The Making of a Gigolo (8) - Felicity Chumley
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She bought him two suits, a sport jacket, ten shirts of various hues, and five ties. It was the kind of place that could do the alterations in the same day, for the right amount of money. She took him to another store, while the alterations were being done, and got him four pair of casual slacks off the rack, and two more shirts.
"I thought this deal was only two days," he said.
"Yes," she said, in shopping mode now, and easily able to ignore his tug. "But there will be three nights. We arrive one evening, and will probably go out that night. Then there's the first day of the reunion, and we'll go out that night for sure. The second day is really for those who couldn't make it on the first day. We'll be too tired to drive home, so we'll go out that night and then come home the next morning. So it's three nights and two days, in all."
"Oh," he said. "Sounds like fun. Where do you suppose we'll go out at night?"
"That will all depend on the people who are there," she said. "They may want to go to a club, or to an Opera, perhaps, or maybe there will just be a party somewhere. We won't know that until it happens. That's why I'm getting you a range of clothing. We want to be prepared for anything."
"Well, then we have more shopping to do," he said. "For you too, I'm guessing."
"What are you talking about?" she asked, holding a pullover shirt up to his chest.
"One of the big scenes these days is Country and Western dancing. I've got clothes at home I could wear for that, but they're not new. I doubt you have anything to wear to something like that."
"I wouldn't know how to dance at a place like that," she said.
"Well, then," he said. "While you're teaching me how to go to an opera, I'll teach you how to two step."
He had tried on dozens of outfits for her, and come out of dressing rooms dozens of times. She had looked at him with professionally critical eyes, looking for the things that made an outfit look right or wrong on him. Now it was her turn to come out of a dressing room, wearing what he had picked out for her.
"This is ridiculous," she said, pulling the curtain apart and sticking only her face out.
"Come on," he said, grinning.
"You're teasing me," she said. "You don't actually expect me to wear this."
"I don't know," he said. "Let's see it."
She came out in a lavender, sequined tank top, over a jeans skirt with fringe on the hem, which only came to mid thigh. He'd picked purple cowboy boots, and a hat to match. She looked fabulous. The tank top clung to her breasts like skin, and her legs were superb.
"I approve," he said.
"Of course you do," she said. "You can probably see the freckles on my boobs, this thing is so tight. And if I bent over, you could see my panties!"
"That's why you aren't supposed to wear panties with that outfit," he said calmly.
She blushed bright red. "Okay, buster, you've had your fun. Now, get me a real outfit!"
He ended up getting her a doeskin shirt that had built in cups for the breasts to go in, but didn't amount to a bra. That's because the back was all held together by strings, that basically showed a bare back. The dark maroon skirt went to just above the knee, but the hem was weighted so that if she spun, it would rise and show whatever she was wearing under it. He didn't tell her that part. He kept the hat and boots, though. They went with the skirt and top.
"There's no back to this thing," she complained from inside the dressing room.
"It's all the rage in Western dance clubs," he said, lying through his teeth. He had no idea what the rage was. He knew how to two step, and that was it. This outfit had been in the "Dancing Clothing" section, and he thought she'd look good in it, so that's what he picked up.
"I can't wear a bra with this," she complained.
"It has one built in," he said.
"Yes, but it won't hold me still."
"And your point is?" he said, laughing.
Her face came through the curtain again.
"My point is that I'll jiggle like Jell-O!"
"That, my dear, is exactly what I'm going for." He grinned. "I want every man who didn't beg you to marry him in High School to rue the day he let you get past him. I want every man who sees you to get a stomach ache, thinking that, had he been just a bit smarter, he could be the one you're going to the hotel with that night. I want you to destroy them all. I'll ogle their women, of course, just so they don't feel left out."
"You're horrible," she said, feeling the flush of pleasure his words had brought to her. He sounded passionate about wanting her to look sexy. It made her want to look sexy too. "If you're sure ... I'll get it ... but if I'm the only one dressed like this, we're leaving."
"Iím sure," he said firmly. It would be worth it if the only place he got to see her in it was in the hotel room.
