The Making of a Gigolo (7) - Rhonda Wilson

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Chapter Five

Janet waited nervously, again outside the Wagon Wheel, and again clutching her coat around her as her breath floated white from her mouth. This time, though, her nervousness was a result of her consuming curiosity. Rhonda had sounded ... different. Something had definitely happened and Janet couldn't wait to find out what it was. Again, she saw Rhonda park on the street, and again, she yelled "Hurry up! It's freezing!" as Rhonda walked toward her.

She didn't look any different.

"Aren't you freezing?" complained Janet as her friend approached.

"No," said Rhonda, looking pink. "I feel warm all over."

"Get inside! I can't wait to hear about it." Janet opened the door, and pushed Rhonda in.

In the booth, Rhonda seemed to take forever to get her coat off, and then the waitress was there. It wasn't Jill. It was another, younger woman, with dark hair. She asked what they wanted, and finally left.

"Well?" Janet leaned forward, her eyes bright.

"It's embarrassing," said Rhonda softly. "I can't just tell you what happened."

"If you don't I'll have a stroke, right this minute!" moaned Janet. "Come on, we're best friends. You can tell me."

"It's just that it was so ... intimate," sighed Rhonda. By her standards, that kiss, and those roaming hands had been incredibly intimate. Up to that point, it had all turned into a game ... a delightfully fun game, where she was going to play a trick on her friend. Then his lips, and his hands, had announced that this was no game at all ... that, someday, incredibly intimate things would be shared between the two. When he'd walked out the door, waving goodbye, Rhonda had barely been able to stand. Something in her had wanted to cry out to him to stop. He wasn't finished yet! He couldn't leave then ... not when the seed he had planted, with those lips and those hands, had already sprouted and needed tending.

She'd managed a croaking "When will I see you again?"

His grin had hit her right in the stomach. "Whenever you call me," was all he'd said.

The first thing she'd done was scrabble frantically through the house, trying to find the slip of paper with his phone number on it. She couldn't remember where she'd put it when Janet had made her call him the first time. When she finally saw it, lying on the floor, next to the phone, she almost cried with relief.

"Don't just sit there!" moaned Janet, disrupting Rhonda's reflections.

Rhonda took a deep breath. He'd coached her on this part. She could do it.

"He did the strangest things," she said, "He touched me all over. He threw my clothes all over my bedroom." She sighed, and her eyes went unfocused as she remembered it again. "He kissed me, and I couldn't make my knees work."

"Ohhhhh," sighed Janet, slumping a little.

"We took a shower together," said Rhonda, feeling stronger. She was watching Janet, who seemed to be as strongly affected by this as she had been herself.

"Was he gentle?" asked Janet softly.

"I couldn't believe how gentle he was," said Rhonda. That part was the truth. "He made me feel so ... I don't know ... it was like he cared about how I felt." She suddenly remembered more of her prepared "testimony". "But he was strong too. The bed moved, Janet! I bet it moved a whole foot! I had to remind him that Herb was sleeping, and that we couldn't wake him up!"

"Ohhh shit, I'm so horny right now I'd do it with Petey!" Pete Gunderson was a fifty-year-old bag boy at the IGA, who was tall and lanky, with stringy hair. A lot of people thought Pete wasn't quite all there.

"I know how you feel," said Rhonda, suddenly realizing that that was exactly what she was feeling ... she was horny! She hadn't felt that way for almost as long as she could remember.

"Didn't he satisfy you?" asked Janet, suddenly sober, and much too interested in how Rhonda was feeling, as far as Rhonda was concerned.

"No man has satisfied me more," said Rhonda carefully. She was proud that she'd thought that twisted truth up all by herself.

"Is he ... big?" asked Janet, leaning forward again.

"Big?" Rhonda wasn't experienced enough to understand.

"You know," said Janet. "Down there ... is he long? Thick?"

"Oh!" said Rhonda, blushing. She didn't know what to say. She decided on the truth. "I don't actually know. I mean it all happened so fast, and I was feeling so flustered. What I remember most is when he touched my breasts. I was almost overwhelmed by it all!"

Janet reached out and patted her hand. "It's okay, honey," she said. "I know I'm being too nosey. You don't have to tell me everything." She sat back. "Are you going to see him again?"

"Ohhh yes," said Rhonda, telling the full and unvarnished truth, now. "I can't wait to see him again."

