Aristippus - Vicky's Story

Upstairs were the girl's rooms, along with another guest room, a massive play area, and two more bathrooms. Jillian, the older girl, had her own ensuite bathroom, and Kaylyn shared the other with the guest bedroom. The upstairs play area was bigger than the apartment Rob and I shared in Vegas.

Then walking back downstairs, they showed me the kitchen, which faced the backyard and the pool. I was amazed at the professional-grade appliances, and the fact that they looked like they were actually used on a daily basis. Behind that were the utility room, several pantries, and access to the garage. And facing the street was my room. I guess I should say, my apartment. It didn't have a full kitchen, but other than that, it had every amenity of a separate apartment. With one important difference, it did not have a door directly to the outside. I would have to enter and exit my room through the kitchen.

The driver had already placed all my bags in my new room, and for the rest of the day, I got settled in. That evening, Margot and Raymond had prepared a fabulous welcoming dinner, and as we all sat together for the first time as a family, they went over my duties.

First and foremost, I was expected to be on duty 24/7. That's not to mean I can't take personal time if needed. But in general, I was the girls' nanny and constant companion. I was expected to get them up and dressed in the morning, and though I was not expected to prepare breakfast for Margot and Raymond, I was expected to make sure the girls had a nutritious breakfast. Make their lunches and get Jillian to school on time. I had the use of the family's Lexus Minivan as well as a family credit card to buy gas and take the girls shopping as needed. No homemade clothes for these girls.

However, I was not expected to prepare dinner for the girls, unless both Margot and Raymond were not home. Margot was a Celebrity Publicist, and she had a couple of A-list stars, plus several lesser-known Hollywood types. Her job caused her to travel frequently, which was the principal reason they needed a full-time nanny. Raymond was an Attorney to the Stars, though I learned that most of his clients were production companies and not actual performers. And though he rarely left town, he entertained frequently and was often not available to take care of the girls in the evening.

When both Margot and Raymond were in town, they entertained at home at least once a month, and unless it was a kid-friendly party, I was expected to keep the girls upstairs. They also informed me that they usually went on a family vacation, once or twice a year, and I would not be accompanying them - unless it was a working vacation, and then I would be expected to join them.

All of this made sense to me, and though it left me with very little free time, these people and this house all seemed so amazing, that I felt like it would be the easiest job of my life. Plus, neither girl was in diapers, so I would hopefully never be tasked with that nasty job again unless I eventually had children of my own.

And after dinner, when the three of us adults were doing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen, there was one more requirement. This was their home, not mine. And it was expected that I would not have guests over. No friends, no family, and especially no romantic interests. Apparently, that was the issue with earlier nannies. And they both wanted to make it clear that the no guest policy was a condition of employment. I assured them that I was single, that I had never been to California in my life, and that I certainly didn't know anyone here. I then got the feeling that was one of the reasons that I was hired in the first place, as I had no connection to Los Angeles or California.

The following morning, I set my alarm for six o'clock, which turned out to be plenty of time to get the girls up and dressed. Breakfast was easy, as little girls don't eat much anyway. And since Margot was working from home, I didn't have to load both girls in the van when I took Jillian to school. I had never driven a mini-van before, but the Lexus was very nice and almost effortless to drive. Jillian knew the way to her school, and getting back and forth was only about a fifteen-minute drive each way.

I really appreciated that Margot was working from home, as it allowed me to get to know her better and learn my way around the house. I was also happy to learn that they had a full-time housekeeper. Her name was Maria, and she let on that she didn't understand English, but Margot assured me that she understood just fine. It was just a self-defense mechanism, and rest assured that she understood every word. She just didn't like speaking English, so she acted like she couldn't. Her husband, Arturo, also worked for the Blackstone's, but more on a part-time basis - usually two or three days per week. He did all the yard work, washed their cars, maintained the pool, and did other handyman jobs as needed. And his English was just fine, Margot told me. However, sometimes it was just easier to explain things to Arturo, than trying to explain any special projects directly to Maria.

