The Making Of A Gigolo 13 Misty ComptonChapter 6
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The Making Of A Gigolo (13) - Misty ComptonChapter 12 free porn video
“Don’t leave,” she said softly as he got out of bed.
“If Mamma knew I did this with you she’d have my hide,” he said, picking up his shirt.
“We’re both adults,” she pointed out. It was the first time she’d thought firmly of herself as an adult.
“There are things you don’t know about,” he said.
“Those other women?” she asked. “The ones you insist aren’t your girlfriend?”
That had come to her between two orgasms. She had suddenly understood completely why all those women looked at Bobby like that. If he had done to them what he was doing to her, they couldn’t look at him any other way. And, somehow, she knew he had done the same thing with them that he was doing to her. Another orgasm had approached about then, and she’d quit thinking about the other women.
“You figured that out, huh?”
“I don’t care about them. I just don’t want you to leave.”
“I shouldn’t have done this with you,” he insisted. “The others needed me. It was different.”
“How?” she asked quietly. “I needed you too. I admit I didn’t know it, but now I do. I still need you. I’ve never felt like this, Bobby.”
His shirt was on now, and he looked silly, standing there. His cock looked about like it had in that picture, not quite soft, but not hard either. It looked shiny. She lifted her head and looked between her legs. Her pussy lips were open, and there was a mess of white all over them and between them.
“You’re a star,” he said. “You’re going places, and I’m never leaving here. You don’t need some hayseed boy complicating your life.”
“You’re anything but a hayseed boy,” she said, her voice fully mature. “And anyway, I’m from the hills. We aren’t so different.”
“You know I’m right,” he insisted. “And I shouldn’t have cum in you. I know you’re not on the pill.”
“How would you know that?”
“Come on, Misty, you don’t do this very often.”
“I’ve done this, as you put it, exactly twice.” She blinked. How did one compare ten minutes of pain and disappointment with what seemed like an entire night of pure bliss? What had just happened had to count for more than just one time.
“When was your last period?” he asked.
“That’s none of your business,” she said instantly, her natural modesty rebelling against talking about that with a man.
“Of course it’s my business!” he said intensely. “What if I got you pregnant? I love all my children.”
That’s when the rest of it clicked in Misty’s mind. All those children, who rushed to him for hugs, or wanted to ride him like a horse, or be read to. All those little boys, with their black hair, and that cute little lock of hair that fell onto their foreheads. With a jolt she realized that Theodore ... Mirriam’s son ... had that same appearance. Misty was from the hills. She knew about how some women weren’t at all picky about which men they lay with, even if that man was a brother, or cousin or ... son. That part didn’t shock her so much. It was obvious there was real and abiding love between the members of the family that lived in this house. Mirriam had even warned her. Now she knew why. His own mother couldn’t even resist him. None of those other women had been able to resist him either.
Somehow, that made everything that had just happened seem like fate, almost. The forces of fate had brought her here ... had given her the honor of her first headliner show, and the ecstasy of knowing it had been a complete success. The forces of fate had thrown her against Bobby Dalton too, and that had resulted in another kind or ecstasy that she hadn’t even known existed.
She looked up at him.
“I loved what happened.”
“Sleep on that,” he said. “You might feel differently in the morning.” He pulled on his pants. “And please don’t tell Mamma what happened.”
“Of course not!” she gasped. “That’s nobody else’s business but ours!”
He moved to the door.
“At least kiss me before you leave,” she said, her voice sulky.
“If I kiss you again, I won’t want to leave.” He grinned.
“Oh horrors!” she gasped, hamming it up.
She felt a surge of strength and rolled off the bed, bouncing to her feet and running to him. She flung her arms around his neck and tried to kiss him. All she got was a whiskery chin, at first. His hands on her waist felt like they belonged there.
“You’re very stubborn ... you know that?” he growled.
Then he kissed her good night ... a fairly quick, almost savage pressing of his lips to hers, pushed and twisted her, and slapped her on her right rump. The crack of his hand on her tender flesh was loud in the silence.
“Oww!” she yipped.
“Shhhh!” He grinned, opened the door, and left her standing there, rubbing her butt cheek.
It was the distraction of something wet, running down her inner thigh that made her reach down for the panties he’d thrown on the floor. She pressed them to her sex and hopped back into bed, moving her legs under the covers. She was cold again.
It was also that wet feeling under the panties still pressed to her slit, that got her mind calculating just when her last period had been.
Mirriam was frying potatoes and ham when Misty bounced into the kitchen.
“What a glorious day,” she said happily.
“After last night I can see why you feel that way,” said Mirriam, smiling.
The first thing Misty thought of was the sex, but then her rational mind told her Mirriam was talking about the concert.
“It was good, wasn’t it?” she asked, enjoying the irony of knowing she was fishing for a compliment and complimenting this woman’s son about something this woman must never find out about.
“I don’t know how your records are selling everywhere else,” said Mirriam, waving the spatula at the world in general, “but I know there won’t be a single one on a store shelf around these parts by tonight.”
“I’m so glad I came here,” sighed Misty, her mind bouncing back and forth between thoughts of records flying out of stores, and the heavy feel of a man pressing her onto the bed ... a particular man, anyway.
“I am too,” said Mirriam. “I never met anybody famous before. It’s nice to know that famous people are just plain folks too.”
