The Making of a Gigolo (14) - Erica Bradford

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26

Chapter Twenty-one

Christy lay cradled in Will's right arm, with her head on his shoulder. Both had almost recovered their breath, but were still breathing more rapidly than normal.

"Wow," sighed Will.

She kissed his shoulder. "Thank you."

"No, thank you!" His voice carried the fervent honesty of his disagreement.

"Will?"

"Hmmm?"

"I don't want you to think I always hop in bed with a guy I've only known for a short time."

Since she had done that with him, it was pretty hard to look at it in any other way, but he tried.

"So why did you ... with me?"

"It's complicated," she said.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said. Then, since that seemed awfully assertive, he added "Am I?"

"I hope not," she said softly.

He felt the kind of relief you feel when you dove too deep in the pool and aren't sure you'll make it back to the surface, and then get that first lungful of fresh air when you do.

"Okay ... good."

"Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"Not when the person you're looking at looks like me," he said, honestly.

"There is much more to a person than just what they look like."

"I know."

"You taught me that," she said.

"I did?"

"The first time I saw you at the school, I felt sorry for you. And then I heard you talking to Jake and you just sounded so normal. Both of you did. You were just two guys talking about something. If I wasn't looking at you I couldn't tell either of you was disabled. That's what made me realize that you were just a normal guy, in a messed up body."

"Most people don't think that," he said.

"That's because they don't take the time to get to know a person like you. You remember how you said the kids started talking to you?"

"Yeah."

"Kids are generally good judges of character. After I left, I thought about that too. And I thought about how brave you are."

"I'm not brave," he snorted. "You should have seen me in physical therapy. I cried like a baby."

"You did it," she pointed out. "Even if you cried."

"I guess so," he said.

"And then you let me take you out. I knew you had to be terrified, but I was fascinated with you. I wanted to find out what was inside ... get past the body."

"You're the one who's brave," he said. "Most women would be scared to death to be around somebody like me."

"I wasn't brave at all," she said. "I could leave any time. I could take you back home and never have to see you again."

"I guess that's true," he said.

"Anyway, I expected you to be mad ... mad at the Army ... mad at the world ... even mad at me. But you weren't. Fate handed you a horrible blow, but you tried to bounce back. You were thankful for the things you had instead of being mad about the things you'd lost. I like that."

His hand stroked her naked shoulder and back.

"And then, you were willing to be vulnerable and let me take your picture. You showed me part of you that I know you don't want to show anyone ... and let me photograph it. I knew then that you had a lot of very special qualities. And on top of that you were willing to try working in the darkroom, doing something completely new. I was just so impressed with you."

"Wow," he said again.

"It was then that I knew it would be possible for me to fall in love with you. I'm not saying I am in love with you ... not yet ... but I sure do like what I see." She brought her hand up to her eyes and covered them. "I'm sorry. That was thoughtless."

"I knew what you meant," he said. "How could I possibly be upset with you after what you just said?"

"But I couldn't let myself fall in love with you ... until I knew one more thing about you."

"What?"

"I'm a woman. I didn't want to fall in love with a man I couldn't be a woman with."

"That's what this was all about?" he sounded incensed. "You just wanted to take me for a test drive?" He sighed, theatrically. "I feel so used!"

"I knew I was falling for you fast," she said, completely unrepentant. "I had to know."

"Did I pass?" he asked.

"Oh, you passed," she sighed.

"Wow," was his only response.

Bobby had wanted Erica to make the decisions and she had done so, for the most part. That the latest decision she had made was completely unexpected had to be dealt with.

Bobby knew that she had no idea what she was asking for. He was pretty sure this was still a very bad idea. She was in the throes of passion and probably wasn't thinking straight. At the same time, he knew her well enough to know that if he rejected her now, she would hate him, even after she thought about it. She thought she wanted this. He knew he did too, but his satisfaction would have to be delayed. It was important that she didn't regret this.

Passion is an interesting response to stimuli. It clouds the judgment. Even Bobby Dalton's judgment.

