I Hire Monica the Maid

This is an adult sex story.

No one under the age of eighteen is involved in any way with this story.

This is my first story.

I originally published this story on August 4, 2017 as the first of many stories about Jack Colton.

I felt it was time to revisit this story and rewrite and edit where needed.

For those of you who don't know me, read this story first please and then start down the path.

Thank you for your views and votes.

*****

Her tongue and lips were working wonders on my very stiff prick.

I had no idea, no inclination whatsoever that she was this good at sucking.

She was using some great tools in her blowjob toolkit for my pleasure.

I found later she had more tools for me to enjoy.

But right now she was using her lips, mouth, tongue, throat, heat, moisture, motion, and music.

Yes, music.

She was humming as she blew me, the vibration adding to the experience.

It was an E-Ticket Ride.

If you're old enough to know what that is, you'll understand what was happening to me at that moment.

My God she was so good.

Her mouth was wet and warm, her long, smooth tongue was flat and massaging the bottom of my cock as she bobbed.

Up and down, slow and then fast, slow and then fast, very deliberate and pacing herself, her nose nuzzling my pubic hair as her tongue sought out the top of tight sack with each cycle and the tip of my penis entering her throat, which felt heavenly.

It's probably a primal thing, but when I spend time with a woman, talking with her, whether it be for coffee, a glass of wine, in a business meeting, during a meal or in a passing conversation like on a plane, I very quickly end up looking at her mouth, and in about 1.3 seconds I am wondering what it would feel like to have her lips around my cock, sucking me.

I had known this woman, this beautiful highly experienced cocksucker, for years and the thought of getting a blowjob from her was only a dream for every day of it.

Until now.

My dream had come true: her lips were wrapped tightly around my dick.

She was so damn good at pleasuring me I knew I couldn't hold back, as much as I would have liked to.

My hands gripped her head and her tight mouth assumed vacuum powers as I pumped over and over into her throat, groaning loudly as I experienced what I thought must be nirvana as she swallowed my hot load, spurt after spurt.

When I was finished, still out of breath, I released my hands; she pulled off of me, looked up and smiled.

I knew she was a keeper.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

*****

My name is John T. Colton, everyone calls me Jack.

Allow me take a few minutes to tell you who I am and how I came to a heavenly orgasmic finish in a warm, wet, willing mouth and my cum ended being gulped down a tight throat.

For over a decade I have been what people call an M&A Advisor. Mergers and acquisitions. I work with CEOs and business owners to prepare their companies for growth and then a sale.

The goal being that the owner cashes out.

When they sell their business, they usually get a lot of cash.

This is what we refer to as "fuck you" money.

It's when you have enough money to say "FUKC YOU" to anyone about anything.

The money from the buyer, the new owner, goes into a bank account so they newly rich owner (or former owner) can go play.

Play: golf, the ponies, new pussy, with a new spouse or the old spouse.

None of that matters to me.

I get paid for my time, knowledge and advice during the process. I also get a percentage of the sale price. The larger the sale is, the larger my take. Sometimes these deals close within a year and sometimes they never close.

Sometimes we get started on moving towards a sale and then the owner changes their mind and pulls the plug. I fight this tendency by having many irons in the fire at any point in time.

As for me, I have the flexibility to work when I want to, I am often with clients at their locations but I can work from home, my office, a local Starbucks or by the pool if I want.

My market is Southern California, home to close to 25 million people and hundreds of thousands of businesses. I have no shortage of work. I like what I do. Many of my clients have an employee base of Mexicans (Hispanics) and Asians, and that is who I usually, but not always, end up in fucking the daylights out of.

Being a native of SoCal and of a certain age, growing up around but not in the entertainment industry, I'll make references in my stories to Hollywood movies and shows, of actors and actresses, and of iconic places in Southern California. I'm a sports fan, like to travel and enjoy eating at nice restaurants and staying in upscale hotels.

I mention steakhouses in my stories, some of them by name.

I like these places because they serve very high quality food, have excellent bars, are usually romantically lit, as in lots of dark booths, and they usually have a very attractive wait staff.