She came out, dressed in her traveling clothes, and handed the other items to the clerk, telling her to bag them up.
"Now," she said. "We'll need a swim suit for you. Do you have one?"
"At our place, if you go swimming in the pond, you're skinny dipping," he said.
She put her hands on her hips, looked him up and down, and took him to another store. She had him try on ten different suits. It wasn't until the fifth one that he figured out she just liked looking at his bare chest and legs. She finally settled on the tightest one.
"That's the one," she said.
He looked down. He could see the outline of his prick in it, and the swell of his balls below that.
"You're kidding," he said, raising an eyebrow.
"The girls will just die when they see that. We definitely have to go swimming."
"So, is it my turn to ogle you in a dozen swim suits?" he asked.
"No," she said lightly. "I already have one." She turned to the clerk, who was female, and who had had just as much fun watching Bobby model swim suits as Felicity admitted to herself she'd had. "We'll take that one," she said.
"Do you need any help getting it off, Sir?" asked the girl.
"He'll do just fine by himself," snapped Felicity. "Besides, if anybody helps him, it would be me. We're married!"
The girl rolled her eyes, as if to say "Sure you are, honey, and I'm Dolly Parton," and went back to her work. That look was not lost on Felicity.
Back in the car she said so. "She didn't believe we're married," she said, worriedly.
"I saw her checking out your ring, and then my hand," said Bobby. "I'll need a wedding band."
"Of course!" said Felicity, feeling a little better.
"And, we have a lot more work to do to get to that comfortable place happily married people are in." Bobby looked at her to see her reaction. She had relaxed, while shopping, but had tensed up when she claimed to be married to him.
She looked over at him. Now that they weren't shopping, he affected her again. She was amazed that she could have looked at him so much, and been so unaffected in the stores, but that now that he was just sitting there, the butterflies were back in her stomach.
The suits were ready. By the time they were in the trunk, it was full. They stopped at a burger joint, and ate, while he told her a little about his own childhood, and then they headed back to Granger. Once there, she said she'd place his things in a guest room. The plan was for him to stay at the mansion for three days before they left for Kansas City. That would get them both used to seeing each other all day long.
Nothing was said about the nights.
That night, in his own room at the farm, Linda visited him again. She didn't even try to hide the fact that she was trying to get him in her again. The first time, though, had been by accident, and she couldn't figure out how she'd done it. Bobby didn't help her, until she got frustrated.
"You're sure you want this?" he asked, softly.
"Yes," she moaned.
He rolled her over. With Linda, he wanted to be in control, for some reason. He laid her knees on top of his shoulders, leaving her helpless and bent in half. Her pussy was perfectly aligned for his prick, when he slotted the head between her pussy lips. She was wet, from all her playing and trying. To ease what he knew would be discomfort, at best, and pain, at worst, he bent down and sucked hard on a nipple as he slowly pushed her full of prick. She made grunting sounds, mixed with moans. She'd only had two inches in her before, when it was fully hard, and now she was skewered.
Once inside her, he stopped. In this position, his prick didn't hit her clitty, and he had to use both hands to support them. He knew that while it felt wonderful for him, she might not be able to cum this way. As he felt her tightness begin to relax, he gave an experimental withdrawal and shove, and she yipped and panted. He did it again, and the look on her face told him all he needed to know.
Slowly, he started withdrawing almost all the way, and then sliding back in. Her round eyes, and panting puffs of stuttering breathing said she was feeling things she wasn't quite prepared for. Speeding up seemed to rob her of the ability to speak, and she gasped for air, her hands banging on the bed beside her hips. When he started moving really fast, she started whining. It was getting louder and louder, so he bent her further and, using just his abdominal muscles, began short jackrabbit in and out thrusts, while he covered her mouth with his.
It was her cries into his mouth that told him she was, indeed, having an orgasm. This position was hard on him, so his mindset changed and he went after his own release. As she wound down, he finally pushed in deep, getting a grunting hiss from her, and bathed her cervix with hot spunk. Her kisses became almost frantic as she felt the heat, deep in her belly, and her hands came to pull his face to hers.