He started by leaning down to do what he knew would give her an orgasm. He sucked in her right nipple.

Her hands came to his head and pushed.

"Nooooo, not that, Bobby! Fuck me!"

He bit the nipple, clamping down hard and moving his teeth from side to side. The response was as expected and, while she was on the upside of the orgasm, he moved his hips forward.

She was so short that he couldn't keep her nipple in his mouth, though he held onto it as long as possible, knowing that she loved to have them pulled and stretched. He had to release it, lest he do real damage and, as it snapped from between his teeth, his pubic bone met hers with a thump.

She was tight. He expected that. Her pussy pulsed and rippled around his shaft. He expected that too. But she didn't squeal, scream or in any way express that she was unhappy at being stretched for the first time. He did not expect that.

Erica would be unhappy in the future, but not for the reasons Bobby was afraid of. Her unhappiness would center on the fact that she would be unable to remember, in enough detail to satisfy her, what losing her virginity was like.

The orgasms Bobby gave her were so violent that she had unconsciously developed a mechanism to deal with them. It was while he was sucking her clit that she envisioned herself on a big wooden roller coaster that she had ridden one time, which had both scared her to death and excited her more than anything else she'd done to that point in her life. Bobby's roller coaster went up much faster than a real one. And the swoop as it rocketed down lasted longer too. Then, as she leveled out, he started taking her up again.

When he sucked her nipple and pulled it with his teeth, she had already been close to the top. Seeing his penis poised there, where she suddenly desperately wanted it, had her right at the top of the arc of the tracks. Then he bit her nipple and she cried out - both because she was already on that long downward rush and because she was afraid she'd miss what she'd demanded he do.

But this coaster ride was different, because when she hit bottom, she splashed into a warm sea of mist that was somehow emanating from her groin. It had no color or odor, but it enveloped her and seemed to touch every bit of her all at once, both inside and out. The mist seemed to be shrinking, until it felt like his chest on her breasts and his breath on her neck, and something rubbing and moving inside her pussy. It all felt like his kisses, everywhere at once.

Her eyes opened and she lifted her head. Her breasts were in the way, crushed together by his chest on them. He seemed to understand what she wanted and his chest rose until her breasts parted. There, through the valley between the breasts she no longer hated, she watched as the thick column of his penis slid out of her body, and then went right back in. She felt the thump of his lower body in the bones of her pelvic girdle and he ground against her.

When he had sucked the place he was grinding against, the roller coaster shot up like a rocket taking off. But this ... this was a slow ride. She was going up. She knew that. But she had time to look around and enjoy being able to see things she couldn't see from any place else.

She remembered the feel of that penis in her mouth and concentrated on feeling it with another part of her body. It was delicious. Nothing else on earth felt like that. When he moved it in her, she wanted to coo and wiggle, like she had when her mother had rubbed her sore shoulders one time. When he ground against her, the car she was riding in jerked forward. She could see the top. She was almost there.

"Oh yes," she sighed, leaning forward in her mind. She reached for the safety bar that she knew she'd have to hold onto, or be thrown from the car.

And then she was there and the car started down. It gathered speed, still going down, and she could tell that it would go down for a long, long time. She dragged in breath and let it all out in a long primeval scream, as suddenly she was moving so fast that she couldn't see anything anymore.

Bobby wasn't at all sure things were going well. She had raised up to see the proof that he had done as she demanded and then lay back. She writhed silently, her eyes taking on a glassy look, but she made no noise ... no comment. He stroked her several times, and she lay limp. He tried grinding, and her lips stretched to show her teeth, but she made no noise to indicate whether she was feeling pain or pleasure.

She got more tense and her hands went to his shoulders and gripped with surprising strength as she leaned up off the pillow. His first clue that she was actually having an orgasm was when her pussy squeezed hard as he slid out. He had to push harder to force his way back in. Now she felt like a virgin!

Then she screamed and her head flopped back onto the pillow, while her legs slapped over his, pummeling the back of his thighs.

