The Au Pair
written by:
Stevie Wonder-ful

I rubbed a little more oil into the palms of my hands and minutely adjusted the small towel that covered my boss's panty clad arse.

I took a deep breath and slowly released it, knowing I had reached the point of no return.

I slowly slid both hands across the back of Mrs Keilty's tanned and toned thighs, massaging them from the backs of her knees to the hem of the towel.

My attention was firmly on the shadowed region where both of her long, beautifully shaped legs met and my fingers trembled slightly as they inched closer.

I paused as Mrs Keilty moved under my touch, expecting an outraged rebuke as she realised the liberty I was about to take with her, but instead she let out a contented sigh and relaxed her muscles even further, creating easier access for my fingers.

Steeling myself internally for the chaos I was positive was about to ensue, I slid one soft and well-lubricated hand along her thigh and under the towel, until my index finger brushed lightly against the silky material of her panties.

Refusing to let fear and apprehension intrude upon my goal, I immediately pressed my finger against my boss's lingerie, hard enough to feel her vaginal lips under my finger tip.

I froze as Mrs Keilty drew a breath but couldn't contain a grin as she whispered, "That's nice...and it's about time!"

I had been working as an au pair for Mr and Mrs Keilty for close to six months now and had first taken Mr Keilty's cock into my mouth exactly a fortnight after I'd started.

Mr Keilty was a quiet and rather handsome man in a conventional, middle-aged kind of way who ran his own accountancy business while his wife was the principal at an exclusive girls school down the coast. Both husband and wife were loving, attentive but extremely busy parents to two intelligent young daughters, hence their need for me.

Their advert in the Uni newspaper had been fortuitous as I was rapidly losing ground in my quest to finance my education independently and a terse interview coupled with two glowing references from the Uni itself had resulted in a month's trial taking care of their daughters while they were working long hours.

Allowing Mr Keilty to explode convulsively into my mouth and then swallow all of his semen before licking his rapidly deflating penis clean, had made the trial period a formality.

I clearly remembered the day Mr Keilty had arrived home from work one morning, long after his wife and daughters had left for school and I was struggling on an assignment at the kitchen table.

He'd seemed surprised to see me in the house and had sheepishly admitted to taking the afternoon off to make the most of the beautiful spring weather.

I'd welcomed the distraction from my assignment and had willingly shown an interest as he told me about his love of touring bikes and had happily followed him into the garage so he could show me his beloved Harley Davidson.

I was back struggling with my paperwork twenty minutes later when Mr Keilty walked into the kitchen, dressed in jeans, motorbike boots and a leather jacket. He held an open-faced bike helmet in each hand.

"Need a break from that?" he'd smiled and proffered one of the helmets, "It's a lovely afternoon for a ride down the coast."

It had taken me all of a minute to stow my things into my battered old hatchback that slowly leaked oil onto the Keilty's driveway and swing my leg across his pillion seat.

The sun had beat down warmly on my back as we'd roared aimlessly down the coast; the side of my face resting comfortably against Mr Keilty's broad back as I'd admired the spectacular coastal views.

The warmth of the sun and relaxing effect of the bike had made me relax by inches and it wasn't until I felt Mr Keilty move subtly in the saddle, that I realised my hands had dropped from around his waist and now rested lightly in his lap, against his groin.

My face had immediately flushed bright red but even as my hands shot away in reflex, my brain registered the stiff bulge covered in denim under my accidental touch.

A series of possibilities had flashed through my brain, not the least of which was how would I manage if I was fired after the remaining two week trial period. Inexorably, my shaking hands had slid back into his lap.

I was lightly massaging the cock that strained beneath his jeans when he abruptly turned off the road and we bumped hastily along a gravel track until he stopped the bike in a small clearing amongst the thick scrub.

I had nimbly unzipped his jeans and extricated his engorged member from within before he'd even turned the bike off and hauled it onto its side stand.

I'd swung off the bike, and was kneeling before him as he moved to sit sidesaddle, his cock long and stiff and still grasped comfortably in my left hand.

I'd quietly but firmly shushed his embarrassed babbling before feeding his bobbing cock into my mouth.

I'd rubbed the base of his penis with my hand while running my tongue around the head of his cock, sucking gently and rhythmically upon his thick shaft.

Thirty seconds later an anxious cough had preceded a flood of warm, salty semen into my mouth which I had effortlessly swallowed, working softly on his cock to milk every last drop.

I'd licked away all traces of his seed by the time his dick had become completely flaccid and I'd pulled him to his feet as I tucked him back in and carefully zipped up his fly.

"Ready?" I'd asked cheerfully as I'd climbed back onto the pillion seat.

We'd returned home long before I'd had to pick up his daughters from school and start my daily shift of homework, uniform laundry and dinner.

Mr Keilty though, had been only half of the problem. His wife had been a lot more standoff-ish right from the start and where-as her husband and children had enthusiastically included me in their lives, Mrs Keilty had treated me strictly as an employee.