Margot also told me that Maria did all the household cleaning and all of the laundry. However, I'd have to clean my own room and bathroom, as well as strip and remake my own bed. But just throw all of the sheets and towels in the utility room, and she would wash them. And for my personal laundry, I was welcome to use the utility room on evenings and weekends. All of that sounded great. But even better news was when Margot told me what my salary would be. Raymond and I had never discussed it, and I really had no idea what they were considering. But to my surprise, it was twice what I even considered possible, and I was very, very happy.

The next two years were some of the happiest years of my life. I loved the Blackstones, and I'm sure they were equally pleased. Jillian and Kaylyn became just like little sisters to me. And for Margot and Raymond, I couldn't imagine better bosses. They treated me with dignity and respect. They even took me on vacation with them to Hawaii. But I was not so lucky when they took the girls to Italy. I was left at home, and it wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't for the No Guests in the House Rule. They did say I could use the mini-van, so I spent most of my days exploring the city.

Just like the Lego Movie - Everything is Awesome, described how much I loved this job. However, over time, Raymond's eyes did begin to wander, if you know what I mean. By then, I was in my mid-twenties, and I did not dress provocatively. But I could see Raymond undressing me with his eyes from time to time. And if we were out at the pool, and I was in a swimsuit, he could barely keep his eyes off me.

Somewhere in the beginning of my third year of working for the Blackstones, Raymond began asking me for little personal favors when Margot wasn't home. It started innocently enough, like dinner together after the girls had gone to bed. Serving me wine, sitting by the pool after dark, and just chatting amiably. It then advanced to him asking me into his bedroom to help him dress. Simple little things like brushing off his coat with a lint brush. Or straightening his tie or helping him with his cuff links. I was slowly becoming his valet - but only when Margot was out of town. I knew I was being groomed, but I went along with it anyway.

One night when Margot was out of town, Raymond had prepared dinner for the four of us, and after the girls had eaten and gone back upstairs to watch TV, Raymond helped me with the dishes. "Jeez, what a day," he said as I rinsed the dishes and he loaded the dishwasher.

"Hard day?" I asked

"Oh my God," he moaned. "That judge is just a fucking asshole."

I was surprised, as Raymond rarely spoke like that. I won't say never, but it was a little unusual. "Stressed?" I asked.

"No shit," he said. "I hate asking this, but after you put the girls to bed, would you mind giving me a massage?"

I admit I was surprised. But after giving it a quick thought, I said, "Sure, no problem."

Together we finished cleaning up the kitchen, and as I went upstairs to help get the girls asleep, Raymond went to the master suite and took a hot, soaking shower. Of course, it took longer than expected to get the girls down, but once the girls were safely tucked in, I headed back downstairs. As I walked into Raymond's room, he was lying on his belly, butt naked, in the center of his bed. "Oh!" I exclaimed.

He turned his head toward me without moving his body and asked, "Is this alright?"

"Huh... yes," I stuttered. "I just wasn't - I mean, I guess I wasn't expecting...."

"I can put something on, if it would make you more comfortable," he offered.

Okay, for all you haters out there, I should have left the room. I should have just gone back to my room and locked the door. Margot had been the ideal employer and, at least in my mind, a friend. She did not deserve this, and I knew better. But Raymond had also been a good friend, and though he was twenty years my senior, he was a handsome man. As the old saying goes, Men become distinguished, and Women become old. And lying there, fresh from the shower and naked as the day he was born, he looked very distinguished.

I paused for a moment, staring at his nude frame before slowly walking toward him. As I reached the side of the bed, I slipped my shoes off and knelt beside him as I gently moved up onto the mattress. Resting my hands on his back, I softly asked, "Where do I start?"

Quickly responding, Raymond said, "Oh, start on my shoulders, and then work your way down my back. It's my lower back that is really killing me." As I began to gently massage the back of his neck and his shoulders, he added, "There's some massage oil on the table there."

It was clear that he had been planning this for some time. I may have been born at night, but I wasn't born last night. And yet I continued. I reached over, and taking the bottle of massage oil, I applied a long lazy drizzle to his back. And I should add, I didn't do this intentionally, but the drizzle extended all the way to the top of his butt crack. And as I began to rub the oil deep into his skin, he urged me on, with "Harder, harder - press harder."

