The Making Of A Gigolo 8 Felicity ChumleyChapter 2
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Felicity didn’t think about the possible consequences of their actions for three more days, in fact. As far as she was concerned, the reunion was a fabulous success. All her girlfriends ooed and ahhed over her handsome husband, and her good fortune in marrying a man who became wealthy. Two asked to borrow him, and she was both horrified and elated by their obvious lust for Bobby.
Once she had drunk from Bobby’s well, she was continually thirsty. Even after he took her so roughly that first time, once she’d had half an hour to recuperate, she needed him again. When, this time, he was so gentle and caring, bringing her to her pinnacle slowly and whispering how much he loved doing this with her, she cried tears of happiness. She woke up horny, and he made love to her for an hour. For the rest of the day she was almost always in a state of horny anticipation for the next time she might be able to sip, or drink deeply.
That day she sipped repeatedly, taking him back to the hotel between events to change clothes, and always ending up spread on the couch, or on the bed, and once taken from behind as he bent her over a chair. His inventiveness astonished her. That night he took her standing up, but didn’t finish, and didn’t let her finish either, pulling out to coax her into the Jacuzzi in the room, where he had her straddle him, and let her ride herself to two orgasms, while he suckled at her nipples.
That, it turned out, was only the appetizer. When they went to bed, he made it last for forty minutes, bringing her close, and then stopping to spend time kissing her, before starting again. She begged him shamelessly to let her cum, and he did, but then kept going, to stop again when she was ready to cum again. She was, at the same time, frustrated ... eager to have another orgasm as his thick stalk massaged her pussy ... and thankful beyond measure that he was extending her pleasure for so long.
Finally, he let her have three orgasms in a row, and his grunt of completion was music to her ears as she felt him swell and pulse inside her.
The next morning, she knew her pussy had adjusted to him, because, when he pulled her on top of him, she slid down onto him easily. Both sighed with relief, because both had awakened horny. She rode him for half an hour and realized that he had, somehow, taught her to bring herself to the razor’s edge of a hard cum and then stop, to feel a kinder, gentler orgasm wander through her loins, as she lay down on him, or sat still. As it waned, all she had to do was move a little more, and it returned. Instead of having one bone-wrenching orgasm, that lasted twenty seconds, she managed to make a delicious electric tingle last for almost half an hour.
Then he rolled her over, and pinned her to the bed, while his balls pumped her full of thick spunk.
She made herself wait that day, until lunch, to take him back to the hotel and, instead of eating, she rode him again, doing exactly the same thing she’d done that morning ... making it last in a way that extended her pleasure long past when most men would have been worthless.
The closing ceremonies done and, knowing that, the next day, they’d check out and return to Granger, she explored his penis with her eyes, fingers and mouth. She sucked at him, playing with the hard thing, while he settled her pussy onto his mouth and licked her for an hour.
They made love four times that night, sleeping in between. The last time she woke him, he warned her that they had to drive, and she said they’d stay another day, to rest. He laughed and said he hadn’t gotten any rest since coming to the city. She made him be quiet with her lips on his, and tugged and pulled until he slid into her. Once again, he took her to a place she hadn’t known existed, until this trip.
In the morning, though, it was as if both of them knew that the fever had run its course. She woke first, and lay on her side, watching him sleep. She reached out to push his forelock back. When he opened his eyes, she kissed him and they talked.
“I wish it weren’t going to be over,” she said, softly.
“Nothing lasts forever,” he said. “You’ve had a vacation of sorts, and been rejuvenated a little, but they need you back there, and you need to be there for them.”
“Everything will be the same,” she sighed.
“Not at all,” he argued. “Everything will be different.”
“How can that be?” she asked.
“Things have happened to you. You’ve lived some life since going away. They have all lived their lives too. The world has changed, and you’ve changed with it. When you go back everything may look the same. Ramona and Annie will be there, and Chester, and the house. But you’ll see them just a little differently, because you have changed. And, if you look for the changes in them, you’ll see them differently too, just like you were amazed at the changes in your old friends.”
