Lola, The Dirty Little Maid Ch. 02

I drive home from Goldman Sachs on a perfect summer night, loaded with cash and looking forward to banging Lola Robida. Her name sounded spanish, but she turned out to be a genuine french maid, imported from Paris, twenty-something and sizzlin'. Long story short, she's not a maid any more. She's my private sex kitten, hanging around my seaside house all day and cleaning it for free.

I park my $90,000 BMW in the driveway and step out to the Jersey Shore, savoring the salty air. I open the front door and see Lola dusting off a $5,000 gold-rimmed mahogany escritoire. I was expecting her to be wearing one of the summer dresses that she bought at the Jersey Gardens Mall . . . but much to my surprise, she's wearing a vintage french maid costume. A black mini dress with white lace fringes and a white silk apron, black fishnet stockings with lacy white garters, a frilly white neckband with a black ribbon tie, and a frilly white cap. Hot as fuck.

"Holy shit!"

"You like my new look, oui?" she beams in a thick français accent.

"Fuck yeah. Where did you get it?"

"A costume store in Newark. You wish maids would wear these old sexy dresses while cleaning houses, so I turn your fantasy real."

"Damn, Lola. You're making me hungry for some fine french cuisine, if you catch my drift."

"Eh . . . I am good at cleaning, not cooking, remember?"

(I keep forgetting that English is incredibly hard to learn as a second language.)

"I'm not talking about food, babe. I want to have dessert before dinner. Sex before supper."

She giggles playfully. "Oui oui, your drift I catch. We french girls love having sweet treats before l'entree."

She kisses me long and hard while holding her feather duster against my neck. I grab her ass with both hands. My dick starts rising against her white silk apron.

"All right, that's enough tongue-wrestling," I grunt impatiently. I scoop her lithe body up into my arms, carry her up to our Baroque bedroom, and toss her onto a four-post canopy bed.

"You want me to take off brassière today?"

"Hell yeah, I've been looking forward to those big honkers all day," I reply while taking off my business suit. "Take off your panties too, but leave your dress on."

She follows my order with a bemused expression, pushing her dress above her crotch and below her tits. I hop in bed and squeeze those natural DD wonders as hard as I can.

"Ah oui! Suck them please!"

I nibble her pointy brown nipples like a starving puppy.

"Oh mon dieu! You make it hurt as I love to. Homme fou, tu me rends si fou, et je ne te laisserai jamais partir!"

I have no idea what she just said, but I love it.

"Damn, that's a sexy language. Once you go french, you never go back."

I squeeze those big pale boobs around my big fat cock and titty-fuck her like hell. She sticks her tongue out and tastes the tip with each thrust. This is a crazy fantasy that millions of straight men and lesbians would kill for. I dreamed about banging genuine French maids ever since I saw Private Gold 19: French Maid Fetish on VHS. (A pretentious piece of euro-porn.)

"I want to slurp your cum again! S'il vous plaît!"

"Patience, my pet. Good things come to girls who wait."

I grab her feather duster and tickle her tits, making her laugh spasmodically.

"Oh fuck, I love you tickle me like silly little girl!"

I tickle her pussy, and she laughs even louder.

"Miséricorde, s'il vous plaît! Stop it now, or I will piss the silk sheets."

I stop tickling her clit, and start sucking it.

"Ainsi putain! Tu es encore plus sauvage que mon ancien patron."

"What did you call me, bitch?"

"I say you are twice as good as Jean-Claude Aubel."

"Damn right. I'm way better than your old faggot boss in Gay Paree."

I lift her legs onto my shoulders, shove my cock up her twat, and fuck her hard while spanking her ass repeatedly. Just the way she likes it. She grabs one of the mahogany bedposts and arches her back while moaning and groaning and swearing in a foreign language. I suck the toes on her right foot, getting the nice acidic tang of purple nail paint.

"Lick my dirty feet, you dirty man."

"You're the dirty one, you fucking Red Light whore."

I spank her ass yet again and lick her sweaty feet with no apprehension whatsoever, while she works her clit with purple-painted fingertips. The color of royalty, like Marie Antoinette.

"Get on all fours, bitch. Be my dirty little poodle again."

"Yes sir. You can walk this caniche whenever you please."

