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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-three
Bobby's hand rested on Misty's stomach as they lay side by side,
catching their breath.
"Now that's more like it," panted Misty.
"You think we're done?" Bobby chuckled.
Her eyes got serious.
"The next three days may have to last me for the next five years,
Bobby." There were suddenly tears in her eyes.
"Maybe longer."
Bobby didn't want her to get maudlin.
"Why? Don't tell me you're giving up men altogether."
She pushed at him, but smiled.
"I should!" she said. "Look what the last one did to
me!" Her hand went to lay on top of his.
Now it was Bobby who got serious.
"There is always a second love," he said. "If you want there
to be."
She just stared into his eyes for a while.
"I know," she said. "I can't imagine it ... but then I
couldn't imagine you either." She let him kiss her gently,
but pushed him back. "Can you be happy if some other man
raises our child?"
"If you're happy, that's what will make me happy," he said.
His face was calm, but inside was a different matter. Bobby
had contact with all his children, some more and some less.
He was completely comfortable with Jake being called Daddy by two of
those children. He had already heard Steven call Sal "Papa
Sal," and that hadn't hurt at all. There were others, many
others, who called another man all the names that would bond them to a
man other than their biological father, and he could live with that,
because he got to see them and talk to them and know they were happy
children.
But this was different, somehow. To know he had a child that
he'd probably never see, and never hold or play with. He'd
not get the chance to read the child under his hand any stories, or
play horsy, or babysit. It made his stomach hurt.
An outsider might have thought that Bobby Dalton cast his seed wherever
it might happen to fall and that he cared not for the results, but that
was not true. He may have looked at it differently than many
men would ... most, if the truth be flatly stated ... but he still
cared.
He couldn't let her know how it hurt him inside, though. He
knew this had been a difficult decision for her too. He knew
that, somewhere inside her, there was the wish that this hadn't
happened ... that she hadn't run into Bobby Dalton ... and that he
hadn't complicated her career. He didn't want to fan that
hopefully small coal of resentment and chance it setting something
aflame that would remove forever the possibility that he would see
Misty ... and their child again.
"Thank you," she said, leaning into him. "I'm ready to go
again." Her eyes were serious again. "We only have
three days."
Suddenly, the next three days took on greater importance to Bobby too.
Misty didn't know about the twins, who seemed to ignore their own
pregnant condition completely when they came in and squealed over the
arrival of their adopted sister. They wanted to show her the
room they had prepared for her, oblivious of the fact that she had
probably already seen it. Bobby wouldn't find out until much
later, but the twins were neither ignoring their own condition, nor
what they had recognized instantly as Misty's. They spent
over an hour in the first official bedroom of the Dalton Bed and
Breakfast with the first official customer.
They acted like nothing had changed, when they finally came
out. Nothing was said to Bobby by any of the three.
But the twins always seemed to have something important to do for the
next three days, other than spend time with Misty. The
exception was in the evenings. Each night, after supper,
Misty performed two or three of the songs that would be on her new
album and the twins sat with stars in their eyes as they were treated
to a sneak preview. Mirriam was more sedate in her
praise. Bobby said nothing.
Mirriam did a lot of chores that kept her away from the house during
that time too. Misty was insatiable and made no attempt of
any kind to hide the fact that Bobby slept with her every
night. On the last night, after she sang the last song and
put her guitar back in its case, she stood up and took Bobby's hand, to
pull him toward her room.
"Misty?" It was Mirriam's voice that broke the silence.
Misty turned to look at her, still holding Bobby's hand.
"You never told us what the name of your album will be."
Misty smiled. "That last song was the title song."
"First Love," sighed Matilda. "It was so sad."
"Maybe there will be a second love someday," said Misty.
Then she took Bobby to bed for the last time.
It was only after Misty left that Mirriam spoke to Bobby.
"I knew I should have pried," she said the next morning at
breakfast. Only she and Bobby were there. The twins
were already gone to work at Renee's.
"Would it have done any good?" he asked carefully.
"I don't understand that woman," she said. "I would have
married Joe in a minute. I even asked him to marry me three
or four times."
"I didn't know that," said Bobby.
"He wasn't the kind of man to settle down," said his mother.
"I knew that, but I couldn't resist him."
"I wish he had married you," said Bobby, reaching for her hand.
Her eyes cleared and narrowed. "Have any of...them
," she wasn't specific, but he knew who she was talking about, "asked
you to marry them?"
"No, Mamma," he said softly. "It's come up in conversation a
few times, but not that seriously."
"What is wrong with women these days?" she asked, her voice anxious.
"I guess women's liberation has made them feel like they don't have to
have a man to make a go of things," said Bobby.
