The Making of a Gigolo (7) - Rhonda Wilson

by Lubrican

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

Chapter Six

Like the other women, when Bobby made himself available, Rhonda began to feel like she couldn't go on living without him in her life. He saw her every day for a week, and then every other day for two weeks. Her whole demeanor changed.

Part of that was because, occasionally, Bobby wanted her to strip for him, and just let him look at her. He walked around her, tracing a fingertip along her hip, or across her back or buttocks. Sometimes he stood behind her, his hot prick pressed into her back, while he reached around and just played with her breasts. No woman could go through that without knowing, deep inside her, that the man doing this found her attractive.

There were wild, hurried couplings, when Bobby showed up and had to be someplace else soon. But, as he had with the other women, he gave her lots of attention, in the beginning, and then weaned her off of him slowly.

The changes in her were obvious. She was more confident. She bought different clothes, and experimented with makeup, asking Janet to help her.

Janet was mystified, at first. After their first "session", there hadn't been that much change in her friend. But, later, the change was obvious and tantalizing.

One day, Rhonda asked what she should do with her hair.

"I want it to be pretty for Bobby," she said.

"He's that good?" Janet asked.

"He's better than good," said Rhonda firmly. "He makes me feel like a woman."

"You are a woman," said Janet. "A woman doesn't have to have a man to make her feel like a woman."

"This one does," said Rhonda, not embarrassed at all. "At least for now," she added.

"What does he do?" asked Janet, her curiosity bubbling over.

One of the changes in Rhonda came out then. She looked at her friend and, in a way completely uncharacteristic for Rhonda Wilson, and in a voice that was full of passion, said: "You mind your Ps and Qs, girlfriend, and I might hire him to show you."

Janet blinked. She had admitted to herself that he was a luscious hunk of man, and, during a few nighttime fantasies, and while engaged in the use of her dildo, Janet had let herself imagine being under him. But she had shied away from men for a long time. The thought of being under any man's thumb ... or body ... made her nervous. Then again, Rhonda hadn't suffered at all. Not one bit.

"Has he asked for more money?" she asked, suspiciously.

"I can afford him," said Rhonda, answering specifically as Bobby had asked her to answer such a question.

"And he's really that good?"

"Good doesn't even come close to what he is," said Rhonda. "Now, quit avoiding the subject. What shall I do with my hair?

Like February twenty-ninth had been a leap of epic proportions for Rhonda, April first turned out to live up to its reputation too.

Mary went into labor early in the morning. Considering that it was her first child, it was a singularly unremarkable labor. By the time her mother got to the hospital, the doctor was already having Mary moved to the delivery room. A very short hour later, she gave birth to a healthy eight pound one ounce boy.

What made it suitable for April Fool’s Day, was that both Mary and her mother, after just one peek at the baby, knew that his father was Bobby. It wasn't just the coal black hair, or already wide shoulders. His chin and nose and eyes all looked just like Bobby's baby pictures, in the album back home.

Fred was oblivious, completely manic with the joy of everything going so smoothly, and about the baby being so beautiful and healthy. His kisses to the mother of "his" child were so heartfelt that she convinced herself that, as soon as it was possible, he would be the next man to impregnate her. He deserved to father her children. She loved Bobby, and she'd love this baby forever, but she wanted to have one of Fred's too.

Fred left, to go stand outside the nursery and stare at his son.

Mary looked at her mother, now five months pregnant herself, and showing obviously. Mirriam smiled.

"He's very handsome," she said. Her eyes said more. "He certainly bears a family resemblance."

Mary blushed. She decided to bluff. "Of course he does," she said. "I'm his mommy."

"Yes," said Mirriam. "You are."

She rubbed her swollen belly then, for some reason.

Mirriam's suspicions gelled even further, when the happy couple named their son Jordan Lee. Lee was the name of Fred's grandfather. Jordan was Bobby's middle name.

There wasn't anything she could do about it, though. In a way, it made her feel a little bit better. She knew about Flo, of course, and, based on the way some of his other sisters treated him, she suspected them too. In a way, she hoped the child growing inside her came out looking exactly like little Jordan Lee. She'd be happy if it looked like Ted too, of course ... but she didn't know if she'd be happier ... or not.

