I grew up on a farm in the Western Cape, a wine farm, in an area called the Klein Karoo. I am a woman of mixed race, classified by the government as a Cape Coloured. My time on the farm as a young girl until I left at 18 is another story. The farmer was a good man, and he helped a lot of the farm children who had ambition and a yearning for knowledge, to better themselves with loans and bursaries. He also had a program on the farm where he would apprentice the children to help them become artisans and improve their employability.
I went to school and won a bursary to study at the university, which was a rare honour and opportunity for me, a Coloured girl. But my money ran out, and the bursary did not cover all my expenses, especially my living expenses. Through the farmworkers network, I managed to get a job as a domestic, a home help, a servant with white people in a white suburb not far from the university. The job gave me accommodation with meals, and I earned enough to cover my basic living expenses and enough time to study.
My duties were to clean the house, do the laundry and ironing, and cook one meal a day which was decided by the woman of the house. In return I received a salary, a separate room with a bath and toilet which had a separate entrance and lots of privacy. I could do what I wanted and had the freedom of the kitchen. I just had to fulfil my duties. The husband was a semi-invalid, but no bother, and I called him Mr. C. If I went out I had to make sure he was comfortable and had a snack and drinks handy. The wife, Madam to me, still worked full time. Their children were grown-up and lived on their own. There was one son who was busy with his military conscription, which could end soon. We did not talk much and conversation was limited between us. After everybody had their meal, I could eat with them or on my own, I cleaned up and went to my rooms. My classes were usually between 10am and 4pm and only three days of the week. Loads of free time to study and read and practice swimming, a new skill.
The house had a huge garden maintained by a team of gardeners who came once a week. My other task was to make sure the pool was clean (there was an automatic cleaning device) and that the garden was watered. My weekends were my own and I had the idea that they preferred to do for themselves, although they would prepare meals for me if I was there.
It was a simple life of work and study. Friends and boyfriends could only visit weekends and noise must be kept to a minimum. I had no boyfriends and still missed my one and only lover, who I did not want to replace yet. I did miss sex, lots, but I was not desperate, and I did not want a relationship, but I missed the excitement of sex and I would like to explore lovemaking I was taught by my lover on somebody else.
Likewise, I spent most weekends at the university that was open basically 24 hours of the day. Not only that, but I was in my final year and was hoping to be accepted to do a postgraduate degree. I know I am not ugly and that the guys do hit on me, but as for having more than a date with some serious kissing and petting, that was not happening. I did not need the aggravation of men becoming sex obsessed and wanting to control my life. Unfortunately, that was the norm in apartheid South Africa, and I am sure in the rest of the world. I also went to a predominantly white university, and relationships between white and black were illegal. A law, a hurtful, stupid law called the Immorality Act, made falling in love or having sex with a person of a different skin colour illegal, and you could go to jail if caught. The reason for this law, was to prevent exploitation of women by men in superior position or who thought they owned you body and soul. For the most part, the police ignored this and saw it as a waste of time. Nobody saw this as a crime. But why take chances? This piece of pettiness was repealed five years later in 1985.
The story starts with me coming home from university on a Sunday night and the next morning, I realized there was a guest. I went into the son's room and there was a naked man lying on the bed, sleeping. His cock was erect. A beautiful white circumcised cock with thick veins, a lovely big bell-end. I could not stop staring, he turned, and I quickly left, closing the door behind me. It felt as if I had never seen a dick before and his was lovely and thick, rising out of a thick bush of red pubic hair beautiful thick veins running up to that head. I did not see his balls, but I bet it was big in his tight ball sack. My knees became weak, my mouth was dry, and my heart was thumping away. My pussy desperately needed some seeing to, and I was really horny. Masturbation session had become boring; a quick release just to get rid of the pent-up randiness once or twice daily. Yes, he had a flat stomach and big muscular shoulders. I think it was the son that was discharged from doing his military duty.