Except for my shoes, I was fully dressed. Wearing white cotton long pants and a three-quarter sleeve beige Jersey top, there was nothing sexy about my outfit. I looked like your typical twenty-something nanny or young mom. But in some perverse way, I felt sexy. And not sexy in an alluring way, but sexy in a domestic way. I had known Raymond for three years, and though I had never really anticipated this experience, I was enjoying it. I had not had sex since the night of make-up sex with Rob three days before I left him. And I missed the feeling of sensually touching another human being. So, curse me if you must, but it felt good.

After fifteen or twenty minutes of rubbing, massaging, and kneading Raymond's backside - from his neck to his butt cheeks, he asked, "Mind if I flip over now?"

Secretly I had been hoping for him to roll over for at least ten minutes, so without hesitation, I said, "No, no problem." I raised my hands from his back, and he instantly flipped over like a Mexican Jumping Bean. And there it was, Raymond's most prized possession, standing proud and tall, like a Tomcat's Tail.

I just stared at his rigid obelisk for a moment or two as bolts of sexual energy shot throughout my body. But as my butterflies began to settle down, I slowly wrapped both hands around him and gently began to stroke. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he let out the lowest and deepest moan I had ever heard as every ounce of air left his lungs through his gaping mouth.

Kneeling at his side, I continued to stroke Raymond for at least a minute or two. And once he was able to safely breathe again, he asked, "May I make a request?"

I expected him to say something like strip naked or suck me. And I think I was prepared for either or both, but what he said next surprised me. "Sit with your legs crossed and face me." I didn't exactly understand what he wanted, but I followed his instructions. And once I was sitting Indian style or Criss-cross-applesauce as we would have said in preschool, he swung one leg over my head and scooted forward until his crotch was in my lap. He took my left hand and gently placed it back on his cock.

I didn't understand why this particular position, and why he didn't ask me to remove my clothes, but he was the boss, and this was apparently what he wanted - or was it?

Within less than a minute, as I continued to slowly stroke him with my left hand, he took my right hand and placed it under his balls. I then assumed he wanted me to massage his nuts with one hand while I continued to Jack him with the other. But I'm sure he knew I was right-handed, so why was my dominant hand on his balls? Well, I soon found out.

"Vicky," he said sweetly. I looked up at him and nodded. "May I ask another favor?" This time I looked him straight in the eyes and nodded yes again. "Have you ever heard of a prostate massage?"

Smiling, I sheepishly said, "No." I had heard the term prostate, and I knew it had something to do with male anatomy. Because I'd heard of men having prostate issues, but never women. But honestly, other than that, I didn't know what he was talking about.

"The prostate is a walnut-sized gland inside men, just behind the testicles," he started explaining as I continued to slowly stroke him. "The gland makes the semen that carries the sperm when men ejaculate."

I had his nut sack in my right hand, and there was nothing behind his testicles - other than his butt hole, of course. I twitched the fingers on my right hand up and down, but there was nothing there but wrinkled skin. As a puzzled look came over my face, he added, "You have to insert your finger to be able to feel it."

I quickly withdrew my fingers and right hand as I stopped my stroke on his oily rod with my left and just clenched it tightly. "Uh, I'm not sure I'm ready for that," I sighed.

"It feels incredibly good, and I would really love for you to at least try it, he said as I loosened my grip on his dick. "You can wear a glove if you like." And before I could say no, he scooted up the bed, and opening the drawer of his bedside table, pulled out a single latex glove and a tube of K-Y Jelly. The tube was not a brand new one, as it had obviously been used before, so apparently, this was something he was very accustomed to.

As he scooted back down into position, he handed me the glove and removed the cap from the tube of personal lubricant. I'm sure I still had a shocked look on my face, but I slipped the glove on my right hand and allowed Raymond to apply a big squirt of jelly to my index finger. He then raised his legs and holding my now gloved hand, guided my finger to his awaiting asshole. It slipped in much easier than I had expected, and as I began to slowly slide my finger in and out, he asked, "Can you feel it?"

