The Making of a Gigolo (15) - Agatha Roberts
by Lubrican
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Chapter Thirty-five
Extreme joy ... the unbounded ecstasy of realizing what you really want
in life, and then finding out it is within your reach ... can do
strange things to a person.
The object of Bobby's joy was there, in front of him, and to say she
was offering herself to him would be understandable, under the
circumstances. But Connie was no longer the
quailing young girl, with the lack of confidence that had made her so
timid when she first met Bobby. There was a streak
of something in her that still wanted to punish Bobby for all the
heartache she'd suffered because of him.
She expected him to reach for her naked body. In fact, she
planned on letting him touch her, and kiss her, and stroke
her. She had been waiting for him to do those things for
years. But she also planned on stopping him. "You
can do that part after we're married," she planned on
saying. If he went home with blue balls maybe that
would help him behave himself.
She was therefore astonished when, after he jumped up, he whirled and
left the room at a run, whooping at the top of his lungs.
What Connie couldn't have known was that sex, while most definitely
interesting to Bobby Dalton, wasn't the most important thing in his
life. What was the most important thing in his life, at
this point, was that Constance Harris had given him a full pardon on
his death sentence. That she had consented to become his wife
made him almost incomprehensibly happy.
He'd be interested in the sex later. There was no doubt about
that at all.
Right now, though, what he wanted to do most was let everybody in the
whole world know how happy she had made him. He
didn't exactly turn up his nose at her physical offering.
What she offered emotionally just took precedence over it.
Prudence was the first to confront the whirlwind that Bobby had
become. His war cries scared her, at first, because
she thought something had gone wrong again. One
look at his face as he burst into the kitchen disabused her of that
notion. She had barely begun to smile when she was pulled
into his arms and thoroughly kissed.
That part of Bobby's brain that had stared at Connie's lush, naked
body, decided that it would react, just then, and his prick sprang to
life as he kissed one of the women he'd loved ... still
loved. That he ground his firming penis into her
loins was just habit, really. That he noticed her breasts
pressed to his chest was simply the acknowledgement that he'd done so
before, and thoroughly enjoyed it ... as had she.
His tongue probed her mouth, and she automatically kissed him back.
He suddenly thrust her away from him, holding her shoulders.
"Shit!" he said. "Bad!" He looked
down. He was looking at the front of his pants, at his
traitorous penis, though Prudence didn't know that. She
looked to see what he was talking about, confused and off balance.
"Connie said she's marry me!" he yipped.
Then she was crushed to him again, and it happened all over
again. This time, when he pushed her back, his face was
bright red.
"Sorry!" he yipped. "I have to control that!"
Then he was whirling and heading away from her.
He left the front door open in his haste to leave.
Clancy was drowsing, to be honest, when the radar console on his
dashboard came to life and beeped. He jerked, and
his eyes opened, going instantly to the readout, which flashed
72.
His hand jumped to the button that would lock in the speed and then, by
habit established from repetition in the past, went immediately to the
key, and then to the shifter. The tires of the
cruiser spun as he took off in pursuit.
It took him almost a mile to catch up to the vehicle that had set off
his radar, and then he recognized the car. He reached for the
overheads and bumped his siren twice. The car
pulled to the side, the right tires throwing dust and gravel as the car
almost went into the ditch, trying to stop.
Clancy got out, straightening his belt. He left his cap in
the car, as the door of the vehicle he had pursued sprang open and the
driver, who was, in fact, Bobby Dalton, jumped out and capered in a
circle. Clancy wondered if the boy was drunk, and began to
approach him carefully.
"She said yes!" yelled the dancing man. He stopped,
suddenly, and was calm. "Shit!" he said. "I'm
sorry, Clancy."
"What in the world has you all worked up?" asked the lawman.
"Connie Harris just said she'd marry me!" gasped Bobby.
"You been drinking?" asked Clancy.
Bobby blinked. "No Sir!" he said. "I was just kind
of excited."
"Seventy-two in a forty-five zone is a mite too excited," said Clancy.
"Yeah." Bobby seemed to deflate. "Write me up,
Clancy. You're right." He suddenly
grinned. "But it's worth it, Clancy! She said "Yes!" His right arm shot up into the air, his hand in a fist.
Clancy grinned. "So you're actually going to settle down?"
"Oh yes!" panted Bobby. "Damn, Clancy, she almost said no,
but she cut me a break."
"And you're running around days are all over?" Clancy folded
his arms.
"Yes sir!" shouted Bobby.
"Can you keep it down to forty-five the rest of the way home?"
"Of course I can," said Bobby. "I know the speed limit on
this road."
Clancy laughed. "Well, if she can cut you a break,
I guess I could too. Call it a wedding present."
"Wow!" said Bobby. He was grinning inanely. "You mean
it? You have to come to the wedding, Clancy."
"I don't know about that," said the Chief of Police. "You've
already got people running against me in the next election."
"Oh." Bobby deflated again. "Sorry about that."
"Just don't make me go tell that poor girl that you've gone off and
killed yourself driving like a maniac," said
Clancy. "You want me to take you home?"
"No," said Bobby, straightening his shoulders. The thought of
Connie getting news like that again sobered him instantly.
"You're right. I'll take it easy."
"Good enough," said Clancy. "You have a good day, now, hear?"
"It couldn't get any better, Clancy," sighed Bobby. "Thanks."
"When is this wedding?" asked Clancy. "I might need to call
in the National Guard or something."
Bobby's eyes went round. "I don't know!" He looked
around, as if there might be someone else there who could tell
him. "She just said yes five minutes
ago." He looked around again. "I have to
go back!" he gasped.
