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Sunday, May 4, 2008

FUCK STORY: Fucking the Help, Act 1--Tanisha the Housekeeper

I pulled up to the Bell house at 7:45 AM, exactly fifteen minutes early. It was raining outside that day—I distinctly remember Jeanie complaining that she shouldn’t have let her car sit in the driveway. Throwing my newspaper over my head, I dashed to the front door and went inside.

I almost knocked Mrs. Bell over after slamming the door behind me. She was hopping on one leg in the foyer, pulling on her heels on her way out the door.

“Hello Tanisha,” she said, holding the wall for support.

“Hello Mrs. Bell.” I was careful not to get any water on her expensive suit as I dropped the paper to the floor.

“A bit cold for skirts today, dontcha think?”

I looked at her, forcing myself not to smile.

“It’s just from the car to the house and back. I get hot when I’m working.”

She wasn’t even listening—I could tell from the absent-minded look on her face as she primped in the mirror.

“Make sure you sweep the laundry room; you forgot to do it Monday.”

“Sorry, I was rushing. I’ll do it first thing.”

Jeanie looked at me with a disapproving look on her face. I knew that I would have probably been replaced awhile ago if it were up to her. But what Jeanine didn’t know is that I would never be fired. Not as long as she was married to Dean.

“Have a good day, Mrs. Bell,” I said as she opened the door and walked out. Jeanine simply raised her hand without turning back and hurried to her car. I looked out the window as she backed out of the driveway and drove down Privet Drive.

Now that she was gone I had to get to work. I primped in the same mirror that she used just seconds ago. My makeup was still intact and my hair was fine. Satisfied, I went upstairs and walked down the hallways to Dean’s office.

When I opened the door, I found him sitting behind his desk as usual, the telephone receiver wedged between his shoulder and his head. He usually spent half the day or more arguing with someone on the phone. He looked up from his monitor briefly as I walked in and waved me over.

“She gone?” he said, covering the mouthpiece with his hand. I shook my head yes, resting my hand on the back of his leather chair.

Dean patted the top of the desk, which I knew to mean he wanted me up there. As he wheeled himself backwards, I sat down on the finished surface and slid back, letting my legs dangle off the edge. Barely looking at me, Dean wheeled himself up to my knees and began untying my shoes. Even though he was only ten years older than me, there’s something so fatherly about having him take off my shoes like this—even after almost two years working here, I’d never gotten used to it.

Once my damp sneakers hit the floor, I drew my legs up until my bare feet were up on the table. Leaning back on my hands, I opened my legs several inches, exposing the scandalously thin panties that I had on underneath. I’d used a mirror to look at myself while in this position before, and so I knew that they barely covered my pussy. Which was exactly what Dean liked. Hell, he picked these out for me personally. Before I started here, I saved this type of underwear for special occasions. Now I wear them damn near every day.

For just a minute I sat there while he stared at me, getting hard. Then, as he turned his attention back to his PC, he lazily picked up his favorite pen and began stroking me with it. The feeling of the cold metal (100% Sterling silver, a gift from his wife) against my pussy was weird, but totally familiar by that point. He used it to trace the outside of my mound, occasionally drawing it up to middle to highlight my camel toe. God, it drove me crazy. Dean likes for me to taunt him, but he was the true tease—always taking his time, getting me excited well before it's time for the main course.

After about three minutes my panties were damp. Dean rubbed the pen into my slit just enough to moisten it a little, then put it down next to his mouse. It caught the light even more when it was wet, but I pulled my attention back to his face to prepare for his fingers. Dean Bell’s magical fingers have gotten me off hundreds of times in the past. I don’t know how he got so damn good with his hands, but if a man can make you come without using his dick or his tongue, he’s gifted in my book.

