The Making of a Gigolo (8) - Felicity Chumley
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There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere around the Chumley manor, after Felicity watched Bobby kiss Annie. It wasn't a huge shift, but it made all the difference in the world.
Felicity began to let Bobby flirt with her.
More than that, she flirted back with him too.
Bobby touched her more. Now, in addition to touching her hand or elbow, he put his hand in the middle of her back, and it often stroked her briefly, there. Their dancing became more fluid, as she quit trying to keep her body away from his, and allowed the sensations to create in her the kind of excitement that has made dancing a passion-filled thing for millennia.
She didn't kiss him ... not even on the cheek. But she knew she would, some day, kiss him. That anticipation made her more passionate in bed, with Chester, and he noticed it. Now, when she took his flaccid penis into her mouth, and worked it until he had an orgasm, she did so with a gusto that had been previously lacking. Not that she hadn't enjoyed sucking him. She just enjoyed it more now.
His joints caused him trouble when he had to get on his hands and knees, to service his wife in the same manner. It was worth it to him, because her taste was delicious to his aged tongue, and her moans of happiness and completion were music to his ears. But they hadn't done it often, because it caused him pain. Now, she got over him and carefully lowered her pussy to his lips, as he lay comfortably. She held her weight on her knees and with her arms, as she rubbed, and he licked, and she felt deliciously ecstatic at the orgasms he produced.
At one point, when they lay in each other's arms, Chester told her he'd noticed her increase in sensuality.
"Has he made love to you?" he asked.
"No," she blushed. "I haven't even kissed him yet." She wiggled against his thigh, pushing her slippery pussy against his bony knee. "I told Annie to kiss him, and seeing what that did to her ... I just got scared."
"Has he bedded her yet?" asked the old man.
"Of course not," she said. "He spends all his time with me."
"What will you do when this is all finished?" he asked.
"It will just be over ... won't it?" she asked, her eyes widening.
"I suppose that's up to you ... and Annie," he said.
"You're so strange," she commented. "Most men would be jealous."
"How can I possibly be jealous, when my wife comes to me insane with passion?" he smiled. "You've become an even better lover, my dear."
"Because I love you," she said, kissing his shoulder.
"True," he mused. "But also because he excites you. I get the benefit of that excitement."
"That's why I don't let him touch me," she said, satisfaction in her voice. "I want you to satisfy me."
"You're this passionate when he hasn't even touched you," pointed out Chester. "How much more passionate would you be if he did?"
She pushed her pussy hard against his knee, feeling an orgasm possible. She kept rubbing, telling him to just lie still, and let her use his body. As the orgasm seeped through her belly, she admitted to herself that she'd been wondering the same thing.
Two things threatened to undo all the work they'd gone to, to prepare for the fiction they were going to foist on Felicity's old friends.
The first was that Mirriam began having contractions. Bobby was home, at the time, and took her to the hospital. But the doctor said they were false contractions, and sent her home. Bobby was worried that she'd go into labor while he was in Kansas City. He was due to spend the night before they left sleeping in his guest room at the manor, and he was loath to leave, if she was so close to delivery.
Ted, having been notified by Prudence, who was notified by one of the girls when Bobby took his mother to the hospital, arrived at the house, having gone to the hospital first. He knew that Bobby had a trip of some kind planned, though not what it was about. He assured Bobby that he'd spend the weekend at the farm with Mirriam, taking care of her. With Flo, Linda and Suzie, not to mention the twins, who were now fifteen, helping him, he convinced Bobby that she'd be well taken care of in his absence.
The second issue happened at the manor, on the Thursday night before he and Felicity were due to leave for the reunion. He'd spent a few hours with both Felicity and Chester in the library, just chatting, like old friends. Felicity had sat with her husband, holding his hand.
Later, while he lay in a strange bed, reading himself to sleep, there was a tap on his door. He was in his jockey shorts, and he thought it must be Felicity, with some last minute instruction. He decided to tease her by answering the door in just his underwear.
It was Annie, instead.
"Is there anything else you ... Oh my!" she yipped, her eyes slithering all over his mostly naked form.
"Oh," he said. "It's you. I'm sorry. I thought you were Felicity."
"Do you often meet her like ... this?" asked the girl, her voice dreamy.
