The Making of a Gigolo (13) - Misty Compton

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Chapter Twelve

"Don't leave," she said softly as he got out of bed.

"If Mamma knew I did this with you she'd have my hide," he said, picking up his shirt.

"We're both adults," she pointed out. It was the first time she'd thought firmly of herself as an adult.

"There are things you don't know about," he said.

"Those other women?" she asked. "The ones you insist aren't your girlfriend?"

That had come to her between two orgasms. She had suddenly understood completely why all those women looked at Bobby like that. If he had done to them what he was doing to her, they couldn't look at him any other way. And, somehow, she knew he had done the same thing with them that he was doing to her. Another orgasm had approached about then, and she'd quit thinking about the other women.

"You figured that out, huh?"

"I don't care about them. I just don't want you to leave."

"I shouldn't have done this with you," he insisted. "The others needed me. It was different."

"How?" she asked quietly. "I needed you too. I admit I didn't know it, but now I do. I still need you. I've never felt like this, Bobby."

His shirt was on now, and he looked silly, standing there. His cock looked about like it had in that picture, not quite soft, but not hard either. It looked shiny. She lifted her head and looked between her legs. Her pussy lips were open, and there was a mess of white all over them and between them.

"You're a star," he said. "You're going places, and I'm never leaving here. You don't need some hayseed boy complicating your life."

"You're anything but a hayseed boy," she said, her voice fully mature. "And anyway, I'm from the hills. We aren't so different."

"You know I'm right," he insisted. "And I shouldn't have cum in you. I know you're not on the pill."

"How would you know that?"

"Come on, Misty, you don't do this very often."

"I've done this, as you put it, exactly twice." She blinked. How did one compare ten minutes of pain and disappointment with what seemed like an entire night of pure bliss? What had just happened had to count for more than just one time.

"When was your last period?" he asked.

"That's none of your business," she said instantly, her natural modesty rebelling against talking about that with a man.

"Of course it's my business!" he said intensely. "What if I got you pregnant? I love all my children."

That's when the rest of it clicked in Misty's mind. All those children, who rushed to him for hugs, or wanted to ride him like a horse, or be read to. All those little boys, with their black hair, and that cute little lock of hair that fell onto their foreheads. With a jolt she realized that Theodore ... Mirriam's son ... had that same appearance. Misty was from the hills. She knew about how some women weren't at all picky about which men they lay with, even if that man was a brother, or cousin or ... son. That part didn't shock her so much. It was obvious there was real and abiding love between the members of the family that lived in this house. Mirriam had even warned her. Now she knew why. His own mother couldn't even resist him. None of those other women had been able to resist him either.

Somehow, that made everything that had just happened seem like fate, almost. The forces of fate had brought her here ... had given her the honor of her first headliner show, and the ecstasy of knowing it had been a complete success. The forces of fate had thrown her against Bobby Dalton too, and that had resulted in another kind or ecstasy that she hadn't even known existed.

She looked up at him.

"I loved what happened."

"Sleep on that," he said. "You might feel differently in the morning." He pulled on his pants. "And please don't tell Mamma what happened."

"Of course not!" she gasped. "That's nobody else's business but ours!"

He moved to the door.

"At least kiss me before you leave," she said, her voice sulky.

"If I kiss you again, I won't want to leave." He grinned.

"Oh horrors!" she gasped, hamming it up.

She felt a surge of strength and rolled off the bed, bouncing to her feet and running to him. She flung her arms around his neck and tried to kiss him. All she got was a whiskery chin, at first. His hands on her waist felt like they belonged there.

"You're very stubborn ... you know that?" he growled.

Then he kissed her good night ... a fairly quick, almost savage pressing of his lips to hers, pushed and twisted her, and slapped her on her right rump. The crack of his hand on her tender flesh was loud in the silence.

"Oww!" she yipped.

"Shhhh!" He grinned, opened the door, and left her standing there, rubbing her butt cheek.