"Oooo!" squealed Janet, feeling her pussy dampen. "I'm so happy for you! I knew this would work out. Things are going to be a lot better for you now. I just know it!"

"I do too," said Rhonda, because it was the right thing to say. Then, with a jolt, she realized that she actually believed that. From what little she knew about Bobby Dalton, if he continued to be in her life, it would be better.

They sipped coffee quietly for a few minutes.

"Oh yes!" said Rhonda suddenly. "I just remembered something."

"What?" asked Janet, leaning forward again, all ears.

"He wanted me to remind you that you owe him ten dollars."

The Valentines dance was a success, and a dismal failure, depending on the perspective of the students attending. For Tammy Wynn, it was a dismal failure, because she got in a fight with her boyfriend, Rick, when she caught him looking at other girls at the dance. They broke up, as a result, and she had to walk home. But for others, like Bev Dalton and Constance Harris, it was a glorious success.

Bev danced every dance with Bill, their bodies pressed together so tightly that a chaperone drifted over to remind them that they were in public. The chaperone was supposed to remind them that no close body touching was allowed, but had been young once herself.

Constance knew what a stiff prick felt like when it was pressed against her stomach. She'd felt Bobby's on several occasions, when he hugged her, and twice when he'd kissed her. When she felt Tim's erection pressing against her, she looked up into his eyes. She backed up, not because she was offended, but because of the danger of the feelings that coursed through her. Tim was also very aware of that stiff penis.

"I'm really sorry," he whispered. "I can't help it."

"I forgive you," she whispered back. His grin made her press against him again, and they finished the dance. They seemed to bump loins a lot.

At the end of the dance, the two couples, who had doubled in Tim's car, drove all the way to Wichita, just to get milk shakes. Bill and Bev sat in the back and necked the whole way, while Constance slid over to lean against Tim. She laid her hand on the inside of his right thigh, as they talked and listened to the radio, to drown out the liquid sound of long, wet kisses coming from the back seat.

"I should have Bill drive on the way back," said Tim.

"Why?" Constance teased.

"I want to kiss you," he said softly.

"You can kiss me when you take me home," she said.

"Why can't I kiss you in the back seat?" he moaned.

"Because I know what else you'll want to do in the back seat," she said.

"I'm not like that," he said, defending himself.

She shocked both herself and him, when her hand slid up his thigh, to rest on the lump in his pants.

"Yes you are," she said. She slid her hand back down.

"Ohhhh Connie," he moaned.

"I, however, am not that kind of girl," she sighed.

"I know," he wispered. "That's one reason I like you so much."

They took Constance home first, and Bill and Bev waited in the car while Tim took Constance to her front door. It seemed to take an awfully long time for Tim to kiss Constance good night, so Bill and Bev kissed in the car too.

Bill's hand strayed to her breast again, and she let him squeeze her for a while.

"You know I like that," she panted into his mouth. "But it's dangerous."

"I'm dying here," he moaned.

"I'm sorry," she said, not sorry at all. When he was like this it made her feel powerful and loved, all at the same time.

"I can't stand this," he whined. "You have to marry me."

"I do?"

In the past, they had beaten around the bush about the idea of getting married. It was things like, "Have you ever thought about getting married?" and, "I see married people, and wonder what that would be like." He had always maintained that, if he ever decided to ask "a girl", it wouldn't be until very close to graduation. She had played along, by saying that, if "a boy" asked her to get married before she was sure she'd graduate, she'd have to say "no". This was the first time it was really out in the open.

"I'll just die if I don't know that, some day, I'll get to touch you," he moaned.

"I don't want you to die," she said, her hand going very close to his throbbing penis.

He sat back, looking at her in the dark.

"Bev, will you marry me?"

"Yes," she said, almost immediately.

He didn't take his lips off hers, or his hand off her breast, until Tim opened the door, and the interior light went on.

Bobby was actually asleep when Bev came into his room. She felt no guilt about waking him up.

"I need you bad, tonight," she whispered, kissing him awake. "I have news, and I need you really bad."

Prudence was making breakfast when Constance shuffled into the kitchen. The twins were, thankfully, still sleeping.

"Did you have fun last night?" she asked her daughter.

"I had too much fun," said Constance, yawning.

"Too much fun?"

Constance brightened, coming fully awake as if by magic.

"Tim asked me to go steady with him!" she squealed.

"Awwww, how sweet," said Prudence.

"He kissed me too," said the girl.

"Do I need to put you on birth control?" asked Prudence, joking.