"No." He grinned. "I was going to tease her, to be honest with you."
"Well, you're teasing me instead," she breathed.
"I didn't mean to," he said, recognizing a woman in heat. "But Iíd be happy to tease you a little, if you want me to."
"How would you do that?" she asked, her eyes bright.
"I'd kiss you, and feel those luscious breasts you have," he teased.
"You would?" Her voice was back to dreamy.
"Don't you have a boyfriend?" asked Bobby.
"I did, but he went off to college, when we graduated. He has a new girlfriend now." She didn't seem all that upset by that.
"Do you need a kiss, Annie?" he asked softly.
"Uh huh," she sighed.
"Are you a virgin, Annie?" he asked.
She blinked, and then flushed bright red. "No," she said, her voice small.
"If you let me kiss you, I'm going to want to do some other things too," he said, smiling.
She looked down, and he almost laughed. He knew he was already hard ... had felt it happening to him, at the thought of playing with this sweet girl.
"I can see that." Her voice was husky.
Felicity found them in a torrid embrace, Bobby kissing Annie again. They were standing in his open door, and his hands were on Annie's butt. She was wearing her uniform.
"Ahem," said Felicity.
Annie, to her credit, tried to escape his embrace. He wouldn't let her.
"Yes?" said Bobby, holding the girl tightly, his hands still on her butt.
"You need to get some sleep," said Felicity, feeling the heat of jealousy and desire, at the same time.
"I need to relax," said Bobby. "So does Annie. She's very tense right now."
Annie had stopped trying to get loose, and buried her face in his naked chest.
"Annie will have to find some other way to relax," said Felicity firmly.
"And me?" asked Bobby. "Are you going to help me relax?"
Whereas, two weeks ago, she would have exploded, and said something like "Certainly not!", by now, she was more honest with herself.
"Tempting," she said, regally, "but no. I just came to tell you to wear the apricot shirt, with the chocolate slacks, tomorrow morning."
"All right," he said, his hands finally leaving the girl's buttocks, to slide up her back. "Is that all?"
"Yes," she said, feeling lost and lonely.
"Okay, then," he said. "I'll see you in the morning."
He pulled Annie into the room, and closed the door.
"We can't!" came Annie's dim yelp, through the door.
Then it was quiet.
Felicity stood there for long minutes, straining to hear anything else through the door. She thought about knocking, and demanding that Annie go back to her duties. She glanced at her watch. Annie had, technically, been off duty for over an hour. She had come here, still in her uniform and, Felicity admitted to herself, most likely just to see if he needed anything.
Obviously, he did need something ... something that Annie was willing to give him.
A moan broke into her thoughts, and she wasn't sure she had actually heard anything. Blushing at her own lack of control, she pressed her ear to the door.
"Ohhhhh, yesss," came a feminine moan, so faint it was barely there.
Felicity deluded herself into hearing bed springs squeaking, and then remembered, to her shame, that bed springs didn't squeak in this house. When you spent that much on a bed, it just didn't squeak.
She jerked her hand off the door knob, and couldn't believe she had turned it half way.
"Ohhhh Bobby," came a passion-filled female voice, through the door.
Feeling like she was going to explode, Felicity went to her bedroom. Chester was already asleep, lying peacefully in their bed. She ached with need, but wouldn't wake him. She knew it would require too much from him to satisfy her.
She went to the kitchen instead, and turned on the light. Her hands pulled the ingredients from the shelves without conscious thought, as she started to make a batch of cookies. She had no gleam of knowledge that, miles away, there was another woman, the woman who had given birth to the man who tormented her, and that that woman too, had made cookies because of Bobby. Though miles apart, both socially and in linear distance, both women resorted to the same thing, from time to time, to soothe their angst.
She had taken the first pan out of the oven, and put the second pan in, when Annie burst into the kitchen. Her hair was mussed, and her cheeks were pink. The smile on her face told what a thousand words couldn't communicate.
"Oh!" she yipped. "I thought you were Ramona!"
Felicity looked at the girl. She was in her uniform ... again. That caused a cramp of desire in Felicity's loins. In her hurry, she had buttoned the tunic improperly. Her bra was in her hand, hanging, almost touching the floor.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am," moaned the girl, mortified. She had been about to share her joy with the cook, and now, she knew she was a few words from being jobless. "I couldn't help myself."