He sighed and grinned. This was more like it

He was close, but he didn't want to finish. He wanted her to have at least one more orgasm. He remembered how he'd been able to pick Misty up and lean back, resting on his knees, while her weight drove her down on his prick. Erica was even smaller, so he did the same thing, pulling her loose body up until he was sitting on his calves and her big soft breasts were crushed to his chest.

She opened her eyes, surprised, and he kissed her.

After the disorientation of going from horizontal to vertical, Erica tried to cope with the fact that she was sitting up, almost as if she were in a soft warm chair, but her legs were straight out in front of her. She bent her knees and her heels hit the bottom of Bobby's feet. She sighed as that let her full weight down on the thing that was filling her. His kiss was so soft and tender that she felt hot all over.

His hands went to her bottom and he pulled and lifted, just a little, making her move on his penis. That felt wonderful and she started moving her hips to do the same thing.

Sitting like this, with his manhood deep inside her, moving only a little, was a completely different kind of feeling for Erica. The tip of his penis seemed to hit something deep inside her, as if it was pushing a button. That button caused a heat that seemed to climb, just a degree or two at a time, each time it was pushed. Soon she felt like she had somehow swallowed a pot of oil that was getting hotter and hotter inside her, where that wonderful hard thing was prodding her. His kisses seemed to add heat that sank from her lips to the nipples that were pressed hard against his chest and then further downward, to make the heavy oil her womb seemed to be floating in hotter still.

Her vaginal muscles spasmed and it felt like bubbles were bathing the inside of her body. She realized that she was going to have another orgasm ... one that would not be at all like her last one. She could tell that already, though she had no idea what to expect.

Then it changed from a feeling of bubbling to a feeling that her womb was the oil, getting hotter and expanding. The level of the oil was already even with the rim of the pot that was her body. She pulled her lips from his and dragged in as much air as she could. His blue eyes were staring into hers. Her hips gave a convulsive jerk and the tip of his prick seemed to pry something apart inside her. It was through that breach, where the tip of his penis was, that the hot oil inside her began to seep out. It didn't happen in a rush. It was more like the liquid heat that had filled her womb began to flow outward, like lava from a volcano.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhh," she sighed. This was beautiful. Her former orgasms has been violent, almost scary, but this could last forever and she wouldn't mind at all.

"You need to get your feet under you," he said, panting.

"No," she said. Her voice was hoarse, dry. She didn't want to move. Her body was melting. She closed her eyes and thought of the Wicked Witch of the West, in her favorite movie, melting into a puddle. That was what was happening to her, except it was fantastic.

"I'm about to make a baby in you, Erica!" came his voice, urgent now. "Get your feet under you so you can stand up and pull off of me."

Her mind imagined her body melting away to leave only a little baby behind. It was bizarre and her eyes popped open. She leaned to her left and dragged her right foot out and around, until she could lean the other way onto her right knee.

"Hurry!" he gasped.

As she pulled her left foot around and back, the way she leaned made the tip of his penis push into that inner split again and she realized she could keep this orgasm going if she just wiggled back and forth. She closed her eyes and rocked from side to side, from one knee to the other.

"Erica!"

She wished he'd stop talking. He was distracting her. She kissed him to shut him up and closed her eyes to go back to feeling the upwelling of her center.

His kiss was what distracted her next. His lips almost bruised hers as his head twisted this way and that. His arms were crushing her to him, pulling her against his chest. She felt his hands move up her back to her shoulders and he pulled hard. The tip of his penis pried at her insides again and she felt heat flow into her. Her own hot oil was there, still overflowing the crucible that was the center of all her attention, as this heat surged in to join with her liquid. In her mind's eye it swirled and mixed, making an alloy of molten metals in her womb. She felt another rush of warmth and something broke into her conscious mind and screamed that the male was fertilizing her.

She was almost jerked from the lingering ecstasy of her orgasm and her eyes snapped open. She pushed at his chest, feeling the hard muscle under his skin, and broke the kiss to heave and pant. His eyes had gone dark again. She felt a shiver race through her body. He was the male ... the alpha male ... the supremely dominant male she had always feared. The penis inside her leapt and spurted again and again. Now her feet tried to come in to play. His hands on the backs of her shoulders held her firmly impaled on the spurting thing inside her. The tip, where all that heat spurted from, dug between those inner lips again and her womb sang.

