The Making Of A Gigolo (15) - Agatha Roberts
Chapter 9

Copyright© 2008 by Lubrican

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 9 - Agatha Roberts, set out to unmask Bobby Dalton as the pervert she and others were sure he was. The Dalton Bed and Breakfast was already changing the lives of Mirriam Dalton and her infamous son, and would now become the scene of crisis. Are Bobby's days as a purveyor of physical delight to dozens of women over? In this, the last full book in the series, we find out how Bobby feels about all this.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Reluctant   Heterosexual   Incest   Oral Sex   Masturbation   Petting   Lactation   Pregnancy   Slow  

Bobby got home late. Nobody was up, so he went straight to bed. He was upset with himself. He hadn’t meant for things to go that far with Agatha. It had been too much too fast. He knew she had loved it while it was happening, but that didn’t mean she would love it after the fact. He had given her the ammunition she had originally been after. She could honestly say she’d been seduced ... that he’d had his way with her.

There wasn’t anything he could do about it now. Her lack of experience had driven him to show her what it could be like ... to teach her once and for all that there was something for a woman like her to look forward to. He’d just taken it much too fast.

It couldn’t be helped now. It didn’t stop him from sleeping either.


He was awakened by the twins, who crawled into bed with him naked. They were not gentle in waking him up.

“Wake up!” said Matilda. There was a hand playing with his penis.

“What?” he groused. He was still sleepy.

“It’s October the first!” said Betty, into his ear. She licked it after she talked into it and his hand came up to brush her face away like it was a fly.

“So?”

“It’s October the first!“ said Matilda, too loudly.

He tried to clear his mind. Obviously they weren’t going away.

“Okay, it’s October the first,” he said, opening his eyes. “Happy October.”

“It’s been six weeks!” said Betty, her voice disgusted.

“And we’ve been on the pill for a month,” cooed Matilda.

He got it then. They didn’t have to work that day.

He didn’t make it out of bed until noon.

The twins had built up a lot of reserve passion. On that first day they could engage in amorous activities again after giving birth, they let Bobby take a nap in the afternoon. Then they dragged him to their room that night, where he slept ... occasionally ... between them.

They were pragmatic women. Both produced more milk than their babies could consume and they’d been using Bobby as a means to empty them sometimes. Now, whenever one of them had to get up to feed a baby in the middle of the night, she returned to bed to empty herself of one white milky liquid, only to have it replaced, albeit in another part of her body, with another.

It was, in fact, their passion and hunger to be filled that drove Bobby out of the house the next morning. He wasn’t sure he could take another day with the twins.

He made the rounds of his children, since there wasn’t much work to do just then, and stopped by the ready-mix lot to talk to Brad Wildress about pouring a floor in the barn. It was a bit more expensive than he’d thought it would be, but it was necessary if they were going to move forward with the barn project. While Brad used the clunky old calculator to do the figures, Bobby wondered what he might be getting himself into by moving into the barn with the twins. They’d been so horny the previous day that they’d chanced getting caught by their mother. Once they were all living in the barn, that wouldn’t be an issue any more.

It was late when he decided he had to bite the bullet, possibly, and stop by Agatha’s house. He was well aware that a woman’s reactions during good sex didn’t necessarily translate into happiness later, when emotions cooled. But he couldn’t just stay away. If she was all right with what had happened, he needed to be there for her. The same was true if she wasn’t.

There was movement at the curtains after he rang the bell, though the porch light didn’t come on. The door opened and she stood there in her robe.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

As answer, she just stood back and opened the door wider.

She didn’t attack him when he stepped inside and the door was closed ... in either sense.

“I just wanted to check on you,” he said.

“That’s what you said last night,” she said softly. “Is that why you’re here again?” She was looking down.

“Not like last night,” he said. “I really just want to see if you’re okay.” He was having a tough time judging her mood.

“Oh,” she said.

“I didn’t mean for that much to happen.”

“Yes you did.” Her voice was more firm. “You even told me that’s what you’d do.”

“I didn’t plan that,” he insisted. “When you asked me what it might be like, I just told you what I was thinking. I didn’t actually think it would ever happen.”

“It did,” she said, still not looking at his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked again.

“Yes.”

“Why won’t you look at me?” he asked.

She looked up, blushing. He saw it in her face immediately. Somehow she’d known her emotions would show ... that he’d be able to see the desire there.

