Frank Brown

Hot bed housekeeper

CHAPTER ONE

Kathy kicked her heels at her husband's hairy, bouncing ass, spurring him on to keep him thrusting, to keep him grinding his hard cock in her itching, clutching pussy.

"Oh, honey!" she gasped, rubbing her tits up hard against his hairy chest. "Deeper, darling! Make me come!"

Otto grunted like a bull, his eyes closed, the sweat dripping off his nose. His cock turned to steel inside her and started to flex.

"Ahhhhhh!" he growled, collapsing on top of her as his cum shot into her seething, lust pained cunt. "Awwwwww!"

Kathy squirmed madly under him, rubbing her clit against his sliding, flexing cock, trying desperately to bring herself off. As Otto's orgasm subsided, as his cock began to soften, Kathy crushed him fiercely in the embrace of her arms and legs, digging her fingernails into his back, tongue-kissing him and trying to keep him on top of her. She so desperately wanted to come, needed to came.

As the last drops of cum oozed from Otto's spent cock, he pushed powerfully out of her embrace and rolled off her. He dropped his feet off the bed, stood up, and staggered toward the bathroom without so much as a thank you.

Kathy gritted her teeth, jamming two stiff fingers in and out of her cum-greasy pussy.

"Damn you!" she muttered under her breath, loud enough to vent her frustration, but not loud enough for Otto to hear her. He could get mean if she gave him any lip, especially if she dared complain about his sexual capabilities.

From down the hallway came the sound of the shower running. Kathy moaned freely now as she masturbated, knowing that Otto couldn't hear her. Sprawled naked on the bed, her ass rubbing in the fuck-juices on the sheets, she rocked her hips as she fucked herself. Hew legs were spread wide and her toes clutched with each thrust of her fingers into her crotch. With her free hand, she massaged her tits, tweaking and pinching her hard nipples.

"Feels so good!" she moaned, pretending that her fingers were a hard, driving cock.

She loved getting fucked. She'd always loved getting fucked – which is why she'd married Otto when they were both fresh out of high school. Otto, the big football hero. Otto, the stud every girl in school had lusted over. He'd had a reputation among the girls for being a tireless stallion when it came to fucking, and he'd had a reputation for having a cock as big as a stallion, too.

Both lies. Terrible lies. None of those swooning girls had ever seen Otto's cock, let alone fucked it.

Kathy laughed cynically now as she jerked herself off, her laughter bitter, close to tears. She'd been a fool for not testing Otto out before she'd married him. But she'd been a silly, stupid young girl. When she'd made sexual passes at him and he'd told her that he had too much respect for her to violate her before they got married, she'd found herself even more madly in love with him. Admittedly, she'd been puzzled as to how Otto had managed to gain such a studly reputation with such a sissy attitude toward premarital sex, but then she'd concluded that although he might once have been wild, he had probably matured and changed his ways. He had chosen her, after all, to be his wife. She'd been the envy of all the girls in school.

What a fool she had been to trust a boy who needed a marriage contract before he would fuck!

The truth was that the big football captain had been a virgin until their wedding day. In a motel room Kathy had been shocked to discover: first, that the stallion-cock she'd been breathlessly waiting to see was barely six inches long, and second, that Otto knew nothing about how to use those paltry six inches. Kathy had had to show him where to shove it, for Gods sake! And then, worst of all, it turned out that Otto had absolutely no sexual stamina, no control. He came in seconds, before Kathy had even got warmed up. And after fifteen years of marriage, he hadn't improved his performance. If anything, he came even quicker these days, fucking her every morning for the few seconds he needed to get off before he went to work.

And to top it off, he'd gone to pot. His beautifully sculpted, marble-smooth young body had grown bloated, paunchy, and bristly haired. Kathy hated to even look at him anymore.

She drove her fingers up her pussy to the hilt, twisting them, grinding her knuckles against her clit. A rush of sensation whirled through her loins and her pussy contracted. Her toes clutched with each orgasmic wave and she moaned, writhing naked on the bed, her fingers grinding between her thighs. She arched up, thrusting her tits high, her nipples hard and ready to split.

"Ohhhh yessssss!" she moaned. "I love the feeeeeeling!"

