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Cleaning Girl
by Old Grey Duck (duckmeisterx@yahoo.com)

***

A divorced man finds that his cleaning service is NOT 
up to his satisfaction.  But then he hires on a new 
service with an unusual twist. (MF, exh, 1st, oral, bd)

***

"You just can't get good help these days!" I know, we 
have all heard that comment many times. I was grumbling 
it as I once again came home to find a sub-standard job 
as well as a few personal items missing.

I called the cleaning service, and canceled my account, 
stating that I was no longer in need of their services. 
As for the missing stuff, I figured, why bother? The 
girl was Mexican, probably not legal, and would do the 
"I not understand English" crap. As for the necklace 
she took? Well, it was cheap, and belonged to my ex-
wife.

Okay, so who am I? Well, I'm just your averaged 
divorced fellow who writes. No, not major blockbuster 
novels. I am actually a "ghost" for a publishing house 
that puts out a lot of stuff by the latest pop-star or 
actor/actress who thinks that since they are famous, 
they can now write a story or book. Come on, how many 
times have you picked something up at the store, 
thinking that the story might be decent, and it turned 
out to be garbage? 

That's where I come in. I take these disasters and fix 
them (or at least try to). I also do a lot of technical 
writing for manufacturers. Ever wonder about the 
companies that have two hundred and fifty-eight page 
instruction books on how to program your DVR? My doing. 
It exceedingly pays well, but I will never be filthy 
rich from it. Plus, I can do most of it, from my home 
here in Northern California.

Anyway, like I said, I'm divorced. No, it wasn't 
anything major. One day, my wife and I realized that 
with the kids grown, the house paid off, and each of us 
with separate jobs, well, we had nothing in common and 
weren't interested in re-learning what the other person 
was about. She moved out, since she wanted to get a 
total fresh start. I've been to her apartment a few 
times over the years, and we're actually pretty good 
friends! Holiday dinners are shared with our two 
married sons, and their respective families, and we all 
get along quite well.

But, I'm not too good at picking up after myself. I 
admit it; I'm a bit of a slob. Thus, the use of a 
cleaning service.

Picking up the phone book, I opened it to "cleaning 
services". Here was an advertisement that I had not 
noticed before: CUTIE-PIE CLEANERS; AN ADULT FANTASY 
CLEANING SERVICE. Well now! This sounded interesting! I 
dialed and spoke to a customer service rep.

I was told that this was an actual cleaning service, 
but that the girls (and if I wanted, boys) would come 
to the house and while doing their job, wear suggestive 
outfits and role-play. Did I want a Catholic School 
Girl? They had them, complete with white blouse, plaid 
skirt and knee socks. A Roman Slave in a toga? Sure. 
Perhaps the traditional French Maid? She was on her 
way. It sounded like fun, the girls were all Bonded, 
the company had been in business for several years and 
I could check them out with the local Chamber of 
Commerce.

"One final thing," the CSR told me. "We do not in any 
way condone the idea of prostitution. Some folks get 
odd ideas about this service. However," and her voice 
lowered slightly, "I am sure that several of our 
employees will be willing to provide slightly more than 
our standard services for an extra tip." I agreed to 
have a girl come over on Monday's and Thursday's, and I 
would provide any needed cleaning materials. "Any 
particular style of dress?" Surprise me.

Thursday evening, there was a knock at my door. I 
opened it to see a lovely woman of about 24 standing 
here, wearing a long coat that went to her ankles. She 
had dark blonde hair that went to her shoulders, and 
twinkling green eyes. She looked up and smiled. "Mr. B? 
I'm Teresa from the cleaning service. May I come in?" 
As I opened the door, she came in, and asked to use the 
telephone. She dialed (what turned out to be the 
office) and stated: "Teresa, number 40. Account 6218. 
Start 7:15. All good." She hung up and smiled. "We have 
to check in for safety reasons." I nodded.

She hung her coat over a chair and turned to me. I 
could see she was wearing a leather corset, fishnet 
stockings, high-healed boots and a tiny thong panty. 
Her voice turned thick with a slightly German accent. 
"Now, vorm! Ve vill get dis pigsty cleaned! Komm! I 
kommand you to git started."

I had to laugh. "Excuse me, but I though YOU were here 
to do the cleaning. After all, I'm the one paying."

Teresa giggled. "Okay. I just figured that some guys 
like to have someone tell them what to do. How about 
this...?" She took off her boots and sighed as her feet 
relaxed. Her attitude suddenly changed, and she knelt 
in front of me. "Master, how may I serve you?" She 
placed her forehead at my feet.