In the kitchen, Madam explained that her son is sleeping in his room and that he arrived very late last night from Pretoria, where he was based. She asked me if I could please do his laundry and also add him to the meals. As this was added, she would increase my wages. Very nice, I thought, more money for having that beautiful cock close at hand. I could not wait to get to my rooms to do a bit of clitoral housekeeping. I wish I knew why I felt so horny from seeing that cock, when I could have any cock I liked from campus. I think it was because it was erect and white, which reminded me of the first white cock I saw, my lover's lovely erect cock which he gently stroked while standing naked in his garden waiting for my aunt.
In my rooms, I rubbed one off quickly and trimmed my own bush. Not that I hoped for anything or planned on anything; he is white and about my age, and not one of my classmates. My own pussy had a very prominent and thick clit, which I have played with since before puberty. My inner pussy lips extrude and my mons is high and very prominent if I lie down on my back. The white lover loved it and could not have enough eating and licking my pussy and fondling it through my clothes when he couldn't have it naked.
Back in the kitchen and he was having toast. Madam was there, and I had my demure downcast look, we coloured women use when in the company of white folk.
"Billy, this is our son, Pieter, and Pieter this is Billy, our help. She is not your slave to clean up after you and I expect you to clean up after yourself" said Madam. "And follow Billy's example. She is a full time student, and she works."
He stood up, and he was nice and tall, and stuck his hand out to me, as a way of introducing himself. This does not happen in white South Africa. I was surprised and awkward, but I shook his hand.
"Pleased to meet you, Billy, and you call me Pieter, please" said Pieter.
I just smiled at him and cast my eyes down, seeing he was in tight shorts which made it obvious his cock was circumcised.
"Pieter, while Billy is busy in the house, I expect you to wear more modest clothing" Madam scolded. Oh, please don't, I thought to myself, make him go naked. He was interested, I could see him eyeing me. Maybe he thought all coloured girls loved white cock (yes, OK I do) and he will fuck me, maybe he was fantasizing how he will fuck me. Madam left for work.
I got busy, and it was one of my off days from uni, so I did the laundry while cleaning the house, including his laundry. His underpants told another story, all of them had pre-cum stains, those snail tracks only mean that here we have a horny and oversexed young man, but when aren't they? No skid marks and in only one he had dried cum stains. It was at the bottom of his bag with a box of unopened condoms. Cocky bastard had bought a box of Durex marked "For the bigger man". Well, that cock was nice and thick.
Pieter and I chatted a bit about my studies and what his plans are. All of this in that shorts. My overalls I used while doing the domestic chores were short and gaping between the buttons, and I was not wearing a bra. He looked when I bent over clearing and i am sure he looked up my dress as well.
I usually do the ironing in the lounge, where I could watch television with Mr. C and also look out at the garden and the pool. I was settling down in an easy rhythm when, who would come around the corner in Speedo, but Pieter. He stretched out on a lounger facing the house and me, with that bulge in my face. OK, not close, but how was a girl going to work with that there. I became wet and started fantasizing about slipping my hand in the Speedo, when, as if reading my mind, Pieter did, rearranging his junk, because, o oh, he was getting a serious semi that would need attention. Would he do it here, because he can not see me, or go to his room, but what does he do with the cum, because there were only cum stained underpants; the shower or on his bed? Either suits me nicely, as I was 'accidentally' going to interrupt his wanking session. He will be wanking, I know, typical young and full of cum. I need to see that dick when it is aroused, pre-cum glistening on that huge purple mushroom, the cum vein swollen and the balls tight against his body.
He got up, and he came in, and I heard his bed creak, oh God, luck was on my side.
I gathered his ironed laundry and went to his room, the door was closed, but I know the lock did not fit completely, and you can push it open. Which I did and there was Pieter, on the bed, with his beautiful cock in his hand and a box of tissues. I did my best shocked look, and so did he.
