The Making of a Gigolo (9) - Amanda Griggs

by Lubrican

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

Chapter Twelve

In the morning, Bobby got up and got dressed with her. He helped her get her father up, acting like it was the most normal thing in the world for him to be there, early on a Saturday morning. Ron seemed relaxed, and if Bobby's presence bothered him, it didn't show. They used a hospital bottle, a sort of portable bed pan, to relieve Ron's bladder. Other elimination needs could be done, with his help, by moving him to the bathroom in his chair, and then transferring him to the toilet.

Once that was done, Amanda started to bang around in the kitchen, throwing together breakfast, and Bobby sat down with Ron at the dining room table again. The bean bags were already there, and Ron reached for them, obviously wanting to talk.

"Okay," said Bobby. "What shall we talk about? The radio station?"

Red bag.

"The weather?" Bobby joked.

Red bag.

"Your daughter?"

Green bag.

"And me?"

Green bag.

"Has Amanda told you anything?"

Red bag.

"Well, you may be handicapped by your condition," said Bobby, "but there's nothing wrong with your mind, and you probably know I spent the night."

Green bag.

"Does that bother you?" asked Bobby.

Ron's hand went toward the green bag first, and then dragged slowly back to the red one, which he covered with his hand.

"I think I'd feel the same way if she were my daughter," said Bobby. "All I can tell you is that I have only done what she asked me to do. I know that sounds strange, but it's true. My concern is for her needs. Can you understand that?"

Green bag.

"Do you want to know if I love her?" asked Bobby.

Again, Ron's hand drifted toward the green bag first, and then reversed and landed on the red bag.

"Do you want to know if she loves me?"

Green bag.

"Well, then," said Bobby, smiling. "We'll just ask her when she gets here with breakfast."

Changing the subject, Bobby began asking him questions about his first car. There was surprise in Ron's eyes, but, by judicious application of the rules of the game sometimes called twenty-questions, Bobby learned that Ron's first car was a 1938 Chevrolet coupe. It was black, and had a six cylinder motor in it. That was as far as they got before Amanda came in with plates of eggs, bacon and cereal. She went back for milk and juice. Plates, utensils and glasses came out of the china cabinet in the dining room

"So," she said, sitting down. "What have you guys been talking about?"

"You, actually," said Bobby. "And me."

She had been reaching for the plate of eggs, and her hand stopped in mid air.

"Your father would like to know if you love me."

She took her hand back, looking everywhere except at her father.

"I know I should have talked to you before this," she said. "but I couldn't figure out how to say anything." She finally looked at him. "Are you mad at me?"

His hand thumped down hard on the red bean bag.

She glanced at Bobby, and then back at her father. "It's hard to explain," she said softly. "Bobby makes me feel good. I love being with him. He's so different than any other man I've ever met. I do love him ... in a way ... but it's kind of like puppy love, I think." She looked guardedly at her father. "Does that make sense?"

Green bag. There was no hesitation.

"I missed so much ... going to work at the station," she said. Ron hooted and she went on. "I'm not mad about it, Daddy. I wanted to work there ... to work with you. I'm not sorry either ... but I missed things. I don't know how to be with a man ... a man I don't know. I do want to get married some day, but this isn't the right time, and Bobby isn't the right man. I don't even know how to look for the right man, Daddy."

Ron hooted and his hand waved at Bobby.

"I like him, Daddy," moaned Amanda. "But he's not the right man. I love being with him, but something inside me tells me he's not the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. I'm sorry." She looked like she was about to cry.

Ron's hand slammed down on the red bag, and then he waved at Bobby again.

"Are you saying that I might help her learn how to find the right man?" asked Bobby.

Ron hooted and his hand crushed the green bag.

Amanda's relieved grin split her face. "Yes!" she yipped. "I don't mind that. Bobby can help me that way. I know he can."

It was quiet for a while. Amanda knew that progress had been made, but she had to ask one more question.

"Daddy?" she asked. "Can Bobby keep coming to see me ... here ... at night?"

Ron's hand stayed dead in-between the two bags, not moving, not trembling, as if he somehow had complete control over it again. Then it lifted and landed softly on the green bag.

There was some boo-hooing, and Amanda kissed the poor man so many times that he finally pushed his hand against her, hooting in a different manner. His eyes were dancing, though. The rest of breakfast was pleasant, and almost normal, with the exception that Amanda had to feed her father.