"Much better," I smiled. "We can get stared with the 
laundry, and then the kitchen. I'll show you where 
everything is. And if you get mouthy with me again, you 
will get a spanking. Understand?"

"Yes Master," Teresa replied. "But," her saucy mouth 
twitched into a grin, "spankings cost extra."

Well, Teresa did as instructed, and I was quite pleased 
with the results of her work. However, I felt compelled 
to remind her that if she was ever assigned to my house 
again, she must remember to behave properly. As she lay 
across my knees, I made sure her ass-cheeks were bright 
pink as I slapped them about a dozen times each. 

I think she was getting turned on, because I detected a 
certain "perfume" in the area of her thong. I paid her 
an extra tip, and she was off. Who would be there on 
Monday? I had no idea. The company would send random 
girls in various outfits until I found one or two to my 
liking, and then they would work for me almost 
exclusively, on the assigned days.

Well, over the next several weeks, I was treated to 
numerous beauties who came to my house dressed in 
outfits that included; Harem Girls, Goth Babes, a 
French Maid, a Cheerleader, Catholic School Girls, 
several Slaves (a popular choice, I was told), Space 
Aliens, a girl in military fatigues, a Vampire, an 
Olympic Figure Skater, and all willing to do a little 
"extra service" for a generous "tip". Numerous times I 
was treated to pleasurable blow-jobs, massages, and 
once, the French Maid took a long bubble-bath with me. 
Then, there was Crystal.

Crystal stood about 5'1", had bleach blonde hair, and 
had breasts that defied gravity. They were 42DDD and 
had the largest nipples I had ever seen on a girl. How 
did I know that? Well, she came to my door as a 
"Cowgirl", dressed in a white hat, boots, leather chaps 
(that left her tight ass exposed) and a fringed vest. 
Nothing else. As she did her work, she chattered 
endlessly about stuff. She was married, her husband was 
in the ARMY and was currently in Iraq. She did this to 
help with finances. She also had a daughter who was six 
months old.

I saw a picture of the baby and said she was pretty 
(what else could I say?). Crystals "talent" was that 
she was lactating, and could squirt milk from her 
breasts at almost any target, and if you wanted some, 
you could have a taste as well (for a generous tip, of 
course). 

She also hinted (as she bent over to pick up a laundry 
basket so I could see her buttocks) that she might be 
willing to do more, since she was alone and her husband 
wasn't due for leave for nearly eight months. How could 
she EVER survive? I admit I was tempted as I studied 
the heart shaped tattoo that was inked into the small 
of her back, just above the crack of her ass.

However, she was married, and for the sake of my peace 
of mind, I declined her implied offer. No need having 
some guy knocking at my door with his M-16.

It was two weeks later that my life took an interesting 
turn. It was Monday, and as the doorbell rang, I opened 
it to see a lovely Pirate Lass. She stood nearly 6'3" 
in her boots, had a tattered black skirt that covered a 
set of dancers legs, a red shirt that was tied off just 
above her midriff, a kerchief around her head, and a 
look of shock on her face.

"Mr. Sterling," she sputtered. "I-I thought..."

"Come in, Erin," I chuckled. "It's nice to see you 
again."

"But when I saw the name, I didn't know... And the 
address, I figured you had moved."

"Nope, still here. The name is the one I use for work. 
Remember?"

"Oh, right."

"And please, just call me Bob."

As I ushered the girl in, I could see she was blushing 
bright red. She checked in at work on the phone, as 
required, and turned to face me.

"Okay," she stammered, "where do I get started?"

I gave her the list of things I needed done, and she 
got to work, occasionally looking over at me as I sat 
at this very computer, writing a biography for the 
latest "goober" who sang in some "boy band" and had 
attempted to write a story about a brave chicken. (Like 
I often have said, most of these folks are idiots.)

I first met Erin about ten years ago, when she was the 
younger sister of my older son's best friend. She would 
often be seen tagging along with her brother because 
her divorced mother wanted her to go out and play. 
There were not many girls in the neighborhood her age. 
Around the time she turned 15, her mother re-married, 
and they moved to another section of town. This was 
five years ago. 

Well, the skinny kid with acne and braces had grown up 
quite a bit, and she was now what some modeling places 
called "girl next door wholesome-beautiful". Her heart-
shaped face was smooth and clear, and her deep brown 
eyes were framed by thick lashes and high cheekbones. 
Her hair was chestnut color, and hung to the small of 
her back. The only thing "lacking" were breasts. She 
was hardly an "A" cup. I remembered how some of the 
boys had teased her, calling her "Miss 2x4". Still, I 
was pleased with how she had turned out.

