A Pair of Au Pair Ch. 01

It had been a while but I was finally going home on leave.

During most of my time in the Corps I had been living with Cheryl off base, but last March that had changed.

There had been a mix-up with the duty watches and it turned out that I was on duty on Wednesday and not Tuesday so when I reported for the duty briefing they told me to fuck off and come back the next day. I think you can already guess what happened. I decided not to call Cheryl but just surprise her at home. Instead I was the one surprised.

When I opened the door to our small apartment, there she was... on her knees in the middle of the living room with some guy's cock in her mouth. In hindsight, I feel I probably should have beaten the living shit out of the cock's owner but I didn't think of it then. I was in shock I guess.

It was like on the Six-Million Dollar Man when Steve Austin speeds up and everything goes into slow motion. I took note of how sexy Cheryl looked naked, on her knees with this guy's hard prick slipping back and forth between her lips. Cheryl always was such a talented cocksucker. Her hands were up between his legs lightly stroking his balls and both of them had their eyes closed with the pleasure of the moment.

Now keep that picture in your mind as I start the first of many digressions...

I had grown up with a slight inferiority complex over the size of my prick, due for the most part on the fact that the only other one I had to compare with was my father's and his was huge. After exposure to other ones in the showers after high-school sports and even later in the Corps, I had come to the conclusion that I was about average. Of course it doesn't help when girlfriend after girlfriend tells you that size-wise your cock is neither too large or too small but "just right." It's a bit like being told that your prick is like the Baby Bear's porridge in the Goldilocks story, "just right."

Anyway, back to that moment forever frozen in my memory and me noticing that this guy's cock was enormous! I was amazed that Cheryl wasn't choking on this huge piece of man-meat that was plowing in and out of her mouth.

He started to grunt and speed up the movement of his hips.

"Oh, baby I'm gonna cum."

It was then that Cheryl opened her eyes and spotted me standing in the doorway. Needless to stay, everything happened all at once. Cheryl gasped and fell backwards on her tight little ass. And just as the head of this guy's schlong popped out of her mouth, it started spewing thick spurts of cum all over Cheryl's naked tits as well as all over the carpet, the coffee table and even as far as the couch.

Cheryl just sat there on her ass, watching me as I watched this guy empty out more cum than I believed possible for two balls to hold. No really... it may have been the "Six-Million Dollar" effect I mentioned earlier but it seemed like this guy took at least five minutes to empty himself all over my living room.

That's when time went back to normal and I zipped into the bedroom and grabbed my kit bag (always pre-packed for quick deployment) from the closet. I ignored Cheryl's pleas for understanding and quickly left, heading back to the base. I moved into the barracks for the next couple of weeks and only went back to the apartment twice more, once to pack up my stuff and the second time to sign over the lease to Cheryl.

This sort of thing happens a lot in the Corps. So much so, that we have a bulletin board called the "Slut Board" where guys post pictures of their unfaithful girlfriends and even wives. There's a bit of competition as to the most compromising photo posted. After all, these girls had been fucking around on us and we deserved our revenge. I posted a picture of Cheryl that she had probably forgotten about. It was a polaroid I had taken of her tits wrapped around my prick and my cum all over her beautiful face. It was a testament to the ingenuity of the young marines in my company that my picture was nowhere near the raunchiest one on display.

Once again, in hindsight, I can see that Cheryl and I had little in common but an incredible appetite for sex. We had planned to use my leave to go camping a bit, but mostly it was just an excuse to get off into the woods and do some fucking in a natural setting.

So now that I had my leave coming up and I had nowhere to spend it, I decided it was time to go home.

Now I must digress again and tell you a bit about my family.

My father was a big-shot VP at IBM and when he was in college he got my mother knocked up and married her (as they were forced to do in those days). Thus I was conceived. As my Dad didn't really love my mother, he cheated on her all through their marriage. There's even a story of how he went out for a pack of smokes on their honeymoon and when he didn't return immediately my mother went out to look for him. She found him in the housekeeping closet, balls deep in one of the hotel's cute little Latina maids.