My favorite drink is an expensive bottle of French champagne, and I'll tell you why.

Drinking bubbly implies a special occasion, a celebration, and women love it, especially when they see on the drink menu or hear the price per bottle I pay.

Women like men to spend money on them, and having a couple of bottles of imported champagne implies to my female companions that they are very special and that they are being honored by me.

Plus, women often get friskier and funnier faster on bubbly.

I take them to darkly lit restaurants because when a woman has the mindset to get romantic, I don't want to have to put her on simmer.

I want to bring her to a boil right then and there.

I've turned from being a one woman man to a man with many tastes for the female flesh.

I am using the name The Business Man these stories.

California labor laws being what they are, I don't chase after the women who are employed by any of my clients.

Despite the temptations, and there have been many, I made a rule early on not to fish off the company pier until fishing season was officially declared open.

That is when the deal closes or the owner ends the process of working with me.

My strategy is a simple one. Work with the client and their staff, and keep a professional distance.

Once the deal closes, it' go hunting. Also, once the owner ends the engagement, short of selling, I get to go to the happy hunting ground.

Don't get me wrong, I've had plenty of opportunity during most of my projects to get laid.

Once your female teammates realize you're a nice guy and will work with them side by side, to get the job done, they start to see you as a person.

Not a consultant.

Not a stooge hired by the owner.

But as a potential sexual partner.

I learned that during these projects I simply need to till the land and get the garden ready for planting.

And because I am interested in these women as people and not just employees, they open up to me and we become friends. It doesn't take long for them to look at me (like I look at them) as something more than a friend.

I know when we get to that point because of body language and because of how they start dressing for the office. Tighter blouses. Cleavage. Change in hair style. Perfume. High heels. New dresses. I compliment them, I notice the changes. Let me tell you, I am often the only one who notices and says something. Their husbands and boyfriends rarely say anything, and their ex-husbands or boyfriends would never say anything nice to them.

So, I see something, I say something. Always polite. Always professional.

I don't leer. I don't undress them with my eyes. I don't say crass things.

But I do compliment my female business associates if they look good and the funny thing is, the more I compliment them, the more they strive to be complimented.

Women who are professional want to be recognized for what they know. I compliment them on that as well during the engagement and if I can teach them something, and they are open to it, they like that about me.

So what happens when I start with the compliments? They start putting their hand on my arms, touching me. Standing or sitting even closer than before.

Working long hours, many of them after hours, it can be easy to convince the ladies working with you that you'll buy them drinks and dinner to thank them for their efforts and hard work. Once they're out with you, ply them with a drink or two or a share a couple of bottles of wine or champagne and in no time flat, once you get them relaxed and laughing, moving to start kissing and in about another 2.0 seconds, fondling.

One thing leads to another and before you know it, you're banging a chick you've spent months working side by side with.

And, about every five minutes I'm silently asking myself "I wonder what she looks like naked?"

I'm sometimes surprised but never disappointed.

The ones I thought had a bush are often shaved. Some that showed me a small tattoo on their ankle in the office have their backs covered in ink. The prim and proper ones who crave anal. The ones who were so particular about how their salads were prepared loved to swallow salty, oyster like cum. The lady who spends a lot of time putting her makeup on in the morning wanting you to cum only on her face.

One of my biggest surprises happened twice, so far. Banging two co-workers. In the same bed in the same hotel. Ladies that had never kissed another female, or touched female breasts other than their own and had never dined at the Y before. In just a couple of hours, they were bringing each other so much pleasure I literally just laid there watching them devour one another.

Both times I felt honored to have facilitated the process, as well as having been blown and fucking both of them before they really got into each other.

But despite the temptations I made a rule early on not to fish off the company pier until fishing season was officially a go.

I was also married for many years and I want to make it clear that I only cheated on my wife once. You'll have to read through my stories to find out when that was but I'll let you in on the fact that it was the first time I had, and enjoyed anal sex.

This story, and the ones that follow, take place after my marriage ended when my wife passed away.