The strength in Felicity that she had always depended on ... which had carried her though those first awful days at the company, and then the months that followed ... deserted her at that moment. Her eyes fell on the pan of cookies she had removed from the oven, and she picked up a cookie, changing it from hand to hand, because it was still too hot to hold. She knew the sugar in it would give her strength, though, and she bit into it.
"Please, Ma'am," pleaded Annie. "I promise it will never happen again!"
Felicity picked up another cookie, and walked around the counter, extending it to the girl. She could smell the sex on her, even over the odor of the cookies.
"I know," said Felicity, her voice dull.
Annie took the cookie, looking at it in confusion. Her eyes went to her employer, and she saw sadness in the eyes she looked into.
"Are you all right?" Annie asked.
"Not really," said Felicity. She took another bite of her cookie, and then stuffed the whole thing into her mouth, chewing vigorously.
"Honest, Ma'am," said Annie. "I won't let him do that again."
"Yes you will," said Felicity, her voice hollow. "But it's all right. You're not fired."
The girl rushed to hug her, something none of the staff had ever done in the four years she'd been their new mistress.
"Thank you!" moaned the girl, pressing her face into Felicity's chest. "I'm so sorry."
The odor about the girl ... the odor of lovemaking ... was impossible to ignore. She was trembling. Felicity patted her back, until the maid backed away. She wiped at her eyes.
"Eat your cookie," said Felicity, turning to go get another for herself.
Standing there, she took a bite, and looked at Annie.
"Did he make you happy?" she asked, almost timidly.
The girl struggled, visibly, but then straightened her shoulders.
"Yes, Ma'am," she admitted. Her understatement was obvious in the flush that appeared on her face.
"Go on to bed," said Felicity.
She leaned down to take the other pan out of the oven, even though the cookies weren't done yet. She put it on top of the stove, and turned the oven off. Annie had scurried out of the kitchen, fleeing to her own room, at one end of the manor.
Felicity stood in the kitchen, looking around. She'd have to apologize to Ramona in the morning for leaving a mess. Leaden feet took her toward her bedroom, where her husband lay sleeping. She was both un-surprised, and resigned, when those feet turned, and went down the wrong hallway, to the wrong room, where her hand reached out and turned the wrong knob.
He was lying, naked on his bed, reading a book. He looked up as she came into the room and closed the door gently behind her.
"I was hoping you'd come," he said.
When she would have time to think about it later, Felicity Chumley would realize that, when she went to Bobby's room, he gave her only enough ... and not too much. She would not realize that until she crept into bed with her husband, trying not to wake him, because she did not want to answer his questions that night. She would think about that, as she drifted off to sleep. And, when she realized that, she would, at last, be fully at peace with what her husband had done ... what he had set her up to do. She would fall asleep peacefully, for once, no longer tormented by thoughts of a man other than the one she was lying beside, and which she would continue to lie beside until he joined his departed first wife.
It would make more difference to her than anything else that had happened, in the days to come.
What happened, after Bobby said he hoped she'd come, was both tumultuous, and gentle, in a strange way. He had somehow known that she would stand there, unable to take her clothing off, herself. His fingers had been soothing, rather than rushed, as he unbuttoned buttons, and slid her garments off. That he left them lay, in puddles on the floor, she was not aware of. She felt the air caress her skin, as it was slowly bared. She felt the tension ease, as her bra was unclipped. While his fingers did that, she stared into those blue eyes, willing herself to close hers, but unable to do so. He seemed not to need his eyes to find the front catch on her bra. Something in her was surprised when, instead of looking at her breasts, or touching them, he continued to search inside her, through her own eyes, and his fingers felt feather light as he pushed the bra back by the straps. She felt it slide down her arms, which moved back, by themselves, and catch on her wrists, which flipped, by habit, to let the bra drop.
His face disappeared from in front of her as he knelt and slid her panties down. What she was thinking, at that moment, was that another woman had just left this room. She could still smell the odors of arousal, and sex. She felt some amazement that this man could take care of one woman, and then, almost immediately, by comparison to Chester, be ready for another.
Then his hot breath on her mons shredded all thought, and a light kiss from his lips, between her mons and her navel made her knees weak.
