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Houseboy

By: oskarwild



The Want Ad 

Wanted: Houseboy. Mature (55/52) gay couple seeking live in boy for domestic work. You should be between the ages of 19 and 25. Prefer a short boy of slight build who has no romantic attachments. In exchange for maintaining our household, you will receive room, board and salary. Must be willing to work flexible hours. If interested, call xxx-xxxx after 6 pm. 

Stacy sat and stared at the employment ad. He was at the end of his rope. He had failed to pass two of his college classes and his uncle had cut off his expense money as a result. He had been barely getting by with the earnings from his job at the supermarket, but they were cutting back and his hours had shrunk by half. He simply did not have enough money to support himself. He'd been answering employment ads for weeks now with no success. The 'Houseboy' ad in the local town newspaper sounded good. The only problem being that Stacy was not gay. He liked girls. And even though he was of slight build, he had an attractive face and a nice personality. He had no trouble getting laid. 

But he needed money desperately, so he decided to answer the ad. The worst thing that could happen is that they would say no to him. Stacy dialed and waited nervously while the phone rang. 

"Hello." a deep masculine voice answered. 

"Hi, this is Stacy Warren. I'm responding to the ad that you placed for a houseboy." 

"Oh, yes. Great! We placed that ad two weeks ago and were beginning to think we wouldn't get any response. Do you mind answering some questions over the phone to see if we should go further?" 

"Sure. Fire away." 

"How old are you, Stacy? 

"I'm twenty." 

"Good, good. What is your height and weight?" 

"I'm five-six, about one hundred ten pounds." 

"Sweet. Just the physical profile we're seeking. Do you have any facial hair?" 

"No. I'm clean-shaven." 

"Wonderful! Would you characterize yourself as a hairy person or a smooth person?" 

"Smooth." 

"The primary job duties involve house-keeping. You would be required to dust, vacuum, wash floors, do laundry, clean the kitchen after meals, grocery shop and run general errands. Do you feel you could do all of that?" 

"Yes. And your ad mentions room and board?" 

"Yes. We provide a place for you to sleep and give you all of your meals. The pay is modest, but negotiable." 

"How much personal time off would I get?" 

"Well, by the nature of the job, we just require that your tasks get done and the house be properly maintained. When the job is done, your time is your own." 

"Sounds great." 

"Good, good. Would you like to set an appointment to meet with us and discuss this further?" 

"Yes, but I have to be honest with you about something." 

"And what would that be?" 

"Well, I'm not gay. I mean I'm totally straight." 

There was a lengthy silence while this sunk in. 

"Well, Stacy, you know that my partner and I are gay. We specified that in the ad." 

"Yes, but does that mean you'll only hire a gay guy?" 

"Not necessarily, but it would make it easier for the boy if he were gay." 

"So where do we go from here?" 

"Why don't you come over to our place tomorrow at seven and we can see if this will be workable. My name is Burl and my partner's name is Fran. Let me give you the address." 

The Interview 

Stacy had to take two buses to get to the suburban address that Burl had given him. It was an old, but affluent area with a lot of trees and a lot of room between the houses. Burl's house was a sprawling ranch style house that was probably three thousand square feet. Stacy rang the front doorbell and waited nervously for the door to open. When it did, it revealed a large, middle-aged man with graying hair and bushy eyebrows. Stacy figured that the guy must be six-four and well over two hundred pounds. He was a commanding, almost intimidating presence. 

"Hi! You must be Stacy. I'm Burl." the man said and took Stacy by the arm leading him into the foyer. 

"Fran, honey, come and meet Stacy." Burl called out in the direction of the kitchen as he led Stacy into a large, comfortable living room. 

"Welcome, Stacy. It's so nice to meet you." Fran said and extended his hand. "My, you are an attractive young man. Definitely boy material." 

Fran was smaller than Burl, but still much larger than Stacy. Stacy guessed he was probably around five-eleven and maybe a hundred eighty pounds. Stacy surmised that Fran must be the "wife" in this gay couple and Burl the "husband." Burl led Stacy to a large comfortable couch that could probably seat six people. Stacy sat down near the middle and Fran sat at one end. 

"Would you care for a drink, Stacy?" Burl asked. 

"Sure." 

"Fran loves my daiquiris. Would you care for one?" 

"That would be fine." 

Burl walked over to a portable bar in the room and poured two daiquiris from a shaker and handed one to Fran and one to Stacy. He then poured himself a whiskey and sat in a lounge chair opposite Fran and Stacy. 

"So, Stacy, Burl tells me that you think you're straight." Fran asked, smiling. 

"Well, I am straight." 

"Do you have any prejudices against gays? Are you homophobic?" Fran inquired. 

"No. I have no prejudices. I figure each to his own." 

"Would you have a problem working for a gay couple?" 

"No. I don't believe so." 

"That's good," Fran continued. "In our home, Burl is the man of the house. Of course, we discuss all important decisions. But Burl has the final say. If we employ you, you will ultimately be submitting to Burl's authority." 

"You make that sound ominous." Stacy replied. "If Burl is the final authority, what is your role in the house?" 

"Of course, I work outside the home, just as Burl does. But I do the cooking and bear the responsibility for managing the house. You would be directly submitting to my instructions and commands." 

"I'm not really sure about this." Stacy said uncomfortably. 

"My dear, I think you're scaring young Stacy with all of this talk of commanding and submitting." Burl broke in. "When we placed the ad, Stacy, we envisioned adding someone to our household who could be like a family member. To compare us to a traditional household, I am the father, Fran is the mother, and you would be our boy. I would hope that our relationship could grow into one of love and respect for each other. So, we are concerned with your sexual orientation. You are a very attractive boy. With a little bit of work, you could be quite pretty. But I'm not sure that you will be receptive to any of that. You say that you are straight. Have you ever done anything sexual with a man or boy?" 

"No, never." 

"Then you don't really know how you would react to a male sexual encounter." Burl said. 

"I don't know. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't like it." Stacy answered. 

"Before we hire you, we need to know for sure." Burl said. "Would you be open to a little experiment?" 

"What kind of experiment?" Stacy asked uneasily. 

"A kiss." 

"You want me to kiss one of you?" 

"Yes, Stacy. And if it repulses you, we'll pretty much have our answer and you may make your way home. " 

"And if it doesn't repulse me?" 

"Well, then we'll go a little further in the experiment and see what happens." 

"I don't know. Maybe I should just leave." 

"You need this job, don't you, dear?" Fran asked. "You're here because you've run out of all other options, isn't that right, dear? 

"Yes." Stacy said, resignedly. 

"Then you must not give up on us until you've tried what Burl has suggested. You owe it to yourself to see this through." 

"I . . . I guess you're right." Stacy said quietly. 

Burl smiled and put his drink down. He stood up and walked over to the sofa and sat right next to Stacy putting his arm around the back of the sofa. He rested one hand on Stacy's shoulder and the other on Stacy's knee. 

"Just close your eyes and part your lips and let Burl give you a nice little kiss, Stacy." Burl instructed. "Just relax and let it happen." 

Stacy swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He felt Burl's hand move from his shoulder to the back of his head and could sense the big man's head moving toward him. Burl's kiss was amazingly soft and tender. His thick lips covered Stacy's and slowly massaged his lips. Stacy could taste Burl's breath as Burl lips caressed his. Stacy tried to move back as Burl's tongue gently probed his mouth, but Burl's hand on the back of his head prevented him from breaking contact. The tips of their tongues rubbed together languorously and Stacy opened his mouth wider as Burl's tongue probed deeper. Stacy could feel himself getting aroused as Burl's tongue massaged the length of his own. As Burl hungrily devoured the boy's mouth, Stacy was aware that Fran had moved to the other side of him. Burl withdrew his tongue and broke the kiss. 

"Did that repulse you, Stacy?" Burl asked. 

"No. No." Stacy breathed. 

"Did your body like that?" Burl asked. 

"Yes, Burl." 

"How does he taste, Daddy?" Fran asked. 

"Young and sweet." Burl answered. "Let Frannie taste you, baby." Burl said to Stacy. 

Stacy turned his head to Fran who was smiling devilishly at him. Fran gently caressed his cheek and then covered Stacy's mouth with his own. There was no gentle preliminary this time. Fran dove in and plunged his tongue deep into Stacy's mouth. Stacy moaned as Fran's tongue hungrily lapped at the inside of his mouth. Stacy could feel his cock began to harden in his pants as Fran expertly worked his yielding mouth. 

"That's a good boy," Burl whispered into his ear and then gently bit his earlobe and then licked the ear inside and out. 

Stacy gasped for air as Fran removed his tongue and mouth and gave him that same devilish smile again. 

"You like that, don't you, baby?" Fran asked triumphantly. 

"Yes. I liked it." Stacy admitted. 

"Do you want to experiment further, honey?" Burl asked him. 

"Alright." 

"Take your shirt off, baby." Burl instructed. 

Stacy hesitated, but then began to unbutton his shirt. Fran quickly stripped it off of him when the last button was undone and then ran her hands over his chest and stomach. 

"Oh, look, Burl, he has no hair on his chest or tummy. Isn't that sexy!" Fran exclaimed. 

"Very sexy, Frannie. And look at the cute nipples on his flat little titties. They're larger that most boy's." 

Stacy sat transfixed as Fran and Burl ran their hands over his chest. He gasped as Fran pinched a nipple between her thumb and forefinger. 

"Oh, my god." Stacy moaned as Fran began to roll the nipple between her finger and thumb. 

"He likes it." Frannie said to Burl. "I think he has the makings of a real slut." 

"He just might." Burl chuckled as he pinched Stacy's other nipple between thumb and forefinger. 

"Do you like this, slut?" Fran whispered in his ear as she continued to massage his nipple. 

"Yes, oh, yes, oh, yes." Stacy muttered. 

Then Fran plunged his tongue into the boy's mouth. As Fran frantically frenched him, Stacy could feel Burl's mouth on his chest. Burl licked and bit his nipple and sucked on his little tittie. Stacy squirmed as his cock tented in his pants and began to leak pre-cum into his briefs. Then he felt Burl's hand undo his trouser button and lower his zipper. Stacy moaned as Burl inserted his hand into Stacy's pants and began rubbing his now wet briefs. Fran could feel Stacy's response as the boys tongue lapped wildly at his mouth while Burl stripped him of his pants and shoes and briefs. Burl wrapped his hand around Stacy's little five-inch cock and gave it a squeeze. Stacy moaned with pleasure as Burl slowly fondled him. 

"Look at this cute, little pecker, Frannie." Burl said. 

Fran stopped the kiss and looked at Stacy's cock standing straight and hard as a rock. 

"Ooooh, it's a pretty little cock you have there, slut." Frannie cooed as he stroked Stacy's ball sac and then wrapped his hand around Stacy's throbbing rod. 

"Can I have it first, Daddy?" Fran asked Burl. 

"Yes, darling, you may have it first." Burl answered. 

Stacy could not believe what was happening. This was surreal! Here he was, naked on a couch, kissing men, and having his penis played with. And he was loving it! This couldn't be! But it was and Stacy groaned with pleasure as Fran put his hand on the head of Stacy's cock and drew his foreskin down over his glans exposing the tender flesh underneath. Fran began to lick his cock and Stacy felt himself losing control as Fran sucked his cock into his mouth. As Stacy started to moan, Burl's mouth covered his and his tongue was invading the boy's mouth again. 

Stacy surrendered his body to the sensations that these two men were drawing from it. Burl's tongue had command of Stacy's mouth and Burl's fingers were busy pinching and rolling his nipples. And Fran! Fran was sucking on his rod as if trying to draw the very life essence out of Stacy. Stacy's heart was beating a mile a minute. He had never before experienced the intensity of sensation that these two men were drawing from his body. Then his hips began to buck as the orgasm coursed through his body. Sperm erupted from his cock into Fran's engulfing mouth. Load after load of cum shot out of his cock into Fran's mouth until he collapsed, sated against the couch. 

Fran removed the cock from his mouth and moved up towards Stacy. Stacy's sperm dripped from the corners of Fran's mouth and Stacy could tell that Fran had a load of it in her mouth that she had not swallowed. Fran covered his mouth and Stacy could feel and taste his own life force as their tongues danced together in the fishy fluid. Then Fran removed his mouth and smiled down at Stacy. 

"You really are a slut. A depraved little twink. Now Daddy is going to make you his bitch. Then you will truly be our little slut; our little sissy-slut!" 

"Let's take him to the dining room. The table is the right height for me to fuck him." Burl instructed. 

Fran rose from the couch and took Stacy by the hand and pulled him to his feet. When Stacy stumbled, Fran wrapped his arm around his waist to support him and led him into the dining room. Fran kissed him passionately when they got to the table, plunging his tongue into the boy's mouth. As they kissed, Fran lifted him and sat him on the edge of the table. 

"He's ready, daddy." Fran said. 

Stacy looked up to see Burl standing stark naked. He looked like a huge bear with his hairy legs and arms and chest. Burl was smiling as he stroked his hard, cut cock applying lubricant to it while he stroked. His cock was huge! Stacy figured it must be at least nine inches long and very thick. Stacy realized what was about to happen and began to shake with fear. 

"Please, no, don't fuck me." he pleaded. "Please don't hurt me." 

"It will hurt when I take your cherry, bitch. But you will get used to it. You will learn to love it. You will learn to beg for it." Burl said. 

"Secure him for me, honey." Burl instructed Fran. 

Fran climbed onto the table in back of Stacy and pushed him into a reclining position with his legs still hanging over the edge of the table. Fran secured Stacy's arms above his head, kneeling above him and smiling. Then Stacy felt Burl's hand on his thigh. Burl spread the boy's legs and began to fondle Stacy's cock again with one hand while his other hand went to Stacy's ass. Stacy felt a cold, slimy finger at the entrance to his ass and then groaned as the finger slid in till it was totally buried. Burl then removed the finger and dipped two fingers into the jar of lube. 

"I'm going to coat your insides and get them real slick, baby; so you can enjoy this as much as I will. 

"Oh, please, no!" Stacy pleaded as he felt the two fingers penetrating him. They hurt a bit, but it was bearable. And the pain began to lessen as Burl moved his fingers in and out of his ass, fucking the boy with his two fingers. The pain disappeared as Burl's fingers slid in and out of Stacy's greased ass with ease. Then Burl removed his fingers and moved to the edge of the table. He placed a hand on Stacy's thigh and Fran tightened his grip on Stacy's arms. With his other hand, Burl guided his hard, throbbing meat to Stacy's cherry hole. 

"Oh, please, no, please!" Stacy cried as he felt the head of Burl's cock against him. 

"Please no! It hurts!" Stacy cried out as Burl slowly pushed the head of his cock past the boy's sphincter and into his ass. 

"Aieeee!" Stacy cried as Burl slowly pushed into him. The boy struggled to get free, but could not break Fran's iron grip. 

Stacy began to cry and whimper as he realized that Burl had buried all of his cock inside of him. Stacy gasped as Burl slowly pulled out of him. But Burl stopped short of completely pulling out and then began pushing back in. Tears steamed from the boy's eyes as Burl totally impaled him again. Then Burl began to slowly fuck him. In and out, in and out; pain and tears. 

"Oh, yes, baby. Your pussy is beautiful. Daddy loves your pussy." Burl grunted as he fucked faster and harder. 

Stacy just wanted it to be over. He didn't want to hurt anymore. But as Burl fucked and fucked him, the pain began to subside. Burl's cock was sliding in and out of him with greater ease. Stacy actually began to grind against Burl as Burl fucked him, matching the rhythm of Burl's body. Stacy's body began to relax as he surrendered to the new sensation of this big man's cock inside of him. Fran could feel Stacy's body relax. He loosened his grip on Stacy's arms and bent over the boy and began to lick his nipples and suck on his titties while Burl fucked him harder and harder. 

The intensity of the situation overwhelmed Stacy. He began to make little growling and mewling noises in his throat as Burl fucked him. His own cock began to grow hard again, without Burl or Fran even touching it. 

"Do you love it, baby?" Burl demanded as he increased the rhythm of his fucking. 

"Yes, grwwwaaah." Stacy mumbled. 

"That's it, baby, surrender, baby, let go!" Burl commanded. 

"Mewwwwgrrrrtpptmm!" Stacy babbled incoherently as he felt Burl stiffen and temporarily stop inside of him. 

"Take it, baby! Take my cum! Be my bitch!" Burl screamed as the spasms coursed through his body and he spewed his cum into the boy's new pussy. Burl came again and again and again filling the boy totally till his spunk began to leak out onto the dining table. 

Stacy was making unintelligible sounds as his own cock spewed its cum onto his chest and thighs. He was no longer thinking. He was just a mass of incoherent sensation. Stacy slumped back against the table. As Burl pulled out of him, he felt Fran's lips at his ear. 