“You say the nicest things!” said Misty.
A plate of ham and potatoes appeared in front of her, with two eggs, over easy on one side of the plate. She dug into it with gusto.
“Where to next?” asked Mirriam, sitting down with a cup of coffee.
“Well, depending on how the crew is doing, we have another concert in Texas in four days. I need to get in touch with them and see if they’ve recovered yet. They were awful sick when I left.”
“You can use our phone,” said Mirriam.
The twins came in as Misty was finishing.
“Jeannie Walters asked me for my autograph last night,” announced Matilda. “Can you believe that?”
“Why on Earth would she do that?” asked her mother.
“Because Misty is staying here,” laughed Matilda. She looked at Misty. “Do you have any sisters?”
“Nope,” said Misty, smiling at the girl’s enthusiasm.
“Can we adopt you?” asked Matilda. “All our other sisters have moved out.”
Misty laughed. “Sure. I always wanted sisters.”
She got up and went to the phone. The only number she knew by heart was her agent’s, so she called that. He yelled in her ear about how there had been television cameras at the concert, something she hadn’t been aware of, and that she’d been mentioned on regional TV newscasts. The crew and the rest of the people who’d been sick were almost back to normal, and the last of the Texas concerts were back on. He asked her where she’d be flying out of, and said he’d arrange for the tickets, so that all she had to do was show up at the airport.
“When do you want to leave?” he asked. “I don’t know when flights leave Wichita. I’ll have to find out and call you back.”
“I’m thinking about hanging around here for a couple of days,” she said into the phone. “This is a nice place.”
“Kansas?” He sounded incredulous.
“Yes, Kansas!” she said loudly. “I met some really nice people, and I like them!”
“Okay, okay, you don’t have to yell. I’ll call you back, okay?”
She gave him Mirriam’s number, which was printed on the little white circle in the middle of the dial, and hung up. When she got back to the kitchen, Bobby was eating breakfast.
“Good morning Bobby,” she said, sweetly.
Mirriam looked over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing. She’d heard other women greet her son with that tone of voice.
He looked up. Even sitting there eating, those blue eyes of his captivated her.
“Mirriam?” she said, turning her eyes away from Bobby’s. “Can I stay here two more days? My agent is finding out about flights, but I don’t have to be there for three days. I’d rather stay here than be in some strange hotel with nothing to do for two days. I’d be happy to pay you.”
Mirriam snorted. “Of course you’re welcome to stay, and you know you don’t have to pay anything.”
“I still think you should make this into a bed and breakfast,” said Misty. “Please let me pay you for the next two days. You’ve been so wonderful to me, but let me do that ... please?”
“Nonsense,” said Mirriam. “That’s just silly. I wouldn’t know how much to charge you anyway. I won’t hear another word about it.”
With nothing else to do, Misty finished “I Robot” and then asked for another book to read. She lounged in an easy chair, with her legs over one arm, racing through “The Sackett Brand” by a man named Louis L’Amour, who she had never heard of. Bobby had a whole pile of his books, and she’d already picked out “Hanging Woman Creek” to read next.
Bobby had left, to go do some kind of repairs. The twins were at Renee’s, working, and after lunch Mirriam said she was going to go visit Prudence and Florence, one of her daughters. She asked if Misty wanted to come along.
“I’m having fun reading,” said Misty, “though I’m supposed to be writing songs. I’m going to work on that, too. I think I’ll just stay here, if that’s okay.”
An hour later Bobby came in.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi yourself,” she replied, closing the book. It was exciting, but it didn’t hold a candle to what she suddenly wanted to do. “Your mother is off visiting people.”
“Ahh,” he said, looking uncomfortable somehow.
“We’re all alone,” she said, coquettishly.
“Ahhh,” he said again. “I take it you didn’t change your mind.”
“You take it correctly,” she said, standing up. She flushed pinkly as she said the next thing that was on her mind. “My period should start in three days.”
An hour later, Misty Compton knew she was addicted to Bobby Dalton. It was just as good as it had been the night before ... better, really, because she was ready for it this time. She welcomed everything. This time, between the three times he pressed her into the bed, he lay with her, holding her, and they talked.
His passion was astounding. She had never felt like she was taking up a man’s complete and total attention before, but being with him was like being on stage, with the spotlight on her, and every person looking only at her. The freedom she felt, doing this thing that she hadn’t thought seriously about doing with any other man, brought with it a joy that made her wail out her happiness. He let her, because there was no one to hear her.
And, each time she felt him go still, and heard him grunt, and felt his penis jerk and spurt inside her, she thought about the preciousness of that gift, that so many other women had accepted, even when it had made babies in them. That she was safe from that eventuality was what let her enjoy it most. She got to have what they had had ... got to be the center of this man’s attention and the recipient of his passion, and it wasn’t dangerous at all.
She loved every second of it.
After an immensely satisfying day, during which she did get a lot of work done on two songs, Misty stayed up with her host family that night. They stayed up late, playing cards. When bedtime finally came, the girls walked her to her room, and it was obvious she couldn’t have him again. That ate at her as she lay in bed. She got up to go to the bathroom and stopped at his door on the way back. There was light coming from under it and she felt bold as she opened the door. He was reading, and looked over.
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