She fucked herself until every twinge of orgasmic sensation had subsided, then fell back and pulled her fingers out of her cunt and licked Otto's cum off them. She managed to cover herself with a sheet only seconds before he came tromping back into the bedroom, a towel rapped around his sagging paunch. If he had caught her masturbating, ho would have ridiculed her and made her feel like shit.

"You still in bed!" he said. "Getting lazy in your old age? I'm late for the office. Get me my breakfast."

Without a word, Kathy slipped out of bed, slipped into her bathrobe, and went to the kitchen to make Otto his breakfast. Sausages and bacon, a half-dozen eggs, toast with tons of butter and jelly, and coffee with lots of cream – this was Otto's daily breakfast. He still ate as if he were a teenage athlete – as if he were a half-dozen teenage athletes.

Kathy had timidly mentioned once that the diet he insisted on eating might be bad for his heart, but Otto had shut her up fast. As long as he was earning their bread and butter, he'd eat what he damned well pleased. Besides, he was still as fit and strong as he'd been in high school, he claimed, a few pounds heavier maybe, but just as strong and fit. Kathy wondered if he'd looked in the mirror lately.

After seeing Otto off to work, Kathy cleaned up the house, then sat around in the livingroom for a few hours, half-reading magazines and half-watching quiz shows on TV. The time crawled by, and her heart thumped with anxiety. She so wanted to get that job at the Chapmans', who lived only a few blocks away. She could work there without Otto ever finding out about it. Otto insisted that a wife's job was to stay at home, whether she had something to do in that home or not, and Kathy was bored to death.

If she didn't get out of here and do something soon, she'd end up in the asylum.

Eleven-thirty finally arrived, and Kathy walked two blocks down the street to a large white house hedged in with tall cedar trees. A new Mercedes sat in the driveway. She rang the front doorbell and heard chimes inside.

"Right on time," said the smartly dressed woman who opened the door. "Punctuality is next to Godliness, that's my motto. I cannot abide wasting time. I've taken an extra half hour for my lunch break today in order to come home and meet with you, Mrs. Finn, and I appreciate your being punctual."

The woman, Lois Chapman, led Kathy to the kitchen, where she was eating a lunch of fruit and yogurt. Lois was tall, slender, attractive, wore glasses, and was dressed like a female business executive, which she was.

"I don't have time for a dozen interviews," Lois said, "and you come with adequate references, so consider yourself hired on a probationary basis. Hours are flexible. You may come over to work anytime between seven in the morning and seven at night each weekday. I've made a list of your duties – basically keeping this house clean and straightened up, doing dishes once a day. Particularly, you must pay attention to Randy's bedroom upstairs, which I'm afraid will require a major cleaning every few days."

At that moment a teenage boy padded into the kitchen on bare feet grubby with street grime. Like his mother, Randy Chapman was tall and slender. He had shaggy blonde hair that hung in his eyes and over his ears. As was his custom, he was dressed in nothing but a pair of too-short, too-tight jean cutoffs. Kathy had watched him skateboard past her house hundreds of times over the years and knew him well on sight.

"What are you doing home in the middle of the day?" the boy asked his mother. He went to the refrigerator and pulled out a plastic pitcher of orange juice.

"Randolph," Lois Chapman said, "this is our new housekeeper, Mrs. Finn. She will be coming over daily from now on to straighten things up. By the way, you need a haircut and a bath."

"Sure," the boy said. He gulped juice straight from the pitcher, spilling some down his bobbing throat and tanned chest.

"Randolph," Lois said, "how many times have I told you to drink out of a glass like a civilized human being?"

The boy dropped the empty plastic pitcher on the counter and wiped his mouth. He scratched his muscled belly and glanced at Kathy with blue eyes that made her quiver inside. The boy exuded adolescent male sexuality. His cutoffs bulged at the grain as if they'd been stuffed with a slow-pitch softball. Kathy could smell him.

"Be seeing you guys," the boy said, and seconds later he was slamming the front door and skateboarding down the sidewalk outside.

"Both Fred and I leave for work before seven in the morning," Lois said, as if Randy had never interrupted. "And neither of us is home before seven in the evening. Often, I leave even earlier in the morning and sometimes I don't get home until after nine or ten at night. I work hard. I'm not ashamed to admit that my career means everything to me, nor am I ashamed to admit that I earn a larger income than my husband." She glanced at her watch. "I must be off."