"Now it's mommy's turn, baby girl." Fran hissed. 

Fran let go of Stacy's arms and quickly shed his clothes. Fran took a great gob of lube and lathered it over his cock. His cock was not as big as Burl's monster. It was maybe seven inches and thin. But it was hard as a rock and pulsing with life as Fran positioned it at the entrance to Stacy's new pussy. 

"Take it all, slut!" Fran sneered as he slid his rod into Stacy in one long stroke. 

Stacy began to make gurgling sounds as Fran enthusiastically fucked him. 

"I'm going to cum in you, you faggott! I'm going to seed your little sissy-girl pussy! Fran panted as he slid in and out of Stacy. 

As Stacy continued to gurgle, Burl's mouth covered his and Burl's tongue teased and devoured him. Stacy began to tremble as Fran started cumming inside of him. 

"Ahhhh!" Fran screamed as he pumped his cum into Stacy's pussy. The combined spunk of Burl and Fran was now leaking out of Stacy onto the table and floor. And then, with one violent thrust, Fran was emptied. He slumped on top of the boy. 

"Oh, daddy, he has such a nice, tight little pussy. I want to keep this one, daddy. Can we keep him, please?" Fran urged. 


Houseboy for Hire Pt. 01



A two part story of a man whose lucrative business evolves into a true vocation. As with most of my stories it develops slowly, and I hope readers will stick with it into the second part.

*****

Rory retrieved the key from under the third flower pot and let himself in the back door. He had a similar working arrangement with most of his clients, so that they wouldn't have to be bothered letting him in every time, or even have to be home when he was there. He made his way down the hall to the kitchen where he found Mr. Givens seated at the kitchen bar drinking his coffee and reading the morning paper.

"Good morning Mr. G." Rory offered up with a bright smile.

Mr Givens looked up. "Oh, good morning Rory. It's Monday isn't it, and you're here bright and early as always. I'm afraid Mrs. Givens is still in bed, and we had quite a busy weekend so we haven't had a chance to straighten up much and the place is a bit of a mess."

No more so than usual, Rory thought, but after all that's what kept him gainfully and lucratively employed.

"No problem Mr. G. That's what I'm here for."

Mr. Givens smiled back. "I guess that's true. In any case, try to do some of the quieter cleaning first while the Missus is still asleep."

"Sure thing Mr. G,"

Rory was a professional housekeeper, a Houseboy for Hire, as his listing and ad on Craig's List proclaimed. He had started his business six years prior, soon after graduating from college, almost as a lark, mostly because at that time he didn't know what else he wanted to do with his life, and also because he was good at and actually even enjoyed housework, having had a great deal of experience with it growing up. Except for laundry. He hated doing laundry, even his own, which tended to often pile up in his apartment over time. He always made it clear up front with prospective clients that laundry would not be part of his services.

He had been quite frankly surprised at how well and rapidly his business had taken off after he had place what was still his one and only ad and listing.

"Houseboy for Hire. Allow me to expertly and efficiently take care 

of most of your domestic needs. Weekly or Bi-weekly." 

He had thought his early success was likely in part due to the novelty. But his good natured boyish charm and personality, along with his 6' 3" athletic and nicely muscled frame and good looks, also helped to endear him to many prospective clients, especially the women, who invariably were the ones who did the hiring. After that, the fact that he turned out to be very good and conscientious at the job always helped to seal the deal.

And he wasn't cheap. From the very start he had believed that if he wasn't going to make a decent living out of it then what was the point. This had cost him some early potential customers who had balked at his price, but he had gotten some, and when word of mouth, and reviews on the web spread, he fairly quickly built up a thriving concern. He worked two four hour sessions, 8am to noon, and 1pm to 5, Monday through Friday. Most clients used him for one regular four hour session a week, although a few alternated with other clients on a bi-weekly basis. He charged $200.00 for each four hour session, making it a point to always have his weekends off, and allowing himself two weeks off every year for vacation. With the full Monday to Friday schedule usually filled, as it had been for the past number of years, he was making at base $100,000 a year, and that didn't include his frequent tips and holiday bonuses.

Of the former of those, the most frequent and generous come from a more intimate service he had begun to provide for a few of his clients. They were always the first to approach him in this regard, but he always made sure to make it seem that he was equally desirous. And he was never so crass as to suggest that money should in any way be involved. It was just an extra for both parties to enjoy, even as he did always appreciate the larger than usual tips that came his way after. It also helped to keep his own libido well satisfied, even as he was in no other ways engaged by any of it. He currently had three clients with whom he regularly provided this service, and two others on occasion.

After Mr. Givens had left for work, Rory set about to begin his chores, quietly as he had been instructed. He washed and dried and then put away the accumulated number of dirty dishes and pots and pans that lay around the kitchen, as well as the full stack of clean ones still in the dishwasher. He then proceeded to sweep and then mop the kitchen floor before moving on to pick up, dust and polish in the living and dining rooms. He was careful to not make too much noise, although he knew that Mrs. Givens would likely be up soon enough. As he had come to expect, at about 10 o'clock she appeared at the door of her bedroom, wearing a long white silk robe. She did not look in any way disheveled as someone who had just risen from bed. Her hair was carefully combed and brushed, and make up had already obviously been applied to her face. Upon seeing her Rory gave her his best nice boy smile.

"Good morning Mrs. G. You look lovely as always this morning."

Mrs. Givens grinned back. "Why thank you Rory. It's wonderful to see you again to start the week." she purred, and then started to turn back into her bedroom. "Could you come in here for a moment? There's something I need you for."

"Of course Mrs. G." he replied as she led him into the room. Once he was inside she stopped at the foot of her bed, and with her back still to him she slipped off her robe and let it fall to the floor, revealing her to be fully naked beneath. 

Mrs. Givens was one of his regulars.

In her late forties she was reasonably attractive, if a bit short and plump. Rory clearly knew what to do next. He ambled over behind her and placed his arms around her, cupping her ample breasts in his hands. Slowly massaging them for a time he then lightly played with her nipples between his fingers as she leaned more fully back into him. He then moved one of his hands softly down her belly, eventually finding her patch of hair below. He let his fingers gently caress the outside of her slit which was already well wet. Using two of his fingers he spread her distant lips apart, searching for and discovering her button of joy which he began to brush to and fro with one finger, as the other probed more deeply within. She began to sway, groan and buckle in his grasp.

Finally she could take no more and suddenly pulled away and turned around, dropping to her knees before him, rapidly undoing the front button and zipper of his pants and pulling them and his boxers down as he rose fully and firmly in front of her.

"Oooh, you're so big." she crooned.

Rory had never considered his six inches, while thick, to be overly endowed, and he wondered idly at that moment about Mr. Givens in that regard. Mrs. Givens wasted no time, hungrily enveloping his entire manhood within her mouth, and began to furiously deep throat him. He would have preferred a more delicate touch and slower pace, but he didn't find the process entirely unpleasing, especially as he still had work to finish when they were done, and he also had a new client to meet that afternoon and he didn't want to be late for that. He let her have at him as such for another minute before leaning forward and gently lifting her up and courteously positioning her on her back on the bed.

"That was really very nice Mrs. G, but I think I know what we both want more."

Mrs. Givens grinned up at him, pulled up her knees and spread her legs wide in ready anticipation. Rory slipped off his pants completely, pulled off his tee shirt, and quickly put on an ever available and expected condom. He then knelt up onto the bed between her legs and penetrated her. In this position he could more readily control the rate and rhythm, but she made her own demands clearly apparent.

"Harder Rory. Fuck me harder."

He strove diligently to please.

"Keep going. Keep going. Keep going." she panted.

And he did.

"Don't stop ... Please, please don't stop." she pleaded

And he didn't. One of Rory's many talents in this realm was that he could usually last quite some time, especially when his mind was occupied with what chores he still had to do when this was done, and what his schedule would bring later that day,

"I'm coming Rory, I'm coming" she shrieked. "Oh God I'm coming so much."

Rory took this as a cue and invitation for his own release, and with one final deep thrust and a low guttural groan, he came himself, accompanied by even louder screams from Mrs. Givens.

In a few moments it was over, and he slipped out and onto his side next to her. Taking a few more moments for them both to collect themselves, he finally spoke,

"You're the best Mrs. G."

She beamed up at him. "Do you really think so?"

"Without a doubt." he confirmed.

She sighed contentedly, and after another minute he began to get up.

"I hate to have it end so quickly, but I still have to vacuum before I go." he said. "And I have a new client I have to be on time for this afternoon."

"I understand." she answered. "I'm going to stay here and rest a bit longer." she added. "Don't worry about making the bed. I'll do it after you leave."

He gave her another huge smile.

"As I said Mrs. G. You're the best."

Rory quickly dressed and got out to finish the rest of his morning's work. He certainly wouldn't shirk or scrimp on his primary responsibilities. This was his livelihood and he was a professional and proud of it. This other service, for those that asked and wanted it, was just an extra, a nice little aside and benefit for both parties.

He vacuumed the three rooms that needed it, then finished dusting, polishing and tidying up so that by noon everything, except the unmade bed which Mrs. Givens had promised to take care of, was clean and immaculate. He had not seen Mrs. Givens again, but did find the envelope with his check for the morning session on the dining room table, along with, as was written on the outside of the envelope 'a little something extra for all your good work.' He smiled , pocketed the envelope and made his way out the back door, placing the key under the flower pot as he left for his car, and to make his way to the afternoon session with the new customer.

For the past four years, Rory had always been able to maintain a full weekly schedule of clients. He would lose an occasional one when they would move away, and twice when the customers, after a time, thought that he was a bit too expensive. More often some clients would insist that they needed him more than once a week, which he would always politely refuse, indicating that it wouldn't be fair to his other customers who filled all of his slots. Most accepted this status quo, not wanting to lose him completely. He had lost a few clients along the way who had truly needed more time, but this never posed a problem for him. From word of mouth, and regular continuing queries to his web listing, he had a healthy waiting list of prospective clients, which he now had to utilize far and far less often.

The Monday afternoon slot was the first one that he had had to fill in over six months, but the client he was going to meet now for the first time had not been on his waiting list. He was taking her on at the behest of Mrs. Franklin, one of his earliest clients, and who had been extremely helpful in the beginning in helping him find a number of new customers. When she had recently asked if he could now help a friend of hers in dire need of housekeeping help, when this slot had opened he felt that he couldn't and shouldn't refuse her.

He didn't know much about this new person other than her name, Rhianne Ross, and that she lived alone in a house on the far side of town. Most of Rory's clients were married couples, although he did have a few older widows who lived by themselves, and one elderly spinster who treated him like the doting grandmother that he had never had. He wondered which of these two likely categories this new client fell into. He had only communicated with her via email, once that address had been supplied by Mrs. Franklin, to set up this day's appointment and session.

It took him the better part of his lunch hour to find on his GPS and get to her house, which was on the opposite end and well outside the town. It was at the end of a small cul-de-sac and up a fairly long driveway. It was effectively hidden from the road by a large number of trees, but opened up at the top of the driveway to reveal a reasonably sized lawn area and hedges, all of which he noted were not very well maintained. That was not a concern for him though, as he only ever contracted for inside housework. The house itself was two stories with an attached garage, and was pleasant enough appearing, though in some areas looking to be needing some upkeep and repair.

He made his way to the front door, probably the last time to be entering this way he mused, and rang the doorbell. He waited patiently for well over a minute. When no one answered he wondered how long he should wait before ringing again without seeming rude or impatient, particularly as hired help. After more than two minutes he thought that perhaps she hadn't heard the first ring, and maybe he should finally ring again. Just as he was about to do so the door opened. 

Standing in front of him was a young woman about his own age, probably in her late twenties. She was tall for a woman, at least 5' 11", and had long reddish brown hair, now pulled back into a pony tail with a scrungie. She wore no make up, and for some reason he instinctively surmised that she rarely if ever did. Nor that she would need to. It would have added nothing, indeed would likely detract from what he could already see as an almost pristine and natural allure, with just a hint, he sensed, of a possible darker mystery. Slim and athletically built she was wearing long track warm up pants, running shoes, and a dark blue tee shirt. She remained there looking at him intently, waiting.

After several silent moments Rory was the first to sally forth. He flashed his brightest, genuine, 'it's a great pleasure to meet you' smile and broke the ice.

"Hi, I'm Rory, the houseboy for hire. I believe we've been communicating by email and set up this appointment for today." If, in actuality she was the customer. He had never before had a client his own age. Indeed, he had never had one within ten years of his age.

"Ah, yes." she responded. "I'm Rhianne Ross." confirming the fact. "You're the person Dolores Franklin so highly recommended. Come in and we'll talk first." 

With that she turned and walked away, and he entered and closed the door behind him. As he followed her from behind he was impressed by how she moved with such a lithe and confident grace. She led him into a living room and sat down at the end of a long sofa. She then indicated that he should sit across from her. The only chair there was a big overstuffed easy chair with a hassock in front, and he didn't think that as the new houseboy it would seem right for him to settle back into the easy chair, so he sat on the edge of the hassock, facing her. She appeared to find that appropriate.

This time she was the one to speak first, and did so with a reserved smile, which nonetheless he found quite charming.

"Mrs Franklin has certainly extolled your abilities and I hope she is right." she began. "I work from home, and I'm also a bit of a homebody. But I'm also not much of one for housework so I need someone to tidy up and put and keep this place in reasonably good order. Do you think you're up to that task?"

He once again summoned up a big, boyish smile. "It's what I do, and I promise you I'll always do my best." he assured her. "And I do most everything that deeds doing inside the house," he continued, "except for laundry." he concluded, just to make that clear from the very beginning.

"Yes, Dolores did mention that." Her smile curved up slightly more. "I'm sure that's something we can take care of."

He nodded back in return.

"Well, I think that settles everything for right now," she said after they had chatted a while longer, "and I have to get back to work, and you need to get started. So if there's nothing else, let's both get to it." She then stood up and he hopped up quickly in response.

"Yes ... Ma'am." He hadn't been sure at that moment how to refer to her. Miss Ross or Miss R just didn't seem quite the right way to answer to somebody his own age, and yet she was an employer and an amount of respect for that needed to be somehow acknowledged, so in that instant he had come up with 'Ma'am'. She seemed to accept and be satisfied with that. She nodded and left the room without another word.

After she had left him to his tasks Rory did a quick survey of the house and discovered that she had not exaggerated the general state of disarray. In every room he found innumerable items strewn all about and seemingly just left where they had last been used. There had obviously been no serious housecleaning in quite some time, and he realized that it was going to take far more that one session to restore the entire place into some semblance of order. He decided to attack the most serious areas first, starting in the kitchen with the piles of dishes, pots and pans that needed to be washed and put away. He scrubbed down the sink, oven, stove and counters, and rearranged neatly all of the cabinets. This left him with just enough time to scour and clean the two bathrooms in the house, leaving the porcelain toilets, tubs and sinks sparkling, and the tiles of the walls and floor gleaming. He worried though that she might be upset that he had only gotten to these three rooms, but she said very little as she handed him his check for that first day as he left, other than that she would see him the following Monday.

Arriving the next week he decided to work on her bedroom first. After changing the linens and making her bed, wondering as he did whether she ever did so herself, he then tackled her clothes closet, finding the floor piled with a jumble of mismatched shoes, slippers, sandals and boots, the hanging clothes jammed together indiscriminately, many half on and half off the hangers, and the shelves above a morass of sweaters, scarves and boxes. It took him the better part of three hours to get it all in some civilized order, before going back to the kitchen and bathrooms, which after a week again needed some major attention, although no where near as much as the week before. It took him two more sessions to fully attend to the rest of the house, including cleaning , dusting, and polishing the furniture in the living room, her study, her work out room, and the apparently little used dining room and extra bedroom.

Every week he would have to spend some time in the kitchen, bathrooms and her bedroom, but by his second month on the job he had things well enough in hand and order that he could get to every room during every session. It also seemed to him as time went on that things were not quite as messy from week to week, and that she might be making some small effort to keep things in more reasonable order in the times between his coming. He did notice every week however that her laundry hampers were always overflowing, and he wondered how often she ever got to those.

