Lola, The Dirty Little Maid

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“Lola, The Dirty Little Maid”

by J.D. Savanyu

My fancy oceanfront house was becoming a pig sty, so I picked up the phone and hired a maid. They said her name would be Lola Robida, so I assumed she would be a frumpy Hispanic mujer… but she turned out to be a bombshell from France, with shiny white skin and a thick continental accent. I’ve often fantasized about genuine French maids while jerking off, but your odds of meeting one in America in the twenty-first century are about one in a fucking billion.

Her name is Lola, and she looks like a showgirl. I want to fuck her like a hooker in the Paris Red Light District. On a beautiful summer afternoon, I work up the courage to make a move. I go out to a pool deck overlooking the ocean, and sit near an artificial waterfall cascading down artificial rocks. I smile at Lola through a picture window as she polishes a $10,000 credenza. I give her a “come hither” finger wag, and she steps out to the pool deck with a naughty grin. I wish maids would wear those old sexy black dresses with white lace and matching caps, instead of these bland masculine corporate uniforms. Damn those feminist bitches, ruining all our fun.

“Is a beautiful day, Mister Savage,” Lola beams.

“Not as beautiful as you, Mademoiselle Robida.”

She giggles and tosses her shiny chestnut hair. This French lady has ‘skank’ written all over her. I bet she opened her legs for Jean-Claude Aubel, a bisexual fashion mogul, when she was a housekeeper at his mansion in “Gay Par-eee.” He probably fucked her in the asshole, hard and fast, while picturing one of his queer boyfriends.

“I like you too, Mister Savage,” she utters sweetly.

“You remind me of my Sally, my ex-wife. A sweet woman-child.”

She grins wider. “Want me to sit on your lap, like sweet little girl?”

Damn, this is too easy.

“Sure. Make yourself comfortable, Lolita. I mean, Lola.”

She giggles girlishly and straddles my lap, draping her arms loosely around my shoulders.

“I feel like naughty girl today. Do you want to play with my chatte?”

“Uh…” My dick starts rising.

“Do you know what chatte means?”


“Good boy, learning your français lesson! You earn big reward. You can fuck my pussy-cat, in your master chambre.”

“Fuck the bedroom. I want to fuck you right here in the sunshine, and the salty breeze.”

She giggles louder. “Crazy rich pervert, just like Jean-Claude.”

She kisses me passionately, while seagulls squawk overhead. A typical French dame, insisting on foreplay.

“All right, that’s enough tongue wrestling. Take off everything except your izmit seks hikayeleri bra.”

She obeys my order promptly, removing her blue maid uniform and her black French-cut panties. A nice hairy European crotch. The way every crotch should be. She gives me a curious look as I get butt-naked on the concrete pool deck.

“You no like my big titties?”

“I love your big titties, but I’m saving them for tomorrow. Give me something to look forward to.”

“Oui oui, I will show mes seins tomorrow, titty-fuck you so good.” She drops to her knees and performs fellatio with reckless abandon. Going down on me like Marie Antoinette on a vanilla creampuff.

“Let them eat cake,” I utter stupidly. Lola laughs with a mouthful.

“What if your neighbors call cops?”

“Don’t worry, mon cheri. My neighbors are also fucking one-percenter perverts.”

She laughs again, and shoves my schlong back in her mouth.

“Now I will treat you like Jean-Claude.” She goes to a nearby mini-fridge and takes out a $500 bottle of Armand de Brignac champagne. She opens it with a corkscrew, fills a cocktail glass, and takes it back to my chair.

“This is how we give blowjobs en france.”

She sprinkles it right on the tip of my penis. A sweet sting on a sensitive spot. She sucks it off with enthusiasm.

“God damn. I want some french fries with that chili dog.”

She giggles with a mouthful, then splashes more champagne down there. My mind drifts back to a Filipino slut who deep-throated me on a toilet in the Yale Business School. Until now, she was the only foreign lady in my Little Black Book.

“I want to lick your french creampuff.”

She’s utterly confused. “I am good at cleaning, not cooking.”

“You’re not good at euphemisms either. I want to lick that overpriced champagne off your chatte, and eat your fucking clit.”

She giggles yet again. “Oui, oui, leche ma chatte.” She sits on a lounge chair and spreads her legs. “My English getting better, but I get in trouble much. I am class clown.”

“You’re also a fucking skank, so I’m sending you to the principal’s office.”

I spank her ass with authority.

“Spank me hard, oui! I bad slutty fille!”

I spank her square on the rump a dozen times, getting a fix of alpha male dominance. I pour champagne on her cunt and lick it off, repeating the process five times.

“Oh mon dieu! Tu es tellement putain de bon! You are so fucking good, Monsieur Savage!”

She assumes the position for doggy-style, spanking herself for good measure.

“Please fuck me now, so hard please.”

“Not yet. Let’s go for a little swim first.”

“Oh joy, oui oui! I love to swimming dans un piscine!” She bolts off the chair and prances in the nude toward our cement pond, with Armand de Brignac trickling down her legs. She goes off the deep end, figuratively and literally.