It wasn't until the seventh of April that Bill Gregory saw his fiancée holding little Jordan. He saw the sparkle in her eyes, and the helpless love she felt for the baby was written on her face. He left the room quickly, before his erection could fully mature. He knew he had to wait at least another three months, because the wedding wasn't going to be until July. In that moment, Bill Gregory decided that he was going to make his new wife pregnant just as fast as was humanly possible. He wanted her to be that happy as his wife. He wanted to see that look on her face when his own son was in her arms.

Later that night, he parked the car out on South Point road.

Bev looked over at him in the dark. "I know why you came here," she said. "You're going to try to get into my panties again."

His teeth showed white in the dark. "Yup," he said.

"It's only three more months," she said.

"When I saw you with that baby, I knew I had to get you pregnant," he said.

"Silly, even if I'd let you, I'm on the pill."

"The pill? Why?" He sounded worried. "You won't let me do anything. Why are you on the pill?"

"Because, you handsome man," she said, "you make me so crazy sometimes that I might use very bad judgment some day."

"Really?" He sighed. "You think about letting me?"

"Constantly," she said.

"But ... if you're on the pill ... then it wouldn't hurt anything if we ... did it," he said, reasonably.

"You listen to me," she said, her voice heated. "When I go on my honeymoon, I want to do all kinds of things with you that we've never done. I want to know that you're crazy for me, and that everything is as new for you, as it is for me. Don't ruin that by asking me to do all those things now."

"I know," he said. "It's just that I get so horny. I got a boner when I saw you holding your sister's baby!" He looked out the window, and then back. "Couldn't we do at least one thing ... and save everything else for the honeymoon?"

She'd actually been waiting for an opening to do what she'd wanted to do herself for months. She decided this was it.

"All right," she said. "There's something I could do for you ... because I love you. The problem is, I don't know how to do it."

"What?" he asked anxiously.

She leaned over and unzipped him. He was so shocked that he just sat there and let her.

"Move the seat back," she said.

He reached for the lever and pulled, while pushing hard with his feet. The seat shot back a foot. She reached in through his fly, and tried to find his penis. She could have done it easily. She'd learned how to get to Bobby however he was dressed. But she acted inexperienced. She had to, to maintain the illusion that she was doing this for the first time in her life.

"I can't reach you," she whined. "Push your pants down."

"Really?" he gasped, his hands fumbling with his belt. Within fifteen seconds, his pants were around his thighs, and his boner was exposed. He expected her to jack him off, and, to be honest, that was fine with him.

"I'm not going to be very good at this," she said softly. "But I'll try to learn, okay?"

"I can help you," he gasped. "I've done it a thousand times."

"No you haven't," she said. "At least you'd better not have done it ... not even once."

"What?" he panted.

"This," she said, and lowered her head to take him in her mouth.

Bev moved his semen around in her mouth, before she swallowed it. It was similar to Bobby, but different too. She liked it. Bill's head was lying back on the seat headrest, and he was catching his breath. She had cheated only a little bit, doing something perfectly, and then stopping to ask if she was doing it right. Invariably he was effusive in his praise, and he never seemed to notice that she played him like a cheap banjo, strumming his emotions and body until he erupted. She swallowed, and her gulp was loud in the car.

"I swallowed it," she said shyly. "I didn't know what else to do with it. I didn't want to make a mess. Is that okay?"

Bill rolled his head toward her. "I want to marry you now, tonight. We can wake up the preacher."

She laughed happily.

"I was afraid I wouldn't like it," she said. "But I do. I think I'm going to want to do that a lot. Is that all right?"

"Honey," he panted. "You'll never get any argument from me."

"You're not mad at me for ruining that part of our honeymoon ... are you?"

"I forgive you," he panted. "I want to forgive you every night for the next three months too." His teeth showed in the dark again, as he grinned.

"Okay," she said, leaning over to kiss him.

In another car, on another road, Constance Harris was in a lot of trouble. Being on the pill hadn't made her want to have sex with Tim any more than she already did, which wasn't very much. It wasn't that she didn't like him. She liked him a lot. They were going steady, and she liked that idea just fine. But Tim hadn't quite risen to the level where she dreamed of his penis, or thought about letting him put it in her. She knew he got erections for her, and that was fine. But her inexperience caused her to assume that the erections didn't mean all that much. They weren't ... urgent. After all, she'd felt Bobby's erection pressed against her, and nothing had happened. And, she'd felt Tim's erection pressed against her ... and nothing had happened.