Before she left, Lois Chapman handed Kathy a key to the house.

CHAPTER TWO

Kathy's heart thumped with wild excitement as she found herself alone in the big, sprawling house, and she found herself pretending that the house was hers. For some reason she got the urge to rip off all her clothes and run around the house naked, to scamper naked up the stairs and slide down the smooth, polished banister like a young girl. It was the same urge she used to get as a teenager when some young stud would take her out of town to some secluded wooded spot to fuck her. She would tear off all her clothes and make him chase her until it tackled her, felled her, and rammed her between the legs. Those had been the days! Unfortunately, those days had ended the day she and Otto Finn had started going steady. Since that day she hadn't been fucked by any cock but his – if what Otto did could even be called fucking!

As much as she felt like taking off all her clothes, Kathy didn't dare do so. What if Lois Chapman had forgot something and returned home to discover her new housekeeper running around the house naked? What if the man of the house, Fred Chapman, came home? Or Randy? She'd be fired before she even got started. She compromised her desire by kicking off her shoes and doing the dishes barefoot. Going barefoot was a liberating feeling, one that gave her a tingle between the cuntlips in the same way that going naked did.

When she finished the dishes, Kathy decided to explore the house, to see what kind of job she'd got herself into – also because she was nosey, and dying to see what kind of private life the richest family in the neighborhood lived. She knew she could learn a lot about a family's private life by snooping around its home.

To her relief, the downstairs, including the master bedroom, hardly needed cleaning. Even the bed was made. A little dusting, a little vacuuming, a little polishing each day and she'd be done with the downstairs, earning a very generous salary for only minimal work. She'd have to do laundry a few days each week, but she could handle that.

The upstairs included a game room, a library, the upstairs bathroom, two guest bedrooms, and Randy's bedroom. All the rooms except the bathroom and Randy's bedroom were clean. The bathroom and Randy's bedroom were pig pens, literally pig sties. Kathy couldn't believe these two rooms exited in a house so otherwise perfect. They looked like battlegrounds, and they smelled of unwashed teenage male. Lois Chapman's wasn't lying when she said that her career was everything to her. It was apparent that she'd neglected totally the discipline of her only son. She wondered whether Lois Chapman had peeked into Randy's room anytime recent, like within the last five years.

Kathy tiptoed into the boy's bedroom carefully, not knowing what she might step on or trip over among the clutter. She was tempted to hold her nose at first, but in seconds she was used to the sweaty male scent, which reminded her of some of the boys who'd fucked her in high school. Her heart thumped, each pulsation sending tingles through her cunt. She was turned on by being in the boy's bedroom, and she found herself being turned on more and more by the teen.

Randy was a handsome boy, Kathy had to admit. She'd first noticed him years ago as he'd skate boarded past her house in nothing by a pair of scanty cutoffs and his head of blond hair bouncing and waving in the breeze. Even as a young boy he'd had a kind of animal sensuality that had turned Kathy on despite her self. As she'd watched Randy Chapman grow up, as she'd watched his muscles grow and his height increase, she'd found herself wanting to see him naked. At times she'd had sexual daydreams about him, daydreams she'd forced out of her mind. He was, after all, a teenage boy, and she was, after all, a married woman.

Kathy caught her toe in some clothing and looked down to see the pouch of Randy Chapman's jockstrap draped over her foot. She raised her foot and plucked the jockstrap off her toe. Her hands trembled. She lifted the jock to her nose and sniffed it. The scent of unwashed teenage balls nearly knocked her over. Her cunt contracted hard. She dropped the jockstrap as if it were poison.

What am I doing! she thought, and looked behind herself to see if anybody was watching. Nobody. She'd expected to see Lois Chapman standing there, arms crossed, a scowl on her face. She saw nobody. The house was dead silent.

She went to the bed, lifted away the top sheet. The sheet underneath was covered with yellow stains. The scent of dried cum and stale sweat hit Kathy like a hot wind.

"My God!" she whispered, unable to believe what she was seeing.