What happened after breakfast, though, went far beyond what most folks would consider "normal". Had Bobby stayed, it might not have happened, but he had things to do and, after breakfast, went on his way.

It came about innocently enough, when Amanda asked her father if he was ready for his sponge bath. He was usually bathed by the home help worker every other day, but Amanda wanted him to be comfortable on the weekend, so she sometimes bathed him. Now that she could communicate with him, though, she asked first. With the bags she determined that he did want a bath so she pushed him to his room.

Getting him in bed wasn't as hard as she had thought it would be. He could stand on his good leg, though his bad one dragged. Pulling him up, she had him hold her shoulder with his good hand, while she pushed the robe off of his shoulders. It dropped as she steadied him, and she turned him, swiveling on his good foot. He fell backward with a hoot, and lay, with his lower legs hanging off the bed. She wrestled him up on the bed, until he was lying comfortably on his back.

That was when she noticed his erection.

"Daddy!" she said, her voice scolding. "You've got to stop doing that! You're embarrassing me!"

He hooted softly, which she took as an apology.

"I'll be right back with the water and sponge," she said.

She got that from the bathroom, and almost dropped it all as she returned, to see him obviously trying to grip his erect penis. She stopped, in the open doorway and watched. He finally caught it, and she heard a soft moan escape his lips. The hand jerked, and flew off. His penis flopped down onto his pubic hair.

She backed up, feeling her face flush, and cleared her throat before walking back into the bedroom.

She pretended she hadn't seen what he'd done, but this was the first bath she'd given her father since Bobby had expanded her world so much. Stroking her father's skin, and hearing the soft sounds that she now recognized as pleasure, coming from his lips, she felt a different kind of compassion for her father than she ever had before. She knew he'd lost his job, due to the stroke. He'd lost the function in more than half his body. He'd lost the ability to speak. He'd lost his independence. Now she understood that he'd lost any possibility for sexual outlet too.

It seemed odd to think of him as a sexual being. That part was normal. Children rarely see their parents as sexual beings, even though the children themselves are the strongest evidence of that relationship. Now, though, because her own sexual life had blossomed so vibrantly, the compassion she felt for her father was able to include compassion for that part of his loss.

He had regained the ability to communicate, thanks to Bobby. It occurred to her that she might be able to help her father, like Bobby had helped her. She skipped his penis and balls, going on down to his legs first. Then, when everything else was done, she took his erection in her hand and swabbed it with the sponge.

"Close your eyes, Daddy," she said, softly. "Think about Mommy."

She gripped his penis, and stroked it, like she had stroked Bobby's.

The sounds he made were pitiful, and she was afraid she'd made a terrible mistake, but, when she looked, his eyes were tightly closed.

"Think of Mommy," she said again. "Mommy is going to help you ... through me."

Like Bobby, her father had a foreskin, and she knew how to do this. She watched the tip, looking for that clear little bubble of stuff that would tell her it was working. It came quickly, and his breathing doubled in speed. She remembered that, when Bobby wanted to cum ... inside her - she felt a thrill at that thought - he speeded up. So she went faster. His honking moan of completion warned her, and semen shot two or three inches up into the air as she kept stroking him. It fell straight down, to coat her thumb and forefinger, as well as the head of his cock, which began to soften rapidly in her hand.

As he gave a long sigh, that sounded decidedly happy and relieved, she cleaned him up with the sponge. She looked up at his face, and he was looking down at her. She didn't need the bean bags to know that he was grateful.

"I know it's wrong," she said softly. "But these are special circumstances. I'm more than willing to do this for you whenever you need it, because I love you."

His hand came up off the bed, and reached for her head. She dipped into it, and felt him slide his hand down the side of her hair. She kissed him on the lips, this time ... just a soft, quick kiss.

"That was from Mommy too," she said, blinking teary eyes.

She took the basin of water and sponge back to the bathroom and washed them both out. When she got back, his eyes were closed, and his breathing was regular and slow. She covered him with a blanket, and left the room. She didn't feel one bit of shame or guilt for what she'd done.

These were special circumstances.

They managed to pull the new format together with an ad campaign that had the centerpiece phrase of "At KDEF, we love you, and we're going to prove it on Valentines day."

Julie found four new sponsors who agreed to give sponsoring half hour segments of unbroken music a try, for a month. DJs announced that changes were being made, and that on Valentines Day, those changes would become apparent. Record companies were contacted, and provided music for the new format. When Valentines day came, and the six o'clock morning show took off after the news and weather, they waited ... anxiously ... watching the three phone lines that came into the station.

