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Help Around the House Part I
by Bob Peale

Author's Note: This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached, as long as no charge is made for it and it isn't changed in any way. If it is archived, it is done so on the basis that the author will have unrestricted access to the archive.

This story is a work fiction. None of the characters or events herein are based on real people, either living or dead. It was produced for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upsets you, do not read any further. By reading further you certify that you have accessed/requested access to this material willfully, and that you are an adult 21 years of age or older. You also certify that you are NOT a city, county, state, or federal law enforcement officer, official of the United States Postal Service, acting in the capacity of a representative of a telecommunications firm, and that this material does not offend the standards in your area, nor is it in violation of any of local, state, or federal law.

*******

Honestly, I didn't think it was fair that Terri wanted to go back to work. Sure, I resented giving up my sports car and club membership initially so that she could afford to stay home and raise our daughter, but I also thought that it was important that Emily have one of her parents home. I would have gladly stayed home, but Terri said that she was tired of the rat race, even though she was only a year or so away from partner at the law firm. Now, with Emily barely 3 weeks old, she'd decided that the stress of working everyday was still less than that of raising a child.

"Don't get me wrong, Michael; I really do love being a mother. But I just can't sit hear all day watching Emily breathe and feeding on demand. That's not what I went to school for!"

"Honey, I understand that you had a bad day; it happens," I said, trying to soothe her. "But you said this is what you wanted."

"And now I don't. I'm not even good at this. Hell, you can't negotiate with an infant!" she screamed.

"Emily will eventually be old enough to join a play group," I reasoned. "Then you'll have plenty of people to talk to with similar interests?"

"Michael, I made $120,000 a year. What the fuck do I have in common with a housewife?"

"I don't know. You stayed home; you can't be the only professional who ever made that decision," I offered, trying to calm her down. "Don't you think..."

I let the sentence drop. Terri had a look in her eyes that I knew all to well, the look of a woman about to deal a mortal blow. Professional opponents had learned to be wary of it, and usually I went to great pains to steer clear of it when I saw it at home. We were at an impasse, but I knew it wouldn't be for long. She had a trump card up her sleeve.

"I know we thought this would be best, but I'm not happy," she said sweetly, walking over to where I was propped against the kitchen counter. "I still want to have an active part in raising Emily; I just need some part time external stimulation. Only 40 hours or so a week."

"Terri, 40 hours is not part time!"

She refused to let me break her rhythm. "I wouldn't go back to the firm. That's too big a commitment. Bernie said that he knows of a position in house for me as a general counsel with a small telecommunications startup."

Oh shit, there it was. Bernie was the managing partner of Terri's old law firm. If she'd been talking to him, there was about a 99.9% chance that this was already decided. Telling, me was just a formality.

"Son of a bitch!" I yelled. "That's fucked up. I'm glad we got a chance to discuss this before you made a goddamn decision." I was really pissed. "You wanted to keep your ass home; I fucking rearranged my whole life, stopped traveling, slowed down, so that you could be comfortable. Waste of fucking time!"

"Honey calm down," she said softly. "You'll wake Emily. Of course it isn't a done deal. I wouldn't do it if you really didn't want me to." She stood up on her toes and kissed me softly on the lips. "I'd even be able to work from home two days a week, so I could still spend time with Emily. Plus I'd have a staff of fifteen under me; I wouldn't have to work nearly as hard as I used to," she promised, trailing her fingers over my chest. This close, I could smell wine on her breath, a sign that she'd been celebrating.

I had one bullet left. "I don't want Emily in daycare. Those places are a breeding ground for germs and bad habits," I said as firmly as I could.

"Of course not," she replied seriously. "We'll get a nanny. Someone credentialed who'd live here. My salary will more than cover it."

I lapsed into a sullen silence. I really didn't have a credible reason for opposing her return to work, other than the principle of it. Knowing this, and picking up on my tacit surrender, her attitude changed subtly. Winning made her very horny. Sometimes when she'd been on a streak in the courtroom, I wouldn't get any rest for weeks.

Teasingly, her hand left my chest, trailing down over my suit coat, and settling on my crotch. Firmly, she massaged my cock through the material of my pants, until it bulged thickly, pulsing steadily as it swelled under her manipulation.

"Terri, not now," I said weakly, my head already clouding from arousal. "We still have to settle this." I tried to brush her hand away, but that only made her grip tighter.

"Oh, I think we can probably work this out," she said, unzipping my pants and letting my cock spring free. Stroking me to full erection, she added, "Besides, you wouldn't want me to be a 'frustrated' parent, would you?"

My mind reeled as I tried vainly to find some flaw in her logic, the steady pumping of my cock making coherent thought all but impossible.

"Trust me, it'll work out fine," she assured me, sliding to her knees.

Gently, she teased the head of my cock with the tip of her tongue, making slow wet circles around the crown, while she cupped my balls in her hand. I slumped back against the counter, barely able to stand as the pleasure and the pressure started to build. I'd lost this argument, we both knew it; but at least she was a gracious enough winner to make the battle worth my while.

