The Making of a Gigolo (8) - Felicity Chumley

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Foreword

This is the eighth in a series of stories about how Bobby Dalton was transformed, from a normal teenaged boy, into a man sought after by many women. His story starts with "The Making of a Gigolo - Tilly Johnson", and there is much information in that first story, and the ones that followed it, that will be useful to you in understanding what happens in this story.

For your fullest enjoyment, and because parts of each story are continued in succeeding ones, please read the stories in order.

Bob

Chapter One

1972 - summer

1972 was a pretty interesting year for Bobby, as the seeds he had sown, and which had taken root in fertile soil, began to be harvested.

In June, Jill gave birth to a bouncing baby boy, with coal black hair, whom she named Steven, after her favorite uncle. Had anyone taken the time to notice, or compare, they'd have seen that this baby looked startlingly like another baby named Jordan, who had been born earlier in the Spring, to Bobby's sister, Mary. To that fictional observer, it would have become more and more apparent that, though the women he impregnated were quite different, Bobby's genetic make up was dominant, at least when the babies he made were boys.

Christy Brown, was then eight months pregnant herself, also with Bobby's baby. She spent as much time with her housemate Jill, and the new baby, as possible, to get experience for her own impending adventure in motherhood. It was less time than she wanted to, because her photography studio was doing quite well.

There would be more births of Bobby's children that summer, but those were buns that were already in the oven. While they matured, Bobby was not idle.

He'd been making love with his second oldest sister, Florence, since December of the previous year. Beverly, his third oldest sister, regularly did everything BUT fuck him, as her upcoming marriage to Bill Gregory, scheduled for September, crept ever closer. His fourth oldest sister, Linda, had progressed from watching him pleasure Bev, to lying in bed with him, naked, as his finger taught her pussy how to enjoy something stiff and long in it, and his lips taught her nipples how much joy could be produced from little sucking motions. His lips on hers were something to be taken for granted, these days.

He'd had to suspend, at least temporarily, intercourse with Jill, and Christy, but was providing full service, so to speak, to Rhonda Wilson, who was pregnant, but didn't know it yet. He was also in routine touch with Sherry Winston, who had his daughter, Jessica, almost two years previously. Sam, her husband, thought Jessica was his. Now that the girl was almost two, Sherry had just informed Bobby that he would think the next one of Bobby's children was his too.

The fourth woman Bobby was actively making love to, on an occasional basis, was the woman who had given birth to him, and who was also pregnant. Like Christy, Mirriam was beginning to get so large, though, that lovemaking was difficult for her. Unlike the other women Bobby had impregnated, she did not cotton to the idea of being taken from behind. That all went back to when she saw her other lover, Ted Brandywine, fuck her best friend, Prudence, that way on a blanket, where he later fucked Mirriam too. She had always been a little jealous that he got into Prudence first, even though she hadn't intended to let him into her at all. At least not that day.

It is important to understand that, while Bobby was sexually involved with a variety of women, and had, by the time he was twenty-three, impregnated nine of them, he was not, in the classical sense of the word, a tomcat. He didn't fuck every woman he met. He didn't even think about trying to fuck every woman he met. And, though six of those nine women he'd impregnated, were either married, or engaged to BE married at the time, he didn't seek out women and try to get them to cheat on their husbands. Boiled down the its most basic form, all Bobby did was give some women what they needed. In some cases, that was sex. If a woman was neglected, or abandoned by her husband, and she was lonely and horny, Bobby was willing to meet her needs. It was actually the same with the divorced woman he had impregnated, Jill, and the widow he had impregnated, Prudence.

His mother and sister didn't count in this way. He simply loved them, and wanted them to be happy. It just so happened that he had been making Mary happy for quite some time, in the same ways he was making some of his other sisters happy, when she decided to get married, and wanted to know what was going to happen on her wedding night. The reason she got pregnant, was because she had so much fun learning that, that she practiced it for a month before she got married.

Bobby was not, in the classical sense, a gigolo. Not in the Spring of 1972. True, he had been paid ten dollars to make love to Rhonda, but that was more of a joke, than an actual contractual engagement. Her best friend had offered him the money, and, after he rang her bell, Rhonda had insisted that Janet make good on the debt. Bobby didn't charge anyone to have sex with them, though. He had sex with them because he liked them, and wanted them to be happy.

That, too, would change, in the summer of 1972, as we'll find out later.

