The Making Of A Gigolo 4 Prudence HarrisChapter 2
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The Making Of A Gigolo (4) - Prudence HarrisChapter 5 free porn video
Bobby was right to expect both his sisters to visit him that night. Both Mary and Bev came in together, and Mary was almost frantic to climb on him and rub. Halfway to her orgasm, she told him why.
“Fred asked me to marry him!” she panted.
Bobby was afraid Bev would wake everyone in the house with her squeal of delight. She clapped both hands over her mouth, as she realized how loud she was being.
“Is that a good thing?” asked Bobby. He’d never thought of getting married. He liked being able to be involved with several women.
“I don’t know,” she moaned, rubbing faster.
“What did you tell him?” asked Bev, calmer now.
“I told him I had to think about it,” gasped Mary.
“Mary!” squealed Bev again. “Why did you say that? You know you love him.”
“I know,” she panted. “Shut up. I’m almost there.”
She was, and within ten seconds she whined and rubbed furiously, as Bobby sucked at her nipples and stroked her hips. She lay down on him, limp, when she was done.
“My turn!” said Bev. “If you love him, why didn’t you just say yes?”
“It’s scary,” moaned Mary. “I’d have to leave here ... leave all of you ... and go live in a strange house.”
“You could do this whenever you felt like it,” said Bobby, sliding his hands all over her back and butt.
“That’s another thing,” she sighed. “I’m scared of having sex. I just know it’s going to hurt.”
“What we do doesn’t hurt,” said Bobby.
“I know that!” she said, pushing herself up and climbing off of him.
Both Mary and Bobby were astonished to find that Bev had taken off her nightgown. She’d never done that before. Bobby stared at her breasts, smaller versions of Mary’s with the same pink nipples.
“Do you want to be on top of me too?” asked Bobby, staring at her.
“No,” she whispered. “I don’t think I’m ready for that. But your hands feel so good on my skin ... I just want to be next to you ... like this.”
Bobby rolled to his side, and she joined him, snuggling up against him, his wet prick rubbing her belly.
“That feels so strange,” she said. She kissed him, and within seconds she was lying on her back, as Bobby rolled them, to lay half on top of her. His hand was between her legs, and she had spread them for him. She moaned as he slid a finger into her, and kissed him harder.
“That doesn’t hurt?” asked Mary, whispering.
Bev twisted her face away from Bobby’s, to look at her sister, around his head.
“No!” she gasped. “Now it’s your turn to shut up.”
Mary watched, as her brother’s finger disappeared up inside of her sister. Bev obviously loved that. Her thrusting hips made that clear. But Mary remembered the pain, when Bobby had put only a little of his finger in her. Her own hand went between her legs. She’d never put anything inside her, but now, she slipped one fingertip in. She hit her barrier immediately, and felt the twinge of pain as she experimented, pushing against it. She felt part of her fingertip slip to one side of that barrier. There wasn’t room to push much, and when she did, it was uncomfortable ... like picking at a scab. She removed the digit and, while watching Bobby finger fuck her sister, rubbed her nubbin until she clenched her teeth, cumming again, in time with Bev, who broke away from Bobby’s lips to open her mouth wide, and close her eyes tightly as she had an orgasm too.
Mary rolled Bobby to his back. His prick was wet from her pussy, but she didn’t care. She was too inflamed to resist closing her mouth over his prick.
“Ahhhhhhh,” moaned Bobby, as she sucked at his manhood.
She sucked a long time, but he didn’t spurt. When she stopped, to ask him why, he said he didn’t know. It felt wonderful, but he didn’t feel the urge to spurt.
“Jack on it,” he suggested.
She did, sliding her mouth up and down, in time with her hand. Her lips pushed his foreskin back each time.
“Oh yeah,” he moaned. “That’s what it needs.”
Within two minutes, Mary had a mouthful of her brother’s delightful, warm spunk, and swallowed it happily.
Bobby was at the grocery store when he saw Prudence next. She was wearing another new outfit, tan slacks, with an orange and yellow blouse that made her look like she was on fire. She was peering at the label of a can, and hadn’t seen him yet.
“Hi,” he said, pushing his cart almost past her.
