Virgin Gigolo

I suppose I could have quit taking care of Mary's yards long before, but just never had. It wasn't that much -- about an hour every Tuesday and I had the "every week" stuff done -- but the extensive clean-up like I'd had to do that first time I'd worked for her, anymore I would go by the local Home Depot parking lot and get a couple of unskilled laborers to assist. She'd pay for a couple of hours with them with my supervision and everything was done. But most of the time on Tuesday afternoons I'd go over, mow her yard, and especially on hotter days get hot and sweaty. When I got really dirty, she'd take a shower with me first, but it took a while to realize she

liked

fucking when I was a little bit hot and sweaty. Maybe it was pheromones, or just that I normally took my shirt off. I guess I was "giving it away for free," as Robin described it, as I never charged her for sex on Tuesdays. But whether it was just that she was "my first" or not, sex with Mary was always fun and I never considered charging her for our "extra" day. She always gave as much to me as I gave to her, with no strings attached, a truly mutually beneficial relationship.

We didn't always have sex on Tuesdays, but when we did it was never just a "take me to bed and fuck me" day. Saturdays, when I always charged her, we almost always spent the morning in her bed, but it was seldom

just

the 'two orgasms' agreed to. When I arrived, although we both ended up naked quite soon, she seldom was that way when I got there. Sometimes she was in the kitchen wearing her silky robe and drinking a cup of coffee. Other times she'd be parading around in a baby doll, or thong bustier, or similar lingerie. I always liked that, as it proudly displayed her body and tits, but she seemed to think she 'didn't have the body she used to' so didn't like greeting me 'just naked.' It didn't matter, we were always naked before too long anyway.

On Tuesdays, we did it everywhere. On the kitchen table or the living room sofa; sitting in a chair, or in the shower. Once, after I'd gotten particularly dirty and she'd joined me in the shower, she grabbed me and a blanket and dragged me naked into the backyard where we did it on the lawn under the tree. She said that she loved having sex outdoors -- that she and her Robby had regularly had sex in the great outdoors.

She wasn't always there when I arrived to work on her yard on Tuesdays, but most of the time she was there by the time I got done. I'd just go into the garage, get out the equipment and if she were home when I got done, usually we would play.

I'd just finished mowing the lawn, the noise of the mower having blocked my hearing, when I saw her for the first time. I'd turned toward the house to put the mower away when I looked up and found a strange woman sitting in a patio chair, watching me.

"I take it you're Danny?" the woman said when I when I stopped and stood still -- surprised at a stranger in the backyard. "Mary's told me all about you."

"She has?" I answered, not knowing who this woman was, and specifically it intrigued me that she called me by my real name, and not by my pseudonym Brent.

Despite never having seen this woman before, there was something familiar about her. Perhaps the eyes? Maybe the smile? Whatever it was, I almost instantly realized that this must be Mary's sister. No sooner had I made that guess than the kitchen door opened, and Mary stepped out.

"Hey Danny, I see you've met my sister Rachel."

I couldn't remember having ever heard Mary's older sister's name, but instantly remembered how so many things that Mary had taught me about selling sex had been learned from her sister Rachel. Having an anonymous cell phone, always collecting up-front before anything happened, having an excuse of a business to prevent unwanted IRS questions -- I'd never met this woman, but she'd helped me out numerous times, whether she knew it or not.

I'd never had an assessment in my mind of Mary's sister, but that all changed now. Rachel didn't look appreciably older than Mary, maybe even younger, but physically she became more attractive in my eyes the longer I observed her. Just like Mary, she easily passed for 20 years younger than she was. Even though that 20 years younger was still at least 20 years older than me, she could easily turn a head in the mall. She was wearing a shirt and shorts, her bare, and shapely, legs ending in sandals just visible under the table. Her shirt was a form-fitting woman's tee shirt sitting snugly against her breasts. She was wearing a bra that didn't appear to be padded, yet no nipples were showing either.

Her breasts were almost the same size as Mary's, their bodies virtually identical in most respects, and the image that Mary's husband had taken of Mary when she was just married, topless, sitting against a rock in the mountains, popped into my mind. In my mind, I substituted Rachel's face onto that picture and realized that she too, had been a hottie when she was 18. And then I realized that she still

was

a hottie -- just no longer 18, and my age bias was guiding my thoughts.