“But I’ll miss you,” she said. She frowned. “I told Chester this would happen.”
“What happened?” he asked.
“I’ve fallen in love with you,” she said. “I told him it would happen, because I couldn’t conceive of being intimate with a man, unless I loved him, and I knew, even then, that I wanted to be intimate with you.”
“You fought it long enough,” he said, grinning and kissing her nose.
“That’s because I didn’t understand ... or believe. I couldn’t understand how Chester could want this for me, and I couldn’t believe that you would offer me something based on what I needed.”
“What changed?” he asked.
“That night, when you said I wasn’t ready. I was furious with you. I felt rejected. But, as soon as I lay down with Chester, I knew you were right ... that I’d have felt guilty. You had given me only what I needed, which was some intimacy that left me with a shred of virtue that was very important to me. You gave me a sip of water, when gulping it would have made me sick.”
“I want to disagree with you on one thing,” he said.
“What?”
“You haven’t fallen in love with me. What you’ve fallen in love with is the ability to share love with me ... to be able to give and take in a way that, before, wasn’t permitted. You still love Chester, don’t you?”
“More, now than ever,” she said firmly.
“Chester is your true love,” he said. “What I am is a good friend, who loves you as a person, and accepts the same love from you. We have made each other happy, these last two days, and that has made us closer than most friends.”
“But I feel like I love you,” she said.
“If Chester died tomorrow, would you think about marrying me?”
She was so used to telling him the truth that it came easily to her. “No,” she said. She felt bad about it instantly.
“Why?” he asked.
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” she said.
“I don’t want to marry you either, Darling,” he said, using the language they had gotten used to over the last seventy-two hours.
She realized he was just being honest too.
“Our lives are too different,” she said. “Our interests are different.” She frowned. “If I could, I’d make love to you every day, but I don’t think of you as a potential husband. Is that strange?”
“I understand completely,” he said. “That’s my point. You do love me, and I love you, but not in the sense that you were afraid of, and that you warned Chester of.”
She blinked. “You’re right!” She looked amazed. “I love you ... but that’s not a threat to anything!”
They talked a little longer and then fell silent. She wanted to make love one more time, because, when she got home, it would be over. But the mood was wrong, and she knew it. They got dressed and went down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast.
Then there was checking out, and getting everything in the car again, before they were finally on the road. She drove, going home, since there was no longer anyone to act for. She wished he could move over to sit beside her, but the Bentley had individual seats in the front.
Bobby was napping, and as she drove along she had time to think about the events of the weekend while her body relaxed in the seat, her unconscious mind handling the requirements of keeping the car in the middle of the lane. She felt a surge of erotic tension as she re-lived various portions of Bobby’s lovemaking. It was then, while she was remembering the warm ball she had felt so often in her belly, as he spurted in her, that she remembered she was a woman, and he was a man, and that one purpose of this activity was to create new life.
Her eyes opened wider in shock. How could she have possibly forgotten that? Her memory kicked into another mode. When was her last period? She hadn’t paid much attention to them ... not for years. They were just an annoyance that came along every so often.
When was it? She actually could not remember! She knew she hadn’t had one in the last two weeks while she was “training” Bobby, but that was all. It probably didn’t matter anyway. One didn’t get pregnant every time one was capable of getting pregnant. That was obvious. The world would be overflowing with children if that were the case. She went back to reflecting on how wonderful Bobby had made her feel. When she got back, Chester would want to know, and this time, she’d be able to tell her husband how happy he’d made her.
She made it within fifteen miles of Granger before she couldn’t take it any longer. She saw a picnic pullout, with a little shelter and two trash barrels. She looked at Bobby, who had awakened when she pulled off the highway.
“Have you ever made love in a Bentley?” she asked.