She felt his penis jump once more and, because she was helpless anyway, she closed her eyes. It was easier to go back to rocking back and forth, because that felt so wonderful. She realized her orgasm had only slowed, not ended. It was hard to move with his hands pulling so hard at her, so she used the muscles she had so recently discovered to squeeze and play with the thing stuffing her.

He actually growled in her ear and she shivered again. She had always heard her feminist sisters say that all men wanted was to take and dominate and use a woman. If this was what it was like to be taken ... to be dominated ... to be used by a man ... then her sisters were insane, because they all said to fight against male domination at all costs. What woman in her right mind, she wondered, would resist this?

She could tell when her mind began to clear. She rose from that sea of hot oil slowly. He had frozen, crushing her to his chest, but she felt his muscles begin to loosen, almost fiber by fiber, until he was no longer pulling her down and she began to lean away from him. His hands slid from her shoulders to her back and his arms strengthened again, to make a backrest for her. She relaxed too and leaned back. His eyes cleared and he was Bobby again, instead of the bull who had taken her.

Her whole outlook had changed radically, but she was still the same woman who had entered this house as a virgin. Except now she understood. Her whole life had changed. She could never go without this ... not after finding out what it was like. With something like fear, she realized she needed ... a man.

"Bastard," she said, her voice low.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I tried to warn you, but you wouldn't listen."

She realized he was apologizing for taking her ... for breeding her ... for not giving her the chance to avoid the consequences of him ejaculating inside her. She would think about that, but something else was taking top priority in her mind.

"I didn't mean that," she said. "I meant the whole thing."

"You asked me to!" he said. "You told me to!"

"And you did," she said, slumping and letting him hold her so she wouldn't backward. "And now, for the first time, I understand the real danger of men."

His eyes looked crestfallen. "I told you it was a bad idea too," he said, in his own defense.

"You're not hard anymore," she said, squeezing with her vaginal muscles.

"No," he said.

"Bastard," she sighed.

If Erica thought they were done, she was disabused of that erroneous notion quickly, once Bobby found out why she had called him a bastard. Once he learned she had loved it all, but was disgruntled about having to admit that she'd have to have a man in her life from now on, he set about fighting for males everywhere to convince her that needing a man wasn't all bad.

It was two hours before they slept.

When Will woke, it was with the slowly building need to get to a toilet. He'd learned to act on that more quickly than most men, because getting to a toilet was a lot more time consuming for Will than it was for most men.

He felt a momentary stab of shock as he realized he was in a strange bed and that the warm body pressed to him, and the arm draped over his chest, wasn't the one he'd gotten used to waking up with. That shock passed quickly, though. She had convinced him she wanted him here.

His right arm was trapped under her. He didn't want to waken her, if it was possible. He brought the stump of his left wrist up and pushed her hand over to his right shoulder, then tried to wiggle the trapped arm out from under her.

Her eyes opened.

"I need to go to the bathroom," he said, feeling foolish.

She levered herself up and he was able to pull his right arm out. He sat up and twisted. He looked at the chair, but the need was strong now, so he just lurched up and hopped across the room to the door that led to her personal bathroom. He sat, did what needed to be done, then realized he'd have to hop back. It was awkward, in an almost painful way, until he realized she hadn't gotten up and tried to help him. She'd just let him do what he needed to do. That gave him the courage to hop back to the chair, at least, where he stood on his right leg, naked, and looked at the woman in the bed who had thrown the covers off, showing him her naked body instead of hiding it.

"Come back to bed," she said.

"It's morning," he said, somewhat uselessly. She obviously knew that. Light was coming through the windows.

"I don't have anywhere to go," she said. "I don't have to pick up Jillian until ten."

He was staring at her and he felt like that was impolite for some strange reason. His eyes wandered to the framed photographs above her bed and he saw Bobby Dalton, standing in an open window of a farm house ... naked.

