Princess and the Chocolate Factory

"Oh, good, you came to bed," my wife giggled dreamily. "Hey, what are you do—ohhh..."

I tongued her until she grabbed my head and lost herself.

Lucille has an uncanny sense of smell, but I had to bet even she couldn't distinguish the bouquet of twenty-year-old slut from one with a thirty-seven year vintage. Not when they're mixed together on my face.

So I had covered my tracks. Or Veruca's tracks. So to speak.

11. Arabian Afternoons

By far the most dangerous moment, though, was when I came home from a golf outing on Sunday to find a note on the kitchen table: Lucille had taken the kids to the movies and would be home in a couple of hours. I headed upstairs to the shower to wash off the sweat from the back nine.

A half-hour later, poised in front of the mirror with a "17-microblade" Gillette and some Barbasol, I heard the squeaking of the mattress springs and wandered out of the bathroom to greet my wife's return... only to find something else entirely.

Sprawled across the bed, in diaphanous aqua harem pajamas which went significantly beyond translucent, was Veruca. She propped her head against her hand, on one elbow, with one knee raised in an inverse-V and the other leg extended. A classic pinup pose, and the sunlight of the room made it painfully obvious that the thin veil of her outfit was not supplemented by anything underneath. Her light patch of pubic hair was as obvious as her golden-bangle nipple piercings through the material, and she was stroking herself almost absently through the fabric while she awaited my arrival.

I still had the shaving cream can and the razor in my hands when I stopped, dumb, and stared her down. Or stared her up and down, which was likely more accurate.

"Oh, no," she drawled, "don't shave the beard. It's so... twisted." So she had been listening in on our post-coital discussion that night; this couldn't be coincidence. "And it feels so good right here." She clamped her thighs shut around her fingers and began to squeeze.

Don't remind me, I thought, trying unsuccessfully to forget the Rapunzel night. "Listen, Ver—Viveka, we need to talk."

"Talking is bullshit. We need to fuck."

Oh, God, did we. But not each other. Dammit. "I'm married."

"I'm not." Logic.

"Yes, well... my marriage matters to me. More than a quick blow job from an extremely hot—from a very treasured member of the family." Jesus, Charles, encourage her much?

"She'll never know."

"I'll know." I was entranced by the motions of her hands on her pussy, which were making a smeary mess of the pajama bottoms. "Look, could you stop doing that? Just for a minute, so we can have this conversation? It's... distracting."

"No."

Sigh. "You're a lovely young lady," I started, knowing I was treading on a path already stomped all to hell, "but I'm just not interested."

"That's not true," she replied, staring at my towel. "I think you are very interested."

And the tent made a liar out of me. Betrayed by wraparound terrycloth. Fuck.

"Nevertheless," I continued, blithely ignoring her statement as only the obviously guilty can, "we can't, and won't. Now, if you'll kindly consent to fucking yourself in your own bed rather than mine..."

"I don't think so."

"Lucille will be home any minute."

"Then she can join us. I'm not choosy."

Ouch. You're not really a stud; she's just a nympho. Suddenly this was all a lot less of an ego boost. I knew I should have shaved yesterday.

"As flattering as that point is, I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist."

She grabbed a pillow and placed it under her loins, rubbing her tainted hands on the fabric and thrusting against it. I made a mental note to swap pillows with Lucille before bed tonight. Just for self-protection, of course; it wasn't like I was going to smell it while I masturbated or something. (Honest. Two or three times, at most.)

Nonetheless, she wasn't moving. I didn't have a lot of options here. No, dear, I didn't want her on our bed. She just showed up and wouldn't leave. Would you like custody of the kids 50/50, or do I only get them every other weekend? It was time for force.

She was medium-height but trim. I thought I could probably take her. I scooped her up and tried to put her over my shoulder like a recalcitrant three year-old, then gasped as I realized how light twenty year-olds weren't. The attempt didn't succeed. I now had a hundred and some-odd pounds of squirming girl in my arms, but I couldn't get her off the bed without causing myself a hernia or a slipped disc or whatever it was chiropractors were paid to fix with their hoodoo magic. "Come... on, now. I don't want to... have to... get rough about this."

"I do!" She had stopped using her hands on herself and was now using my hold on her to press her delightfully supple fleshy bits up against me rhythmically. I could feel the heated dampness on my side as she coiled her silk-covered legs around me. I made one final effort to stand up and by some kind of miracle I ended up unhurt on the bed while she finished the maneuver sprawled on the floor at my feet. As I panted I felt the light touch of her hands invading my towel and responded with, "Gahhhhhh!"

It was then that Lucille came home.

I heard the garage door opening and knew for certain I was done for. There was no way to get this Scandinavian harlot downstairs and across the kitchen and living room to her own bedroom in the amount of time it would take for my wife to get in and see the whole thing. Fine. Fuck her if she wanted to get caught in my bed. Maybe Lucille would take my concerns seriously, now. I couldn't move her, but I could move me.