Rhianne was always present when he was there, although they seldom interacted except to say hello and goodbye, or if she had a special housekeeping 'request', which he always attended to immediately. She would occasionally grace him with a pleasant smile, something he began to look forward to more and more. She spent most of her time in her study on her computer, apparently working at her job, whatever that was, information of which she never volunteered. Sometimes though she would exercise in her work out room, either running on her treadmill or using her stairmaster. Rory made it a habit when she did so, to walk by the open door of the room as often as he could manage, to cast long glances at her from behind as he did so. He would find himself mesmerized by her long perfectly proportioned legs flowing so fluidly and effortlessly over the churning treadmill track. When not in her workout top, shorts and shoes, she was usually casually dressed in tee shirts, cutoffs and sandals, her hair either in a pony tail or a bun, but sometimes enticingly hanging loose and long over her shoulders,




Houseboy for Hire Pt. 01



He especially enjoyed the times when he would tidy up her study while she was working there. She would always be so engrossed in her computer activities that she would hardly notice him, and he would take advantage of that by gazing at her for longer periods of time. He was particularly drawn to the delightful way that she would dangle her sandal from the front of her foot as she typed away on her keyboard. He soon realized that despite the paucity of their verbal interaction, he was beginning to be quite taken by her.

Indeed, his Monday afternoon sessions there rapidly became the highlight of his week, even far more so than the intimate time he spent with his regulars several times a week. He began to fantasize, often while he was there and even more when he wasn't, that she might ask for and avail herself of this extra 'services' as well. He wondered to himself of course whether she had a boyfriend, or even a special girlfriend, but he never saw or heard any evidence of either, so his own hopes in this regard continued to grow. It wasn't something he could comfortably suggest however. It had to come from her, as it always had from all of the others, only in this case he would want it as much as she. All he could think to do was to make himself as dependable and indispensable as possible, and have it be readily apparent that he was available in any way that she might want and desire.

It was shortly after he had been working for her for more than three months that Rhianne surprised him as he was about to leave one afternoon by asking if she might have a word with him.

"Sure, Ma'am." he readily replied.

Once again she led him into the living room and sat down on the end of the couch, as he perched himself on the edge of the hassock. He waited.

"Rory," she finally began, "I'm not usually one to say things like this, but I hope you know how much I appreciate the wonderful job you do for me here, putting and keeping this place in order."

He was used to frequently receiving compliments about his good work, but never before had one given him such a thrill.

"You've helped make my house into a home, a place I actually now enjoy living in." she continued, but then paused, before, "But I've also come to realize that I need much more."

His heart leapt. Could his ever growing fantasies actually be coming real? Could she finally be wanting to use him for more 'personal' activities, as had been playing out in his mind almost constantly?

"What is it that you might want, Ma'am?" he asked almost shyly, with his ever boyish charm.

She looked at him expectantly, with a small smile, before proceeding.

"I think I'll need at least three afternoons a week, say Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Monday can continue to be for general housecleaning, Wednesday for outside grounds maintenance which the place really needs, and Friday can be devoted to the laundry. I think we would then have things fully in control."

Rory stiffened, stunned. Outside maintenance? He was no landscaper. Laundry? Hadn't they been clear that he didn't do laundry. And he never worked more than one session a week for any client, although that might be much more enticing in this case. Still, laundry!?!? He hated laundry!!

"Well Rory ..." she prodded.

He had to buy some time to think.

"I ... I ... I've got a full schedule of clients every week." he stammered out in reply.

She sighed.

"I was afraid of that." She frowned. " I was really hoping that you'd be able to accommodate me, you do such good work that I wanted to offer it to you first. But I do have some people that have become available for those three days, who can handle all of my required services, and I don't want to lose the opportunity to get them."

"NO." he blurted out almost involuntarily. "Give me some time, Ma'am, please." he continued in a rush. "Maybe I can work something out."

She waited a beat.

"Okay Rory. But I really have to know now. Today. These people are probably in great demand."

"A couple of minutes then. Let me make some calls."

She nodded pleasantly. "You can use my study."

Rory got up and took out his cell phone as he made his way to her office. His Wednesday afternoon clients were the Whites, and he had never particularly cared for Mrs. White, as she never seemed to have anything nice to say about anything or anybody. He might have dropped them as clients long ago except for his deeply held tenet that one never burned bridges under almost any circumstances. Still, in this case, it really would only be a one time occurrence, he reasoned. He called her and told her that an opportunity had come about that he couldn't pass up, and that he wouldn't be able to work for them anymore. As he expected, Mrs. White was less than happy, calling him unprofessional and irresponsible for leaving them in the lurch so suddenly like this. Although that severely wounded his professional pride, at least Wednesday afternoon was taken care of.

His Friday afternoon clients, the Thompsons, were much more problematic. Mrs. Thompson was one of his 'regulars', and the one he enjoyed playing with the most as she, a devotee of the Kama Sutra, could be quite inventive in her intimate activities. He certainly didn't want to give that up entirely. He got her on the phone, explained the situation about the professional opportunity that he had to pursue, and offered to come in on Saturdays for her.

"But Rory, my husband is home on Saturdays." she answered. "I don't see how that could work."

His heart sank. "I'm sorry Mrs. T, but it's the best I can do. I just have to take this position." he responded forlornly. 

There was a long silence on the other end, before, "Well, I guess I can encourage him to play golf more often. It'll have to be Saturday afternoons though. We sleep late on weekends."

"Thanks Mrs. T, you're the greatest. I owe you."

"Yes you do, and I'm going to make sure that you pay up appropriately whenever we're able to now."

"You can count on it." he replied roguishly as he hung up. Now both afternoons were open, and he made his way back to the living room to inform the waiting Rhianne.

"Excellent." she responded as he told her, and she flashed him a most dazzling smile, which practically melted his soul. "I was really hoping that you'd be able to work it all out." She stood up and handed him his check for the day. "On Wednesday you can mow the lawn and trim the hedges. They're long overdue for that. I believe that the laundry can wait just a little bit longer until you get to it on Friday." She gave him another big smile. "I'll see you then." she concluded in dismissal as she left the room.

Rory was in a daze as he drove home that evening. Just what all had he gotten himself into. Landscaping. And Laundry. It was unbelievable. On the plus side though, he would be there with her that much more often, have that many more opportunities to ingratiate himself with her. So far she had shown no inclination to interact with him in any other way than as the hired help, and he was beginning to realize just how much he wanted her to do so. To see him in a wholly different and more personal way.

He returned on Wednesday afternoon and made his way into the small shed at the edge of the property where he had never before ventured. There, thankfully, he found that she had a power lawnmower, old enough that it probably had been left over from the previous owner and sold to her with the property. He was not so lucky with the hedge clippers, which were of the manual variety. Both were in dire need of cleaning and maintenance, but that would have to wait for another Wednesday, as the grass was markedly overgrown, and the many bushes all appeared wild and unkempt. He spent the entire afternoon mowing and trimming, then raking and collecting all the cuttings which he then deposited deep inside the woods. He didn't finish until well after six.

Friday was his first laundry day, and he found not only the two overflowing as usual laundry hampers, but two other full laundry bags leaning outside them, along with three plastic laundry baskets filled with dirty linens and towels. He knew that he was never going to like or enjoy doing this particular job, but he vowed to himself to approach it with his usual professional efficiency and zeal. After carrying it all down to the laundry room in the basement, he began first by sorting the colors from the whites, and the delicates from the wash and wear. He then began an assembly line process with one group going into the washer, then into the dryer when done while the next load went into the washer, and then folding and putting away the first load as it came out of the dryer. He continued this sequence throughout the entire afternoon, saving all the clothes that needed to be ironed to do the end. Once again he didn't finish until over an hour past his usual leaving time.

On those first two days Rory hardly saw his employer, but over the next several weeks that began to slowly change. She began to sometimes engage him in at least short conversations when their paths might cross, and she also began to grace him with more frequent smiles, some of the dazzling variety which would almost always buckle his knees. He also had the opportunity to observe her more often, which he tried to do as discreetly as possible, although she would occasionally catch him doing so, producing from her a different type of smile. He grew to love the way that she would idly twist strands of her hair around her finger as she read from her computer screen, or would unconsciously chew on the eraser end of her pencil before jotting down some notes. And, of course, how her sandal would dangle and bob from the edge of her foot as she keyboarded on her computer.

This all served to heighten the yearning tension that was building within him more and more, day by day, which he tried to salve and dissipate with his ongoing trysts with his regulars. He found himself enjoying those less and less however, unless while doing so he could imagine himself doing it with her. When successful in that regard, his partners at the time could only assume that his increased energy and ardor must certainly be due to them. But it couldn't go on like this. In some way, any way, he felt that he had to induce Rhianne to respond to his desire. If not ... well ... he didn't know what.

Just as he was approaching the six month mark in her employ, as he was finishing up with that weeks's laundry one Friday afternoon, Rhianne indicated that she wanted to speak to him. After seating herself on her usual spot on the sofa, and he on the edge of the hassock, she began this time without any delay.

"Rory, let me start again by saying how extraordinary and exemplary I continue to find all of your efforts here to be."

The same thrill as before coursed through him.

"I really enjoy working for you, Ma'am."

An accepting smile.

"I'm very glad to hear that."

Her face now became serious.

"But I think that even you would have to admit that you're extremely expensive, and at three times a week it's causing a bit of a financial drain."

Now he felt a jab of concern.

"And so I thought that we might find another way to compensate you for your services."

Rory's heart began to hammer. Could this be it? His dreams with her finally coming to pass? With all of the others it had always been an extra service he supplied when asked, for no additional charge except for the frequently offered bonuses or tips. But for her ... for this ... he would happily consider a significant reduction in his regular rates.

"What is it that you're suggesting Ma'am?" he put forth cautiously

She gave him a very discerning smile.

"I believe that I read people very well Rory. It's a very important part of what I do for a living. And I think I have truly come to understand you, the real you, and what you really want and need."

Oh please let that be true, he pleaded within.

"I've seen your hints and unraveled your clues, and have come to the firm conclusion that instead of giving you a check like this every week," she said, holding it up for him to see, "I propose a very different recompense for your services." She now offered him a most inviting smile, "Every Friday, when you're done with your work for the week, I will reward you with a gift of myself by allowing you to ..." She paused once more, as he held his breath, 

"... kiss my foot." 

Rory felt as if all of that breath had been driven out of him. Was this a joke? She couldn't be serious, could she? There was no possible way.

Her voice became stern

"But you must understand Rory that this offer is non negotiable. If you do not feel that it would be payment enough for your efforts here, then I will give you your check for this week and we will part ways amicably. For good."

A surge of panic shot through him. This was all beyond the pale. How could she even believe. Almost of their own volition his eyes strayed to her crossed leg and then down to her foot, where her pump dangled from her toes so enchantingly.

"Well Rory, what do you say?"

Unable to force his eyes away, his mind struggled furiously to find a way to phrase his refusal. But his mouth, directed entirely from somewhere else deep within him, as if without any conscious control, uttered forth one barely audible word. 

"Feet." he whispered.

"What was that, I couldn't quite hear." she responded.

Still seemingly independent of his brain, his voice grew stronger, though still ragged and hoarse. 

"Feet." he repeated. "I be allowed to kiss both of your feet."

She laughed, a delighted and delightful, completely uninhibited laugh, which sounded to him as if it came from heaven itself. He jerked his eyes upward to be greeted by one of her dazzling smiles.

"I said that there would be no negotiations, but I do think that we can accommodate that. Okay then Rory, are we in agreement?" she asked pleasantly. "That as full compensation and reward for all of your work and weekly service here, on Fridays when you're done you will be allowed the honor and privilege of kissing BOTH of my feet." 

This time he could only nod.

"Fabulous. I'm so pleased that we were able to work this out. I didn't want to lose you. And to celebrate I feel that we should start right away by ripping up this check, don't you think?"

Again, only a nod.

With a triumphant smile she lifted up the check and tore it in two. As she did so he felt as if a long held facade to his inner self and core was being ripped open as well, and that he was now exposed and laid bare before her.

Rhianne uncrossed her leg and let her dangling pump fall to the floor. She then extended her foot forward, pointing it directly at his very being. As if drawn by a magnet Rory rose off the hassock, took two unsteady steps, and fell to his knees before her.

He gazed down at her still pointed foot. Its perfectly pedicured and painted toenails and smooth slim beauty captivated and commanded him onward, and he knew without any doubt at that moment that he was exactly where he belonged. He reached down and cupped her heel in one hand and cushioned her sole with his other, and slowly leaned down to bring his lips delicately to the top of her foot. 

It was so soft. And its scent, a hint of her lavender foot creme with a touch of leather left behind by her pump, all mixed with that of her own moisture, was totally intoxicating. He let his lips linger as long as he dared, finally lowering her first foot to the floor, and then took up her second, bringing his face down to worship that one as well.

This time he did not have the strength to end the communion, and it was Rhianne who finally broke the contact, gently pulling her foot down to the floor. She then slipped both of her feet back into her pumps and stood up in front and above him.

"I'll see you Monday afternoon ... houseboy."

With that she walked away.

Rory, unmoving and still bowed forward, his knees as if rooted to the ground, his eyes continuing to stare at the spot on the floor where her feet had just been, remained behind.

Utterly enthralled.



Houseboy for Hire Pt. 02



For the next several weeks Rory worked and lived as if nothing had changed. But of course everything had. His income had been cut by over a quarter, but for reasons he couldn't yet fully comprehend he still felt as if he had come out ahead of the game. This was not only due to his Friday afternoon reward, which continued to be as electric as the very first, but also be because Rhianne began gifting him with longer conversations and more frequent smiles. Of all varieties.

He was becoming more wired every day that he was there, and more on edge whenever he wasn't. Almost of necessity he continued his now even more vigorous couplings with his regulars, and having to spend ever more frequent 'special' times with his one hand, especially on Friday nights after he would leave.

One Friday afternoon, about a month into their new arrangement, after he had completed his day's work washing and drying, then ironing, folding and putting all that week's laundry away, he sat on the edge of the living room hassock anxiously but patiently awaiting her arrival for his weekly reward. When she finally entered he was surprised to see her in her exercise outfit, having apparently just finished a work out, which she rarely did in the afternoons and never before on a Friday.

"Rory, I'm sorry," she began, "I had a very important deadline to meet for my work today so I pushed my workout back to this afternoon, completely forgetting about your reward, and now I'm sweaty, tired, and my feet ache because I ran a lot longer and harder on the treadmill today than usual. So if you'd rather postpone your reward until Monday, I'll understand."

"No!" he exclaimed ... "Please Ma'am, I'd rather not." He paused a moment. "But if your feet ache, I'd be more than happy to help out and massage them for you first."

"Why, what a lovely idea." she acknowledged with one of her dazzling smiles. "I think I would like that very much."

She immediately made her way over to the sofa, sat down and settled back into it and extended one of her legs out in his direction, parallel to the floor. He scurried off the hassock onto his knees in front of her, unlaced and took off first the offered running shoe, and then bent down and did the same for the other. He followed that by removing both of her sweaty socks, and took her first foot back into his hands. It was indeed warm and damp. He began to slowly knead her sole firmly and deeply with his thumbs, beginning with her heel, working his way all around and into her arch, then to the ball of her foot before paying prolonged and special attention to each of her toes. He then performed the same service to her other foot, alternating the deep circular pressure of his thumbs on her soles, with lighter strokings with his other fingers along the tops.

During the entire time Rhianne lay back comfortably with her head resting on the back of the couch pillow and remained silent except for some contented sighs and murmurs as Rory continued the process a number of more times with each foot. Finally, after about thirty minutes, she sat up, placing both of her feet on the floor.

"That was truly heavenly, Rory. I think I would very much like to have you do that more often."

"It would be my very great pleasure any time Ma'am."

"I do believe I'm going to take you up on that on a regular basis." she responded. She then leaned back and lifted one of her feet in front of his face, that bottom facing him. "Take as much time as you wish with your reward tonight, houseboy. You've earned it."

Rory hesitated only a moment before burying his face into her sole. He found that her foot's normal scent, now mixed with her workout sweat, while different, was every bit as intoxicating as always. Holding it pressed there for more than a few seconds he then followed the pathway of his massage, placing his lips softly around her heel and slowly kissing and lightly licking his way up the side and instep to the ball, and then offering his adoration to the bottoms of each of her toes. He continued his homage around to the tops of her toes and foot, and then paid the same veneration to her other foot.

Finally, overwhelmed and overwrought and unable to speak, he took his leave from her in silence, barely able to acknowledge her parting 'goodnight'. Upon arriving home that night he had to spend more than one 'special' moment with his hand. He didn't know how much longer he could continue on like this, only that he must.

Rhianne's foot massages became a regular and ritual beginning to Rory's weekly Friday evening reward, and while the massages remained as extensive, his reward returned to its original form. She never again exercised immediately before but she enjoyed having her feet massaged nonetheless, to help relieve the stresses of her work week she would say. There was rarely any conversation as he went about his ministrations. She would just lean back, close her eyes and relax as he worked his tactile magic. One afternoon however she surprised him just as he was beginning his task by asking him about himself.

