The Accidental Gigolo Pt. 02

"No," I snapped at her. "All right, yes."

"Good," she licked her lips.

"Good? You're trying to make me uncomfortable, Mrs. Winston?"

"Haven't I told you to call me Natalie?" she said with surprising heat.

"Natalie. Sorry."

"I'm sorry, Terry," she smiled again. And then her chin started to quiver. "It's just that — just that — I don't feel much like a married woman right now."

That started another full-fledged crying jag. I pulled her close for a hug. She finally blew her nose again, and looked me in the eye.

"After the first cry, I was only a little horny," she said bluntly. "But that's the third."

She paused, leaving me to guess whether there was some sort of commutative property that applied here.

"So if you don't want to fuck me," she answered the question for me, "you'd better make that pretty clear in the next couple of seconds."

I was lost in those beautiful blue eyes.

"Good," she nodded. "I'm gonna teach you everything I know, Terry Martin. So when those women come over tonight, you can rock their little worlds."

She was busy working my shorts and briefs down over my hips as she talked, and when she had them on the floor, she told me to stretch out on the couch. She kicked off the little canvas tennis shoes she was wearing, and straddled my legs. I was doing my best to look her in the eye, but my eyes eventually drifted down to where her skirt was bunched up around her waist, exposing the cutest little pair of robin's-egg blue panties that I had ever seen.

"Now first," she interrupted me by pushing my T-shirt up my stomach, "we're gonna... oh, fuck."

"Natalie?"

She tentatively reached forward with one hand to touch it.

"Oh, my God," she said as she slowly started to stroke it. "Oh, my fucking God."

"Yeah, but you can call me Terry," I joked.

She didn't laugh, but she did give me a crooked little smile.

"For the moment," she finally said.

She pulled the sweatshirt I had given her over her head, and reached behind her back to unhook her bra.

"So what do you think now?" a worried look passed across her face as she tossed the bra across the room.

They were even better now. Two round globes of smooth, white flesh that ended with perfectly proportioned circles of light pink, which were in turn topped with hard, elegant nipples pointed directly towards me.

"Terry, you're staring."

The word "sorry" came into my brain, but only half of it successfully navigated the sex-fogged road to my mouth.

"So?" I blurted out.

She laughed, and a broad smile spread across her face.

So, boobs?" she asked. Apparently we were going to resolve my little nomenclature problem first.

"Too comic," I shook my head. "It's those two o's."

"Hooters?"

"Same problem."

"Tits?"

"That's still not it."

"Jugs?"

"Gross."

"Headlights, fun bags, knockers, melons, tatas?"

She was sort of knee-walking forward, with one knee on each side of me, as she spoke. By the time she finished with her list, she was close enough to lean forward and press them together between the palms of her hands inches away from my face.

"Breasts," I said. I kissed the nipple of her right one. "It's a soft word. Those esses and the soft e. Peaceful, too. Rhymes with rest."

I moved over to suckle the left nipple.

"We're not going to be resting peacefully much longer if you keep that up, Terry," she moaned, pressing herself against me.

I would have told her that was fine with me, but I found it difficult to talk with a mouthful of perfection. Instead, I reached around to cup her butt. I pulled her down toward me, and she moaned again, slowly rubbing herself against me. Smiling up at her, and without warning, I slipped my hands underneath her thighs and suddenly sat up, flipping her onto her back with her legs pressed against her torso.

"Terry!" she squawked.

"Natalie?" I asked her. I gently held her in place as I scrambled to a kneeling position.

"And just what do you expect to do here?" she asked, looking up at me between her thighs, over the hem of her skirt.

"Admire."

"Admire how good a pretzel I'd make?"

"All right, worship then," I said.

"Worship what?" she asked, her voice catching.

"Promise not to move?"

"Okay," she agreed in a girlish whisper.

I released her thighs and reached for the zipper in back of her skirt. Unzipped, it came off with the briefest of tugs, and once I had it to her knees, Natalie helped me by pulling it the rest of the way. I looked down at the panties that had attracted my attention before. I lowered my hands, splaying the fingers across her pubic mound as I rested the thumbs on the crotch that pointed up toward the ceiling.

"What are you doing?" she whimpered as I began slowly began tracing one thumb after the other down the center of the fabric.

"Turning you on?" I said hopefully.

"I'm already turned on," she squirmed. "Don't you want to fuck me?"

I smiled. I remembered perfectly that part of the video where Natalie explained her husband's bedroom shortcomings: "The problem is it comes too fast and it ends too soon." I had no intention of starting too fast, and I had gotten much better over the last few weeks at making sure that it didn't end too soon.

I massaged her through her panties, using the cloth as my ally. I watched her face, trying to discern by a smile, a softening around the eyes, and a fluttering of the eyelids when I was successful. She seemed to particularly enjoy it when I thumbed her clit with the fabric.

