putting her fork in his mouth, while he went on and on about how good it was. Watching him just eat, after that, had gotten her so horny that she’d welcomed Chester’s hands on her body, later that night.
It got so bad that she told him to take Saturday and Sunday off ... to spend time with his family, she said.
Stevie
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