"You've been working here for me for over half a year and I hardly know anything about you." she explained pleasantly

As elated inside as he was at her interest, he was trying to be honest when he replied, "There isn't much to know Ma'am."

"Oh I can't believe that. Tell me about your family."

He bowed his head for a moment and then looked up at her. He had never discussed this with any of his clients. "I was adopted from an orphanage at age ten. I've never been able to find out anything about my real parents. I think my adoptive parents looked at me as a way to rekindle some interest in their own marriage without any of the messy work of taking care of an infant." He let out a breath. "Anyway, it didn't work out. My adoptive mother left when I was twelve and I've never seen her since."

"Rory, I'm so sorry."

"There's no need to be. There was never much between us. After the divorce my adoptive father kept me with him. He wasn't a bad sort, just that his work took up most of his time, so it kind of fell to me to take care of the house for us both. That's how I learned to do everything that I do now, so I guess it turned out okay. He died just after I finished high school, but he left me enough money to put myself through college."

"What did you study there?"

"I graduated with a degree in finance but afterwards I had little interest in the field except in managing my own business, and as housekeeping was one thing that I know how to do very well, and even liked, I decided to give it a go as a livelihood. And so far ..."

"You've done very well with it. Which is no surprise because you're so very good at it."

"Thank you Ma'am"

"It's only the truth." she stated emphatically. "Anyway then, what about a girlfriend?" she asked, changing directions completely and causing his heart to skip a beat. "Is there anyone special out there?"

"No" he admitted truthfully as he continued to rub her feet. "I've never had one."

Her lips curved up in a smile.

"That's even more difficult for me to believe. I suspect that you have to fight off women all the time."

His heart skipped another beat. Maybe this was the opportunity that he had been waiting for so long. To let her know that he was available to her for any more intimate activities that she might desire other than housework. Was that where she was leading this? He just had to take the plunge.

"I do have some more personal arrangements with a few of my lady clients." he began cautiously.

Rhianne sat up straighter.

"What do you mean?"

He couldn't help but notice the change in tone.

"We get to spend some 'special' time together sometimes while I'm there with them." he tried to explain.

She now pulled her foot out of his hands and set it firmly on the floor.

"Are you trying to tell me that you have sex ... intercourse ... with some of your employers?"

He could see now that he had made a serious miscalculation, from which he had to somehow recoup.

"It's not like that at all Ma'am. They approach me and I just ..."

"You're just all too happy to prey upon their weaknesses to get your own satisfaction, aren't you, How could you do something like that?" She said, clearly distressed. Then, almost to herself. "With somebody who isn't the 'One'." She shuddered. "It's disgusting."

A look of horror crossed her face.

"And I bet you thought that you were going to add me to your list of conquests, didn't you?"

"No, I, well ... " he stammered, lost.

"Oh, this is just too much. I can't stomach any more. I can't have someone like you in my house, under my roof, under any circumstances. You have to get out. NOW. And don't ever come back."

This time it was a wave of terror that washed through him. Now, being on his knees as he was seemed the most appropriate place to be.

"No Ma'am, please, you don't understand. None of that means anything to me. I can stop. I WILL stop. Just let me stay on here. PLEASE."

"How can you say that? Men like you never change. You don't know how to keep it in your pants. You'll never learn."

"But I can and will, I swear to you. I'll stop with all of them, and never do anything like that again."

"Easy words. How would I ever know? You can say anything, promise anything, but how would I ever be able to trust your word, or anything about you at all after this."

"Give me a chance Ma'am. How can I prove myself to you? I'll do anything, please." he exclaimed.

She sat back in silence, scrutinizing him intently for many long, agonizing moments. Finally,

"There may be a way, but I'm not sure it's worth my time and effort to go down that path."

"Please ma'am." he pleaded.

"I'm going to take the night to think about this, and what I may need to do if I decide to proceed." She nodded to herself. "Come back here tomorrow afternoon. About 2, and I'll give you my decision. And houseboy," she continued and concluded, " whatever I decide, it will be final, with no change of mind. Do you understand?"

"I understand, Ma'am. I'll be here exactly at 2. Thank you."

"Good. Now please leave."

Rory was frantic after he left. How could he have made such a mistake. And more importantly, what could he do to convince her to keep him on, and what would he do if she decided otherwise. He acknowledged to himself the absurdity of the situation, what all he was now offering to give up just to be allowed to work and toil for her for free. It made absolutely no sense. But deep within himself he understood. He was besotted with her, and would do almost anything to be near her, to be allowed to do things for her. His Friday evening ritual and reward continued to completely entrance him. If that, and her occasional compliments and fleeting smiles were all that she was ever willing to bestow, it would still make any and all activities with his regulars which he was now willing to forego an extremely small price to pay. And he would still always have his hand.

His first order of business when he arrived home at his apartment was to call Mrs Thompson for whom he was scheduled to work on Saturday afternoon. He reached her on his cell phone and told her that something urgent had come up and he wouldn't be able to come the next day.

"But my husband is finally going to play golf tomorrow." she groaned in response.

"I'm really sorry Mrs T, but this is a very important appointment that I just can't afford to miss."

"You're really starting to piss me off, do you know that, Rory." He heard her take a deep breath over the phone. "Oh well, I guess I'll just have to try to get him to play again next Saturday."

He didn't have the strength to tell her that if everything went as he prayed the next day they wouldn't have to worry about her husband's golf games any time soon.

"Thanks, Mrs T. I really appreciate it. I'll be there next Saturday, I promise."

That issue out of the way, he began a restless and fretful night. He could hardly contemplate the possibility of her rejection. She just had to believe, had to see his sincerity, and accept his vow. He just couldn't see any other way. In the end he knew that he had nothing else to offer and that he would just have to anxiously await her judgement.

He arrived at her front door precisely at 2pm the next day. He didn't dare to enter using his key. That would be far too presumptuous considering the circumstances. He also didn't want to chance annoying her by ringing the doorbell. He settled for a cautious, even tentative knock, hoping it would be heard, but not in any way thought to be insistent.

He waited for well over three minutes, wondering, as he had the very first time, whether he should gamble and repeat the knock. Before he could summon the courage to do so, Rhianne opened the door. She regarded him dispassionately for several moments before turning and walking away without a word. She left the door open behind so he assumed that he was meant to follow. As they arrived in the living room they both took their usual places, she on the sofa and he on the hassock. She began without any preamble.

"I thought long and hard about this situation for the entire evening last night, and it wasn't easy or very much fun I want you to know." She paused. "I continue to find your admitted activities repulsive and reprehensible. I said yesterday that men who act like that will never change, and can never learn." She glared at him cooly. "But perhaps I'm wrong. Maybe they can never do so on their own, but perhaps if they're taught..." She paused again and this time shrugged. "So I've decided to offer you a choice, houseboy."

"I'll do anything Ma'am." he declared.

"I wouldn't be too hasty about that until you've heard it all out." she rebuked.

"Yes Ma'am." He responded meekly.

"I've spent the entire morning looking for and was finally able to procure the necessary teaching and training tool." she continued. She reached over and picked up a brown paper bag that was sitting on the end table. She opened the bag and took out what was within and held it up for him to see. It was a short, hollow plastic tube with plastic rings at the end and a tiny padlock attached to the base.

"Do you know what this is?" she asked.

With a sinking and horrified feeling he thought he did. Still ...

"I ... I'm not sure Ma'am."

"It's a chastity device. As the name implies, when it is put on and locked in the appropriate place it will not come off unless removed by the keyholder. I would also consider it a security device, for my protection while you're here, and for everyone else when you're not."

"But how would I ... pee?' was the only thing he could think to stammer.

She laughed, but without much mirth.

"I wouldn't worry too much about that. There's a hole at the end, although it might take some creative maneuvering for the correct aim, but I'm sure you'll be able to handle that. It will only be removed once a week, under my direct supervision, for its cleaning. And yours. At all other times it will be locked in place to ensure your ongoing education in good and proper behavior." She stopped to allow his full comprehension, and then continued. "This is the condition and your choice for your continued employment here. I will ask only once. Do you accept."

He sat there, stunned. It was preposterous. This was beyond anything he could have conceived. But she had conceived. To ensure and teach him good and proper behavior she had said. And he had vowed that he would do anything. Of course there were things that he would and could never do, but was this one of them? She sat there waiting silently for his answer. It was impossible. He bowed his head and gave the only one that he was able.

"Yes Ma'am." he answered in a low and vanquished voice.

Rhianne let out a long, low breath. Had she expected him to refuse? He didn't know.

"Alright then." She finally retorted. "We might as well get started right away. Come here and stand in front of me and drop your pants and undies to the floor."

Rory did as he was told. Within seconds both were crumpled around his ankles. Despite his massive embarrassment and humiliation he couldn't stop his manhood from rising to full attention before her.

"Impressive." she murmured. "But it won't do for our purposes." She reached forward and took his testicles in a firm, prolonged and uncomfortable grip, twisting until he wilted in response. She then threaded one of his balls and then the other through one of the rings of the device, and then eased his now shrunken appendage within the length of the plastic tube. It just fit. She then locked them all together with the tiny padlock at the base.

"There you are now, all snug and secure." she said. "As I said before, it will only be taken off once a week for cleaning, let's make it on Wednesdays after you've finished a long, hard day of work outside. This is the only key and it will be kept in the drawer of the table here, to be used only then, or for the most dire of emergencies. Believe me, I will know if it is ever used otherwise."

She gave him a reassuring smile. "You should go now and use the rest of the weekend to become better acquainted with your new friend. I'll expect you back on Monday afternoon."

She stood up and left the room. Thus dismissed, Rory pulled up his pants over his new 'friend' and departed as instructed.

The first and foremost thing that he discovered almost immediately about his new situation was that while not exactly painful, how uncomfortable it was to become excited in the appliance, a frequent occurrence when he was with her, and sometimes even more so when just thinking about her. His member would strain and press mightily against the walls of his plastic prison but would always remain frustratingly stunted. The second thing that that he learned was that it did indeed take a number of messy practices to perfect his aim on his calls to nature.

A further and difficult order of business was to inform his regulars of the new circumstances. He told them all that he was now involved in a serious relationship to which he felt it necessary to remain solely dedicated. While disappointed, most of them understood and even expressed a degree of happiness for him. Except for Mrs Thompson, who felt that she had been continuously played by him, and fired him on the spot. Another significant loss of revenue. Somehow though, this no longer seemed so important.

As time then moved forward, nothing on the surface about his new situation appeared to affect him in a negative manner. On the contrary, with his enormous energy below now held in check and throttled, he found that his focus in other activities greatly heightened. While he had never stinted in his professional duties he now performed them with increased diligence and vigor, for all of his clients but most especially for her. It was hard for any of them not to notice. It was during the nighttimes though, when he was alone and had no other activities to channel his growing tensions, that he strained and chafed both physically and mentally as his thoughts almost always ranged on her. Often, such as during his Friday evening ritual and reward which she still allowed, it was a sweet agony, but it was always agony nonetheless.

Every Wednesday when he was finished with his outside labors for the day, as per instructions he would fetch a basin of water and soap, two wash towels, and one larger one for drying, and bring them to here where Rhianne waited in the living room seated on the edge of her couch. At her beckoning he would stand in front of her and lower both of his pants to the floor around his ankles. She would then take the key from the end table drawer and unlock and remove the device and hand it to him to wash and clean, while she attended to his cleansing.




Houseboy for Hire Pt. 02



She was never gentle with her scrubbing, in large part to keep his excitement from growing too much during these brief periods of freedom. When this was not completely successful, a firm, uncomfortable squeeze and twist in the right place served to help keep him soft and pliant. All too quickly, and always far too soon for him, he was being dried off and re encased in his cage. The key was then carefully put back in the drawer in a position only she could see, and he was sent on his way for the day.

But the tension continued to grow, and one Wednesday, almost six weeks after his captivity had begun, just as she finished roughly drying him and was preparing to re imprison him, he could stand it no more and fell to his knees before her.

"Ma'am, please ..." he pleaded.

Taken a bit aback, she stared down at him long and hard for an uncomfortably prolonged time. Finally her face softened and she sighed.

"I guess men do have their needs, if only for the maintenance of their health."

She paused a moment more, then,

"You may touch yourself, Rory."

With a soft moan of gratitude he brought up a shaky hand and lightly encircled his already stiff and standing manhood. Oh, after so long it felt so good. If only ...

"You may stroke it." she continued.

Oh God yes. He began to slowly run his fingers, feather softly, up and down his shaft. He so wanted to savor this but soon, almost of their own volition, his fingers tightened and the pace quickened, as did his breathing. Before long he was pumping and groaning furiously, and he knew that he was so close. But just as instinctively he knew ...

"Please Ma'am, please ... may I ... please." he panted plaintively.

She remained silent for several moments as he strove mightily to hold back. Finally ...

"Yes, you may spew. But don't you dare make a mess. Catch every bit of it. If even a drop falls on my rug there'll be hell to pay"

Permission gloriously granted he brought his other hand up in front of him, and with a few more vigorous strokes ...

He erupted. Great gouts of jism spurted forth in wave after wave into his waiting hand, accompanied by his helpless guttural grunting. It went on and on, for how long he could never guess as he continued to pump and squeeze until the waves became driblets and then last drops, none spilling from his hand. He slumped back onto his heels.

Rory had masturbated innumerable times in his life, and had had intercourse with more than a few women, but never had the experience been so intense ... so draining ... as what had just occurred. All beneath her discerning gaze. Totally spent and in a daze, all he could do was stare at the huge pearly puddle in his palm. It was Rhianne who finally broke the silence.

"I suppose that we'll now have to allow this from time to time." she opined, "if only, as I've said , for health purposes." She then looked down at the contents in his hand. "Dispose of that." she ordered, "and come right back. It's long past time to get you back into your security."

Obediently, he did as she said.

True to her word, Rhianne did allow him further relief from time to time. Rory quickly discovered however that unlike the first time, any pleadings on his part or even just subtle hints of his need and desire, proved counterproductive. He was granted release only at times of her choosing and whim, always under her watchful eye, and always every bit as electric and all consuming.

He found himself doing more and more for her outside his contracted duties and chores, not because he was trying to curry her favor for any extra 'special' events, but because he was getting increasing pleasure from doing so. Without her asking he began to regularly wash and polish her car. He took it upon himself to plant and then meticulously tend to a large flower garden in her front yard. After work hours he would shop for her, at first just for household items he needed for his work there, but before long he was buying her groceries as well. Rhianne always made sure to reimburse him for all the expenditures, but soon she was also drawing up regular shopping lists of things for him to buy.

On his own he frequently began to buy flowers ... for her. He was afraid, and did not think that it was appropriate or his place to personally give them to her, so he would put them in vases and place them in a variety of spots around the house. His heart would leap when, unnoticed, he would spy her in front of one, bending forward to smell as a smile would come to her lips.

One Friday evening during her foot massage she lamented, almost to herself, on the state of her nails, and that because she had been so busy recently with her work she hadn't had the time to visit the salon.

"Teach me how to do it, Ma'am." he impulsively offered. "To save you the time and effort of going there. And the expense. I know I can do it. I'm a fast learner."

She took a few moments to ponder, then, "I know you are. Why not." she concluded. "And we might as well start the lessons right now."

She directed him as to where to find all the necessary items and within minutes he was back with a large basin of warm scented water, two towels, a pumice stone, a bottle of nail polish remover, a bag of cotton balls, and finally her own personal choice of midnight blue nail polish.

After setting them all down carefully as she settled into the easy chair with her legs propped on the hassock, he arranged himself comfortably on his knees before her. She first instructed him on the use of the pumice stone and how to pare away any dead skin and smooth down any calluses. This was followed by his thoroughly removing all of the old polish on her nails with cotton balls doused with the acetone remover. She then soaked both of her feet in the scented water before removing them for him to dry and then guiding him on how to clip and file all of her nails. When this was finally accomplished she had him put cotton balls between all of her toes and begin the slow and meticulous process of painting them all. He couldn't help his slightly trembling fingers, but when he was finally finished he added his own inspiration of softly blowing on them to help them dry.

It was far from a perfect job, but as a first effort she deemed it satisfactory and declared that she was sure that he would improve with further practice. And he did so, rapidly, and it soon became another of his regular duties, no longer requiring her monitoring as she would comfortably sit in her easy chair, her legs outstretched on the hassock, and work on the computer on her lap as he on his knees attended to her toes.

This wasn't the only personal service he came to be called on to perform. One late Monday afternoon, just as he was finishing his dusting in the dining room she came in and told him that she had had a very tense and trying day at work on the computer and would he mind massaging the tight muscles in her neck for a bit. Fighting back the urge to say that not only wouldn't he mind but that he would crawl on his belly for such an opportunity, he merely said, "With pleasure Ma'am."