"Terry," she moaned after a while. "Take them off."

I spent another minute touching her, but I acceded to her request and pulled the panties down her thighs. Once again she took over and pulled them off, only to find that it was now my head that was pressed between her thighs.

"Oh, Terry," she sighed as I licked the inside of her left thigh and then the inside of her right.

"Mm-hmm?" I murmured, my lips now covering the same ground where my tongue had just blazed a trail.

"Oh God, Terry, put it in, baby."

By now my tongue and lips occupied the high, middle ground, doing their best to prepare the field for the requested assault.

"Terry," she whined.

I reached down and yanked my T-shirt over my head, slowly allowing her hips to rotate back toward the couch. That finally brought her into direct contact with my cock, and I slowly rubbed the shaft up and down against her.

"Terry!" She was growing more and more insistent.

I spread her legs just a little more and leaned forward, easily sliding inside of her. Up to a point, anyway. After that, it was a question not so much of sliding it in, and certainly not of forcing it in, but of pressing through a sort of resilient force field that activated and energized every nerve I had on my cock. That goal I had set for myself — of making sure that Natalie's experience didn't end too soon — was now in mortal danger. There were few things in my life that I could use as a distraction. Visions of Laura and Pam weren't likely to help. Visions of my mother would probably help too much. Finally, I settled on swimming, that slow rhythm I tried to use once I'd mounted the starting blocks, the way I had of rocking back and forth, back and forth, trying to anticipate the starting horn but not letting myself be too far out of position if I failed.

"Oh, Terry, oh God!" Natalie gasped. I felt her relax into the cushions of the coach. And then I suddenly found myself overtaken by my own climax, groaning as I held myself inside her. As I finished, the briefest of thoughts flitted through my mind. Maybe sex was always like this. Maybe each time was always better than the time before, just because it was this time. Or maybe I was just in love with my married neighbor. I wondered what she had thought about. I blinked open my eyes, and smiled down at her. That was when I realized that I had been making love to an unconscious woman.

I jerked myself out of her, horrified at what I had just done. Fortunately, as I stared down at her with eyes the size of salad plates, I could see the faintest of smiles on her lips. Maybe I hadn't screwed up after all. I went to the kitchen and fetched a glass of water. I sat down beside her on the couch, watching her chest slowly rise and fall, until she slowly opened her eyes and saw me.

She smiled, a beautiful smile that revealed two even rows of perfect white teeth and that made her eyes even more beautiful than they had been before. It was a smile of radiant happiness, and I tried to pay her back with one of my own.

"You okay?" I said softly.

"I'm wonderful," she said. "Thank you, Terry."

"No, thank you," I said, trying to sound as adult as I possibly could.

"You don't mind if I take a little nap now, do you?" she asked. "I didn't sleep at all last night, and then I spent this morning alternating between anger and despair."

"Uh, no," I said. "You want to use my bed?"

"That would be nice," she agreed. She took a couple of sips of water, and I led her upstairs to my room, the one with the sheets that I had just washed that morning.

"Just give me a couple of hours," she smiled after I had tucked her in. "Then I'll be ready for round two."

I smiled back.

"Sweet dreams, Natalie."

"I think I'm going to have a religious dream," she said sleepily.

"Religious?"

"I'm going to dream about my fucking god."

She was asleep before I shut the door and it dawned on me that she was talking about me.

I was sitting in the den around five o'clock, watching the second football game of the afternoon, when Natalie padded in wearing one of my T-shirts and the gym shorts that I kept by the bed for those late-night raids on the refrigerator.

"There it is!" she exulted.

"There what is?"

"My sweatshirt," she said. She picked it up off the floor.

"I think that's my sweatshirt," I told her.

"Used to be, maybe," she laughed. Without a thought, she whipped my T-shirt over her head — wholly unconcerned that her bra was still lying somewhere on the other side of the room — and pulled the sweatshirt on in its place. I looked at her expectantly, probably a little too expectantly. Evidently, I was an open book.

"How about some dinner first?" she giggled.

"First?" I feigned confusion.

"Before round two, silly boy," she said. She sat down next to me on the couch. "I came over here this afternoon to bitch to your mom about my life, and you made me forget, for a little while, that I had anything to bitch about. I decided to teach you about sex, and I found out that there's not that much left for you to learn. So after I change my clothes and buy you dinner down at the Sizzler, we're coming back here so you can teach me everything that you know."

I probably reacted with alarm. Trust me, Natalie Winston did not want to learn everything that I knew about sex.

She giggled again.

"And then," she whispered, "we'll be ready for when your two other older girlfriends get here tonight."

I honestly didn't think she wanted to be here for that, either.