Constance was a bundle of inconsistencies. She had seen Bobby and her mother making love. She had seen Bobby's prick spurt. She was vastly more knowledgeable about the way sex worked, and looked, than most of the girls her age. The problem was there was only one man that experience resulted from. That was Bobby.

And, when she did daydream of what it might be like to be under a man, feeling all those things she had only seen, it was Bobby on top of her.

At the same time, she loved being with Tim ... talking to him ... doing things with him ... kissing him. She'd gotten to the point where she couldn't wait for him to kiss her, each time they got together. She was kissing him now, in fact, and loving it.

His hand, on her side, slid upwards, and his thumb touched the side of her breast. In an odd kind of way, perhaps because that was something that Bobby hadn't done to her, it was a new feeling. She wasn't stupid. She knew Tim was trying to make a move on her. But, as happens with many girls who have only believed they were desirable for a short part of their lives, it was also a compliment.

And ... it felt good. She was immediately struck with the idea that, if his thumb on the side of her breast felt so good ... what would it feel like if he touched the whole thing?

She had seen Bobby's hands molded over Bev's breasts, while she sat on him, naked, rubbing. And, she'd seen Bobby sucking Bev's nipples. Bev seemed to really love that.

Constance had a glimmer of why, as Tim continued to kiss her, and let his thumb stroke, in a circle, along the side of her breast.

The inconsistencies in Constance's mind were well known to her. She had asked her mother to put her on the pill, because of the hints of feelings she was having. She was firm in her belief that you shouldn't let a boy go too far, or he'd lose respect for you. At the same time, Bev let Bobby go way too far, and that hadn't seemed to cause any trouble at all. Flo and Linda had watched with her, that one time, and she was quite sure they watched a lot more. They kissed Bobby too, with long, lingering kisses, just like the one he had given her that night, before she went back to Flo's bedroom and slept in Mary's old bed. She had touched herself, that night.

She remembered what touching herself had felt like. It had felt really good. She remembered touching her breasts too, as she examined them, as they grew. That felt really nice too. Now, Tim's thumb, just making circles on the side of her breast felt good ... better than when she did it.

She wondered if it would feel better than when she did it if she let him touch her other places too.

That was why Constance was in trouble. Constance was getting horny ... very horny.

She tried to use her intelligence to deal with the situation. She was too inexperienced to know that passion often overrules intelligence, and reason, when emotions begin to surge.

Part of her reasoning was that, when Bev and Bobby had become emotional, he had given her an orgasm, and then she had given him one. They hadn't had intercourse. So, she thought, wouldn't she be able to do the same thing with Tim? She knew it would feel good. She knew he'd be delighted. She liked being able to delight him.

She pulled back.

"You're touching me," she said.

"I know," he said, as his hand abandoned her breast and slid back down to her waist. "I'm sorry. I guess I get kind of excited, when we kiss."

"I didn't say you had to stop," she said, feeling a surge of something very strong invade her chest.

"Really?"

"I liked it," she said. "It makes me want to touch you too."

"Really?" he croaked.

What got Constance Harris out of trouble, that night, at least, was the fact that Tim Appleton was, at heart, a nice guy. He'd been raised by his parents to respect girls. He had a rational mind too, and he tried to use it as often as possible. He liked Constance more than he'd ever liked any girl. She was sweet, and not vulgar, like some girls he knew. She was very honest too. She laughed at things that were funny, and didn't, even to be polite, when something wasn't funny, but was presented that way. Like racial jokes. He'd been with her one time when a friend of his had told a racial joke. He had laughed, going along with things. She had not. She hadn't gotten in the guy's face or anything. She just didn't play along with something that he knew was stupid ... and that he had played along with. She had made him feel ashamed, but in a good way. He realized that she was a prize, rather than some passing interest.

Therefore, thirty minutes after her sweet, soft voice had said he didn't have to stop touching her, he decided to regulate things himself. Initially, after feeling his very first breast without being slapped, he had gone from sliding his hand under her shirt, and caressing her stomach, to pushing his hand into her bra. She hadn't objected to any of that, and just kept kissing him.

Then her hand had gone to the front of his jeans, to squeeze and feel what was there. Since she was touching him ... down there ... it only seemed normal to touch her ... down there. She didn't stop him when his hand landed on her knee, and slowly moved up. When he pressed at the junction of her legs, through her jeans, her legs spread, instead of closing. As their kisses got heavier - they couldn't get any longer, these days - he had rubbed there furiously, not knowing exactly what he was doing, but knowing that rubbing was supposed to be involved.

