tagRomanceI Made the Maid

I Made the Maid

byIngrid11B©

I was just ten when I lost my mom and my world turned upside down. Dad was a busy medical doctor that was a prominent researcher at the university and often arrived home late, but he always left early every morning. Losing mom was disrupting because other than my maid, she was my only caregiver, tutor, and best friend because we lived on dad's old family estate without close neighbors and relations with relatives were always strained.

I was old enough to wonder why mom married dad, as he was old and completely devoted to his research and teaching at the university, and mom though young, beautiful, and vibrant was always full of life until the last few months before she passed. At least, that was the way I remembered mom, but Jenny, my personal maid, knew my mother suffered from severe breathing issues beginning soon after my memories began.

Mom was only twenty-four-years-old when she died from tuberculosis, but I didn't know dad was already seventy-three when she passed away. I knew dad was old, but I didn't expect mom to die before he passed. A boy my age shouldn't have been thinking about morbid issues like death, but I knew my parents would not be permanent fixtures in my life and I needed to cling to Jenny. There were many family mysteries I never knew as I grew to adulthood, but my maid Jenny was full of family secrets, which she never shared until I was eighteen.

I didn't know much about Jenny other than she was four years older than me and took over as my mom, tutor and best friend. She never told me how she came to live with us or why she never had a day to go visit her parents. It was as if she was my older sister who always knew the right solution to every problem. I never remembered life before Jenny lived with us.

Jenny was easy to love because I had no one else that loved me or spent time with me, but early on I recognized she got little in return for all of her hard work around the house cooking and cleaning and looking after her main charge, me. We rode the bus to school together, but neither of us ever stayed for social functions after school or had anyone attend meetings with our teachers.

Looking back on our situation, I'm surprised that some organization never checked up on us, but on the other hand, I'm sure we were looked on as the best and brightest in our classes. I always thought Jenny was smarter than I, probably because she had already taken the same classes with the same teachers four years earlier. Another positive thing I remember was Jenny never complained or desired to leave my home, even though she wasn't treated quite as well as I. Of course, Jenny never remembered a different life with a mother and father.

Jenny started to be the person that catered to my every need by the time I was six, but at the time, I didn't know it was due to mom's poor health. Until I was nearly ten, Jenny bathed with me either in the bathtub or in the shower, but when she started to get her little boobies she stood outside the shower dressed in a white terrycloth robe and washed my still childish body as I stood while she scrubbed the dirt away. By the time I was twelve I was already taller than Jenny, but she continued to bathe me, and probably because I was accustomed to her seeing me undressed, I was never embarrassed.

There weren't many days when she didn't get soaked, but she took her responsibilities seriously. I had no friends to tell me that boys my age should care for their own personal hygiene needs, and Jenny had no one to tell her I was old enough to care for myself. Even then I could sense that Jenny liked washing and drying my naked body. She truly was a good teacher that taught me what most mothers teach their children, and I was always gratified the few times she undressed to avoid getting soaked. In a way, I regretted when I began to finally mature and Jenny no longer washed me or helped comb my hair or polish my shoes before school. I didn't want to grow up.

I must have been thirteen or fourteen before I realized Jenny's last name was Knight while my name was Donald J. Craft, and that didn't shed any light on where she came from. Mom's obituary listed her maiden name was Swanson, but there were few details about her to glean information of how she became involved with my father.

Jenny told me she never lived any other place as far as she could recall, and she always wondered who her parents were and why she lived with me as my maid. We were close, but four years age difference is quite a contrast during adolescence, but we did discuss the mystery many times.

A beautifully arched darkly stained oak door swung open in either direction on bright brass double-action spring hinges, which connected our bedrooms where we spent most of our time together. On the opposite bedroom walls were doors leading to our own private bathrooms, and as I grew a little older and more considerate, I tried to keep my bedroom and bath orderly, as Jenny was responsible to keep the beds made and the bathrooms clean. As a matter of fact, I had no responsibilities whatsoever, but I did try to reduce her work by getting my dirty clothes into the laundry chute before I went to bed every night. The last things Jenny did before she climbed into her bed every night was to kiss me on the forehead, tell me she loved me and hooked the door open that separated our adjoining rooms. Although she was my maid, I loved her more than either mom or dad.

