The Making of a Gigolo (6) - Christy Brown

by Lubrican

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

Chapter Three

Bobby had been to see Prudence, earlier in the day. She was almost bursting and was miserable, but making the best of it. Her due date was still a week away, in the first week of October. Mamma had seen Ted today, and had come home glowing. Her hug had been sensual, an after-effect of the loving he knew Ted had given her.

"You feeling better these days?" he'd asked, pressing her loins with his gently.

"Yes, I am, young man," she said firmly, pressing back. "And I'll thank you not to push that thing against me."

He could tell she didn't mean it, and had kissed her again. She hadn't pushed him away.

"I'm glad I met him," she said, when he pulled back. "He makes it much easier to resist you."

Bobby smiled. "It doesn't make it any easier for me to resist you," he countered.

"You just behave yourself," she said, still clasping him to her. "I said it was easier, not easy."

"A boy can dream," sighed Bobby.

"A boy shouldn't dream about his mother," she said.

"A boy dreams about every beautiful, sexy woman he sees," grinned Bobby. "Whether she's his mother or not."

She did push him away then, but he could see that she wanted to kiss him again. That was enough. He didn't really want, in one sense, to make love with his mother. On the other hand, the idea didn't bother him at all. He had no idea if it would ever happen or not, but that was the same as with many other women he knew. To Bobby, Mirriam Dalton was two women ... his mother ... and Mirriam Dalton.

"It's late," she said, even though it was only eight-thirty. "I'm going to bed."

"Again?" he teased.

She shot him a look, frowned, and then stuck her tongue out at him.

The windows were open, and a cool breeze was blowing through them. Bobby lay on his bed, reading. He expected the door to open, and for three sisters to come in.

He wasn't disappointed.

On the last day of September, Bobby was sharpening an axe when he saw Christy's car drive up to the house. She got out, carrying a case, and a tripod. He walked out to meet her.

"Hey," he said, smiling.

She smiled back. That his simple greeting sent a thrill through her belly was neither unexpected, anymore, nor disconcerting.

"Hi, handsome," she flirted. "Are they all ready?"

"Are who ready?" he asked.

"Your mother and sisters!" she said. "I'm here to make the portraits."

"You are?"

"Didn't they tell you?" she asked, surprised. "I talked to your mother on the phone."

"Nobody said a word," he said. "Let's go find out."

In fact, the girls had been excited all day, and Bobby had noticed that, but he hadn't explored it. One or the other of them was always excited about something or other. He'd been busy all day getting things ready for winter. He'd tuned up the tractor, which, while it wasn't used for farming any longer, was still critical when the snows fell deep, or a dead tree needed being hauled where it could be transformed into fire wood. He hadn't been in the house since lunch.

As it turned out, the girls were ready. Mirriam was too. They had spent all afternoon getting ready too, and the transformation from regular sister, and same old Mamma, to women who wanted to be beautiful for a portrait was almost alarming. The house was full of gorgeous women, in their best dresses, wearing makeup, and with their hair done up.

Bobby was ignored, for the most part, once he'd made the introductions, and Christy started scurrying around, setting up a place for the portraits to be taken. She apologized for not having good lights, and then commenced to make her own, out of theirs, using cardboard and tin foil, assisted by tape and other things they expected Bobby to produce instantly. The most interesting thing to Bobby was that she wanted a light of some kind to hang from the ceiling. After she explained it was to highlight the hair, he wired a light socket to an extension cord and made a shade for it out of cardboard and tin foil.

Finally the posing area was ready, and the camera was set up and ready.

Matilda and Betty were first, both because they were the youngest, at fourteen, and because they were twins. Each sat separately, and then together. They had, for once, dressed in identical outfits, and their long blond hair was done in big hanging curls. The only difference was the color of the ribbon in their hair. Matilda's was dark purple, and Betty's was forest green.

Then Susie went, followed up the chain by Linda and Beverly. When Bev was done, Florence stepped up and sat down.