As Erin went about her business, I asked her how life 
was going for her. She was now twenty, going to school 
at the local community college, and trying to save 
enough to move out on her own. She didn't like her 
step-father at all, but respected her mother's decision 
to marry him. When she was finished, I noted there was 
still about half an hour allotted for my service. I 
usually had the girls for two hours. I told her to sit 
and relax, and if she wanted a coke, to help herself. 
At this point, she got quiet.

"Um, I know the agency states that the employees are 
not supposed to... And that some girls will..." Her 
blush came on full. "You aren't..."

"Relax," I smiled. "You're here to clean the house of 
an old man who enjoys seeing pretty girls working. I'm 
not going to molest you," I winked.

She seemed visibly relieved. "Thanks. It's hard, 
sometimes, because you can go to a place where the 
previous girl did 'extra stuff', and now the customer 
wants the same from you." She studied me. "You didn't 
expect...?"

I had no choice but to laugh. "Erin, you are indeed 
beautiful. But no, I was not going to proposition you. 
I hope you don't mind."

{LIAR!!!} My mind screamed. I was thinking all sorts of 
thoughts about her, but wasn't going to do or say 
anything that would frighten her. After all, I had 
known her as a child.

"Okay. Say, you don't mind if I leave a little early, 
do you? I got a test tomorrow I need to study for."

As she left, I smiled. I told her that if it made her 
feel any better, she could come over in regular street 
clothes if she was assigned here again. She blushed and 
said that she would think it over. She also pocketed 
the $20 tip I gave her for getting done so quickly.

Well, over the following months, I saw just about all 
the girls the service had to offer. Often, these girls 
would have one or two costumes that they kept, 
alternating them each time they came over. I soon 
learned that I was one of the "preferred" clients, 
since I didn't demand anything too unusual, and wasn't 
a pervert. (The girls would tell me what some of the 
other clients had requested of them, and it made my 
mouth drop. "Scat", "Golden Showers", and stuff that 
was REALLY insane, like the controlled choking was just 
some of the stuff listed.) 

Most of the girls actually WANTED to come to my place, 
so they took even turns, laughing that I was a "tame" 
client. The only one who wasn't expecting any extra 
duties, was Erin. I didn't have the heart to ask for or 
let her offer 'extra services', as much as I might have 
enjoyed it.

One night, as she was finishing up, I asked her how 
much she made from the cleaning service. It turned out 
that she only made about $20 per customer, even though 
I paid the service $50 for the two hours that the girls 
were in my place (no wonder lots of the girls charged 
for 'extra services'!). She also told me that with 
final exams just around the corner, she might have to 
cut back on work, which would really cramp her ability 
to save up her money.

"Erin, how does his sound? Suppose I call the agency 
and tell them that I no longer need anyone, and you 
work for me, two nights a week? I can just pay YOU the 
$50 each night. What do you think?"

She kissed me on the cheek and said it was sweet of me 
to offer, but that wouldn't be fair to the other girls. 
She was actually friends with a few of them. We did 
work out a compromise though. I would call and say I 
wanted to reduce my service to once a week, and on 
Thursdays, Erin would come over to clean. I would pay 
her the $50 for that night's cleaning. To keep it from 
looking suspicious, Erin would still come over on 
Mondays about once every few weeks.

The following Monday, Crystal was back. She was 
starting to complain that her breasts were drying up, 
and she was (as usual) tight for money. She had to buy 
formula for her daughter on her way home from work. (I 
asked who was watching her child when she worked, and 
she said she swapped babysitting duties with a friend.) 
Well, I was suckered into giving her $50 for her kid. 
Okay, so she also gave me a lovely blow-job as a thank-
you, but I was worried about her not being able to 
properly feed her child. After all, she only saw $20 
from working at my place. 

After swallowing my spunk, she climbed up into my lap 
and stated that if I wanted her to, she could come over 
at any time. It was no trouble at all. I confess having 
that little nymph sitting naked in my lap with her arms 
around me, nuzzling my neck made me think seriously 
about her offer, but I declined, saying that I was 
happy with the way things were. She then asked me why I 
only had a once a week service now. I answered that I 
was learning to not be so messy, and that I was 
watching my finances. She accepted the answer.

And so, Erin came over on Thursday's, and the other 
girls on Monday's. I confess that I preferred Erin's 
company to the other girls. Why? She was sweet, and 
honestly, I liked her. She would often sit with me, 
after she was done, and we would talk about all manner 
of topics. She also started feeling more comfortable 
with me, and soon the "costumes" gave way to shorts, 
sweats and t-shirts. 