The contrast in how the married couple treated me, couldn't have been more apparent.

Mrs Keilty was polite and courteous in my presence; treating me with a studied, cool indifference while making sure that I looked after her children with due professional care.

Mr Keilty on the other hand, slid trembling hands inside my blouse or up my skirt every chance he got and would eagerly hold my head in his hands as I knelt before him and sucked him off in very much the same manner of our first encounter.

As his confidence and comfort with the situation had grown, Mr Keilty had taken to meeting me in the garage when his family were busy elsewhere in the house, where he'd bend me over the seat of his Harley and tear my knickers off before taking me roughly from behind. If the house was empty, the big bike would have its motor running and I'd feel the vibration running through me as I straddled the seat, facing the sissy bar as I was enthusiastically fucked. I'd routinely cook dinner for his family or help his children with their homework while his semen soaked into my tattered underwear or slid stickily down my thighs.

The chance to ingratiate myself with Mrs Keilty had occurred about a month ago, when she had sidled into the house, bent over in obvious pain. Amid loud concern from her family, it appeared she had thrown her back out while moving boxes filled with student files.

My offer of relief had been laughed off that first night in favour of strong painkillers.

The shake of her head had been just as resolute on the second and third nights, despite being laid-up in bed for most of the preceding days.

Mrs Keilty was unable to hide the look of pain and desperation on the fourth night however and reluctantly rolled onto her stomach on her bed, dressed modestly in a neck to knee nightgown.

Despite the clothing restrictions, I had worked carefully and methodically on the spasming muscles of her back for the better part of an hour and when I'd finished, she was able to join the family for dinner in one of the kitchen chairs.

I'd treated Mrs Keilty's back for the next three or four consecutive evenings until she was relatively free of pain.

It hadn't taken much convincing to persuade her that massage could be a preventative treatment for muscle pain and we'd quickly settled into a routine where I massaged her back every second or third evening.

So the trembling digit that gently fingered Mrs Keilty through her flimsy underwear was the result of a month of slow and careful massage, silently rejoicing in the way she grew more and more relaxed under my touch.

I rubbed the knuckle of my finger against her pussy, enjoying both the dampness of her panties and the low groan of enjoyment that escaped from my employer's pursed lips.

I flicked the small towel off of her full arse and let it fall to the floor, before cupping one cheek and fondling it smoothly.

I caught the edge of her panties with one finger and inched the material from her ripe buttock until the material nestled snuggly in the crack of her arse and the creamy flesh of one cheek was bare.

I repeated the move on the other side until her arse lay naked before me; one of my hands fondling her voluptuous bum while the other still toyed with her silk covered vagina.

Taking a deep breath, I worked my index finger under the material; feeling her damp, hot flesh and pubic hair, before letting the finger sink deeply into her wet and warm pussy.

My boss's arse rose rapidly to meet my curious finger and I heard her gasp loudly as I plunged it roughly inside of her.

I easily slid my middle finger into her slippery pussy and bent both as I fondled her gently and rather expertly.

I watched Mrs Keilty flex her knees so that she could push her arse further off the bed and bring her own hand down against her excited cunt, instantly finding and working upon her clitoris.

Mrs Keilty matched my movements as I rhythmically fingered her pussy, working on her own clit to increase her pleasure.

I spat lightly in the palm of my free hand and caressed one of Mrs Keilty's cheeks and was immediately rewarded with a moan of pleasure and a wiggle of her arse.

I felt my own pussy begin to throb warmly as the smell of Mrs Keilty's excitement filled my nostrils and her squeals of pleasure filled the room.

Roles changed subtly as Mrs Keilty set the pace as she fingered her clit and I timed my finger thrusts with her increasingly frantic movements.

I felt her body grow tense around my pistoning fingers as a climax swept over her and her convulsing vagina squeezed my fingers tightly.

I continued to finger my boss until she collapsed on the bed, her own arm still beneath her, her hand still pressed against her cunt.

An awkward silence enveloped the bedroom as I carefully extricated my fingers from within her and I was about to leave shamefully when Mrs Keilty turned onto her back and sat up in the bed, pulling a sheet modestly over her bare legs and groin.

"Thank you" she smiled and reached across to take my hand in hers, "Same time next week?"

The sound of the front door slamming shut interrupted my reply and I was out of the bedroom door even before the sound of Mr Keilty and the girls ransacking the kitchen pantry floated up the stairs.

I was on my way into the kitchen to cook dinner when my mobile sounded and didn't even bother to read the text once I read it was from Mr Keilty.

Instead, I slipped unnoticed through the side door into the garage and was sat astride the Harley, wet, ready and naked from the waist down before Mr Keilty even entered the room.

I was enjoying the smell of his wife's cunt on my fingers even as he bought me to a rare and shuddering orgasm.