The Making Of A Gigolo 5 Jill TrimbleChapter 4
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Riding in the back of the pickup with four sisters was something Bobby had done many times. The two youngest sat up front with Mamma, who drove. Mary was going to be delivered back to the house by Fred, who had his own car. Her days of curfew were over, now that she was engaged, and the wedding was only a week away.
He found himself sitting between Bev and Flo, all three of them sitting with their backs against the cab. It just seemed natural to put his arms around them. Bev was on his right, and he squeezed the side of her breast playfully. She didn’t react like he thought she would, jerking and slapping at him. Instead, she laid her hand on his thigh, and let her fingertips slowly move back and forth. It was dark when they left town, and then her hand moved to his crotch, to squeeze there.
Flo, on his other side, had leaned her head on his shoulder. Linda and Susie were sitting Indian style, in the back of the truck, their heads close as they talked above the wind and noise of the old truck.
It was one of those lazy summer nights, when all is right with the world, and you just can’t help but be relaxed, and happy. Bobby’s left hand was draped carelessly over Flo’s left shoulder, and a bump in the road made it bounce against her breast. She turned her head up towards his face.
“Your hand just touched my boob!” she said.
“It felt like a nice boob,” he said, turning his face toward her.
“My big brother is a dirty old man!” she said, smiling.
“What’s the big deal?” he asked. “I’m sure a dozen guys have felt your boobs.”
“They have not!” she yipped. She meant to slap him on his thigh, but missed, and her hand landed on Bev’s, which just happened, at that moment to be squeezing the lump of his prick. Flo leaned forward and looked down at Bobby’s lap.
“What are you doing?!“ she yipped at Bev, as Bev snatched her hand away.
“Nothing!” said Bev.
Flo looked back at Bobby, who hadn’t reacted at all.
“She was touching you!” she accused.
“It was just a bump in the road,” said Bobby. “It moved her hand, like it moved mine.”
“Don’t give me that crap!” said Flo, indignantly. She was seventeen, and was well aware of the world of sexual things.
“It’s no big deal,” said Bobby.
“How can you say that!?” said Flo, stiffening.
Bobby was still relatively inexperienced with women. He remembered how kissing Bev had solved the problem of her catching him with Mary, and, in fact, had led to some fun. So he may be forgiven for sticking with what had worked before.
Bobby’s hand moved to Flo’s shoulder and, before she could react, he had leaned over to press his lips to hers. He didn’t make it a long kiss, but his lips were soft and warm, and completely unexpected on hers. It was over before she could react to it. As soon as he stopped kissing her, he let go of her shoulder.
She moved away from him, turning sideways, with her back to the side of the truck bed.
“Why did you do that?” she asked.
“You’re my sister,” he said. “I love you. I just wanted you to know that.”
“But you kissed me!” she said.
“Was it really that big of a deal? Are you telling me you haven’t kissed a boy before?”
“Well no, but they weren’t my brother!“
“All I did was show you that I love you. That’s all Bev was doing. Really, it’s no big deal.”
The rest of the ride was completed in silence. Flo didn’t move back to nestle into Bobby’s armpit, but Bev stayed right where she was.
A very nervous Bev slipped into his room, later that night. He had been expecting her.
“Is she going to say anything?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” said Bobby.
“I saw you kiss her.”
“I didn’t know what else to do,” he said.
“What do we do?” she asked, shifting her feet nervously.
“Just go to bed,” he said. “We’ll see what happens in the morning.”
“Okay,” she said doubtfully.
Bobby was asleep, when Fred dropped Mary off. She entered the house as quietly as she could and went straight to his room, which was dark. She was in turmoil. She had jacked Fred off again in the car, right out front, and this time, she had wanted to take him in her mouth. She couldn’t do that. It was only the second time she’d ever touched him there. She had also resisted letting him pet her, because she was quite sure she wouldn’t be able to make herself stop him from doing everything.
“Bobby?” she whispered, and then moved to touch his shoulder.
He woke quickly, almost as if he’d been waiting for her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.
“I need you,” she moaned.
“It’s late,” he said.
“I know ... but I really need you!” she whined.
“Okay,” he said. His prick stiffened, as he heard the rustle of her taking her clothes off.