Covering my cock head with her mouth, she alternately traced the ridge and worked her tongue into the slit, causing conflicting networks of nerves to stand on end. Every muscle in my body was taut, my cock straining to grow even harder. She increased the suction as she moved her lips along my shaft, relaxing her throat so that she could swallow me whole. Then she would retreat back toward the tip, letting her teeth drag lightly over my cock. I could already feel a helluva cum brewing!

When the first drops of precum reached her tongue, she stood up, releasing me. My cock jutted red and angry out in front of me, throbbing from the orgasm that almost was.

"Terri," I groaned, my chest pounding heavily. "You can't stop now!"

She smiled wickedly. "Can I go back to work?"

I was going to burst something if I didn't cum; I was leaking on my suit, sprawled on the countertop. My body trembled, tormented by a breeze coming from somewhere just strong enough to torture my swollen penis. I nodded mutely, silently begging her to finish.

"Thank you, sweetie," she said, leaning forward to kiss me, brushing my cock with her hip and sending new tremors through my body.

I could taste myself on her lips; my balls tightened painfully as it made me further aroused. With renewed enthusiasm she dropped back to her knees and began sloppily licking the underside of my shaft. I don't know how long I stood there whimpering under the assault before she finally took pity on me and swallowed me deep again, forcing my cock head back into her throat. While she pumped her mouth along my cock, she massaged my balls with one hand and my ass with the other. Involuntarily, I began fucking her face, trying to drive my cock deeper, and she responded by sucking more vigorously. I was so overwhelmed by all of the sensations that I didn't notice that her hand had moved until I felt her finger tentatively probe the rim of my asshole. I wanted to shout, to tell her to stop, but I still couldn't muster the power of speech. Picking up the pace, she sucked me in deeply at the same moment that she worked a finger deep into my ass.

I could not have controlled the flood if I tried. Fighting the invasion, my asshole contracted around her finger, which acted like a trigger to let loose a torrent of cum. I screamed deep and long as it poured down her throat, Terri gobbling every stream greedily. My cock grew increasingly more sensitive, until it was virtually on autopilot, the slightest movement causing another spray of cum to shoot out. She let her finger slide out as I dropped to the floor, exhausted.

"So, when do you start?" I asked when I could finally speak again.

"Oh, not until we find the right nanny," she answered cheerfully.

Unfortunately, after 6 weeks we still hadn't found a nanny that both of us liked, but at least we had narrowed our choices down. Most nights (in between feeding, bathing and burping) were spent discussing the pros and cons of various candidates. One night, the telephone interrupted us just as we thought that we might finally be close to settling on one.

"Mr. Watson?" a lightly accented female voice asked.

"Yes, this is Michael Watson," I replied hesitantly, afraid that I'd just been caught by a telemarketer.

"I understand that you are looking for someone to take care of your daughter. If you haven't hired someone, I'd like to interview for the job."

"Who are you?" I asked, uncomfortable that this call had come unsolicited.

"I apologize, that was rude of me. My name is Kathleen Sinclair."

"Well, Ms. Sinclair, what makes you think that you can just call out of the blue and ask for an interview?"

"Because I am very good at what I do; some say I'm the best. If you'd like, I could drop off some references. I don't live that far away."

She seemed pretty insistent, and I figured that it was easier to let her drop them off, so I agreed. Twenty minutes later, our doorbell rang. I don't know what I was expecting, but Kathleen definitely wasn't it. From her accent, I suspected she was black, but I hadn't really been prepared for her to be so dark. Her skin was a deep, burnished color, like mahogany or dark cherry wood. She was tall, at least 5'10", and athletically slim, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Her dress was light colored, cut across her neck so as not to show cleavage, with a full, pleated bottom that reached below her knees. Although it was fairly warm out, she did not sweat; hell, she didn't even look uncomfortable. Her face was smooth and youthful, with no makeup save a conservative lipstick, and her hair was pulled back tightly in a bun.

As if on cue, Emily started to cry, and Kathleen politely brushed past me and went into the family room, where Terri was trying to settle her down. Without asking, she scooped her up out of her carrier and began to murmur soothingly to her. Terri looked at me and I shrugged; what harm could she do? We were both there.

"That's a little lady," Kathleen cooed, taking Emily in her arms. Expertly, she massaged the baby, relaxing her, until Emily was a puddle of gurgling contented flesh in her arms. Emily's eyes closed and she settled into a blissful sleep.

"She's only going to stay asleep for 15 minutes or so; it looks like we're pretty close to feeding time."

Terri and I exchanged surprised looks. How did she know that?

She looked at Terri. "Are you nursing?" Terri shook her head. "Then point me toward the bottles!" she said sternly.

"In the fridge," Terri said, gesturing toward a doorway that led into the kitchen. "But we can..."

"Pahhh." she interrupted, waving Terri off with her free hand as she walked into the kitchen.

We heard the fridge open, aaccompanied by a series of noises that indicated that she was preparing the bottle. Throughout the entire exercise, we never heard a peep from Emily.

"A little pushy, don't you think?" Terri whispered.

"Yeah," I whispered back. "But she's great with Emily."