By the time I was fourteen I was pretty self-sufficient and didn't need her to supervise my baths or groom my hair every day, but she continued to provide a haircut two times every month. She always kept it short like dad wanted, but I planned to let it grow as soon as I became an adult. Jenny cheated sometimes and allowed my hair to become a little longer at the sideburns and along my collar, but as soon as dad said something I was sitting in the chair again watching her tiny hands scissor another half inch off, and then it was too short.

By the time I finally reached eighteen and Jenny twenty-two, dad was eighty-one, and he was in poor health though he continued research at the university, and to ease his life, he took an apartment near the university campus and only returned home for some weekends. Jenny had satisfied the contract, which I never knew existed as he returned what was really an indentured servant agreement to Jenny after he scribbled his signature below a handwritten statement, "Contract Completed." That's also the day dad sat down and told me I was not his son and that he married my already pregnant mother, but he was unclear how he found himself involved as there was no family relationship.

Dad said Anna, my mother, was the youngest sister of his nephew's wife who was impregnated when she was only thirteen by a man she refused to identify, and her family put her out of the home without a place to go. Dad added that he took her in and married her before I was born.

According to dad, "I accepted Anna and you, but we were never lovers as I had a married lover and was never interested in Anna sexually, but the charade gave me cover to keep my research position with the university." He added, "I decided to marry Anna because otherwise I might have been discovered as an adulterer with a woman that had been one of the university's most celebrated scholars who was then invalid. I'd have lost my reputation, my position, and my lifetime ambition to be a researcher.

Dad housed Anna temporarily until there were few other options for her, so eventually, I was listed as the son of Thomas and Anna Craft on the birth certificate though he claimed they never legally married. He said he withheld his love and continued his long-lasting affair with the widowed woman because he said he was unable to accept a woman of Anna's age and chose to assign her to a different bedroom where she lived an unhappy life with her only joy being her new son, Donald J. Craft. Dad admitted Anna had no love for him either, as he was nearly sixty years older and knew he was fully satisfied with his current arrangement with his invalid friend's wife.

Later, as Jenny and I returned to our rooms, she read the contract part that identified her as Jenny Knight, a child born out of wedlock to a Ph.D. candidate he was mentoring when she was a university student. Jenny's birth certificate was attached to the contract listing Abby Donaldson as her mother and Goodson Knight as the father, but they were never married, and as far as Thomas knew, Goodson had never been told he had a daughter.

Although Thomas Craft agreed to support and raise Jenny, he had selfish motives as he had already taken Anna in and knew she would need help with the baby that was soon to be delivered. Goodson was a family friend and fellow professor at the university who would have lost his position and prevented him from accepting a distant professorship, which he accepted before Jenny was born.

Dad was very unforgiving to his four-year-old niece and from the beginning was not the father figure he should have been, but in his standoffish way, he loved her. Still, he kept her as a servant and demanded Anna treat Jenny as a maid and not a true family member. Truthfully, I was also treated as inferior, as I had no Craft blood flowing through my veins either.

I knew Jenny was crying tears that were mixed with joy now that she was free to live her life as she chose, but she realized she no longer was my maid and had no place to go. Dad had seen that she was educated, and I was about to begin classes at the university, which Jenny had just graduated. She commuted every day just as I planned, and I knew dad owed her more than offering her the freedom she earned over the past eighteen years.

I tried to comfort Jenny that weekend and explained she was free to live here until she wanted to leave because I considered her as family and would never permit her eviction from the only home she ever knew. I could see the relief on her face as she realized she had some time to decide her future without worrying from where her next job or meal would come, and secretly, I wasn't sure I could bear to see the most beautiful part of my life disappear and leave me alone.

Inexplicably, dad had a fatal stroke on his way to the university three days after I turned eighteen, and the only thing good about it was it was a sudden event that his doctor said was painless and nearly instant. There was no funeral, as we had no relatives or neighbors to commiserate the end of his life or celebrate either, but the university awarded a permanent teaching chair in his honor and had a memorial celebration of his life the following spring.