There was a long pause, long enough for Prudence to turn and look at Constance, who seemed to be thinking seriously about that.

"I think that might be a good idea," said Constance.

Rhonda sat in front of her vanity, and looked into the mirror. Her mind was telling her that he would come. Her eyes were telling her he would not be interested. At first, as she played the part of a woman, satisfied by her extramarital lover, it had been fun. Janet was obviously a little jealous. Maybe because of that, Rhonda admitted to herself that she'd gone a bit overboard in her references to what Bobby had done to her. She knew, from what really had happened, that he was whimsical, and funny, and a bit mischievous. He had been very kind to her, recognizing her terror, and letting her off the hook. Janet had, after all, hired him to make love to her best friend. Her best friend had been immobilized with fear. He could have just taken her and collected his money. He had not done so.

That was part of the problem. Janet had left them alone, and he really could have just taken her. She wouldn't have been able to stop him, either physically, or emotionally. He wouldn't even have had to use force. True, she would have bawled her eyes out, while it was happening ... but he could have done it. The fact that he had not, began to work against her as days passed. What if he hadn't, because he found her repulsive?

Oh sure, he had said she was pretty, and paid her other compliments, but, he was a gigolo of sorts ... wasn't he? He had professional skills ... tricks of the trade ... that he used on his "clients" ... didn't he? He'd told her to remind Janet she owed him the money, after all.

But he hadn't taken her to bed.

Now, as she looked in the mirror, she thought that, if she were him, she wouldn't take her to bed either. She looked at the extra twenty pounds she carried. She saw bits and pieces of it ... under her chin ... between her breasts and her shoulders ... on an abdomen that, if it were Janet's, would be flat, but which, on her, was rounded. She couldn't see her thighs in the mirror, but didn't need to. She knew there was some there too.

Her hair looked limp and dull. Her lips looked colorless.

When she had called him, she’d still been high on the fun of it all. She had chosen February twenty-ninth, the extra day in this leap year, as the day she would welcome him, to get more than a kiss she could still feel resonating through her mind and a few strokes on the outsides of her breasts. She could still feel her hand in his, as they went into the shower water, part of their game to fool Janet. When she called him, and asked him to come back, she'd been horny.

Now, on the day she had looked forward to so much, just a couple of weeks ago, she just felt hopeless. She didn't know how to use makeup, to put color in her pale face. She'd tried lipstick, but it smudged past her lips, and she'd wiped it off.

She was startled by the bell, and she looked frantically at the clock. He was early! She was naked! She snatched up her robe, and pulled it on, belting it without thinking. Her feet took her to the door, while her mind screamed, "Don't answer it!"

"Hi," he said. He was smiling.

Her stomach did flip flops, and she stared at him as he stepped forward, making her back up.

He took off his coat, and she stood there, unable to take it. He tossed it toward a chair.

"You're nervous again," he said softly.

She swallowed. Why was her mouth so dry all of a sudden?

"You look nice," he said.

"No I don't." Her voice was almost a grunt. She hadn't meant to say that. It had just come out.

"I get to decide that," he said, still smiling.

As she focused on his face, the image came to her suddenly of a face she had seen a thousand times, when she was much younger. It was a face in the hundreds of comic books she'd stared at, as she dreamed of what life might be like if she were one of the characters in it. She'd always wanted to be Lois ... Lois Lane. She felt mesmerized by his face, with the strong jaw line, and the black hair, with the same curl on his forehead. There were no glasses, and his face wasn't Clark's. It was the face of Clark's alter ego.

He reached for her hand. He'd just come in from the cold, but his hand felt like it was burning.

As her eyes looked at that face, and her mind tried to reconcile itself to the situation she was in, she chose the fantasy ... because it was familiar. In the fantasy, she felt strong and capable. In the fantasy, Superman had just said she looked nice ... and Superman never lied. Everybody knew that.

Superman reached out and untied the knot of her robe. Superman spread the halves of it wide, and those dark eyes slid down her body.

"You look very nice," said her hero.

Oddly, it was when Superman picked her up in his arms, bending to scoop her legs out from under her that the fantasy crashed. She felt herself being lifted as if she weighed nothing at all, and something slapped the face of her mind and said, "Not even Superman could lift you, you cow!"

Suddenly Bobby Dalton's face was right in front of hers. She felt the tears well up, and her vision went blurry.

"It's all right," he said, his breath in her face. His breath smelled like peanut butter, for some reason. "It will be all right."