So very well practiced from his weekly work on the soles of her feet, he dug his thumbs and fingers expertly into the taut muscles of her neck and shoulders. He could feel them relax and almost melt under his kneading, and it didn't take much coaxing on his part to convince her to allow him to manage the same magic on her upper and lower back. While this did not become a routine part of his work schedule, she did not hesitate from frequently requesting it of him whenever she felt the need.

Seeing now how hard she was working and the toll that it sometimes seemed to take, he took it upon himself to begin bringing her snacks and a hot cup of tea in the mid afternoons when he was there. The first time that he did so she looked up at him crossly and chided him sharply for the interruption, but she quickly came to appreciate and even savor these breaks.

He also noticed more often on his arrival that she was frequently neglecting lunch, so on those days he started making one for her and insisting that she eat. She agreed to do so only after herself insisting that he make some for himself and join her. It was during these times that she first began to open up to him about herself. From these conversations he gathered enough hints to surmise that she was a writer, though of what he could not deduce. She was more forthcoming about how well traveled she had been at one time, although she no longer did so because the requirements and effort of traveling alone had grown too tiresome. He wondered to himself why someone like her would ever have to travel alone, but he never dared ask. In any event, she would say, she would probably like to travel again some day when circumstances might be different.

By her account she had countless contacts on the web, but apparently few friends locally, some of whom she would occasionally visit, or who would more rarely visit her here. Except for an infrequent trip into the city, or a quick drive to a store, she didn't venture out much any more. Her work had become her life and that, she had stated, was enough for her. But he had a strong sense that she was also waiting for something. For what, he didn't know.

As the first year anniversary of his employment with her came and passed, unremarked upon by her but clearly marked by him, Rory conceded to himself that he had settled into a strangely comfortable routine. Seventy percent of his work week was still with his other clients and this was where his income was generated. Though significantly less that what it once been, it was still enough for him to get by. It was during the other thirty percent however, despite the many constraints both physical and mental, where he found his most purpose and fulfillment. While he still would occasionally fantasize that she might someday want more from him ... free, he now accepted that this was never likely to happen. She just saw him as her jack ... or make that her ... servant-of-all-trades. But as long as she had some need for him, it would have to be enough. He still had his business and the freedom, with one obvious encumbrance, of his nights and weekends. And most importantly he still had his Friday evening ritual and reward, which as always continued to captivate and entrance. He had become ... oddly ... content.

It was several weeks later that Rhianne surprised him by meeting him at the door as he arrived one Friday afternoon. She had never done so before, and he became even more concerned that for the first time he could ever remember she appeared distressed.

"We have to talk." was all she said as she turned and led him one more time into her living room. This time though she waited until he, upon her direction, sat himself down on the edge of the hassock before she took her own place on the couch. He couldn't help but notice how unsettled , even nervous, she continued to be as she looked up and down at her hands, and his own anxiety began to rise. An uncomfortable silence seemed to stretch on for an eternity before she looked up at him with a sense of resolve.

"Rory, you've been working here for me for over a year now and you've done everything and anything that I've ever asked of you, and you've always performed beyond my highest expectations."

Once again he basked in the glow of her praise but this time with a knot of concern in his gut.

"But over the past few weeks, even months, I've struggled a great deal with thoughts and issues, and I've finally come to an understanding and conclusion." She looked down at her hands again, and then back up.

"Rory, I need more." she declared fiercely.

Rory strove vainly to hold himself in check. Could this really be happening after all this time and so many disappointments? Did she now finally want him, as he had never ceased to dream, released and free for more personal use? He was almost too afraid to ask.

"What is it that you want, Ma'am?"

She didn't answer right away, once again seeming very uncertain. Looking down at her hands one more time she took a deep breath, looked up and rushed forth with increasing fervor.

"I need someone here for me full time, not just a meager three afternoons a week ... someone to be at my beck and call 24/7 ... 365 ... to always be here for my every want and whim." Another deep breath. "And Rory, I'd very much like that someone to be you."

Rory actually physically rocked back. If she had surprised, even shocked him in the past with her proposals, this time he was completely knocked off his pins. His practical and pragmatic self, the part of him that had always been in control, and had governed all his actions and life until he had met her, was the first to regain equilibrium and respond.

"But how could I earn a living?" he countered in some desperation. "How would I support myself?"

She laughed. Her delighted laugh. And it somewhat lessened the tension that had enveloped them both.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that." She answered lightly. "You will be well kept. I'm more than well enough off financially to possess you."

She grew very serious again.

"But understand Rory," she continued much more sternly. "This is a one time, take it or leave it offer. If you don't feel that you're capable ..." more quietly, "... if it's not what you want ... " a sigh, " ... then we'll say goodbye, and I'll begin to look for someone else." A final inhalation. "What do you say?"

What could he say? His pragmatic self strove strenuously to reassert its dominance and say it was impossible and out of the question, but as he looked up into her now impassive and implacable face, behind it, in her eyes, he saw a yearning, a vulnerability, even a fear. What could she ever have to be afraid of? His rejection? That could never be. And the part of him that had been so deeply hidden for so long, that she had exposed and brought to the light, that she had so carefully and fully nurtured and molded, the real Rory, now understood and asserted its rightful place. He would be her rock, her foundation, her stepping stone back into the world, to be and do whatever she wanted and needed, serving and protecting and always being there for her as she continued to search for whatever it was that she was waiting. That she might only want of him to be her beast of burden no longer mattered. It would be his life and his joy, and what he was meant to be.

"I'm yours." was all he could say.

Perhaps it was that he hadn't said so immediately, or maybe that she didn't, wouldn't, couldn't truly believe.

"Prove it." she demanded harshly. "Take out your phone and call them ... call them all and tell them that you're not going back, that you're never going back. Call them right now."

Rory took out his cell and under her glare he called each and every one of his clients. He told them all that he had just been offered the opportunity of a lifetime and that he had no choice but to take it, and that he would thus no longer be able to work for them. With each call his conviction and certainty grew, as did her smile, so that as he finished his last call it was the most dazzling one with which she had ever graced him. It was done. He was now solely hers.

Her smile now became more serene.

"With your new position there will of course be some new responsibilities." she informed him after a few moments. "And certain new privileges as well." Her eyes sparkled. "Take off your clothes, houseboy, and lie down on the floor."

In less than a minute, save for his device Rory lay naked on his back on the ground before her. She rose off the couch and in his full view slowly took off her top, followed by her bra, and for the first time ever he was allowed to regard her bare and luscious breasts. She slipped off her bottoms and towered above him as her naked beauty took his breath away.

She allowed him some seconds to savor, and couldn't suppress a low throaty chuckle watching him squirm and groan as his manhood involuntarily squashed against the walls of its unforgiving confines. She moved to stand with her feet straddling his upturned face as she looked down the length of his magnificent body. Slowly she began to lower herself, opening and bringing her treasure closer and closer until her knees came to rest on either side of his chest, her trove mere inches above his mouth.

"Make me happy, houseboy." was all she said as she completed the journey onto his waiting lips.

Her scent was sublime, but as his tongue began to flick out onto her most precious gem her taste was even sweeter. He kept his licking light at first, sending small shivers through her before he moved somewhat more insistently deeper into her vault, eliciting within her even greater jolts of joy. After some time he ventured further back to her nethermost bud, feeling her tense above as if she had never expected his attention there, but she soon relaxed and offered up that orifice as well for more copious laving, bringing forth in her waves of a different sense of pleasure. Stiffening his tongue he finally eased forward once again to her more cherished opening, thrusting it within rapidly as she began to sway and then buck furiously above. Pounding up and down on his buried face she felt herself rising higher and higher, slowly giving way until with an inarticulate cry she arched back and her juices gushed forth below in a fury, bathing his tongue, lips, mouth and face as he continued to lap with unrestrained ardor, attempting to imbibe as much of her exquisite nectar as he was able. Her passion finally subsided and she slumped forward to bring her head to rest on his belly, as her slit remained firmly planted on his lips, with his nose buried between her buttocks cheeks.

How long they remained as such he was never sure, but eventually he felt her stir, sit up, and to his shock begin to manipulate his cage. Suddenly, incredibly, he was free, as she rose off of him and repositioned herself sitting astride on his belly in front of his already risen and upright member as she gazed down upon his face.

"That was very nice, but I think this is going to be even better." she said. She then leaned forward so that her own face was just inches above his and practically hissed.

"You're mine and mine only, houseboy. For me and me alone. I OWN you."

"Forever." he replied.

Her face softened as did her voice.

"You're the 'One' Rory. The One I've been waiting for so long. You'll always be the One."

She bent forward and down and kissed him, long and hard, tasting him and herself on his lips, savoring it fully as their tongues danced together joyously. Finally, reluctantly, but with even greater anticipation, she pulled away and lifted herself up and positioned herself over his ready and willing spear. "Enter me. Now." she said

She was still very wet , but so very tight as he slowly worked his way up, and she down, until he was finally fully within, and they both gasped together in pleasure. She began to rock back and forth cautiously and he responded in pace, both growing more rapid and bold, and before long each threw caution to the wind, thrusting unrelentingly upon and within each other, grabbing and stroking and clawing and screaming at each other before they both exploded ...together, their essences pouring forth unrestrained to surge and join and mingle in ecstatic unity until neither had any ability to give or accept more. Finally, both of them thoroughly spent, she slid off and to his side and nestled her head upon his shoulder and chest.

They lay together like that for uncounted time before Rhianne finally roused herself and sat up crossed legged beside him.

"That was unbelievably wonderful, Rory." she purred, caressing his face softly with the back of her hand. "I think that you're going to make me very, very happy."




Houseboy for Hire Pt. 02



"Always." he vowed.

"Yes. Indeed." she concurred.

She gathered herself up and began to collect her clothes. "I think it's time for you to get up and get dressed now, houseboy. You still have a lot of laundry to do today."

He remained lying there, confused.

"What about my cage?" he asked.

She laughed once again, a sound he knew that he could never get enough of.

"Oh, I don't think I'll be needing that anymore." she said. She looked down and saw his perplexed expression. "Unless of course, You want it."

It took him only a moment to understand and decide.

"I think I do." he answered.

She nodded and smiled knowingly.

"Alright then, go and clean yourself up and then come back and we'll put it back on. For the time being." she added.

As he hurried on to comply with her command, Rory marveled at the enormity of what all had just transpired. It was so far beyond what he could have ever imagined or dreamed. But he knew that there was one more thing that he had to do ... as soon as possible. Right after she reapplied his cage, the tangible symbol of her ownership. For the time being she had said ...that she didn't need it anymore. Perhaps with time he wouldn't need it either.

But he had to get to a computer right away. Maybe she would allow him to use hers once he explained the purpose. He had a listing he needed to delete.

He was no longer a Houseboy for Hire.

He was now a Houseboy for Life.

And he couldn't be happier.



Houseboy



"Yes, mommy. We will keep this one. He will be our little girl to use whenever we want. That's what you want, isn't it Stacy?" Burl asked. 

Unable to speak, Stacy nodded in agreement. 

"That's a good girl." Burl complimented. "You'll stay here with us tonight and tomorrow I'll drive you into town to get your things. You belong to mommy and me now." 

"Yes, Burl." 

"No, bitch! You must call me 'daddy' from now on. And Fran is mommy. Understand, slut?" 

"Yes, daddy." 

"Good girl! Now mommy will get you cleaned up for bed." 

Fran coaxed him off of the table, but barely prevented him from collapsing onto the floor. Burl chuckled and then swept Stacy up in his arms and carried him to the master bath where Fran cleaned him up. By the time Fran was finished, Stacy was able to stand and walk with some assistance. Fran led him into the master bedroom where Burl was lying on the bed. The bed was huge! It was larger than a king size. Fran led him to the bed and coaxed him onto it. The three of them lay there, naked. Stacy was spent and pliable. He looked over at Fran who was stroking his cock which was stiff and hard again. 

"Mommy needs to nurse you before you fall asleep, baby." Fran said. "Come down here and nurse on mommy's cock." Fran instructed. 

"That's it. Take it in your mouth, faggot. Nurse on it till you suck all of mommy's juice out. Ahhhh, yes, baby. That's a good, little sissy." 

Stacy had sucked Fran's whole pud inside of his mouth and was doing his best to follow Fran's instructions. The hard cock felt amazingly wonderful in his mouth as it throbbed and pulsated in response to Stacy's licking and sucking. While Stacy lost himself in the sensation of sucking his first cock, he felt Burl's hands at his ass again. Burl was kneading and caressing Stacy's firm little ass cheeks. Stacy stiffened as he felt Burl's greased finger invade him again. The finger was soon followed by Burl's hard, throbbing, greased monster sliding into him again. This time, it settled in quickly and the pain for Stacy was minimal. Once again, Stacy began to make little animal sounds as he lay between his two captors. He sucked hungrily at Fran's organ while Burl vigorously fucked his no longer virgin pussy. 

Fran came first, spewing his cum into Stacy's mouth. Stacy had all he could do to keep from gagging as Fran's juice slithered down his throat and filled his mouth to overflowing. Burl came shortly after Fran. Stacy was still trying to lap up all of Fran's love juice when he felt Burl shooting his load into his ass. That sent Stacy over the edge and he began to shoot his own cum in thin ropes onto his legs and the bed. 

"That's a good girl," Fran cooed as he ran his fingers through Stacy's hair. "You are no longer a straight boy from the city. You are a gay cum-slut who belongs to mommy and daddy now." 

Burl removed his cock from Stacy's pussy and Stacy slumped onto his back on the bed, Fran's cock sliding out of his mouth. Fran retrieved a wash cloth from the bathroom and cleaned Stacy up while Burl pulled back the bed covers. The three of them got into bed with Stacy between mommy and daddy. Burl maneuvered him onto his side and spooned him. Stacy felt Burl's now flaccid meat resting against his ass-crack. 

"Good night, baby girl." Fran smiled and then planted a kiss on Stacy's lips. Stacy opened his mouth to accept Fran's tongue. 

The kiss was brief and then the three of them snuggled together with Stacy sandwiched between them. It didn't take long for an exhausted Stacy to drift off to sleep. As he drifted off, he heard Burl whispering to him: 

"You're hired, houseboy."



Housebroken



I was not very experienced sexually when I married at 29. A couple of girls in college, and the sex was, evidently, rather vanilla. It wasn't that I wasn't interested in a more varied or unusual sex life, it's just that I have always been rather withdrawn, living my life in my mind.

Which is what first attracted me to Liz.

She, too, was quiet, well-read, interesting. And attractive. She had been an All-American swimmer in college. She was 5'10" with strong shoulders, full breasts, narrow hips and long, long legs. She wore her black hair very short, in a severe cut that seemed to put most people off. She did not defer to men. In fact, most men at our work were intimidated by her looks and her intellect. We were thrown together on a long research project and hit it off immediately, though our relationship was strictly professional, then friendly until finally, after one late night, we ended up in bed.

Again, the sex was fairly vanilla, though enjoyable. We were engaged shortly after and married. 

After two years of marriage, things changed. It started when I made a banking error, forgetting to transfer funds, which caused a check to bounce, much to Liz's embarrassment. We had had only a handful of brief arguments in our marriage, never even a raised voice. But when she returned from redeeming the check at a small boutique run by an acquaintance, she was clearly livid. She didn't shout, but there was real steel in her voice.

"How dare you humiliate me in this fashion," she said. "Your mistake, but I am the one made to suffer."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I would have gone to collect the check for you."

"You weren't home, and I wasn't about to leave the store waiting. Why should you get off Scott free?"

"I suppose I shouldn't."

"No," she said. "You shouldn't." Suddenly, a sort of cloud seemed to cover her face. She looked darker somehow, fiercer.

"Stand up," she said. I stood. "Remove your belt and give it to me," she said. I did. "Now lower your trousers and your briefs to your ankles and bend over the couch."

I was shocked. "Surely you don't mean to spank me?" I said.

"That is exactly what I mean to do. You have humiliated me, now I shall humiliate you. Drop your pants and bend over the couch."

It was almost like being possessed. A hand moved to the front of my khakis, and they were around my ankles before I even knew it was my hand. Before I could even think clearly, my pants and briefs were around my ankles and I was bent double over the back of our sofa. 

The first blow of the belt was a burning shock, and the several that followed seemed to light a fire across my buttocks. Yet, in spite of the pain, I also felt my cock swelling against the leather of the coach. And I felt a raging anticipation, a sense of delicious wickedness, that never had accompanied any previous sexual act. This is what I had always wanted and had missed. 

There was a pause in the blows across my back and I heard a rustling sound. I started to rise.