All three lit up within ninety seconds, as Roberta Flack sang "The First Time, Ever I Saw Your Face". Cindy, with a tremor in her voice answered the first line. Rodney picked up the second, and Amanda picked up the third.

They were kept busy for the next three hours, as Roberta Flack was followed by such selections as The Beach Boys, playing "In My Room"; Harold Melvin and the Bluenotes, performing "If You Don't Know Me By Now"; Rick Nelson, singing "Garden Party" and Dr. Hook, with his hit "Sylvia's Mother", Amanda didn't like Dr. Hook, because she said it was too sad. Then Elton John's "Crocodile Rock" came on and she joined Rodney and the others in dancing to it.

Notes were scribbled and piled into two piles - positive and negative. When the phone calls started to taper off enough that Cindy could handle them all, there were twenty-three notes in the combined negative piles and over four hundred positive comments about both the variety of the music being offered and the uninterrupted flow of that music.

Throughout March Amanda celebrated the positive response to the format change, both by listeners and advertisers, by calling Bobby to her bed, at least once a week. If she was having a dizzyingly happy day, she often followed that up by straining up against him as he stroked her happy pussy, and bathed it in his semen.

Julie began having trouble selecting advertisers, because, with the new format, they had less time to air commercials. That competition led to increased ad revenues as advertisers began upping the ante, to get their commercials on the KDEF airwaves. Competitors who began losing ratings shares to the newly revamped station stopped joking about "K-Deaf", and started paying attention to the idea of having all different kinds of segments in a daily broadcast, from a half hour of oldies, to a half hour of the emerging country rock. KDEF broke all the rules of radio, and the money and fans poured in.

There were bumps in the road, of course. Amanda's penchant to be in control raised it's ugly head from time to time but, once her employees had tasted success, when they thought she was being obstinate, they told her so.

They also figured out that the best way to calm Amanda down was for her to spend some time with Bobby. She never admitted to her sexual relationship with him, but they figured it out. Seemingly innocent comments told them things. An example was one day when she said: "Oh, I saw Bobby last night, and he said that our bumper stickers are showing up all over the place in Granger," caused Jerry to take Rodney aside and say, "If she's in this good a mood because she saw Bobby, we need to get them together more often."

In fact, a day long argument at the station about whether to hire one, or two more DJs, and eliminate the pre-recorded midnight to six program, caused Julie to call Bobby herself. Julie had calculated that they could bring in twenty percent more money, if they used a live DJ at night, and ran commercials. Amanda insisted that things were wonderful, and there had been no complaints.

When Bobby knocked on her door, later that night, for an unscheduled visit, Amanda was delighted.

"To what do I owe the honor of this?" she asked.

"You've been arguing with them at work," he said, his face calm.

"They called you?!" she moaned. Then her eyes lit up. "I've been bad ... haven't I?"

"I'm afraid you have," said Bobby, sadly.

"Ooooo goody," she said. She looked at the knapsack in his hand. "Come in," she said. "Let me just get Daddy ready for bed, and then you can ... deal with me." Her eyes were hot as she said it.

"Do you want help with Ron?"

"No," she said. "We have a little routine, now. I can do it by myself."

Their little "routine", as she called it, involved relaxing her father, before he went to sleep. They had found that he slept much better, and with fewer interruptions to his sleep, if he was ... relaxed.

It had been an almost inevitable progression. Once she had masturbated him, she had been almost eager to do it again. It was one way she could brighten his life. To that end, she didn't exactly tease him, but she gave up trying to be modest around him. If she left the door to the bathroom open, while she took a shower, he was usually sitting there, in the doorway, when she got out and dried off. She timed that to coincide with his bedtime, so that his inevitable erection could be ... relaxed.

Stroking him to completion did the job, but it required cleanup. The obvious solution, to her, was to take him in her mouth, when he ejaculated. Bobby had never cum in her mouth, always wanting to put his sperm in her belly, where it might find an egg to fertilize. She was a little nervous about both tasting semen, and about taking her own father's penis into her mouth. The tasting was done after she masturbated him, one night. She cleaned him up, but left some semen on her hand and, while she was in the bathroom rinsing the washcloth she had cleaned him with, she simply ran her tongue through the stuff, while she was close to a toilet.

She was pleasantly surprised that it wasn't icky at all.

