The Making Of A Gigolo (9) - Amanda Griggs
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Reluctant, Heterosexual, Incest, Harem, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Petting, Pregnancy,
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Bobby's life, and that of his family, was getting more complicated. Then he met Amanda, who was very busy, very impatient, and who had no time for a permanent man in her life. Her world was falling apart, though, and she needed. something.
1972 - Fall
Florence Dalton felt both silly and excited. The excitement was easy to understand. She had her hand tucked into Ted Brandywine’s arm, as they approached the school gym. She was on what she thought of as her first real date. That she was nineteen, and had been on many ‘dates’ before didn’t meet her definition. She’d been out with boys before, but that had been years ago and only to see what the boy was like. This was the first time she’d been out with one she already liked ... one who made her feel tingles in her erogenous zones.
She knew what Ted was like. She’d known him for more than a year, while he’d been her mother’s lover. Somehow, surprising both of them, an attraction had developed between them. Neither had sought that. Ted loved her mother, and loved being in bed with her. Florence was getting all the sexual attention she needed from Bobby, her almost twenty-four year old brother. Neither had wanted to hurt Mirriam, Flo’s mother.
But this attraction, strange and scary to both of them, had affected their day-to-day lives, and it eventually came out. Both were surprised when Mirriam, instead of being jealous or angry, encouraged them to find out if it was a deep attraction, or just a crush. That was only partially an altruistic surge of love and concern for Florence, who she was worried about, because Flo didn’t date. Mirriam was unaware that, while Ted was thrusting his strangely bent penis into Mirriam, and making her happy enough not to look for another man, Bobby was thrusting his long, thick prick into Flo and making her happy enough not to look for one either. The greater reason for Mirriam’s generosity was because she was afraid that, if Ted kept lavishing his physical love on her, she’d get pregnant again. She had just given birth a few months before, and it had been an agonizing pregnancy.
So, while Mirriam loved the attention she got from Ted, it was dangerous attention, even though she was on the pill now. She didn’t exactly come to the conclusion that if Flo got pregnant, it would be much more suitable, but if someone would have suggested that to her, she would have nodded in agreement.
When the dust from the disclosure of their interest in each other settled, Ted asked Florence on a date. In his mid-thirties, Ted had no idea how to plan a date for a nineteen-year-old woman. He understood Mirriam, and knew what she might appreciate, but taking her daughter out was different. So, taking the easy route, he invited her to the Halloween party at the school, where he taught third grade. Everybody liked a party ... right?
That, in fact, was why Florence felt silly. She was in costume, and she felt about the age she was supposed to look. Ted was in costume too. Her mother had made both costumes on the sewing machine at the farm that had made so many of Florence’s clothes before. They looked professionally made, because of Mirriam’s expertise, except for the hair, which was a mop head, dyed flaming red, and draped over Florence’s natural hair, which was light, and pulled back into a pony tail under the ‘wig.’
Her dress was red gingham, and the fabric was thin enough that, through the white checks, her darker skin could be seen in a gauzy kind of way. There was lace around the hem of the bottom, which was good, because she would have been afraid to bend over in the dress otherwise. The lace fell to the middle of her thighs. A white apron concealed what would have been a generous view of the insides of her breasts, because the pattern Mirriam had found in her piles of patterns made the neck scoop so low that Florence didn’t have the right kind of bra to wear with such a thing. When she had complained to her mother about that, Mirriam’s response had been pragmatic.
“We don’t have time to go shopping for that. Just go without a bra. The apron will cover everything.”
Now, as she and Ted walked toward the doors to the gym, she felt her breasts jiggling and bouncing in her loose cotton dress, and the cool October air teasing her thighs, all the way up to the new, pink, and extremely feminine panties her mother had put with the outfit. Where in the world Mamma had found red and white striped knee socks, Flo had no idea. All she knew, after looking in the mirror before Ted picked her up, was that Raggedy Ann had never looked quite this old ... and young at the same time.