Bobby had been watching all of them, and was astonished at how beautiful each one had looked. He reacted to them as females, because they just didn't look like the sisters he was used to seeing every day. He had one moment of ironic thought that this was being done because he had wanted to have something to remember them by, later in life, and the product would end up being something he had seen only once, in real life.

When Flo sat down, Bobby almost sighed. Flo was the tomboy, who almost never had her hair out of a pony tail. She had begged Mamma to let her hack it all off when she was fourteen. Mamma had simply forbidden it, and that was that. Now that auburn hair was swept into whorls that seemed to defy gravity. He'd find out later that Mamma had helped her with it, and that, as wonderful as it looked, it felt hard, and brittle to the touch, because of all the hair spray that had been put on it. The dress she was wearing, which, in itself was startling, came a few inches above her knees, and dipped low enough in the front to show the swells of her modest breasts. She was tanned from all the time she spent outside, and somehow, they had made it look as if the exposed skin of her upper chest was also tanned. She was wearing lipstick, something Bobby had never seen on her lips, and makeup, which just blew him away. Her eyelashes looked longer, somehow and, as she sat, she looked at everyone through lowered lashes.

"I feel stupid," came Flo's completely recognizable voice. It was almost jarring, hearing her normal voice from this vision of loveliness.

"You're gorgeous," sighed Bobby.

She pinked up. It could be seen even through her makeup, and Christy immediately triggered the camera.

"I wasn't ready!" said Flo.

"We'll take more," said Christy.

She did take more, but, later, when Bobby saw the photographs, the one he fell in love with was the one of Flo, looking through lowered lashes, blushing faintly, her lips parted and wet looking. He thought it was the sexiest picture he'd ever seen in his life.

Mirriam was next. She'd pulled her hair into a thick braid, which pulled at the skin of her face, making her cheekbones prominent. She sat, regally, in a maroon velvet dress that Bobby hadn't even known she owned. The girls had worked on her makeup as a group, and had somehow come up with eye shadow that went with the color of the dress perfectly, and a pale lipstick that made her lips look larger and more full than usual.

Bobby realized he was fully erect, almost painfully so, and turned around to adjust his penis in his jeans. Everyone, except Flo was looking at Mamma, and only she noticed. His eyes came up to see hers pinned on him. All he could do was smile and shrug his shoulders slightly. Her face was unreadable.

After Mirriam's photos were done, though, it was Flo who said: "What about Bobby?"

"We'll get to him later," said Christy, her voice businesslike.

Then there were the group pictures. Christy let them decide what groups to form. Bev and Linda wanted a portrait of them. They had lived together in the same room for as long as either of them could remember. It was the same with Suzie and the twins, who were in the same room. The twins had bunk beds, and Suzie had a twin bed. Suzie had been given the option of moving in with Flo when Mary got married and left, but had turned it down, much to Flo's delight. It wasn't that she didn't love her little sister. She just enjoyed the novelty and freedom of being able to be alone, once in a while.

Christy sat Mirriam on the bench, and then surrounded her with her daughters. In one shot, they were arranged by age, from left to right. In another, they were all mixed up. She took pictures with different daughters sitting on either side of their mother, and of the girls all crammed onto the bench, and kneeling beside it, with Mirriam standing behind them.

Finally she stopped. "I guess that's all we can do until Mary gets here," she said. She started to turn, and then said "Wait!"

Everybody froze.

"I want to try something," she said. "I want to put Bobby in some pictures with you ... just like he is."

Everyone looked at Bobby, who was wearing a faded checkered shirt, and jeans, with streaks of brown, dusty dirt on them. His hair was askew, and there were smudges of dirt on his cheek and forehead, where he had wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

There were murmurs of doubt, but they let Christy explore the idea she'd had.

First, again, were the twins. Christy put Bobby on the bench, sitting up ramrod straight, and looking serious. She put the twins behind him, with one of their hands on either shoulder, and told them to smile.

"Wow," said Linda, from behind Christy.

Christy turned around.

"It just looks so ... cool!" said Linda. "I mean the contrast is just amazing."