The fourth of July was a big day in Granger, Kansas. It was a hard-working town of about five or six thousand people. The mainstay of the economy was still farming, though the fertilizer plant on the edge of town was expanding, and hiring more workers every year. Most of the businesses in town, though, catered to the farmer, generally, and the opportunity to get together and have some good, old-fashioned fun came rarely. The fourth of July was one of those times.

This year, for the first time, there was a traveling carnival in town, so the annual celebration was a little more frenetic. The youth of the town were extra excited to be able to engage in this kind of fun without having to travel to the State Fair, or one of the larger towns, like Great Bend, or Wichita. Those children mingled freely, regardless of their socio-economic background.

The same was not true of their parents. The picnic area was set up with about forty tables, of the kind with folding legs, that are common in churches, and town halls, and civic clubs. They were equally spaced, and all were full, mostly with adults sitting at them.

But there was an invisible dividing line that shifted, a little bit, as people came and went. That line divided the "respectable" people, from those who were not to be seen sitting with. People such as divorced women, who had not remarried ... or women who had children while their husbands were off fighting the Korean war. There weren't that many unmarried women in town who had children, but they were included in that group as well.

Like most social situations, it was somewhat complicated. In day-to-day business dealings, there was no line. Between the children of all these adults, there was no line. And, even though the line was beginning to blur a bit, old habits die hard, so the line still existed in social settings.

Mirriam Dalton, eight months pregnant ... again! ... and still not married after having seven "war babies", sat uncomfortably on one side of the line. She was uncomfortable because she was eight months pregnant, and not because she was an "outcast". Her daughter, who could have sat on the other side of the line, because she was properly married, sat next to her, with her three month old baby, Jordan. Prudence Harris was also at that table, with her nine month old twins, Katherine and Kyle. Jill, with her one month old son, Steven was there too. Christy, eight months pregnant, could have sat on the other side of the line too, because her husband, stationed in Viet Nam, had been home on leave, seven months ago. Only her doctor knew she was actually eight months pregnant, like Mirriam.

Two other people were sitting with them. One was Ted Brandywine, who was the lover of both Prudence and Mirriam, who shared him. The other was Florence, Mirriam's second oldest daughter, and the oldest one living at home. Flo would be twenty in two months, was not dating anyone, and had no intention of dating anyone. Bobby gave her everything she needed, as far as she was concerned. She intended to take over operation of the farm, to allow her mother to "retire" and raise her new baby. She felt too old to run with the younger teens, and so, sat with the adults.

It just so happened that she was sitting next to Ted.

She knew him, of course. She knew he was fucking her mother ... was, in fact, suspected to be the father of the baby that was making Mirriam so uncomfortable right now. She also knew that "things" happened at Prudence's house, when all three of them were there. She didn't really think about that all that much. Her mother was her mother, and she loved her. Whatever she did was her business.

While Flo didn't see that much of Ted, he was invited to supper, occasionally. He had stayed over night twice, but had been gone in the morning, by the time she got up and got to breakfast.

As for Ted, he was pretty well smitten with his two lovers. He had adopted this strange lifestyle after his own divorce, and after moving to Granger to make a new start in life, and teach third grade. He was "Uncle Ted" to Mirriam's daughters, at least the younger ones, and to Constance, Prudence's seventeen year old daughter. The year he'd spent with the two women had been precious to him, and he had no desire to change things.

That Mirriam was less than enthusiastic about lovemaking, at this point, he understood. She had been very enthusiastic, up until a month or two ago. And, Prudence was very enthusiastic again, after having her own twins, though she was worried about getting pregnant again. She knew he wanted her to have his children, and part of her wanted to do that too. They had had serious discussions about it. Both of them knew it was both risky and frivolous for her to get pregnant again, though, and it was beginning to be obvious that measures needed to be taken to prevent that. The same would be true of Mirriam, after she had her baby.

Not that Ted couldn't enjoy making love to them without making them pregnant, but the possibility of pregnancy had added a special spice to their lovemaking, and that would be gone, if protection was used.

It is quite possible that had some effect on Ted, when Florence, out of sheer boredom, started asking him questions about what it was like to be a teacher, and how in the world he was able to keep his patience with children of that age. That led into a deeper discussion about places he'd been, and things he'd done.

As they chatted, he looked at Flo, in one sense, for the first time. He'd seen her, of course, and spoken to her during supper, or when he was coming or going at the farm. She hadn't paid much attention to him, and he hadn't paid much attention to her. When he'd met her she was nineteen, and he was in his mid thirties, so that seemed completely normal.