When she climbed in bed with him, her need was obvious, in the way she writhed against him, rubbing her naked flesh against him in every way she could. He sucked at a nipple and she whined. When he slid a finger into her, she arched and bit at his shoulder.
Her hand went to his prick, and gripped it, almost painfully.
“I need this,” she moaned. He sensed her definition of “need” had morphed to something other than just rubbing against it.
“I thought you were saving that for Fred,” he cautioned.
“It’s a whole week away,” she panted. “I’m dying, Bobby. I got so horny tonight I almost let him do this.”
“He’s going to be your husband,” said Bobby. “Just let him.”
“I can’t!” she gasped. “I’ve put him off so much I can’t just change everything.” She writhed against him. “Besides, I’m burning up now! Pleeeease, Bobby!”
“You can only do this one time,” he said, meaning that she could only surrender her virginity once.
“I promise I won’t ask you do to it again!” she panted, thinking that he meant that he’d only do this with her one time.
She was willing. She was actually begging. And Bobby was a man, after all.
He rolled to loom over her and she wiggled excitedly as, for the first time, she spread her legs for a man to have sex with her. She didn’t know what to do, except open her legs for him. Unable to resist, she reached for his hanging phallus, and gripped it. Instinct told her where to direct the tip, as he lowered it to her pussy lips.
He began pushing. She was soaked, and there was plenty of lubrication so, as he slowly forced his way into her, he didn’t stop, until his pubic hairs intertwined with hers. Her long groan of mixed satisfaction, at finally being filled, and discomfort, as her flesh was forced to stretch, made him as hard as he’d ever been in his life.
She was, within three strokes, completely overwhelmed by the myriad of sensations she was being bombarded with. The first was the unbelievable feeling of fullness, in her loins. She felt like she’d been starving for years, and had just eaten way too much. Added to that was his weight, as it settled on her, and for the first time, she was pressed helplessly to a bed by the inescapable pressure on her. Her clitty screamed at her, and his chest on her breasts sent electric jolts through her. When his lips crushed hers, her mind went into overload.
She would always remember this night as being something like the big wheel of fortune that came to town with the carnival every year. The big wheel spun, the pointer making a clacking sound as it flipped from peg to peg, each one signifying a different wonderful thing that could happen to the person who had given the carnie a dollar. As her virginity was surrendered, the feel of the penis in her, her clitty, her nipples, his skin against hers, and his lips were like the pegs on that wheel, with the pointer flicking against them, over and over. Her mind couldn’t concentrate on just one thing, and kept flipping from one to another, to another, until all she could feel was the overwhelming ecstasy of being loved.
The wheel finally landed on orgasm, and she was a winner. This orgasm put to shame every other one she’d thought was the best that it could ever be. At one point, as she thrashed under him, a part of her overwhelmed mind separated, to float above them, looking down. It said, “Now that is an orgasm!” and then sank back into her, unwilling to be separated from the brain that was experiencing that orgasm.
Something bumped the wheel, and it clicked to the next space, which was also marked, “Orgasm”. This one, though, was Bobby’s. She heard it signaled in his groan, and then felt the wash of liquid heat spraying into her belly, which extended her own orgasm, or set off another one – she couldn’t tell which.
Had a genie from a bottle materialized in a puff of smoke, and said, “You have one wish,” Mary’s wish, at that moment, would have been, “Make this last forever.”
As they panted for breath, she crushed him in her arms, unwilling to let him go, until she had no strength left in her body. When her arms flopped to the bed, the sadness she felt was because she didn’t have enough energy to keep them wrapped around him.
Bobby kissed her, and whispered. “It will be even better when Fred does it to you.”
“It can’t,” she panted. “I’ll die if it’s any better than that.”
“You won’t die.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re very welcome.” She could sense him grinning, above her.
“No!” she whispered. “I mean it! I can’t begin to tell you what that meant to me.”
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you too,” she moaned.
“Well, then,” he said, lifting himself onto his hands and knees, his prick slurping out of her with a squishy sound, “now that that’s settled, you can go to bed.”
“I don’t want to move,” she whined. “I don’t want to leave.”
“You have to. Flo caught Bev rubbing me on the way home. The last thing we need is for someone to find you in my bed in the morning.”
“She caught you?”
“We were just riding home, and Bev was playing a little. Flo saw her hand in my lap.”
“What did she do?” asked Mary.