“Oh,” he sighed. “You really are okay.” There was relief in his voice.

“Only in the sense that I’m not at all sorry any of that happened,” she said, licking her lips. “You know you ruined me.”

“I did?”

“Now that I know what it can be like ... I’ll never be able to go without that in my life, Bobby.”

“You can have that,” he said.

“With you,” she said, “but you won’t always be there. If I move away I’m going to have to find a man. Before it was just a dream. Now it’s a necessity. And if I stay here, someone will see you coming here, sooner or later. I wanted to call you all day long, Bobby!”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No you’re not,” she said, her voice husky. “I wasn’t the only one who loved it last night. I would have had to be blind and deaf to think that. I never knew anything could be like that.”

“I don’t know whether to be glad for you or not,” he said.

“How long can you stay?” she asked. Her fingers went to the tie of her robe.

“How long do you need me?” he countered.

“I have no idea,” she said. “You’ll have to wake me up and ask me if you can leave.”

He grinned. She might be slow to start, but once she was running she purred like a kitten.


While she flushed bright red, Bobby taught her to masturbate. She didn’t question anything he did now. Then he taught her how to let a man masturbate her. He gave her a massage and brought her off that way. He didn’t mount her until she was relaxed from five or six orgasms, had over a space of two hours.

“I want to go slowly tonight,” he said.

“I’ve had more orgasms in the last two hours than I had in the last five years before last night,” she sighed. “And you call that going slow?”

“I don’t know this for a fact, but I suspect most men will want to be inside you within thirty minutes,” he said. “You have to know how to get them to go slowly too. You may have to be very assertive to get them to do what you want.”

“I would have let you make love to me the minute you came in the door,” she sighed, as he sucked at her nipples.

“That’s fine,” he said. “But going slow is fun too.”

He showed her how, by bringing her close with his lips and fingers, but denying her the orgasm her hips arched to get. Then he teased her with the tip of his prick, first rubbing her sex with it and then penetrating her only a little, until she was writhing under him.

“This is torture!” she moaned, reaching for his hips with her fingers.

“You want this?” he asked, sliding all the way in, in one smooth, slow lunge.

“Ohhhhh yesss,” she hissed, her eyes going half closed.

“Do you remember me doing that last night?” he asked.

“Nooooo,” she whispered.

“That’s because we were both too excited,” he said, beginning to breathe more deeply.

“I feel it now,” she said, panting herself.

“Now this,” he said, going deep and rotating his loins.

“Ohhhhh,” she moaned. “That’s sooooo gooood.”

He let her have an orgasm and told her to tell him all about it. She didn’t scream this time. Her eyes got wider and wider as she told him it was almost there, then grunted in time with the muscles of her pussy as it squeezed him repeatedly.

“Ohhh that was good,” she panted when it was over. “I can’t believe I missed years and years of this.”

“When was your last period?” he panted.

“I don’t know,” she moaned. “I can’t think right now.”

“I came in you last night,” he panted. “I shouldn’t have done that. You could get pregnant. I’ll take it out tonight, when I cum.”

“I can’t get pregnant,” she panted, thrusting her pussy up at him as she said “get.”

What Agatha Roberts was thinking about just then - as well as she could think as another orgasm rushed towards her - was that she and Harry had done this ... no ... not this. What they had done for five years was some pitiful attempt at thinking about doing this, maybe. Once a week, sometimes twice, he had climbed on top of her and deposited his seed in her. In all that time she’d never gotten pregnant and he had told her it was her fault. So had her mother. And she had believed them.

“Ohhhh Aggie, I’m so sorry,” he moaned, thrusting faster.

“Don’t stop!” she whined, unable to think about anything but what was beginning to wash through her loins. The sweet streaks of pure bliss began to spread and then burst, sending jagged, brilliant lightning bolts of ecstasy throughout her body.

She did scream this time and her voice broke as vocal chords that hadn’t recovered yet complained.

She only felt better as his wet heat exploded in her belly.

They rested in each other’s arms, trading kisses, and then started all over again.


October, 1976 was a month that Agatha would always remember. She would remember it because it was the month she began exploring possibilities that she’d never thought of before.

She had three brothers, all older. They had as little use for her parents as she did and all had moved far enough away that no one could expect them to visit frequently. The closest, Archie, lived in Ohio, where he had his own pest control business. He was also the brother she was closest to emotionally, since there was only a year and a half difference in their ages.

 
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