Now, though, as he watched her face, he couldn't believe how he hadn't noticed how much she favored her mother. Mirriam kept her waist-long hair in a bun, unless she was making love to Ted. Flo's shorter hair was, and always had been in a pony tail when he saw her, so that may have accounted for some of his blindness. But her eyes were Mirriam's eyes, and her mouth was Mirriam's mouth. Her laughter was like her mother's too, and her sharp wit, for that matter.

He found himself enjoying their talk very much.

Linda Dalton was standing, looking up at the Ferris Wheel. The hanging gondolas seemed so frail, as they swung to and fro up there. She'd always been a little nervous about heights, but she'd always also had a fascination with Ferris Wheels. She was trying to work up the courage to buy a ticket, when someone bumped into her. She turned to see Paul Engle, a boy in her class at school.

"Oops, sorry," he said. He had a calculator in his hand, and had been punching numbers on it while he walked.

"That's OK," said Linda.

She knew Paul, but had never talked to him. He was a science geek, and hung around with the other geeks. As she looked at him now, she wondered why people called them geeks. She thought of a geek as a skinny kid with glasses, and oily hair. He wasn't like that at all. He looked like any other boy, except for the calculator in his hand.

"What are you doing?" she asked, looking at the calculator.

He blinked. He wasn't used to pretty girls talking to him, and Linda was pretty, as far as he was concerned.

"Um ... I was just calculating the g-forces that would come into play on the Tilt-a-whirl," he said.

"G-forces?" she said, looking doubtful.

"It's the force that's caused by acceleration, in combination with gravity," he said. He stopped. Girls like her didn't understand this kind of thing.

"Oh, you mean like when they go up in rockets?" she asked.

He blinked again. "Yeah, exactly, or when you're in a car, and it turns a corner fast."

"Yes!" she said, smiling. "That's fun sometimes, but it's scary too."

"It's really only scary if it's uncontrolled, or if the acceleration involved is too much. It can hurt you if it's too much." He couldn't believe he was having this conversation with this interesting girl.

"Yeah, it's scary," she said, looking back at the Ferris Wheel. "It makes my stomach do flip flops. I wish I wasn't too chicken to ride some of these rides."

"Which ones?" he asked.

"The Ferris Wheel, for one," she said.

"Oh, there's hardly any g-force at all involved with that," he said. "On the way up, you're pressed into the seat, but not that much. You really wouldn't notice it. It's on the way down that you might feel it. Part of that is not being able to see what's coming, though, and it's just psychological."

"Gosh, you're sure smart," said Linda, who wasn't trying to butter him up at all. She just thought he was smart. What he said made a lot of sense to her.

"Haven't you ever ridden one?" he asked. He'd ridden every ride at the carnival already. He'd spent three months allowance doing it, but he didn't care. He was having too much fun calculating things, and comparing them to the physical experience of the ride.

"I'm too chicken," she sighed.

"I could go with you," he said. He instantly wished he hadn't offered. Girls like this didn't ride rides with geeks. He could already feel the rejection.

"Would you?" she asked.

Paul blinked a third time. He gave a tentative smile. "Sure," he said.

It got better, from Paul's point of view. Much better. In fact, it exceeded his expectations, calculated on when he thought he might experience certain stimuli in his life. For instance, he'd calculated that it was highly unlikely that a female would ever press any part of her breast against him, not counting family hugs, until he was half way through his second year of college. His calculations had to do with social integration patterns, and maturity levels, and meeting girls who were geeks like him. There were a number of variables, but even taking them into account only affected his calculation by six months, on either side.

As soon as they were seated in the gondola, though, and the safety bar was lowered, she scooted up next to him, and put her arm through his, pressing her left breast firmly ... and warmly, he noted ... against the lateral head of the triceps brachii muscle of his right arm. He may be forgiven for noticing the failure of his calculations, by virtue of being instantly electrified by her warm breast, and her warm breath, which wafted against the pinna, or ear flap, of his right ear, as she moaned: "I'm so scared!"

Paul stifled the odd impulse to put his arm around her, mostly because that would mean that her soft breast would be removed from his arm. He just said: "It will be OK. I promise."