She looked up from the can, and her eyes widened. Then, slowly, her pale face began to be tinted with a stain of pink.
“Hello,” she said, having to clear her voice to get the word out.
Bobby looked around. They were alone in the aisle.
“I’d like to see you again,” he said.
She looked around too.
“See me?” she asked. “Is that all you want to do?”
“Of course not,” said Bobby, smiling.
“How do you do that?” sighed Prudence.
“Do what?” he asked.
“Make me feel like this,” she said. “I’m a grown woman, but whenever I look at you, I feel seventeen.”
“You didn’t feel seventeen the other day,” said Bobby, smiling wider. “Not by a long shot.”
She looked around again, nervously.
“I can’t see you again,” she whispered. “I’d feel like doing things we shouldn’t do.”
“Why do you think I want to see you again?” asked Bobby, his smile small now.
“How can you want that with a woman twice your age?” she moaned.
“You’re beautiful,” said Bobby. “I like you. I told you all this already.”
“I didn’t know you wanted to do that!“ she whined.
“A woman like you shouldn’t be made to go without an important part of her life. You’ve deprived yourself. Didn’t you feel good last time?”
“Too good!” she gasped, flushing harder.
“I can make you feel even better,” he said. “I want to make you feel even better.”
“I don’t believe I’m standing here, talking to you about this, in the middle of the grocery store!” sighed Prudence.
“Then let’s talk about it Saturday morning ... at your house ... in your bedroom.” Bobby said it plainly, as it were merely simple conversation.
“Constance...” moaned Prudence, trying to fight the desire inside her.
“Send her to my house. She and my sister are friends now.”
She was about to say “No!“ when he reached out and touched her hand, where it lay, gripping the handle of her cart. That single touch shattered her resistance.
“All right!” she gasped. Then, in almost panic, she pushed her cart, almost running down the aisle away from him.
He played with her, going the opposite direction, and then looking to see which aisle she was going down next. He made sure he met her again, walking past her. If there were other people in the aisle, he said nothing. Once, when there was only one other customer, who was far away, he mouthed the words, “See you Saturday” and grinned, as she blushed and hurried past him. Another time, he reached out and stroked her hand, as he went by.
The fourth time he passed her, she whispered “You’re terrible!“
But, as she hurried off, she was smiling.
He didn’t make it to her house until after ten, Saturday morning. He was still doing chores when Constance showed up at the farm, riding her bicycle, and went into the house as if she lived there.
Bev had found out that she really liked the quiet girl, who wasn’t nearly as quiet once she accepted the fact that she had a real friend. The other girls liked her too, which only added to the strange, almost mystical sense of sisterhood she began to feel with them. Never having been around many kids her age, except in school, she was amazed at the noise and apparent confusion of a house that seven girls lived in. That the boy she had a crush on lived there too was just icing on the cake.
Medanwhile, when Bobby knocked on the door at Constance’s house, it opened almost immediately. A panic stricken Prudence stood there, already breathing hard, as if she’d run to get the door.
“I thought you’d never come!” she blurted.
“I thought you were nervous about me coming at all,” he said, smiling.
“I’m terrified!” she moaned.
“You don’t have to be,” he said. “Can I come in?”
She jerked, and stepped back. She was wearing shorts, and a shirt that buttoned up the front. She was also barefoot. She stood, tensely, frowning.
“Look,” he said soothingly. “I don’t want to make you nervous, or upset, or do anything that you don’t want to do.”
“I have no idea what I want to do,” she said, honestly. “The thought of you being here ... of us ... I just can’t imagine it!”
In fact, Prudence had been in turmoil ever since seeing him at the store. She was inundated with the pure joy of being desirable, as any woman might be, but it had been so long since she had felt that, that it felt foreign. And, like many women, she couldn’t convince herself that a man - especially a handsome, young, muscled Adonis - would find her attractive. She saw all the flaws, when she looked in the mirror. She saw the pooch, where there was extra flesh on her abdomen. She saw the stretch marks on that skin, from when she was pregnant. She saw her breasts, hanging low, heavily, when they weren’t controlled by a bra. She saw the moles, and the pale skin, and the padding on her hips. She believed herself to be fat, though she carried only the normal extra flesh that nature gives a mature woman. At the same time, she had felt Bobby’s passion, as he kissed her, and slid his hand where no man’s hand had been in more than ten years. She’d felt his arousal, pressing against her side as he gave her that wonderful, terrifying orgasm on the couch. Then there were the cultural taboos involved, though they actually took a back seat to her personal qualms and desires. She was at war with herself, knowing that she shouldn’t want more, but wanting more desperately.