Ted Was dressed as Raggedy Andy, of course, with his sailor hat, red gingham shirt, made of the same cloth her dress was, and dark blue, almost ludicrously loose pants, that went to just below his knees. Mirriam had found the same red and white striped socks for him. Finishing out his costume was a wide white collar on his shirt, and a huge, floppy black bow tie.
“I feel so silly,” she breathed, feeling her loose breast press into Ted’s arm.
“You don’t look silly,” he said softly. “You look good. In fact, you look so good that I’m in big trouble, here.”
“Thank you,” she said, giggling. “Why are you in trouble?”
“Your mother said I could take you out, not lust after you,” he said.
She squeezed his arm, pressing her warm breast harder against him.
“Then don’t lust after me,” she said.
He looked over at her. She had round, red spots of lipstick on her cheeks, like he did, and Mirriam had done something with other cosmetics to make Flo’s eyes and lips look large and cartoonish.
“Like that’s ever going to happen,” he sighed.
“This is so strange,” she said. “Being here, with you, I mean. Mamma has been so sweet about all this. I still feel guilty.”
“We’re just on a date,” he said, uncomfortably.
“Yes,” she said, looking up at him. “But you’re lusting after me ... and I don’t mind that.”
“Oh wow,” he moaned. “You can’t say things like that to me, Flo.”
“Why not?” she giggled. “You said you were lusting after me.”
“Yes, but you’re not wearing thin pants,” he sighed. “If you keep saying things like that, they won’t let me in the gym!”
She giggled again and leaned forward, shamelessly, to look at the front of his pants.
“It’s not so bad,” she said. “If it doesn’t get any worse,” she added.
For being at a party that involved kids who ranged in age between nine and thirteen, Flo was having a great time. There were lots of adults there too, of course ... teachers, and some volunteer parents, who were running the games. She joined in the juvenile fun, dropping a string, tied to the end of a branch, over a sheet, and then pulling it up to find what her safety pin had “caught”. In this case, it was a pair of big red lips, made of wax, that could be gripped between the teeth, or just chewed, until the flavor was gone, and all that was left was a pale pink wad of soft wax. She put them in an apron pocket for later.
She got into a competition with Ted at the dart game, where six darts were given the player. The more balloons you popped with your darts, the better the prize. She just wanted to pop more balloons than he did, though. They played three times, Ted paying a quarter for each of them all three times. When Ted had one more dart left, they were tied, over all, with fourteen balloons each. She tried to distract him by clutching his arm, and rubbing her breast against it, and by talking to him, with her mouth close to his ear.
“Leave me alone, woman!” he said, in a playful snarl. “This is important business here!”
“It’s just balloons,” she cooed, digging her forefinger into his side. “I should win. I’m the poor defenseless girl.”
“Ohhh no you don’t,” he said, pushing her away from him. “Women’s lib is here to stay. This competition is important for me to win!”
“Why?” she asked, her voice coy.
“Because to the victor go the spoils ... that’s why,” he said, grinning. He casually tossed his dart, and suddenly, the score was fifteen to fourteen.
“Play again!” she pouted.
“No way,” he said. “I’m quitting while I’m ahead.”
The amused parent in the booth handed Ted a Teddy Bear, made up to look like Frankenstein.
“That’s your spoils?” laughed Flo.
“Nope,” he said airily. “That’s just my prize. I’ll claim my spoils later.”
“Ooooo,” she said, feigning little girl fear. “I’m so scared!”
“You should be,” he announced gravely.
She laughed and ran a few steps to the next booth, which was a ring-toss game. Looking over her shoulder she bent forward just a little, and wiggled her butt at Ted.
“Please,” said the woman running the ring-toss. “My little girl is right over there!”
“Sorry,” said Flo, standing back up. She blushed.
“Get a room or something,” said the plump, plain woman in the booth, her voice disgusted. Part of her disgust was because she’d never looked like this Raggedy Ann girl, and knew she never would.