"Feel what," I said inquisitively.

"The prostate," he moaned, as obviously I was already doing something right. "Curl your finger up, like you're about to do the come hither gesture. You should be able to feel a gland about the size of a walnut. That's my prostate." I followed his instructions, and as I began to recognize what he was talking about, he wrapped his hand around my left hand and urged me to continue stroking his vertical pole. I have to admit, it was a little like patting your head while rubbing your tummy. But after a minute or two, I sort of got the hang of it.

And as soon as I had mastered the technique, his orgasm immediately began to build. His body tightened, his breath quickened, his face turned red - and then suddenly, he erupted like Mount Vesuvius. His load shot at least two or more feet straight up, and he let out the loudest groan I have ever heard a human make. I was worried that he might even awaken the girls. But to be honest, I don't think he cared. I stopped the massage of his butt hole, but I increased my grip on his dick and doubled my stroke. He came again and again, and the fruits of our combined efforts lay in big puddles and splats all over his belly.

As his orgasm slowly subsided, I gingerly removed my finger from his ass, as well as my other hand from his pulsating cock. He could still barely breathe, but as soon as he was able to speak, he said, Thank you, Vicky, thank you, thank you."

It took me a moment to realize that was it. Apparently, we were finished. Raymond wasn't going to fuck me and evidently didn't even care if I got undressed. He just wanted me to get his nuts off for him, and ostensibly I did a good job. I slid out from under his legs and off the bed. And other than dropping his legs to the mattress, he made no further moves. I walked to the bathroom, removed the glove by pulling it inside-out from my wrist, and buried it deep in his wastebasket. I then washed my hands with soap and hot water for a good three minutes before walking back to see if he was okay.

I think he had all but fallen asleep. He was still flat on his back, with his legs and arms out spread eagle. I took the tube of K-Y and screwed the top back on, and after putting it back on his bedside table, I covered him with a blanket, turned off his lights, and walked back to my room.

After closing and locking the door, I stood there silently, contemplating what had just happened for several minutes. Had I just had sex with a married man - my employer? Did we just cheat on Margot, a woman that has shown me nothing but respect? Did I actually do anything wrong, or did I just do something that any well-meaning household employee might have done? The room was dark, except for a night light next to the bathroom door. Eventually, I undressed, walked into the bathroom, and took a long hot shower.

With my hair wrapped in a towel, I laid down on my bed and stared at the ceiling. I was so fucking horny that I couldn't stand it. I had gotten Raymond off - and boy did I. But he had done nothing for me. Except, of course, to get me worked up. Laying naked on my bed, I dropped my hand to my crotch. My hairy crotch, I should say. I love my flaming red pubes, and I miss having a lover play with them. As I twirled them with my fingers, I slowly lowered my hand to a personal area I don't usually touch, except for hygiene reasons. I won't say I have never masturbated, but it isn't something I do regularly. However, tonight may have been one of those times.

I began rubbing myself, faster and faster, first in little circles and then up and down. And as the up and down became more vigorous, I first slipped one finger in, and then another. Now back and forth, and back and forth. And then, remembering how Raymond wanted me to curl my fingers, I did the same thing. I couldn't remember Rob ever finding my G-Spot. But I found it that night, for less than thirty seconds later, I experienced the biggest orgasm that I'd enjoyed in years.

The next morning, as I was getting dressed for another day of nannying, I came to the conclusion that Raymond and I had done nothing wrong. I know I was simply justifying our actions, but we were both consenting adults, and that was just the decision I came to. And that probably would have been that, if we had just stopped there, but we didn't.

Over the course of the following year, we repeated our little secret affair ten or twelve times. Always when Margot was out of town and not expected back for at least several days. And over time, we alternated between the master bedroom and my little apartment. If we did it in his bed, I would come to his room wearing nothing but panties and a shorty robe. Sitting Indian style, I'd let the robe fall open so Raymond could gaze at my tits. But unfortunately, that was about all he did. However, after his release, I would lower my mouth and suck him until he completely lost his erection, which sometimes could take ten minutes or more.