I ran into the bathroom, locked the door, and hit the shower. My haste made it impossible to adjust the temperature before getting in, and I alternately scalded myself then scrunched my balls into tiny pea-sized orbs with the cold before finding my balance. By that time, Lucille was in the room. She didn't say anything, at first, just cleared her throat. Loudly.

"Honey, we have to talk."

"Oh?" I stopped the water, then tried my best to pretend to dry off with the completely saturated towel I had accidentally worn into the shower stall.

"I really don't think it would be appropriate for the kids to find this."

Oh, shit. Was she still on the bed? Or else what had that bitch left? Underwear? She hadn't been wearing any.

"Hmmmm...?" I walked into the room squeaky clean, and with absolutely no evidence of an erection whatsoever.

"They could make a real mess with the shaving cream, but it's the razor I'm most worried about. Seventeen microblades, after all."

Oh. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Lucille. That was very careless of me. I'll be much more careful next time."

"Mmmmmm... naked clean man!" She came closer and hugged me to her body, putting her nose in my neck and smelling me. Then she whistled the Irish Spring jingle. Before she had gotten to the wolf-whistle at the end, she had grasped my cock and was well on the way to undoing what the shower had accomplished. She kneeled in front of me and began to kiss my balls on her way up.

"Hey! Hey... uh, I have no real objection, but what about the kids?"

"We met Maya and her kids at the movies. We flipped a coin and she lost; ours went home with her. We can pick them up after dinner."

"And still you bitched at me about the razor."

"Hey, they could have been home. Where's Viveka?"

God only knew. Please ignore the pulse of my cock as you bring her up. "She's... around, I guess. Didn't you see her when you came in?"

"Nope. Hold on. Let me get this top off."

"Shouldn't we close the door?"

"Nah. She's seen us fucking before, right?"

"Lucille!"

She didn't bother to try answering, as I was tonsils-deep in her mouth at that time. She looked up at me and winked as she imitated fucking motions with her head and neck. I was standing in the doorway of the bathroom and my wife was facing away from the bedroom, which was why she didn't see Veruca slither out from under the bed skirt and come to her feet. My eyes widened, I'm sure, which probably just made Lucille think she was doing a really good job (which, in fairness, she was). The crazy chick just leaned against the bed and watched my wife give me head, and when she started playing with her nipple-rings through the fabric I went over the edge of deliciousness and started fucking Lucille's throat in earnest. She swallowed everything I offered, and the nanny licked her lips while she watched me come, then turned her ass to me and slunk away out of the room while I recovered and Lucille stripped off the rest of her outfit.

Or most of it anyway. "Hey, you didn't tell me you were wearing stockings under that schoolmarm dress!"

"Schoolmarm? It's conservative, but hardly that bad."

"My grandmother had one just like it."

"I bet she wore panties under it, though."

"Why, Granny, what nice thighs you have."

"The better for you to eat me with, my dear."

"Sounds delightful. Here, let me move that pillow out of your way. Put it over on my side of the bed."

12. The Princess and the Chocolate Factory

So she'd escaped again. Or I had. I had trouble keeping track. I still didn't know what the hell I was going to do. It was only by the grace of Jesus, God, and Baby Jesus that I hadn't been caught and wrongfully accused already. I started researching nymphomania, then new au pair services, then got sidetracked back on nymphos again... then there were sites which covered both search terms that I probably shouldn't click on at work. Avoid even the appearance... I'm not sure what any of it got me except alternately aroused and terrified. Lucille was headed to her mother's for the weekend, taking the kids, and despite my recommendation to take Viveka with her "to help mind the children, and to let her see Indiana", she'd claimed airfare costs were too high to justify dragging another person along. I knew there was going to be hell to pay to either Snow White or Jasmine or possibly even Poca-fucking-hontas. Monday was a public holiday, too, so most of my friends from work were taking the long weekend out of town.

Alone. With nanny-slut. I dreaded it, but only because, being honest with myself, I knew that my patience and stamina had run out. No matter how many shopping trips or hikes I went on, I would come home to sleep, that the au(ful) pair was going to end up in my bed, and I wasn't going to stop her. There was only so much a man could take. I figured I should just raise the white flag and buy condoms.

I headed home that Tuesday somewhat in a funk. If the guys at work knew I was bummed because I would likely be banging a twenty-year old Scandinavian blonde this weekend, they would have immediately revoked my Man Card. "First World problems," they'd say. Fuck them.

The kids were at gymnastics and cheer practice, I recalled, so it would be a late dinner tonight.

"Honey, I'm home. I— my God!"

Generally speaking, I went straight from the garage to the bedroom after I got home from work. This allowed me to change clothes and to greet my wife, who was often in her sewing room constructing some new outfits for the kids. Today, as I entered the bedroom, the thick aroma of sex hit me like a wall.

"You've won!"

"What the hell are you talking about, Lucille?" And why the fuck is the nanny's head between your legs?