She looked a whole lot prettier in those things, as 
opposed to her pirate outfit or the serving wench 
costume she wore on occasion. In fact, she was staring 
to get so comfortable around me, that she would often 
give me a hug and a kiss on my cheek as she got there 
and left for home. Many a night I would see her to the 
door, and then go to my room and relieve myself, with 
images of her in my mind.

One night, Teresa was over, and said something that 
surprised me. "I heard Crystal saying that you were a 
push-over for a sob story." Excuse me? "She was 
giggling with a friend that she told you she needed 
cash to get baby food, and you forked it over, with no 
thought. She plans on hitting you up again soon."

I tugged at the leash that went to her collar and had 
her sit up like a good puppy and repeat herself, no 
barking.

Sitting up on hind legs and panting, Teresa elaborated. 
"She likes to brag about how much she can get from 
certain clients. It seems you've been tagged as an easy 
mark." She gave a small "yip" and tilted her head to 
one side, trying to look like a happy puppy who was 
trying to please her master.

This gave me pause for thought. I unclipped the leash, 
and Teresa scampered towards the laundry room on all 
fours. "What to do about Crystal?" I though as I 
watched Teresa in her white body stocking (it had spots 
to make her look somewhat like a dalmation).

Well, the following week, she was there. I asked her 
how her daughter was doing. She said that she needed to 
shop for new clothes, since she was growing so much. I 
agreed to fork over another $50 (for yet another 
delightful blow-job). The following day, I called the 
cleaning service and asked that Crystal come back the 
following week. She showed up, all smiles, expecting 
more sex and money.

"Sit down, please," I instructed her. "Tell me what you 
purchased for your daughter with the money you earned 
last week."

She was at a loss for words. Well, I eventually got it 
out of her that she was taking the money and spending 
it on herself. This angered me, since if she had simply 
told me she wanted more cash for herself, I would have 
been okay with it.

"You have been a VERY bad girl!" I pulled Crystal 
across my lap and started spanking her ass. Remember, 
her open cowgirl chaps left them exposed. "I don't like 
little girls that tell lies. Now you will go home, and 
not return here to work. No more extra money for you, 
since you don't spend it properly on your child."

Well, she got a mean look on her face. "I can call the 
police and press charges of assault and solicitation."

"Fine," I smiled. "And my lawyer will ask your employer 
for the list of customers you have worked for, and we 
can see what you have done for them, to earn a little 
extra cash." Her face froze. "Crystal, we can do this 
the easy way, or the hard way. I don't like being taken 
advantage of. You lied. And I doubt you want this to 
blow up in your lovely face, especially since it might 
call into question your ability to parent your child. 
And, what would your husband say?" I stood and escorted 
her to the door. As she put on her coat, she did her 
best to look chagrinned.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "Can I have a second 
chance? Please?"

"Goodnight Crystal. Drive safely."

So, for two months after that, all went well. Until one 
night Erin showed up at my door, crying. Someone had 
been spying on her and had seen her coming to my place 
to work. Her employee contract stated that she was not 
supposed to work privately for clients of the service. 
As a result, she was fired. Guess who felt guilty, 
since he had been the one to suggest the idea? And 
guess who had been the one spying? If you guessed 
Crystal, you were correct. And after that, guess who 
would now be coming over to clean TWICE a week? I felt 
it was only proper, since I was the one who created the 
mess.

After that, we settled into a routine that worked well 
for us. On occasion, I had to travel for my job, so 
Erin would let herself into the house with her own key. 
Usually there was little to do by now, so I often had 
her just sit, relax, work a little and enjoy dinner 
with me. To a casual observer, one might think we were 
father and daughter. But oh, how I continued to 
fantasize about her.

The night Erin turned twenty-one, she was supposed to 
go to dinner with her mother and step-father. It was a 
Friday, and I was at home watching an old movie on 
cable. Around midnight, I heard the door open. Erin 
came staggering in, drunk, and her makeup was smeared 
across her face from dried tears. Her dress was 
slightly twisted and she was barefoot. "Gotta work," 
she slurred. "Erin's gotta work for her money to get 
her own place now."

I grabbed her before she toppled over and asked what 
had happened.

Well, her step-father had decided to open her mail and 
saw her bank statement. She had several thousand 
dollars in her account. He grew angry, saying that 
since she was now a legal adult, and had all her money, 
he was throwing her out. As a final gesture, he took 
away Erin's car and house keys, saying the car was his, 
and she could come for her stuff when he was there to 
make sure she didn't steal anything. Her mother did 
little to stop his actions. All this, over a nice 
dinner out. He was a real "prince". On her walk over to 
my place, Erin had stopped at a liquor store and 
purchased a bottle of rum, which she had "chugged" and 
tossed away when finished. Where her shoes were is 
anyone's guess.

