Just a Fucing Gigolo

Readers, this looks like it will be a six-part series. Here are the links to the preceding stories:

Part 1 - https://www.literotica.com/s/witchey-women-at-the-koa

Part 2 - https://www.literotica.com/s/the-one-where-i-fuck-a-witch

Part 3 - https://www.literotica.com/s/fuck-another-witch-and-find-out

Part 4 - https://www.literotica.com/s/the-first-hundred-year-ago-fuck

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WITCHEY WOMEN - Pt. 5

Clay Is Just A Gigolo

Lizzie has just left my room.

I hear soft voices and muffled laughter coming from behind the door to Deidre's room.

Then I hear the ringing hiss.

More soft voices follow, one continuing to say "thank you" over and over and over. And then I hear a door close.

Then... nothing else.

I look at the electric clock by the bed. It's just after two in the afternoon. I decide to take a shower in preparation for my next guest.

When I exit the bathroom, wearing nothing, Deidre is sitting, uninvited and unannounced, on the side of the bed closest to the door to her room. She's fully dressed, and is thumbing through one of the books she brought me

She looks up as she sees me and smiles.

She's not mannered in any way that I'm naked, although she can't resist a glance or two at my cock, which is still enlarged and fully erect because of Lily's spell.

I notice that the bed is freshly made; a pile of linens sits lumped in front of Deidre's bedroom door.

"Elizabeth couldn't say enough positive things about you," Deidre coos.

"You were exactly what she was expecting. She's a very happy girl... well, woman... this afternoon."

I move to the bureau where I stowed the clothes that Deidre bought me yesterday. I towel off my hair as I go.

"Thanks for making the bed," I say flatly.

I slip on a fresh pair of flannel pants and a different T-shirt.

I turn and gesture to Deidre that she join me at the side chairs I've arranged in the room.

"Let's not do the debrief on the bed," I suggest.

"Of course, no problem," Deidre replies. She puts the book back where she found it.

I sit first and Deidre follows. I pour a splash of bourbon in the glass Lizzie used and a splash in the other glass, which I hand to Deidre.

I offer to clink the rims together, and Deidre complies.

"Cheers," I say quietly.

The bourbon burns its delightful way down my throat.

Deidre is still focused on my first visitor.

"Elizabeth actually paid me more than we had agreed to," Deidre exclaims. "I mean it, Clay!...

"She is *very* happy that she spent time with you this morning!"

Deidre isn't reading the room.

I look through my bourbon and glare, silently, as Deidre continues to prattle.

"I wouldn't be surprised if she tells everyone she knows about you.

"That will probably help me fill up your dance card the next few days!"

I take another sip of bourbon and place the glass -- a bit forcefully -- on the night stand between the chairs.

Deidre shifts her attention away from Lizzie, and to the now. But she still mis-reads the situation.

Her smile fades and she takes a small sip from her bourbon. Looking into my eyes, Deidre says:

"What?... it wasn't good for you?"

It's a hurtful thing to say, and I think that Deidre realizes that right away.

I don't break my stare into Deidre's eyes until she diverts her gaze from me, looks at her bourbon, and takes another sip.

She sets the glass softly on the nightstand. Then she looks back at me.

"What do you need to tell me Clay?" Deidre says quietly.

A seethe is building inside me.

"Well," I begin, "I don't need to tell you this because it's none of your goddam business, but I will... to answer your fucking question.

"I very much enjoyed my time with Lizzie today."

"Lizzie?!?" Deidre retorts. She's still not reading the room... or me, for that matter.

"Yes... DEE-uh-dRUH." I intentionally use her full name as a back-hand to her making fun of Elizabeth's nick-name she asked me to call her.

"Elizabeth asked me to call her Lizzie. Right before we started to fuck."

I pick my glass and swirl the last of the bourbon.

"And it was a *great* fuck," I continue

I drain my glass.

"But you probably know that. You probably had you're fucking witch's ear pressed against the door."

I set the glass -- this time more gently -- on the table. And I glare at Deidre.

I now have Deidre's attention.

"Haven't we already had this conversation?" Diedre asks softly as she sips her bourbon.

After a few beats, I answer.

"We have," I reply.

"And then I fucked a stranger. And then I took a shower.

"Sorry, but I think about shit when I'm in the shower."

Diedre seems to be deciding where she wants this conversation to go.

"What kind of shit?" Deidre asks. She's looking at me directly.

"Shit like, I dunno," I begin, "maybe how somebody I had barely met seduces me into fucking her.