Florence behaved herself, feeling properly chastened. At least until they got to the dance floor. Whoever was selecting the records to play either had a sense of humor, or remembered what it was like to be in Middle School, with hormones beginning to flow through barely teenaged bodies. That was obvious because every fourth song was a slow song, where the kids could experiment with that delicious new pressing of male to female bodies.
The younger kids danced mechanically, going in square patterns, as they’d been taught, carefully thinking about where the next step was supposed to go, so that no toes got stepped on. The twelve and thirteen-year-olds, though, were less conscious of their feet, and more conscious of the fronts of their bodies, as they pushed, rubbed and explored.
Florence may as well have been thirteen or fourteen, as she danced with Ted. It was all new to her, and deliciously exciting. Her soft, round breasts, beneath the thin cotton, and not much thicker apron, squashed against Ted, and his hand stroked her lower back in a one inch circle. Their other hands were properly out, away from their bodies, and she kept her head off his chest, her eyes looking into his.
He steered her toward the corner of the dance area, where it wasn’t so well lit and, during a turn, she felt him press his loins against her.
“We have to keep dancing,” he whispered. “Even when the song is over.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because I can’t let anybody see the front of my pants,” he whispered.
She pushed against him gently, and felt the “problem”.
“We can’t keep dancing,” she said, grinning. “We’d look silly.”
She giggled as the music stopped, and Ted turned, apparently examining the wall. She stood, her back to him, as if she was watching the kids gyrate as a rock and roll song came on.
Two songs later he turned around.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m good for a while, I hope.”
She resisted looking, but smiled. “You make me feel good,” she said.
“You make me feel horny,” he replied.
“Ted!” she chided. “This is only our first date!”
“I am in so much trouble, here,” he moaned.
The thrill she felt, at his so obvious excitement, made her feel pretty and feminine, even in her silly outfit. She had an errant thought that she’d need Bobby badly, tonight, when she got back home. She might even need him twice.
The rest of the party seemed to fly by, and soon Flo was sitting next to Ted, holding his arm, as he drove toward the farm. She couldn’t believe what a good time she’d had. She couldn’t wait for a good night kiss from Ted either. She hoped Bobby was home, and not off somewhere, like he had a tendency to do lately. The last two Friday nights, his bed had been empty when she’d gone to see him. He wasn’t at breakfast on the following Saturdays either, but had shown up later, as if nothing was odd.
He pulled into the drive to the house and, when he got to the yard, turned his lights off, before circling to park the car. It was late, and, while the yard light was on, there were no lights on in the house.
“I had such fun tonight,” she sighed, laying her head on his shoulder. “It’s too soon for it to be over,” she pouted.
“We could do some stargazing,” he suggested.
“Ohhh I’d like that,” she said. “It’s chilly, though.”
“I have like three or four blankets in the trunk,” he said.
He got out, opened the trunk, and came out with an armful of blankets.
She looked up, her arms holding herself because of the chill.
“We need to get away from the yard light,” she said. “Come on.”
She took him behind the barn, where the inky blackness was almost complete. Slowly, their eyes adjusted, though, and soon they could select a place to put the blanket. Flo kicked at an old bale of hay, left there because one of the wires holding it together had snapped, and it couldn’t be picked up without it falling apart. Taking the remaining wire in her hands, she lifted, and the bale bent in the middle and burst. She kicked the now loose hay around, making a mattress, and Ted put a blanket down on top of that. She went to one edge of the blanket and got down to scoop and pile hay there, making what amounted to pillows at the edge of the blanket. When she stood up, she had pieces of hay all over her.
“Don’t want to get that on the blanket,” said Ted, stepping forward to brush the hay off her front.
His hands brushed here, and there, sliding over her breasts entirely more than was needed.
“It’s sticking to the apron,” he said. “Let’s just take that off.”
She turned her back to him and felt flutters in her belly as he untied the apron in the back, let it fall down her arms, and then tossed it to one corner of the blanket. She looked down. What had seemed like pitch black, earlier, was now something else entirely. As their eyes adjusted to the dark, the starlight was almost astonishingly bright. She could clearly see that all of the insides of her breasts were now exposed. He went past her to lie down, and patted the blanket next to him. She went down on hands and knees, and saw him look at her cleavage. She felt the butterflies dance more actively in her belly, and took longer than needed to pat the blanket into place, before lying down on his arm, which had had stretched out.