It was the distraction of something wet, running down her inner thigh that made her reach down for the panties he'd thrown on the floor. She pressed them to her sex and hopped back into bed, moving her legs under the covers. She was cold again.

It was also that wet feeling under the panties still pressed to her slit, that got her mind calculating just when her last period had been.

Mirriam was frying potatoes and ham when Misty bounced into the kitchen.

"What a glorious day," she said happily.

"After last night I can see why you feel that way," said Mirriam, smiling.

The first thing Misty thought of was the sex, but then her rational mind told her Mirriam was talking about the concert.

"It was good, wasn't it?" she asked, enjoying the irony of knowing she was fishing for a compliment and complimenting this woman's son about something this woman must never find out about.

"I don't know how your records are selling everywhere else," said Mirriam, waving the spatula at the world in general, "but I know there won't be a single one on a store shelf around these parts by tonight."

"I'm so glad I came here," sighed Misty, her mind bouncing back and forth between thoughts of records flying out of stores, and the heavy feel of a man pressing her onto the bed ... a particular man, anyway.

"I am too," said Mirriam. "I never met anybody famous before. It's nice to know that famous people are just plain folks too."

"You say the nicest things!" said Misty.

A plate of ham and potatoes appeared in front of her, with two eggs, over easy on one side of the plate. She dug into it with gusto.

"Where to next?" asked Mirriam, sitting down with a cup of coffee.

"Well, depending on how the crew is doing, we have another concert in Texas in four days. I need to get in touch with them and see if they've recovered yet. They were awful sick when I left."

"You can use our phone," said Mirriam.

The twins came in as Misty was finishing.

"Jeannie Walters asked me for my autograph last night," announced Matilda. "Can you believe that?"

"Why on Earth would she do that?" asked her mother.

"Because Misty is staying here," laughed Matilda. She looked at Misty. "Do you have any sisters?"

"Nope," said Misty, smiling at the girl's enthusiasm.

"Can we adopt you?" asked Matilda. "All our other sisters have moved out."

Misty laughed. "Sure. I always wanted sisters."

She got up and went to the phone. The only number she knew by heart was her agent's, so she called that. He yelled in her ear about how there had been television cameras at the concert, something she hadn't been aware of, and that she'd been mentioned on regional TV newscasts. The crew and the rest of the people who'd been sick were almost back to normal, and the last of the Texas concerts were back on. He asked her where she'd be flying out of, and said he'd arrange for the tickets, so that all she had to do was show up at the airport.

"When do you want to leave?" he asked. "I don't know when flights leave Wichita. I'll have to find out and call you back."

"I'm thinking about hanging around here for a couple of days," she said into the phone. "This is a nice place."

"Kansas?" He sounded incredulous.

"Yes, Kansas!" she said loudly. "I met some really nice people, and I like them!"

"Okay, okay, you don't have to yell. I'll call you back, okay?"

She gave him Mirriam's number, which was printed on the little white circle in the middle of the dial, and hung up. When she got back to the kitchen, Bobby was eating breakfast.

"Good morning Bobby," she said, sweetly.

Mirriam looked over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing. She'd heard other women greet her son with that tone of voice.

He looked up. Even sitting there eating, those blue eyes of his captivated her.

"Mirriam?" she said, turning her eyes away from Bobby's. "Can I stay here two more days? My agent is finding out about flights, but I don't have to be there for three days. I'd rather stay here than be in some strange hotel with nothing to do for two days. I'd be happy to pay you."

Mirriam snorted. "Of course you're welcome to stay, and you know you don't have to pay anything."

"I still think you should make this into a bed and breakfast," said Misty. "Please let me pay you for the next two days. You've been so wonderful to me, but let me do that ... please?"

"Nonsense," said Mirriam. "That's just silly. I wouldn't know how much to charge you anyway. I won't hear another word about it."

With nothing else to do, Misty finished "I Robot" and then asked for another book to read. She lounged in an easy chair, with her legs over one arm, racing through "The Sackett Brand" by a man named Louis L'Amour, who she had never heard of. Bobby had a whole pile of his books, and she'd already picked out "Hanging Woman Creek" to read next.