"Not Jill," said his mother. "She married Sal, of all
people! Why wasn't she interested in you?"
"Did Ted ever ask you or Prudence to marry him?" asked Bobby.
"That's different!" she objected.
"Is it?" he asked.
"I didn't love him that way," moaned Mirriam.
"But you loved him in yes way," said Bobby.
"Yes ... I still do, I suppose. Just not that way," she sighed.
"That's how they've all felt about me," he said.
Erica made it almost ten days before she was so agitated that she
couldn't keep her attention on the classes she was teaching.
Twice she found herself standing in front of the class, gazing off into
nothing, thinking about one of her dreams.
Her dreams since losing her virginity had changed radically.
Her conscious mind might not remember all the details of that wild and
stormy night, but her subconscious could. It played back what
had happened in her dreams, in vivid Technicolor.
She woke wet from those dreams. Twice she had to wake Will,
because her fingers couldn't bring her satisfaction. She had
come very close to climbing on top of her brother, like he had described Christy doing.
Will knew her well. He had no such problem, because along
with his education in darkroom procedures, Christy kept him almost
completely satisfied. He was more relaxed and less angry than
at any time since he could remember. He was willing to fulfil his childhood dream ... of having his penis in his beautiful sister, but he knew that Erica would
end up feeling guilty if that happened. That and the fact that he was so satisfied, let him help her resist
that. Christy had taught him how to use his fingers
on her, while she sucked his dick, and he did that with Erica too,
penetrating her and making her go stiff with the power of her orgasms.
But she knew there was an even better feeling. And she knew
where that feeling was. It was only her stubbornness that
kept her from calling Bobby for those ten days. That and the
fact that she had Will.
Then Christy asked Will to spend the night with her again.
That night Erica was almost crazy. She couldn't sleep and
couldn't relax. She rubbed three times and was a wreck at
school the next day.
She called Bobby as soon as she got home.
"I need to see you," she said, when he came on the phone.
"When?" he asked.
"Right now," she said, her voice tight with frustration.
"Be right there," he said.
Will was at Christy's. Erica was elated for her brother, in
that sense. That he was learning a trade and would have
something to fill his days made her almost weep with
happiness. He had even been talking about having her take him
to the VA in Wichita to look into prosthetics. She got the
phone book and found the number. When Christy answered, she
asked if it might be possible for Will to stay over again.
"That would not be a problem," said Christy, humor in her voice.
"Thank you," said Erica.
Erica's mind was too jumbled up to be able to make any real assessment
about what was happening to her. Life seemed to have been
flashing by like a locomotive, while she stood three feet from the
tracks. The wind of life's passage had been swirling around
her. Her new sexual urges were like a dust storm in which all
she could see was what was right in front of her face. And
what was right in front of her face was Bobby.
Had she been able to think about things calmly, she might have realized
that she was deep in the midst of adolescent growth, even though she
had technically been an adult for years. That adolescent rush
forward is usually controlled, at least to some extent, by the
conventions of society. While many teenagers "have sex,"
there isn't one of them who doesn't know that they shouldn't be "having
sex." It's one of those things that's built into
the tangled structure of "dos" and "don'ts" that weaves through our
society like threads in a tapestry.
For those reasons, Erica felt guilty about having sex. She
felt guilty about having sex with her brother and she felt guilty for
the insane need she had to feel Bobby's stiff prick in her
pussy. Added on top of that were restrictions that she had
imposed on herself, about feminism and her desire to be independent of
need for men in general.
But, as strong as societal values are, nature is much
stronger. Society's rules have been in play for some ten or fifteen thousand years. Mother Nature's biological imperative has
been around for millions of years. The only species who "beat" Mother Nature are the ones that went extinct.
In short, the war between society and nature was being waged and, in
this particular battle in Erica Bradford's body, society wasn't doing
well at all. Society was being beaten back by the efforts of
Bobby Dalton.
Sweat was dripping from Bobby's nose and chin. Erica had been
frantic for the first forty minutes. Her orgasms, both from
his prick and from his treatment of her nipples, had come like a row of
dominos, falling in order until he had to stop to give her time to get
some air into her lungs.
"You stopped," she gasped, her eyes wild.
"You're about to pass out," he pointed out.
"You ... let ... me ... worry ... about ... that," she panted.
On top like this, he couldn't get to her nipples and stay fully
inserted all the way. So he rolled them over and sat her up,
letting her lean forward into his hands while they worked on her
breasts.
She belly danced through three more orgasms before he started squeezing
her nipples and keeping them squeezed, only letting off the pressure
just long enough for them to fill with blood again,
occasionally. To be honest, Bobby was enjoying his first
opportunity to see how much a woman could actually take.