"That's what I was going for," said Christy, smiling. She turned around and took the picture. She took one with Matilda standing behind him, and to one side, and Betty sitting primly on one of his knees, with her feet between his legs, and then reversed them. She tried one with both girls sitting, one on either knee, but didn't like the composition. She took more, some with him smiling, with the girls in various positions.

Going through that set of pictures had given all the others ideas about what they wanted, and, by the time Mary came hurrying through the back door of the house, Christy had gone through five rolls of film.

Mary came to a skidding stop, when she saw her sisters, dressed as they were.

"Oh my gosh!" she squealed. "You guys are beautiful!"

She hadn't gotten quite as done up as the others, though she was wearing the new dress that Fred had insisted she wear, and which had a special built-in bra, because it dipped so low that it went below the bottom of her breasts. It exposed what she considered to be an enormous amount of her upper body. It had spaghetti straps, and the material was loosely pleated, though her breasts flattened some of those pleats, as did the still gentle swell of her pregnant belly. It was made of some light fabric that would, if there was wind, flutter about her legs, which were exposed above the knee. She had worn thigh-high stockings with it, because she thought her legs were too pale. She was also wearing a garter belt, another addition to her wardrobe that Fred was responsible for. He loved sexy panties, and, on special occasions, she met him wearing only those panties, garter belt, and stockings, when he came home from work.

"Look at that dress!" squealed Linda. "Wow! You look sexy!"

"Thank you," said Mary, blushing. "I'm late because, when I looked in the mirror, I almost couldn't go out in public in it. I was afraid you guys wouldn't like it."

She was met with a babble of feminine voices, wanting to know where she got it, and how much it cost, and did it come in smaller sizes.

Christy shouted them all down. "Okay," she said. "Let's get a couple of shots with Bobby, like the others, and then he can go get cleaned up for some more. While he's doing that, I'll take Mary's shots."

Mary acknowledged Christy, saying how nice it was to see her again, and then let herself be pushed to the bench. Christy went through the same kind of arrangements, though she didn't have Mary sit on one of his knees, saying she was too tall, though everybody there knew it was because she was too old for that. Bobby's favorite, as it would turn out, was the one where he was standing behind her, his hands on her waist, his fingertips almost on her belly. They were both smiling in that one, and there wasn't quite the difference in look, because she wasn't so heavily made up, and his clothing was hidden from the camera, except for his shoulder.

Very quickly, Christy remembered to re-take some of the shots of the whole group with Bobby, and then sent him to get changed into nicer clothes. He was surprised to see Flo moving to go with him.

"I need to do your hair," she said.

"I can do my own hair," he snorted.

"Yes, and it will look like it always does," she said. "Go on." She pushed him. "Go take a quick bath."

While he was in the bathroom, Flo picked out clothes for him to wear. He owned a nice outfit or two, for wearing to weddings and funerals and such, and she laid one out on the bed.

He came in, naked, and toweling his head. She stood, and handed him items of clothing to put on, watching as he got dressed.

"You look really good," he said.

"I look really stupid," she retorted.

"You're beautiful," he said.

"You just want to get into my panties," she came back.

"Especially when you look like that," he agreed.

He knotted his tie, and she straightened it for him, and then sat him down to work on his hair. She took an inordinate amount of time, combing it this way, and then that way, and flicking her fingertips at it, while he stared at her cleavage. She kept going until it was dry enough that it did what she wanted, and didn't look wet, and then told him to stand up.

Without a word, she stepped up, put her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him. It was a long, tender kiss, just like the ones she had been getting every night, for the last week. She and Linda had been going to his room, with Bev, and watching. Each of them kissed him, sometimes more than once. Feeling his lips on hers had become something that didn't frighten her any more. It still disturbed her, and made her have to masturbate ... but it didn't scare her, like it had.

"I love you," he said.

"I know," she said back. "That's the problem." She wiped at his lips with her thumb, where she had gotten lipstick on them. "Let's go," she said. "Straighten your thing. You'll scare the twins."

He grinned at her, and adjusted the erection she knew she was responsible for.