She went, unresisting to the bed, which was still warm from the heat of another woman, and lay as he climbed in beside her.
Now she stiffened, and her body rebelled. She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling ... waiting ... waiting to be violated by a stranger.
He did not climb on top of her and ravish her. Part of her mind screamed "What are you waiting for!?"
Instead, his fingertips traced the shoulder nearest him, and he whispered to her. He whispered that she was brave, and strong. She felt neither brave nor strong. He kissed her shoulder, and whispered that he would not hurt her. She turned her face at that, and his eyes were pools she knew she'd drown in.
"You don't need to be afraid of me," he said, his fingers moving to her upper chest. "You'll never need to be afraid of me," he said softly.
She watched as he kissed her shoulder again, and then lifted her hand to kiss the backs of her fingertips. Laying her hand on her abdomen, he reached to brush back her hair from her face.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured. "You're like a young filly, so full of energy, so sleek. You fear the trainer, but crave his touch."
She felt like that ... yes. She felt relaxation seep into her body as she realized he understood.
"You're not ready to be ridden," he whispered. "You could be broken, but that would break your beautiful spirit, and we can't have that."
He moved up, and she felt something warm slide along the top of her thigh. Her hand moved, and she sucked in breath as it landed on his manhood. She couldn't see it with her eyes, but her hand and fingers told her it was long, impossibly hard, and thick. She wanted to take her fingers away, but they were somehow glued to this frightening thing. They squeezed, testing, and found only strength and virility.
His face was suddenly next to and over hers. His eyes were right in front of hers, which meant his lips were right in front of hers. His first kiss was feather light, merely a touching of flesh to flesh. His second was with infinitesimally more pressure. He moved his lips, and the third kiss was harder still, enough to make her lips move. His breath smelled sweet, like chocolate, and she remembered the candy dish she'd ordered to be placed in his room. Annie had brought that candy dish.
She remembered the moans Annie had made, audible through the thick oak door, and something broke inside her. Almost violently she rolled, to meet his next kiss full on, returning it with passion that shocked her. She wanted to consume him ... take him in, somehow, until he was inside her body, where he would touch her at all times.
She found herself writhing against him, her breasts pressed to his chest. His penis had gone between her legs, and was pressing against her sex. She ached with need.
Now his hand found her breasts, and she arched into them, eager to feel strong hands on her aching nipples. She couldn't kiss him enough, and kept snatching breaths, so she could get her lips back on his.
Quite suddenly, she felt his hand between her legs, and one of his fingers slipped inside her. This was something Chester did regularly, but it felt different somehow. His hand wiggled in an odd way, and an orgasm came from nowhere to almost destroy her as it raged through her body. She couldn't kiss him any more, because her lips were stretched in a grimace of delight and sudden fear that she would die from this one orgasm.
He continued to probe with his finger, and his mouth found her stiff nipples, sucking until she screamed hoarsely, as another orgasm followed on the heels of the first.
Then, suddenly, she was wrapped in his arms again. They felt like steel, but gentle at the same time as he squeezed her to him and kissed her eyes and nose. His hands traced over her back and buttocks. She felt the tip of his penis pressing her sex, where his finger no longer was. She knew that, with just a little hunch of her abs, she could get it in her. He wasn't pushing, though, and she couldn't make herself complete the act. Again, she waited to be violated.
The pressure vanished as he rolled away from her, and she felt cool air make her almost shiver.
"You should go to bed now," he said.
"What?" It was the first word she'd said since she entered the room.
"We have to get up in the morning. We want to stay fresh all day, and be relaxed, but not tired, when we get there."
"But you havenít ..." Her voice failed her. The strength he'd whispered to her about surged in her. "You're not going to ...?" It failed her as quickly as it had appeared.
"You're not ready for that," he said softly.
He rolled to kiss her nose again ... like she was some little girl!
Rejection stabbed into her brain. He was ready! He was long and hard for her! But he didn't want her! Rage exploded in her mind, and she jerked away from him, rolling with her strength back, to stand, staring down at the erection he refused to let her have. It was magnificent, lying on his belly ... but she couldn't have it.
Bending to snatch up her clothing, she ran, naked from the room, fleeing the man who had hurt her so much. She had come to him! And he had rejected her. He had taken her maid ... had made her happy, but rejected the mistress. Her rage was so hot that she didn't cry. The hurt was too deep.