Then he couldn’t get the other blankets over them, because he had only one arm free, and they had to sit up, to arrange the blankets over their feet and legs, before lying down again, his arm under her neck, and her head on his shoulder. She pulled her wig off and tossed it to one side. Her pony tail was in the way too, so she reached and pulled the rubber band from it, shaking her hair loose, before settling her head on his shoulder again.
They lay there silently for a minute or more, staring up at the bright pinpoints of impossibly old light that was making its way to their eyes after traveling billions of miles.
“This is nice,” she sighed, wiggling closer to him.
“This is wonderful,” he sighed back.
“How did this happen?” she asked.
“Us? This?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ve always liked you ... but not like this.”
“The first time I saw you, I saw a younger version of Mirriam,” he said softly. “Then, as I spent more time around you, I learned that, while you’re similar in many ways, you’re very different too.”
“I love my mother,” she said. “I don’t mind being like her at all.”
“I love her too,” said Ted. “That’s what makes this all seem so strange.”
“I know,” said Flo.
“It’s not the same, between us, though,” he sighed. “Your mother and me, I mean.”
“Why?” she asked.
“She’s worried about getting pregnant again,” he said.
“Oh,” said Flo.
“We still love each other,” he said, somehow feeling able to talk about this, even though the woman in his arms was his lover’s daughter. “But it makes it tense. At least if it’s during her fertile time.”
“I thought she went on the pill,” said Florence. Saying that made her try to remember if she’d taken her own pill that morning. She couldn’t remember, as usual. She’d have to check when she went in the house.
“She did, but it’s not a hundred percent effective,” he said. “She still worries.”
“Then just make love to her when she’s not in her fertile time,” suggested Flo, who, somehow, felt comfortable talking about this while she was in the arms of her mother’s lover.
“I guess I could do that,” he said. “I think we got spoiled while she was pregnant. We could do whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted, then.”
He was quiet for a while.
“But what about you and me?” he asked.
Florence wasn’t quite at the point of thinking of them as “us”. She was having the time of her life on this date, but there was no “Ted and Flo” ... not at present. She took the time to think about that. There was clearly a “Bobby and me” in Flo’s mind. That relationship was well defined. She got horny, and Bobby solved that problem. She loved him all the time, whether they were in bed, having sex, or doing chores together. Bobby was just ... there. Now she tried to think of what it might be like if Ted was just ... there. How would that make her feel about Bobby? The answer was clear, to her. Bobby would always be there, and she would always love him. She couldn’t imagine her life without him in it, sexually or otherwise.
Was that how Ted felt? Was that how Mamma felt? Could Mamma imagine her life without Ted being in her bed, from time to time? Thinking of her mother lying, forever alone in bed, was sad.
Flo thought about how she shared Bobby with her sisters, and all those other women. That didn’t bother her. He always had plenty for her. He always made her feel so special.
Could Ted do that too? Obviously he did. His other lover was Aunt Prudence. He didn’t have as many women as Bobby did, but the two he had never complained.
She rolled, slightly, and her breast pressed into his chest.
“There isn’t really any ‘us’ right now,” she said. “But if there were ... I don’t think I’d want Mamma to be alone all the time.”
Ted’s prick blossomed to life in his loose, blue, Raggedy Andy pants. Within fifteen seconds, as he thought of being able to make love to mother and daughter, his penis, with its strange banana shape, leapt into full erection.
“Do you think there ever could be an ‘us’,” he asked.
“If how I feel right now is any indication,” she sighed, “I’m going to be very unhappy if there isn’t ever an ‘us’.”
His heart thundered in his chest.
“Really?” he asked. “‘Cause I feel the same way.”
“Do you want to kiss me?” she asked.
“Desperately,” he moaned.