Apparently, the sheet hadn't been washed in months. Apparently, it was the boy's job to take care of his bedroom and bathroom, and it was obvious he did neither. Now she was sure Lois Chapman hadn't looked into her son's bedroom in recent years. The sheet was soiled with dozens, maybe hundreds of dried cum stains.

Kathy didn't know what to do. She didn't know if she dared change the boy's bed and clean up his room. It would be like performing a major overhaul, and she feared the boy might not like it. She spotted the edge of a magazine sticking out from under the mattress and pulled it out. Her eyes nearly popped nut. She'd heard about porn magazines, but she'd never seen one.

On the cover a naked woman with wide-spread legs was being crotch-licked by a man. Inside the magazine, women sucked men's cocks, women fucked men's cocks, women smiled as cum splashed in their faces.

"I don't believe it!" Kathy muttered, pouring through the magazine. She reached down, groped under her skirt, and squeezed her cunt through her panties. The crotch of her panties was sopping wet.

She found other porn magazines under the mattress, a few dozen of them. Some of the things the magazines depicted Kathy had only heard whispered about. She couldn't believe that Randy Chapman, son of the richest parents in the neighborhood, looked at such filth. She couldn't believe that he could possibly have soiled his bedsheet with so many loads of cum. The sheet was actually stiff with dried cum, as if it had been starched. The boy had to be a sex maniac.

Kathy spotted a school picture of the boy among the clutter on his dresser. She picked it up, gazing into the seductive blue eyes under the blond bangs. The boy was a knockout, as she'd used to say about the boys in her high school. The boy turned her on. She wanted him. God did she want him!

She found herself pulling off her clothing – her dress, her bra, her panties. Her tits had swollen hugely, her cherries large, purplish, and bumpy, her nipples like hard fingertips. Pussyjuice dribbled from between her furry, swollen cuntlips and trickled down the insides of her thighs. She fell on her back an Randy's bed, rolling in the smell of him, his picture in one hand, her other hand jabbing between her legs.

"Oh, Randy, fuck me!" she moaned. "Give it to me, baby!"

She kicked her legs up in the air and pointed her toes. She arched her back and rocked her hips, thrusting her tits up high, rubbing them against the phantom chest of the phantom teenage boy.

"I want you!" she growled.

She didn't care anymore that she was married to Otto and had promised to be faithful to him forever. He'd never satisfied her anyway. Not once in their fifteen years of marriage had he ever satisfied her. She was thirty-three, an attractive woman at the peak of her sexual need, and married to a man who had never given her an orgasm, married to a man who used her a few minutes each morning as a sex toy, as no more than a receptacle for his cum, married to man who cared about his own quick pleasure and nothing about giving her pleasure.

Randy would fuck me good, she thought. Randy would fuck me for an hour if I wanted it, all day if I wanted it. Randy loves to fuck, I can tell that. And I know he knows how. He must know all about sex after studying all these magazines.

She snatched the boy's jockstrap off the floor from where it had fallen next to the bed. She draped the mesh crotch over her nose like an oxygen mask. The scent of teenage nuts whirled through her head, getting her high and drunk, dazed and dizzy. Her fingers knifed in her clutching, juicing pussy. Her toes clutched simultaneously with her cunt. Pussycream frothed out of her and dribbled down her asscrack like hot spit, dribbled down farther, getting the bedsheet slippery under her ass. She wondered if the boy would smell her on his bedsheet when he got into bed tonight.

"Ohhh, Randy, I want you!" she moaned, kissing the picture of the cocky, blue-eyed mouth. Each smack of her lips sent throbbing fuck-pleasure through her cunt. She pressed the spit-wet picture to her nipples, letting the boy suck her tits. "Do you like these tits, stud? I bet you've never sucked tits like these, baby! I bet you've never fucked a cunt like mine!"

In high school she'd had a reputation for being a sexual tigress. The boys had raved about her as much as the girls had raved about Otto Finn. But the stories about her had been true. The stories about Otto had been lies. The girls had made up all the stories. Otto had never fucked any of them. He'd taken them out, but he'd never fucked them. The only female Otto had ever fucked in his life was Kathy. He didn't deserve her, he'd never deserved her.

