The Houseboy

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If I had been told on my sixteenth birthday, that I would end up working as a houseboy, I would’ve advised the forecaster of that statement to sign up for some psychological evaluation. That, however, is exactly what happened by the time I had turned seventeen-years-old.To fully explain how this came about, I am afraid that I now have to embark on a two-part history lesson:Firstly, after my mother had left my dad and me when I was eight-years-old, my father continued to be employed as a foreman on the various farms we lived on, as I was growing up. Although life was tough at times, thankfully we always had food to eat and a roof over our heads.With the unpredictability of nature, we always seemed to be on the move from one job to another. I adored my father and we got on very well. He was not a strict parent, but to be honest, I was always a very well-behaved kid who gave him very little reason to act in a heavy-handed manner.I was never a very good student and school was a real battle for me. At the age of sixteen, when I decided to leave school, my father did not try to dissuade me from my decision because school fees were a waste of money for him. Thereafter, I did manage to earn some money by getting odd jobs from the kind folks we encountered, particularly from the women in the various locations where dad was employed. These were menial tasks and mostly consisted of gardening work or household chores.Women were always drawn to me because of my angelic looks and timidity. As was often said to me; I was simply too pretty to be a boy, and I am sure the entire world knew I was gay before I had comprehensively formulated this concept.Strangely, I was never bullied because I always seemed to have one or other male or female protector, who served as my guardian angels.The second part of the background I need to explain, concerned Alexandre Naudé.When my dad was employed by Alexandre Naudé as his farm foreman, I shortly found myself in the service of his wife, as a houseboy.The main reason for this was that Mr. Naudé had a terrible reputation, as a horny individual who simply couldn’t keep his zipper closed. Over the preceding years, his wife had frequently caught him fucking the maids who worked for them.Oddly, this had not ended in divorce because Mrs. Naudé, or Tamara, as I was invited to call his wife, was a very pragmatic woman. Her husband was wealthy and she had no intention of disrupting her comfortable existence with an isvecbahis acrimonious separation. Both their sons were in the boarding school at an agricultural college, and her active social life with the ‘ladies who lunch’ in the region, gave her all the free time and mental stimulation she needed. The last thing she needed was her husband remarrying, and handing over all her benefits, and the anticipated inheritance of her sons, to some or other new money-grabbing bitch who might begin breeding another brood.Even though Mr. Naudé was a heavy drinker and started boozing at eleven in the morning, he was putty in his wife’s hands. His gruff persona was never targeted at his wife and he loved Tamara very much. She was after all, widely acclaimed as the most beautiful woman in the region; a fact that made him very proud.Although they had a reasonably normal sex life, Mr. Naudé simply couldn’t resist giving in to his predilection for rougher and base sex, and the meagre ‘gratuities’ he paid the maids for fucking them, sated this hunger.Her husband’s little indiscretions were not what worried her, but it was the universal knowledge that he did so that caused her embarrassment. Maids, after all, were prone to gossip. She was well aware that he had an enormous sex drive and apart from his imprudence, frequently masturbated while watching porn. Tamara also knew that her husband liked sex on the kinky side and that rebuffs on this score often frustrated him. She even blamed herself for her husband’s transgressions.When my dad and I, therefore arrived on the scene, Tamara had an epiphany. Aware that I needed a job she decided to train me as their houseboy, thereby negating her husband’s future extracurricular activities in their home.Because of my limited schooling, I was very keen to learn this new skill. Tamara proved to be an excellent instructor and in particular, really gave me a brilliant grounding in the kitchen. I had always cleaned house and cooked for my dad and me, but now I was receiving a masterclass in culinary proficiencies. Naturally, my father also benefitted, because Tamara always generously supplied enough food for me to prepare meals, for my father and me as well.She insisted that I should take copious notes from her when preparing food, which I readily did, and in no time I was even amazing myself with the meals I was preparing.Fortunately, my household chores were made easy, because the Naudé’s had every modern isveçbahis giriş convenience one could need in their home; from the state of