When you are out of work you will take any job and put up most things just to keep it. I do not like snobs, people who think they are a cut above everyone else and look down their noses at people they believe are of a lesser order than themselves. These people are usually shits, first class shits and the Chief Executive of the bank was typical of this kind of animal but he wanted a chauffeur and I wanted a job.
"I expect you to be at work on time, I want you there when I want you, when you are taking me anywhere make sure the car is spotlessly clean, inside and out. You always refer to me as Sir, there will be no familiarity. You always wear the uniform during working hours, keep it clean and smart and without exception you polish your shoes until you can see your face in them, have you any questions?"
"No Sir." Well as I said I needed the job.
Sir Alistair Mitchell, was used to being the boss, he expected people to jump when he entered a room and usually they did.
I would pick him up about 7.30am to drive him to the office. The one pleasure I got out of it was driving his Bentley, well apart from the other benefits and perks. I would park the Bentley in the underground car park and after making sure it remained spotlessly clean I would go into the little office, about as big as a broom cupboard, where there was a telephone, in case the boss wanted me, there was also a kettle so I could at least make myself a cup of tea.
Rogers was my name, never Stuart.
"Rogers, I need you to drive me to St. Albans, Rogers, bring the car around to the front entrance, Rogers, Rogers, Rogers. He never sat in the front seat, that would have been far beneath him and he might have felt obliged to talk to me.
Sometimes when he was going abroad I would drive him to Heathrow, help him with his baggage and once the plane had taken off I would drive back to the garage and until he got back I could do much as I liked, and I did. If I used the Bentley I would have to make sure I didn't over use the petrol but there was latitude. What he didn't know about was the fucking that took place on the backseat of his precious Bentley. Chloe, the young office assistant, lost her virginity on the backseat right where he would sit, issuing orders on his phone. Chloe was to be a constant supply of cunt for me, and believe me she had a little corker.
It was a wonder he never asked me what I was doing with a broad smirk on my face as he sat on the very spot where young Chloe's hymen had been popped. I think Chloe had told her friend, Kathleen, who was Mitchell's secretary, and whenever I had to pick up papers from the offices to deliver them somewhere, I always got a wry knowing smile from Kathleen. I tried, on a few occasions, to chat her up but to no avail. Kathleen was married, very attractive redhead, always smartly dressed, she was class. Not class in the Alistair Mitchell sense of the word, she was just class in every sense of the word. She dressed class; she looked class, she walked class, she had to be class to hold down a job as Mitchell's secretary. She had the loveliest tits, but not a hint of nipple through her blouse, the cheeks of her arse moved rhythmically in her tight, black skirt as she floated effortlessly around the offices and the clickety click of her high heels made all the male heads turn. The seam of her black stockings seemed to point the way to delights the very thought of which made me drool and have mouth-watering thoughts.
One thing I had going for me that Mitchell, with all his wealth and undoubted ability, will never have is the simple fact that women are attracted to me. Why I don't really know but they see something and I am not going to try to analyse it. I have never gone short of pussy and unlike lots of other men I don't do the chasing. That's what annoyed me about Kathleen, she wasn't interested in me and it made me want her all the more and I had to resist the impulse to chase her pussy, a sure way to make sure I never got it. She was a challenge no red-blooded male could resist.
Another of my duties was to drive the CEO and his family to their retreat, a log cabin hidden away in the woods and leafy glades of the Cotswolds. I had the keys and it was my job to go there a few days in advance and make sure it was clean and tidy, well stocked with food and wine and chopped-wood for the log fire. Sometimes, once the log fire was blazing, I would sit on the sofa and imagine I had Kathleen on the white sheepskin rug stretched in front of the hearth. As I visualized Kathleen with her knees wide apart I would unzip my fly and flip out my cock. It didn't take long to fill my handkerchief.
On such occasions I would return to pick up Mitchell and his wife, Janet, at their London home, in Bayswater and sometimes his daughter, Lucinda would come along when she wasn't at college. Janet seemed rather reserved, certainly in the presence of her husband, but Lucinda was a giggly, effervescent, fun-loving young woman about 19 years of age, but actually looked younger, they all referred to me as Rogers though. No change there. All three sat in the back as well.
When the Mitchell's went on a family holiday to Tuscany I talked Chloe into spending an evening at their house. We got in the Bentley and drove to the Bayswater mansion. We spent the night in the king-size marital bed, with her virginity long gone Chloe fucked like a veteran, totally uninhibited. Her long, flowing, blond hair spayed out over the soft, satin pillows, her legs stretched across the luxurious bedsheets while I drilled her for two solid hours. The little vixen had three orgasms for me -- absolutely lovely. The next day I took her to the nearest chemist shop for the morning-after pill before driving on to work, then returned to take the heavily soiled bedsheets to the laundrette and then replaced them on the bed. Chloe was a good girl.