The most amazing thing was the complex trust, which was read to us ten days after his death that shared his enormous estate equally between Jenny and me, and perhaps it was his way of saying he was sorry for his lack of compassion and understanding for the two women that strayed from the straight and narrow when they were very young adults. Unknowingly, his estate included incredible dividends from two of his inventions, which we had never realized came from his research.

Now that we were alone in the house and fully adults, I could recall how I loved Jenny and the way she always treated me when I was sad or felt lonely. But the first night after dad passed we attempted to continue as normal, but when she reached her arms to embrace me before we undressed for bed I kissed her cheek and said, "Thank you, Jenny, for being with me all these years. Without you in my life, I would have never endured the emptiness that stole my joy."

I always knew Jenny was a beautiful person on the inside, but since I turned into an adolescent, her beauty radiated through her smile and lovely personality. I knew she was a very light complexioned when compared to my darker olive skin, and I saw her piercing deep blue eyes the first moment she held me in her arms when I was a baby, but I never realized how perfect she was in every detail until I began seeing her in my dreams.

I had memorized her dainty body's figure and could have identified her blindfolded in a crowd of hundreds I knew her so well. I always admired how she rarely had a hair out of place, yet how little time she spent caring for herself as compared to the hours she spent salving for me. Jenny was either the best cook in the world or I had become accustomed to her dishes, which she so lovingly prepared and served in the dining room while we conversed about a myriad of subjects for a lifetime.

I loved her compassion for the wild animals on those cold winter days when she found scraps to stifle their hunger and keep them supplied with energy to survive another night. Each evening she picked my clothes for the following day, but she always consulted me to be sure I liked her selection. Many times after I was old enough, I helped Jenny with the dishes or folding laundry because I loved to be near her. Most of all I loved to go to bed because I knew she'd read me a story and kiss me after I was all tucked under the blanket. Even as a teenage boy, I loved her near me, and the big heavy open oak door between our bedrooms signaled she was always near.

I think it was the many subtle signals she sent all through my life that said, "Donnie, you're the best. I will do anything for you because I have loved you from the day you were born, and I'll love you the day I die." I felt the same way, but I never was demanding or onerous because I loved Jenny and I wanted her to be happy.

It was Jenny who came to tuck me in, just like she did every night before she went away to the university, who bent over me to kiss my forehead and tuck me in for the night like always, but this night she pulled me closer and slipped her lips to meet mine and quietly whispered, "Donnie, I love you more than you'll ever know."

Somehow, things were changed now that Jenny was here taking care of an eighteen-year-old adolescent boy about to start college when she had the right to be wherever she chose. Her responsibilities to me were finished and she was now independent and wealthy, but she wanted to tell me how much she loved me.

The words were the most beautiful thing I ever heard in my entire life, and I pushed my lips firmly toward hers and squeezed her tender body and the beginning of two new lives began. I knew Jenny loved me, as a person, because she was always so kind and helpful, but that night her affection overflowed beyond her ability to withhold an outpouring from her pure heart and return it to the place she believed it should remain.

I could feel her trying to retract her lips from mine, but I was overcome with the joy of knowing Jenny loved me as much as I loved her, and I didn't release her as she pulled back from the gentle kiss. She was the only person whom I ever loved, and I was unwilling to have this euphoric moment die before I told her what she probably already knew.

"Will you stay for only another moment Jenny, so I can feel your love as our bodies touch and my lips caress yours?" Will you tell me again that you love me, Jenny, for those are the sweetest and kindest words I have ever heard."

I could hear her silently weeping as she lingered with her sweet lips touching mine and struggling to breathe. I wiped her eyes with my nightshirt's sleeves and whispered, "Jenny, I love you too. I have wanted to hold you in my arms since I was fourteen and you were starting college, but I believed it was unseemly for me to tell someone as beautiful as you that I, a scrawny little kid was old enough to love you. I feared you would reject me and break my troubled heart."

"Without you tucking me in every night I can't imagine what I would ever have had to look forward to for all these years, and Jenny, I'll never be too big or too old to want you close and make sure I'm happy. But Jenny, the time has come when it's my turn to worry about you and tuck you in at night and wipe your tears away when you have a sad day."

Jenny had moved to my side and wrapped her arm over my chest and answered sweetly that she was planning to stay with me and care for me until I finished at the university at the very soonest, and she would love to have me tuck her into bed every night. Then Jenny said something that astonished me.