And it was OK. As they went round and round, and Paul delivered an ongoing explanation of what she was feeling, and why she was feeling it, Linda had fun. She had more fun on the Tilt-a-whirl next, and then the Octopus. And she wasn't the only person having fun. Pretty soon, all Paul could concentrate on was that breast, which she kept pushing against him, and which inertial changes, and centrifugal force tended to make rub, back and forth, against his arm. To his delight, (though it almost made him catatonic initially,) he found that, if he DID put his arm around her, she tended to put BOTH of her arms around him! She also had a way of burying her face in the transition between his shoulder and neck - he couldn't quite remember the muscle names, for some reason - that pushed her breast against the side of his chest. He didn't even try to think of the medical names associated with that.

He just enjoyed it immensely.

By the time she had had enough, she took his hand, and pulled him to the picnic area, where she took him to a table that seemed full of either pregnant women, or women with little babies.

"This is Paul!" she said, to a woman who looked like she might go into labor any second. He couldn't help but look at the bulging abdomen, to see if the uterus, under the tight shirt and skin of that abdomen was moving ... rippling, as it would during a contraction. It wasn't.

"Hi, Paul," came a chorus of female voices.

He looked around. "Is this the Lamaze section, or something?" he asked.

There were chuckles and giggles.

"No, silly," said Linda. "This is my mother, and that's Aunt Prudence, and over there is my sister Mary, and that's Ted, talking to my sister Florence, and this is ..." She faltered, when it came to Jill. Prudence and Mirriam knew her, but the kids didn't.

"Jill," she said, smiling. "I'm just a friend of the family, and this is Christy, my roommate and best friend."

"I'm pleased to meet you all," said Paul, remembering his manners.

"Oooo," said Mary, smiling. "He's polite. I like him already."

"I do too," said Linda, having no idea that, by saying that, she had just made Paul her slave for life. The only way he could keep from sinking down to the grass was by trying to calculate his blood pressure, based on the rush of heat in his face, and the thumping he could feel in his chest. It didn't work, because he didn't have enough information, but he felt better.

"We've been riding rides," said Linda. "I rode the Ferris Wheel!" she said, proudly. She'd never told anybody about her fear of the ride, though, so she didn't get much reaction. "Where's Bobby?"

"I don't know," said Mirriam. "I haven't actually seen him tonight. Why?"

"I just wanted Paul to meet him too," said Linda.

Mirriam looked at Prudence, who raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

"You know," said Paul, staring around him at all the babies he could see. "It's really astonishing how similar all these babies look. They could almost be brothers and sisters."

That got some reaction, at least from Mirriam and Prudence, who were aware of Bobby's carnal prowlings, and the fact that he had impregnated more than just them. Actually, to be honest, Mirriam wasn't sure whether her son, or Ted was responsible for the pain in her back, right now, but this boy's comment caused discomfort.

"All babies look alike," said Linda, not aware she was saving the day. "Come on," she said, pulling at Paul. "Let's go get watermelon!"

"Very observant young man," whispered Prudence, when they were twenty yards away.

"Too observant, if you ask me," sighed Mirriam.

Shortly after that disruption, it was announced that the homemade ice cream was ready. All the women wanted some, but not enough to get up and get it, if they were pregnant, and those holding babies didn't want to disturb them either. Thus it was that Florence and Ted volunteered to go get it for them.

"I'm really surprised I haven't gotten to know you better," said Flo, as they walked. "You're very interesting."

"I'm really surprised I never noticed how much you look like your mother," he said in return.

"Are you flirting with me?" she asked, half kidding.

"You know," he said, sounding amazed. "I might be."

"You can't do that," she scoffed. "You're bedding my mother!"

"Bedding," he repeated. "I haven't heard it called that since I was a little boy."

"Don't change the subject," she said, laughing. "I knew men were basically amoral."

"I'm not amoral," he said, sounding injured. "My morals are just a bit confused, since I moved here."

"You can say that again," said Flo, grinning.

"My morals are just a bit confused, since I ..." he started, and was cut off by her slap on his arm.

"I didn't mean it literally," she laughed.

"Why are you here alone?" he asked, suddenly.

"What do you mean?" she replied.

"You're a beautiful young woman," he said. "You're intelligent, and interesting. Surely you have a boyfriend."

"I don't need a boyfriend," Flo said. She hadn't meant to say it quite like that. She was a little flustered at the compliments he had paid her, though, and it rattled her.

"Don't tell me you're a lesbian," he moaned. "That's just not fair to some poor guy."

"I am NOT a lesbian!" she squealed. "Why would you even THINK that?"

"Well," he said, "for one thing, you said you didn't need a boyfriend. What else was I supposed to think?"