"And in the process of fucking her she transports me to a whole other point in time from which I can't escape.

"And so she's kidnapped me. She's imprisoned me.

"And now she's made me her man-whore for the next four and-a-half days."

I pour myself another splash of bourbon. The bottle is nearly half-empty.

"Shit like that," I conclude as I return the bottle to the table.

Deidre takes a small sip of her bourbon and then says softly,

"Clay, for the record, I wasn't listening behind the door.

"I left my room and went down to the mercantile to connect with the women I'm looking for... for you.

Her eyes come up to meet mine.

"If I wanted to get myself off over you fucking somebody...

"... I'd probably come right on in here and join the party."

She glances at the bottle of bourbon.

"I'll connect with my guy and get some more of that next time I'm out."

Deidre looks out the window and sighs. There's a pained expression on her face.

This is going nowhere and we both know it.

I've said my piece. I give Deidre an exit ramp:

"So, do you know who I'm meeting with... later?"

Deidre seems relieved that I'm willing to change the subject.

"Her name is Abigail," Deidre states in a more relaxed tone of voice. She returns her gaze to me.

"She's an entertainer... a singer.

"She performs at the bar where I met Elizabeth last night."

"Lizzie called it a Speakeasy," I relay as I take another sip of my bourbon.

"That's a funny term," Deidre laughs softly into her glass as she too takes a sip.

I'm a little surprised she hasn't heard of it. I mean, this woman runs a brewery and everything. But then, she's the Mountain Girl and I'm the writer. It's my job to inform and enrich.

"It has to do with prohibition," I reply. "The place you were last night -- where this Abigail woman works -- is an illegal establishment in this town... hell, in the whole country... right now.

"So people who frequent it are encouraged to 'speak easy' -- or softly -- about it so the authorities don't overhear of its existence."

Deidre laughs softly through her nose. "Well, the Sheriff was in the fucking joint last night, hitting up on Abigail."

I return the soft laugh. "Well, there ya go.

"Tell me more about Abigail." And I sip from my glass.

"She's beautiful," Deidre replies, with a little excitement in her voice.

"About my height. She has long dark hair. And she's a little bit on the big side.

"I don't know how old she is, or what age she wants to be, but she's funny, she's boisterous... a little bit loud. She's got lots of spirit.

"I'm meeting with her when she gets to work this afternoon. She's doing shows tonight and she'll come to see you in between one show and another."

"So this next one will be later than we planned," I interject.

Deidre nods as she drinks the last of her bourbon. "Mmm-hmm," she says as she sets down the glass. "Because of her work."

I drain my glass as well. I take Deidre's glass from the table. I'll rinse them both out in the bathroom.

I take a deep breath as I stand from my chair. Deidre stands as well..

"Okay," I sigh through the exhale. "I got nowhere else to go.

"I think I will take a little nap before she gets here."

"Good idea," Deidre replies as she steps to the open door to her room.

She turns as she crosses the threshold, smiles softly back at me, and says:

"See you later."

And the door closes softly behind her.

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I'm jarred awake to loud laughter coming from the staircase at the end of the hall. They're women's voices, and I recognize Deidre's.

She must have Abigail the Singer along with her.

I spring up from the bed and rush to the bathroom for a quick pee and to freshen my breath.

I hear the voices move past the door to my room. They are muted -- but still laughing -- as they enter Deidre's room.

I'm in my outfit of the day. I pull the T-shirt down to give one more layer of cover for my engorged meat pole.

I stand in an at-ease pose a few feet away from the side of the bed, facing the wall perpendicular to the door.

Now I hear soft giggles intermixed with the ringing hiss that signals Deidre's age-reduction spell. Abigail must want to lose at least a couple of years before we fuck.

The hiss stops but the giggles don't.

And suddenly the door between my room and Deidre's flies open, hard. It smacks into the wall of my room.

And into the room storms a woman who must be Abigail.

She sees me standing to her right, and immediately veers toward me with her arms wide open.

"You must be Clay!" her voice booms into the little room.

"Clay Spencer!!" she says it like we're old friends reuniting at the airport.

And I'm suddenly swallowed up in a bear hug from this woman.

I raise my arms slightly to return the hug. Over Abigail's shoulder I see Deidre laughing at the scenario as she turns and pulls the door closed.

Boisterous is an understatement.

Abigail breaks the hug and retreats a half step. She grabs my hands in hers and holds them out in front of her.