"Stay where you are," Liz hissed. I did. The rustling stopped, and then I heard the swish of the belt, louder than before, and felt a tremendous thwack across the chapped skin of my ass. And another. And another. My cock pushed into the leather of the sofa like a steel rod.

"Stand up," she said. 

I did.

"Turn," she said.

I did. The rustling sound had been Liz stripping off her clothes. She stood naked before me, a light dew of moisture crowning the short hairs of her neatly trimmed bush.

"Kneel," she said.

I did. She walked to me, then stood with her legs astride me and grabbed my head, simultaneously pulling it into her vagina while violently thrusting her hips forward into my face. The impact actually split my lip. I opened my mouth to her womanhood while she furiously humped my face, pinning my head against the back of the sofa. My ass burned. I could taste the blood from my lip mixed with her juices. I could feel her fingernails digging into my scalp and nearly pulling off my ears as she pulled me harder and harder into her. I came onto the carpet without even touching myself, just as she roared into a seemingly endless orgasm.

When she was done, she released me and I collapsed to the floor. She tapped her toe next to the stream of semen on the floor.

"Lick up your mess," she said.

I rose to all fours, then lowered my head and lapped the cooling, salty liquid off the floor.

I felt her foot press down on the back of my neck.

"This isn't over," she said. "I was humiliated in front of others, you in the privacy of our home. You're working from home tomorrow."

Her tone indicated that it wasn't a question. I attempted to nod my ascent against the force of her foot.

"I will arrange a delivery for you at noon exactly. Follow its instructions exactly."

Again I attempted to nod.

"Good," she said. "Now, since you seem to so enjoy lapping up semen, I shall go collect more for you. When I return, you may lap it out of me."

She slipped back into her shoes and pulled on her raincoat, not even putting on another stitch. Two hours later, she returned home. She threw off her coat and shoved me to the floor, then pulled my head up onto an Ottoman. She sat roughly down on my face, filling my nose with the scent of other men and their cum. I lapped for what seemed hours, through three of her orgasms and two of my own. We showered and went to bed. Liz drifting off immediately and me wondering what tomorrow's delivery would bring.

Liz left early, dressed in a plain black pants suit. I threw on some old jeans and a T-shirt and tried to concentrate on some market research in our home office, but my mind constantly drifted to the delivery coming at noon. 

At 12:00 exactly, the doorbell rang. It was Ricard, a young black man who handled local deliveries for our company. Ricard stood 6'2" and had the body of a NFL linebacker. 

"Ricard," I said.

"Your wife told me to come in and wait for your reply," Ricard said, handing me a buff-colored inter-office envelope.

"All right," I answered, stepping aside to let him into the living room. I opened the envelope and read the letter.

Dear Stuart,

Now commences your public humiliation. I have positioned three web cams in the living room and am watching even as you read this letter. Ricard, as you may know, is gay. Before you say a word, I want you to undress and drop to your knees. Then I want you to look Ricard directly in the eyes and beg him to use you in any way he desires. This demand is non-negotiable. If you do not comply exactly, you will never see me again. And remember through every moment of your degradation that I am watching.

Liz

I folded the letter and returned it to the envelope. I had never had so much as a gay impulse in my life and, in fact, the idea of another man's cock in my mouth or, God forbid. my ass, actually sickened me a little. Yet I was getting hard. The idea of my wife watching me, the idea of her seeing me surrender, this overcame whatever reservations I could muster. I had turned my back to Ricard while reading the letter and had still not turned to face him. I pulled the T-shirt over my head, unfastened my jeans and pulled them and my briefs off, throwing them to the wall. I turned to face Ricard, who looked shocked, and I dropped to my knees. Looking directly into his eyes, I said,

"Ricard, I beg you to use me. Use me in any way you wish."

Ricard smiled. I was not a kind smile.

"You want it pussy boy?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Didn't know you swung that way."

"Neither did I."

He chuckled. "First time?"

"Yes," I said.

"It's gonna hurt," he said.

"Good," I answered.

Ricard stepped forward so that the front of his brown Dickey slacks nearly touched my face. He opened his pants and pulled out a member easily twice as long and twice as thick as my own. He grasped the base of it and swung it against my cheek a few times. It hit with the impact of a slap. 

"Open your mouth," he said.

I did. He placed one hand under my chin and the other on the back of my head. Then he slammed his penis into my mouth and partly into my throat. I gagged.

"Throw up on me and I will beat your pathetic ass," he said. "One way or another, you're taking the whole thing. I want to feel my balls slapping against your chin."

Tightening his grip, he thrust forward with his hips again. I went completely slack. I could barely breath and felt as though my tonsils had sheared loose. Yet, if I were to die here, chocking on this black cock, then I would die happy knowing that Liz was watching.

With each violent thrust, he forced more and more of the cock into my mouth, into my throat. It felt as though it had almost reached my stomach. Finally, my nose was pressed into his wiry pubic hairs and his swollen scrotum flattened against my chin.

He suddenly pulled the whole cock loose at once, in a stream of saliva. He grabbed the hair on the top of my head and pulled my to my feet.

"Broke that whole in," he said. "Time for the other."

He turned me to the sofa and threw me over the back of it, exposing my ass.

"Reach behind and spread your cheeks," he said.

I did.

I felt the his hands grab my hips and lift me so that my feet were off the floor. I had no leverage at all, no way to resist. I barely felt the tip of his cock press against my anus when he lifted up on the balls of his feet and then drove it fully into my bowels with the entire weight of his body. The pain was excruciating, a feeling as if a rifle had been fired into my ass. I heard him grunt as he made one final push, seating his cock firmly into me as far as it would reach. Then, he slowly lifted, pulling the cock back, back, back until only its tumescent black-purple head remained within me. He let himself fall onto me again, spearing me with his prick, his weight crushing the air out of my lungs. Over and over he would pull his cock nearly out of me and then slam it back in with all the force he could muster. 

Looking forward, I saw that Liz had placed one of the web cams on the coffee table beyond the sofa, just even with my face. Looking into it, I blushed with shame and desire. For this is what I wanted. To offer anything to please her. If her letter had instructed me to allow Ricard beat me to death, I would have knelt and taken the blows until I faded into oblivion.

The pace and violence of Ricard's cock pummeling into my ass increased. I could feel sweat breaking out on his skin. His hand left my hips and his arms slid under my arms and then up, his hands closing behind my neck, putting me into a full nelson. He bent me back into him, painfully, as he continued to thrust into my ass, now with astonishing speed. 


"Gonna fill your ass now, pussy boy," he said. "Gonna fill your sorry white ass with my cum."

I felt him explode with in me, felt his seed fill my bowels and begin to run down my legs. Finally, he collapsed on top of me for a moment, then stood and pulled out of my ass. My rectum felt like a two car garage with its door open.

"One more thing, pussy boy. Your wife told me to tell you not to move when I was done. Didn't know what that meant then, guess I know now. Guess she wants a good look at your punk ass covered in my cum. You are one sorry little fuck." He walked around the sofa so that his now mostly limp prick hung in front of my face. It dripped with cum, with my blood and with filth from my bowels.

"If you think I'm putting this mess back in my pants, you're fucking nuts," he said. "Clean it off."

Again, he grabbed my chin, forced open my mouth and rammed his cock inside. I did my best to remove all the filth from his member, even as I felt it swell again in my mouth. His attention switched from hygiene to lust. He grabbed the back of my head with both hands, slamming his cock into my mouth and throat. Shortly, I felt his ball sack pull up, and more hot cum issue forth, flooding my mouth.

"Good pussy boy," he said, pulling out and tucking his cock into his pants. "Now you just lay there over that coach till wifey gets home."



Housebroken



I had been corresponding with Amy for months. She had found my site, and it had taken a while before I flipped her from curious to committed.

I should tell you, I train submissives for a living, and a very good living it is. I have a reputation for quality and efficiency---it doesn't take long before I can hook up the highest bidder with one of my girls. The client's happy, the girl's happy, and my bank account's happy too.

Getting back to Amy, she was perfect. Her parents were dead (hey, I hate to be cold about it but it's one less complication), she'd been divorced for years, and she hated her job. She was pretty if a little chubby, and I knew just how to fix that.

She followed all my rules, put her stuff in storage, quit her job and showed up at my door. She was of average height, had big brown eyes and brown hair, and a great smile.

"You know what you've got to do, bitch," I growled, getting her prepared for what was to come. She looked a little nervous but stripped right down to nothing. Her tits were good, not huge, but that would be fixed too, the rest of her smooth and hairless. "Very nice," I said. "Let me show you to the room."

The training room is very simple. There's a wall-mounted flat-screen TV, which stays on all day and night for instructional videos, a pad on the floor, a toilet, sink and shower. Spartan but adequate. Some hooks on the wall if it becomes necessary, although I don't think torture is the way to go. My submissives choose their program and are usually very willing to do whatever is required to please me. I monitor them on a closed circuit TV, taping their training. The tapes go with them to their new owner, kind of like a baby book.

"Okay, here's the deal. You'll be watching some videos of our offerings. You can decide what program you want to enroll in. Any questions?"

Amy shook her head. She was looking a little lost, but I had every hope she would enjoy herself soon.

I locked her in the room. I watched her sit cross-legged on the mattress.I popped in the tape. Amy was about to be entertained by the Alternate Kennel Club, the Garden Girls and Satan's Satins. If she didn't like what she saw, I was ready to pull out the promos from the other groups.

Amy sat goggle-eyed through the program. I saw her grab her clit early on and watched her cum too many times to count. A very good sign. What she saw turned her on, and I had a pretty good idea which plan she'd pick. Just to be on the safe side, I repeated the whole show again.

When it was over, I entered her room. "Well, bitch?" I asked.

She was blushing, her eyes downcast. "The AKC, I think," she whispered.

"An excellent choice. You saw what will be expected of you?"

"Yes, Master."

"You'll have the chance to perform your first task." I snapped a collar around her neck. "On all fours, bitch." She complied immediately. She crawled after me out the bedroom door and I grabbed a leash by the kitchen door.

My backyard's absolutely private. She followed me down the steps slowly. I led her to some hydrangea bushes. "Do your business."

I watched her flush all over. She licked her lips and closed her eyes. Before I could count to ten, she was pissing a hot yellow stream onto my grass. I took my pecker out and sprayed her haunches as she let go. She was a natural.

"What do you say, bitch?"

"Thank you, Master."

For the next few weeks, I kept her on strict rations, just cum mixed with Slim Fast. She watched training videos during her waking hours, and slept through them, getting subliminal info as she snoozed. There were standards she had to meet for the AKC. Just like any good breed of dog, she had to know what was expected of her and look a certain way. I arranged to have breast implants for her immediately. The "Bitch in Heat" tattoo on her shaved cunt would come later.

When she was sufficiently healed from her boob job, I decided to give her the lab instead of the lecture. She'd paid attention to the videos and was a fabulous cocksucker, taking all of me with such enthusiasm I got a little sorry I'd be selling her. She lost all her shyness and could crap happily in the yard with no embarrassment. She licked up her dinner from a bowl on her floor. She begged to take my cock up her ass or in her cunt a jillion times a day, her cute little pink tongue hanging out. She was one happy puppy. And so was I.

She was now whippet-thin, her big tits sticking straight out. I had introduced her tail to her, a long brown curve of fur that was stuck into a massive but plug. She practiced wagging it and giggled like a little kid. I let her get dressed one day so she could get her tattoo, and when she went into her room, I watched her trace it in wonder, her big brown eyes shining. She was ready.

Her potential owners arrived one night, and it was time to put her through her paces. You've seen the Westminster Kennel Club shows, right? Some guy runs around in a circle with the dog. Well, we didn't run, but we walked. Amy stopped to sniff every dick and asshole. She removed her tail while she got pounded in the ass as she was sucking on some monster cock. She stayed as they sprayed her with cum and pissed on her. She shit in the backyard with a dozen pairs of eyes focussed on her pearly white ass.

"Very impressive." I put her in her cage and she curled into a ball, watching through her thick fringe of lashes to see who she was going to go home with. She wanted to be Best in Show so bad, and was willing to do anything to get that blue ribbon. The club met once a month, and there was plenty of competition to see whose bitch could beat the rest. I didn't belong, of course, but I'd been to several of the shows, and of course, I had them on tape. The AKC had a substantial membership on the Internet.

After an excellent round of bidding, I was $100,000 richer and Stan Phillips was hauling her crate into his Land Rover. Amy whined a little. I knew she'd miss me, and I sure as hell would miss her. But Cathy was due tomorrow. No rest for the wicked.

About a year later, Stan invited me over for a drink. Amy met us at the door, her tail wagging, even skinnier than I remembered. She snuffled my khakis and Stan laughed. "Down, bitch, you'll get it soon enough." We took her in the yard and she peed near a lilac bush. When we went back in he said, "You have my permission to stand and get us our drinks."

Amy barked happily. When she stood, I noticed the marks on her ass. "Yeah," Stan said sadly, "you did a great job housebreaking her, but there have been a couple of things we had to work on. She wasn't too thrilled to be fucked when she was in heat, but I'm making my money back on her when it's her time of the month. Some friends of mine are really into that, but Amy didn't like the taste of her own blood when I told her she had to clean them off. Look," he said. He passed me a photo album. "She's won Best in Show three months running. Good girl, bitch!" 

Amy had come back in the room with a tray of drinks and snacks. She took her position at her master's feet, a look of pure love in her eyes.

"Are you going to breed her?" I asked.

"God, no. I had her spayed first thing. You want her to suck you off for old time's sake?"

I had to admit I did. I put my drink down and leaned back. Amy's talented paws pulled my zipper down, her tongue dripping with drool. Her mouth was warm and welcoming. She licked my shaft throroughly, not missing a spot. I stuffed my cock in her mouth and she sucked and swirled, taking me in deeper til I felt myself slip deep down into her throat. She made a faint growling noise but didn't stop her incredible suction.

I opened my eyes to see Stan. He'd pulled out her tail and was thrusting into her greased butt hole, sliding in and out, bucking faster, which caused Amy to suck harder. I knew I was close and could tell from Stan's face he was nearly there too. I pushed Amy's head into me until I could feel her warm nose on my belly. "Now, bitch, now!" Stan screamed, and we both shot our loads into this beautiful bitch. I watched Amy swallow my cum and then clean up her master.

"Wow," I said.

"Best bitch I ever had, buddy," said Stan. "Thanks again. She was worth every penny."

Amy had crawled into her kennel and lay on her dogbed. Stan and I made some sandwiches and talked late into the night. Turned out he'd like a playmate for Amy and I told him I'd see what I could do. We were interrupted by a sad bark and a rather unpleasant smell. Amy had shit in a corner of her cage and we hadn't even noticed.

"Damn it. Bad dog!" Stan turned, winked at me and whispered. "She does this every now and then. She wants to be punished."

"I never disciplined her, except with a rolled-up newspaper."

"She's graduated to a strap. Want to stay and watch?"

"Sure."

"Come, bitch. Take care of your mess."

Carefully Amy wrapped up her poop in the newspaper that lined her cage and crawled out to put it in the outside trash can. She put her nose on Stan's shoe and looked at me, a sly smile on her face. Who would have thought it? Turned out she is totally into pain.

She yipped a little as the strap came down on her ass, turning it a most attractive shade of red. Stan patted her on the head when he was done and she licked his hand.

"It's late, I gotta go," I said. I'd gotten pretty turned on again but I had a Garden Girl trainee back home that would take care of me. That's Garden of Eden, and she'd make Adam proud.

"Don't forget to get me another puppy. I'm willing to pay the same price. Don't put me through another auction."

"No problem. Are you sure Amy will be okay with it?"

"Listen, you should see her lick pussy at our meetings. The other bitches love her. She's so eager to please. How do you think she won those blue ribbons?"

Two surprises in one night. I looked at Amy, sleek and satisfied. She smiled radiantly and I knew she really was totally housebroken, even if she had an 'accident' now and then. 



Housebuilders



My best friend from school, Eric, was orphaned while I was in the service and had inherited a fair amount of money. By the time I got out he had purchased property and had a "pole barn" built on it to live in while he built his house. He asked me to stay with him and help him build it.

It sounded like fun and I had little else going so I decided to join him.

The pole building was set up pretty well with work and storage room below and small living quarters in an open loft above. There were two beds, a small kitchen arangement, and a toilet and shower behind a curtain. With no dividing walls I knew we were going to have to get used to changing, showering, and pooping in front of each other.

Things went along well and we made good progress on the house until one day we were lifting a beam into place that was actually way too big for just the two of us. We had been working with it for a while and almost had it home when it slipped. Instead of letting it fall Eric tried to catch it and it fell across both his forearms and hands thoroghly smashing them.

