The Houseboy

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 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 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 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.

“Mmm, there is nothing like the smell of fresh pussy on a man’s dick,” he said with a meditative look on his face, before adding, “That’s if you like pussy,” he concluded pensively. Then after a snigger, he resolved, “Of course, some guys only prefer the smell of cock.”

I was so stunned that I couldn’t formulate a response.

With a mischievous look in his eyes, he then said, “Now go make me a sandwich and bring me another beer, Ivor.”

As I returned to the living area I felt deflated despite the incredibly exciting scene I had just witnessed. I had a strong feeling that Mr. Naudé was going to make me pay for his wife’s decision to employ me, by taunting and teasing me.

Twenty minutes later, when I took him his sandwich and beer he was calmly sitting in his chair with a softie. As I place the plate and beer on the table, I notice a small heap of sodden tissues lying on the desk table. As I asked if I may take my leave, he said, “Hold out your hand.”

 Mr. Naudé now picked up the wet tissues and pressed them into the palm of my hand. “Now throw that away for me and get back to your work, boy”

When I got back to the kitchen I excitedly smelled the sodden tissues, in a trance-like state, I inhaled the strong odour of his spunk before licking the paper and tasting his jizz.

‘Oh, fuck,’ I thought, ‘this man is going to drive me out of my mind.’   

Nothing more happened that afternoon, and the following Tamara did not leave the house at all.

For me, nonetheless, it was becoming more difficult by the minute as my yearning for Mr. Naudé now totally overwhelmed my being.

If only, I kept thinking to myself.

The following day, Tamara again had an all-afternoon engagement. Once she had left I began to fantasize about my next round of torture by Mr. Naudé, and fortunately, that didn’t take too long.

After he had moved to study and I again heard the sounds of the porn he was watching, he called out for me the deliver a beer to him. As I entered the study he was again sitting wide-legged and naked on his office chair, facing me. His right hand was once more toying with his dick as it had done two days before, but now his left index finger was stroking the large outie on his ample beer gut. Unlike before, however, there was an unmistakable look of lust emanating from his eyes.

‘Dear, Jesus,’ I excited thought, ‘Am I about to get lucky?’

After I place the beer on the table, he began to speak. “Ivor, I was annoyed when my wife employed you, but I have to say, that so far you are doing a great job.” Then, after a reflective pause, he continued, “But as you know, there is always room for improvement.”

“Please tell me what I need to do to improve my performance, sir?” I quickly retorted.

“Well, as you have heard and seen, I expect our maids to perform additional services,” he concluded.

Hoping like hell that I was reading the situation correctly, I coyly asked, “What can I do to go the extra mile, sir?”

“I’m not sure, because you are a boy, after all,” he answered, feigning bafflement.

‘Oh, Christ, is this part of a vindictive ploy that he has embarked upon?’ I anxiously pondered as I stood there like an idiot.

“Well… why don’t you remove your t-shirt, to begin with,” he disdainfully replied.

Awkwardly, I then did as he suggested.

As he scanned my torso, I was heartened by a continued look of lust in his eyes, hoping like hell that I would be rewarded by this man who had now become a total obsession in my life.

“Mmm… well, I have to admit that you are prettier than all the maids we have employed,” he stated, as his right hand now really began to fondle his crotch animatedly.

How I managed to restrain myself from not orally attacking his dick, I will never know. 

“Now take your shorts and underpants off, so I can see if I can overcome my queer aversion,” Mr. Naudé contemplatively proposed.

Although I had a huge boner at this point I was now beyond caring, and in a flash I was naked.

“Whoa, that the biggest clit I have ever seen,” he jokingly chuckled, before adding “Well, from you excitement we have now firmly established that you are a pussy-boy.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied in a timid voice, brimming with desperation.

“Well, pussy-boy, do you think you deserved a treat from daddy?” he growled.

“Yes, pleaaase, sir, please let me be your fuck-toy, pleaase,” I unabashedly pleaded like a child begging for a chocolate bar.

“Okay, kneel and place your hands behind your back, you cock-sucker,” he said, with a masterful roughness to his tone.

After Mr. Naudé stood up, his left hand firmly gripped hold of the hair on my head. With his right hand, he now commenced whipping my face with his fat hard knob.

“You fuckin’ little whore, I knew that this is what you have wanted all along. Now I’m going to show you what a slut like you deserves,” he barked, as he shoved his dick firmly into my mouth.