They froze there, with her bent over, and his weight holding her. When he was sure he'd dribbled his last into her, he moved back. She took a huge breath of air as her lungs were allowed to inflate. He stayed in her, but moved her legs off his shoulders. Then he grasped her hips and lifted them, pulling her against him, as he rocked back to sit on his calves. Her hips ended up off the bed and resting on his thighs.
"What ... are you ... doing?" she panted.
"Holding you up, so my sperm goes in your womb," he said.
"Why?" she huffed.
"So that, if your pills don't work, I'll get you pregnant," he said, grinning.
"You want ... to get me ... pregnant?" she panted, her eyes opening wide.
"Sure do," he said. He let her butt back down on the bed and, still inside her, leaned down to kiss her again. "I want to give my baby sister a big, round belly, just like Mamma's."
The response wasn't quite what he'd intended. What he'd intended was for her to think about how dangerous this was, whether she was on the pill or not. Nothing worked a hundred percent of the time, and she needed to understand that. What he got, was another frantic kiss, as the idea of looking like her mother made Linda almost want to do that.
She thought her mother's pregnant belly was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.
For the next week Bobby spent most of each day at the Chumley residence. He was a big hit with the staff members, particularly Annie, who was unmarried, and just as susceptible to Bobby's charms as most other women seemed to be. At one point, it was a bone of contention between Bobby and Felicity.
"You're being cruel to her," Felicity said, as they sat at a table outside, sipping fruit juice.
"How?" asked Bobby.
"She has a crush on you, and you flirt with her and tease her all the time. That's not kind, when she'll never get a chance to take it any further." Felicity's voice was chiding.
"Who says she'll never get a chance?" asked Bobby. "I think she's a sweet girl, who deserves some fun in life."
Felicity felt the same thing she'd been feeling lately, when one of Bobby's "other women" came up in conversation. It irked her no end that she was jealous of Bobby's attentions to other women. She was still trying to convince herself that nothing would ever happen between them. That she was having to convince herself at all was also unsettling.
"You can't play with her emotions like that!" said Felicity, frowning.
"I wouldn't play with her emotions," said Bobby. "I'd just make love to her and make her happy."
"You can not just go around making love with my staff!" yipped Felicity.
"If we were actually married, I'd agree with you," he said, grinning. "But we're not." He reached out and touched her hand. "Though we are getting better at acting like it. At least in my opinion."
His fingertips on her hand made Felicity want to pull it away. That was something he'd been doing all week ... touching her. It wasn't anything obvious or lewd. He touched her elbow, or took her hand, briefly, as they walked side by side in the garden. He had a maddening tendency to wipe her lips for her, when they were snacking on something. It wasn't that she found his touch distasteful. Quite the opposite. That was the problem. Twice she had taken his hand, while walking. She'd let go immediately, but it was very troublesome.
Her husband wasn't helping either. Every night, he asked her how things had gone, while he stroked her and brought her to orgasm. The trouble was that he made her talk about Bobby, while he did that. She tried to tell herself it was only natural, under these circumstances, to think about Bobby's hands doing what Chester's hands were doing. It was getting so she didn't even want her own husband to make love to her!
She'd never thought of herself as a "hot-blooded" woman. Now, all day long, and at night, in bed with her husband, she kept thinking of sexual things. It was enough to drive even a strong woman to do strange things.
Such as what she'd done recently, at dinner one evening. Ramona seemed to take particular delight in serving them different dishes, as if they were eating in a restaurant, and had ordered different things from the menu. She said it was because that's how it would be on the trip, but more than once Annie, while blushing and serving him, said, "Ramona made this especially for you."
On that night, she'd wanted, for some reason, to taste his food. When he found out, he actually fed her with his own fork! And she'd found herself suddenly putting her fork in his mouth, while he went on and on about how good it was. Watching him just eat, after that, had gotten her so horny that she'd welcomed Chester's hands on her body, later that night.