He started slow like he always does, rubbing and tracing my lips through and around the darkened spot in my crotch. He ground his thumb into my slit, opening me up ever so slightly with just the one hand (his other one is still cradling his phone as he chatted away with his coworkers). Tenderly he massaged my clit until it was hard and erect, a tiny bump poking out from underneath the red cotton of my panties. Dean gently pinched my little bead a few times as I tossed my head back in pleasure. I felt more wetness seep out—premature, even for me. I knew I was going to come soon.

Dean must have known too (he’s familiar with my body like that), because he finally pulled the wet crotch to the side and exposed my pussy. Just feeling the air hit it drove me wild. Ever so slightly, he eased his middle finger inside, palm facing up, and rubbed my inner wall. He meant business. Involuntarily, I tightened around his thick finger, which made him rub me a bit faster. I guess that, subconsciously, I knew that’s what would happen if I tightened up, and I’m sure that he knows that as well. The sensation of the bottom part of his finger moving in and out while the tip is working the inside was unbelievable. One finger, ladies and gentlemen. The man is a fucking master.

I began moaning, lowly at first (he is on the phone, after all) but soon I’ll get louder. And Dean knows this.

“Stephen, I got another call—can I call you back?” he said. A few seconds later he hung up the phone, and I grabbed the crotch of my panties and pulled them back even further.

“I’m ‘bout to cum,” I moaned, tossing my head back and putting more weight on my free arm. Dean was rapidly fucking me with his finger at that point, and I closed my eyes tightly as the waves began washing over me. Cum squirted hard out of my pussy, wetting his hand and the desk beneath it in the process. But Dean didn’t stop. The sweet torture continued, and I pulled my knees together until my screams filled the room.

At some point the orgasms stopped and Dean pulled his finger out. The lights seemed brighter when I opened my eyes, almost bright enough to sting. When they adjusted, I saw Dean standing with his dick in his hands, ready to fuck me.

He couldn’t get it in fast enough. I watched as he entered me, sliding his rock-hard dick all the way inside. That’s how Dean liked to start—long, full strokes, to maximize the feeling. I could feel each and every inch of him inside, thick and throbbing, blood pulsing through that huge vein that snakes along the side of his shaft. He pulled out and I exhaled, knowing that this was just the beginning. He was completely charged up, yes—I could tell from the look on his face—but even a quickie from Dean lasts at least ten minutes. I wondered how many times I would pop before he did.

He slid it back in and back out, never slowing down or speeding up (yet), content with his rhythm for now. His fat cock filled me up over and over, and I busted again within a matter of minutes (damn you and your dick, Dean Bell). He fucked me continuously, and I squeezed and milked him better than I ever had before. It is good dick, the best dick, and I am fucking lucky to have it.

I don’t know how long he held out, or how many times I came all over that thick dick, but sometime after my arm grew tired and I laid down on the desk Dean really started sticking it to me. I grabbed the edges of the table and held on for dear life as he pulled me into him with those large, beautiful hands. My sweaty body, hot from fucking while still fully dressed, grew even hotter as another orgasm began to bear down. But Dean was already in the home stretch. He brought our groins together only a few more times before unleashing a huge load inside me. If I hadn’t have just fucked him the day before I would have thought that he’d saved up for a couple of weeks to produce that much cum. After filling me up, he pulled his dick out and rubbed it into my clit, forcing that last climax out of me before backing away.

It took both of us awhile before we could move again. My head hung over the edge of the desk, staring at the upside-down north wall of his study. I could vaguely feel our mixed cum oozing out onto his desk, where one of us (him, most likely) would have to clean it up shortly. That is, unless he wanted to go another round first.

He didn’t. Not yet, anyway. Once he found the strength to move, he leaned over and gave me a brief kiss on the lips; his way of saying, “That was good—now let me get back to work.” I didn’t take it personally. Even though my legs felt like rubber, I stood (with a little help from him) and walked to the other side of his desk. My panties were gooey and wet, so I peeled them off and walked towards the door. I could wash them later when I did the laundry.

“Tanisha?”

I turned back to Dean, pulling the hair out of my face. “Yeah?”