"Gotta work!" Erin slurred and giggled. "Need money. My 
favorite boss has money. Can I earn any extra tonight?" 
She leaned over on me and wrapped her arms around me to 
place a sloppy kiss in the area of my mouth.

What a temptation. Drunk, beautiful and willing. I 
couldn't do it. I lead Erin to the kitchen and sat her 
down. She continued to tell me about how much of an 
asshole her step-father was, and how she hated the 
bastard. I listened silently, making coffee as she 
ranted. Suddenly she got quiet, and her face had the 
expression we all well know when someone is about to be 
sick. Grabbing her, I spun her to the sink as she 
voided her stomach into the empty stainless steel 
fixture.

After that, she sank to the floor and wept. What could 
she do? Where would she live? Her tears flowed down her 
cheeks, making dark tracks. Twenty one is supposed to 
be a wonderful birthday. Not for Erin.

"Stay here tonight," I whispered. "I have a guest 
room."

She agreed, and I helped her to the spare room. As she 
slipped her dress off, she turned to face me, wearing 
only her bra and undies.

"Bob, and I pretty?"

"You are magnificent," I answered. "You are also tired 
and drunk. So let us get you into bed." I handed her an 
old t-shirt of mine to cover herself with. As I pulled 
a quilt over her, I kissed her nose. "Sleep tight, 
princess. We can deal with this in the morning."

Saturday morning, Erin came shuffling down the hall, 
looking like a train wreck. As I poured some fresh 
coffee, I asked her what her plans were.

"No idea," she answered. This came at a bad time for 
me, since I was trying to save for my own car (the 
step-father still had the one she used in his name) and 
I am supposed to transfer into CSUS for my last two 
years, in a month." She tugged at the shirt that did 
little to cover her hips. I did my best to avoid ogling 
her ass. "Now I need to regroup and find a place. I can 
look in the paper, there's a section for folks looking 
to rent out rooms. I figure I can find a furnished 
place for a while."

"How about this?" I replied. "I'm in and out a lot, and 
gone a few days each month. Suppose you stay here. I 
have two rooms you can choose from, and you can just 
keep the place clean to cover your rent. Hell, if you 
keep it looking as good as it is, you can stay here, 
and I'll still pay you!"

"Are you serious?" Hope glistened in Erin's eyes.

"Very," I answered. "I've grown quite fond of you, 
Erin. I just hope you don't get tired of me being 
underfoot," I winked.

"NEVER!" Erin gasped, and she gave me a tight hug and a 
warm kiss on my unshaven cheek. "Thanks so much! I 
can't believe my good luck!"

The luck was mine.

So she moved in. Our relationship evolved from a 
cautious sizing up of how we fit into the other 
person's life, to one of almost a couple. We would 
often have dinner together and laugh about our day, or 
just relax on the sofa each evening, watching TV. There 
were even times I helped her with homework! And I was 
slowly falling in love with a girl who was young enough 
to be my daughter.

One fringe benefit of having Erin around was that she 
was quite generous with her hugs, and kisses. She would 
often snuggle with me at night on the sofa, as we 
watched TV and I often found my arm around her, pulling 
her tight against me. But when it was time for us to 
retire for the night, she would give me a tender kiss, 
and shut her door. How many times I had stood there, 
wanting to knock on it, and go in to share her bed? To 
pull her into my arms and make love to her, and make 
her realize what she meant to me? But I never did, 
fearing I would shatter her trust in me.

One Sunday, my phone rang. It was my son, calling from 
Maryland, where he now lived with his wife and kids. 
Erin answered it, and then called out for me to pick 
up.

"Hey dad, who was that?" Paul asked.

"My roomie," I chuckled. "She rents your old room, and 
keeps the place clean. In fact, you might remember her. 
Erin. Your old friend Will's kid sister."

"JESUS CHRIST ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?" he thundered. 
"She's not even an adult yet! You'll go to jail and..."

"Hold on, buddy!" I laughed. "It's all above board. She 
needed a place to stay, I needed someone to keep an eye 
on things. And it's close for her to go to school 
during the day."

"But dad," Paul sputtered, "she's what, twenty? You 
should find a woman your own age! Jesus Christ! I can't 
believe this! What if she gets pregnant?"

"First off, Jesus Christ has no say in the matter. 
Second, she is twenty one. Third, while it's none of 
your business, there's nothing going on between us like 
that. Your old man can keep his dick in his pants, if 
need be, so relax."

"Okay," Paul grumbled. "I guess you have it worked out, 
so what can I say?"