She had wiggled and squirmed and panted and squealed. Tim had never seen a girl or woman have an orgasm, so he didn't recognize what she did as that, but it was obvious she was having a good time, and that made him both proud and even hornier.

Constance, having recreated the first part of what she'd seen Bobby and Bev do - the woman having an orgasm - moved on to the second part. She unzipped Tim, who sat there, stunned, and basically did the same thing her best friend was doing six miles away in another car.

The only difference was that she wasn't ready to put her mouth on him. Once she'd gotten him to lower his jeans, and move the seat back, she sighed as, for the first time, her hand was filled with something that she couldn't see well, but which felt wonderful in her hand, just like she'd known it would. She'd known Bobby's would feel good in her hand, if she was ever allowed to grasp it.

She copied Bev's up and down motion, not knowing exactly how to do it, but knowing it was supposed to be done. She didn't even mind when he got her hand all messy and sticky, as he bucked and groaned and told her how much he loved what she was doing.

That was the point at which Tim, who was happier than he'd ever been in his whole life, had the crystal clear thought that a line had been crossed that would lead to Constance Harris having his baby, if things didn't get put under control.

Basically, Tim decided, in the aftermath of his first female-induced orgasm that being jacked off just had to be enough.

Being so completely satisfied, at that moment, helped.

In early May, Bobby visited the hospital, where the OB nurses, by now, knew him well, by virtue of the fact that he seemed to know, and visit, an inordinately large number of women who had just had a baby.

This time, he was visiting Tilly Johnson, who had, the day before, delivered her second child, a daughter, who was named Meredith.

"Isn't she beautiful?" asked Tilly, as he held the tiny bundle in his arm.

"Yes, she is," he said. "Just like her mother."

"We can't thank you enough," said the woman who had just had Bobby's baby, because her own husband was unable to get her pregnant.

"Oh, it was my pleasure," he said, smiling. "You know that."

"I do," said Tilly, who was well aware of how enthusiastic Bobby was in bed. "I'm going to miss you, I think."

"Miss me?" he said.

"I think two is enough to satisfy me," she said. "Jake and I will raise them and be happy."

Bobby understood then. In the beginning of their relationship, Tilly had needed the loving, sexual touch of a man. At that time, her crippled husband wasn't providing that, because he didn't think he could. When it became clear that he could have sex with her, she didn't need Bobby any more, and ended the sexual part of the relationship. She was already pregnant by then, and had Bobby's baby. When Jake had then tried to get her pregnant again, and repeatedly failed, she revived their relationship, but only during those times when she was fertile. Tilly availed herself of what Bobby could offer, only insomuch as what she really needed. For everything else, she went to Jake. Now, she was telling him that her legs would be closed to him again, this time, forever.

From Bobby's perspective, that was fine. He only wanted to be with women who wanted to be with him.

"You're always welcome at the house," she said. "I want them to know you."

"Oh, I'll be around," he said, smiling. "You break lots of things."

She grinned, and then sobered as he handed their daughter back to her. "I'll always love you," Tilly said softly.

He bent over and kissed her on the nose, and his baby on the forehead.

"I'll always love you too," he said. "Thanks for letting me give you children."

"Thanks for giving me my husband back," she said, her eyes welling up.

"Hey, this is supposed to be a time of happiness," he said, standing up.

"I am happy," she said, wiping her eyes with her free hand. "You played a big role in that."

"It was my pleasure," said Bobby again.

Rhonda was sitting in a kitchen chair. She had just fed Bobby dinner, and was waiting for him to take her to bed. When she knew he was coming over, she always wore the robe she had been wearing, the first time he had made love to her. That time, she hadn't even taken it off. It has just been opened, and she lay on it as he took her places she had never been before.

Since then, she did take the robe off, because it was more comfortable being completely naked with him, but she always wore it until he took her to bed.

He stood, and went behind her, to rub her shoulders. She leaned back, relaxing. She loved his touch. He tugged at the collar, and she leaned forward as he pulled the robe down off her shoulders, baring her breasts. Still, he massaged her shoulders and neck, and her head lolled. His hands slowly slid down to cup her breasts, and lift them.

That was when Herb, her husband, walked into the room, fully two hours sooner than usual. He had some business to take care of before he went to work, and had come out of his sanctuary early for that reason.

Herb had never seen Bobby before. He blinked, staring at the man's hands on Rhonda's breasts.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asked, heat in his voice.