Bobby had left, to go do some kind of repairs. The twins were at Renee's, working, and after lunch Mirriam said she was going to go visit Prudence and Florence, one of her daughters. She asked if Misty wanted to come along.

"I'm having fun reading," said Misty, "though I'm supposed to be writing songs. I'm going to work on that, too. I think I'll just stay here, if that's okay."

An hour later Bobby came in.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi yourself," she replied, closing the book. It was exciting, but it didn't hold a candle to what she suddenly wanted to do. "Your mother is off visiting people."

"Ahh," he said, looking uncomfortable somehow.

"We're all alone," she said, coquettishly.

"Ahhh," he said again. "I take it you didn't change your mind."

"You take it correctly," she said, standing up. She flushed pinkly as she said the next thing that was on her mind. "My period should start in three days."

An hour later, Misty Compton knew she was addicted to Bobby Dalton. It was just as good as it had been the night before ... better, really, because she was ready for it this time. She welcomed everything. This time, between the three times he pressed her into the bed, he lay with her, holding her, and they talked.

His passion was astounding. She had never felt like she was taking up a man's complete and total attention before, but being with him was like being on stage, with the spotlight on her, and every person looking only at her. The freedom she felt, doing this thing that she hadn't thought seriously about doing with any other man, brought with it a joy that made her wail out her happiness. He let her, because there was no one to hear her.

And, each time she felt him go still, and heard him grunt, and felt his penis jerk and spurt inside her, she thought about the preciousness of that gift, that so many other women had accepted, even when it had made babies in them. That she was safe from that eventuality was what let her enjoy it most. She got to have what they had had ... got to be the center of this man's attention and the recipient of his passion, and it wasn't dangerous at all.

She loved every second of it.

After an immensely satisfying day, during which she did get a lot of work done on two songs, Misty stayed up with her host family that night. They stayed up late, playing cards. When bedtime finally came, the girls walked her to her room, and it was obvious she couldn't have him again. That ate at her as she lay in bed. She got up to go to the bathroom and stopped at his door on the way back. There was light coming from under it and she felt bold as she opened the door. He was reading, and looked over.

He simply moved over and pulled the covers back to expose himself. He was already erect.

She'd never felt more desirable in her life.

The next day was more of the same. He'd made love to her for hours, but had made her go back to her room when the clock on his nightstand read three in the morning. The girls had to come get her up for breakfast. Bobby was already gone, again working as a handyman.

She went back to bed, burrowing under the covers for a long nap, and then got up to read some more and then work on her music. Lunch interrupted that, but she went back to it afterward. Then the phone rang, and Mirriam came to tell her a man was asking for her. It was her agent. The plane would leave at eleven in the morning, the next day. Someone would pick her up at the airport in Texas.

She was reading the final paragraph of the second book when Bobby came in and she heard him talking to Mirriam. She looked at her watch. It was almost five. She had one more night in this comfortable, relaxing place, and then it would be back to the grindstone. Bobby stuck his head into the room.

"Want to go collect eggs with me?"

She put the book down, and stood up. Why couldn't she live on the frontier, with some man like Bobby? That would be the good life.

Collecting eggs was interesting, but mostly because she was with Bobby to do it.

"Want to fool around?" he asked, grinning.

"Yes," she said, pouting, "but your mother is home."

"The house isn't the only place to fool around," he said.

She let him lead her to the big barn, which smelled of hay and dust. His kisses inflamed her and she had another entirely new experience as he bent her over a hay bale, pulled her jeans down and entered her from behind. A month ago she would have screamed at any man who suggested she behave in such an animalistic way. Now she pulled her bra up herself, when his hands slid under her shirt, so he could cup and squeeze her breasts while he filled her from behind.