Once Emily was fed and settled in for a nap, we invited Kathleen into the family room. Although her manner wasn't exactly endearing, we were both growing tired of the search. We decided there was nothing to lose by at least interviewing Kathleen, and over the course of the next ninety minutes we learned a great deal about her. Born and raised in Trinidad, she'd left five years ago to get away from a bad marriage. Employment as a live in caregiver allowed her to stay here, with an eye on eventually becoming a citizen. Surprisingly, she was in her mid forties; if we'd had to guess, we would have placed her more like two or three years older than us, around 35. She'd worked for two families since she'd moved here; her current employer, as well as the one before them, was moving out of the area, and she preferred to stay here.

"Well, thank you for coming, Ms. Sinclair," I said, standing to indicate that the interview had concluded. "We'll be in touch to let you know our decision." I extended my hand to help her up.

She stood without my help. "Thank you for taking the time to see me. Your daughter is lovely," she said, placing her references in my outstretched hand.

The other candidates clearly had much better personalities, at least when it came to interacting with us, but there really was no telling how good they were with children. Despite her arrogance, we suspected that Kathleen probably was the most qualified for the job. We decided to let her references make the determination.

Surprisingly, they all had nothing but positive things to say about her. We asked specifically about her attitude toward adults. Both couples attributed it to a combination of her being foreign, a little older, and the marriage she had left behind. They talked about how good she was with their children, and how sorry they were to lose her.

So Kathleen got the job. She was able to start at the beginning of the month, and Terri went back to work the week after. Having a live-in employee did take some getting used. Ironically, it helped that Kathleen seemed to have no interest in becoming our friend. Her detachment and polite civility made it easier to think of her as a subordinate, which suited all of us fine.

Undeniably, Emily absolutely adored her. Within weeks, we noticed that she had grown even-tempered, playful, and easy going. Soon after we relinquished the baby monitor, the night crying dwindled to almost non-existent. And admittedly, it wasn't so bad with Terri back to work. She seemed renewed and enthusiastic. Time spent as a family improved, and our sex life was wonderful; before Emily was born, I got laid once, maybe twice a week. Now, less than four times was a slow week! All in all, the arrangement was working out fine.

About six weeks after Kathleen started working for us, I woke up starving. The house was quiet, so I took care not to make any noise as I closed our bedroom door behind me and padded down to the kitchen in my pajama bottoms. While I was making a snack, I heard Emily start to cry, but it stopped before I could reach the stairs, so I went back and finished what I was doing. After I'd cleaned up, I went back upstairs. On a whim, I pushed open the nursery door and peeked in; Emily was sleeping soundly.

Although she had separate quarters, there was a door that connected Kathleen's room to the baby's room so that she could attend to her easier. The door was ajar, and I could hear strange sounds coming from within; Kathleen probably thought that the nursery door was shut firmly, when in fact she'd left it slightly ajar also, so I hadn't made any noise when I peeked in..

Moving over to Kathleen's doorway, I had an amazing view of her sprawled out on the bed. Emily did not sleep with a nightlight, so as long as I didn't stand directly in the doorway, Kathleen wouldn't be able to see me, although I could see her fairly well. She was laying there totally nude. In the dim light, her skin looked liquid, her movements causing ripples across the surface. Her tits, not much larger than my fist, were capped with ink black nipples roughly the size of a quarter. As I watched her try to slide a very thin white dildo into her pussy, I felt my cock stir, poking through the fly in my pajamas. She seemed to be having problems getting more than the tip inserted. It was new; the packaging in a crumpled heap next to her. At first I thought she was just teasing herself, but I watched her frustration grow as she tried to work it deeper. She tried everything, from spreading her legs in a wide "V", to lathering the dildo with her tongue, but nothing worked. I guess it had been a long time since she'd been with a man. It looked like her pussy was almost as tight as a virgin's. I could smell her from where I stood, and it made my cock ache. I found myself willing the dildo to slide in farther.

Finally, she tossed it aside in irritation and carefully slid her middle finger into her pussy, her palm facing down so she could massage her clit while she fingered herself. He face relaxed noticeably as she rhythmically thrust her finger in and out, the sloppy wet sounds of her finger striking home filling the room. After great effort she was able to add an additional finger, but it was clear that there was not enough room for any more.

I should have been appalled; here was this woman fucking herself next door to my sleeping baby daughter, but the truth was, I found this whole scene hot. I reached down and started to stroke my pounding cock, feeling it grow even thicker and harder in my hand. I was matching her pace, when, without warning, she removed her hand and began rolling both of her nipples between her thumb and forefinger, stopping only to give them the occasional tug. Her eyes were closed, and her lips parted, her breath coming in ragged, shallow pants. Her pussy glistened in the moonlight, and I could see the bright pink of her inner lips. I pumped my cock in time to her tugging her nipples.

Her face, usually severe unless she was talking to Emily, was awash with emotion, and I could see liquid actually dripping out of her slit. Suddenly, she arched her back sharply, keeping hold of her nipples the whole time, thrust her hips forward invitingly, and started to shake violently. I used this opportunity to steal silently back to my room.

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