Picking up his pen, he pointed to the table to his left. There was a glass of water and some pills that he left out for me. My birth control. Dean insisted on personally making sure I took it every day. It made no sense when I thought about it, because he trusted me enough to take it on the weekends, when I didn’t work. But still, he wanted to be absolutely sure. Some people just have their ways, I guess.

I popped a pill out of the wrapping and swallowed it with the water. Again, I didn’t take it personally. Dean isn’t my fucking husband.

For the next few hours I did my “other job”—cleaning Dean and Jeanie’s house. After two years it becomes so routine that you don’t even think about it. For the most part, I was thinking about Dean screwing my brains out before breakfast. Walking around in a short skirt with no panties didn’t help, either—going bare-pussy constantly reminded me of my most important duty here at the House of Bell.

When the time to do laundry did come around, I grabbed my undies and dropped them in the machine alone with their clothes. Once I was upstairs, I ran into Dean again by the railing.

“I just started the laundry—your socks should be ready in about an hour.” I said.

“Thanks, but I won’t be leaving after all. My meeting was cancelled.”

“Oh.”

“Turn around.”

I turned my back to him and put my hands on the railing, looking down at the foyer and hallway. Dean lifted up my skirt and began playing with my ass—something he often did when I wore skirts. He often told me how much he loved my ass, but no explanation was needed—it was evident considering how he was always grabbing and smacking it.

Then, without warning, he turned me back around and stuck his finger (that same finger) inside me while sticking his tongue in my mouth. I knew then it was going to be one of those days.

His hand moved from my pussy to my chest, fingering the hardening nipples through my top. Predictably, he lifted the shirt and started massaging my breasts with both hands, and I melted. Dean could get me up without even trying, and I did the same for him. It’s because of that chemistry that we still fuck like newlyweds after all this time.

We stood at the top of the stairs, feeling each other up for the better part of ten minutes. Once I unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out, though, it was on. Dean turned me back around and began drilling me from the back, his hands planted firmly on my hips.

“Oh—fuck—yeah!” I mumbled, each word slightly cut off at the end. That’s what happens when you talk while getting dick slammed into you—the impact interrupts the flow of your voice and each word stands by itself, making you sound like an idiot.

It must have been because I wasn’t expecting it, but I was even hungrier for his dick this time around. Plus I love getting done doggy-style, hard and fast, with Dean taking control the way he did. I spread my legs wide and arched my back, and when he reached around and pushed his hand underneath my bra I came instantly. Dean fucked me throughout the orgasm, gently pulling on my nipples as I lowered my head down to the railing.

Then came another surprise. His cock well-lubed with my cum, Dean pulled out and slowly began to push it into my ass. I raised my head and grabbed my left cheek as he eased it inside.

“Fuck…shit…” I yelled, unable to stop myself from swearing. Ever so slowly, Dean slid his wet dick in and started fucking my back door. He insisted on me keeping my ass ready for him at all times and, even though he didn’t go there too often, I had to be prepared.

It took a little while to get back in the swing of things, but before long Dean was nailing my asshole just as fast as he did my pussy. I looked down at the floor below, my heart beating out of my chest. It had been awhile, and I had almost forgotten how good it felt to have a nice hard dick back there.

“FUCK!” Dean bellowed, reaching around to rub my pussy for me. Once he got his hands on my clit, it was all over. I climaxed again, cumming all over the plush beige carpet that lined the hallway. A moment later Dean came inside me, pumping another impossibly huge load in my ass. We both went weak at the knees, then he pulled out and leaned against the wall behind him while I held myself up on the railing.

I couldn’t help myself. I turned around and kissed him for a good five minutes or so, jacking him off the whole time. Nobody had ever gotten me off the way he consistently did. Some days I felt like I should be paying him.

Before he pulled away from me, Dean ground the head of his dick into my pussy for a few seconds, driving me nuts.

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet,” he said, the traces of a smile beginning to form on his face. But, just as soon as they appeared, they were gone. And, shortly thereafter, he was back to work. I followed suit.