I got it off and we drove the thirty some miles to the closest hospital where the doctors worked on him for hours before deciding he would probably recover fully after a long time of healing. 

We left the hospital with his arms trussed up in a combination brace/cast that left him totally without their use.

I was thinking to myself that he was going to be completely dependent on me. He had no one else. I'd never thought about being a caregiver and was deciding that, yeah, I'd be able to buck up and take care of him when he broke the silence saying,"I'm a mess. I won't be able to do anything. What am I going to do?"

I heard myself reply,"It'll be all right. I can take care of you. It'll be a little gross at first but we'll get used to it."

It started the minute we got back. He had to pee. It was awkward undoing his belt and fly. After doing so I turned him in the direction of the toilet and pulled his pants down from the back so he could pee. He tried to aim using just his body but pee went everywhere with no one holding his dick. Luckily, before I did he was through.

"This is going to get complicated" I thought to myself. I fixed some food, fed him, and put him to bed. 

He awoke the next morning, still in quite a bit of pain, and wearing a hospital gown tried to go pee himself. His morning erection, however, prevented that. He finally called to me and when I looked over, there he was sitting there on the toilet with a huge boner sticking up from between his legs. Not knowing what else to do I went over and kind of pushed down on it with one finger as he moved his butt back to allow it to pass the toilet seat. I'd never touched another man's penis and it felt strange. I continued to hold it down as he was finally able to go. It kind of softened as he went.

I noticed him look at me with sad, pleading eyes as I heard his turds drop into the toilet. He was embarrassed and apologized for getting us into this. Not seeing any other choice, I helped him stand up, kind of bent him over, held my breath and wiped his ass. Whew!

We kind of got into a routine and things went along for couple of days and he finally said he didn't think he could go much longer without a shower. I'd been kind of dreading this but saw no reason to put it off.

To make things easier he'd been wearing a t-shirt, socks and the hospital gown and they did need changing. 

The first shower I tried to wash him with me on the outside, dressed, trying to stay dry. It didn't work. I did, however, notice he was in very good shape with very strong shoulders, back, buttocks (I washed between them avoiding his crotch), and legs.

After a few more days I knew shower time was coming again but this time I got him ready, showered myself and had him join me in the shower. There he was, young and strong, standing with his back to me and his arms stretched above his head. It was hard not to notice this could be considered sexy. I tried to remain clinical as I shampooed his hair, soaped up his torso, washed his back, under his arms, his chest, (I kind of reached aroung from the side because I was half hard and did not want him to see), and his legs. I again pretty much avoided his genitals.

I was feeling ashamed as we went through the motions for the next several days and my mind was awash with visions of him. I felt so transparent. I could not stop thinking about his beautiful body and did not know how much longer this could go on. I could not even masturbate because we were in the same room. I eas dreading the next shower day.

If I put it off any longer it would arouse suspicion but that wasn't all that could be aroused. I was trying desperately to deny what I was feeling, but it was no good.

Again I got him ready, showered, and called him in. There he was again, young and strong, arms upstretched, glorious. I washed his hair, applied soap, ran my hands over his back and buttocks more luxuriously than I'd intended. I washed down the back of his legs wondering what I was going to do because I was fully hard. My thoughts again were swimming. I'd quit denying to myself that this was the hottest situation I'd ever been in.

Just then he said, "Hey, don't think I'm weird, or anything, because I've got a boner. It's just been so long since I had any". 

I tried to reply casually by saying,"Don't worry about it, it's been just as long for me. Ha,Ha." How weak.

With that I moved around in front of him, kind of bending at the waist to avoid hitting his with mine. I'd have been showng pre-cum if it wasn't for the water. I began to wash his muscular chest with both hands and I can't believe he did not notice how lost I got in it, how long I washed it.

Finally I moved down to his feet, and began moving back up to his calves, and finally the front of his thighs. I could hardly keep going, my mind was lost, swimming, I'm not sure I knew where I was. On my knees, His big glorious cock and balls were right in front of my face. His long uncleaned crotch was going to be cleansed at last. I was actually trembling as I ran the bar of soap under his ballsack. He had to widen his stance slightly and I was in heaven. I ran the soap few times and then laid it on the floor, returning with my bare hands. I apparently had forgotten I was trying to hide my lust because I washed his balls long and luxuriosly, ran my hand up and down his shaft not really aware he was standing there. I knew I was going to suck his cock. His beautiful hard cock. It wasn't even voluntary. Nothing could have stopped it. It was so natual.

It was wonderful. One hand under his balls, the other on his hip, and his cock deep in my mouth. The hand on his hip began pulling him in and out like it had it's own mind. So smooth. So smooth. So Smooth and long and hard. It was like a starving man getting a meal at last. A man dying of thirst finally getting a drink! 

I pulled him deeper, in and out. He began to move with me, letting me set the pace must've been difficult. Long and slow. Savoring every wonderful inch, in and out, in and out, deeper. I had most of his beautiful long prick in my head.

He began to move more quickly. He'd braced himself with his arms against the sides of the shower and was really going with it! Faster and faster and better yet deeper. I could not get enough. He was really fucking my face. I had to grab both hips and pull and push to help him stay balanced. I was pulling and pushing very hard and fast and he was fucking me! Over and over and suddenly he pushed in all the way and held himself there pumping into me. He pulled out a little and rammed himself home again, holding and pumping until he was through.

I realized it'd been awhile since I'd taken a breath but I'd have suffocated before not having him come in me. This was the best sex I'd ever had and I had not even cum.

I think I'm Home.



Housebuying Boogie



My wife Samantha and I had been looking at properties for a few weeks when we decided to view Number 22. The experience so far had left me unenthusiastic and even Sam was beginning to find the ongoing process a little tedious. We couldn't agree on which place to buy. One of us always had a negative point about the few places we had considered, and so it was with a growing feeling of frustration that we arrived at the next address to meet the agent.

Because it was Saturday afternoon, our usual agent wasn't available since it was her rota for the weekend off. She'd called to apologise, but emphasised that Richard would look after us and assured us that he was more than capable.

'Hmm,' I heard Samantha murmur when we arrived. I assumed the tone of approval as for the house, but she continued with, 'Look at him.' 

As the car came to a halt I looked through the windscreen and saw the object of Samantha's enthusiastic appraisal. A tall, athletic black guy was standing in the open doorway and was obviously expecting us. I supposed that this was Richard. He appeared to be in his early twenties, was dressed in a light suit that even I could see complimented his dark skin. His hair was neatly groomed and he looked to be relaxed and confident. 

'What do you mean, "Look at him"?' I asked exasperated. 'So he's young, good looking and black... so what?' 

'Oh come on, Mark,' Samantha rolled her eyes. 'A girl can look can't she? He's positively gorgeous.' 

'For fuck's sake,' I muttered and opened the car door. 'Come on, let's take a look around.' 'Mr and Mrs Webster?' Richard smiled and extended his hand. 

'Samantha, please I'm Samantha, call me Sam, and this is my husband, Mark.' Samantha took over the introductions and smiled broadly at the young man. 

Good God, she's making a big deal out of this bloke. Look at her, positively drooling over him! 

I shook hands with the estate agent and he went straight into his prepared introductory speech. Samantha and I followed Richard throughout the spacious, three storey house and as we looked into the usual rooms I forgot about Samantha's bitch in heat attitude towards the handsome black man. The house really interested me and I could tell that Samantha appeared to like it as well.

'Well,' Richard asked finally, 'what do you think?' 

I looked at my wife and she smiled and nodded with approval. 

'I think,' I replied slowly. 'I think that we're interested.' I looked at Samantha for confirmation. 'Sam?' 

'Mmm, definitely,' she responded. 'I'm definitely interested...' She gave me a sideways look and grinned slyly. 'Interested in the house too,' she added. 

Richard laughed albeit a little uncertainly. He was unsure as to how to politely respond to Samantha's inappropriate remark and was flustered.

'Please,' I interjected,' forgive my wife, she's a little... ah... nervous. She makes jokes that probably aren't funny when she's nervous,' I added as an attempt at explanation. 

'Ok,' Richard smiled uncertainly. 'Shall we sit in the living room and perhaps go over some possibilities?' 

'Oh, the possibilities are endless,' Samantha offered and looked daggers at me. 

'Erm, do you think my wife and I could have a moment in private to discuss things?' I asked Richard, who smiled politely and discreetly left the room. 

I turned on Samantha abruptly, incensed by the show she was making of us both. 

'What the fuck are you doing?' I whispered sharply. 'You're making us look like a pair of fucking idiots. Making suggestive comments like that. Richard's embarrassed... I'm fucking embarrassed... Jesus Sam, stop it.' 

'What?' Samantha asked in a parody of wide eyed innocence. 'So I've made a couple of remarks, Jesus relax will you.' Samantha sniffed in disdain at her perception of my stuffy attitude. 'I find him yummy, that's all. He looks good, he smells good...' 

'Well calm yourself down, he's got to be ten years younger than you anyway, you're thirty five... how about fucking acting your age.' 'What?' Samantha said sharply. 'I'm thirty five, so there's no way a stud like him is going to fancy me, is that it?' 

'Jesus,' I muttered and looked upwards. 'Listen to yourself. We're here to look at a house, not get into a domestic. I'm not going to argue about how attractive you may, or may not be to a guy ten years your junior.' I looked at Samantha directly, 'I know you like the look of him, but come on... I'm standing right here, I feel a complete fool when you come on so strong like that.' 

'Ok,' Samantha murmured quietly. 'Sorry.' She looked at me and smiled sheepishly. 

I felt myself soften when I saw the look of contrition on my wife's pretty face. I've always been easy to manipulate, at least as far as Samantha was concerned. That pretty face had attracted me to begin with. Samantha's very kissable mouth with the adorable slight overbite and her big blue innocent looking eyes had captivated me years ago. I was always a sucker for blondes, and Sam's particular shade of 'dirty blonde' really did it for me in the trouser department. Samantha didn't have any single outstanding feature that defined her attractiveness, for me it was the whole package combined. Her bust was neither overlarge nor small, her neat breasts were rounded and well proportioned, and her cleavage was shown to its full potential that day in her button fronted blouse. 

My wife is a tall lady and her slim, elegantly shaped legs were shown off to their superb finest in the skirt she'd chosen for our trip out house hunting. The skirt hung to just above my wife's knees, not too short and not too long, and the total effect was added to by the fact that her higher than average heeled shoes put just the right level of tension on her calf muscles and gave her legs that little 'extra' to cause men to take a second glance at her as she passed in the street. The narrow waist of the skirt emphasised Sam's delectable backside; another winning feature that had given me many, many hours of exquisite pleasure.

'Come on then, babe,' I said softly and leaned in to kiss her mouth lightly. 'Let's talk money with Richard.' 

Richard sat on a two seater settee that was in the living room, and Samantha sat opposite him in a matching chair. I watched Richard eyeing my wife's legs as she settled back in the seat and crossed her shapely pins. 

Oh fuck. I hope Samantha doesn't see him eyeing her legs. It'll only encourage her. 

'Right,' said Richard briskly as he dragged his eyes up from Samantha's legs. 'You know the asking price?' he enquired. I nodded and he continued, 'Ok, so how do you feel about it if I may ask?' 

'Well,' Samantha spoke,' we would expect the vendor to negotiate.' 

I looked sharply at her. I could tell by her tone that she was back to playing games already. Oh shit. She had a look in her eyes. A look I'd seen a few times in the past, and one that she had only ever displayed while drunk. It was her 'horny and flirting' look. It was dangerous.

'Well I'm sure that we could come up with something if we all try to reach a common goal,' Richard replied apparently unaffected by my wife's tone of voice. 

Samantha laughed with enjoyment. 'Now I'm certain that we could come up with something.' She stared at Richard as though challenging him and the young man shifted awkwardly in his seat. Samantha's very thinly veiled suggestive remarks had obviously penetrated his consciousness and he was more than a little discomfited. 

'Sam,' I warned, but my warning fell upon deaf ears as Sam stood up. 

'What?' she looked at me with hat blue eyed innocence. She smoothed her skirt over her hips and for some reason Richard swallowed heavily. Perhaps the innocuous gesture had struck a chord within him, I didn't know and could only guess, but he could only look at Sam helplessly as she moved across the carpet towards where he sat. 'We can talk... figures if you like,' Sam said in a slightly husky voice and settled cosily onto the seat next to Richard. 

'Er... Yes, yes indeed,' Richard stumbled, lost for words in the strangeness of his situation. He was totally at a loss and looked to me for some sign. 

'Sam,' I warned again I a low voice. 'Stop teasing the man, come on.' 

'Teasing?' the blue eyed innocence again. Samantha turned her body towards Richard and leaned in closer. 'I'm not teasing am I, Richard,' she sighed. 

'Erm...' Richard still struggled with the words, and then called out, 'Oh!' as my wife placed her hand on his thigh. 

'Sam!' I barked. 'That's enough, get up, we'll talk about the house on the way home.'

'Mark,' Samantha replied with a pout. 'Don't get so cross, I was only playing. Richard doesn't mind.' She squeezed the poor man's thigh and looked at him again. 'You don't mind, do you Richard?'

'No, no,' he replied flustered. 'Not really, no.' 

'There!' my wife called out in triumph. 'Now, stop being silly Mark, you're so stuffy at times.' 

I rolled my eyes in exasperation and smiled at Richard apologetically. 'Sorry about her,' I said. 'She doesn't mean anything, she just takes things a bit too far sometimes.' 

Richard grinned weakly and rose to his feet. He obviously hadn't assessed the situation fully since his trouser front was bulging with what appeared to be the beginning of a very impressive erection. 

Richard's eyes grew wide when he realised that his traitorous cock was standing at half mast and was tenting his trousers hugely. 

'Good God,' I heard Samantha whisper when she saw the effect her flirting had had on poor Richard. 'Is that for my benefit?' She giggled nervously, obviously taken aback by the sheer extent of Richard's apparent arousal. 

'Oh,' Richard blurted. 'I'm sorry Mr Webster... and you too Mrs Webster. I'm...' 

'Richard, please,' my wife purred. 'You have no reason to be sorry, no reason at all.' Samantha looked at me pleadingly. 'Mark...' she began. 'Mark, please...' 

I knew what my wife was asking. She wanted my signal that she could go ahead. I knew she'd had a yearning for black cock since before we'd met. To date, she'd never acted upon her desire, I had no real idea why. Perhaps it was out of love and respect for me, her spouse, or perhaps she just didn't have the guts... I didn't know. All I could focus on now was the fact that she appeared to have made her choice. She wanted Richard, and she was now looking to me for some sort of approval. 

My stomach flipped and coiled greasily. I felt a conflict of emotion, a paradox of jealousy and burgeoning lust. The thought of my wife, my beautiful Samantha with another man... The imagined vision of my Sam, her legs wide in invitation as she gazed up in wonder as another man held his hard cock against her lithe body... God, the very thought sent me wild with jealousy, but... But, my cock took me by surprise with its sudden, huge stiffening. My mind whirled with indecision. My wife... No! But the throb in my balls and lower belly sent a different message to my brain, and I was appalled to hear my own voice as though from afar utter a hoarse, 'Yes Sam.'

The voice sounded to me as though it had come from far away, but my wife only grinned at me in response. 

'Thank you, baby,' she whispered. 'I love you.' Then she turned to Richard who had been standing dumbly throughout this personal, private drama and smiled at him. 'So,' she whispered, 'are you going to let me see what you've got that's making your trousers bulge like that?' 

My wife reached out and rubbed the big bulge with the palm of her hand. 'Mrs Webster!' Richard managed to call. 'Mrs Webster, please, no... I... this...' 

'Oh come on, Richard,' Sam cut him off. 'Loosen up,' She jerked her head in my direction. 'Mark's cool about it, I want you, and I'd say you want me...' She pushed her body against the bemused young man and writhed against him slowly. 'Come on,' she insisted. 'Kiss me.'

Sam stood on tip toe and held Richard's face in her hands. She pulled his head down to hers and kissed his mouth. He resisted for a short time, but then seemed to succumb and began to return the kiss. 

I stood immobile for what seemed an age as my wife held the man's face in her hands and pushed her tongue into his mouth. The contrast of Samantha's skin against the dark background of Richard's cheek stunned me. My chest felt tight, constricted, as though a band had been placed around me and was slowly tightening. I realised with a jolt that I had been subconsciously holding my breath and I had to make a determined effort to breath normally again. 

Still standing stock still, I continued to watch as Richard's ardour began to obviously heighten and I heard him moan quietly while my wife's tongue writhed with his in a serpentine ballet. As the couple kissed, Samantha's hand was busy at Richard's belt and zip. I watched her reach inside the gap at the top of Richard's trousers and heard her low murmur of approval when Sam felt Richard's cock. 