How he thought it would all be all right escaped her. He was carrying her to her bedroom, where there was a bed. She was naked. She looked down to see her robe framing her naked front. That little roll on her belly had bunched up as her butt sagged in his arms. Any minute he'd put her on the bed, pull the covers over her, kiss her on the forehead, and say, "Get some sleep. You'll feel better."

Her expectations were met when he lowered her to the bed, and pulled his arms out from under her back and knees. She felt the tightness in her chest that meant she was going to sob, and fought it.

An almost electrical shock shot through her, and her sob came out as a gasping cry. She blinked, raised her head, and identified the feeling as coming from her left breast ... no ... her left nipple. She saw his lips sealed around it, and then saw her breast elongate, as his cheeks caved in, and he pulled his head back. The electricity being generated in her nipple jangled her nerves and she gasped again. Her nipple suddenly came free, and her breast snapped back to its original shape. He immediately moved his head, and started generating electricity in the other nipple.

Then his hand started stroking her abdomen, over that little pooch of flesh. He squeezed it and rubbed, his hand dipping down to tease her glossy brown pubic hair. Her legs involuntarily drew up and spread, as her heels tried to find purchase on the slick bedspread, in preparation for thrusting her loins up. He kept rubbing and sucking until she wanted to scream. She groaned instead.

"Ohhhhhh, pleeease."

He let the nipple pop out of his mouth and his face appeared over hers.

"You like that?" he asked, smiling.

"I can't stand it," she moaned.

"I think you can," he said.

He leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips, pushing the tip of his tongue against her teeth. She felt the insane urge to suck his tongue, and tried to, but he pulled it loose and rose back up.

"Would you like this?" he asked.

Suddenly his hand slid down and a finger slipped between her labia, pressing the tip into her and wiggling back and forth, pushing her clitty from side to side.

"Ahhhhh," she moaned, and her hips did their thing. As they came up, his finger slid deeper into her.

"If you can't stand that I can stop," he said softly.

"Nooooooo," she whined. Her hips didn't know what to do now. His finger felt so good in her that she just wanted to lie there and feel that, but her body wouldn't cooperate. It jerked and moved all over the place.

"I think you need to have an orgasm," he said, sliding his finger out of her.

"Oh pleeease," she whined. She meant, "Please don't stop," but Bobby heard her asking for an orgasm.

Then she was distracted beyond belief, as he stood and started shedding his clothes. His chest and shoulders were bared first, and she felt a hunger grip her loins that she'd never felt before. Then his pants were down, and he bent over. When he stood up, there were just his underwear left, and the front of them was pointed toward her. She licked her lips as his thumbs went to the waistband, and pushed.

When she saw it, another moan leapt from her throat. His looked so different from the misty memories she had of Herb's, and it was almost like seeing one for the first time. It looked almost menacing to her, but it was also beautiful in a strange way. She realized she was lying, almost naked, with her legs spread obscenely, and part of her brain told her to close them. She started to, but stopped when he spoke.

"Oh, no," he said. "Don't close them. I owe you that orgasm."

She realized what he was going to do, but had no time to react to it before he had jumped onto the bed, bouncing her, and his face lowered between her legs.

She took in a breath to stop him, but then his lips and tongue touched her and it came out as a grunt, as she sat half up. She flopped back almost immediately, because her hips suddenly wanted to push up again, and she couldn't do it if her back wasn't on the bed.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh," she groaned, as the most delicious feelings coursed through her pussy. Herb had never done this either. This alone, felt better than anything she had ever felt with him. This had to be an orgasm.

He kept going, and she felt more and more agitated. A pressure of some kind seemed to be building in her loins, and it made her feel like she was being inflated, like a balloon. His tongue lashed her clit until she thought her face would explode with heat. Something very strange started to seep into her loins. She knew something was going to happen, but she had no idea what it was going to be.

"I feel ... so ... strange," she panted.

He didn't answer. He just kept going, and the feeling got more and more intense. It wasn't pain, exactly, but it was close to it.

Then, suddenly, it was like something inside of her had been pushed over the edge of a cliff, and she felt like her whole body was expanding.

"Aiiiieeeeeee," she screamed, as the most delicious sensations she had ever felt in her entire life washed over her. It was like coming from the cold dark, into the bright sun, but it was so much better than that. She realized she was letting out a hoarse scream, and suddenly remembered that Herb was sleeping. She covered her mouth.