She assumes the position for doggy-style, and I pound her like a Mastiff while clutching her black lacy dress. Her stockings and garters feel nice and rough against my bare legs. I smack those fishnets with authority, purging out my frustrations about Wall Street and my wasted youth.      

"Get ready for some more french vanilla."

"Je suis si pret! Shoot that shit right in my mouth."

I stand up on the mattress, and she opens her mouth wide for the money shot.

"Oooooooh FUUUUUCK!"

She gargles that jizz for thirty seconds, then she blows plenty of cum bubbles. Sucking them back in, blowing out some more, sucking them back in, blowing out some more. Such a playful little demoiselle.

"How do you say 'cum bubbles' in french?"

"Bulles d'éjaculate."

I laugh in disbelief about this whole crazy affair, then I plop down on a memory foam pillow. She rests her head on my chest, and I fiddle with her lacy white maid cap while hearing the soothing sound of rolling waves on our private beach. A glorious sunset blares through the bedroom window.

"I love turning your crazy fantasy real," Lola says dreamily. "But now I want you to turn my crazy fantasy real."

"What kind of insanity do you have in mind?"   

"Promise me you won't laugh?"

"Sure, I promise."

"Okay." She pauses for dramatic effect. "I would like to have a three-way."

I burst out laughing, and she slaps my chest.

"Hey, you break your promise!"

"I'm sorry, it's just . . . a little weird."

"Three in a bed is not weird. It looks so fun and sweet, to share our love in such a way."

"I bet Jean-Claude had lots of three-ways at his mansion. And four-ways, and five-ways, etcetera etcetera."

"He had many big sex parties, but I was afraid to try."

"Until now?"

"Oui oui. I move to America and find my soulmate, waking me up to good wild things." She gets up and straddles my lap, glaring down at me with those hypnotizing french anime eyes. "Please, mon bien-aimé? Just one night? Not a long ménage a trois."

"Sure, why the fuck not? I'm banging a genuine french maid in fucking New Jersey, so I might as well see how deep this rabbit hole goes."

We microwave some lasagna and drink some $500 Armand de Brignac. We browse through hundreds of hoes on our "smart" phones, until a cute twenty-something redhead catches my eye. Her first name is Sally, just like my ex-wife. Last name Bartosiewicz. A bisexual single white female "professional dancer" from Newark, also twenty-something and sizzlin'. Lola also thinks she's cute, so I send her a short message that gets right to the point:

"I'm looking for a three-way partner with my sexy girlfriend. One night only, crossing it off our bucket list."

I don't tell her anything about Lola, not even her name. Optimizing the element of surprise, just like Lola did by the pool yesterday. Five minutes later, Sally sends an eager reply:

"You're on, Jake! I'm in the mood for a polyamorous fling after a bad breakup with a Broadway bitch."

The next morning, I go back to work in Lower Manhattan with my head in the clouds. We're negotiating a major securities contract with Amalgamated Financial (an even stupider name than Goldman Sachs,) but I'd rather be "negotiating" with Sally and Lola. Sex on the Beach, and I don't mean the drink. I still haven't told my co-workers about my affair with Lola, but I'm sure those greedy bastards will be green with envy.

I go to Shake Shack on my lunch break, and a brilliant idea pops into my head. I send a text message to Sally, asking her to wear a french maid costume to our date. Then I send a text to Lola, asking her to wear her own maid costume without telling her what I told Sally. (Two sexy surprises for the price of one.) A devilish grin spreads across my face, and I take a big bite of Shroom Burger.

Eight o'clock rolls around, and Sally rings the doorbell. Lola dashes across the living room in that lacy number, looking better than any porn star who ever played dress-up. She opens the door, and her jaw immediately drops open, Tex Avery style. Sally is wearing the exact same get-up from the Bygones Boutique, and her stunned expression is equally hilarious.

"Oh mon dieu!" Lola exclaims in a thick Parisian accent.

"Oh mon dieu?" Sally gapes in a thick New Jersey accent. "What the fuck?"

"How the fuck did you know I . . ."

Sally's shocked face moves from Lola's to mine. My cartoonish smile gives away the practical joke. "Very funny, Jake."

"Yes indeed. Believe it or not, I'm sleeping with an honest-to-goodness french maid, imported from Paris."

"Holy shit. Some guys have all the luck."