She stopped at her bedroom door, hearing her breath rasping from her mouth, and summoned calm, before going in to her sleeping husband. Deep breaths eased the rage. She began to reflect on what had happened.
As she opened the door, stepping quietly inside, she remembered his last words: "You're not ready for that."
Then, as she crawled into bed with the man who loved her, and who she loved with all her heart, she thought some more.
Flo sat and looked at Ted, sitting in the easy chair in the living room. He was so sweet to her mother. Mamma was miserable, and he spent every waking hour with her, soothing her, pushing his fist into her back, talking to her, bringing her tidbits to eat, and sips of various liquids. She snarled at him ... snapped at everyone, really ... and Flo wondered how in the world she'd gotten through eight births before this.
Ted had his eyes closed now. They'd been talking. It wasn't about anything important, or urgent ... just talk. She liked him. Something about him seemed to call to her. She looked at his hands. They were so different than Bobby's. Bobby's were hard, with thick skin on them from all the work he did with them. Ted's were soft. His fingers looked long and slender. She wondered what they'd feel like, if he touched her like Bobby touched her.
She shook her head in annoyance. She'd been having more and more of those thoughts about Ted. Ted was her mother's man. They all knew that. Well, except when he was Prudence's man. How that worked, she had no idea, but it did.
She got up, to go tidy up the kitchen. She must have made some noise, because, as she dipped her hands into the hot dish water, he was suddenly there, behind her, his arm reaching around her with another plate he'd found from somewhere. She felt his breath on her neck.
She was used to being able to talk to Bobby about anything, especially about how she felt about him. She felt a sudden yearning to be able to talk to Ted that way too.
"You look stiff," he said, from behind her. "Are all the women in this family stiff?"
He meant it as a joke, and his hands on her shoulders, rubbing, were meant only to ease her tension ... not feel so wonderful and intimate. Bobby had been spending all his time at some mysterious job, across town. And twice now she'd gone to him late at night, only to find Linda, doing with him what she wanted to do with him. Both times they hadn't seen her. She'd felt jealousy, which she knew was stupid. Mary had done that with him, and Bev probably had too. Goodness knows she'd felt him thrusting inside her own famished pussy enough times. If Mamma hadn't put her on the pill, she was sure she'd have had two or three babies by now. Well, maybe not two or three, but she'd have been good and knocked up. It was a little surprising that hadn't happened anyway, seeing as how she could never remember to swallow the little pill each day. And, when she did remember to, it wasn't the same time of day, like the instructions said to do.
The hands on her shoulders felt so good. She needed hands on her breasts too. Without thinking, she reached for the hands on her shoulders, and pulled them to her breasts. There. She sighed. That was better.
It was his intake of air - a gasp - that made her realize what she'd just done. Her hands, wet and sudsy, were over his, on top of them, pressing them to her breasts. She was mortified ... more ashamed than at any other time in her whole life.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. Her shoulders shook as his hands slowly slid off her breasts. She couldn't turn to face him. She wanted only to run away. She tried to do that, sliding to the side, blinded by tears.
"Hey," he sighed. His hand caught her elbow and she tried to jerk it away, but he was suddenly much stronger than she would have thought.
Then she was somehow in his arms, bawling, getting his shirt wet, as his arms went around her.
"Don't cry," he said, his hands smoothing along her back. "It's all right."
"No it's not," she moaned. "I thought you were ... I don't know why I did that."
"Everybody is a little on edge," he said into her ear. "It makes us all do strange things."
She looked up at him and was shocked to her core as his lips descended on hers in a gentle, sweet kiss that made her want many more just like it.
"Like that," he said, pulling away from her, his voice shaky.
"But we can't do that," she moaned. "You belong to Mamma!"
"Let's not worry about that now," he said, backing up a little, but keeping his hands on her elbows. "We're both tired. Leave this for tomorrow. We both need to sleep, while she's sleeping."
"Okay" she said, her voice young. She felt hugely relieved that he hadn't fulfilled her wish ... to be kissed again.
In her bedroom, ten minutes later, she rubbed furiously, seeking relief from the feelings that lingered from his touch and kiss.
On the couch, in the living room, Ted whipped his hand along his erection frantically, seeking the same relief.
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