I was too stunned to say anything more as I examined the tableau laid out before me. The blonde was in her Beauty and the Beast dress and wig again, but this time it was hiked up to reveal the underlying blue satiny girdle and the black seamed stocking tops attached to it with metal clasps and six wide straps. She was on her knees pleasuring my wife, who was seated naked on the love seat, cradling the girl's head into her lap with both hands in a manner I was accustomed to feeling for myself rather than seeing from afar. Lucille looked aroused and thrilled, though her eyes were glazed a little in distraction as she tried to continue our chat. The au pair's renewed head motions implied the source of the distraction, and her own hands busily running up the open bottom of the girdle implied that Lucille wasn't the only one getting off on this.

"You get the Chocolate Factory! The whole shebang! With Oompa Loompas and glass elevators and garter-belts and stuff!" My wife thrust up into Ver— Viv— oh, hell... Veruca's mouth.

"Lucille!"

"You've been such a good boy, Charlie, in resisting temptation that you get to have everything. My gift to you... wait a second... I need to come on her face again... grrrrrrrr... ugh... mmmmm..." My wife's fuck-noises degenerated into giggling as the au pair's mouth cleaned her up. "As I was saying before I was so wonderfully interrupted, I've been impressed! You've managed to resist everything I got her to throw at you!"

"You got her to...?"

"Well, every woman wants to know how faithful her husband really is, or would be under the worst possible circumstances. So I created some. And you weren't naughty! Not once. And I got some great sex out of the deal. You were soooooo forceful after she'd tease you, it drove me crazy. Sometimes I'd make her clean me out afterward, when you went to work, 'cause even after you finished me I was still incredibly horny."

"This was all a test to see if I could be faithful?!"

"Now you're getting it. Veruca, dear, I don't need you to eat me out any more for a while, okay? You can go do the kids' laundry, instead." The nanny got up, hiked her skirt back down, and left the room, giving me a glazed but somehow still coquettish look as she passed. "Wow. Fine piece of ass, isn't she? Tongue like you wouldn't believe."

"I notice the possibility of you being faithful was untested."

"What? Oh, with her? Ha!" She slithered off the bed and grabbed me by the cock through my slacks. "I don't think, judging by this, that you'd want me to be faithful if it meant missing out on hot lesbian sex with our au pair, now, would you?"

"That's... er... beside the point."

"Uh huh. Let me see if I can spot the point."

I paused her hand before it could undo my zipper. "Wait a minute. So you somehow got her to tease me to the point of insanity—"

"Hypnosis."

"What?"

"That's how I got her to tease you. Remember the massages I was giving her when she had that skiing injury?"

"Yeah."

"I took the opportunity to hypnotize her and got her to dress in naughty princess outfits for you. I've watched Maya do it a million times. Clever, no?"

"Maya dresses in naughty princess outfits?"

"No, you idiot, she hypnotizes people. As part of her practice. It's not that difficult, it just involves patience. At first I just relaxed Swedish chickie, but eventually it worked and she went under."

This was too much to take in all at once, and I was momentarily speechless. I tried to trace the conversation back to before it had deviated from sanity and couldn't find a good spot. Perhaps if I went back to, "Honey, I'm home..." I gave up and went with, "All right. She teased me, I resisted... I 'won'. What the hell exactly did I win? Aside from being able to keep my balls and not be divorced?"

She started the unzipping again as soon as she heard me say "balls", and rapidly enough had my stiff cock in her hands, gently stroking it up and down. "Oh, but don't you understand? You get everything!"

"What the hell does that even mean?"

"You get me, and her! Whenever you want!"

"Wha— Hey, stop doing that if you want me to be coherent during this conversation. It's very distracting."

"I don't care. It's mine."

"Yeah, well, you still got some 'splaining to do. What do you mean 'you and her'? I can have sex with both of you?"

"Well, me first. And last. And several times in between... and right now, actually. Sit down. Mmmmm... I like that... but yeah, whenever you want. Although I insist she eats my pussy while you're fucking her. It's only fair. And I made her like it. A lot. She practices on Kendra."

"I am skeptical of the ethics of this arrangement."

"Fuck it."

"Er... okay. Doesn't this situation contradict the whole 'not being unfaithful' concept?"

"Mmmmmm... no, that was just to see how much you loved me... I don't mind you fucking the nanny as long as I'm first on the list, and she's under my control. Our control. And as long as I'm still the real princess. And get to fuck her mouth, too."

"I think that is the sickest, most fucked-up thing I've ever heard."

"Says the guy who wants to bone Ariel and Jasmine."

"No, this is worse. More fucked up."

"Then why are you... aaaugh... pounding me so hard with that cock of yours?"

"I didn't say I wasn't fucked-up, too. I just never suspected you were."

"Didn't you ever suspect me of wanting to have hot lesbo sex with the hired help? Ow, omigod! Ow. Ohhhhh... do that again!"

"Never. To the uh... suspicions, not to the doing that again...."

"Oh God, I'm gonna come."

"Good, because there's no way I can stop now."

"Oh, fuck me, Charlie. Fuck your wife and think of all the fun we're going to have doing the nanny nasty."

Charles had better manners than to refuse to oblige a princess.