And he had plainly offered her more, and was there, in the flesh, because she had said, “Yes.”
“Maybe I should check that window pane,” he said softly.
She jerked, as her mind centered on him.
“It’s fine!” she said, automatically. He smiled, and she felt silly. He was giving her a little push ... but only a little one. “Oh!” she said. “I suppose that would be all right.”
Then, when they got to the bedroom, and he ignored the window, to stand in front of her and reach for the buttons of her shirt, she didn’t know what to do. So she just stood there, as he unbuttoned it, and slid it off her shoulders.
She stood there as he undid the snap of her shorts, and pushed them over her hips, where they were tight. She bit her lip, knowing that now he could see the pooch of her abdomen, with its stretch marks. He turned her, as if she was a department store mannequin, and she felt his fingers at the catch of her bra. It went slack, and he pushed it off her shoulders. His fingers traced over her now-bare shoulders, and she dropped her head, both in shame at being almost naked with him, and because his fingers felt so good, stroking her skin.
The bra dropped to the floor, falling off her limp arms, and she felt a warm kiss on her neck before his fingers went to the bun, on the back of her head.
“Bobby,” she whispered. No one had ever seen her hair down since Harry had died.
“Shhhh,” he said, loosening the pins, and pulling at the long hank of hair.
It fell to her shoulders, and she pulled it forward, to cover her breasts. She almost cried out as he knelt behind her and pulled her panties down, but bit her lip to keep from doing that. A strangled moan slipped past her teeth.
“It’s all right,” he whispered, sliding his hands up the outside of her thighs, to rest on her hips.
She expected him to turn her around ... to stare at her ... to ogle her, with lust-filled eyes. Instead, he simply ran his fingertips over her back, and sides, and arms, until some of the tenseness loosened.
She had no idea how he did it, but when he stepped up to press the front of his body against her naked back, he was naked too. She felt his erection press into her buttocks, and sighed with the ecstasy of knowing he was aroused for her. His hands slid to her belly, and he gripped the extra flesh there.
“I’m fat,” she moaned.
“I love the feel of your skin,” he whispered, his chin on her shoulder.
His hands slid upwards, under her hair, to cup her naked breasts.
“I love the feel of these too,” he said, squeezing them, and lifting them. His fingers found her fat nipples and squeezed gently. She moaned, and leaned back against him.
“I want to make love to you,” he whispered.
Her involuntary step toward the bed might have been disaster, had he not been holding her breasts. Her left foot caught in the panties and shorts that were puddled around her feet, and she would have fallen, but his hands saved her, and let her step out of the obstruction.
That first time was all a blur to Prudence ... a cacophony of an odd mixture of silence, and noises that she knew she was making, but wasn’t making intentionally. She wasn’t sure how she got on the bed, on her back, and couldn’t remember him climbing on top of her. She didn’t even know she’d spread her legs for him, until she felt the pressure of his entry. Quite suddenly, from that point on, she seemed to be at once there, on the bed with him, and floating up above that bed, watching as his hips rose and fell between her knees, and both of her selves were transported to a place she’d loved in the past, but forgotten about completely.
She had no idea how many orgasms she had. They washed over her like waves in the ocean, coming again and again as she let them lift her, and drop her. What she did remember was the ecstasy of being full of hard prick that moved and stroked and massaged her frantic pussy. She also remembered, with crystal clarity, that she had been a fool to go without this for so long. She would never forget one other thing. That was his long, drawn out sigh, when he said “Oh Prudence,” and she felt his hot sperm jetting into her. That brought her back into her body, and she luxuriated in the feeling that he had put a ball of fire into her belly, that was slowly expanding, and would completely consume her.
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