Grace Wilkenson
The Family Swappers book One
Chapter 1
Erick pulled he young maid down with him into the tall willowy grass of the sand dune. He'd carried her far enough away so that he knew they would not be disturbed, and the fact that she had come with him made him know that he could do what he wanted with her. Not that he hadn't really known that all along. There were few maids who cared to resist him for one reason or another, and the reason was usually that he knew just how to get to them. He'd been watching this one ever since she came to the house. She was his sister-in-law Sylvie's personal maid.
And because Sylvie gave her little to do, it appealed to him to take up a little of the young servant girl's time. She was not more than 19, dark haired and freckle-faced. What a little beauty. He'd gotten her out of the house in her full maid's regalia, that ridiculous gray and white outfit with the ruffled apron in front just like some old fashioned French maid. Erick knew that it was his mother, Thelma, who insisted that all the family servants dress this way, even though she had her own town house in Grandville and only came out to the nearby shore from time to time to check up on what was going on.
Erick pushed himself down over the faintly struggling girl's body and kissed first the nape of her neck, and then started pulling away the top of her uniform. It was easy enough to pull the zipper down and to spread the front of it so that he could touch and kiss her pale freckled shoulder. She giggled and protested, but his hands sought out the small round orbs of her breasts, beneath the prim little brassiere that she wore.
Christ, he hadn't been with a girl who wore a brassiere in so long, it felt positively wicked! Suddenly, he knelt up and pulled her up to her knees in front of him.
'Beautiful!' he cried, 'you're exquisite!'
'Mr. Cassidy… Oh… please…!' The maid, Ella, was blushing and looking down into the sand before them. She wanted to run away, but yet she knew she couldn't. At the same time, she felt flattered that Erick Cassidy had been paying all this attention to her. For the past two weeks now he had been whispering compliments into her ear whenever he saw her about the house, and now today what with everyone gone and the others either resting in the blockade of rooms reserved for the servants or gone to town themselves for the day, and Mrs. Cassidy up in her room, he'd found her and taken her out to walk on the beach.
Ella thought about the letter she'd been writing to her boy friend in the Army. When he returned they would be married. How wonderful that she had not gotten pregnant in spite of having given into him the night before his departure for Vietnam. She was not pregnant and no one would know of the evil thing she had done. It had, after all, been very quick, and she'd scarcely felt a thing, except the initial pain and then a few quick thrusts and she'd waited and then Johnny told her that it was over. Erick Cassidy had told her she could finish writing the letter later, that a beautiful day like today wouldn't wait for them to enjoy it, and now here she was.
He was so strong… so good looking and his fingers seemed to burn her skin wherever he touched her. He was like a young god kneeling before her, and she felt unaccountably lowly and ashamed in his presence. She also felt a strength of emotion at his insistent nearness, his touching and his kissing that she could not remember ever feeling with her boy friend, Johnny. She felt herself beginning to tremble even though the sun was very warm as Erick began to peel away her uniform. Bit by bit it was being taken off of her there in broad daylight. Even though there was no one about for miles she seemed to feel eyes on her.
Everyone would see her, know what she had done. But she remained limp, unable to understand why she did not stop the young master of the house. He was famous… they were all famous and they brought all those wonderful people she had only seen in magazines to the house, and now she was here alone with him, and he wanted to be with her!
Erick's hands smoothed downward pushing her short dress down along her torso until it rode around the young girl's full rounded hips. Then he pulled it all the way down treating his eyes to her blushing beauty, her almost schoolgirl attitude as her semi-nakedness was revealed bit by bit to his lusting eyes. Soon she was wearing nothing but stockings and panties and her high heeled pumps. Her dark curly hair blew in the wind as ashamed, the young girl avoided his stare. The soft nakedly trembling protusions of her breasts now freed from the enclosing fabric of her cotton brassiere seemed to be just waiting for Erick's lips to take the brown nipples in like ripe berries that he would suck for a long while.
Erick ran his hands up the length of Ella's calves, letting the thin skin of her nylon stockings sing beneath his fingers until he touched the nakedness of her fully rounded thins and then her panties and then her small waist. He hooked his thumbs in at the top of her panties and pulled them down exposing a gently rounded belly with deeply inset navel and then as he continued rolling the nylon material, the dark twining curls of the servant girl's pussy hair became evident.
'Ah!' Erick cried, feeling his hunger for the little teen-ager mounting by the second. Ella squirmed and began to whimper. 'No… no… oh, pleassseee don't, Mr. Cassidy!'
But they both knew that it was too late for that sort of thing and she did not protest as he slid down both her panties and stockings which were attached together by snaps.
Ella felt cold now that she was naked and she felt her entire body begin to quake. Erick had replaced her high heels upon her naked feet and she felt utterly strange… dreamlike, sitting there in the sand with him like that. She felt it couldn't be really happening to her, and yet she knew it was, and Erick Cassidy was undressing in front of her, moving with an urgency that frightened her. His hard and muscular body stood tensed and naked before her within seconds and she found herself staring at the hard-up-thrusting weapon of his penis. It was long and fiercely red, the bloated tip fully emerged from the thick foreskin as the sturdy vein covered shaft bobbed expectantly before her.
The teen-aged girl uttered a cry, her eyes big as saucers as she stared mesmerized at the lewd sight of her employer's masculinity.
'Like it?' Erick inquired, his voice thick with lust as he moved toward her.
The snow white curtains billowed inward as the sea breeze blew against them, and Sylvie lay on her side in bed watching the clear blue sky that showed through the open glass panes. She could feel the emptiness of the big house downstairs, and the vast upstairs bedrooms that flanked hers were empty, tool she knew. The young woman sighed and turned over on her back staring up now at the unmarred surface of the high white ceiling above her. Her long blonde hair lay spread behind her on the pillow creating a frame for her softly availed face with its finely chiseled features. In her white cotton beach robe, a long, simply cut gown that covered her swim-suit clad nakedness beneath, Sylvie looked like a fairy-tale princess come to life. It was a look that her husband had loved in her, that he had in fact required of her.
'You'd look just perfect in the oval room of the White House!' he'd told her once, 'and I intend to see you there often!'
Sylvie could feel her heart beating, and could hear the inner sound of her blood rushing through her veins, pounding at her temples.
'I should have gone with him!' she said suddenly out loud, her voice breaking into the lazy silence of the room. Sylvie sat up and moved toward the door. She couldn't stand a moment longer in the room alone.
It was too dreadful having Tim away… hundreds of miles away from her. She couldn't even stand to imagine him, speaking to all those people campaigning in all those small towns in the northern part of the state. She knew what it was like to see all those faces turned toward you, some with admiration, but others with suspicion and curiosity.
That feeling of being touched, clutched at as she walked through the density of the crowds, or passed them in a slow motorcade. Tim Cassidy was not even Senator yet, but the crowd sensed that he soon would be … that