*****

So, back to business ... once a deal is closed, and everyone's check clears the bank, those women I worked side by side with become targets of opportunity for me. Being with them for months, working on projects allows me to see what they are made of and who they are.

Over time they share everything with me. I mean everything. I know who is getting it, who isn't. Whose husband wants head but won't reciprocate by eating pussy.

Who wants to kick their lazy ass husband to the curb and who is looking for some strange.

Who spits and who swallows. Who doesn't currently swallow but would swallow for the right guy.

Who finds other women attractive but would never do anything without a catalyst (which is me and lots of alcohol).

Who wants to experiment, sexually, and who needs a few drinks, a local hotel room or a quick trip to Vegas to really let lose.

These are women who are in a rut, and rutting (fucking) with me gets them out of it.

I've been impressed at the sexual activity I have been able to start in some relationships.

One weekend I banged a woman who flew up with me to Vegas; she told her then live-in boyfriend it was a tradeshow and she had to work the booth.

This was just after I closed a smaller deal and she had some vacation time to use. My part of the deal was done and I got paid. I took her to Vegas as a way of thanking her for her efforts.

She flew out Thursday afternoon and came home Monday morning, her ass and pussy both sore as hell.

Even though she was sore, she was worked up. And that Monday night, from the minute he walked into their apartment until the next morning when he had to leave for work, they fucked. She was insatiable.

He didn't know what had come over her.

In a word: me. I had fucked her every day in all three holes and spent lavish sums of money on her to live the life of a princess for four days and nights.

We were picked up in a limo, we stayed in a three bedroom suite with a grand view, fucked in all the beds, went to fabulous shows, ate terrific meals, some of them nude in the room, took her on a helicopter tour of Vegas, went shooting at the 702 Range, had couples massages every day, got her a manicure and pedicure, her hair done twice, had a cabana out at the European pool at the hotel where she sunned topless in a tiny thong (a different colored one each day) after I shaved her bush down to a tiny strip.

You should have seen the looks around the pool when the 22 year old coed from UNLV I hired to be her "best friend" rubbed sun screen on her.

Imagine two topless beauties in tiny thongs rubbing oil all over each other. Every 20 minutes. From 11am to 4pm. One afternoon I had to hire a bodyguard to keep people away. Best $750 I ever spent.

She was so worked up after being fondled for five hours she became multi orgasmic. It was the first time that had happened to her. I take full credit for giving her a new universe to explore.

I took her clothes shopping, including lingerie; bought her some jewelry and we gambled a bit. Stayed up late, slept in.

She loved the attention, the gifts and the sex. I increased her sexual temperature and her boyfriend got the benefits without a clue as to who it was that lit her fire.

I know I changed their lives for the better.

So, what am I looking for? Women who are divorced or widowed are at the top of my list. These are MILFs, but I am not interested in having more kids, I want the ones who can't or won't get pregnant again. And, I won't touch married women. Separated, maybe, depending on the circumstances but married ladies should be sleeping with their husbands, not me.

I wouldn't kick a 25 year old out of bed, but my goal isn't to see how many of those I can fuck.

That age lady is looking for a sugar daddy, pop out a kid or five, quit their job and have someone else support them for the rest of their life.

I'm not interested in diapers, crying babies and trying to get a stroller through security and on a plane.

I want the women that are settled down, those who can hold a conversation and have the ability to take short trips. SF. Napa. Scottsdale. San Diego. Sedona. Santa Barbara. Laguna. Vail. Seattle. Sonoma. Tahoe.

Notice I didn't say Barstow, Bakersfield or Blythe; if you don't know where they are look them up on the map.

That's my background.

Enjoy my stories.

*****

For almost twelve years I was very happily married. One January afternoon as I was leaving the office, I received a call that my wife had been killed in an auto accident. She was on her way home from the school where she had taught for many years. It seems one of the local hot shot business guys had spent too much time on the 19th hole (the bar at the country club) and even though he was too drunk to drive, neither the bartender, the cocktail waitress or his friends had the sense to take away his keys and give him a ride home or to call Uber.