While they had been gone, the women had worked on Mary, fluffing her hair, and applying makeup. Her lips looked delicious, and the mascara and eyeliner made her eyes leap out.

For whatever reason, Christy decided to do things backwards, and took more pictures of Bobby with Mary first. At one point, while she was fiddling with the camera, and Bobby was standing behind her, he leaned his lips toward her ear.

"You're so beautiful it hurts," he said. He pressed his erection into her bottom.

She turned her face, to look back at him, a look of adoration on it, and Christy snapped the shot. When they saw it later, he was looking adoringly at her, and she was returning the look. It always made him hard, when he saw that picture in later years.

He did the same thing with his mother, when he was standing behind her, leaning forward to tell her how beautiful she was. His hands were around her, resting on her stomach, and her hands were on top of his. She squeezed, and pressed back into him slightly, but didn't turn, like Mary had. He had no idea he had just made her panties damp.

Finally they were finished. Christy had taken ten rolls of film.

It was the first week of October. Jill molded her naked body against him, and kissed his shoulder.

"You have no idea how much this means to me," she said, her fingertips tracing over his chest.

"Have you told him yet?" he asked.

"Roger?" she said. "No. I don't know if I even will."

"I thought that was the idea," he said.

"I know what I said, way back then," she said. "You were right, though. That's not a good reason to get pregnant."

"So why did you?" he asked.

"Because you didn't use anything to protect me when you made love to me," she said, squeezing one of his nipples.

"You could have used something," he said.

"Why do men always think it's the woman's job?" she snorted, pinching his nipple harder. He jerked and brushed her hand away, covering his injured nipple with his hand.

"Besides," she said. "I wanted to get pregnant for other reasons."

"Really?" he asked. "What reasons?"

"Because I love you, and want your baby," she said.

"But you don't want to get married?"

"Nope." Her voice was matter-of-fact.

"That seems so strange," he said.

"Wait and see how strange it is when I want you to get me pregnant again," she said.

That got her another two orgasms, and another pussy full of hot spunk.

When they again lay there, panting for breath, and she was again, stroking his chest, she nipped his shoulder.

"I should pay you for this," she said. "That's how good you make me feel."

"I don't want your money," he said. His hand came to stroke her belly. "I want to be able to put a baby right here."

"You already did," she said, leaning up to kiss him on the corner of the mouth. "And I've never been happier in my life."

"I'm very glad you feel that way," he said.

She giggled. "It's kind of a relief when the woman you knocked up isn't demanding to get married, huh?."

"I could be very happy, married to you," he said.

"That makes me feel even better," she said. "But no ... I'm not ready for that again, yet. We'll see if things change. I might propose to you later."

"Don't wait too long," he said. "There might be other women."

"There are already other women," she said. "All those women who think so highly of you."

"I didn't have sex with all of them," he said.

"Well, the ones who didn't let you should have their heads examined," she sighed.

"You want to go again, don't you?" He grinned.

"Yes," she said. "If you can get it up again within five minutes, I'll give you my car."

"What?" He laughed.

"I don't use it," she said, reaching for his penis. "It needs work, and I can't afford to get it done. What's the matter, stud? Can't perform?"

Fifteen minutes later she lay there, limp and satisfied. Her pussy was running over with thick spunk. He leaned over to kiss her goodbye.

"Wait," she groaned.

With what looked like an effort, she rolled over and stood up. She padded, naked out of the room, and to the kitchen, while he followed her. On the way she scooped up a drip of his semen from where it was running down her leg, and licked her fingers clean. She went to the calendar, which was hanging on a nail, and took a set of keys off the nail. She opened his hand, and put them in it.

"You don't have to do that," he said.

"I don't need it, and you do," she said. "You have something I need too, and have been giving it to me very unselfishly. Just promise me you'll keep doing it."

"I'd have kept doing it anyway," he said, leaning forward to kiss her.

"Go on!" she said, pushing him. "You're making me horny again, and I'm sore from the beating you just gave me!"

"I didn't make the five minute time limit," he said, grinning.

"I hope it starts," she said, ignoring him. "It might even make it to your house, but I doubt it."

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