Finally, he saw her eyes roll up in her head and felt her go limp, and
let her fall forward to flop onto his chest.
He rolled her off, made sure she was breathing, and went to get a
washcloth soaked in cold water.
She came around quickly and tried to sit up. He held her down
with his hands on her shoulders.
"I'll be here all night," he said softly.
Tears flooded her eyes.
"I need you so much," she bawled.
"You have me," he said, lying down beside her and holding her again.
She calmed eventually. He could tell she was embarrassed.
"You make me feel really good," he said.
"Really?" Her voice was high. She had never felt
this dependent on a man in her life.
"No man could resist a woman like you," he said. "You make me
feel like I'm the most important man in the world."
"Don't get a big head," she sighed, smiling for the first time since he
got there.
"It's not my head you make get big," he said, leaning in for a kiss.
She spread her legs, bringing the one away from him up and opening
herself wide. Her vulva were a mess of pale, spermy liquid.
"I feel like such a slut," she panted.
"I don't do this with sluts," he said, getting up.
When he mounted her again he tried to just stroke her and let her enjoy the feeling without
abusing her clit. That seemed to be working. Her
hands were roaming along his arms and shoulders, and her hips were
thrusting up against him, but not with the same animal urgency as
before.
"You know," he said casually. "When you go on the pill, I've
heard it takes a month before it's really effective."
"Pill?"
"Birth control pills?"
She blinked. "I'm not on the pill." Her eyes
widened. "I didn't even think of that!" Her eyes
got teary again. "I just needed you so badly ... I couldn't
think of anything else."
"Why didn't you call me sooner?" he asked.
"Because I'm stubborn!" she whined.
"I should stop," he said. Suddenly the urge to spew in her
was urgent.
"You can't stop!" she blurted. "We're not done yet."
"I came in you last time," he said, staring into her eyes. "I
told you to get off of me and you didn't. Now I've cum in you again. I don't think you
want my baby in your belly."
"I'll douche!" she yipped. "Please don't stop."
"I can't do this forever without cumming," he huffed.
"You can take it out, then," she moaned.
"I'm ready to take it out now," he panted.
"Not yet!" Her legs went around him.
"Ohhhh Erica," he moaned. He thought about just jerking it
out of her. Her legs weren't strong enough to stop
him. He'd always had this weakness. He knew
it. He always felt it. When he was on top of a
fertile woman, he almost needed to try to make her pregnant.
He'd never agonized about it before. He warned them and then
he didn't worry. Misty had changed that, though.
He'd made a baby in a woman and he wouldn't get to see that baby.
"Please," she begged. "Not yet. I can feel it
coming."
"So can I," he groaned.
He gave up. He slammed in and ground against her
clit. She yipped and ground back at him, babbling that he
only needed to do it for just a little longer.
By the time she wound down from an orgasm that had made her laugh with
happiness, her womb was awash with his second load of sperm for the evening.
It took all night for her to be satisfied. She woke three
times and, each time, she woke him too. She got the orgasm she needed each time, and each time he added a regiment of little wriggling soldiers to the army assaulting her womb. When he finally left
in the morning, telling her he had to get to work, she was so exhausted
that she fell asleep within ten minutes of hearing the front door close.
She did not get up to douche.
Throughout March, Bobby worked on plans to renovate two more of his
sisters' rooms into guest rooms. The greatest challenge was
the bathroom arrangements. The existing bathroom was across
from the room that had already been renovated. After looking
at the structural issues, Bobby decided the most workable solution for
the other two was to build a second story onto the utility room and
pantry, which were on the back of the house. It would hold two bathrooms, made accessible by putting a door in what had been
the outside walls of Mary's and Bev's rooms. The existing
drain/waste system in the utility room could be tied into, and water
could be taken up from the lines that went to the washer and sink in
that room as well.
It meant that whoever was in Flo's old room would have to walk across
the hall to use a bathroom, but it was the best they could do with the
limited funds Misty had been able to buy in with. Besides, he
might think of something else while he did the structural work, which
he thought would take until about August. Then they could do
the interior work. With luck, they could be open for business
in the fall.
Erica was kept busy for most of March herself, helping Will make
arrangements with the VA hospital to get into the system for working on
his leg. Because he was so recently released from Walter
Reed, that went much more smoothly than anticipated, though numerous
trips to Wichita were required. Christy helped several times
when one of his appointments fell during school hours.
Will was now spending a night or two a week at Christy's and was
already helping with production. He could do almost
everything except load the exposed film into developing reels, but that
was really no problem because Christy could load the canisters and
after that Will could take over to finish the developing. Once the film was in the can, chemicals could be added later, at any time. The onlly time Christy put a lid on a can now, was when it had film in it. The other cans and lids were kept in separate compartments on the shelf above the sink.