"I cannot believe I'm having this conversation with my mother's lover!" she said, trying to change the subject. Why she didn't need a boyfriend was something she certainly didn't want to talk about ... not to this man ... and not to anybody else, for that matter. If people found out she was getting all her loving from her older brother, it would be a scandal.

"Probably not for much longer," he sighed, thinking about how his lovemaking with Mirriam would probably be severely curtailed.

"I should hope not!" she said, misinterpreting his comment to mean that the conversation would not last much longer.

"I'd gotten the impression that you girls didn't mind our ... relationship," he said.

"We don't," said Flo, stopping. "What are you talking about?"

"You said you were having a conversation with your mother's lover, and I said I probably wasn't going to be her lover much longer," he said. "Wasn't that what we were talking about?"

"No, I thought you meant ..." She stopped. "What do you mean you might not be her lover much longer?

"It's too dangerous, at her age. She doesn't want to get pregnant again. Prudence too," he sighed.

"Well, for pity's sakes," she said. "That's what the pill is for! That's why I'm on the pill!"

Flo's face went white, and she closed her eyes. Why in the world couldn't she control her mouth around this man?

"You don't need a boyfriend ... but you're on the pill," mused Ted. He grinned. "Don't worry. It's none of my business. I'm just happy that some guy out there is making you happy too."

"I'll talk to my mother," she said, trying to change the subject again.

"You'll do no such thing!" he said. "Your mother is a big girl, and she can decide whatever she wants to decide."

"But she's been so happy since she met you," moaned Flo.

"I'm glad to hear that," he said. "Now, if we don't get that ice cream, and get it back to them, she's not going to be all that happy. We can talk later."

"Right!" she said, relieved that the disturbing conversation was to be held in abeyance.

It wasn't the only disturbing thing about the evening for them, though. After they had served everyone else, and were eating their own ice cream, their eyes kept colliding, as they tried looking at each other without being obvious about it.

The night was hot for another couple, who had drifted off into the dark. Tim had picked up Constance in his car, even though it was only seven blocks from her house to the town square. To be honest, he had hoped they'd spend some time in it, which was where they were now.

He'd also hoped she'd end up doing what she was doing. He lay sprawled on the back seat, his legs open, as she knelt in the floorboards, her head bobbing up and down in his lap. He couldn't believe how wonderful it felt. Her mouth was so warm, and her tongue felt so good.

"I'm gonna shoot!" he gasped. He always warned her, and she never reacted, except to drop her mouth on him even harder. He felt the ecstasy of relief, and heard her frenzied gulps as she dealt with his spend. He hadn't had any interest in another girl for months.

She stood up on her knees, wiping her mouth with the back of one hand, and swallowed again.

"I love that," she sighed.

"Ohhhh baby," he sighed back. "I love it too."

"I need you to do something for me," she panted.

"OK," he said, not even thinking about what it might be.

"I don't want to go all the way," she said. "But I'm so horny right now ... I need you to touch me."

Tim's heart leapt in his chest. She'd never let him touch her anywhere but on her breasts. Somehow, his endorphin-soaked brain recognized that wasn't what she was talking about now.

She came up on top of him, her lips seeking his. He didn't even care that his sperm was probably still in her mouth. All he could concentrate on was that one of her hands was working at her belt, and the opening of her shorts. He sent his hand to help, if possible and together they pushed her shorts and panties down.

She couldn't spread her legs, but Tim didn't care. He knew what to do. He'd done this with Mandy Thompson, when they were both only twelve. It had scared them both half to death. They'd been friends ever since, but had never touched each other again, after that.

"Ooooooo" she moaned, as his finger slid through slippery hair, and between even slipperier pussy lips. He hooked the finger. He could just barely get it inside her. This was as far as he'd gotten with Mandy, but he knew he had to rub. He just didn't quite know what to rub ... or how to rub, as it were.

He made a few hurried thrusts with his hand, and was rewarded with delighted moans from the girl he now thought of as his permanently steady girlfriend. She kissed him.

It went on for ten minutes.

"OK," she sighed, finally, pulling at his hand. Had he asked, she'd have told him she was getting sore. Had she known the difference, she'd have also told him she didn't have an orgasm. It felt wonderful, but it didn't quite scratch the itch that was tormenting her.

Ten minutes later, clothing straightened, and normal smiles pasted on their faces, they strolled back into the light, to rejoin the celebration, just in time for ice cream.

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