Can I be your French Maid? Ch. 02

She's getting off on the idea, I thought as I watched her, amazed.

"I don't know if that would be a good thing..." I started to say, but she was already reaching for her seatbelt.

"Fuck me against the hood," she said as she threw her weight against the door, popping it open.

"What?" I jabbered, but it was too late. She was already out of the car, standing on the driveway, wearing nothing but a skimpy lace teddy and a pair of high heels.

I fumbled with the door, pushed it open and stumbled onto the driveway. I jerked up, my eyes darting from house to house, praying the curtains were drawn.

From beside me, I heard the sound of my wife pressing her body against the hood of the car. I spun around to look. She was spread eagle, bent over the hood of her new Sporitti, her ass up in the air

"Don't keep me waiting, housewife," she moaned. "It's time to earn your keep."

I walked to her, nervously stumbling like a zombie. I'd lost most of my higher brain function, short-circuited by the sudden redirection of most of my blood.

She turned to look at me and smiled devilishly. "Fuck me hard babydoll. I want to wake up the whole neighborhood!"

I looked around again, terrified I might see one of them peeking out through their curtains. It wasn't that late. There was a good chance they were crowded around their television sets unaware that the real show was happening just outside their windows.

I walked around her and positioned myself behind her ass. My hard cock ached, my body screaming at me to fuck her, to fuck her hard.

"Fuck me, babydoll, go deep," she moaned and strained to raise herself up on her heels.

I stared down at her bare ass, two perfectly plump cheeks devouring the razor thin thong of her lace teddy. I started to move forward, fumbling to undo my zipper and...

"I... I can't," I mumbled, my eyes drawn back to the unblinking gaze of our neighbors' windows. "At least not here. The neighbors... they'll see us,"

She whipped her head around and scowled at me over her shoulder. "Are you fucking serious? Who gives a fuck what the neighbors think."

"I..." I blurted out, unable to form a complete sentence.

"Fine," she scowled. "Whatever. Suit yourself, you fucking pussy."

She stood up, stormed past me and grabbed her purse from the car. "Who needs you anyway. The car wasn't the only new toy I bought with my bonus," she growled.

She walked to the front door, unlocked it, swung it open and slammed it shut behind her.

That night I slept on the couch listening to the faint sound of my wife's new toy pleasure her through the white speckled ceiling.

She eventually forgave me, and the new toy was shelved, but I reluctantly agreed to help out a bit more around the house, to be her obedient housewife and do more...

... chores, I thought as I drifted out of the memory and looked down at my ironed apron, free of any wrinkles.

How long had I spaced out?

I checked the clock. Fuck, I thought and quickly changed.

I opened the top drawer of my nightstand and pulled out all the French maid's outfit's accessories including the stockings. I then sat down on the bed, reached down, gently pulled on each thigh high nylon stocking and attached them to the garter belt. I dipped my toes into the snow white panties, pulled them up, then slipped on the push-up bra and hooked it in the back.

As I stepped into the short-sleeved dress and brought it up, I was soothed by an odd sense of calm. This, all of this, from the smooth nylon of the stockings to the rich creamy material of the panties... even the sharp underwiring of the bra, it just felt... right.

I zipped up the dress, tied the apron around my waist, donned my maid's tiara and slipped on my Mary Janes. I then walked into the bathroom to check my reflection.

Wow, I thought, as I stared wide eyed into the mirror, devouring every detail. My wife had outdone herself. The light bubblegum pink eyeshadow sprinkled with a hint of silver sparkled. My lips were pouty, the cherry red lipstick like a candy coating. And the pigtails... I smiled and batted my eyes. I was a vision of playful sexuality, a fantasy drawn to life with a few clever strokes of a makeup brush.

"Are you ready, Yvette? We're cutting it close," my wife shouted from downstairs.

How silly of me, I thought. Yet again I was dawdling. "Oui, Madame. Desole, Madame," I apologized, scampered out of the bathroom, grabbed my phone and with the greatest of care, descended the stairs one heel at a time.

My wife was standing in the living room, ready to depart. She looked up at me and smiled, approvingly. "Stunning, if I do say so myself."

I did a small curtsy. "Merci, Madame."

"Well then, shall we?" she asked as she walked past me to the front door.

I turned, looked at the door, then hesitated.

"Nervous?" she asked.

I looked from the door to her then spoke, my voice trembling. "Oui, Madame."

She smiled. "Don't be. It's just a few steps to the car. And if someone sees you, so what? You look incredible. If they stare, let them. And if anyone says a nasty word to you, I'll run them over with my car!"

I laughed. "Merci, Madame."

She turned, unlocked the door and opened it. The natural light poured in, and I stared out across the threshold unaware that it wasn't the only line I was crossing today. In a few hours I'd have a cock in my mouth again, and unlike last night, when I'd devoured my madame's strap-on dildo, this one... this one would be real.