Suddenly they were on their sides, kissing passionately. Bobby had trained Flo well, and she was used to letting her passion go, now. Gone was the fearful, timid girl who had given her virginity to her brother. Flo knew what she wanted, and knew how to communicate that to a man. Their second kiss was a long French kiss, that promised many, many more, as she wiggled an arm under him, and used her other hand to slide up and down his back.
He crushed her to him too, and his hand went from her back to her butt, where their movements had caused her dress to slide up. His hand hit her panties, and then went onto warm flesh, and she moaned into his mouth.
Her free hand slid to his hip, and then made him move back, so she could grope for his prick. She found it, and squeezed it, through the thin cotton of his pants.
Three kisses later, she pushed back, and pulled her arm out from under him, panting. She stood, reached behind her and unzipped the dress. With a shrug of her shoulders, it dropped straight down, to slide off her breasts, hang up briefly on her hips, and then fall softly to the blanket.
She stood in the cool air, her nipples already stiff and rubbery, erect from both passion and the cool air. They itched so much that she had to lift her hands and squeeze them, as he looked up, his mouth hanging open.
“You’re so beautiful,” he sighed.
She got down on her hands and knees again, her heavy breasts hanging, and attacked his pants. There was a ripping sound and he lifted his hips to let her slide them down. She pulled his underwear down with them, and his bent boner sprang free.
She stopped, her eyes wide. She’d never seen anything like it, of course. Bobby’s was the only one she’d ever seen. This one was thinner, and without the wrinkles and bumps that Bobby’s foreskin created. But the most obvious difference was the bend, a full ninety degrees, from where it sprouted from just on top of full, round balls, to the tip, which seemed to be kissing his abdomen, where his pubic hair started.
She stared at it, while he pulled at his shirt and bow tie.
Finally he was naked. She was still staring but her hand reached for the strange looking thing. He sighed as she gripped it, experimentally, trying to figure out how to stroke it, like she stroked Bobby’s. It didn’t work very well. She noticed how smooth it felt, by comparison to Bobby’s veined and bumpy one. She smoothed her hand over Ted’s balls, which had less hair on them, but looked just as big and full as Bobby’s ever did.
He sat up, making her back up, and then stood up, pulling her with him. As soon as she was standing, he dropped to his knees, and his fingers went to her panties. The chill of the night air penetrated her consciousness as she felt him slide her panties down. She stepped out of them and jumped as she felt his face press against her pubic hair. His tongue was warm as it probed, sliding over her slippery pussy lips.
“It’s cold,” she whined, thinking about how he could do that later. She didn’t know when, or where, but she knew she’d ask him to do that later.
They scrambled back into a prone position, pulling the blankets over them, and she wiggled into his arms, loving his heat first. Several kisses later, she felt hot, as his hands explored her naked body, and a finger felt to see if she was a virgin.
“Have you ever... ?” he gasped into her mouth.
“Yes,” she panted back. “But only with one other man.”
Both of them were too impatient for more foreplay. Later, they’d learn to spend an hour, building up to this point, but right now, he needed to feel her warm, clasping pussy around his prick, and she needed to be filled.
He crawled on top as she spread herself open for him, without a shred of shame or doubt. He reached to position himself, and then, with a groan, slid all the way into her in one, slow lunge.
It was different for both of them. To Ted, she felt excruciatingly tight, as if her pussy was trying to defend itself, and keep him out. To Flo, who was actually used to a penis that was larger in diameter, the feeling was of something smooth, warm and hard being used to touch her in ways she’d never been touched before.
Flo had a g-spot too, just like her mother. And when the up-thrusting tip of Ted’s prick slid over it, she felt something she’d never felt with Bobby. Bobby went deep inside her, and punished the end of her sexual canal. Ted’s prick seemed to slither inside her, more gently, in a way, but touching her pussy walls in ways that Bobby never could.
Her first orgasm was one of the hardest she’d ever had, and she squealed her joy at it, her voice loud in the quiet darkness. He kept going, and she squealed again, as her pussy rippled and her cervix dipped and opened, in anticipation of what was to come.