It got so bad that she told him to take Saturday and Sunday off ... to spend time with his family, she said.
Actually, it was to give herself a chance to catch her breath.
At home, Linda was insatiable. She'd been going out with Paul, and she loved every minute of it. He was shy, and did not respond to her attempts to flirt with him. It was their third date before he leaned toward her, to kiss her. He'd chickened out, and pulled back, and she'd had to take his head in her hands and pull his lips to hers. She still giggled when she thought about the look that had been on his face after she did that.
She didn't push it with Paul. Part of that was because she really liked him, and didn't want their relationship to be strained. But most of it was because she had Bobby at home, and could climb in bed with him, to ease the ache in her loins after she'd been out with Paul.
She'd learned how to get him in her while she was on top, and particularly loved the feeling of letting her weight down on his stiff prick, as it went as deep as she could get it. Her assumption that all men were like him wasn't destroyed until much later, but she learned enough from him that she was able to teach Paul how to make her feel that good too. That was much later, of course.
It was good for Bobby too, because he found himself in a situation that was unfamiliar to him at the Chumley mansion. Always before, the woman he had chosen to ... "help" ... had been a willing participant in things, at least eventually. Felicity was a strong woman, with strong convictions and ideas, and was resisting his attempts to make her feel ... comfortable with him. It was good to have Linda each night, to let him expend his unused sexual energy.
He also spent time with his mother, twice sleeping with her, to massage her and lavish attention on her by spreading body lotion on her swollen belly while she sighed at the relief of his touch. It seemed like the baby would never come, to her.
The second week of "preparations" at the Chumley home wore heavily on Felicity. More and more she found herself laughing or giggling at something Bobby had done, or said. He really was fun to be with, and did the most outrageous things, such as kissing Annie's hand, when she served him something he especially liked, or spending ten minutes telling Ramona how good her homemade hot rolls were ... all the while begging for more of them.
When he suggested they swim in the pool, she didn't think anything about it. When she'd picked his swim suit, her mind had been compartmentalized. She'd been in shopping mode, with an eye toward critical examination of potential purchases. She hadn't let herself look at him as a man she'd be spending lots of time with. When she got to the pool, which he'd gotten to first, and he climbed up out of the water to greet her, she'd thought she might faint. She'd stood, frozen, her eyes pinned to the clear outline of his penis in the wet suit. His chest had looked a mile wide, and that devastating, somehow teasing smile was on his lips.
She hadn't given a thought to her own suit. She'd worn it to the pool at the house a hundred times, and it was something she never thought about any more. If she'd have taken the time to remember how she felt the first time she'd worn it for Chester, she might have decided that swimming with Bobby wasn't the best idea.
Her suit was a bikini. It was a pale rose color that got semi transparent when wet. It covered the center of each breasts, leaving the insides and the outsides bare. It was composed of two long triangles that joined at the bottom. The panty rode high on her hips, but covered her, both front and back, reasonably well. If she actually swam in it, it tended to creep between her buttocks in the back, but she learned to pull it back out almost automatically.
Chester had loved it.
Now, as Bobby approached her, with his penis all but bursting out of the suit she had chosen for him, she saw in his eyes that he loved it too.
She felt suddenly naked, and looked down in horror as she felt the tingling that always happened when Chester played with her breasts. Her unbelieving eyes saw her nipples betray her as they made dents in her bikini top.
"Beautiful," sighed Bobby, his eyes raking up and down her body. "Just beautiful."
She was so discomfited that she said, "Thank you" automatically, when what she wanted to say was, "You can't look at me like that!", and then turn around, and run back into the house.
Then he took her hand, like she was a princess, and stepped way too close to her. His blue eyes ended up inches from hers, and she felt like she was going to fall to the pool deck any second.
"I'm going to like pretending to be your husband very much, if you wear that."
He didn't even give her the chance to correct his behavior. Instead, he grinned and said, "Now I gotta go, before I really make you mad," and turned and dove into the pool. She didn't understand what he meant. She hadn't had the chance to see that the outline of his prick had gotten much longer, and much straighter in his trunks, before he hid it from her in the water.
