The Accidental Gigolo Pt. 01

It was hypnotic. I'd watched Pam play with herself last weekend, but this was ten times better. For one thing, I wasn't outdoors, looking into the kitchen trying not to get caught by the neighbors peeping into my own house. For another, I had a full-frontal view, not the rear view I'd had when I'd watched Pam do herself. The only downside was that Laura didn't have a zucchini.

I suddenly remembered I had a job to do, and I slowly returned my eyes to Laura's. The captain was once again on the bridge. Laura's eyes were still looking directly at me, although they had lost a little focus.

She was whimpering now, soft little gasps and hisses and "fucks." My eyes drifted back downwards, lingering on the plump tits that had been the subject of so many of my fantasies. She obviously noticed my attention, because her left hand left her pussy and squeezed her tit, pinching the nipple between thumb and forefinger. The right hand, meanwhile, was getting serious about its task. I watched three fingers thrusting in and out of Laura's pussy, turning her breathing into a series of sharp rhythmic exhalations.

"Oh, fuck," she suddenly screamed, her left hand with a death-grip on her tit, her right hand pressed hard against her thick brown bush. Her eyes were no longer open, and she just stayed there, in place, letting her orgasm consume her for as long as it could, her torso trembling and her legs locked rigidly in place.

When she finally opened her eyes again, I offered her a hand and pulled her toward me, catching her in my embrace and spinning her into the shower. The water was only lukewarm now, and I hurriedly lathered her up and rinsed her off. We stepped out of the shower together and took up the oversized towels that she'd laid on the sink for us.

When we were dry I reached forward and pulled the wet cap off of her head, throwing it in the sink.

"I have another one," she said, shyly adding "master."

"Get it," I said.

She dropped the towel on the floor and ran to comply. I threw my towel on top of hers and walked back into the bedroom, climbing onto the bed. The second hat wasn't identical but its effect was no different. Watching Laura Stone return, out of breath, and stop in the doorway at my silent command wearing nothing but a pink baseball cap had my dick twitching.

I looked at it and then down at Laura. I nodded toward my dick, and in a matter of seconds it was engulfed in her warm mouth. It was still soft, but not for long. Laura finally pulled herself off and began caressing it with her hands.

"Are you going to fuck me with this, master?" she giggled.

"Should I?"

"It might be too big."

"You mean you might be too small," I replied.

She stared at me for a second before breaking out into a big smile.

"Of course, sir," she laughed before returning to work with her mouth. "I might be too small."

After she spent another minute or two licking and sucking, I reached down and tugged on her ponytail, pulling her off me. She sat back on her haunches, and I realized that she was waiting to find out what we were going to do next. Hell, so was I. But apparently, I was going to have to think it up all by myself. I got off the bed and moved behind her.

"Get your ass in the air," I said, belatedly adding a "bitch" for effect.

It was a wonderful ass, size 12 or not. I caught myself staring at it, admiring once again the muscles she'd developed in her thighs.

"Master?" she asked after I'd apparently been admiring it too long.

"Shut up," I slapped one of her cheeks with an open palm. "Move forward."

She crawled forward onto the bed, all the way to the top. I climbed back on behind her, giving her ass another slap just because I liked to see it jiggle. Then I put the tip of my cock against her slit.

"So you want this, bitch?" I asked her.

"Please, master," she begged.

Good enough for me. I thrust forward about halfway. It turned out Laura wasn't too small after all. But her guttural "oh, fuck" made me think that it wasn't a comfortable fit for her either. I slowly backed out, and slowly pushed in again, just a little farther. I slowly backed out again, and pushed forward another time. It was a fun game, and I didn't appear to be the only one enjoying it. Each of Laura's hands clutched a knot of twisted pillow, and she turned her head to the side to apprise me of her own desires.

"Oh, God, master, yes," Laura moaned. "Harder, master, harder."

I started picking up the pace and then thought to myself, hey, who's making the rules here anyway? I backed off again, to hear a whiny "nooo."