Sally enters my not-so-humble abode. I microwave some Stouffer's fried chicken and pour two glasses of overpriced Chardonnay for my french maids. Seeing those two vintage bombshells sitting shoulder-to-shoulder gets me hot under the collar. Itching for some double-cunt role-playing action. We explain how our relationship started, and Sally loves every word of it.

"Wow, you guys are really living the dream. Hold onto it as hard as you can, because there's plenty of 'progressive' idiots who want to tear you down like a golden statue."

"There's plenty of 'progressive' idiots on Broadway."

"Including me," Sally replies sheepishly, and takes a pensive sip. "I was just like you, Jake. I assumed that every maid in America was an undocumented worker who hopped over the fence from Me-hee-co. That's a good example of unconscious bias."

"Yeah, but I hate those stupid buzzwords."

"Sorry. My ex-girlfriend used a buzzword in every fucking sentence. A crazy fucking dyke who drove me bonkers."

Sally takes a big sip of Chardonnay, and Lola tosses her chestnut hair.

"I am much better than your old amant lesbien," Lola utters seductively.

"Wow, everything sounds sexier in French," Sally beams while stroking Lola's left hand.

"It is the language of romance . . . or so they say in every stupid movie."

"How about we stop talking, and start 'romancing?'" I suggest boldly.

"I second that motion," Sally beams.

"We will take charge now, Monsieur Savage. You will take orders from your maids."

"Whatever you say, Mademoiselle Robida," I grunt indignantly.

"I love women who take charge in the bedroom, and every other room," Sally says. Lola leads us into the living room and orders me to sit down in front of a Steinway grand piano. She grabs two feather dusters and gives one to Sally.

"Play a sweet song while we clean your instrument," Lola commands.

"Yes, Mademoiselle Robida."

Lola and Sally dust off the $100,000 instrument while I pound the faux ivory keys. Playing the first song that pops in my head, "Frere Jacques." This piano is mostly for decoration during cocktail parties, and my musical skills are stuck in middle school, but they don't give a shit. Lola sings the lyrics beautifully in her native tongue:

"Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques, Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous? Sonnes les matines! Sonnez les matines! Ding, ding, dong. Ding, ding, dong."

She puts down her duster and french-kisses the hell out of Sally. The distraction makes me stumble on the keys.

"Pay attention to your music!" Lola growls playfully. She kisses Sally some more, and the song mercifully ends.

"Play 'Au Claire de la Lune,' maestro," Sally orders.

"Yes, Miss Bartosiewicz."

Those are the only two French songs I know how to play. I churn out the syrupy ballad, and Sally lifts Lola's breasts out of her maid costume and sucks her pointy nipples, reminding me of the lesbian scene in French Maid Fetish.

"Ah oui, you are a good Jersey girl," Lola groans while stroking Sally's face. "I love your soft pale skin. Oh je t'en supplie, let me lick your pussy. I have not tasted twat since I left Paris."

Sally giggles and lifts up her lacy black dress. "Help yourself, honey. American as apple pie."

Lola pulls down Sally's red panties and buries her face in an unshaved ginger crotch. Sally moans loudly, out of harmony with the ballad.

"God damn, you're a good carpet muncher. French dames are so oral-fixated."

Sally pulls down Lola's black panties and returns the favor energetically.

"Do not make me cum yet! I want to show you how we suck cock en francais."

Lola drags me away from the piano and leads me out to the pool deck, glowing in gorgeous twilight.

"Take off his stuffy Wall Street suit," Lola orders.

"Yes, Mademoiselle Robida," Sally replies primly. She gets me butt-naked near an artificial waterfall while Lola goes to a mini-fridge and gets a $500 bottle of Armand de Brignac champagne.

"Wow, you guys actually have sex by a big pool with a fake waterfall and a great view of the ocean. You one-percenters are so fucking crazy."

"Don't knock it till you try it," I remark. Lola returns with the champagne and sprinkles it on the tip of my penis. The stinging sensation is exquisite. She sucks it off the full length of the shaft.

"Damn, girl, you're super-freaky. Gimme that overpriced hooch." Sally grabs the bottle, splashes more champagne down there, and sucks harder while growling fiercely.

"Keep going just like that, you fucking Broadway bitch!" I growl back.