If the pool situation was bad, though, it didn't hold a candle to his dancing lessons. She found herself standing in front of him, with her back to his front. One of his hands was reaching around to her stomach, and his other holding her arm out straight, while the beat of the music made it almost impossible not to bump her butt against the front of his jeans. He threw her, and pulled her back and spun her until she was dizzy, and had to hold on to his strong body. Her nipples tingled constantly, and she couldn't catch her breath. His running commentary on how she was doing and what to do next kept her mind spinning. Even dancing side by side, hip to hip, with his arm around her back made her tingle, as she tried to remember the steps. What she thought saved her was that sometimes, they danced apart too. That was so much easier.
And then there were the constant conversations they had, about everything under the sun. If they weren't doing something together, they were sitting and talking. He got her to talk about all kinds of things, as if he were really interested in what her life had been like, and what her feelings about things were. They had deep conversations about important things too, like capital punishment, cancer research, the war in Viet Nam, and a variety of other things she hadn't thought much about, but which suddenly seemed very important.
And always, Annie seemed to be throwing herself at him ... blushing ... saying how handsome he looked with his new haircut, or in the clothes Felicity had bought for him ... letting him kiss her hand ... and suddenly stopping conversations she was having with Ramona, when Felicity walked in. Felicity didn't admit her jealousy to herself until she thought about firing Annie.
Then, in bed with her husband, she cried.
"What's wrong, my sweet?" asked Chester, holding her.
"I thought about firing Annie today," she sobbed.
"Why on Earth would you do that?" he asked.
"I don't want to tell you," she moaned.
"Come, dear," he said softly. "You must."
"I'm jealous of her!" she sobbed.
"How could you be jealous of her, my darling?" he asked. "She's just a slip of a girl ... just nineteen. You're much more beautiful than she'll ever be."
"She pays attention to ... him. And he flirts with her!"
"Is he sleeping with her?" asked Chester.
"No," she moaned. "But if he was staying here, she'd be trying to sneak into his room every night."
"And why would that be so terrible?" asked Chester. He'd heard an unending litany from his wife about how she was not interested in anything other than playacting with this man he'd hired for her.
"I don't kinow!" she whined.
"You've come to like him," said Chester.
"I don't want to like him!" she wailed.
"But you do anyway," he said.
She rolled away from him.
"You did this to me!" she said. "Why would you do this to me? I love you!" She started crying again.
"I did it because I love you," he said, holding her again. "I told you all the reasons. I want you to have passion in your life ... to feel young and beautiful ... to have what I cannot give you." He stroked her back. "You should be looked at and lusted after by a man who can take you places I can never take you ... make you feel like I can never make you feel. You are most precious to me, my darling, and I want you to be vibrant, and alive ... fully a woman, while I can still see that, and know how happy you are."
It penetrated, at last. She finally allowed herself to admit it. Her husband ... dear sweet Chester ... didn't mind if she had sex with a younger man. Not any younger man, but a man he had chosen for her. Her intellect understood what he was saying ... appreciated it, even. Her emotions felt a sense of relief ... that what she kept feeling for Bobby was actually being allowed ... encouraged, in fact. Her resistance had been because she was sure it would hurt Chester. And yet, his insistence was that it would make him happy, not sad. She didn't understand that part. The jealousy she felt for Annie was something she just assumed any person would feel, in her situation. She assumed Chester would feel jealousy too. But his insistence was that her fulfillment was more important to him, and she finally believed him.
In a way, that was worse, because it also brought the self-admission that she was infatuated with Bobby. She didn't want to be, but she was. And that wouldn't change. She already knew him well enough to know she'd always like him ... always respect him for being the man he was. That meant that her defenses would be down.
And that meant that she would ... most likely ... allow things to happen that, two short weeks ago, she'd have fought against with all her strength.
Something broke inside Felicity Chumley, that night, as she lay in her husband's arms. "Broken" doesn't always mean that something bad has happened. A drought, when broken, is a good thing. When a fever breaks, it is a positive sign. And when Felicity's resistance to Bobby broke, she began to feel better almost immediately.