This was fun of a completely different kind. There was only one orgasm, coaxed from her by his fingers, as he reached around her. The rest of the time was just Bobby loving her. It really was animalistic. The male took the female, who accepted his advances. It was naughty, and it felt good, and she loved the fact that the male had chosen her. She pushed her bare bottom against him to receive his seed. What washed away all the animalistic feeling was when he spent another ten minutes kissing her after their clothing was straightened back up. He didn't just take her and leave. He wanted her even after nature had taken its course.

That night ... her last night, as she thought of it ... they watched TV. The twins went to bed early, because they had to be at Renee's early in the morning. Bobby sat with Theodore sleeping on his lap, until Mirriam finally stood and picked him up to put him to bed.

"You two go ahead," said Bobby, picking up a book. "I'm going to read for a while."

Misty lay waiting. She knew he'd come. He had to come. It was her last night. It was the last night she'd get to experience the ecstasy he had shown her existed.

He didn't disappoint her.

"You have to be quiet tonight," he whispered as he came into her room.

"I promise," she said, throwing the covers off to expose her naked body to him.

He taught her how to ride a man ... how to sit up straight, to achieve maximum penetration, and how to lean forward to rub her clitty against his pubic bone. Her vocalizations, during four orgasms that way were restrained to a high pitched "Nnnnnnnnnnnnn" with her hand clamped over her mouth as her hips pitched rapidly to and fro and the waves of luscious feeling flooded her body.

Then he got on top of her and recreated that first night, with his knees up tight, and her butt off the bed as he made rabbit-like furiously rapid thrusts into her. He picked her up again, to let her sit in the saddle he'd created as he spurted in her. The only difference was that this time she didn't hang limply in his arms while he filled her pussy with his thick spunk.

This time, she held her body up, her hands on his shoulders, looking into his eyes as she accepted his gift.

Bobby took her to the airport, of course. For the first time, they rode in his car. Misty wanted to stop along the way, for one last tryst, but Bobby kept driving.

"I'll miss you," he said, his eyes straight ahead.

"I'll miss you too."

They drove on in silence for a while.

"It seems so completely different than when I met you," she said. "I feel so completely different."

"You're the same person you always were."

"Not hardly!" she laughed.

"Yes you are," he insisted. "You're Misty Compton, singer extraordinaire, loved by millions."

"Not millions," she said. "Am I loved by you?"

He looked over at her. "You have your life, and I have mine."

"That doesn't stop me from loving what happened between us," she said softly. "It doesn't stop me from loving you for giving me something very special."

"If I love you it will hurt," he said softly.

"You don't love any of the others?"

"Yes!" he said hotly. "I do love them. I love them all! That's the problem."

"I see," she said. In this case, she thought she really did understand. She knew what it felt like to love someone - what she was feeling for Bobby had to be love ... some kind of love - and know that there was some obstacle that prevented that love from maturing and welding them together. She wasn't ready to settle down. She was on the road all the time. And while Bobby made her feel like no other man ever had, she couldn't see herself out on the prairie with him, like in the book. She had places to go, and things to do. He had his life, and it wasn't one that would go well out on the road, or waiting at home in Nashville.

A feeling of melancholy swept through her. She turned around on her knees and reached into the back of the car, opening her guitar case. The lined paper she always carried was there, and the pencil.

By the time they pulled up to the terminal, she'd roughed out two new songs. The lyrics were only half there, but that would come. She looked over the music, picking it out on the imaginary guitar in her head. It was good. She could hear it already. Even though the words weren't quite there yet, she felt the emotion as she sang them.

She realized they were sitting still, in the middle of what seemed like frantic activity after the calm of the farm.

"You want me to walk you in?" he asked.

That would just drag out the pain. And there was other music, dancing in her head. She needed to get that down on paper before she lost it.

"No. I'm fine."

"I'm glad we met. I'm sorry I was such a jerk."

The music fluttered to the floorboards as she almost leapt across the seat to kiss him one last time, pressing him against his door. She pulled back, licking her lips.

"You can be a jerk to me any time you want," she said. "Especially if you ever come to Nashville."