He looked back at her to see her looking where he'd been looking. Her head swiveled back toward him and her eyes locked with his.

"Come back to bed," she said again. "Now that we know this will work between us, there are things you need to know about me."

Erica woke from a dream about a purple rabbit with cat's ears, for some reason, that had been having a conversation with a badger about how to grow and harvest asparagus. It was one of those completely insane dreams that mean nothing at all and make you wonder what in the world was going on.

She opened her eyes and saw flesh, then felt it under her cheek and arm, which was draped over Bobby Dalton. His measured breathing told her he was still asleep.

The events of last night burst into her mind. They seemed just as bizarre as the purple rabbit dream, except she knew it had been no dream. She took stock of her body, which felt completely normal. She felt relaxed, just like it was a normal Sunday, when she could lie there and sleep in or just think.

Her mind tried to grapple with what had happened. She knew she should be sorry it had happened. She should be trying to build outrage about how she had been seduced ... tricked ... manipulated. But the fact was that she had loved it and she knew that. That bothered her more than losing her virginity, which she had been "saving" for some reason she could never quite put into words. She hadn't been saving it for a man ... at least not a man she had dreamed of or hoped to meet some day or anything like that.

Yes, she had loved it and she knew that she was going to want to feel that way again. She felt the urge to get back on the roller coaster right now in fact. And that was what bothered her. For the first time since she had sworn she would never depend on any man, she knew she would now have to depend on one a lot.

She started thinking about the men she knew ... the ones who weren't married. There were three or four at school, but she dismissed them almost immediately. She didn't know it, but her sorting mechanism had burst into maturity while Bobby was teaching her one of the reasons men had something important to offer a woman. She didn't know many men outside of school, other than some of the parents. It took an extra deep breath from the man she was naked with to bring her attention back to him. Of course Bobby could do that for her. That was obvious. She wondered why she hadn't thought of him first instead of last. With a quivery feeling in the pit of her stomach, she knew it was because if Bobby crooked his finger at her, she'd go running to him like a mindless bimbo. That really bothered her.

Her mind drifted back to the feelings that had washed over her last night. It had been different than what she felt with Will. Everything she did with Will was an offering of herself to him, out of love. She was aware that she got something physical out of it too, but that was so different than what Bobby had given her last night that it almost seemed like a completely different kind of activity.

Her mind stalled. What Bobby had given her. She tried to think about it as dispassionately as she could. What exactly had happened last night? She'd already dismissed the notion that she'd been seduced. She couldn't lie to herself about that. She'd been a willing participant, even though she hadn't sought anything in the beginning. She remembered her own words clearly: "Fuck me, Bobby." She marveled that she'd said that, but as clear as the words themselves were, she also remembered clearly that she had wanted him to do that as much as she had wanted almost anything in her life. She had needed something from him on a visceral level.

He had given it to her. There was no doubt about that. She likened it to asking for a sip of water, and finding yourself afloat in a whole swimming pool of it. Never before had she felt like she was at the center of the universe and all the attention of the stars and planets was squarely on her. The orgasms themselves were a misty memory now, hard to make clear in her mind. It was as if a whole symphony had been composed and played, just for her, but all she could remember was a rough idea of how the melody went.

Bobby had been the composer. He had supplied the instruments, and he had played them all. She remembered doing nothing except lying there and loving it. With almost startling clarity, she realized that Bobby hadn't done anything to her ... he had given her something.

Even his moans and groans of satisfaction had been a gift, rather than evidence that he was profiting from the situation. He had made it clear that he was as consumed by her as she was by him. She had been the center of his universe last night.

He took another deep breath and started breathing more quickly. He was waking up. She felt a stab of something like worry. What would he think of her now? Would he get up and say something crass? She could imagine him standing there, leering at her naked body. "You were a great fuck, baby. We'll have to do it again sometime." Then he'd go off, leaving her alone, and look for some other woman to heave and pant over.

