My Housekeeper

She held my head with her two hands and his cock touched my lips. I did nothing. "Lick it. Just the head," she whispered. He circulated the head of his cock around my lips and I flickered my tongue. Then he inserted the head. It had a musty fragrance. It was large, much larger than mine. I was confused. Surprised. He pushed the head past my lips, onto my tongue. I sucked it in, then forced it out. He pushed it back in and we repeated the dance of me sucking the head of his cock in and out. Rita began orchestrating the dance. She manipulated my head, setting the tempo for both of us.

"Deeper," she instructed me. My reluctance withered away into resignation. I figured there was only one way this was going to go. She pushed my head forward and buried his cock deeper into my mouth, back toward my throat. I gagged slightly. "Keep going," she told me. And she manipulated my head back, then forward, back, forward and then back, so that it felt like I was taking the whole damn thing into my mouth. I was breathing through my nostrils and getting a little out of breath. In and out. His cock was really big. I was just short of gagging.

Then she said, "Hold still," and she held my head in place with her hands, like a vice. The boyfriend went on offense and started doing the pumping. Shallow at first, then deeper. "Get your saliva going," she said. "The more lubrication the better. I know you can do it."

He started fucking my mouth and he grabbed hold of my head. She let go, laid back and began masturbating on the bed behind me. I could hear her moans and feel the bed shaking from her manipulation. I tried my best to let the whole ordeal just happen. Don't fight it, I told myself. This entire scene was, ultimately, of my making.

I began drooling, the saliva dripping down my chin. He was experiencing well-lubricated friction as he pumped into my face. This was no passive blowjob. He was fucking my face. His breathing picked up as did the fervor with which he was attacking my hole.

Then he stopped. He climbed over the top of me and the two of them began fucking while I sat there, immobilized, arms spread and restrained, saliva still drying on my chin and cheeks, still breathing heavily, recuperating from the face fucking, a strange taste in my mouth.

Before long I could hear their pelvises slapping against each other. Their rapid-fire pace culminated in oohs and aahs and wails. Then it slowed into a calm.

After some cooling down, with no verbal communication, I heard him get up, dress and leave. She released me from my shackles and had me lie on the bed, half sitting, against the pillows. I was still blindfolded and still wore the wig. She maneuvered herself into a sixty-nine position and pushed her just-fucked, cum-filled pussy into my face. She said not a word. I knew what she wanted. What she expected. But she said it anyway.

"Worship my pussy, slave girl!" The sarcasm was not lost on me.

I began licking, slurping and sucking on her pussy. She leaned forward, took my cock in her hand and began sucking me. Boy, is she an expert in the art of getting a man off, I mused to myself. She sucked my cock, my balls. She jerked me off, fast then slow, and added whatever lubrication was needed with a healthy addition of saliva. I savored those sensations as I licked her pussy - pungent, tasting of sex, gooey.

"You're my cum slut. Tell me you are."

"I'm your cum slut, Mistress Rita." Then I repeated it. "I'm your cum slut."

She kept rubbing my cock and finally spoke.

"My ass. Lick my ass hole. You're my slave and I want you to lick my ass hole."

She repositioned herself to place her ass over my mouth and nose. I'd gone this far and figured it would be silly to cower now. I found her ass hole with my tongue and treated her to the best rim job I could muster. It was clean and sexy. I realized she must have prepared for the occasion and arrived clean and even spritzed with pheromones. I gave it all I had. And I'm pretty sure she was attending to my erection with all she had. I shuddered, convulsed and came with my entire body. She sucked every drop of my cum into her mouth and kept me there for the longest time, time enough for me to lose my hard-on and descend from my orgasmic high.

Unhurriedly, she climbed off of me and instructed me to count to 500 before I could take off the blindfold and wig. I could tell she was gathering her things as I began the counting. 1, 2, 3, 4. I lay there, half-heartedly counting away. I had a conversation with myself.

"You fucking loser," I thought to myself. "And Rita was right when she called me a kinky mother fucker. Here you're trying to find help to manage your household. To do all the manual labor around the place. Work you're trying to avoid. You end up doing all the housekeeping by yourself while you're paying some gal who's using you as a sex slave for her and her boyfriend. Smooth move, you idiot. Perverted, obsessed, kinky mother fucker," I chided myself.

I'd lost track of my counting. I didn't care. I rolled out of bed and tore off the maid's uniform, I pulled off the blindfold and wig and threw them toward the suitcase. I put on a robe and made my way upstairs. Rita was gone. I went to the counter where I'd left her check - a generous one with a healthy bonus for getting laid last time. The check was torn in half. A prepared card lay there. Along with the key to my house.

"We're moving back to Indiana. Job opportunity for Paul, closer to my family. It makes sense for us."

"It's been a pleasure. You're the best boss I've ever had. I had an absolute blast working for you. May your fantasies continue to come true. Peace and love. Mistress Rita"

So, here I sit, late in the evening, sipping a scotch, soon to go to bed. I feel sorry for myself. I need to find a new housekeeper. But my thoughts return to Rita. She was one in a million. How could anyone even scratch the surface of what she did for me? How could anyone ever replicate what she did to me?

I'm raising my glass to her in tribute. I say aloud, "Here's to ya. The best housekeeper and the finest Mistress a sub could ever hope for. You were a blessing in my life." I quaff the Glenlivet. I stare at the silly little maid outfit, draped over the ottoman in front of me. I replay, once again, the day's sexploitation in my mind.