I finished the laundry, vacuumed the floors and did the rest of my duties as the day wore on, all the while still worked up from all that amazing dick. For the rest of the day his office door was closed, meaning that he was too busy to stop…for anything. At four-thirty I was done for the day, so I went to the living and sat down to rest.

After only a few minutes I heard the office door open and stood up. If there wasn’t anything else to do I would be free to leave, but I didn’t get my hopes up. Dean was horny as hell, and I just knew that he wouldn’t let me go without another good fuck.

“Tanisha?”

“Yes?”

“Can you bring the mail up?”

“Sure.”

I grabbed the stack of letters that I’d brought in earlier and went upstairs. As usual, Dean was on the phone, so I put the mail down and waited patiently by the door. A couple of minutes later he dropped the phone and, after rifling through the letters, looked up at me with that look in his eyes.

“Come here.”

I walked over to Dean and got wet all over again as he removed my skirt and top, leaving me wearing nothing but my bra (my panties were still in the laundry room, my gym shoes still sitting next to Dean’s golf clubs in the corner). After unfastening his pants, he reached out and pulled me into his lap so that I was facing him. Digging my knees into the soft leather on either side of him, I lowered myself onto his dick and began riding him furiously. Dean took my breasts into his mouth, alternating between each one while thrusting into me from underneath. I grabbed his head and held it against my chest almost the entire time, occasionally pulling his lips to mine to steal a kiss. Our lips met over and over again, and when he took control by pulling me down onto his dick I came hard. But we didn’t stop. My cum rolled down between his legs, wetting the brown leather of his chair as our skin rolled back and forth over it. I rode him for a few more minutes before he turned me around so that I was facing the door. My folded knees straddled over both sides of his lap, I bounced up and down on his dick some more, squeezing it as tight as humanly possible. Dean suddenly grabbed my hips on an upstroke and, holding me in the air, started thrusting into me faster than ever. I grabbed the armrests and moaned loudly while he rapid-fired my pussy, quickly bringing me to yet another orgasm.

Once I stopped shaking I found that I had little energy left—it took everything out of me just to squeeze him as he pushed and pulled me over his still-hard dick. After awhile he stopped to catch his breath, and I took advantage of the break. Sliding onto the floor, I turned around and put most of his cock in my mouth, sucking him in fast and hard. Almost immediately Dean stood up and began pushing deeper inside of me, until finally he let go with a loud cry. For the third time that day a huge load was inside me and, without thinking twice, I swallowed all of it.

“God...damn,” was all Dean could say as I released his softening dick. He had to grab the desk to keep from falling over. Just because I could, I sucked his balls into my mouth a few times before standing up.

It was then, in that sudden silence, that we heard a car door slam outside. Was it five o’ clock already? Simultaneously we both looked at the clock on the wall. Sure enough, the minute hand had already crept past the 12. Jeanie was home.

Quickly but calmly I slipped my clothes back on one by one, including my shoes. Dean did the same, and I hurried out, reaching the bottom of the stairs just as the front door opened.

“Mrs. Bell.”

“Hi Tanisha,” she said, not even looking up at me.

“I’m just about to bring the laundry up. Is there anything else you would like me to do before I leave?”

“I trust you swept the laundry room?”

“Yes.”

“Then no.”

I turned to head to the basement.

“Is my husband home?”

“Ummm…I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him all day, he’s either been out or in his office.”

“I see. Well, I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

“Have a good evening, Mrs. Bell.”

Once I got downstairs, I slipped my underwear back on and brought up the laundry. I put it in the bedroom like I always do and walked back out into the hallway. The Bells were busy chatting about something in the office when I grabbed my purse and left.

I slept like the dead that night, but woke up bright and early the next day. After my usual coffee and bagel, I pulled up to the Bell house at 7:45 on the nose and ran in Jeanie on my way in. She left after the usual chitchat and, after briefly primping in the foyer mirror, I headed back upstairs to Dean’s office.

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