the art ironing presses, garment steamers, and cleaning appliances.After two weeks, I was so well into my stride that Tamara could resume her normal social routine.As far as Mr. Naudé was concerned, after attending to all his daily chores he would return to the house by eleven and sit in the lounge watching television as he commenced sipping on his beers. He was always shirtless and shoeless as he did so, only wearing a pair of shorts.I have to say that he was a good-looking man and I soon began to fantasize about him as a DILF. He was masculine, stocky, and had an ample beer belly. I even found his outie belly button rather sexy and I was captivated by his large hands and broad feet.Mr. Naudé initially had a very officious manner toward me, which he always maintained when his wife was around. He also loved the fact that I referred to him as ‘Sir.’Once, however, Tamara resumed her normal social whirl and when Mr. Naudé and I were alone, that formal attitude began to soften more and more.One morning, shortly after Tamara had left the house for a lunch engagement, the doorbell rang. Upon opening the door a young woman asked if she could speak to Mr. Naudé. After he got to the front door he gruffly asked her what she wanted. She immediately began to mumble about some money she said he still owed her. In an instant, he gripped hold of her arm and frogmarched her towards his bedroom.“If you want that money you have to fuckin’ finish the job you didn’t complete, the day my wife threw you out,” he loudly berated her, as they were en-route to the bedroom.As I listened I could hear her protesting to the sounds of slaps. Unable to resist, I ambled toward the bedroom door which he had not closed. Peeping in, I saw the back of his body with his shorts down and around his ankles as he roughly skull-fucked her face. Not long after, he pulled her up by her hair and after turning her body, threw her down on the bed. Her contrived sounds of sexual distress were overpowered by his masterful grunts of supremacy.Next, He then pulled her panties down forcefully before lowering his heavy body onto her small frame. Anchoring his body on his outstretched right arm, his left hand agitatedly sought out her avaricious portal. Once his knob entered her, his left hand quickly commenced slapping her face. Her isveçbahis yeni giriş gasps were drowned by his dictatorial roars of authority.Not long after, his outstretched left arm now further anchored his upper body next to her shoulder, before a full out attack on her pussy began.As I watched his ample butt flexing and twitching, supported on his beefy thighs and bulbous calves, I popped the hardest boner of my life. I was completely enthralled by his roughness and found it intoxicatingly sexy.Watching wistfully, I pondered what it would be like to be jackhammered mercilessly by an alpha like him as my lust began to reach a fever pitch.His climax was mindboggling as he snorted like a hungry boar at a trough.After lifting off her he reached for his pants and extracted money from the pocket, before contemptuously slinging the cash at her.“Now, fuck off, and don’t come back… You fuckin’ slut,” he barked.At this point, I quickly returned to the living room area and after they emerged, she quickly made her way to the door with a huge smile on her face before getting on her way.After slumping into his chair in the lounge, he looked at me and said, “What you just saw didn’t happen. Are we clear on that, boy?”“Yes, sir,” I answered.As he sat there sipping on a beer and rubbing his beer gut, he had a smug look on his face.I simply continued with my work and occasionally glanced at him. All the while I could feel carnal lust searing through my arteries. Much as my excitement grew, however, I continued reminding myself that he was straight, and therefore, my fantasy was merely a pipedream.An hour or so later, he arose and moved through to his study without closing the door behind him. Shortly after, I heard sexual sounds emanating from his computer and I could hear that he was watching porn. My heart almost stopped when I suddenly heard, “Bring me a fuckin’ beer, Ivor.”Upon entering the study my heart almost stopped as I saw him sitting wide-legged and naked on his office chair, toying with his dick. I quickly placed the bottle on the desk and instantly turned to leave.“Who fuckin’ told you, you could leave, boy?” he asked in an annoyed tone. “You need to learn some manners, boy,” he concluded, as I sheepishly turned to face him.Mr. Naudé now really began to fondle his dick and balls as he glared at me. With his hand firmly around his cock, his thumb commenced caressing the tip of his moist uncut knob. The intensity of his gaze made me excitedly uncomfortable. After a lengthy fondle, as his thumb continued to move over the head of his dick it occasionally popped in and out of his foreskin. Finally, he lifted his hand to his nostrils and gave it a good all over sniff.

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