"Nada," I replied. "Nada god-damned thing. So, care to 
tell me why you called?"

"Um, to ask you what was new?"

That night. Erin came to my room and knocked on my 
door. I called her in, and as she slipped inside, I 
could see the hall light washing through her nightgown, 
showing the outline of her delicious body. I was glad I 
was under my blanket, so she couldn't see my sudden 
arousal. She sat down next to me and blushed.

"Tell your son to relax. I couldn't get pregnant even 
if I wanted to."

"Huh?"

"I heard part of your conversation with Paul on the 
phone before I hung up. He was worried I will seduce 
you, have a baby, and squander your wealth on myself." 
She gave a soft smile. "Believe me, I have no designs 
of that nature."

"Okay. So what was that you said about not being able 
to get pregnant?"

Erin grew silent, here eyes lost focus, and her voice 
seemed to come from far away when she spoke. "When I 
was seven, I went away to camp. I was supposed to be a 
wonderful summer. It turned out to be a nightmare. 
There were cabins grouped by age and gender. Well, one 
night, I had to go to the bathroom. We were supposed to 
wake our counselor so she could escort us. I didn't. 
Some of the staff were having a party, and a bunch of 
the kitchen crew were drinking heavily. There was also 
some drugs. I stumbled onto them, and one of them 
grabbed me and said, 'Lets have some fun!' Before I 
could scream, a hand was over my face, and I was being 
dragged into the woods." 

Tears started leaking from her eyes. "I was gang raped 
for several hours, then when they sobered up and 
realized what was happening, they left me half alive 
and in shock, and partially buried, so it looked like I 
was attacked by some animal. I was all torn up inside 
and almost bleed to death. I was found the next day, 
but I was near death. My insides were beyond repair, 
and I was given an emergency hysterectomy. It was the 
only way to stop the bleeding." 

By now, she was weeping freely. I sat up and wrapped my 
arms around her, hugging her close. "I had my innocence 
stolen, my future ripped away, and the fuckers only got 
five years each. Ever wonder why I didn't grow boobs? 
Only one ovary. It's not putting out much estrogen. So, 
I am 'Miss 2x4' forever, unless I get a boob-job. 
Fucked up, huh?"

"Oh god, Erin, I am so sorry. I had no idea!" I held 
her in my arms and rocked her gently. "I can't even 
begin to imagine the horror of an experience like 
that."

"How could you know?" she sobbed. "For a few years, I 
went to a shrink for a couple of years, but it wasn't 
doing me any good, so I said the right things, and 
eventually they said that I was 'over it and well 
adjusted'.  Now, I don't like to talk about it, and 
I've never could bring myself to date anyone when I was 
older. So, guess what? Except for that night, I've 
never even had sex!"

"Being attacked doesn't qualify as sex," I answered. 
"And one day, I am certain you will find a man who will 
love you no matter what happened, and when you do share 
yourself with him, it will be magical for both of you."

"Thanks," Erin continued sobbing. "I want to believe 
it. But all the guys I've met since then are jerks. My 
step-father, guys in school, JERKS!" Looking at me, she 
managed a half smile. "Present company excluded."

"Oh, I can be a jerk at times, too. Just ask my ex-
wife!"

That made her laugh. "Thanks Bob. You have no idea how 
much I appreciate you." She slid over and lay down next 
to me, her head on a pillow. "One day, YOU will find a 
lucky woman too."


"Perhaps," I smiled. "Not try to relax a little and get 
some rest."

"Sure," Erin sighed. We lay there silently together, me 
holding her, and soon I could hear her breathing grow 
slow and deep. Twisting, I pulled the covers over her, 
kissed her cheek, and tried not to wake her as I lay 
there awake for most of the night thinking of what she 
had said.

After living with a person for several months, you find 
yourself more at ease with them than you had 
anticipated. By now, it was not uncommon for me to spot 
Erin running around at the start or end of the day 
partially dressed. Her bra & panty sets were usually 
mismatched and she made no effort to be shy. 

It was not unusual for me to have her barge into the 
bathroom while I was showering, so she could get 
something, or brush her teeth. For my part, I did my 
best to stay calm, and always gave her privacy when she 
wanted it. But there were times when I thought my 
tightly restrained control would slip, and I would say 
or do something that I might regret. Maybe it was the 
'forbidden fruit' thing. A beautiful girl who is young 
enough to be my daughter, and is actually interested in 
what I think, say, and do! And I found that I wanted to 
know what was happening in her mind as well.

I bought her a car with one of my royalty checks. It 
was only a Ford Focus (used), but the way she carried 
on, you would think it was a Porsche. "Think of it as a 
belated birthday gift," I had told her, when I handed 
her the keys. "But be careful! Red cars attract cops 
like they have signs overhead saying; LOOK AT ME!".