"Would you look at you???" she nearly bellows. It's like she's an Aunt seeing a nephew again after years apart, rather than just meeting me seven seconds ago.

"You must be Abigail," I reply with a chuckle.

"That's me," she replies, a little less loudly. She drops my hands and raises hers over her head as she does a pirouette in front of me.

And she is a beautiful woman.

Her dark hair flows down in natural waves from a center-part.

Her almond-shaped eyes are grey and are lined all around with black eyeliner. It gives her a somewhat exotic look.

Her nose is proportional and ends with a cute bulb at the bottom.

Her lips are full and rich, even though they're devoid of lipstick at the moment.

I imagine when she performs she wears something for the stage.

She's wearing a simple black dress with spaghetti straps.

The dress probably hugged her curves a little more tightly before Deidre took the however-many years away from her.

Still, Abigail's ass looks full and firm.

There is a hint of a dimple in the front of her dress but I'm guessing her thighs are a little large.

Her legs are shapely and are wrapped in black stockings with a seam that runs up the back.

Her boobs appear to be fucking enormous and there's a long, rich cleavage line rising above the bodice of her dress.

Fuck... Abigail's a little bit of a vision.

If she was waltzing into my bedroom on any given Saturday night... looking like this... yeah, I'd fuck her. In a short minute.

Now Abigail's moved forward and is directly in front of me.

And I suddenly realize there's a kiss coming. And it does.

And it's not awful. It's actually... nice. Pretty fucking nice.

Abigail's lips are full and rich and soft. Her skin is warm and firm. Her arms wrap around me and pull me tightly against her breasts, which are also warm and firm.

The kiss pauses a beat and then resumes. And Abigail brings her tongue to connect with mine. And there's an energy that flows through her that makes me glad to be the recipient of it.

Her breath smells of whiskey but has a minty taste. Her hair has the slightest tinge of smoke-smell, but it's being overpowered by perfume.

The second kiss breaks and we stand forehead-to-forehead.

"I've got another show that starts at nine," Abigail whispers hoarsely. "So we've got about an hour and a half.

"And you've got something that I simply *have* to see!"

And Abigail drops to her knees directly in front of me. As she drops her arms trace from my shoulders down my back and grasp the waistband of my flannels.

And the pulls the pants straight down to the floor.

My cock springs forward and nearly hits Abigail in the face.

"Ohhh!" she reacts accordingly.

Then she takes a longer look at my prodigious member.

Abigail looks up at me in amazement, then she looks back to my cock.

"Ohhhh shiiiiittt," she whispers.

"I think I'm gonna enjoy this."

And Abigail lowers her mouth over my massive dick.

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And... holy fucking shit, y'all!!

In a criminal record portfolio somewhere, it's probably entitled "attempted murder by fellatio."

If you've read other installments of this story, you already know this: I love oral sex. Abigail is taking that love to a whole new level.

Her mouth somehow seems to be in continual contact with every part of my cock.

Her tongue swirls around the head, around the crown, around the body of my dick.

She's pistoning slowly up and down my length, while increasing and decreasing the suction inside her mouth.

And her tongue continues to gyrate.

"Oh, Jesus," I cry out. "Jesus... Abig-uuhhhhHHHHH!!

Abigail takes a break from the fury, probably to catch her breath.

She has my cock in her left hand and the crown is right in front of her mouth. She's softly pistoning her hand up and down my cock, lubed by her own saliva.

Abigail is lapping, softly and rhythmically, at the place where the crown connects with itself at the underside.

And my cock is twitching in her hands.

"This cock is fucking amazing," Abigail whispers adoringly.

Her beautiful grey eyes look up at me and she teases me by raking her teeth softly across the head, from the crown to the tip.

And *that* feels fucking amazing.

Abigail whispers a question up at me from her knees:

"Dee-Dee tells me that after you cum, you can fuck again right away?"

I'm almost afraid of what's next.

"Yeah... that's right," I whisper back.

Abigail closes her eyes and breaths super-hot air from her open mouth over my cock.

"Mmmm," she purrs, "...that's good to know."

I'm experiencing cock worship, y'all. And I get the sense that Abigail realizes she has in her hands maybe the biggest cock she's ever seen. She wants to make the most of it.

"Sit on the bed, Clay," Abigail instructs.

"And spread your legs open wide."

I do as she asks. Abigail knee-walks so she's pushing her boobs up against the side of the bed. She pulls my hips forward a little so my balls are perched at the edge of the mattress and my cock is rising straight up at her.