"No!" ordered Clancy. "You just mosey on home,
until you calm down. Mosey ... you hear me?"
"Yes, Sir," said Bobby. "I'll call her!" he said, perking up.
"Good, you do that."
"Okay!" said Bobby, getting excited again. "Can I go
now?" His voice yearned to be gone.
"Mosey!" ordered Clancy.
"Yes sir!" said Bobby.
He made it four miles, at a sedate thirty-five miles per hour, and then
turned into the driveway of the farm. He did four
donuts in the yard before the car came to a clunking stop in the midst
of a cloud of dust.
Mary, Bev and Florence had already gone back to their own
homes. Linda was just leaving the barn, on her way to do the
same thing, when he arrived. The twins and Suzie came out to
see what the uproar was about.
Those four were the first to receive the news, and his
attention. After that he went into the house, looking for his
mother.
It took only ten minutes for him to complete the slapstick litany of
picking up any woman he saw, including a very bewildered Candy,
swinging them all around in a circle, and kissing them soundly, before
staggering back, looking down at the front of his pants and panting
"Behave!" or some other instruction to his own body not to give in to
the feelings that hugging and kissing all those women created in
him. By the time Jennifer came out of her room, he had calmed
down.
Candy promptly ... and triumphantly ...
bragged that Bobby had kissed her. Mirriam had to separate
the two girls before it turned into a cat fight.
Mirriam banished Bobby to the barn, to get complete control of
himself. By the time she got her two boarders
calmed down, all her daughters had vanished. It
didn't take a rocket scientist to know where they'd gone, so she called
Prudence to warn her they were about to be invaded.
Then she sat down, and took some time to sort out her own feelings.
She loved Connie. That was a given. And she loved Bobby. She had her
own misgivings about whether he could actually settle down with one
woman. She hoped so, with all her heart.
It didn't matter that she'd be alone in her bed again. That
was a given too, once Jeff went back to Manhattan, but it wasn't
important. She had always worried that Bobby would
cross the wrong man, or get involved with the wrong woman. It
was important to help him succeed, so that Constance could tame him.
Taking a deep breath, she got out the phone book. The only
woman she'd ever actually confronted about Bobby was
Prudence. She wasn't worried about Prudence. But
now she started calling some other names in the book.
When that was done - and it had turned out to be a rather useless
pursuit, based on what she'd been told - she thought about Jeff
Hamilton. He was in his room, taking a
nap. She couldn't believe that the ruckus hadn't awakened
him. Then again, she'd kept him up most of the
night.
The two sluts had retreated to their rooms too, and she almost never
saw Randy and Wanda, except at meals.
She climbed the stairs. She told herself it was just to make
sure Jeff was all right. She eased his door open, and slipped
inside.
She barely made it out in time to get lunch ready.
Saturday night was a night Bobby would always
remember. He got his first taste of the rigors of
married life, which was a wakeup call that he hadn't expected.
"Where will we live?"
"Where will the money to live on come from?"
"What about your mamma, and the B&B?"
Those and a host of other question left him scratching his head, as the
reality of all the things he'd have to think about to make a home were
pounded into his head by the ever pragmatic Constance.
Then she said that those things would all be worked out, and wanted the
kisses she'd longed for for so long, but had been denied.
She got him to the point where he felt like jelly, as, piece by piece,
their clothing seemed to fall off. She was
fascinated by his penis and he was shocked when she sucked it, making
noises that convinced him beyond any possible doubt that she loved what
she was doing.
She let him give her orgasms with his fingers between her legs, and his
lips on her breasts, but stopped him when he rose to mount her.
"After we're married," she gasped, putting both hands on his chest.
She'd looked forward to punishing him, but she didn't enjoy it after
all.
He pulled back without a word, and sat, panting.
"Okay," he said.
She couldn't believe it. He'd just stopped!
She regretted the little sadistic streak in her that had demanded she
do that. She was on the verge of having what she had so
desperately wanted, and had thought he'd be unable to control
himself. She'd just wanted to make him work for
it. But he just stopped!
"You're right," he said. He took a deep
breath. "I'll beat off."
"You will not!" she barked.
She scrambled up onto her hands and knees, her tingling breasts hanging
and wobbling as she crawled to him. She couldn't take it
back. She was too proud to do that. But
she could get something else she'd dreamed of.
She lowered her mouth onto his prick again.
Interestingly, on that night, the last day of July, 1977, in another
state, far away, Agatha Roberts was dealing with another consequence
that had issued from the substance that Constance Harris' mouth was
suddenly full of. Jim, his eyes a little wild,
encouraged her, along with the doctor, to push one last time, and the
pressure that had been tormenting her suddenly
vanished. There was still pain, but it was so much
less that her sigh of relief was genuine as she flopped back onto the
bed.
"A boy!" announced the doctor.
Jim dabbed at Agatha's face with the damp towel he'd been using for
hours, and smiled down into her face.
"Now that that's done," he said. "Will you marry me?"
Agatha barked a half laugh, which was all she had energy to produce.
"You're insane," she sighed.
"Insanely in love with you," he said.
"I just had a baby," she whispered.
"The first of many," he countered. "What's his name?"
"Michael," she sighed. "My protector and inspiration."
"My grandfather's name was Michael," said Jim.
"Really?"
"Really."
"Then I guess I have to marry you," she said softly. "It's
fate."
"Let me get him for you," said Jim.
As he laid the baby on her chest, he said "This is Michael, who brought
us together. I'll love him forever."
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