His arm moved. She hadn't even realized she was lying on it. She suddenly felt his hand on her hip, sliding, caressing as it came up her side as far as it could go and then back down to just rest on her hip. She couldn't believe how good his hand felt, just touching her.

"Morning," he said softly. "You okay?"

She didn't know what to say, or do.

His body heaved and suddenly he was facing her. His arm went around her and she was lying in his embrace, her face in his chest. He kissed her hair.

"Tell me how you feel," he said softly. "It doesn't matter if it's positive or negative, but don't keep it inside."

"Afraid," her mouth said. She hadn't meant to say it out loud.

"What are you afraid of?" he asked.

He hadn't gotten up and crowed and postured. He hadn't laughed at her and said she was like any other woman. He hadn't said something crass or thoughtless. She felt a shiver as she realized he cared about her. Was that even worse? If he cared about her, wasn't she required to care back? She already cared too much about this man.

"Tell me," he urged.

"I'm afraid you'll go," she said. She followed that immediately with "I'm afraid you'll stay."

"How about if I stay for a little while and then go?" he asked. There was no joking in his voice. She had presented him with a scenario in which he couldn't win ... in which she couldn't win ... and he had tried to find a way for them both to win.

"So much has changed," she sighed. "I'm confused."

"Then I'd say you're normal," he said. "I'm confused too."

"What are you confused about?" she asked.

"I didn't plan on any of that happening last night," he said. "I didn't expect it."

Her mind reflected on that. He hadn't intended to seduce her. That made her feel much better. It validated some of her own thoughts. He had been so attentive to her recently. A part of her had still worried that he was merely stalking his prey. And it matched her own feelings. She hadn't planned on it either.

"Why did you do it then?" she asked. Some part of her unruly brain still wanted to make it all his responsibility.

"I think you needed something and I was able to help with that," he said. "I hope so, anyway," he added.

She asked the question that was primary in her mind.

"What do we do now?"

His hand stroked her hair and slid down her back.

"We live life," he said. "You have things to do and so do I, and we go about doing them."

"That's it?" she asked, tensing. "Last night was just a one night stand?"

"I certainly hope not," he said.

She was almost astonished at the burst of warmth in her belly as she realized he wanted her again. She could feel that warmth turn into something she knew meant she was getting damp. Her nipples, pressed against his chest, seemed to hum softly.

"I've never felt like this before," she moaned.

"I think that's pretty normal too," he said, hugging her. "After all, you've never done anything like that before. It can't help but change things. That's one of the reasons I wasn't sure you were ready for that."

Suddenly, like some door had been opened in her memory, she remembered his warnings:

"Erica, honey, this is a big step. Why don't we wait a while and see how you feel then?"

"Well then, I shouldn't do it!" he had moaned, when she insisted.

"You don't know what you want," he had said harshly.

Not only had he not seduced her, he had tried to slow things down. She relaxed in his arms and felt a kind of peace settle over her. The memory of him trying his best to be responsible took all her fears and concerns away. What had happened had been on her terms. She was sure she'd think about that some more, but for now she could relax in the arms of a man who really cared about her.

"Don't go," she murmured into his chest.

He sighed. "I can stay for a while. When is Will coming home? I don't think you want him to find us like this."

She frowned. Will had stayed out all night. Had he done the same thing with Christy? She couldn't imagine it. All she knew about making love was what Bobby had done and Will couldn't do those things.

"If we get up, it will all be over," she moaned.

"Are you saying you'll never let me in your bed again?" he asked.

She pushed away from him. How could he make her feel so fabulous at one point in time and be so annoying at another? She looked at his face and then wished she hadn't. His eyes were devastating, somehow.

"I didn't say that," she said.

"Well then," he said smoothly. "If we get up, all that means is that we get to plan for and anticipate next time."

She knew, at that second, as her body reacted to his obvious desire to be with her again, that she'd let him ... no ... ask him ... for more. It wasn't over. It was just suspended. That scared her a little, because she already wanted him again.

"But you need to think about things for a while before we make plans," he said, destroying her rosy mood.

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