With Will being away from home that often, Erica didn't wait so long to
call Bobby again. Once a week wasn't quite enough, but she
still resisted having him over more often. She made up for
that by keeping him there all night. Her appetite for sex,
once she'd discovered it, tended to lean toward marathon
lovemaking sessions rather than several short times in a week.
She read up on the pill and didn't like what she found.
Possible side effects, such as blood clots, seemed ridiculous to
chance. Instead, she decided to rely on spermicidal creams,
foams and even bought suppositories, all of which embarrassed her,
initially, because Bobby wanted to help her "install" them, as he
called it. It was impossible to stay embarrassed, though,
because everything Bobby did with her was so intimate.
Eventually she got used to being naked with him, and eventually that
led to her trying to learn how to tease him.
She went shopping in Wichita one Saturday, while Will was being fitted
with his first fully functional leg, she saw a lingerie shop and went
in. She felt like she was in a foreign country, and thought
more than once that she would never have even considered some of the
things they sold if it weren't for Bobby Dalton. She left
with several purchases.
Bobby's reaction was more than enthusiastic. After wearing
her first outfit for him, Erica Bradford decided that maybe she was a
slut, at least when it came to Bobby. She also decided she
didn't care, because he made her feel like the most important woman in
the world. The primary change in her attitude about that was
simple. When Bobby made love with her, it was impossible to
feel like she was being exploited, whether she teased him with slutty
outfits first or not. She also knew that she was still in control of her own destiny. Bobby was simply a part of that destiny.
On April the first, Erica Bradford accepted an invitation from Bobby to
go for a hike with him. He took her on a trail that, after
about a mile and a half, led to an old abandoned farmhouse.
She felt the melancholy of the old house, silent and empty now, after
years of life and noise had graced its walls. It only seemed
fitting to grace its walls with the sounds of love again and they went
inside.
They had been chatting about things in general, just talking as they
trudged along. Now, as she stood in the sad, old empty house,
the melancholy of it all made her need human contact.
It started, quite simply, with a kiss.
His kiss was hungry and her body responded like it had been responding
so readily recently. His fingertips drifting across the tips
of her breasts, while he kissed her, inflamed her and she bared her
breasts through the front of her shirt. She had an orgasm
standing, almost fully dressed, in the middle of an empty room.
It was still cool, but Bobby's back pack proved to contain two
blankets. When he pulled them out, his intent was clear and
Erica's body sang with anticipation. She got into her own
back pack to find the fat, yellow pill, that looked like an M&M
on steroids, so she could give it to Bobby to insert into her spasming
pussy.
It wasn't there.
She searched frantically. She remembered laying the new pack
next to the back pack ... but not putting the box into it.
"Damn!" she moaned.
"What's wrong?"
"I forgot my suppositories!" she complained. "I thought I put
them in here, but I didn't."
Bobby smiled.
"It's all right," he said. "We can wait." He
stepped closer to her. "Or I can get you off other
ways." His hands went to her still naked breasts, protruding
from her shirt.
But, in that war between culture and nature going on in Erica's body,
culture was suffering more and more.
"I don't want your fingers!" she said, feeling her breasts heat up just
from his fingers on them. "I want another part of you!"
She dropped the useless backpack.
"It's okay," she said, spreading her shirt. "I can take care of
things when we get back."
Bobby lay on his back, naked, on one blanket and Erica draped the other
over them as she, also naked, climbed on top of him and lowered herself
onto his prick, taking it deep into her belly.
She rode him through three orgasms. With his back on the hard
floor instead of a soft bed when she sank down on him, his penis pushed
half an inch further into her than before and she felt the ecstatic
pain/pleasure of her cervix being stretched.
After her third orgasm, Erica started milking him off. It was
a game they had started playing a couple of weeks ago. She
sat still on him and, using only her pussy muscles, tried to defeat his
ability to refrain from spurting in her.
Now, in the dry bones of a house that represented only death and decay,
her muscles triumphed, and Bobby's sperm-laced semen jetted into her
womb, where an egg, the harbinger of new life, lay waiting, just inside the fallopian tube it had traveled through.
Erica's luck ... and time ... had run out. To be honest, even if she'd had the suppository, it probably wouldn't have killed all the sperm Bobby jetted into her. And it only takes one. The war had been
lost. Erica became fully the woman of the species.
It was only fitting that they created new life amidst the ruins of old
life, where, it was likely, so many other lives had at one time been
created. It was also somewhat ironic, because the
feminist Erica Bradford had tried too hard to be, had never been more
... female ... than she was as her body started to create new life.
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