I'd been bedding and satisfying older women over multiple years now, and even though I was married to the hottest woman that I know -- I didn't normally have any trouble being aroused by older women either. I let my thoughts drift remembering this woman that I was admitting to myself had a nice body, had been a kept woman: an escort, a consort, or any of the other euphemistic names we have for women that provide sex favors for money, virtually her entire adult life.

Just like my wife and me, she'd sold sex; she'd sold her body. Although, if I remembered what Mary had told me, she'd had a few boyfriends over the years that she'd regularly taken care of -- and they in turn had taken care of her. I wondered if she'd ever had a clientele like Robin and I did -- multiple people that we fuck strictly for the money, often just one time and never see them again? I also wondered if she'd ever been in love with any of them -- or had her entire 'business' experience been strictly monetary in nature?

"Danny!" Mary's sharp speaking of my name got my attention and broke my reverie. I looked up to her realizing that she had said my name at least twice. I'd been so caught up in my thoughts, evaluating Rachel and realizing that she was a lot better looking than many of the younger women that had ridden my cock, that my mind had drifted away momentarily.

"Sorry," I grinned at her with chagrin, "I kind of drifted away there. It's been a long day." It really hadn't been all that long, but I used it as an excuse.

"We noticed. I suppose you're ready to take a shower and head for home?" I glanced at my phone to check the time.

"Yeah, I probably should. Get home in time to see Robin before she heads out. She's going to work tonight."

"Oh?" Rachel said, "That's your wife, right? What kind of work does she do?"

I glanced at Mary, which was just enough time for my mind to evaluate that Mary had said nothing about what Robin did -- even though

she

knew. I also suspected that she had told Rachel that I was her lover, her gigolo, strictly from Rachel having said that Mary had told her "all about me."

"She does the same work that I do, and I guess the same as you do. We're both sex workers." I don't know why I didn't pull any punches -- but I knew about her, she knew about me, and we were talking about my wife going to work tonight. She didn't need to know that Robin was going to meet some man and have sex with him before coming home later tonight or in the morning, but it seemed to be nothing I needed to hide from her.

Neither Rachel nor Mary said anything for a moment, caught by surprise at my admission. "Well, I used to," Rachel said. "I retired a few months ago when my..." she paused, obviously searching for a word, "significant other passed away."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, wondering if I'd stepped on hidden feelings. "He wasn't your husband?"

"No. He asked me several times, but I wasn't interested in marrying someone I wasn't in love with. What about you?" she asked after taking a sip from her drink. "Are you in love with your wife?"

"Very much so," I answered, not realizing my face lit up as I thought about her. I glanced at my phone, seeing what time it was. "Speaking of which, she's not working tonight and we're going out to dinner in a couple of hours. I really don't need a shower today," I started, only to be interrupted by Mary.

"Don't be silly," she said, standing up. "You came in clean; we'll send you home to her clean. Come on, let's get you out of here."

I turned toward the shower once we got inside, with Mary heading the other way, saying she'd get me clean clothes and a towel. I told her I hadn't gotten my shirt dirty today, so really didn't need clean clothes, as she stepped away. I thought, with Rachel there, Mary probably didn't intend to shower with me like she often did on Tuesdays, but no sooner had I climbed into the shower and gotten the water adjusted than the bathroom door opened, and just seconds later, the shower door opened and Mary stepped in with me.

We'd long before learned that the small shower wasn't the best for screwing around. Being just a smaller, square, individual shower stall, without a bench of any kind, about the only way to do it in the shower was standing even if we could move around a bit. Whenever we showered together, although we always ended up fucking, we didn't do that in the shower itself.

Sliding in closely behind me, Mary's arms went around me, her hand finding and gripping my cock. Her breasts were pressed against my back, her lips pressing against my back and shoulders and arms. "I want you to fuck me silly," she needlessly whispered, her hand stroking my cock.