Without preamble, Sam pulled the man's penis from its hiding place. 'Oh my God!' she cried. 'Look at it.' My wife's eyes were huge, wide with the shock of what she was looking at. It wasn't the size of Richard's cock; it was the fact that it was the first black cock she'd ever seen in real life. 'Look at it, she repeated, 'it's so... it's so... dark.' 

My wife's delight was obvious; she was positively salivating at the sight of her soon-to-be-lover's exotic penis. I felt the greasy slide of jealousy again, but was also taken by surprise at my own body's reaction to the situation. In response to Samantha's eagerness and wide eyed anticipation, my cock had grown suddenly hard. The excitement in Samantha's voice sparked my own excitement and I was almost as keen as her for the situation to develop further. 

Samantha glanced across to me as she held Richard's erection in a sort of underhand grip. A quick, almost apologetic smile twitched at the corners of her pretty mouth and she rolled her eyes in a signal of appreciation. Once again I was aware of the contrast in the pale skin of her inner forearm, as Richard's chocolate hued cock lay thick against her wrist and arm. Sam's grip tightened around the girth of Richard's shaft and she slowly began to manipulate the length of it. Richard groaned as my wife gently caressed him, his eyes were closed with the sweet sensation he was feeling. I knew exactly how he felt because my wife had teased my own stiff cock to climax on numerous occasions stretching back over the years of our relationship. 

Sweet Jesus just look at her. She's actually holding another man's cock right in front of my eyes! Why am I letting this happen? I should intervene; I should stop it! She's my wife, for God's sake. But, look at her. She's so beautiful; she looks so bloody excited... That look on her face... it's turning me on too. Damn, damn her. I should stop it... but I can't. 

Richard reached for the top button on Samantha's blouse and popped it open. The others quickly followed suit and soon my wife was standing with her blouse gaping and her bra exposed. She let go of Richard's cock and pulled the blouse from her shoulders. She threw it over the back of a chair casually, and reached behind to unclip her bra. I saw the familiar sight of her cute, round breasts as they were freed and noticed Richard's face suddenly change. He stared at my wife's sweet breasts for a moment and then growled again. The sound was rich and deep, and indicated his lust at the sight of Samantha's bared skin. He cupped Sam's boobs in his big, long fingered hands and damn, if that contrast of skin tone didn't cause a surge of lust to fire through my body as well.

Richard dipped his head to Samantha's chest and licked at her thickening teats. He left a trail of saliva around each of Samantha's areola, and at one point he had squeezed Samantha's tits together and was slurping from one nipple to the other and back again, and was making sounds of appreciation in the back of his throat throughout. Richard's breath was loud as it hissed through his nostrils and I heard Samantha sighing with pleasure and arousal as Richard feasted on her body. 

'Take your clothes off,' I heard Samantha whisper urgently. 'Take your clothes off, I want to taste your cock and see your body – Hurry!' 

With an urgency that was almost comical, Richard stripped. The comedy evaporated, fast, when I saw the clean, chiselled muscles that adorned Richard's chest and stomach. His legs were long and well muscled as well, and his arms were also athletically proportioned. His cock jutted in front of his body in all its erect magnificence and I could see the excitement in Samantha's face as she looked at it hungrily. 

Samantha was nude now as well, with the exception of her shoes, which I realised with a jolt was so that she would have sufficient height for Richard to be able to fuck her from behind whilst standing. This was one of my wife's favourite positions, and one that she had enjoyed hugely with me on numerous outdoor trysts. That she was contemplating accommodating her black stud in just this way sent a frisson of now familiar jealousy through me again.

'My God, you're beautiful,' I heard my wife say. She ran her palms along Richard's chest and arms, feeling his taut muscles as they tensed and bunched under her touch. 'I've always wanted to be fucked by a black guy,' she whispered. 'Mark knows,' she added, 'but, until now... Well, I've never had the guts.' 

Richard grinned, his confidence apparently returned. 'Yeah, well... I'm glad you chose today. Damn you're sexy.' 

He was right; she did look sexy, as sexy as I'd seen her ever looking. Her hair was piled up carelessly and held up with a few pins and a comb. Her face was animated and her eyes were sparkling with blatant lust and desire. Her nipples were long and thick, which was always a sure sign that she would be positively dripping between her legs. The shoes... Oh my God, the shoes! I've always loved Sam dressing up in a pair of what we call 'hooker shoes', and she was certainly getting into role this afternoon.

In reciprocation of Samantha's touching, Richard ran his hands slowly over my wife's curves. He gently fingered the smooth skin of her breasts and took a firm grip of both her buttocks and squeezed.

'What a fine body you have, Mrs Webster,' Richard said with a cheeky grin. 'Cute little diddies, and a firm, hot arse.'

'Why thank you,' my wife replied with mock civility. 'I think you've got a fantastic body...' She paused and lifted Richard's hard cock in her hand, 'and you're cock looks adorable too.' Samantha tugged at the shaft several times and then added, 'I think I'm just going to get down on my knees right here and suck your fat, black cock.'

Samantha squatted in front of the athletically proportioned young man and then knelt. She examined his penis from close range and then shocked me by sticking the pink, wet tip of her tongue out and licking the dark purple head.

'Fucking hell,' Richard whispered as he looked down at Samantha's blonde head. He pushed his fingers through the careless tangle of my wife's hair and held her head steady. 'Sam...' he croaked. 'Jesus, Sam... suck me. Suck my cock. Damn, you white bitches love black don't you?'

My wife looked up at her lover and nodded. 'Oh yes indeed, Richard,' she agreed wholeheartedly. 'I want to be your bitch this afternoon, treat me like I'm your bitch. Fuck my pink pussy and feel my white tits with your black hands.' 

Jesus! Where was she getting it from? My wife was talking like a complete slut. She was nearly begging the man to fuck her senseless. I'd seen her in a state of high arousal before; of course I had, but this... It must be the situation and because I was so turned on too. My God, the whole thing was just so unbelievably sexy... 

I was past the point of no return by now myself. I didn't care what was going on in that room. I didn't care that my beautiful wife was offering herself to this man for his pleasure. I wanted to fuck her too, and I pulled my own not inconsiderable erection from my trousers. I stroked myself and watched the debauched spectacle of my wife sucking the thick black/purple pole of Richard's cock.




Housebuying Boogie



Samantha was really going to town as she slurped and drooled saliva over Richard's penis. She held it close to the root at its base and licked up the outside of the shaft from top to bottom and back again. She then popped the big dome back between her painted lips and sucked at it so that her cheeks were concave. As she sucked, Samantha wanked at the shaft of the cock and then licked Richard's hanging balls.

'Do you like it?' Samantha whispered up at her lover as his black cock dribbled precum from the end and a silvery thread of the stuff hung from my wife's chin. 'I love sucking cock,' Samantha said and emphasised the point by squashing the spongy dome against her pursed lips. 'I especially love sucking your black one,' she added, 'my first one, yummy.'

Richard didn't reply to this verbally, but pushed his fingers into Samantha's hair again and held her head still. With his other hand he gripped his penis and then rubbed the slippery end around my wife's face. 

'There you go,' he laughed when Samantha's features were smeared with his goo. 'Now you look like my slut, my white slut. Is that what you want?'

'Oh yes!' Samantha replied enthusiastically. 'Use me baby. Fuck me as you want. I love it.'

The transformation in Richard was remarkable as well. He had gone from smartly dressed, professional estate agent, to being taken completely off guard by Samantha's persistent seduction technique, to his ultimate metamorphosis as dominant, black stud. He was handling Samantha in exactly the way she would want to be handled, and he was using the precise language needed to have her pussy juicing madly. God, I was getting hugely aroused by the couple in front of me and decided that it was time I perhaps joined in.

I stripped unnoticed and once naked, walked over to where my wife was on her knees with her mouth stuffed with black meat.

'Why don't you take my wife over to the sofa and taste her?' I suggested. 'Get her laid back and just taste how good she is.' I laughed and continued, 'if I know Samantha, she'll be almost pissing juice by now.' I looked at my wife,' Isn't that right, babe? Are you all slippery and wet?'

'Fuck yes,' Samantha sighed in reply and slid her fingers through her labia. She held her fingers up for Richard to examine and I heard the man breath deeply when he saw her glistening digits.

Samantha moved to the sofa and eagerly opened her slim thighs. She parted the folds of her sticky labia and exposed the wet pink of her sex. She rubbed the tip of her index finger against her opening and then used the wet tip to excite her already stiff clit. As she masturbated lightly, Samantha's eyes drooped closed and her mouth opened in a silent O. Her taut stomach clenched as the electric sensations from her clit fired through her body and Samantha let out a low, animal groan of pleasure.

'Fuck,' she hissed. 'I'm so fucking dirty, I'm so horny, God, I could fuck ten of you.' Samantha rubbed at her clit more heavily and a little faster, and her expression changed from a wide mouthed silent expression of delight to her biting on her bottom lip. Samantha's body convulsed slightly and her breasts jiggled delightfully with the movement. Her eyes shot open when she sensed Richard kneeling between her thighs, and she grinned slyly as she slid her hips forward a little to offer the man her sex.

Richard needed no second bidding. He bent to the task with vigour and was soon slurping at Samantha's molten sex eagerly.

'Oh, baby, lick my cunt!' Samantha cried in ecstasy when her lover probed at her with his tongue. He flicked the tip of his tongue over and around Samantha's clit and pushed his finger deep into her welcoming body.

I took the opportunity to climb up on the sofa and offered my wife my cock to suck. I touched her head to get her attention and it took a moment for Samantha's eyes to focus on me.

'Suck me, babe,' I urged and held my cock steady in my fist.

'Mark! Oh Mark, I love you,' Samantha moaned and reached awkwardly for my cock.

I was surprised by my wife's words since she was in the process of being fingered and licked by another man. Our first threesome and I just thought it strange that she should use such an endearment at a moment like this.

'I love you too, Sam,' I responded and then groaned as her hot mouth engulfed me. 

Richard was licking my wife expertly. Samantha's hips were jerking as the pleasure assaulted her senses and I could hear her groans of delight from around her mouthful of my cock. As I fucked my wife's mouth, I knocked the comb from her hair and watched as her blonde locks tumbled around her face. She was going berserk by now. Jerking frantically as she tried to force herself harder against Richard's face. Her breathing was ragged and I could feel her breath blowing through her nostrils and wafting over my belly and balls.

Sam clawed at the sofa desperately and her chest and throat grew flushed red with her excitement. She let my cock drop from between her lips and groaned hugely. Her torso buckled and a great sob burst from her mouth as her climax burst.

Samantha moaned and squealed as she came. Her face was taut and I could see the cords on her neck standing out sharply as she strained in apparent agony. I had never seen my wife orgasm so strongly before. It was a powerful sight and I felt a sudden rush of desire for her. I wanted to fuck into her so badly, but I knew that this time, I would have to forego my rightful place between my wife's legs and allow this black stud to have his way with her.

'Fuck me,' Samantha begged. 'Stick that big, black cock into me and fuck me. God, I'm so fucking desperate to be fucked...'

Richard was knelt between Sam's legs still and was just looking down at her with surprise written all over his handsome face.

'Jesus,' he whispered and shook his head. 'You've just come like a steam train, and now you want to fuck?'

'Yes!' Samantha replied emphatically. 'I want you to fuck me. Come n,' she urged and lifted her buttocks up from the sofa. 'Stick it in me like this first, and then I want you to bang me from behind. I love being fucked from behind and having my tits mauled at the same time.'

Richard lifted his swaying cock and held it still with the blunt head up tight against my wife's labia. He pushed forward and grunted, and his cock head disappeared inside my lovely slutwife.

'Mmm,' Samantha sighed. 'Fill me with your black cock, baby. Fuck me.' Samantha pushed against Richard and I saw more of his dark length slide easily into my wife's body.

'Shit,' Richard grunted as Samantha accommodated him easily. He held himself still when his curly pubic hairs met Samantha's trimmed bush. He put his big hands around Samantha's narrow waist and pulled her almost free of his length. My wife's labia clung stickily to the shaft of Richard's cock as though reluctant to release the prize. I could see Samantha's goo smeared along the length of the man's dark penis when it was exposed and free from Samantha's body. I could only pull at my own cock since my wife's full attention was focussed on the sight of that black cock as it invaded her.

Soon Richard's pace increased and the sound of their bodies slapping together was loud in the room. Samantha's eyes were heavy lidded with lust and her breasts jiggled sexily under Richard's powerful onslaught.

'Fuck it into me you big, beautiful bastard,' my wife urged her lover. 'God its deep, fuck me deeper,' she groaned as Richard redoubled his efforts. 'That's it baby, do it to me, use my cunt, use my tight little cunt.'

'Shit, Sam,' Richard groaned and grimaced. 'I'm going...'

'No!' my wife cried. 'Don't come, please, don't come.' She pulled back from Richard and at the same time pushed against his belly with an outstretched hand. His cock slid out of my wife and I saw a trickle of her syrup run down the cleft of her buttocks.

Jesus, she was so turned on. I don't believe I just saw that. God, I'm desperate for her. She's so damn sexy. She looks like a slut. Her make up is in ruin, her hair is a mess. She's got dried cum smeared over her face and her cunt is almost pissing her juice... She looks so beautiful, God, I want her.

Samantha stood up and turned so that her delectable rear was showed off perfectly. She bent at the waist slightly and offered her sex to Richard again. He moved behind my wife and introduced his cock head to her once more. Samantha moved her feet back and forth a little to get her balance and to give Richard easier access to her body. The man gripped my wife's hips in his hands and pushed up inside her again. 

Samantha let out a huge groan when Richard pushed inside her and I saw her head loll forward and her hair fall over her face. Richard grunted and picked up a fast tempo straight away. He slammed his cock into my wife with vigorous strokes and dug his fingers deep into the soft flesh of Samantha's hips. Her buttocks wobbled saucily with the force of Richard's hard fucking and the man moved his grip from her hips and squeezed at Sam's swinging tits.

'Oh yeah!' Samantha squealed. 'Maul my tits, be rough. Go on, I want it hard.' She pushed back against her lover and tried to force more of his dark length into her body. 'Maul my tits, hurt me,' she screamed. 'Fuck me so I can't walk for days, God, I want you to fuck me.'

Richard's face was a mask of agony and I could see that he was on the verge of coming. His thrusting had pushed Sam so far forward that she was forced to kneel on the sofa. This meant that Richard could alter the angle of his cock and could penetrate further into my wife's hot centre. Richard was grunting like a wounded beast and I knew it wouldn't be long before he shot his load.

'Oh God, Sam...' he sighed. 'I'm... I'm...'

'Do it,' my wife called and looked back at the black man who was so skilfully fucking her. 'It's ok, I want you to come inside me, I want to feel it.' Samantha slammed back hard against Richard's stomach. 'Don't worry, I won't get pregnant, just fill me up, please.'

Richard groaned and slumped forward against Samantha heavily. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to his body. I could tell he was jetting his semen into my wife by his jerking body and then the total give away was Samantha's cry of triumph.

'Yes!' she shouted. 'I can feel it. I can feel you spitting it inside me'

Richard groaned loudly and threw his head back as he came. He lifted himself up and held my wife's hips and continued to pump his seed into her body. The sensation of Richard's pumping cock sent Samantha over the edge, and she too climaxed loudly.

My wife's blonde head was pushed deep against the cushions as she surrendered totally to her second orgasm. Her hips jerked and she moaned and sighed out her release. Finally Richard pulled his thick, black, shining cock out of my wife's body and a thick glob of his cum plopped onto the carpet between Samantha's knees.

I couldn't help myself. As soon as Richard had moved clear of Samantha's body I rolled her over onto her back. Without a moments hesitation I held her legs wide open and briefly surveyed the cum oozing from inside her. I pushed my cock against the slippery opening and slid inside her instantly.

'You bitch,' I whispered at her, my face mere inches from her own stained features. 'You fucked that black guy right in front of me. You fucking loved it. You loved having him fuck you and then you loved it more when he came inside you.'

'Yes,' Samantha snarled vehemently. 'I did, I did love getting fucked by that black cock.' She fucked back at me, eager to have me inside her body. 'You liked it too, you dirty bastard,' she sneered. 'Go on, admit it, you enjoyed seeing me take him, didn't you? Well?'

'You slut,' I moaned as I pushed my cock into my wife's well fucked body. Richard's cum squelched obscenely and dribbled out of Samantha in a thick ooze.

There was no way I could hold back. The excitement was too much for me. I'd seen too much depravity to hold back. Sam was right, I had been turned on by her being fucked by the handsome black guy, and as my cock pulsed and gushed seed deep into my lovely wife.

I wondered how the house warming party would turn out.