“She got a little upset. I was trying to show her that it was no big deal, and I kissed her ... to show her. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You idiot!” said Mary. “I came to you. You don’t go to them! You were lucky with Bev.”
“I know,” he said helplessly. “It just kind of happened. But you have to go to bed. She’s in there, and if she gets up in the night and you’re not there, she’ll go looking for you.”
“If you hadn’t just made me the happiest woman in the world, I think I’d be really mad at you!” she said softly. “I’ll talk to her in the morning.”
“Do you think you should?” he asked.
“We’ve lived in the same room together all our lives,” said Mary, getting up. “I know her better than I know any other person on earth. I’ll talk to her.”
“Okay,” said Bobby.
“But you owe me,” she said, putting her clothes back on in the dark.
“What do I owe you?” he asked.
“I know I said I’d only ask you to do this once,” she whispered. “But if I have to wait a whole week to feel that again I won’t be able to walk down the aisle. I’ll be a basket case. You owe me this again ... maybe twice.”
Bobby grinned in the dark, but made his voice sound contrite.
“All right.”
She bent over to kiss him.
“I really do love you, even if you’re an idiot.”
“I really do love you too,” said Bobby, thinking of the sperm he’d put in other women, and what it had done to them.
The next morning went anticlimactically, with maybe a few exceptions which only Bobby and Bev noticed. Mary talked to Flo when they woke up. Bobby wouldn’t find out what she said until later, but whatever it was made Flo simply stare at him, rather than saying anything about what had happened in the truck. She picked at her food, too, but nobody else noticed.
It was Matilda’s turn to collect eggs. Bobby was the unofficial, official supervisor of that activity. His thirteen-year-old sister was more concerned with getting chores done, so she could shoot off firecrackers, than anything else, and the gathering went quickly.
Then Bobby borrowed the truck, and went to see about Jill Trimble’s washing machine.
She met him at the door in short shorts and a halter top that exposed a deep crevice between her breasts. He looked straight into her eyes.
“I don’t know if I should let you in or not,” she said, blinking at him.
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“I did talk to some of the women in ... that other group.”
“And what did they say?” he asked.
“It wasn’t so much what they said,” she muttered. “It was more the way they said it.”
“Okay,” he said, standing there, holding his tool bag.
“Some of them like you,” she said.
“And that’s a bad thing?” he asked.
“They like you a lot,” she said.
“They said that?” he queried.
“A woman can tell when another woman is ... let’s say ... infatuated, with a man.”
“Well, I guess it’s up to you,” he said, finally.
“I’m very vulnerable, right now,” she said.
Bobby cocked his head. Her hair was up in a pony tail again. She looked young, and healthy, and very desirable.
“I’m not sure what you’re trying to say,” he said.
“I’m recently divorced,” she said. “You’re young, and handsome, and a lot of women seem to be infatuated with you.”
“I can’t help who I am,” he said.
“I don’t want to get infatuated with anybody right now,” she said.
“Then don’t.” He grinned. “I’m just here to look at your washer.”
“If only it were that easy,” she said. “You’re too young to understand how complicated life is for a woman like me.”
“If I can fix your washer, won’t that make things a little less complicated?” he asked.
She looked frustrated, for a moment. “Oh, all right!” she sighed. “Come on in. I’ll show you the washer!”
She led him to a utility room that was, in fact, piled with laundry waiting to be washed. Her choice of underwear was vastly different than that of the women he was already intimately acquainted with. Theirs was all utilitarian, and plain. Hers was all feminine, lacy, and thin. She had gone to no effort to hide any of it, and it was mixed in with everything else, in piles of clothing that were obviously sorted by color.
“That’s it,” she said, pointing needlessly to the white machine.
Bobby tried running it through a cycle, and heard the motor working, but nothing moved inside the basket. The pump worked, though, sucking the water out that he’d let run into the tub. When it was empty, he pulled the machine out and got behind it, to remove the back. He shone a flashlight into the guts, and saw two belts, one in place, the other hanging, with two broken ends visible.
He pulled it out. The hardware store would be closed today, but he had a collection of belts in the workshop at the farm, things that had been salvaged from this or that, as things were found un-repairable. He kept lots of parts from things other people had thrown out.
“If I’ve got a belt this size back home, I can get you up and washing today,” he said, looking up. She was leaned over, watching him, and her cleavage was almost in his face.
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