Just how true this story is, I have no clue. However I have heard variations of it told by both my mother and my father. They both treat the story as an amusing one to entertain the guests at cocktail parties.

My mother was an independent woman in an age that was just beginning to recognise that there was such a thing. She had a degree in languages (fluent in six) but she put it all aside to be the perfect wife and mother to my father (an upcoming young executive). She soon tired of this role and went back to school. She ended up a fully qualified CGA and then started her own company.

It began as a small and specialized one helping small businesses to do their bookkeeping. When computers got small enough and cheap enough, she expanded into teaching small business owners how to do their own books on a PC. (Although she did keep many clients on a retainer basis). Her growing company caught the attention of a large state-wide accounting firm and they made her an offer she couldn't refuse. So now she works as a VP for this firm and her original small business is merely a subsidiary of that larger firm.

As to children... there's me (the black sheep) who quit university half way through my first year (I was stoned most of the time) and joined the Marine Corps to get myself straightened out; my sister Kaitlin (two years my junior) who started a small independent cell-phone company that has grown to become one of the biggest in the mid-west; and the twins, who were born in a futile attempt to try and save my parents' marriage. My parents had waited until Kaitlin and I were old enough to baby sit and then my mother got pregnant. They weren't counting on twins and definitely not on the unholy duo that was my brother George and sister Jennifer.

So that's the family as of the time of the story... not uber-rich but certainly upper-upper class. Both my mother and my father own their own homes free and clear and they are large roomy ones at that.

So with that out of the way, we can start the real story... really, I promise.

It was the summer of 1982 and I was coming home on leave. In the airport I had picked up a copy of the paperback "The Hite Report on Male Sexuality" as I had read the "Female Sexuality" version several years ago and it had taught me quite a bit about what women want as far as sex is concerned. It had certainly made me a better lover and I was curious as to what I might learn from this new book. Also a Playboy magazine that was floating around the barracks had mentioned that it was a good read for guys as well as gals. (See, I do read the articles.)

I showed up at the front door of my Mother's place late in the afternoon and walked right in. She wasn't back from the office yet and so my loud holler was greeted by screams of excitement from the ten-year-old twins as they ran into the foyer to jump all over me. By the unrestrained quality of their greeting I knew my mother wasn't home as she would never have stood for such loudness in HER home.

Within seconds, my welcome hugs disposed of, George and Jen were rooting through my duffle looking for anything even remotely present-like. It wasn't long before they had each found their gifts and were busy unwrapping. It was then that I noticed a young girl standing off to the side of the stairway.

She was a mousey looking thing. Her hair was the first thing I noticed as it was tied back in a bun that attempted (but did not succeed) to contain the frizziness of her auburn tresses. She wore little to no make-up and glasses that just shouted out "librarian!" As for clothing, she wore a simple baggy dress that had to be my mother's choice as it was perfectly suited for an eighty-year old woman and looked very out of place on this young girl.

"Hello." I said.

George popped his head up from his attempt to transform his gift from a truck into a robot and said, "She's the new au pair. She doesn't speak much English."

"She's from France," Jen added while trying to figure out what the rock and tools I had gotten her were all about. (She was into dinosaurs and so I had bought her an artificial rock that contained a complete dino skeleton that had to be carefully chiselled out).

"Hello." the girl replied with a very thick French accent.

George rattled off something to the girl in French that I couldn't understand and she smiled. Her smile seemed to transform her face, which up to that point had been quite plain, into something quite pretty. It made me re-assess her attractiveness and wonder what her body might be like under that hideous dress.

"I told her you couldn't speak French," George explained. "Mom hired her and the other ones so that Jen and me would learn French."

"She's new, though," Jen interjected, "The first ones were too pretty and they got boyfriends and quit."

I could understand that. I wouldn't want to work for my mother either. It was obvious why Mother was happy with this one. As long as she didn't smile, no one would give this girl a second glance, especially in that awful dress.