She keeps going theatrically while Lola watches indignantly. She yanks Sally's head off my cock and shoves it back in her own mouth. Sally sucks my balls and massages my prostate while I fiddle with their lacy white maid caps in the salty breeze. Pure fantastical bliss. This is my first three-way, but it definitely won't be my last.

"I can't believe I waited this long to get two lips on my prick," I remark. Lola giggles with a mouthful, and pours more champagne on my prick. They lick the tip at the same time, then they put their lips together on the shaft and move up and down simultaneously. Lola pulls back and gives me a comically dirty look.

"Do you want to fuck us in the pool, like horny dolphins?" she asks.

"Fuck yeah, I want some more aquaphile action."

"That sounds super funzies!" Sally beams.

"Non, non. We will fuck you in ocean, like real dolphins."

Lola pulls me out of the chair and leads us down a flight of wooden steps to our private beach.

"Get naked now, and we play like rich fools on Riviera."

Lola quickly removes her costume and prances into the salt water. Sally follows shortly thereafter, wading into the rolling tide until it laps her pink nipples. They resume their sapphic lovemaking, bobbing up and down like fleshtone buoys. I wrap my legs around their waists and squeeze their tits.

"This is so much crazier than I was expecting," Sally beams.

"Now you know how I feel, ever since I met this dirty little maid,"

"Fuck your dirty little maid in asshole," Lola orders. "Cul putain, just like Jean-Claude did to me."

"Yes, Mademoiselle Robida."

I obey her order reluctantly, sticking it in the wrong hole for the first time in my life. Nice and tight, like a cross between vaginal and masturbation. Disgusting yet intriguing.

"Go fast, please!" Lola shouts. I go as fast as the water resistance will allow. "Ah oui, you screw me so fucking good!"

"Real men love pounding shitholes," Sally chimes in wittily. "My turn, Jake."

I'm having too much fun to stop, so she literally rips me off Lola's body.

"Come on, pound my shithole!"

"Yes, Miss Bartosiewicz."

I screw Sally just as hard. Her theatrical moans are echoed by a foghorn on a passing cargo ship, heading for the New York harbor.

"All right, I'm taking charge now," I grunt. "I'm gonna bang you bitches on the beach."

"Oh joy," Lola beams. "I love getting sandy on my body."

I drag them halfway up the beach, stopping next to their french maid costumes.

"Time for a yoga lesson. Downward dog, bitches."

They assume that particular pose, bending over and forming sharp V-shapes. I scoop up handfuls of sand and toss it all over their bodies, making them giggle.

"Stop fooling around!" Lola shouts. "Fuck us in asshole, fucking hard. Fucking break my con!"

Her anal sphincter opens invitingly. I slam it back in and sodomize her like there ain't no tomorrow, spanking her in equal measure. Her wet sandy body whips around like a ragdoll, breaking the pose.

"Oh mon putain de dieu, do not fucking stop!"

"You better fucking stop!" Sally shouts. "Shove that big fucking dick up my keister!"

I drive my big rig up Sally's Hershey Highway, turning her into a redhead ragdoll. Raggedy Anne. Her ass cheeks make a louder sound when I spank them. She swears loudly in a grating Joisey accent, pushing me over the edge.

"I'm gonna cum. Get down on your knees by the water."

They press their faces faces together side by side as tiny waves hit their feet. My orgasm is even stronger than the one I had two days ago with Lola at this very same spot. A big wad hits Sally right between her blue eyes, then a lot more hits the rest of her face. Lola sucks my cock dry, then she licks the splooge off Sally's face and gargles it like Listerine.

"Swap that cum into my mouth, maid!" Sally orders. She opens her mouth wide, and Lola lets it ooze onto her waiting tongue. Real nasty chicks, the kind I can't get enough of.

"Blow some bubbles, you silly ginger girl."

Sally blows a bunch of white bubbles, then she swallows it and kisses Lola with foamy lips. A perfect end to a perfect day. We wash the sand off our bodies in the salty water, and Sally french-kisses both of us.

"So," Sally sighs comically. "Is this still just a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am, or shall we turn this into a menage a trois?"

"I want a menage a trois with all the trimmings," Lola beams.

"Me too," I beam while squeezing their derrieres.

"Me three. Let's have a real artsy polyamorous affair, like one of those stupid french indie flicks."