With Bobby, when the tip of his prick slid past her cervix, to stretch the tissue beyond it, the top of his knob caressed her cervical lips. But with Ted, when the tip of his prick got to her cervix, which was as far as it would ever go, the bend forced his slim, arrow shaped glans between those lips.
It was while the tip of his prick was peeking into Flo’s womb, straining to get further, that he stopped.
“This,” he gasped, “is the spoils of combat!”
He sighed, and let that penis belch her womb full, to overflowing, with his thick, rich sperm.
Ted produced prodigious amounts of semen, as either Mirriam or Prudence would have been able to testify to. Once Flo’s womb was awash in the warm fluid, the pressure forced his following spurts back out, around the head of his prick, and down the ill fitting joining of his prick with her pussy walls. A surge of spunk burst from her pussy lips, where their attempt to clasp the base of his penis was imperfect, and she felt heat on her clitty. With an agonized groan of satisfaction, Florence had another climax that made her go rigid in every muscle in her body. Her muscles stayed rigid for fifteen full seconds, before they all went limp at the same time. Her lungs pulled air into them, and then made it burst back out, to be able to refill them over and over, as her starved blood demanded more oxygen.
They cuddled and kissed for ten minutes. Ted was used to having to satisfy two women, sometimes at the same time. His recuperative powers were strong.
They spent three hours under the blankets. Neither said more than ten or fifteen words. Their bodies did all the communicating for them, as he came into her three more times.
They were haphazardly, mostly dressed, when they walked from behind the barn. Flo could feel the semen running down her legs, clear to the knees already. She couldn’t believe how much he had squirted in her. She found it easy to believe how much she had loved it, each time he had added to what was already there.
Their good night kiss, by the car, was long enough that she finally pushed him away.
“Not again,” she moaned. “It’s running down my legs already!”
“I want to see you again,” he panted, that being the only thing he could think of to say.
“I’m free tomorrow,” she panted back. “and every day after that,” she added.
“Deal,” he sighed.
She made him get in the car, and stood, watching him drive away. She knew her panties were in his pocket ... had seen him steal them, while they were getting dressed. She went into the house as quietly as she could. She was in no shape to be seen by anyone, right now. She went by Bobby’s door without a thought, and gave a sigh of relief when she got into her room without meeting anyone. Turning on only her reading lamp, she got undressed again. The shirt she had taken off to get into costume was lying on the bed, and she cleaned between her thighs with that, amazed at the amount of white goo that was coating her legs, and still dripping from the mouth of her sex.
She sealed her pussy lips closed with three fingers, and jumped into bed, where maybe it wouldn’t leak quite so much. She yawned, feeling warm and happy. She was satisfied. She didn’t compare it to what she felt like when Bobby satisfied her ... she just enjoyed the feeling of being full of Ted’s warm spend, and the afterglow of all those orgasms.
She was asleep within minutes. She never looked at her pill container. She forgot that completely. She slept peacefully, a smile on her face, that might not have been there had she looked at that pill container. Instead of having empty pill pockets, all in a row, it looked more like someone had picked and chosen which pills to swallow, on a given day, taking one from here, today, and one from over there, the next.
That’s not what had happened, of course. Of the thirty-one pills in the packet, she had taken seventeen over the course of a month. The last three pills sat mindlessly in their pockets, looking like little sugar pills, which was about as effective as the seventeen she had swallowed had been, taken on random days.
Those seventeen pills had confused her ovaries, a bit. Those ovaries got mixed chemical signals, and, when it was time to drop an egg into a fallopian tube, they weren’t quite sure what to do.
They erred on the side of nature ... which said, “Egg awaaaaay!”
As she lay there, sleeping peacefully, that egg was being bombarded by tens of thousands of happy, eager sperm cells, all fighting to see who got to claim the spoils of combat.
By the time Flo woke, feeling refreshed and wonderful the next morning, and did think to check her pill packet, one of Ted Brandywine’s most fond fantasies had come true.
He was going to be a father.