And another oral assault begins.

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Abigail begins to deep throat my cock.

We've already discussed that Abigail is a larger-than-average woman. Deidre told me that she's a singer. So maybe she has better-than-average breath control and the ability to do things with her tongue and her throat that come from her experience in using her voice to make a living.

Whatever.

Abigail has her head and her mouth in the perfect position. One hand is grasping my cock and the other is resting on my groin, right at the base of my penis,

Abigail opens her mouth wide and moves her head down, and my cock is quickly making its way past her uvula and into her pharynx and somehow sneaking past her epiglottis.

And it feels fucking amazing.

She's clearly done this before. And she clearly enjoys it. As Abigail pistons my cock into and out of her throat she makes soft mewing sounds when my penis hits the deepest regions.

"Mmmmmm... Mmmmmm... Mmmmmm..." she purrs.

Her tongue is not missing the party. Abigail has her tongue pressed firmly against the underside of my cock with every in-and-out.

I'm beginning to feel a familiar tingle in the back of my groin. I rest one hand on the top of her head.

I can't help but vocalize to accompany Abigail's cock-sucking prowess.

"Oh, god..." I whisper. "Mmmmmm... Oh, fuck..."

Her breath control is astonishing, but even a trained singer has to breathe.

Abigail raises her head so my cock is now only in her mouth. She opens her mouth around my cock to inhale and exhale but her tongue never stops moving... swirling around the crown. And then she sucks her lips around the head and vacuums the air out of her mouth.

She extracts my cock from her mouth and wraps one hand around it, twisting and pumping like before.

"Clay," Abigail whispers through her racing breath as she looks up into my eyes, "when I take you deep again, act like you're fucking my throat.

"I really like that." And she smiles at me. "Mmkay?"

"Uh... sure," I murmur back.

And then she starts again.

The twisting and pumping stops as Abigail directs my cock into her mouth, then smoothly and effortlessly takes me into her throat.

I'm glad she gave me permission, because I almost instictively begin to flex my hips and groin to push deeper into Abigail's throat.

And, apparently, she really *does* like it. Abigail's voice grows louder and pulses in time with my every push.

"Mmuurrhh... Mmuurrhh... Mmuurrhh..." she moans.

My tingle grows into something of a swell as I watch this woman absolutely ravage this super-cock that Lily created on me.

Abigail need to breathe again. it's announced -- finally -- by the gurgly throat-cough that one would certainly expect from having something jammed down one's throat.

She extracts my cock and a line of spittle droops between the end of my cock and her open mouth. Abigail gasps once, twice, three times.

She pistons my penis in her hand as she looks up at me again.

"Once more," she pants softly. "Let's go slower. And...

"... you can cum this time if you want."

Abigail shifts her body, almost like a catcher getting ready to recieve a fastball. And she slowly lowers her mouth over my cock and takes me into her throat once again.

It takes everything I have to pump forward slower than before. But it also seems like I'm going deeper than before. I hear a soft, wet "nngock" sound coming from Abigail's open mouth. It's like I can feel her throat surrounding every micron of my member.

"Mmuurrhh ("nngock")... Mmuurrhh ("nngock")... Mmuurrhh ("nngock")..." she moans.

And now Abigail's tongue is doing a different dance on my dick. And I'm about to lose my fucking mind.

Friends, I've never had oral sex like this before. The sensations. The sounds. The hot, wet, slick coccoon of Abigail's throat encapsulating my cock.

Abigail gave me permission to cum. And my orgasm is blossoming... fast.

"Oh, fuck... Abbi..." I moan as she continues to piston her throat up and down my cock.

"Mmuurrhh (nngock)... Mmuurrhh (nngock)..." Abigail moans as her tongue continues its manic dance.

And my orgasm begins to roar through me. And I accompany it with my own roar.

"Ohhh.. Shiiiittt..." I moan loudly. "I'm gonn.... Abbi.... I'mmmm"

And the freight train races down the track, just as my jizz spurts out of my cock and into Abigail's waiting throat.

"UUURRRGHNNNN!!... UURRRGHNNNN!!!!... UURRRGHHHNNNNN!!!," I groan as my cock pulses inside Abigail's throat.

She's beginning to cough.

Abigail's hands have been pressed against my groin and now they're pushing against me in a natural effort to wrest my monster cock out of her throat.

I'm still pulsing but I pivot my hips away from Abigail's head to assist her in clearing my massive member from her mouth.