The next morning, she had gone, naked, to awaken her father. He had become erect almost instantly, and she had said, "All this cleanup is a problem, Daddy. I hope you won't think badly of me for skipping that part." Then she had sucked him. He'd gone almost crazy, but it was obvious that it was satisfying for them both.

Now, as Bobby waited in the living room, she got her father into bed.

"Bobby's here to make me feel good," she said, stroking him slowly. "But you're my Daddy, and I need to take care of you first." She lowered her mouth to his cock, and he hooted softly, reaching to brush his unruly hand against her hair.

He bucked, and she sucked him dry. She ran her hand over his chest.

"I love you, Daddy," she said, smacking her lips.

She tucked him in and then went to get her own satisfaction.

Amanda found herself tied up again, but this time it was in a chair, with her wrists behind it, her butt on the edge of the seat, and her ankles in loops fastened to the back legs. She was almost obscenely exposed, this way. She felt so wet that she knew she was dripping on the edge of the uncomfortable wooden seat.

Bobby stood in front of her, still clothed, his arms folded.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, meekly.

"You need to be reminded," he said, "that your staff supports you, and only has your best interests at heart," he said.

"Yes," she agreed, "but they want me to spend money, Bobby!"

"Have you spent money changing the format of the station?"

"Too much!" she moaned.

"Is the station doing better?"

"Yes," she said meekly. That was true. Revenues were already up over four hundred percent.

"You argued with them about what songs to play," he reminded her.

"I don't like some of them!" she moaned.

"Are you doing this for you ... or your listeners?" he asked.

"All of us," she said, sticking out her lower lip, and pouting a little bit.

"I'm going to give you something to remind you of that," he said.

She watched, her breathing increasing, as he got into his knapsack. He brought out a two quart bowl, and left the room. When he came back, it was full of water that was steaming. He put the bowl on the floor, between her spread thighs. She saw him pull out a can of shaving cream next, and a straight razor, and she suddenly realized what he was going to do, just as he said it himself.

"I'm going to shave off your pussy hair, Amanda. Your pretty pussy will be as bare as a baby's butt when I'm done. Every morning, when you get up, it will remind you that your staff knows what they're doing. It will remind you not to argue with them, unless you have a good reason. Every time you touch yourself, and feel that bare skin, it will remind you that the station is doing fine, and that you should just enjoy that."

"You can't do that!" she panted. She gripped the loops holding her wrists tightly.

"Why not, Amanda?" he asked, dipping a washcloth into the hot water and putting it on her mons.

The heat almost, but not quite, burned her. It was exquisite, like the heat of the gel he had rubbed on her pussy lips in the past.

"It's so slutty!" she gasped.

"My mother shaves her pussy," said Bobby, calmly. "So do two of my sisters, and ... other women I know."

Amanda felt weak and flushed. He knew that his mother shaved her pussy! And two of his sisters! The only way he could know that was if he had seen them. Her mind thought back to her father, lying on the bed, writhing as she sucked him. She still tasted him on the inside of her mouth.

She was distracted from that thought by the sound of shaving cream squirting out. It felt impossibly cold, after the heat of the washcloth. He rubbed it all over her mons, not being careful. His fingers pushed the slippery stuff onto her clit and she arched her back, with a jerk.

"You have to sit still," he said. "I don't want to cut you."

"I can't," she panted. "Not if you touch me like that."

"Like this?" he teased, diddling her clitty with one cream-covered fingertip.

"Yes," she moaned.

"Sit still!" he ordered.

He waited, until she settled, and then flipped the razor open. She looked at the shiny blade with fascination. She used a safety razor to shave her father. This instrument looked so dangerous, in comparison. She watched, holding her breath, as he brought it against the skin above where her hair started. She could see it drag the skin, and feel the sharp edge, as it slicked down. Suddenly, she saw pale white skin, where there had always been curly brown hair.

He lifted the razor, to wipe it on a towel, and the air rushed out of her lungs. She saw her breasts rising and falling quickly.

"Sit still," he admonished her.

It went much more quickly than she would have dreamed it could. Her glossy brown hair, milky-white and cream-covered now, disappeared, to be wiped onto the towel. She could feel his breath on the newly shaven skin, which felt new and alive in a way she had never felt before.

Finally he seemed satisfied, and wiped her clean with the hot washcloth. He wasn't careful about that, either, rubbing her clit and split roughly.

"Ahhhh," she groaned, as the rough cloth scraped her sensitive clit.