"Ohhh, Randy, you big beautiful hunk!" Kathy flipped over onto her belly, rubbing her tits against the mattress, kissing Randy's picture. Her back was arched and her ass up in the air as she continued reaming out her pussy with her stiff fingers. Cunt juice drenched her hand. She rubbed her fingers madly against her clit.

She sat up, churning her cunt on her jerking fingers, bouncing up and down and pretending to ride the boy's stiff, vertical cock as she straddled his lap. Her tits flapped. How many boys had she fucked like this in the old days in the front seat of their cars, her hot tits bouncing in their faces, their dripping tongues lapping at her excited nipples? Scores. She'd fucked scores of boys before she'd married Otto.

She imagined the boy moaning, grunting, his big blue eyes nearly popping out of his head as she tightened her cunt and bore down on his cock.

"Ohhhh yes!" moaned, imagining the teens big cock sliding in her cunt. He had a big cock, that was for sure. Unless he stuffed his cutoffs with a grapefruit, he had one hell oft big cock coiled like a cobra inside them. It was the kind of prick she'd imagined Otto as having. "You got a big cock, baby – a big, fucking cock on a big, fucking boy!"

Her heart raced. She panted fiercely, sweat beading on her forehead, sweat dripping from her nose. She hadn't masturbated with such enthusiasm and pleasure in years, maybe never. Her tits bounced like water-filled balloons. Her cunt tightened rhythmically around her jamming, twisting fingers.

She licked the photograph of Randy Chapman and snatched up his jockstrap again and inhaled the scent of his hunky teen balls. The fuck-tension surged through her ass hole and cunt and her loins erupted with spasms. Flashes of white light popped behind her eyeballs.

"I'm coming!" she moaned. "Ohhh, Randy, shoot it in me! Squirt it in my coming cunt! Ohhh, baby!"

She rotated her ass, churning her cunt on her grinding, ramming fingers, juicing hot pussycream in her hand. Randy's picture fell to the mattress as she pressed his jockstrap hard to her mouth and gnawed on the ball-flavored mesh.

When it was over, Kathy pulled the jockstrap away from her mouth. Something was caught between her teeth and she extracted it, holding it up to the light. It was a blonde hair from Randy Chapman's balls. She pulled her right hand, dripping with pussy-froth, away from her cunt.

What am I doing? she thought. What have I done? She glanced at the open bedroom door, once again expecting to see one of the Chapmans watching her.

Nobody was there. In the silence of the big house her heart sounded like a wildly pounding bass drum to her. She eased herself off the bed, pussycream dribbling down her legs like hot syrup. After drying the pussyjuice stain on Randy Chapman's bed with a hair drier, she fled for home.

CHAPTER THREE

Her cunt aching with need after Otto's usual two-minute pre-work fuck, Otto's cum sticky between her unsatisfied cuntlips, Kathy arrived at the Chapman residence at nine the next morning. She let herself in through the front door and went directly to the kitchen, where she found a bunch of dishes to be washed. She decided to wash them later.

Next, she went to the master bedroom and found the bed unmade and some dirty clothes left on the floor for washing. She would make the bed, wash the clothes, and clean up the downstairs, too – but later. She had something else on her mind at the moment. Her cunt craved release. She kicked off her shoes and walked barefoot up the plushly carpeted stairway to the second floor, ready for another jerk off session in Randy Chapman's bed.

Approaching the bedroom, she was startled to hear some noise, and her heart almost stopped. In her horny state, she'd never paused to consider that maybe she wasn't alone in the house. It hadn't occurred to her that Randy himself might still be home on this sunny summer morning. Ten feet from his open bedroom door, she froze, listening, ready to retreat and flee back down the stairs if need be. Then she heard Randy Chapman's voice.

"Ohhhhh yeahhhhhh! Ahhh fuck!"

Her heart slamming against her breastbone, Kathy crept toward the door. She had to take a peek. She couldn't control herself. From the shadowed hallway, she leaned forward and peered into the bedroom.

Randy Chapman, his deeply tanned body naked as a jaybird, lay face-down on his bed, his ass rising and falling as he humped. Under him lay a life-size sex-doll, a female manikin of flesh-colored rubber, complete with silky brunette hair and long eyelashes. The doll's legs were spread, and the boy was tucking his cock in and out of her gaping, fur-lined cunt.