I smacked her again. I'll give you no, bitch.

I slowly worked my way back to my former pace, watching the way her right eye — the eye that was turned toward me — rolled up into her head as she got closer and closer.

And then the phone next to the bed started ringing. Surprisingly, it didn't bother me at first. In fact, I thrust forward twice more before the answering machine picked up and I heard the voice of my mother.

"Laura?" she asked. "Are you there?"

Hearing her voice during the actual act of coition was not only enough to stop me in mid-thrust, but it started my erect cock on a quick trip back to limp-land.

"Bitch," Laura muttered.

"I tried calling before to get hold of Terry," my mother was saying. "I certainly hope you're just outside somewhere, because you know I don't like you leaving Terry alone with all those machines. Anyway, I'm on my way over there now, so I'll see you in just a few minutes."

"No!" Laura screamed. She reached for the phone but the line had already gone dead.

"Fuck!" I growled, pushing myself off of Laura's ass with both hands.

"Terry," she moaned, wiggling her ass at me. "What about my cum? I need to —"

"You need to shut up and get dressed," I gave her one last smack.

I hurriedly yanked on my clothes and tore down the stairs, sliding into the garage just as I heard my mother's car pulling into the driveway.

"Terry?" she yelled after slamming the door. "Where are you?"

"In the garage, mom," I said.

She found me sitting down next to the lawnmower, fiddling around with the sparkplug. What my mother knew about combustion engines could be reduced to the phone number of the garage that serviced her Mercedes, so she had way of knowing that the sweat that covered my face wasn't the product of good, honest labor.

"Did you hear the phone ring?" she asked me.

"In Mrs. Stone's house?" I replied. "Yeah, just a couple of minutes ago."

"Is Mrs. Stone here?" she asked. She had a habit of referring to her friends by their full name when she was talking to me, as if it would be inappropriate for me to even hear her address them as Laura, or Pam, or Natalie.

"She's, uh —"

"Right here, Dee," Laura came around the corner of the garage. She was wearing a T-shirt and overalls and carrying a potted plant and a small shovel. The expertly smeared dirt on her face was perfect.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I just couldn't get inside to the phone on time. I should probably set it to ring a little longer."

"Whatever," my mother dismissed it as no longer important. "I need Terry to come home. John and I have to go out tonight and I'd like to get his father's car washed first."

Laura raised an eyebrow.

"Can't you just take it to a carwash?" she asked.

"John says they're terrible," Mom answered. "And they never apply the wax evenly. And since he's at work all afternoon. . ."

That left me.

Laura sighed and her shoulders drooped.

"So you can come back tomorrow to finish, Terry?" she turned to me, drawing out the word "finish."

I opened my mouth to answer and my mother beat me to it.

"No," she said to me. "Mrs. Lee called and wants you to work on some computer thing for her at the school tomorrow."

"But —" Laura started to protest.

"At least it's a skill," My mother sighed. "Now come on. Put your bike in the car."

This was the SUV, of course; if she'd brought the Mercedes I would have had to leave the bike here and walk back for it. And I would have been required to put a towel on the seat before I could plant my filthy, sweaty butt in it. Laura watched me load up the bike, her face a tapestry of sexual frustration, anger, and resentment. She was very close to just stamping her foot on the ground.

"Whoa, almost forgot my wallet," I said after Mom had climbed in the driver's seat.

"Hurry up, Terry," Mom said impatiently as I trotted to the garage.

I stopped right next to Laura on my way back to the car.

"Hey, Mom," I said. "Mrs. Stone's TV is busted. Since you're not home tonight, maybe she can watch that PBS series on ours, huh?"

"Sure, Laura," Mom smiled sweetly, her impatience becoming more and more evident. "Come on over. You can keep an eye on Terry. We're not leaving until eight o'clock or so. Now are you coming, Terry?"

"Yeah," I nodded, trying not to smile.

I turned to Laura, who was having to try even harder not to smile.

"No panties," I muttered under my breath. "Bitch."