"Thomas J. Craft, I hope someday when you come to my bedroom you will want to offer more than a goodnight kiss and wrap my blanket tightly to keep me warm. I pray one night you will join me under my little canopy and show me your love and allow me to offer everything I have to you. You are the reason I survived all those lonely nights without a mother or a father, and if it hadn't been for you whom I began to love when you were first born, I couldn't have lived. I used to rock you to sleep before you could even walk, and I became the person that cared for you because your mother was so sick for so long.

I knew Jenny wanted me to tuck her in that night, but as much as I loved her, I wasn't sure how to ask her if I could join her in bed and love her like I have wanted to for so many years. I fell asleep with her in my dreams nearly every night, and I wasn't about to regret that I didn't seize the night! This was going to be our night as I worked my arms under her tiny body and told her I planned to tuck her in tonight, but I had something I wanted to give her before she fell asleep.

I carried her to her bed and asked if I could give her my heart. She pulled me down to lie with her and for the very first time I unbuttoned her top and saw her beautiful breasts reflecting the light from the full moon shining through the wavy antique glass window. She pulled my fingers to her tiny breasts and I felt her little nipples harden as she reached under my shirt and slid her fingers down under my bottoms and touched my life giving pulsing rod she desired. She helped me remove her bottoms and slip out of her top as I removed my pants while she pulled the top over my head and added it to the heap of pajamas on the floor.

As I placed my hands between her legs while I kissed and licked her nipples, I could feel her wetness as I touched her smooth labia. As I looked down at her lying in the moonlight, I saw her long straight blond hair and bright blue eyes, I marveled how someone as lovely as she could be mine for even a minute let alone a day or hopefully a lifetime. I knew Jenny was as pure as I that moment when I rolled over onto my back and pulled her to my breast and lifted her to be in control as she descended over the staff of life.

I could see the short fuzz-like peach fur between her perfect delicate legs that was nearly indistinguishable from her lily-white skin. Her belly button was how I remembered when we shared a bath when we were young and mother bathed us together. I could now focus on Jenny's beautiful face with time nearly invisible freckle specs on her nose that always made me take a second look to check if she was truly real and mine.

I had no idea of the fabulous feelings she would generate as I opened her labia and she slowly enveloped my entire penis one inch at a time and resting only when she felt her delicate hymn tare stop to catch her breath and begin the dance of love. We were both so excited neither of us lasted long that first time, but we had all night to improve our techniques and fully enjoy the cataclysmic orgasms we felt together before we finally showered and returned to her bed where we fell asleep in each other's loving arms. Every night we sleep together and dream about our future lives and are thankful we had the years of preparation where Jenny raised me to be the man I am and the man she loves.

I can only love her, but I can never repay her for giving her life to me and making me the happiest man that ever lived!

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byIngrid11B© 7 comments/ 14470 views/ 17 favorites

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by Anonymous

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by Anonymous11/13/18

Grammatical Errors, Spelling Errors, & A Convuluted Story Dull The Interest While Themes of Incest and Pedophelia Kill The Mood Rather Than Raise It

Personally your story is uninteresting as it is repulsive. There are many errors regarding the characters relation to one another. Not only is it poorly written, with grammatical and spelling errors, butmore...

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by KingCuddle07/01/18

This one gets a little too "flowery" and "soapy"?

The age differences arithmetic caused me to pause...but
I didn't bother to write columns of figures...:+)

I am unsatisfied by the "arch" dialog sections. They
simply don't seem natural.

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by Anonymous02/13/18

Beautiful, but could use some editing.

It's thought out, beautiful, but could use some work. Please keep writing. Maybe a little more sexual as well. Use that attention to detail. I think you would make a great writer, but you need to honemore...

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by Anonymous02/08/18

Read more carefully, critics. Fourteen-year-olds do have babies, and although the father was not the biological father in the story, sixty-three-year-old men have sired many babies including me. The thirteen-year-oldmore...

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by beowulf3002/08/18

Timeline

The kid was 10 when his mother died at 24 would make the Mom 14 years old when she had him and not just that his Dad was 63ish when he married his wife. I'd say that is a little young.

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