While at the mansion I couldn't help taking a look around the house, before leaving. I stumbled across Lucinda's knicker-drawer and buried beneath a rich variety of thongs and panties of various colours I found two vibrators, no wonder she is an effervescent fun-loving young girl, probably too late to get her virginity, that flower will have been picked already I thought.
I drove Chloe back to work, parked the car and spent a few hours cleaning the Bentley then wondered into the offices. Kathleen gave me that all-knowing look, what had Chloe been saying?
"Where have you been all day?" She asked.
"I think you already know the answer to that." I replied. She laughed.
"It could be you, you know, all you have to do is loosen up a little." I continued half laughing, half serious.
"You wish."
"I certainly do, you'll never know how I wish."
"Oh, I can imagine."
"You should know what I get to imagining. You'd be surprised."
"In your dreams."
She was right there; she was the most fuckable bit of crackling in the Home Counties as far as I was concerned.
Kathleen was married to Arnold who ran and operated his own courier business, they were, on the face of it, a happy couple but she had always wanted her independence and to pursue her own career. She was one of those very efficient secretaries with unswerving loyalty to Mitchell. Unfortunately for me she demonstrated the same loyalty to her husband.
A few weeks later I was sat in the little pokey office I had in the underground car park when the phone rang, it was Kathleen.
"Sir Alistair wants you to go to his house and pick his daughter up and drive her across to Western-Super-Mare to meet her boyfriend. He wants you to spend the day there and bring her back in the evening."
Almost before the Bentley came to a halt outside the front door Lucinda skipped out and was sat in the front seat. She was wearing a short skirt, no stockings and thigh boots just over her knees. She didn't try to hide her thighs either. She was wearing a low cut blouse with the top two buttons undone and an ample amount of cleavage on display. I had a long drive in front of me with this young sexy girl for company and it was going to be difficult to ignore the numerous distractions she represented.
She was a beautiful girl, stunning blue eyes and long red hair which lapped over her shoulders and down towards her breasts which were young, smooth and firm looking, her nipples stuck out like two missiles ready to be launched from there silos. Her thighs were long white and smooth. We talked about her college studies; she was studying law and finding it hard going. She knew her father would easily find her a post at one of the leading law firms once she had graduated.
Her boyfriend, she told me, was also a law student and that she had only been going out with him for two months.
I dropped her off at her boyfriend's house and went to a café for a meal and a coffee then killed time walking around Western-Super-Mare. I picked Lucinda up at around 7.00pm, she kissed her boyfriend and got into the car rather amateurishly and flashed her little, gleaming, white thong. I averted my eyes but thought lovely, very sweet.
We set off home and she never attempted to cover her thighs even though she was wearing a very short skirt. I kept my eyes firmly fixed on the road but it wasn't difficult to take a regular glance. Constantly she crossed and uncrossed her legs in exaggerated fashion letting her little skirt ride further up each time until her crotch was constantly on show. I knew what she was doing but she was the boss's daughter, one false move or suggestion from me and my job was gone. I have been there before with teenage girls, they give you the come on, come and get it, then in shock horror yell, "What kind of a girl do you think I am."
Lucinda asked me to pull off the main road; saying she needed to answer the call of nature. It was dark when I turned off at the first reasonable opportunity and found the nearest country lane and stopped the Bentley where there was a gap in the hedges. Lucinda got out of the car and didn't bother to disappear behind the hedges. She found an appropriate spot and in full view hitched up her skirt, crouched near the hedge, pulled her thong to one side and had a piss that seemed to last forever. I could see the stream of piss coming out of her pussy and making a little pool in the grass beneath her.
Up she got pulled her thong into place like a hammock for her cunt, with the Bentley's headlights still on I could see she had a deliciously, shaped and protruding pubic bone. She pulled her little skirt down and straightened it out then and came back to the car and surprised me by climbing into the backseat.
"Rogers are you going to fuck me or not?"
It sounded like the kind of instruction her father would give.
This was a chance too good to miss. Fuck Sir Alistair's gorgeous young daughter on the backseat of his Bentley. I turned the headlights off and got into the back of the car. I unbuckled my belt and unzipped my fly and pulled my trousers and Jockeys down over my arse. Soon Lucinda was stretched out on the backseat, her thong was hanging on the steering wheel where I had tossed it. Her thighs were open and her head has hanging out of the car door with her long red-hair streaming towards the ground.
I opened her thighs as wide as I could in the cramped conditions, rubbing my cockend along her sweet, little slit, spreading her young labia, I circled and massaged her clit with the hard tip of my knob-end until she was wailing for it..
"Fuck me Rogers, fuck me. Fuck me."
I slid my cock down to find the cute, little ring of her tight cunt-hole and extracted from her the longest groan I had ever heard from a woman as she took thick cock right up her young, little cunt.