Not that she became a wanton hussy. Not by a long stretch. But she thought about things differently. Oddly, once she admitted she was infatuated with him, the attraction wasn't so powerful. She could look at him like a handsome, interesting man, and feel like exploring that interesting man wasn't so dangerous. She also realized that her jealousy for Annie was fading a bit.
In fact, in a somewhat bizarre twist, she thought of a way to let Annie help her.
It happened at lunch, when, once again, Annie blushed and complimented Bobby on how handsome he looked in the slacks and mauve shirt Felicity had picked out for him. Felicity thought he looked pretty good too.
"Annie!" she said suddenly, thinking about something she and Bobby might have to do during their play acting, and which she had resisted thinking about until now.
"Yes, Ma'am?" said Annie, realizing she'd done it again. She had recognized the unhappiness in her employer in the past, when she paid too much attention to Bobby, and had tried to control her crush."
"You are aware of why Bobby is here ... what we are preparing to do."
"Um .. yes Ma'am," said Annie, uncomfortably. It hadn't been discussed this openly before.
"I wonder if you'd help me ... with a little experiment." said Felicity.
"Of course, Ma'am," said the servant.
"It may be required that I ... kiss Bobby, at the reunion, at some point. Of course I don't want to do that frivolously ... such as now ... but I do need to have some idea of how to be prepared for that, should it be required."
"I don't understand, Ma'am," said the girl.
"I was just wondering if ... perhaps ... you would be willing to let him kiss ... you. Then you could tell me what it was like."
Bobby grinned, and Felicity wanted to shake him. How could he be so openly anxious to kiss the girl?! She realized she was jealous again, and pushed that away.
"Me?" squeaked Annie. "Kiss ... him?"
"You don't have to, of course," said Felicity.
"Oh, it's okay!" said the young woman, entirely too quickly for Felicity's taste. "I could do that!" said the girl. "For you," she added, almost as an afterthought.
Bobby wasted no time. He stood, swept a jittery Annie into his arms, and kissed her like he would kiss Felicity, if he ever got the chance.
He had to hold her up when it was done. She was as limp as a rag doll, and her head lolled to one side, her eyes unfocused, and her mouth open. Bobby carried her to his own chair, and sat her down, holding her, as she started to lean to one side.
Felicity jumped up.
"What on Earth did you do to her?" she asked, her voice tight.
"I just kissed her," said Bobby, grinning.
"She's practically unconscious!" said Felicity, bending over her servant.
"All I did was kiss her," said Bobby, whining like a five year old.
Felicity started slapping Annie's face gently.
"Annie? Honey? Are you all right?" she asked softly.
Annie's eyes cleared, and strength came back into her body quite suddenly. She jerked, and looked, first at her employer, and then, as her head turned, to Bobby.
"Wow!" she sighed.
"Thank you," said Bobby, almost primly.
Annie looked back at Felicity. "I might have to do that again. I can't remember too much about that one."
Felicity felt anger tighten in her chest, and then, the comedy of the situation rushed down on her. She was the one who had made the poor girl do this. And now she was unhappy about it. She had watched, as Bobby's lips had crushed the poor, innocent girl's, and his strong arms had crushed her body to his.
She giggled. Then she sat down. Annie had just done something she wanted desperately to do, but was too unsure of. Suddenly, Annie seemed like a girl friend, who had some knowledge that she wanted badly.
"Was it really good?" she asked, as if Bobby wasn't even there.
"Ohhhh, Ma'am," sighed Annie. "You don't want to do that, Ma'am."
"I don't?" asked Felicity.
"No Ma'am," said Annie firmly. "That's a very dangerous man."
"Thank you," said Bobby again.
"If he needs to be kissed, you must promise to call me," said Annie.
Then she giggled.
Both women started laughing, and Felicity apologized for making Annie do it, and Annie kept saying she didn't mind, until both of them were laughing so hard that they had to hold on to each other.
Bobby just stood behind them and grinned.
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