With his cock solidly lodged in my mouth, his free right hand now commenced slapping my face. As much as it stung, I had never enjoyed anything more in my life.  

Next, with both of his hands now firmly grasping hold of my head, my skull-fucking began in earnest. Soon, tears, snot, and drool had coated my face as he relentlessly hammered my mouth.

When he finally unloaded, I had to swallow for my life and almost choked on the deluge from his balls. Upon extracting his dick from my mouth he scooped all the slop of his dick and my face and rubbed it in my hair.

Mr. Naudé now commenced berating as he again slapped my face. “Your face looks disgusting, you fuckin’ cock sucking slut. Now get the fuck out of here and clean yourself up.”

As I rinsed my head, I had a sore throat and face, along with the biggest smile I had ever sported.

After returning to my work I could still hear the pornographic mumbles coming from his computer. This guy was insatiable.

Later, when I was summoned to deliver his next beer, as I placed it on his desk I saw a load of fresh jizz sprayed on his desk. Mr. Naudé then nonchalantly told me to lick it up before returning to my work. Henceforth, another of my constant duties would now become his spunk vacuum, as I was frequently summoned to suck up the deposits jizz off his desk.

After I entered his study to deliver yet another beer and to collect his lunchtime sandwich plate, Mr. Naudé retrieved a throw that he had on a small sofa in his study and draped it overhanging the footwell of his desk. Then after pushing his office chair to the side, he told me to strip. As I leaned over the desk I was very pleased about his forethought with the blanket. The comfort that afforded my abdomen, however, was soon negated by the severe spanking he administered to my backside. He was not holding back and struck my arse with intensity. Sore as it was, I yelped with unbridled pleasure as his customary verbal onslaught resounded in the room. I do not believe that a single expletive was omitted.

Next, after a solitary finger entered my backside, a second finger soon followed. That was then pursued by a third and finally fourth finger. As the palm of his right hand then commenced turning in a semi-circular, back and forth motion in my arse, I started whooping like a wailing waif. With his left hand still smacking my arse, I was particularly impressed by how effective the dispersion discomfort was. Regardless of the physics, I was having the time of my life.

With my backside well and truly primed, his anal incursion commenced. The verbal and physical ‘abuse’ from him as my butt-hole got pummelled was mesmerizing and rang every bell in my body. I, naturally, gave an Oscar-winning performance of distress, which added to his tempestuous carnal malevolence. My hips also received a serious bruising, as his powerful hands almost dug into my flesh as my body was hectically pulled onto his dick.

“You’re a fuckin’ bully and a bastard,” I yelped, as he manically thumped my butt.

My insolence was now rewarded with punishment, as his arms and hands alternated striking at my face like two pissed-off cobras. I was delirious with happiness and would have happily been ‘tied to the mast’ for a whipping at this point.

“Fuck you, fuck you,” I kept intoning to encourage his ‘brutality.’

Mr. Naudé now commenced pulling his dick out, before again spearing his cock into my arse as his grip intensified on my hips. When he finally ejaculated, he started banging his fists onto my back, almost winding me. It was fuckin’ awesome! Mr. Naudé’s invasion was so rigorous that before he eventually unloaded, the desk had moved forward by a yard or two.

As the final sprays of spunk entered my backside, he yanked me up by my hair and placed me in a headlock.

“Suck up my seed in your tight pussy you fuckin’ whore,” he growled in my ear, as he emptied the last of his ball juice into my arse.

After our encounter, Mr. Naudé spun me around and started kissing me. Of all the pleasures of the day, I have to admit, that was the crowning glory to a day of total delight.

Apart from honing my cooking skills, which according to the Naudé’s kept getting better and better, on the many days that Tamara was out and about, Mr. Naudé kept me extremely busy. Best of all, we began to develop a more holistic approach to our sexual encounters, as my penis appeared to offend him less and less.

More good news followed a few months later when Tamara announced that she and a handful of her buddies were going on a three-month cruise. She then apologetically appealed to me to move into the main house for the duration of her trip, so that I could keep an eye on her heavy-drinking husband while she was away, and make sure that he got to bed safely in the evenings.  

Naturally, being the thoughtful employee that I was, I simply had to agree.

During her absence, a bonus also materialized, when a large bearish friend of Mr. Naudé’s named Willie, frequently began visiting during the evenings.

That, however, is an entirely different story…