Suburban Teenage Gigolo Ch. 01

Author's note: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious and are eighteen years of age or older. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Please vote and leave comments if you enjoyed the story and would like to see it continue.

Suburban Teenage Gigolo

Chapter One

Satisfaction Guaranteed

His mother answered the phone. "It's for you, Johnny."

"Who is it?" Johnny Thompson asked.

"It's about the flyer." The flyer was his mother's idea―an eight-and-half by eleven inch piece of paper that read:

Thompson's Landscape Services

No Job Too Big or Too Small

Satisfaction Guaranteed

At the bottom of the flyer were pull-off tabs with the Thompson home phone number hand-written on them. Johnny had posted the flyer on the community bulletin board at the supermarket where he worked part-time. He hoped it would help him earn enough money to get his car running before he started community college in the fall. Two weeks had gone by since he pinned up the ad on the board, and each day that he was scheduled to work, Johnny would check to see if any of the tabs had been removed. As of yesterday, all of the tabs were still attached.

Johnny lowered his voice, trying to sound more professional, and said into the handset of the phone, which hung on the floral wall-papered wall next to the kitchen, "Thompson's Landscape Services."

"I'm calling about your flyer," a woman's voice responded. "What sort of services do you provide?"

"Mowing, edging, trimming, weeding―whatever you need."

"Whatever I need?" the woman asked; her voice sounded smoky and sultry. "Is that right?"

"Yes, ma'am. You name it, I'll do it."

"Hmm," she said. "May I ask you something, do you have the proper equipment to get the job done?"

"Yes, ma'am. I think I do."

"I see, well let's hope so. How much do you charge?"

Johnny paused. He hadn't thought this part all the way through yet. "It depends on the job."

"How does five dollars sound?" the woman asked.

Five dollars was double the minimum wage and nearly as much as he made in an hour working at the supermarket. "That would be fine."

"How soon can you come by and provide me with your services, Mr. Thompson?"

"Tomorrow morning, if you want."

"How does nine o'clock sound?"

"Sound's great. What's your address?" Johnny scribbled it down on a piece of paper. "I'll see you then. Thanks for calling. You won't be disappointed."

"I certainly hope not," the woman said. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, ma'am," Johnny said and then hung up the phone.

"Did you get the job?" his mother asked.

"Yes, and she's paying me five bucks."

"Wow, you better make sure you do a good job."

"I will," he promised.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Johnny's first client turned out to be his new neighbor who had just moved into the house where the Martins used to live. It was just two doors down the street from his house. He knocked on the front door. No answer. He tried again. Once again, no answer.

Pulling hard on the drawstring of the mower sparked the two-stroke, gasoline powered mower roaring to life, shattering the tranquility of the quiet suburban neighborhood. As Johnny started cutting the grass he had the strange feeling that he was being watched. He glanced up at one of the upstairs bedroom windows where a shadow appeared then quickly disappeared.

The lawn was overgrown, but it wasn't very large, and twenty minutes later Thompson's Lawn Care Services had officially completed its first job. He knocked again on the door. Still no answer.

Johnny headed home, cleaned up, and got dressed for his shift at the supermarket. When he returned home that afternoon his mother told him, "Mrs. Roberts called."

"Who?" he asked.

"Your client, Mrs. Roberts. She said that she was sorry she missed you. She's home now if you want to go by and collect your money."

Johnny was so excited to collect the first payment from his new business venture that he didn't bother to change from his work clothes: black trousers, white shirt, black bow tie. The plan was to frame the five dollar bill and hang it on his bedroom wall for inspiration and motivation. He raced over to Mrs. Roberts' house and knocked on the front door. "Come in," a woman's voice beckoned from inside.

When he entered the house, Johnny saw dozens of unpacked cardboard boxes stacked up haphazardly on the lime-green shag carpeting. "Mrs. Roberts?" he called out.

"I'm upstairs," a female voice answered. Johnny closed the front door behind him and headed up the creaky wooden staircase.

"I'm in here, at the end of the hall," her voice continued. Johnny followed the siren sound to end of the hallway, where a bedroom door was slightly ajar. He tapped softly on it. "Come in," Mrs. Roberts said.

Johnny pushed the bedroom door open and saw Mrs. Roberts lying on her bed, her body concealed beneath the covers, only her arms and bare shoulders were visible. She held a cigarette in one hand and a cocktail in the other. Any man, Johnny included, would consider her to be an attractive woman. She looked a lot like Annette Funicello, with shoulder-length black hair and olive skin. Johnny guessed she was in her late forties, roughly the same age as his mother.

"Are you here for the money?" Mrs. Roberts asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"What's your name?"

"My name is Johnny."

"Good, you've come to the right place. I have something for you, Johnny." Mrs. Roberts put her cigarette and drink down, and pulled back the covers, revealing her completely naked body. Her legs were spread apart and in between them, laying on the bed, just below her pussy, was a ten dollar bill.

Johnny was awestruck. He had never seen a naked woman before. The closest he had ever got was the Ladies Underwear section of the Sears catalog. He desperately wanted to keep staring at her body, but out of respect, Johnny turned his head away.

"Well, don't just stand there. Johhny, come and get it."

"I . . . I . . ."

"What's wrong?"

"I don't have change for a ten, ma'am."

"Well, then I guess you can just earn the rest," Mrs. Roberts said with a wicked grin on her face.

"What?" Johnny asked. "How?"

"With your tongue."

