Intruder Ch. 05

(Thanks to everyone for all the comments and suggestions so far. This is the first part of a mini arc within the series, I hope you enjoy it!)

*

The three storey mansion before me was the very image of Beverly Hills wealth; white plastered walls, marble pillars, a well kept garden in the front, and a party pool in the back. There were two cars in the open garage: a Porsche 911 convertible and an SUV. To a prospective car thief, they looked ready for the taking. Such a would-be thief, however, would have to contend with the 3 metre high fence surrounding the property, the wrought iron gates that blocked entrance to the winding driveway, and the suite of security cameras scattered around the perimeter. There was probably a state-of-the-art alarm system inside as well. This house would be a serious challenge to break into, which was partly why I had chosen it for my next 'project'. Many people call me different things depending on which identity I happen to have assumed. At least one person calls me 'sir'. You know me as the 'intruder'.

The name on the deed to this particular house was Katrina Ziegler, née Cuomo, a 44 year old divorcee who got to keep the big house when her husband left her for a younger model. Browsing through her digitised medical history, graciously provided by the woefully inadequate firewall around her local health clinic's database, I could see that she had had cosmetic surgery done on her breasts and her labia in the past few years. She had also been treated for an eating disorder and been referred to a physical therapy clinic as part of her treatment. Most people understandably prefer 'all-natural' women, but to me, yoga plus boob job spells MILF, to put it somewhat crudely. Unfortunately, medical records don't come with photo galleries; I needed to see her in the flesh before I fucked her. When I finally got into the house, it wasn't through the window, or a secret entrance, it was through the front door.

"You're on time, at least." Katrina said, in an unappreciative New York drawl, "this way."

I followed Katrina through the magnificent house, admiring her shapely legs and even more shapely hips and ass, accentuated by her tight jeans rolled up above the ankles. The strutting gait she had in those 3 inch high heels of hers made her look sexier still.

We passed through a lavishly equipped kitchen, through a sliding glass door, and into the back garden. Even in the middle of September the glorious California sun smiled down from a cloudless sky. The swimming pool had an elliptical shape and wasn't more than five feet deep, it was a party pool after all. Katrina turned to me, giving me a full, frontal view of her surgically enhanced bust, her guitar-like model's figure, and her flowing dark hair and Mediterranean features. She tossed me a key without warning, and I caught it against my chest.

"All the stuff you need is in the shed," she said flippantly, gesturing to a small shack on the other side of the pool, "help yourself to a beer in the kitchen if you're thirsty. I'll be back in an hour; you get your 300 bucks when it's done." With that, she strutted off. The pool was hardly Olympic sized, and would not take an hour to clean; even so, I needed the extra time.

I headed back into the kitchen and found the fuse box; not for the entire house, just for the kitchen. Removing the panel, I took out the perfectly functioning fuse and replaced it with a special, custom-made one. My work complete, I helped myself to a beer, and then got to work on the pool. I checked and replaced the filters, scooped out a couple of leaves that had floated onto the water, and in 15 minutes I was done. Katrina could have done this herself for free if she had been so inclined. My job done, I fetched another beer from the fridge and reclined in a deckchair in the shade, waiting for Ms Ziegler to return.

As I relaxed and enjoyed the California weather, I heard a muffled splash. Looking in the pool's direction, I saw two figures paddling aimlessly around, giggling and gossiping together. One of them was undoubtedly Zoë, Katrina's 18 year old daughter; I didn't know who the other one could be. The two girls splashed and laughed before one of them swam to my side of the pool and clambered out, walking straight across my field of vision.

I recognised her face as that of Zoë Ziegler. How she failed to notice me watching her from the shade was a mystery, but I certainly noticed her. I noticed her toned swimmer's body clad in a skimpy, two-piece bathing suit. I noticed her brown hair with blond highlights tied into a small bun. Most of all, I noticed her jewelled belly piercing which twinkled in the sun.

My masculine urges surged to the fore when I saw her bejewelled stomach. Navel piercings turn me on almost as much as raping the women who get them done. The irrational urge to ambush this young lady and screw her senseless momentarily flooded my mind. I wanted to pounce on her and force her to the ground, then rip that slutty outfit off of her delicious body, force my cock into her barely legal teenage pussy, and make her scream as I rammed into her. I wanted to ravage her till she came and then ravage her until I came, deep inside her snatch.