"Je m'apple Steve." I introduced myself to her, fully exhausting my entire knowledge of the French language (with the exception of the words "Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir?" from the song Lady Marmalade, which I wasn't about to try on her with the twins present). My accent must have been atrocious as it warranted another smile from her.

With that second smile I felt a stirring from Little Willy down below and mentally chastised myself for thinking that way about the au pair. I could just hear my mother's voice, "Fucking the help is something I would expect from your father, not from you Stephen."

"I am Sophie." she replied still smiling. I knew I would get myself in trouble if I attempted much more conversation with her. So, not really knowing how much she understood, I politely excused myself, gathered up my stuff and carried it up to my room.

I puttered around for a while, had a shower and changed into less travel-rumpled clothing. Just about then, my mother arrived home and I descended for supper. Cook had, as always, whipped up an amazing meal.

Oops, time for another digression... just how do these things keep popping up?

My mother always goes on about how one should never have servants in a classless society such as ours, but when I was young she entertained a senior VP from IBM and after tasting mother's lemon meringue pie he said, "This reminds me of my mother's cooking..." my mother's face beamed, but he continued, "My mother was a lousy cook." It turned out he was just joking, but Mrs. Sanchez showed up the next day and never left. I was ten before I found out she had a name other than "Cook." Later, when my mother's business was going strong, a twice-a-week housekeeper was added, and obviously with myself and Kait fleeing the nest, an au pair was employed to look after the twins.

For somebody hellbent on assuring everybody that class was not an issue she was certainly shocked when she found out that I was dating Isabella Sanchez (Cook's daughter) in my senior year of high school. That didn't last, mostly because the two of us were in the relationship more for the shock value it caused our mothers than out of any true love. Though I have to admit the sex was amazing and up to the time of this story we'd remained as good friends to each other as time and distance had allowed.

The rest of the evening passed without incident. Afterwards I turned down the after-supper drink which my mother offered me, as I preferred not to watch her use alcohol as an analgesic for her painful life. Something that I have on good authority (Kait told me in a long phone conversation), was her usual evening habit.

I made my way upstairs to my room and as I undressed I was surprised at just how fatigued I was from the long flight and the trial that supper with my mother had almost been.

I got into bed (I do sleep naked of course) and as I drifted off to sleep, my thoughts again strayed to what might lie beneath the little-old-lady clothes of the au pair.

* * *

The next day started with me arising at 0530 hours for my morning piss. As I always do when at home, I made a lot of noise in a futile effort to awaken my mother and then, without dressing, I walked down the hallway to the bathroom with my morning boner flapping in the breeze. Every once in a while my mother will awaken and notice my state of undress and get ticked off.

It may seem to you very dysfunctional, that I could take such simple joy out of pissing off my mother and to a certain extent I'm sure it is. However don't get me wrong, I do love my mother and aside from trying to shock her out of her deeply ingrained hypocrisy I don't think I treat her badly. She definitely got the short straw when it came to my Dad and I suppose it was his infidelity to her that made Cheryl's betrayal of me so hurtful.

I was halfway down the hall, just opposite the guestroom door when it opened and Sophie stepped out. She startled me and I jumped back, hit the wall and fell to the floor. On my way down, I reached out to stop my fall and succeeded only in pulling Sophie down on top of me.

She was wearing a variant of yesterday's little-old-lady clothes in that she was dressed in a cotton nightgown that closed at the neck and descended almost to her ankles. The fall had pushed her gown up and revealed her ass, quite an attractive one at that.

She did the beautiful smile thing again and we both started to talk, myself apologizing all over the place and her saying something in French far too quickly for me to understand a word. It was then that she realized that I was naked and that her hand was resting on my morning piss-on. She jumped back with a start, hitting her head on the guest room doorknob and landing back on the floor with her legs splayed.