Later that night over dinner, I thought she would cry 
as she thanked me once again. I told her that I enjoyed 
her being around, and valued her friendship. "Just 
that?" she asked with a twinkle in her eyes. "Oh, 
right," I answered. "And you always fold my socks." The 
following week, I found that every pair of socks had 
been intentionally mismatched and tied into a knot, as 
opposed to being folded in on themselves. God, I loved 
her.

One afternoon, while at the store, who should I bump 
into, but Teresa! Well, she wanted to know how Erin 
was, since after she was fired, Teresa had no idea how 
to contact her. It seems that a lot of the girls either 
used false names, or never mentioned their last name. 
Teresa had wanted to tell Erin that Crystal's husband 
had come home from Iraq, and had discovered her 
'entertaining' a client in their own home! The client 
was dead (shot with a military issue .45), the husband 
was in jail, and Crystal was undergoing cosmetic 
reconstruction on her lovely face, which her husband 
had smashed with his fists. 

The child was taken away by social workers. I managed a 
tight smile, and thought about Crystals offer to me so 
many months ago. I then told Teresa that Erin was now 
staying with me, and she should come over to visit. She 
did, that very evening, and we had a great time. 

To my relief, Teresa never mentioned the times that she 
had earned a few extra dollars from me, either as a 
slave, or in one of her other guises. Erin might have 
suspected, but since she was so happy to see Teresa, 
said nothing. I excused myself for the night, as I was 
tired, while the two of them caught up with each other. 
As I went down the hallway, I heard them gushing about 
some band. The name was slightly familiar, and I 
recalled hearing that they would be at the local 
concert hall.

Okay, at my age, going to a "Black Eyed Peas" concert 
was not something I was bound to enjoy. The music was 
loud. The people were rude (I was asked many times who 
was my daughter, and was she dating anyone?). The air 
reeked of stale beer and smoke. And I had a headache 
the size of Texas when it was over. But Erin had fun, 
so it was worth it. She danced, she sang along, and got 
a big smile on her face that lasted the whole night. On 
the drive home I kept the radio off, and allowed my 
head to stop pounding. Erin gently teased me, saying 
that next time, we could go to the symphony, if I 
wanted to. I began planning my revenge.

As I mentioned earlier, I live in Northern California. 
We're only an hour's drive to the San Francisco Bay 
area. As a result, we are also only about a three hour 
drive from Reno, Nevada. For my birthday, I decided to 
get a room at a casino/hotel, and take Erin with me for 
a concert that "the old fart" could handle. I didn't 
tell her who, but made sure we packed Hawaiian shirts 
and there was a grass skirt for her to wear over her 
shorts. Well, by the second set, Erin was a confirmed 
"parrot head". If any of you have ever been to a Jimmy 
Buffet concert, you know it's actually more like a 
party with 5,000 of your best friends. Three hours 
after the concert started, it ended with a monster jam 
that had everyone jumping and dancing like there was no 
tomorrow.

Walking back to the hotel from the concert, Erin 
slipped her hand in mine. We walked along, taking in 
the sights and sounds around us. Suddenly, we were 
stopped by a street vendor with a camera. As it turned 
out, we were under the big sign at the entrance to the 
downtown area that says: "WELCOME TO RENO, AMERICAS 
BIGGEST LITTLE CITY" all in bright lights. Did we want 
our picture taken? Sure. I paid the guy $20.oo and he 
took our picture. He then plugged it into a laptop he 
kept in his car, along with a printer. Within moments, 
a fresh 8x10 picture zipped out, and we thanked him.

Back in our room, Erin smiled and told me she wanted to 
shower first. As I sat on the king sized bed (only one 
in the room, but we had shared a bed on several 
occasions by now, so...), I could hear her humming to 
herself as she splashed under the hot water...

"I don't know where I'm gonna go when the volcano 
blow...!"

"The weather is here, I wish you were beautiful..."

"Come Monday, it'll be all right..."

"So honey, why don't we get drunk, and screw...?"

I had to chuckle as she opened the door, wrapped in a 
big towel. "All done?" I asked. "Yup," she grinned. 
"Your turn!" She shoved me towards the bathroom door.

When I came out, she was snuggled under the sheets, and 
the lights were on low.

"I figured you might want to get a late dinner or go to 
a casino," I smiled.

"No," she answered. "It's your birthday. Time for you 
to get your gift." Erin patted the bed and indicated I 
should get in next to her.