Driving well over the speed limit, drunk as a skunk and calling someone on his cell phone, and then running a solid red light, he t-boned my wife's car as she was driving through an intersection. She was killed instantly, which was the only blessing. The drunken bastard hardly suffered a scratch.

The funeral and services were a blur and I don't remember much of any of those days. I just remember the numbness and the sadness I felt. It was like living in Phoenix and instantly moving to Seattle, from sunshine and warmth to darkness, never ending rain and bitter cold.

The evenings were hard. The house, once full of life and laughter, was empty and silent. I cried a lot, drank a lot (I bought cases of expensive Cabernet at a time from Total Wine, they even delivered it). The TV was on but nothing registered. The newspapers were just words on print. I tried to sleep, but would wake up just a couple of hours after turning out the lights. Some nights I went to bed and couldn't fall asleep. I lost weight, couldn't and didn't eat much, didn't feel like doing anything.

I was astounded by the number of women who wanted to comfort me in my time of sorrow. Some were neighbors that I didn't think even knew who I was. Some of the ladies had taught school with my wife. Some were the moms of the students my wife had taught ----- there were a lot of these.

I know they wanted to comfort me, but as much as I was flattered, I wasn't in the mood. Me, a normally horny dude, not interested in sex with women who were interested in having it. Go figure.

I was very polite to all and declined the invitations at that time, but I realized that despite some gray hair, some very good looking women found me ... attractive. Or, eligible. Or available. Or, disease-free. Or breathing. Or a guy with money. Or a nice guy. Or, maybe they just wanted to have sex for their own personal reasons, you know, like using me as a live dildo.

I kept their names and contact information just in case I needed it down the road.

Locally, one solid, stable person in my life at this time was the housekeeper. She would come twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays, clean the house, talk to me and try to cheer me up. Her name was Monica.

Monica was Hispanic, not sure where she was from originally, maybe Mexico, and had also suffered some losses in her life. Her husband had passed away of a heart attack several years previously. She had two kids at the junior college, and she was struggling to get by money wise. I guessed she was in her mid 40s.

She had been cleaning our house for more than 10 years. She was short with shoulder length dark hair, no gray that I could see; beautiful round brown eyes and a smile that was contagious. I never thought of her as the hired help or any less of a person because of what she did or where she came from.

Monica was articulate and was a very hard worker. She had always been friendly and nice, welcoming me with a hug hello and goodbye, and wasn't afraid to ask me something if she had a question about what to toss out of the refrigerator and when she needed more cleaning supplies.

I liked that she liked to laugh and she got me laughing more as the days after the funeral went by.

Details aren't always my strong suit but I did notice that sometimes she wore makeup, and maybe lipstick. Nothing garish, like bright red, something along the lines of a light pink. Her complexion was smooth. She wore earrings that complemented what she wore, and once in a while I noticed a necklace.

Monica once had a great body but through the years she had added a few pounds around her hips and ass. Her stomach was pretty flat and she had nice legs. I'd say she had a good body that spring. When the weather warmed up, she had a nice tan; I knew her house had a pool and she liked to be out in the sun.

If you ever seen the beginning of the movie Hall Pass, the two main male characters go to ridiculous lengths to look at good looking women without their wives noticing. The wives not only see what these two yokels are doing, they call them out on their stupid behavior.

When it came to looking at Monica, I had always struggled. If she was in the same room I would watch her. I was trying to not be obvious. When we spoke to each other, it was hard to look at her beautiful, full dark brown eyes when she was smiling at me and talking to me because her breasts simply got in the way.

I didn't stare at her chest ----- honest! But my God, it was hard to miss because her tits were downright distracting.

It appeared to me that sometimes she wasn't wearing a bra because her breasts swayed. Her nipples poked out, a lot, particularly on those days when I had the air conditioning on. I think she realized that short of wearing a Mumu, she wasn't going to be able to hide her assets from me or anyone else. Within a few weeks of the funeral she just wore what I perceived to be tighter tops and yoga type black stretch pants. But maybe it was just me coming out of the fog.