The Making of a Gigolo (9) - Amanda Griggs

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Chapter Ten

She had caught her breath, finally, after an orgasm that had left her weak and helpless. Only a small part of that was because she had strained against the ropes as she came hard. She was relaxing, as his hands moved all over her body, stroking her gently. The most amazing thing of it all was that though she was still tied, she no longer felt restrained, really. The ropes were now just something to hang on to as he took her on this wild ride.

"You want to be on top?" he asked softly.

"Can I?" she gasped.

"Yes," he said.

Her hands slipped out of the ropes and he helped with her feet. She got on her hands and knees as he scooted under her. Almost frantically, she squatted, and sank down on him. Immediately she leaned forward, dangling a pear shaped breast in his face, and her hips went crazy, moving her clit against the base of his prick.

She couldn't get enough, moving unceasingly through four orgasms, moaning and crying and kissing him, mashing her breasts in his face, and demanding that he suck them, only to jerk them out of his mouth as she raced through another orgasm. She felt like she was rubbing her clit raw, but couldn't stop, until finally she ran out of energy and fell onto his chest, gasping weakly for air.

"I don't believe this," she panted. "This can't be real."

"It's very real," he said, into her hair, stroking her back.

"All that time," she panted. "And you didn't cum once."

"You don't want to get pregnant," he reminded her.

She raised up, putting her forearms on his chest, and looking down into his blue eyes.

"Why do I want to feel you cum in me, then?" she asked.

"Do you?"

"Yes!" she moaned. "It feels so good and warm when you do that."

"When was your last period?" he asked.

"I finished up just before I met you," she said.

"It's probably safe," he said.

"But what if it's not?" she moaned.

"Then you'll have my baby," he said.

"You drenched me last night," she whined.

"You might already be pregnant," he whispered.

She sat up. He was still hard ... still deep inside her. She looked down at her flat belly, and her hands went to rub. The residual gel there heated up instantly, and she felt the ball of heat sink into her again, bathing her womb with heat. She tried to imagine a baby in there, being warmed by her hands. It was too bizarre. She closed her eyes, filled with hot prick, and rubbed more. She brought her hands up to her breasts and rubbed them. Heat exploded in them too, like they were full of hot milk, for a baby. She felt that strange urgency in her belly again, like when he had said he wanted to spurt in her pussy.

She looked down at the man who had turned her whole world upside down. Her mind coalesced into an understanding of this man that most women wouldn't have been able to rationalize.

"Do you want to get me pregnant?" she asked, her voice steady.

"You don't want to get pregnant," he responded.

"But do you want to get me that way?" she asked, leaning forward, her eyes inches from his.

"Yes," he whispered.

Her belly did flip-flops, and there was a burning in her breasts that wasn't due to the lotion.

"You've done this before ... haven't you?" she said, her voice still steady. "You've gotten other women pregnant ... haven't you?"

"Yes," he whispered again.

Her pussy squeezed his prick, all by itself. She could no more have stopped it than she could have stopped her heart beating.

"How many?" she asked.

"Does it matter?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, her voice firm.

"Many," he said softly.

"Many," she repeated. "More than two?"

He smiled.

"More than five?" His smile didn't waver.

"More than ten?" her voice went up and her pussy clenched again.

"There are more than ten babies," he said, softly. He decided that splitting hairs about born and yet-to-be born children wasn't necessary.

She felt a weakness flow through her, but had to ask the next question.

"Some women have had more than one of your babies?"

He nodded.

She sat back up and felt the prick that had made more than ten babies, fully penetrating her pussy. It clenched, yet again.

"Mandy, honey," he said. "If you don't want to have a baby, that's fine."

"I know that," she said. "Be quiet. I'm thinking."

What she was thinking about was that she had a good job, that was going to get better, if her father's plan worked out. She knew the staff would love it. She would be busy. She thought of the men she had seen in the past ... the pool of men she might have to choose from, if she wanted to get married and start a family. That pool was, in her opinion, shallow and stagnant. She knew that somebody could come along, out of the blue, like Bobby had ... but that could not be counted on. She tried to imagine what it would be like to enter the dating game ... the time that would take ... the false starts, and disappointments she'd likely face. She was thinking about her father, and how she had no idea how long he had left. Could he wait, while she tried to find a mate, and make him a grandfather? Did she even want a mate? The thought of that was foreign. At the same time, the thought of her father as a grandfather was as natural as it could be.

She looked down at Bobby. He was gorgeous. He was smart. If she were looking for a mate, she'd want someone like him. She closed her eyes and remembered last night, when he had flooded her with his warmth ... his seed. He had known she was unprotected ... that he might be breeding her ... like he had bred other women. Ten babies! More than ten babies! She felt the urgency in her loins, and recognized it for what it was. Her loins wanted her to fulfill her destiny as a woman ... to take a man's seed, and procreate with it.

With her eyes still closed, she rubbed her belly again, and again felt the heat sink into her insides. This time she imagined a tiny little Bobby in there, with a tiny little forelock. He was smiling, looking at her with blue eyes, saying, "Thank you, Mommy, that makes me feel warm!"