"Don't I always?" I answered, ignoring her hands on me. I took the soap and lathered up my chest and pits before slithering down my stomach. I slipped the bar of soap into her hands with, as I expected, her lathering up my cock and pubic hair. Leaning back to let the water rinse me, I turned, sliding her into my place and using the soap on her body. I lathered her breasts, as always, much more than necessary, finding her nipples were already hard before I got there. When I slipped my hand toward her pussy her hands followed and gripped mine, pulling them away.

"Danny, I want you to eat me."

I didn't answer, just reached for the handles, and turned the water off. Stepping out of the shower, I immediately noticed that she had no clothes there -- she must have stripped off in her bedroom and walked naked through the house to join me. One of the towels was folded on the counter, a condom sitting on top, the other in a pile on the floor and I realized that she had probably wrapped it around herself to traverse the house. I had picked up that Mary was feeling amorous this afternoon but hadn't picked up on the reasoning

why

until just then -- realizing that it was because her sister was there. She stooped and picked up her towel to dry off, I took the other -- and as soon as I was dry, I turned to Mary, picked her up, and set her on the counter. She squealed and then giggled, and without saying anything I dropped to my knees, pulling her legs over my shoulders.

I knew just how to please Mary with my mouth and had no problem doing so. I tongued her vagina, tasted her juices, slipped my tongue up and down between her labia, and teased at her clit -- until she reached down two-handed and worked her clit until it popped through the clitoral hood, exposed for me to lick. She didn't need to say anything else -- I went to work and in short order had her quaking in orgasm. I kept her peaked for just a short time before I stood, pressed her legs further apart, and reached for the condom. I tore the package open and let her wipe it onto my cock before I slipped inside her. Despite her not having brought any artificial lube, my oral on her, along with my saliva, was enough. "Oh Fuck, Danny," she said, her legs wrapping behind my butt and trying to pull me in tighter.

Once I was buried inside her, I stopped my movement. When she looked at my face I said, "You want your sister to know I'm fucking you. That you're fucking your gigolo, your stud." I don't know why I said it that way, I'd never referred to myself as her gigolo, or her stud, before -- but yet, somehow, I recognized that this was some type of sisterly bragging.

"Shut up and fuck me," she said. I did.

If there had been any doubt about the way she was bragging to her sister about me, that doubt ended as soon as we were done. I pulled on the clean clothes that she'd brought me, with Mary just standing there naked, waiting. When I was done, she wrapped the towel around herself again, higher than she normally did as it left most of her bottom bare. I presumed it also left her pussy bare, but as I followed her toward the kitchen, just a few steps behind, I couldn't see that. I had no doubt that her parading across the house, clad only in a towel, was to tell her sister that she'd just showered with and been fucked by me.

I stopped in the kitchen to get a drink while Mary headed on across the house toward her room.

"She says you're pretty good, that you really know how to take care of a woman," a voice said.

Turning, I found Rachel in the doorway to the living room, standing and looking at me. I shrugged my shoulders. If Mary wanted to say I was a good lover, so be it, but I wasn't into bragging. "I guess," I finally said, "at least I don't get many complaints."

"You've been good for her."

"I think she's been good for me, too," I responded, once more adding to my appraisal of Rachel. Despite that she was approaching, or maybe already was, 70, she had a great body. Many of the much younger women that I'd been with would be envious of hers. She had a firm stomach with no sign of any flab. Her legs were muscular and fit, her breasts, firm. I knew she had a bra on, but suspected her breasts didn't need all that much support. My appraisal was interrupted by Mary returning, now wearing a shirt and shorts, looking very much like, and almost appearing as a twin for, Rachel. She held out her hand, the pittance of pay for mowing her lawn.

I smiled and said I'd be going when she said, "Rachel is staying the week, so do you think you can come a bit later on Saturday, say 10?"

"Yeah, no problem."

~

It was an unusual start for me, not needing to get up and be somewhere until an hour later than normal, and, I woke up in bed with my wife. Friday nights were her most popular workday, or work night if you will, so usually on Saturdays she'd arrive home about the time I was ready to leave. She'd usually just want to shower and sleep, or at least take a nap, and then Saturday afternoons and evenings unless one or both of us had another date on Saturday night, was the beginning of "Our Time." Neither of us would normally take a gig on Sunday; Sundays were for us. When I rolled over and cuddled up to her, she interpreted that I was feeling a bit frisky, her hand reaching back to stroke me and squeeze my cock. "Mmm," she whispered, "a nice lazy way to start a Saturday."

