Frank Brown

Hot bed housekeeper


Kathy kicked her heels at her husband's hairy, bouncing ass, spurring him on to keep him thrusting, to keep him grinding his hard cock in her itching, clutching pussy.

'Oh, honey!' she gasped, rubbing her tits up hard against his hairy chest. 'Deeper, darling! Make me come!'

Otto grunted like a bull, his eyes closed, the sweat dripping off his nose. His cock turned to steel inside her and started to flex.

'Ahhhhhh!' he growled, collapsing on top of her as his cum shot into her seething, lust pained cunt. 'Awwwwww!'

Kathy squirmed madly under him, rubbing her clit against his sliding, flexing cock, trying desperately to bring herself off. As Otto's orgasm subsided, as his cock began to soften, Kathy crushed him fiercely in the embrace of her arms and legs, digging her fingernails into his back, tongue-kissing him and trying to keep him on top of her. She so desperately wanted to come, needed to came.

As the last drops of cum oozed from Otto's spent cock, he pushed powerfully out of her embrace and rolled off her. He dropped his feet off the bed, stood up, and staggered toward the bathroom without so much as a thank you.

Kathy gritted her teeth, jamming two stiff fingers in and out of her cum-greasy pussy.

'Damn you!' she muttered under her breath, loud enough to vent her frustration, but not loud enough for Otto to hear her. He could get mean if she gave him any lip, especially if she dared complain about his sexual capabilities.

From down the hallway came the sound of the shower running. Kathy moaned freely now as she masturbated, knowing that Otto couldn't hear her. Sprawled naked on the bed, her ass rubbing in the fuck-juices on the sheets, she rocked her hips as she fucked herself. Hew legs were spread wide and her toes clutched with each thrust of her fingers into her crotch. With her free hand, she massaged her tits, tweaking and pinching her hard nipples.

'Feels so good!' she moaned, pretending that her fingers were a hard, driving cock.

She loved getting fucked. She'd always loved getting fucked – which is why she'd married Otto when they were both fresh out of high school. Otto, the big football hero. Otto, the stud every girl in school had lusted over. He'd had a reputation among the girls for being a tireless stallion when it came to fucking, and he'd had a reputation for having a cock as big as a stallion, too.

Both lies. Terrible lies. None of those swooning girls had ever seen Otto's cock, let alone fucked it.

Kathy laughed cynically now as she jerked herself off, her laughter bitter, close to tears. She'd been a fool for not testing Otto out before she'd married him. But she'd been a silly, stupid young girl. When she'd made sexual passes at him and he'd told her that he had too much respect for her to violate her before they got married, she'd found herself even more madly in love with him. Admittedly, she'd been puzzled as to how Otto had managed to gain such a studly reputation with such a sissy attitude toward premarital sex, but then she'd concluded that although he might once have been wild, he had probably matured and changed his ways. He had chosen her, after all, to be his wife. She'd been the envy of all the girls in school.

What a fool she had been to trust a boy who needed a marriage contract before he would fuck!

The truth was that the big football captain had been a virgin until their wedding day. In a motel room Kathy had been shocked to discover: first, that the stallion-cock she'd been breathlessly waiting to see was barely six inches long, and second, that Otto knew nothing about how to use those paltry six inches. Kathy had had to show him where to shove it, for Gods sake! And then, worst of all, it turned out that Otto had absolutely no sexual stamina, no control. He came in seconds, before Kathy had even got warmed up. And after fifteen years of marriage, he hadn't improved his performance. If anything, he came even quicker these days, fucking her every morning for the few seconds he needed to get off before he went to work.

And to top it off, he'd gone to pot. His beautifully sculpted, marble-smooth young body had grown bloated, paunchy, and bristly haired. Kathy hated to even look at him anymore.

She drove her fingers up her pussy to the hilt, twisting them, grinding her knuckles against her clit. A rush of sensation whirled through her loins and her pussy contracted. Her toes clutched with each orgasmic wave and she moaned, writhing naked on the bed, her fingers grinding between her thighs. She arched up, thrusting her tits high, her nipples hard and ready to split.

'Ohhhh yessssss!' she moaned. 'I love the feeeeeeling!'

She fucked herself until every twinge of orgasmic sensation had subsided, then fell back and pulled her fingers out of her cunt and licked Otto's cum off them. She managed to cover herself with a sheet only seconds before he came tromping back into the bedroom, a towel rapped around his sagging paunch. If he had caught her masturbating, ho would have ridiculed her and made her feel like shit.

'You still in bed!' he said. 'Getting lazy in your old age? I'm late for the office. Get me my breakfast.'

Without a word, Kathy slipped out of bed, slipped into her bathrobe, and went to the kitchen to make Otto his breakfast. Sausages and bacon, a half-dozen eggs, toast with tons of butter and jelly, and coffee with lots of cream – this was Otto's daily breakfast. He still ate as if he were a teenage athlete – as if he were a half-dozen teenage athletes.

Kathy had timidly mentioned once that the diet he insisted on eating might be bad for his heart, but Otto had shut her up fast. As long as he was earning their bread and butter, he'd eat what he damned well pleased. Besides, he was still as fit and strong as he'd been in high school, he claimed, a few pounds heavier maybe, but just as strong and fit. Kathy wondered if he'd looked in the mirror lately.

After seeing Otto off to work, Kathy cleaned up the house, then sat around in the livingroom for a few hours, half-reading magazines and half-watching quiz shows on TV. The time crawled by, and her heart thumped with anxiety. She so wanted to get that job at the Chapmans', who lived only a few blocks away. She could work there without Otto ever finding out about it. Otto insisted that a wife's job was to stay at home, whether she had something to do in that home or not, and Kathy was bored to death.

If she didn't get out of here and do something soon, she'd end up in the asylum.

Eleven-thirty finally arrived, and Kathy walked two blocks down the street to a large white house hedged in with tall cedar trees. A new Mercedes sat in the driveway. She rang the front doorbell and heard chimes inside.

'Right on time,' said the smartly dressed woman who opened the door. 'Punctuality is next to Godliness, that's my motto. I cannot abide wasting time. I've taken an extra half hour for my lunch break today in order to come home and meet with you, Mrs. Finn, and I appreciate your being punctual.'

The woman, Lois Chapman, led Kathy to the kitchen, where she was eating a lunch of fruit and yogurt. Lois was tall, slender, attractive, wore glasses, and was dressed like a female business executive, which she was.

'I don't have time for a dozen interviews,' Lois said, 'and you come with adequate references, so consider yourself hired on a probationary basis. Hours are flexible. You may come over to work anytime between seven in the morning and seven at night each weekday. I've made a list of your duties – basically keeping this house clean and straightened up, doing dishes once a day. Particularly, you must pay attention to Randy's bedroom upstairs, which I'm afraid will require a major cleaning every few days.'

At that moment a teenage boy padded into the kitchen on bare feet grubby with street grime. Like his mother, Randy Chapman was tall and slender. He had shaggy blonde hair that hung in his eyes and over his ears. As was his custom, he was dressed in nothing but a pair of too-short, too-tight jean cutoffs. Kathy had watched him skateboard past her house hundreds of times over the years and knew him well on sight.

'What are you doing home in the middle of the day?' the boy asked his mother. He went to the refrigerator and pulled out a plastic pitcher of orange juice.

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