She giggled. It was insane! She must be crazy! She giggled some more, and felt her pussy muscles clenching his prick.

She opened her eyes and looked down at him. He looked so peaceful, lying there. She leaned over to kiss him, and felt a zing in her clit. Suddenly she was rubbing furiously, reaching for another orgasm, that was almost instantly within reach. She panted into his mouth, licking his lips, sucking at his tongue. Ahhhhhh ... there it was ... another delightful orgasm, courtesy of Bobby Dalton, the man she had hired to fuck her. As soon as she was done, she rolled off and splayed herself open.

"Fuck me, Bobby Dalton," she panted. "I hired you to fuck me. Now, get to work!"

She laughed as he rolled, his urgency clear. He was an animal, slamming into her and rutting, bouncing her as she kept laughing. She taunted him.

"Are you going to cum in my pussy, Bobby?" she laughed. "Are you going to make a baby in me? I'm not going on the pill, Bobby. I'll never go on the pill. Fuck me, Bobby! Fuck me all night long! Cum in me as much as you want!"

He stiffened, and pushed hard ... so hard that she slid up the bed and her head hit the headboard. Then she felt heat of a different kind, from the inside out, this time, and that strange urgency in her belly yipped, like a wild Indian, in time with the pulsing spurts of his seed as he powered it into her womb.

Sixty miles away, while Paul Engle's parents were playing bridge at another house, Paul and Linda Dalton were lying on the couch in Paul's living room. Paul was now used to the fact that Linda was his girlfriend. He was also used to what Linda was doing to him as her warm mouth covered and sucked his adolescent penis. He was also used to making her feel good the same way, as he lapped and sucked at the wet folds of her vulva, until she shuddered and told him she was cumming.

The new part of this was that they were naked ... completely naked ... gloriously without clothing, and were engaged, for the first time, in what was commonly called sixty-nining. They had never had the chance to take off all their clothes. When they went on dates, Linda wore dresses, or skirts, if she planned on getting her pussy licked.

There were two problems with this not-so-innocent scenario, at least from the viewpoint of a concerned parent. The first was that Paul, was finally able to view himself as a virile male of the species, who had attracted an eminently beautiful and interested mate. His former insecurity and disbelief were gone, and he was finally able to react like a male. The second was that Linda was used to having a man fuck her socks off, when she was completely naked with him.

For those two reasons, when Paul suddenly reversed his orientation to Linda, and she spread her legs for him, he suddenly had the urge to find out what her pussy felt like, wrapped around his teenaged prick. And, since this was what Linda had been slowly manipulating him toward, she was only too glad when the blunt tip of Paul's penis began to force entry into her pussy.

No words were spoken as his penis went deeper and deeper, slowly and tentatively, almost like someone walking through a house in the dark ... feeling his way ... worried about running into some obstruction. Linda's sigh of completion, finally feeling the penis of the boy she loved, deep inside her, was all that was needed for Paul to realize that she wasn't going to stop him, or complain. He was pretty stupid, for being a genius. Men are that way sometimes. If he'd have stopped to think, rationally and logically, he'd have realized that this was the very first time that he had taken a sexual step with Linda on his own. Every other thing they'd ever done had been at her suggestion.

But he didn't think about that, as he bottomed out in hot, clasping pussy, for the first time in his life. In fact, he didn't think about much anything. He merely reacted. His body, on heightened alert anyway, was assisted by his emotional state, which was, to tell the truth, spastic in the extreme. He made two strokes, and blasted his lover full of potent teenaged spunk.

Being a genius, Paul was relatively sure that it was supposed to last longer than that.

"I'm sorry," he groaned, both disillusioned with his first foray into complete sex, and, at the same time, elated beyond measure that he was now a real man.

"It's okay," murmured his lover. "You can go again in a few minutes."

Again, had the genius stopped to think about it, he might have wondered how she knew that ... or why she was so patient with him. He might have suspected that it was on the edge of possibility that she had done this before. In truth, he had thought that in the past, as she taught him to kiss, and seemed to be awfully accomplished at sucking him dry with her warm mouth. But Paul was the kind of guy who would never even begin to think that the woman who had just given him the precious gift of her virginity, could be anything less than ... a virgin.

What her calm, whispered encouragement resulted in, was the final connection between the synapses in Paul's body that, in turn, resulted in him coming to the decision that he must never let this woman leave him, in any way, shape or form ... that he must find a way to get her to marry him ... that she would have his children some day.

Paul Engle was in love.

Like most men, he was finishing a race, weak and panting, while the woman involved had already finished, showered, done her hair, and was waving a sign of welcome as he staggered across the finish line.

Perhaps it was because he was weak, staggering and panting, that he reacted to the last connection of the synapses in his body in the way he did.

"You have to marry me, Linda," he gasped.

"I thought you'd never ask," said the beautifully coifed woman, holding the welcome sign, at the finish line.

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