Rhonda, who had seen him come into the room, had also gone through an amazingly complicated thinking process in the ten seconds it took Herb to speak. Embarrassment had exploded in her like a nova. But, like a nova, the explosion was there, and then gone again, as she moved on to resentment. Herb didn't love her. Herb had his boyfriends. Herb had manipulated her for twelve years ... longer, if you included their short courtship. Herb had married her under false pretenses. Herb was a coward who wouldn't admit to the outside world that he was gay, and had dragged her through a loveless marriage to try to convince the world he was "normal."

The tone of his voice caused her to move on to anger. She didn't question him when he brought a boyfriend home. He wasn't blatant about it, true, but she knew it happened, and he certainly didn't ask her permission to do so.

"This is my lover, Herb," she said, her voice casual, but tight. "His name is Bobby. You've never introduced me to any of your lovers, Herb," she added.

"What the fuck are you doing?" rasped the man, who felt the edge of panic creeping up on him. There was a stranger in his house ... a stranger who was feeling up his wife. He might not have sexual feelings for her, but she was still his wife! And she had said something about his boyfriends! Right out loud, in front of this stranger!

"Well," said Bobby, taking his cue from Rhonda. "Right now, I'm feeling Rhonda's breasts. I like feeling them. They're beautiful, and soft."

"You can't do that!" said Herb, his voice belligerent.

"Why not?" asked Bobby. "You don't do it. Somebody should. They're really beautiful breasts."

Herb blanched. This guy knew about him. Rhonda had told him. His world started to cave in on him, and his attitude changed markedly.

"Honey," he moaned. "You said you wouldn't tell anybody. This could ruin us!"

"It could ruin you," said Rhonda, feeling the heat of anger give her courage she'd never had before. Bobby's hands on her breasts seemed to give her strength too. He hadn't moved them, and they were still massaging her, while all this was happening.

"But it won't," she said, calming down. "Bobby's known for months, and hasn't told anybody. He's interested in me, Herb ... not you."

"You can't leave me," whined her husband.

"I'm not going to leave you," she said firmly. "Bobby and I are lovers, but that's all. You have your lovers, and I've started having mine. That's all."

"There are others?" choked Herb.

"No," she said. "Not yet. Right now Bobby is all I need. He may be all I ever need. I don't really know, Herb. But don't worry. If I ever choose another lover, I won't bring him here."

"This is too dangerous," he moaned.

"No, it's not," she said. "And, even if it is, you risk exposure every time you do ... what you do. You've indulged your desires for twelve years, Herb. I get to do that now too. I'm not going to manipulate you, the way you manipulated me. Why are you up so early?"

Her change of subject caught him off guard.

"I have to see a man about buying a boat," he said.

"A boat? You never said anything to me about a boat." Rhonda's voice still held anger.

"It's a houseboat," said Herb, nervously. "I can go fishing, or whatever. I didn't think you'd be interested in something like that."

"How would you know?" she asked, shivering as Bobby pulled the tips of his fingers together to squeeze her nipples. "You never asked me. You never talk to me about things like that."

Herb was staring at the hands on his wife's breasts. This was too unreal to him to understand. The man kept playing with her tits, like Herb wasn't even there! And Rhonda! What had come over her? This wasn't the Rhonda he knew ... had lived with for twelve years. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"I talk to you," he said, weakly.

"You say hello, and goodbye," she said. "I see you maybe two hours a day. I can't remember the last time we had an actual conversation about anything."

"I know how you feel about me," he said. "I thought we had an understanding. It's worked for us this long. Why do you want to change it now?"

"It's worked for you this long," said Rhonda, brushing Bobby's hands away from her breasts and standing up. She pulled her robe back on, but didn't close the chest. "I've been miserable for almost all of our marriage, Herb. But you didn't care. You just went out and had fun. Well ... go buy your houseboat, if you want. But remember this. It's our houseboat, and you should have asked me first. We're still married, even if it's in name only. I might want to go fishing too!" She paused for a second. "Or whatever."

She took Bobby's hand, and pulled him toward her bedroom.

Rhonda needed Bobby every day for a while, after the confrontation with Herb. Of course, the fact that she happened to be ovulating might have had something to do with that too. In any case, one result of the confrontation with her gay husband was that Rhonda got one too many sperm injected into her by her lover. An argument with her gay husband ... got Rhonda Wilson pregnant.

It was really quite ironic.

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