The Making Of A Gigolo 4 Prudence HarrisChapter 2
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The Making Of A Gigolo (4) - Prudence HarrisChapter 3 free porn video
The girls split up in the hallway, as each went to the room she shared with another sister. Mary didn’t clean up. Instead, she pulled her nightgown up and lay on her bed, her legs spread. Bobby’s slippery spunk was all over her pussy lips, and she had two more orgasms as she rubbed it all over her pussy, torturing her clitty. Knowing that that slipperiness was a man’s sperm just made it even better, somehow.
As for Beverly, she’d known how to masturbate for a long time too, though she did it infrequently. She was nervous about doing that, because of stories she’d heard. She didn’t know if they were true or not, but thought it was better not to take chances. Tonight, though, she needed the release. Carefully, she pressed two fingers against that spot she knew would do it for her, and rubbed in a circle. She held her breath as the feelings flooded her loins, and then sighed, and closed her eyes.
She was very glad she’d spied on them, and demanded to be included.
Very glad.
When Bobby returned to Prudence’s house, two days later, to check the fit of the door they’d installed, he was surprised to see Prudence dressed in a skirt and blouse. The skirt was plum colored, and the blouse had lavender flowers on it. Her hair was still up in a bun.
“You look nice today,” he said, his eyes taking in the thrust of her breasts, under the blouse. They were larger than he’d thought.
“I wore it to work today,” she said. “You’d have thought I came in wearing a necklace of shrunken heads.”
“They were surprised?” asked Bobby.
“Aren’t you?” she asked. She was well aware that her entire wardrobe had consisted of blacks and grays, except for the white blouses she wore at the bank. It had been that way for as long as she could remember.
“You look good,” he said, not answering her question.
“That’s not flirting ... is it?” she asked, a tiny smile at the corners of her lips.
“When you’re ready for me to flirt with you, just let me know,” said Bobby. “Then you’ll know what flirting is like.”
“I know what flirting is like,” she said, folding her arms under her breasts.
Bobby stared, intentionally, at her breasts.
“I love that blouse,” he said, his voice almost sighing. He looked up to see Prudence’s eyes wide. She was blushing. He grinned. “Is that what you thought it was like?” he asked.
She suddenly felt nervous, and much younger than she was. “Something like that, I suppose,” she stammered.
“I’ve said it before. You’re a beautiful woman, Prudence,” he said softly.
“All right, that’s enough,” she said weakly. “It isn’t right for you to say things like that.”
“Like I said,” he smiled. “When you’re ready to be flirted with, let me know.”
She looked startled, and then thought about what had just happened. He’d offered to be a gentleman, but she’d prodded him. When he’d reacted to her prodding, he’d said things that made her feel distinctly vulnerable, yet, here he was, being a gentleman again. She realized she had missed out on a lot of life, and wasn’t yet ready to dive back into that maelstrom of emotion. Just buying new clothes wasn’t enough to prepare her for rejoining the adult world she’d shunned for a decade.
“Thank you,” she said, without meaning to say it out loud.
“You’re very welcome,” said Bobby. “How’s our door?”
“It’s beautiful,” she said, feeling calmer immediately.
“No swelling?”
“Not that I can see,” she said.
“That means the paint sealed it properly,” he said. “We’ll give it another coat, and then put the molding back up around the inside. We shouldn’t have to do any more adjusting after that.”
Constance came in the door they were discussing, with a basket of tomatoes, lettuce and onions.
“Oh!” she said, seeing Bobby. “Hi.” She smiled, but didn’t show her teeth.
“Hi, yourself,” he said. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Constance blinked, and then smiled enough to show her teeth. She raised one hand to cover her mouth, and ducked her head.
“You seem to make us both feel shy,” said Prudence to Bobby.
“I don’t mean to,” said Bobby.
“We’re not used to men paying any attention to us,” said the woman.
“I’ll try to ignore you, from now on,” Bobby said, smiling.
“Now you’re teasing,” said Prudence.
“How about we tackle that cracked window you showed me the other day,” said Bobby, ignoring the women.
“Can I help with that too?” asked Prudence.
“I thought I’d have you give a last coat of paint to the door,” said Bobby.
“I could maybe do that,” said Constance, timidly.
“Excellent idea!” said Bobby. “Both of you need to change clothes, though.”
“Okay!” said both women, in tandem. Both seemed excited, and Bobby just sighed.
Constance, as it turned out, changed into shorts and a white T shirt. The shirt was an old one, and too small, hence her decision to wear it, since she had seen her mother’s ruined sweat suit. She didn’t think about the fact that the shirt hugged her young breasts and showed them off. When she skipped into the kitchen, where Bobby had been getting the paint ready for her, she was reminded of that, when Bobby’s eyes raked up and down her body.
“Oh!” she said, stopping quickly. Her hands came to cover her breasts, when she saw him looking there.
“Sorry,” said Bobby, looking away. “It’s just natural for a man to look at a pretty girl.”