"Oh babe, don't I wish, but we better not. I've got an appointment in an hour."

"Oh?" she sounded unsure, "I thought you were canceled this morning."

'No, just delayed an hour. But I've got nothing later this afternoon. What about you?"

She hesitated just enough that I sensed her hesitation before saying, "I've got a lunchtime appointment at 11, but I won't be all day either."

"Can I have a date with my wife this evening then?"

"I'd like that."

Despite the unusual start, it otherwise seemed such a "normal" start to the day for a pair of non-normal sex workers. It wasn't until later that I put it all together as to why the day was as unusual as it was.

I'd gotten to where I'd just come into her house through the back door when Mary was expecting me. I knew where the hidden key was, and the biggest surprise was always how Mary would be dressed, or undressed. She said she liked feeling sexy before we started playing, so she usually greeted me in the kitchen wearing something enticing. Everything, lingerie-wise, that she'd ever had while her husband had been alive, I'd seen advertising her body on one Saturday or another. This morning, she wasn't in the kitchen, and I didn't realize that Rachel was still there until I stepped through the kitchen into the living room.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, startled at her sudden appearance. "I thought you were going to be gone." Hearing footsteps, I turned to find Mary stepping into the living room, totally dressed and, obviously, planning on going out.

"No, it's me that's going out," Mary said indicating she'd overheard my words, "and you get to entertain Rachel today. I told her you were $250 per hour with a two-hour minimum. Is that still right?" She stopped, looked at me and I just nodded. I almost took it as an affront, that Mary was setting me up with her sister. She'd advised multiple women about me in the past, but outright making the arrangements, telling her sister what it was going to cost to have me fuck her, wasn't something she'd ever come close to doing before. Especially with not telling me beforehand. My initial ire dissipated almost as soon as it appeared as I realized that Rachel knew all about selling her body, she'd been doing it for half a century.

Mary looked back and forth between Rachel and me, I'm pretty sure she assessed my ire, and then my acceptance, and said, "Ok, I'm leaving. I didn't think this was going to be this awkward, but I'll leave you two alone. I'll see you this afternoon," she said looking directly at Rachel and I saw her wink.

"Well, this is unusual," Rachel said as I turned back to her, having watched Mary leave the room. "Uhm, where do we start?"

"Your sister taught me to collect up front."

"Oh, of course! Forgive me, yes. That's always the protocol, but later in my career... well, it wasn't quite so up-front transactional." It went in my ear, I heard it, but it wasn't until later when I was thinking about it that I realized she was saying that, for her repetitive customers, she had gotten away from charging them upfront. I also suspected that the amounts she collected were much more lucrative than a mere hourly or overnight charge.

I watched as she stepped over to a side table and picked up a waiting wad of bills. Just that slight movement and I saw the gentle wiggle of her breasts. Unlike earlier in the week she was unencumbered by a bra, and when she turned back to face me, I could see the two slight buttons of her nipples protruding through her shirt. Whether her bra earlier in the week had been padded or not, it had hidden those delicate morsels from view.

She handed the money to me, I just slipped it into a pocket without making an attempt to precisely count it.

"This is new for me," she giggled, "I guess I've never

paid

for sex before. Although I haven't had sex that wasn't paid for in 50 years, it's always been my boys that have paid me."

"Really?" I responded. "You haven't had sex except for money in 50 years?"

"I guess it's actually 52 as I turn 70 this year." Doing the math, I realized she must have been 18 when she accepted payment the first time, and this revelation wasn't any different than me, having also been paid for sex the first time when I was 18.

"I was 18 my first time too," I said. Now facing me, I let my eyes drift down to her bosom. An elastic band beneath her breasts formed her shirt to her bust, her pebbled nipples beneath the cloth again catching my eye.

"I know, Mary told me. Were you really a virgin?" I nodded. "Hard to believe a good-looking guy like you was still a virgin at 18."

"Yeah, I was probably what you would call a late bloomer."