"I . . . I don't understand," Johnny stammered.

"Lick my pussy and make me come, Johnny, and you can keep the rest."

Johnny looked back at her voluptuous, naked body. Mrs. Roberts was a curvy woman with wide hips and thick thighs. Her breasts were large and full, and now sagged a bit from age. Johnny was incredibly nervous; his heart was racing. The woman started stroking her hairy pussy with her fingers. "Come on, Johnny, come over here. Don't be shy."

"What about . . ."

"What about what?"

"What about Mr. Roberts?"

"There is no Mr. Roberts," she said, "not anymore. Come on, Johnny, you did say satisfaction guaranteed, didn't you?

"Yes, but-"

"No buts. I am in dire need of some satisfaction and I expect you to keep your word and your end of the bargain. So come over here and give me what I want."

"Yes, ma'am." Johnny climbed onto the bed and positioned his face in front of Mrs. Roberts pussy, unsure of what to do next.

"Lick it, Johnny!" Mrs. Roberts instructed him. "Lick my pussy!"

Johnny had no idea about how she wanted him to do it, but he was both eager and enthusiastic, too enthusiastic―he assaulted Mrs. Roberts' pussy, furiously, ferociously lapping at it, mistakenly thinking that more equalled better. Mrs. Roberts pushed his head away. "Wow, slow down, tiger, this is not a race."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I've never done this before," he admitted.

"It's okay, Johnny, I understand. Let me teach you. I want you start slowly by sensually licking my lips up and down," Mrs. Roberts said pointing to that area of her pussy. "This part here is my clitoris―it's the most sensitive part of a woman's body. You can tease it a little at first, but don't over do it. When the time comes I'll let you know, and when I do I want you to focus all of your attention on it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Let's try again."

Johnny started pleasuring her pussy again with his tongue, slowly and sensually, as he had been instructed. The scent of her perfume, the sight of her naked body, the sweet, succulent taste of her pussy, were incredibly intoxicating and arousing. Occasionally, he would flick his tongue across her swollen, hooded clit and watch Mrs. Roberts' body writhe and shudder in response.

"That's it, Johnny. You're doing great," Mrs. Roberts said to him. "Take your time. I want to thoroughly enjoy this." Her pussy was dripping wet now, and his mouth and chin were drenched with her juices. Johnny was still clueless about what he was doing, but whatever he was doing seemed to be working―Mrs. Roberts began moaning, softly at first, but gradually growing louder as it went on.

"It's been a long time for me, Johnny," she explained as she combed her fingers through his thick brown hair. "You don't know how badly I need this, how badly I need to come."

Johnny began to wonder how long this would go on for, how much time and how much pleasure it would took to get her off. His questions were soon answered. "Faster," she urged him. "That's it. I'm ready now. Lick my clit, Johnny, make me come." Mrs. Roberts' body tensed and she screamed out, "I'm coming, Johnny. Oh god . . . yes . . . hard coming!"

When it was finally over Mrs Roberts pushed his head away from her sated sex. "Did I do something wrong, ma'am?" Johnny asked.

Mrs. Roberts laughed. "No, nothing wrong," she said, still recovering her breath. "You did everything right, Johnny. You have a very talented tongue. You've earned every single penny," she said and handed him the ten dollar bill.

Johnny stuffed the money into his front right pocket and turned to leave the room.

"Johnny."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I'm afraid I can't send you home to your mother looking like that."

"Looking like what?" Johnny asked, then noticed Mrs. Roberts staring at the bulging erection in his trousers. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to."

"It's okay, Johnny. It's normal and natural, nothing to be embarrassed about. Why don't you take a minute to relieve yourself before you go home."

"Relieve myself?"

"Yeah, you know, masturbate. You masturbate, don't you, Johnny?"

"No, I never have . . . I never have any privacy at home," he admitted.

"We're in private now, aren't we?" she reminded him.

Johnny hesitated. "Yes, but . . ."

"But what?"

"I'm nervous, ma'am. I want to, but I don't know if I can . . . in front of you."

"I understand. Why don't you come over here and let me help you? It's the least I can do after what you've done for me."

Johnny walked over to where Mrs. Roberts was sitting on the edge of her king-sized bed. She undid his polyester work trousers, pulled his hard cock out, and started gently stroking it. "Now, doesn't that feel better, Johnny?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You've never been with a woman before, have you?"

"No, ma'am. How did you know?"

"A woman can sense these things," she said. "It's okay, sweetie. Some people are just late bloomers," Mrs. Roberts told him as she took some of his leaking precum and used it lubricate his rigid erection. "You've got a nice cock, Johnny. All the girls will be chasing after you when news gets around and they find out about it."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"You need to come, don't you, Johnny?"

"Yes, ma'am. Please let me come."

"You've earned it, Johnny. Just relax and let it go." Mrs. Roberts gripped his shaft tighter and started stroking it faster and harder, while she cupped his balls with her other hand. "That's it, Johnny. Come. Come for me!"

Johnny could feel the pressure building up inside of him. He couldn't hold back any longer and succumbed to the intense pleasure. His cock exploded, shooting rope after rope of cum all over Mrs. Roberts' breasts. "There we go. That's it," she encouraged him. "Give me all your cum, Johnny," she said as she milked every last drop from his pulsing, throbbing cock. "Do you feel better now?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."

As he was leaving the room, Johnny noticed the still-intact flyer laying on Mrs. Roberts' dresser.