She looked down to see something alien ... something so strange that she couldn't believe it was her own body. Her pussy lips were fat and thick, dark pink. Her inner lips protruded, making it look like some strange blossom was emerging from her body. Her sex looked like it had been put on display. As she watched, her lips peeled open, looking like a mouth, opening, to receive a tongue.

He stood and stripped, efficiently. She felt the familiar rush of emotion as she saw his straining prick, knowing that it was straining for her ... that he wanted her. And she wanted him too, desperately now.

He fell to his knees and buried his face in her split. Had she been able to push with her feet, the chair would have tipped over, so hard did she jerk. He gave her her first orgasm tied to the chair, and she thought she might pass out from the joy of it.

Then he untied her, whisked her to the bed, pushed her roughly on it, and mated with her.

"I can't believe you did that," she murmured as they lay, entwined in each other's arms. Her pussy felt warm and full, and she knew that was the feel of his semen inside her.

"It's not slutty," he said softly.

"I can't help thinking that," she sighed.

"They'd have shaved you anyway," he said.

"Who?" she asked.

"The doctors ... when you have my baby."

Within a frenzied minute and a half, she was riding him, her pussy muscles working on his prick, to suck more baby juice out of it.

There is more to Amanda's story, but you have the gist of it. Her type-A personality, once she found fulfillment in ways that did not involve having power over other people, morphed into something softer. Letting others help her, she was transformed into a relaxed and successful radio innovator. She went from being sexually frustrated, though she didn't know it at the time, to happily anticipating a love life, at least in the immediate future, that included Bobby and whatever Bobby's sperm and her body decided to accomplish together.

She was happier, her father was happier, her staff was happier, and the radio listeners of Hutchinson Kansas were happier too.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that it was never discussed about what Bobby eventually charged Amanda, for his ... consulting. I'll go far enough to tell you that much, before we move on with Bobby's story. It happened like this:

It was late March, and Amanda was looking back, over her shoulder, as Bobby stroked her from behind. She was waiting for him to reach around and play with her breasts. She'd already had two orgasms, while he rubbed his face in her bald pussy. Her father had obviously loved that bald pussy too. His erections were both more frequent, and harder now, than they were when she first touched them.

"Cum in my pussy, Bobby," she sighed.

"Don't you want to cum again, first?" he asked, stroking her with long, slow and deep thrusts. She watched her butt jiggle as his skin hit it.

"I want to feel you spurting in me," she said.

"The customer is always right," he said, grinning.

He sped up, lay on her back, pulled at her nipples and then she felt the rush of warmth that she now craved, even more than an orgasm.

As they lay together, and she traced her fingertips across his chest.

"How come you've never charged me anything?" she asked.

"I didn't do this for money," he said.

"Why did you do this?" she asked him.

"I like you. You needed me."

"And you wanted to impregnate me," she added.

"Of course," he said, smiling.

"You've missed a lot of work because of me," she said.

"True," he admitted.

"How much?" she asked.

"I haven't figured it up," he answered.

"I should pay you something," she insisted.

"If you want to, I'll take it," he said.

As they made love again, she tried to imagine how much this was all worth. Her personal bank account was bulging, because of the bonus structure that was built into the station business plan. All of the employees had already earned more in bonus money, in just one month, than they had gotten in the previous five years. For the last three years, there had been no bonuses at all. Everybody was happy, and it wasn't just because of the bonuses. The station was a vibrant, exciting place now, as new, interesting music was discovered, and new, interesting programming was initiated. How did you put a price tag on that? Bobby's part in that was difficult to parse out, too. The staff had done the work that had quadrupled ad revenues in only a month. But they had only been able to do that when she let them ... and it was Bobby who was responsible for getting her to let them. She knew that firmly.

Later, when he was leaving, she tucked a check in his shirt pocket.

"This is my thanks to you," she said. She kissed him. Her father hooted gently, behind her, in his wheel chair. "And Daddy's," she said. "He told me how much to give you."

"Thank you," he said, simply.

"There will be more," she said, rubbing her loins against him. "I'm going to need you for a while longer."

"We can discuss that later," he said. "The money isn't important. Even if there's no more, you'll have me until you don't need me."

"That's why we love you," she said. "Now, you go on. I need to take care of Daddy now."

"I can stay and help," he offered.

"I won't need your help for that," she said.

On the way home, Bobby narrowly missed running into the ditch on the side of the road. That's because he pulled the check out, just to glance at it.

It was for five thousand dollars.

The End

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