She took a moment to recover and during that time I took in her lovely slim and muscular legs, which I followed up her thighs to the very attractive auburn patch between her thighs. Due to her position on the floor her pussy was wide open and I could see the hood of her clitoris poking out atop her beautifully pouting pussy lips. She quickly covered herself up and turned red as a beet. Never having been one to embarrass easily, I was surprised to find myself blushing as well.

Covering myself as best I could with one hand, I got to my feet and held out my other hand to help Sophie to rise. When she had regained her footing I quickly turned about and dashed back to my room. Once there I realized that I didn't have anything to put on, as I don't own pyjamas or a robe. I quickly pulled on my boxers, slipped into my jogging gear and opened the door.

The hall was clear and I scooted down to the bathroom and went in. As I was standing in front of the toilet I realized that compounding my morning boner, which was the natural result of bladder pressure, was the stiffening caused by the sexual arousal that had occurred from the brief glimpse I had had of Sophie's lovely cunt.

Through sheer force of will I managed to control my stiffy and empty my bladder, but I was beginning to think that the two weeks leave at my mother's was not as good an idea as I had originally envisaged. After I finished, I walked through the house to the front door without encountering anyone else and proceeded on my morning run.

As was my usual routine during my few times back home, I ran down the street to the park, through the park to the railroad tracks and then along the tracks for a couple of klicks. I turned off the tracks and sprinted through another park into the really ritzy area of town. I have never had a problem doing my morning run as the sidewall haircut and the navy-blue jogging suit with USMC in big gold letters tends to reassure folks. At least that's what I think, as I've never been pulled over by the cops while running through expensive neighborhoods at a very early (at least for most people) hour.

On a previous trip home I had discovered this back street in the posh neighborhood. (It ran behind all the old estates and allowed access for power, utilities and tradesmen to all the old mansions without being visible to the owners). On this previous occasion I had been by at about six in the morning and had witnessed a young woman of ample endowment doing calisthenics on the back lawn of one of the houses. While it was not an unusual sight to see someone exercising in their yard, the fact that she was doing so completely naked was highly unusual.

I figured that a breather was needed at the time and so I paused to admire her form and watch her magnificent mammaries bounce about. She had straight, long blond hair tied back in a ponytail, but the dark thatch between her legs told the truth of her natural shade. Her breasts were quite large and firm and had lovely areolas and nipples.

She was performing a variant of what we in the Corps called the "Royal Canadian Air Force Aerobics Routine." She was quite a sight to behold and I could feel that Little Willy was impressed as well. I watched with a growing erection as she finished the routine and went back into her house.

The next day I just happened to be pausing there at the same time and happily noticed that she was about her morning routine again. I figured that the fence and bushes at the end of her property had effectively screened me from her view. However, on the third day when she had completed her calisthenics she shocked me by waving good-bye to me as she went back into her house. The next few days, at the same time every day, I watched and she performed and although I was sorely tempted, we never spoke. By then my leave was over and I returned to Base and my doomed relationship with Cheryl. I had never had the opportunity of checking for her since. I was hoping that now that I was free, I might bump into her again.

My timing was bang on that day even though I had had to push a little harder to make up for the time lost on the hallway floor. However my punctuality was not rewarded, as she didn't appear. I was determined to try again the following day and I made my way back to my mother's place.

I got back home at 0745 hours and took a shower, dressed and went down to the kitchen. Cook was only here for supper meals unless Mother had arranged otherwise ahead of time. So I whipped up a pan full of eggs and bacon. Before I had finished with the eggs, Sophie appeared in the kitchen.

"Hello" she said, a slight blush manifesting itself on her face. She was dressed for the day in her little-old-lady garb.

"Bon jour," I replied. The slight heat on my face indicated that I was matching her embarrassment.

I apologized for the incident in the hallway earlier and was rewarded by a sexy smile. We got to talking and while I ate she cooked breakfast for the rest of the family. In response to my questioning, she told me that she and her best friend, Christine, had taken a break after their first year of university and had applied to an au pair program in order to see more of the world. She also revealed that they were from a small town in Southern France whose name I can't recall.