Snapping back to reality, I removed my hand from my groin and tried to covertly rearrange my shorts in such a way as to conceal the great tent that had appeared. Thankful for Zoë's apparent obliviousness to my presence, I mentally added her to my list of targets. By the time I was finished, mother and daughter would both be expecting.

Zoë reappeared with an inflated swimming pool lounger big enough for two, and tossed it onto the water before re-entering the pool. Both girls clambered onto the pool lounger and lay down together, idly paddling the water until they were spinning in lazy circles. I was starting to wonder how long it would take them to start playing with each other when the sliding door to the kitchen opened.

"I'm not paying you 300 bucks to laze about." Katrina snapped imperiously.

"No, you're paying me 300 bucks for a job that took me barely a half hour to finish," I answered in a calm riposte, perfectly mimicking an American accent.

"You're done already?"

"Yeah," I passed the time it was taking Katrina to grasp this simple concept by admiring the new outfit she had on. She now sported running shoes, a pair of skin-tight, Capri jogging pants, and a hefty sports bra keeping her surgically enhanced bust in check. This left her entire toned, tanned midriff exposed, making her look at least 15 years younger. Sadly, she didn't have a belly piercing, which would really have put the cherry on the cake.

"Oh," Katrina said, her moody expression softening somewhat, "you were actually on time, AND you got the job done fifty times faster than the last guy. Can you believe that lazy son-of-a-bitch called me up this morning saying he was too sick to come in today? I mean what the fuck kinda bullshit does he think he's playing at?!"

I felt, but did not show, some sympathy for poor Hernando. That kind of 'bullshit' usually happens when your food is spiked with a liquid emetic drug and an extra powerful laxative. My predecessor would be indisposed for several days until he recovered from what closely resembled a serious case of food poisoning. I did spare the guy a guilty thought for poisoning him and stealing his job, but sacrifices had to be made.

"Anyway, I told that piece of shit he was fired, of course," Katrina pouted indignantly, unconsciously shifting into a model's pose, "Here. I've got your cash inside." Her imperious rant over, Lady Ziegler strutted back into the kitchen.

I followed her inside and quite deliberately switched on the kitchen lights. They flashed for an instant before a loud crack was heard and the fuse box door blew open with a puff of smoke. Katrina was incensed.

"What the fuck just happened?!" She demanded angrily to no one in particular. I marched confidently over to the fuse box, waving the smoke away, and made a big show of inspecting the switches. Using the hem of my shirt, I gingerly removed the defective fuse from the socket and presented it to Katrina.

"Blown fuse," I announced.

"What do you mean a 'blown fuse'?" Katrina demanded, as if such inconveniences never befell the rich and privileged.

"When did you last have these replaced?" I asked her, though I already knew the answer.

"I don't know," she responded, "a few years ago, maybe." It had been 18 months.

"Fuses get worn down every time juice flows through them," I expounded confidently, "eventually they just blow."

"Great," Katrina exclaimed, visibly pissed, "now I have to shell out ten grand to some electric company just to fix a bunch of lights."

"I could do that for you," I offered helpfully, Katrina's frustration softened into incredulous curiosity.

"You'd do that?"

"For a price," I added, "but yeah, I could come in tomorrow with some new fuses and replace them for you. It'd be a lot cheaper than paying a company to do it." Katrina's brow furrowed in thought, mulling over my offer.

"Deal," she announced, "be here at ten tomorrow, and I'll pay you a thousand bucks to replace every fuse in the house."

"Tomorrow at ten," I replied in agreement. At that moment, Zoë and her friend returned from the pool wearing towels.

"Mom, can Maria sleepover tonight?" Zoë asked in a whiny princess voice.

"Sure, honey." Katrina said, obviously not interested.

"What happened to the lights?" asked Maria, flipping the switch on and off to no avail.

"Fucking fuse just blew," Katrina answered, "luckily; handy he-man over here has offered to replace them." As Katrina pointed me out, both girls turned in my direction. Both their jaws dropped in teenage awe. I was still holding the melted fuse with my shirt, unintentionally giving all three women a generous view of my abdominal muscles.

"So how many fuse boxes do you have in the house?" I asked, carefully placing the blown fuse in the rubbish bin.

"Not a clue," Katrina shrugged, "just buy a hundred of them and I'll pay you back on top of the thousand bucks."