“What is it you Americans say… last person to enter eats bad eggs?”

“Last one in is a rotten egg.”

I do a cannonball, splashing her face and making her giggle all over again.

“You’re the rotten one, bitch.”

We engage in aquatic horseplay, like a bunch of teenagers at Camp Wawanakwa. I trap her in the southeast corner, near the waterfall. I squeeze her tits hard underwater through her black bra, making her squeal.

“Oh fuck, oui! I love men with a brassière fetish.” She grabs my cock hard underwater and strokes it slowly. “Keeping brassière on for sex makes me feel tres classe, like old movie star.”

“You’re classe on the outside, but declasse on the inside.”

She frowns slightly. “Shut up and pound my pussy-cat.”

“With pleasure.”

I shove my dick up there and fuck her as hard as the water resistance will allow.

“Oh mon dieu, oui oui! Keep fucking mon trou si bon! Treat me so rough, like une prostituée!”

“That’s right, you’re a fucking high-class hooker.”

I wrap my hands gently around her neck.

“Oh fuck, I love you choking me like fuck slave. Tu es tellement fou!

Donc tres chaud! Je t’aime putain depuis que je t’ai rencontré!”

“English, bitch!”

“Fuck English! I just want to slurp your cum!”

“You’ll get my money shot after I get my money’s worth, you fucking whore.”

I wrap my legs around her ass, tilt my torso back at a ninety degree angle, and fuck her in a position that’s impossible on dry land. Gazing up at a pure blue sky while hearing her moan and groan and curse in a foreign language.

“Let’s take this show down below.” I pull her underwater and fuck her in various gravity-defying positions, like an X-rated aquaphile Cirque du Soleil. Then I drag her over to the steps in the shallow end.

“I’m gonna pound you like a poodle.”

“Ah yes, a pretty poodle! Un joli caniche!” She grabs the stainless steel railing with both hands, and wiggles her ass with a darling smile. “Arf, arf, arf! Pound my doggy-pussy!”

I fuck her brutally while spanking her medieval, turning her ass a bright crimson.

“A hooker who cleans your house. That’s a great two-for-one deal.”

Her loud moaning blends awkwardly with the seagulls.

“I bet Jean-Claude Aubel fucked in you in the asshole.”

“Oui! Mon dieu, he screw me in ass so good. I want your big prick in my tight con!”

“Fuck that queer shit. I’m setting you straight.”

I keep right on hammering her honey-hole. A minute later, I pull out and sit down on the first step, with an inch of water covering my ballsack.

“Ride me, cowgirl. Like John Wayne’s daughter.”

“John Wayne? That cowboy too old to be father of me. Dick too soft for Viagra.”

I snarl at her smart-ass remark. “Shut the fuck up, and fuck the shit out of me.”

“Yes sir,” she giggles. “I will blaze your saddle.”

She grabs my shoulders, mounts my trusty steed, and rides it like Seabiscuit by the sea. Literally bouncing off my watery hips in a shiny white blur. The splashing sound drives me insane.

“Holy shit, you’re a good fucking maid!”

“You are good strong horse, huge fucking prick!”

“I wanna break your French pussy every fucking day.”

“I will mop floors every day with your fucking ass!”

I spank her even more. “I’m almost there, Lola-girl. Keep bouncing like a Red Light whore.”

“I want your sperme in my mouth!”

“With pleasure. Let’s have a milkshake on the beach.”

She giggles and dismounts my steed. “Oh joy, I love milk-a-shakes. What flavor?”

“French vanilla, with whipped cum.”

I lead her down a wooden stairway and onto a private beach. I stop at the very edge of the ocean, with tiny waves hitting my toes. She kicks her feet playfully in the salty water.

“Down on your knees, bitch!”

I jerk off with more enthusiasm than ever. I’m pretty damn lucky to be a billionaire, and Lola was pretty damn lucky to get assigned to 134 Dolphin Drive.

“Oh god, this is a fucking big one!”

I tilt my head toward the blue sky, and literally explode.


The best orgasm I ever had, bar none. Lola’s face is completely drenched, and her tits took quite a bit of collateral damage; white on black. I stagger euphorically on the wet sand while she fingers all that jizz into her mouth. She gargles it loudly, then blows plenty of cum bubbles, until they’re more spit than splooge. She opens her mouth wide and lets the frothy mess ooze all the way down to her pussy.

“Damn, girl. You’re a nasty French prostituée!”

Lola giggles yet again, as the foamy semen mixes with the foamy ocean.

“Très bien, Monseiur Savage!” Lola beams. “Vous êtes un amant très talentueux.”

“I have no idea what you just said… but I want you to quit your job and move in to my house, so I can bang you 24/7.”

“Oui, oui. I will move in, be your dirty little maid every day, play house after I clean house.”

I smile at the seagulls, thanking god for making us both crazy.

“Lola, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful ménage à deux.”

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