Then she picked up her precious music, stuffed it back in the guitar case, and picked up her suitcase in the other hand.

"See you later," she said, looking directly at him.

"I hope so."

Then she was walking away, weighed down, not by the items in her hands, but with the knowledge she was leaving something very special. She didn't hear him drive away ... but she also didn't look back.

That night, as Bobby lay in bed, thinking about Misty Compton, Matilda and Betty came into his room.

"Now that she's gone, do you have some time for us?" asked Betty. She wasn't pouting.

"Sorry," he said. "I was just busy."

"We know how busy you were," said Matilda. She did sound like she was pouting. "We're not deaf."

Bobby grinned. "It's not appropriate for a sister to be jealous of her brother."

She dropped her robe, to expose stiff nippled breasts to him. "Are you kidding? My big brother did it with Misty Compton!

"It's not appropriate for a brother to neglect his sisters ... even for Misty Compton," said Betty, also getting naked.

They stayed all night. Each insisted on getting to feel the heavy weight of his hot spunk spurting into her womb.

A week later Mirriam dropped an envelope on the table in front of Bobby when he sat down for supper. It had been opened.

"This came today," she said, without further explanation.

Bobby looked at the return address: "Sunrise Records" with Nashville TN under that. Inside was a check for two hundred and fourteen dollars and sixty-eight cents. The payee line had "Dalton Bed and Breakfast" on it. There was a letter with the check, typewritten, that expressed Sunrise Record's appreciation for hosting Misty Compton during her stay in Hutchinson, Kansas. Written in flowing script at the bottom was, "My manager even figured out the tax! Thanks so much. I can't wait to come back." It was signed "Misty."

"Can you believe the gall of that woman?" asked Mirriam.

"She's just trying to say thank you," said Bobby, grinning.

"She's as stubborn as Bev!" snorted Bev's mother.

"She is most definitely stubborn," Bobby agreed.

"I see you two were getting along much better, there at the last."

"Don't pry, Mamma. It's not polite."

"I'm not prying! I just worry about you, that's all."

He laughed. "I think you're more worried about Misty than me." He stood up. "The girls are eating at Renee's tonight, aren't they? I'm not all that hungry." He advanced on his mother.

"I just cooked all that food for you!" she yelped, backing up.

"It will be there when we're done," he said. "We'd better hurry. Theodore will wake up from his nap soon."

"You're incorrigible!" she accused.

She kept complaining until the prick she loved so much slid into her wet and willing pussy. Then she was too busy making love to complain.

As they lay there afterwards, her head on his shoulder and her arm lying limply across his chest, Mirriam looked up into her son's face.

"You made love to her ... didn't you."

He kissed her nose.

"Don't pry, Mamma," he said.

"I could tell, you know," she said. "She had the look. I could tell with most of the others too. There's something about how they look at you."

"Like you're looking at me now?" he asked.

"I hope not," she said, pinching the skin on his flat stomach. "I love you so much."

"She's fine," said Bobby. "She went back off to Nashville to be famous, and I'm staying here."

"I couldn't stand it if you left," said his mother. "It would be so lonely."

"You have Ted, don't you?"

"Not really," she said. "Flo doesn't mind, and Ted is Ted ... but it's not right."

"Then I'll just have to stick around a little longer and take care of you," he said.

He showed her what he meant by taking her through two more orgasms, and leaving the bed a mess between her legs.

Life settled down a bit in the Dalton household, after the excitement of Misty's having been there. The twins were glad to have their man back, and, over the next couple of weeks, made up for lost time. Bobby thought they were on the pill the whole time, and happily sprayed them full of semen. The girls, having each had two periods, since beginning to make love with Bobby, felt invulnerable, and didn't worry about all that dangerous sperm.

They weren't invulnerable.

They should have worried.

But that is for another time. This tale has grown long, even though it only covered a month of Bobby's life. The ramifications of that single month will have to spill over into the next story, because there must be an ending somewhere. So I'll close this chapter of Bobby's life, and move on to the next. I hope to see you there.

The End

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