"Sounds good to me," I replied obligingly. Maria had gone around the counter and made a cup of fruit juice. Then she moved back towards the group and quite deliberately tripped over her own feet, spilling her drink over my shirt.

"Dios Mio, I'm so sorry!" Maria made a big show of apology, pretending to try and rub the stain out of my shirt when she was actually running her hands up and down my six pack. I in turn was given a generous look at her ample cleavage. Not quite as ample as Ms Ziegler's, but not too bad.

"Never mind," I said, moving the teenager away, "it's just a shirt." It was time to leave.

"So I'll see you tomorrow at ten?" I said to Katrina.

"Yeah yeah, ten o'clock." She replied, picking up a wad of cash and handing it to me, not the least bit concerned about my ruined shirt. I quickly counted the cash, and then showed myself out, but not before quietly stealing a spare house key for future use.

***

I returned to the house at ten o'clock sharp the next day. Katrina was already standing in the doorway in a skin-tight yoga outfit with a delicious camel-toe with Zoë who was wearing a white tube top and a pair of daisy dukes. The pair was evidently having a tense conversation, including a stern warning to Zoë about not ditching her community service to hang out with friends. I didn't catch any more context than that as the pair stopped as soon as I appeared.

Zoë promptly took off in her Porsche whilst Katrina led me inside the house. She told me that there were about fifty fuse boxes for various parts of the house, and I had all day to replace them. My instructions given, she drove off to yoga class in the SUV, leaving me wondering what it would be like to screw such a flexible MILF.

Once she was gone, I returned the stolen spare key to its box and set off on my bogus quest to replace a house full of perfectly good fuses. This was not an entirely pointless exercise, what I really wanted was to find the security room for the cameras and the alarm system. I started on the ground floor and worked my way up, replacing good fuses with brand new ones. One of the fuse boxes was inside what I presumed to be Zoë's room.

The room was dominated by a Queen sized double bed with ruffled sheets. Multiple sets of ornate drawers and wardrobes carved from oak lined the walls in addition to an enormous vanity mirror. In spite of the ample storage space, multiple piles of women's clothes were scattered across the floor. There was even a vibrator lying on the bed. I shook my head and began searching for the fuse box. I eventually found it behind one of the wardrobes and shifted the massive piece of furniture aside to gain access to the box.

"Who the fuck's there?" said a partially indignant, partially fearful teenage girl's voice. I emerged slowly from behind the wardrobe. The speaker was a teenage Hispanic girl dressed in bright pink, Victoria's Secret lingerie. I went instantly hard as I eyed her gorgeous curved physique and the gem dangling from a tiny chain pierced through her navel. She had light espresso coloured skin, curly brown hair which flowed past her shoulders, and a rack much fuller than one would expect for a teenager.

"Oh," Maria looked surprised, almost apologetic, "I thought I was alone."

"Ms Ziegler asked me to change round all the fuses," I explained, "I'll just be a minute."

"You're the new pool guy, no?" Maria asked me.

"That's right." I confirmed.

"Sorry about your shirt," she continued, starting to inch forward, "I would've gotten you a new one, but you ran off."

"Don't worry about it," I replied, getting to work on the fuse box, "it was just an accident." Suddenly, Maria was right beside me, giving me a sultry look with a pair of big dark eyes.

"Well, it wasn't TOTALLY by accident," she confessed, slipping a hand beneath my shirt and across my stomach, "I wanted to see some more of that hot body of yours." Her hand slipped down to my crotch and I quickly pulled away, but not before she had managed to get a feel of my sizeable erection.

"What's the matter?" she teased, "are you gay?"

"No," I replied, unsettled by this unexpected twist in the plan "you're just too young for me." Maria looked stung.

"I'm not a little girl," she countered, "I turned 18 like, two weeks ago." She picked up a driver's license and presented it to me. Sure enough, Maria J. Martinez had turned eighteen on September 3rd of this year. But as tempting as it was to fuck her, I would much prefer to take her in the night without her knowledge.

"Still too shy?" she taunted, still waiting for an answer. Clearly this little teenage tart didn't take no for an answer; then again, neither did I.

I grabbed her and threw her onto the bed as if she weighed nothing, which to me she practically did. She yelped in surprise at the sudden attack and her driver's license went sailing out of her hand as I gripped her panties in mine and ripped them clean off.