Then, clearly before whatever was happening to her was over, he was kissing up her body and she suddenly felt full down there. She raised her head to see his pubic hair mesh with hers, and groaned again as, for the first time in a decade, her pussy was full of hot, throbbing cock.

This cock was harder than Herb's, and made her feel full in a delightful way. He was obviously hard. She could't possibly feel that full unless he was. That fact alone registered in her brain as a minor nova. Herb didn't find her attractive because he was a queer. But this man did find her attractive. He had to. He could't be this hard if he didn't. Her earlier doubts vanished like smoke in the wind and she paid attention to what was happening to her. He didn't move it in and out of her, but kept it in deep, and just rubbed the dickens out of her clitty. She felt that pressure building again and was delighted.

This time she had some idea what to expect, and she was eager to experience that amazing feeling again. As she was pushed over the cliff again, his lips came down on hers, and she was able to suck his tongue as her body vibrated with joy. She tasted the tangy taste that she instinctively knew was her flavor, but didn't care at all, as her second orgasm slithered around in her belly. It was a different kind of orgasm, with sharper pains, that shot to her nipples as he rubbed against her. Those pains made her voice a strained, high-pitched keen, that turned into a rhythmic grunting, somehow, that was in time with the rhythm her hips had finally found, pushing up at him as his hips came around in another circle, anticipating when her clit would be crushed and rubbed a certain way, and meeting that with almost frantic thrusts that increased the streaks of sweet pain.

It all culminated when her whole body went rigid, and stayed that way for ten seconds, while she felt her eyesight dimming, and the world was made of sparks and flashes that were consuming her body.

She went limp, unable to maintain the muscular tension in any part of her body.

Now he stroked in and out, like Herb had, but as he did it he kissed her neck, and cheeks and eyes as she gasped for breath. He was breathing hard too. She could feel the puffs of warm air on her face.

Slowly he went faster and faster, which felt good, but didn't threaten to make her explode, like had just happened. She felt like she could lie there and feel this forever. It was like the first sip of the perfect chocolate shake, except that it happened over and over and over.

"Uhhh," he moaned, and his eyes closed. He had been moving so fast that it was shaking her, moving her body up and down in the bed. But that too, was like a massage of sorts. He stopped, with just the tip in her, and then, very slowly pushed all the way in.

She felt the warmth of his sperm shooting into her, as he gave a long clearly satisfied sigh of relief. His prick kept spurting, even after he was all the way in, and his grimace told her he was experiencing some kind of sweet pain too, just like she had.

Rhonda Wilson, at that moment, was proud. She was proud that this man could achieve that kind of ecstasy while he was with her. She hadn't felt proud like this for as long as she could remember. It was almost better than the feelings he had made wash over her like a tidal wave. He hadn't stopped, like Herb stopped. He hadn't gone soft, like Herb went soft. He wasn't apologizing to her. Instead, he had spurted in her, deep inside, like a real man was supposed to do in this situation.

That semen, flowing into her womb, more than anything else that had happened, told her that she was desirable, and that, when he said she was, he had meant it.

The relief that burst inside her was stronger than anything else that had happened ... even those amazing orgasms. The relief, and understanding that she was a real woman, who had been desired by a real man, left her a sobbing wreck.

"Shhhhhh," he said as she gave out great wracking sobs. "It's all right."

"I knooooooow," she bawled. "I'm haaaapy," she added, showing her teeth in an attempt at smiling, as tears ran down her cheeks and got onto her neck.

He rolled, and pulled her to her side, putting an arm under her head, so she could lie comfortably, and let her get control of herself. The whole time, he just looked at her face. He didn't get up and leave. She felt the ecstasy of cuddling with the man who had just flushed her full of semen, begin to overwhelm her again, but clamped down hard. She didn't want to keep crying in front of him. He deserved anything she could give him, but she didn't have the faintest idea of how to communicate that to him. Finally he spoke.

"I'm sorry I rushed things. I guess I got excited."

Again he confirmed she was a woman who could hold the interest of a real man. Now, instead of crying, she wanted to laugh.

"I forgive you," she said, sniffling.

"I promise I'll do better next time," he said.

She was pretty sure she couldn't survive him doing any better, but she said, "Thank you," instead of that.

"It was my pleasure," he said. "I would like to do it again."

"Really?" she felt all kinds of thrills shoot through her.

"Lots of times," he said.

"Okay," she said, meekly.

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