An hour later, Felicity Chumley pulled onto the pink granite paving stones in front of her home to find her eighty-year-old husband waiting for her with open arms. As she hugged him and kissed him, she said she’d missed him desperately. In that she was completely honest, and he knew it.
She turned to Bobby and pushed his forelock back up, almost a habit now, and thanked him for helping her have a wonderful weekend. Then, right in front of everyone, she kissed Bobby one last time.
Apparently forgetting all about Bobby, she turned to kiss her husband again. She was anxious to take her husband to bed, even though, as she kissed him, she had another man’s sperm soaking into her womb.
She didn’t feel guilty about that either.
It was good that the reunion hadn’t lasted another day, or been scheduled for later than it was. Bobby hadn’t been home for more than three hours when Mirriam’s water broke.
It was the first day of August, and Bobby’s genetic dominance was further punctuated, when, after a labor of only four hours, Mirriam pushed out her second son. He looked like he was the twin of Kyle, or Jordan, or Steven. His hair was coal black and he had a strong chin, even for a baby. His mother took one look at him and knew it was Bobby, and not Ted, who had fathered this child. She would have loved her new son in either case. She was worried about Ted, though. He had been so hopeful. She solved the dilemma by naming her son Theodore Joseph ... Theodore, after Ted, of course, and Joseph to honor Joe’s memory.
Ted was elated, when he found out what she’d named him, but, as soon as he held the baby, he seemed to know.
“Maybe the next one could be mine,” he said, cuddling the baby as if it were his.
“I don’t think there can be a next one,” said Mirriam. “This one almost killed me.”
“I know,” said Ted. “Prudence feels the same way.”
“I’ll go on the pill for you,” said Mirriam.
“Thanks,” he said, smiling. “And I’ll take you up on that. But it won’t be the same. I always loved it that you let me ... that you’d risk me getting you pregnant.” He handed her son back to her. “But I love being with you under any circumstances.”
When Bobby got back home, he had three horny women waiting for him.
Flo, confused by the feelings she had for Ted, needed his attention, and claimed him first. None of her sisters, she thought, knew that Bobby was actually fucking her. In the past, it had become routine for two or more of them to come “kiss him goodnight” together, and that complicated things for Flo, because she wanted time alone with him so she could spread her legs and let him soothe her jangled emotions.
Bev, who had done everything in the world with him except let him fuck her, was getting more and more nervous, as her older sister Mary had been, about her impending marriage, in September. She wanted time alone with Bobby for the same reasons Flo did.
Linda, used to getting her pussy stuffed several times a week, and now even more infatuated with Paul Engle, still couldn’t let Paul do what she needed. Ergo, she just wanted to feel Bobby’s prick in her pussy again.
It all came to a head the first night he was back, after his mysterious trip. All three women showed up at his room, and all three women tried her best to get the other two to leave.
Bobby heard the argument, outside his door, and got up to open it.
“Don’t stand out there and yell,” he said, calmly. “If Mamma was here with the baby, you’d wake them both up.”
They filed inside and he asked them what the problem was.
None of them, of course, wanted to admit to the others why they wanted to be alone with Bobby.
Bobby, though, was pretty sure he knew what the problem was, and he solved it by simply telling Flo to take her nightgown off and get on the bed.
Then, in front of the other two sisters, he calmly mounted her.
She tried to make it look like she was resisting, or had never done this before, but it was fairly obvious to the other two women that this wasn’t her first time having complete sex. Linda felt only anticipation, because if he’d do this to Flo in front of them, he’d do it to her too. She didn’t worry about Bev. Bev watched closely as she saw her sister getting what she had come for this night. She was still nervous about it, but this made her less so.
Bobby went long enough to give Flo two orgasms, and then got off of her. She was relaxed and happy again, so he sat on his straight backed chair, which he had used at his desk when he was still in school, and had Linda sit on his lap, facing him. She was just as enthusiastic, thought Bev, as her sister had been. Bev felt a little miffed that she’d been left out.
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