"Hey, careful!" she complained.

"You don't get to complain, my dear," I snarled dominantly, my American accent slipping, "you want my cock inside you, that's what you're going to get."

I yanked down my shorts and briefs, and deployed my prick. It felt as hard as a steel pole, and the sight of it made Maria gasp. Her pubic mound had been waxed to a smooth, bald finish, and her inner labia were already glistening with feminine moisture, ready to accept me into their depths. I lined up the throbbing, purple head of my cock with Maria's nether-lips, tormenting her for a good minute as I rubbed the head up and down her inner labia, making her wetter still. Maria whimpered softly, her body quivering in sexual anticipation. When she was wet enough, I rammed myself inside, eliciting a loud squeal from her in response, though whether in pain or delight I couldn't tell.

I started off at a faster pace than usual; being a teenager she couldn't be that difficult to get off. Her barely legal pussy was slick with pleasure, and I forced myself all the way up to her cervix, making her yelp with each stroke. Maria's love-canal was tight from youth, but she was certainly no virgin; what a surprise.

I gripped Maria's waist with both hands as I fucked her, increasing my tempo to a frenzied pace. Maria herself barely participated at first; her hands lay on either side of her head, and her beautiful tits, which appeared to be natural, bounced with each thrust. With each stroke, a squeak of sexual delight escaped Maria's lips, passively enduring the abuse my meat-rod was inflicting on her cunt; she was a natural submissive. My eyes remained focused on her slutty navel piercing. Women with belly piercings never fail to make me hard; it screams out to me "please rape me!" To me women who wore such sexy body jewellery were begging to be fucked; and if they screamed and cried and fought back, so much the better.

Maria, however, wasn't screaming or crying or fighting back, she was moaning. She was thoroughly enjoying being taken so vigorously. Her head was shaking about in the throes of teenage lust, her legs had drifted up into the air in a reflexive female attempt to get me as deep inside her as possible, and her hands had now disappeared beneath her bra in order to pleasure her nipples.

Suddenly, Maria cried out in ecstasy, and I felt her cunt muscles clamp down on my thrusting manhood in reflexive response. She whipped her hands round my neck and pulled herself up towards me in a vaguely tantric position. I continued to fuck her as she squealed, horny as a champion bull but still not enough to cum yet. Even as I had yet to reach my peak, Maria came off hers and released her grip on my neck, flopping back down onto the bed as I continued to fuck her. A sudden realisation apparently struck Maria.

"Pull out before you cum." She told me, a note of worry entering her voice.

"Why?" I said, rutting her teenage cunt with no intention of honouring her request.

"I'm not on the pill," she replied, breathless with sex, "and you don't have a condom on."

"Well that's a shame," I said, increasing my pace to a blinding fury, "because I'm not going to." By now Maria was about to fall off the precipice of a second climax, so her reaction to my refusal was not all that clear. She held onto my muscular arms for dear life as the bed rocked from our mating. Maria's moans became squeals of ecstasy once again as she dug her nails into the skin of my shoulders, clawing her way back into my arms; she was pretty easy to please.

Eventually, I felt my own pleasure begin to build. It started as a churning in my balls, which had been unused for over a fortnight as I staked this house out. The churning moved to my prostate and then I threw my head back and snarled, forcing my cock all the way up to the entrance of Maria's barely legal womb as the pleasure bloomed in my groin and surged along the length of my sizeable manhood.

I savoured the look of shock and ecstasy on Maria's face as my penis jerked and writhed inside her like an angry serpent, shooting my virile payload deep into her fertile pussy in one explosive jet after another. My climax mingled with Maria's just as my fluids mingled with hers, and she wrapped her arms and legs around my body, lifting herself clear off the bed, and holding me close as our combined orgasm overwhelmed her 18 year old senses.

I allowed her to fall back down to the bed whilst continuing to hold myself inside her. I grunted and sweated from the exertion whilst she hyperventilated with exhaustion like a newly deflowered virgin. The sex wasn't the most satisfying I'd ever had, but it wasn't everyday you got to plough a teenager, even if she was a trollop.

I slowly pulled out, causing a dollop of my spunk mixed with Maria's own juices to spill from her well fucked and fertile pussy, and pour down her ass crack. I climbed off the bed and got dressed again, deciding to finish with the fuse box and be gone before Maria recovered.