As I slid in next to her, I noted that she was naked. I 
felt the heat rising in my face, as well as the rest of 
me. "Erin," I sighed, "I'm not sure if we should do 
this. You're so young and you deserve..."

She shut me up by placing a finger over my lips. 'Bob, 
you have no idea how much I want to do this. You took 
me in, gave me hope when I needed it, you don't force 
yourself on me, even though I know you would love to," 
she grinned as she said this, "and I can think of no 
better person to give myself to, on my first time. You 
were right, what happened to me when I was a child has 
no bearing on now."

I was stunned. Her next words and actions stunned me 
even more. "Bob, I love you," and she kissed me firmly 
on the mouth. Not the light 'peck' that she often gave 
me, but a mind-blowing kiss that had me curling my toes 
with anticipation. "Take me, but be gentle, please."

I lay her back in the bed and started to trace every 
contour of her body with trembling hands. My lips found 
hers, and our tongues wrestled. She shivered as my 
hands caressed her nipples and when I placed a soft 
kiss on one, her sharp intake of breath told me she was 
not expecting it to feel so good. For almost an hour, I 
lay there with her, allowing things to build up to a 
point where I felt she would truly be ready for me. 

I slipped a finger down to the soft area of her aroused 
and moist lips. When I shifted to place a kiss there, 
she gasped my name and begged me not to stop. For 
several minutes, I licked and nibbled her soft flesh 
that tasted of summer wine and flowers. Suddenly, she 
started shaking and moaning. I slipped a second finger 
inside her, and that seemed to start the fireworks. 
Erin had her first orgasm. She was ready for me.

Slipping up, I kissed her again, and gently positioned 
myself to enter her. I looked into her shimmering eyes 
and silently asked if she was sure. She nodded, and I 
eased myself into her.

Tight. Soft. Velvet. Wet.

Erin wrapped her legs around my back, and pulled me 
into her, all the while gasping and begging me to go 
deeper and harder. I was thrilled to oblige. For how 
long we stayed in that manner, my thrusting as deep as 
possible into her, I have no idea. But all of a sudden, 
Erin got a vacant look on her flushed face and started 
sobbing and groaning in a voice that started out soft, 
and went up to that of a banshee wailing. She pulled me 
tight against her, clawing at my back. "OH-GOD-OH-GOD-
OH-GOD-OH! ... YESSSSS!!" I could feel her insides 
clamping down on me like a vise. A few thrusts after 
that, I could hold back no longer. I felt as if my 
insides were turning out as I filled her with my own 
white-hot explosion.

Laying there, with Erin curled up next to me, I felt 
that life could not be more wonderful. Gently stroking 
her tangled hair, I pulled her tight against my chest, 
savoring the smell of our sweat and sex, and asked her 
how she felt.

"Perfect," she sighed as she drifted to sleep.

Well, things changed quite nicely for us after that. 
Erin was still the delight of my life, and she quickly 
became more than a "roomie" for me.

Upon our return home, she took it upon herself to move 
some of her clothes into my room, and promptly took 
over most of the dresser and closet space. I didn't 
care. All I could do was love her even more for taking 
the bold step forward that made us lovers.

And the sex? DEAR GOD! She was insatiable at times. The 
once shy and sexually naïve girl was suddenly a woman 
who seemed to be constantly horny. I confess that a 
trip to the doctor had me making a purchase of those 
magic pills that Bob Dole used to do commercials for. 
Not that I always needed them, mind you, but when you 
have a woman more than half your age to satisfy in bed, 
they are nice to have as a back-up. 

If things were not going like I wanted, half a dose 
quickly put things to right. All I had to do was dine 
on Erin's delicious pussy while I waited for "things" 
to happen. She was very understanding in that 
department. Plus, she stated that she loved it when I 
made her cum so much she felt herself flooding. Having 
me lick it all up and then kissing her so she could 
taste herself on my lips just made her go even more 
wild.

That was four years ago. She is still the light of my 
life, and she has finally worked up the nerve to agree 
to marry me. I told her that even though we couldn't 
have children, I wanted her to know that I loved her 
more than life itself. It took her almost two years to 
say "yes", saying that she wanted to be sure. I told 
her that I had waited for her when she first moved in, 
and I would wait for her to be my wife.

So, the wedding is this coming August. We chose the 
14th because it was the date that she first showed up 
on my doorstep in her silly Pirate outfit. Her wardrobe 
in that department has also expanded to include frilly 
and sheer items of a sexual nature that she wears for 
me when she comes home from work (she put her college 
degree to good use and is a manager at the company she 
works for). Our families are still not fully 
comfortable with all of this, but we say that it is 
their concern, not ours.

August 14th, I can hardly wait.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 54