“Why do you say things like that?” she blurted.
“Because it’s the truth,” he said.
“I’m not pretty,” she said. “Not like Beverly.”
“Beverly doesn’t think she’s pretty either,” said Bobby, stirring the paint.
“That’s silly!” chirped Constance.
“It’s also silly for you to think you’re not pretty, but that doesn’t make any difference to you, now does it?”
“Boys don’t look at me, like they look at Beverly,” she said.
“That’s because you don’t go around dressed like that,” said Bobby, smiling.
Bobby was showing Constance how to move the brush in long, even strokes when Prudence appeared. She was wearing her sweat suit again.
“I guess these are my work clothes, now,” she said, picking at a paint stain.
“Let’s get to it,” said Bobby. “We need to work from the inside.”
She took him to her bedroom, since that’s where the cracked window was, but it felt strange to take a man in there. At the same time, the last man who had stepped into that room was Harry, and, somehow, Bobby’s presence made Harry’s ghost seem less substantial. She was so used to thinking about Harry, in that room, that she was glad to be distracted by another man.
Bobby showed her how to chip away the glazing that held the window in. When the chisel bit into the wood, he reached around her with both hands, to correct the angle of the chisel, and his body pressed against her back gently. The sensations were so disturbing that she missed the chisel completely, with the hammer.
“Calm down,” he said, over her shoulder.
“When you touch me, I get all nervous,” she whispered.
“It’s just touch,” he said, moving his hands to her waist.
“It feels wrong,” she said, gripping the hammer tightly.
“You’re a woman,” he said. “I’m a man. But we’re also just two human beings and all I’m doing here is teaching you something. You have nothing to fear from me.”
“But I haven’t been touched by a man in years,” she sighed. “It feels so strange. Right now all I can feel is your hands.”
Bobby squeezed his fingers gently on her waist.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “I can stop, if it upsets you.”
“I don’t understand this,” she moaned, staring at the chisel in her hand. “Why would you want to tease me ... flirt with me ... touch me?”
“I like you,” he said, his voice soft. “I like to touch people I like.”
“But I’m old enough to be your mother,” she moaned.
“That doesn’t mean anything to me,” he said. “I like you.”
“What does that mean?” she whispered.
“It only means that I like to be around you,” he said. “Now, work on that window.”
“I can’t,” she moaned. “Not with you touching me like that.”
“All right, then,” he said, stepping to the side, and removing his hands from her waist. “Remember what I showed you. Get the angle right, so you don’t get into the wood.”
She gave a few tentative taps, and a long stick of withered glazing popped off the edge of the window. He coached her, until she was chipping away industriously. He explained that the little metal triangles she was uncovering were called glazing points, and held the glass in, until the glazing compound was applied. He told her how to pry them out, and reached past her to hold the cracked glass in place, as she finished removing everything. Then he let the glass tilt, until he could grab the larger piece, while she held the smaller one in place.
“Take this to the lumber yard,” he said. “Give it to them and tell them you need a new pane, the same size.”
“You’re not going with me?” Prudence sounded disappointed, somehow.
“You can do this by yourself. I need to check on Constance.”
While Prudence was gone, Bobby went and stood, watching the girl painting. He just chatted with her, telling her she was doing a good job, and talking about nothing of any real importance. He had no idea that she was thrilled that he was paying any attention to her. To her, he was an “older male”, and it was a real honor, from her perspective, that he would notice her at all. She was aware of his eyes on her, and that thrilled her too. She was suddenly glad she’d worn this old, too-tight shirt. She wasn’t sure any other man had ever looked at her like he looked at her, and it made her quiver inside. It was a good quiver, at least from him. Her mother liked this man ... she could tell ... and that made her like him too.
Prudence returned with the glass, beaming at her victory. It fit perfectly, and Bobby showed her how to use the edge of the chisle blade to tap new glazing points in to hold it in place. Then he rolled a strip of glazing compound between his hands, making a long line, which he pressed into place. Then she did it, until there was a line of lumpy looking putty all the way around the window.
“It doesn’t look nice, like the other did,” she complained.
“That’s because we’re not finished, yet,” he said. “I have to touch you again,” he warned.
She said nothing, and he put the chisel in her hand, and showed her how to angle it and drag it along the line of putty, smoothing it, and removing the excess.
“That’s amazing,” she said, delighted in how the window looked.
“Now you’re a door installer, and a window glazier,” he said, putting his hands back on her waist.
“You’re touching me again,” she said, leaning back, ever so slightly.
“This is nothing,” he said.
“It doesn’t feel like nothing,” she said, her hands hanging at her sides.
“May I tell you the truth?” he asked.
“Why couldn’t you?” she asked back.
“It may make you very uncomfortable,” he warned.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I’d much prefer to touch you like this,” he said, sliding his hands around and up, to cup her breasts.
“Ohhhhhh,” she moaned, her hands jerking to grab his wrists.
“It’s just how I feel,” he said, squeezing gently. “That’s all.”
Bess
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