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Wealthy Girl

Well, as you know, I’m wealthy. I’d like to say I earned it, but truth is, I inherited it. Oh, I manage my part of it, along with a team of experts, and my assets, and the family’s assets are growing… Anyway, that’s not what you want to hear about.

So, I’ve had this old butler for like a million years. He was with the family since before I was born. His name is Frederick. You can’t call him Fred. He hates that. If you have seen any old Sidney Poitier movies, he looks like that, but with short gray curly hair. I mean, he’s quite old.

So, around the time I turned 18, I started getting super-horny. The only guys around my age were all messed up, at least in my opinion. But I wanted some male attention. One evening, in a crazy mood, I asked Frederick whether I could have a massage. He’d given them to me before. Simple backrubs in my underwear. Totally innocent.

One thing you have to know about Frederick. He is the absolute model of morality. Elegance, too. The perfect butler. It’s his example that keeps our family from doing anything crazy. I mean, he even knows which forks to use at a fancy dinner. I hate all that shit, you know elegant dining and all that, but it’s expected of me, having the family I do, so I guess it’s OK.

Oh, sorry, one thing about me, I’m not very good at staying focused.

So Frederick gave me my little backrub. Impulsively, because I was feeling super-horny that evening, I asked him whether he’d rub my butt. He indulged. Through my underwear, of course. As he was massaging my glutes, I kind of arched up and quickly pulled my panties down. I think Frederick must have known I was super horned up, but he just kept going as if rubbing a white girl’s 18-year-old naked butt, was just one of his normal duties. maybe it was like polishing shoes for him.

I flipped over, with my panties around my ankles, giving him a great view of my shaved pussy. I was a bit scared that I had gone to far. When I was younger, Frederick used to scold me, just like I was one of his own children. They’re all grown now, and all model citizens.

Oh, right. So, he started massaging the front of me. You know, arms, ankles, feet, legs. Impulsively, since I had gone too far already, I whipped off my bra. And I do mean whipped. The straps tore as I took it off. Since I have like thirty of the damn things, that didn’t matter.

Frederick continued, not bothered at all by my show. He massaged me, but didn’t touch my tits. I’m proud of them. They grew in much larger than I had expected they would. Almost larger than I hoped. I have to say, having big breasts does nothing for sports, but the guys seem to like them, and well, I like them. I could almost go for girls with great breasts.

Anyway, I was so far gone I actually asked Frederick to massage my breasts. He glanced over his shoulder, as if to check whether anyone might be seeing, even though we were in my bedroom, in my wing of the house, and the door was locked.

Then, to my complete surprise, because Frederick never does anything out of the ordinary. he started massaging my breasts. First very lightly. Too lightly. Just as I was about to suggest that I wasn’t made out of thin, fragile crystal, he started leaning in. Pretty soon, the massage was really intense, squeezing that special tissue deep inside. You know what I mean. Girls, if you’ve never had that done, you’ve got to. It’s exquisite. Oh, it hurt a little tiny bit, but mostly it was sheer bliss.

I had never had that done before, so I was just amazed. I started feeling an orgasmic feeling building, and he hadn’t even touched my puss. He kept going, and sure enough, I orgasmed! I don’t know whether Frederick knew that or not, but being typical for him, if he did, he didn’t acknowledge it.

All too soon, the massage was over and he politely left the room. I thanked him. He never let me know whether he enjoyed it or not.

You guessed it, a few days later, I asked him to repeat the performance. This time, however, I couldn’t resist rubbing my clit with one hand, while he was doing that thing to my breasts. I know he knew I orgasmed this time. He had to restrain me on the massage table with one hand as I was screaming, arching my back, and squirming all over the place.

A day later, my mom asked me something at the breakfast table, with my dad, my sister, my two brothers, Aunt Bernice, Grandpa John, and Frederick present that turned my face ten shades of red. I couldn’t believe she’d blurt it out in front of the whole family like that.

“Dear, Frederick asked me whether the intimate massages he’s been giving you are OK with me.”

Oh, I so wanted to hide. to run away, something. Anything!

Mom continued, “Of course dear it’s OK. We all have our needs.”

To my utter surprise, none of my siblings said anything. No reaction at all. They just went on slurping up their French toast.

I received several more massages. Over time they evolved to where Frederick would end up with fingers in my vagina and sometimes even in my ass, bringing me to orgasms that I didn’t even know were possible.

I finally got up the boldness to ask him to strip for the massages. He reacted. I mean, he actually reacted. Something Frederick never does. His reaction was a great big smile. “I thought you’d never ask, Miss.”

In a heartbeat, he was out of his clothes, and I was looking at his glorious big penis sticking straight and hard out of a mass of curly gray hairs. Forget the fact that Frederick is old. The man is fit!

Sometimes, I’d jerk him off as he was doing me. On his birthday, I gave the old man a special treat. I had him lay on the massage table instead of me. I placed a condom on his rock-hard, awaiting penis. Then I squatted on the table over him, and slowly lowered my very horny and wet vagina onto his glorious erection. I’ve since done that many times. I get an especially big kick out of feeling him cum inside of me. It’s a little hard to detect, but worth the effort.

There’s one thing that’s been bothering me forever, and I don’t know if I’ll ever find out: Does Frederick do something similar for my sister? What about my brothers, Grandpa, Aunt Bernice? Oh, my god, and how about Mom and Dad? I’ve asked him like a dozen times, but he’s Frederick. He won’t say. I asked my brothers, and my sister, and they won’t tell me. They act shocked that the thought could even come to my mind. But is it an act? I can’t ask Mom or Dad, but gosh, I’d sure like to know.

1 thought on “Wealthy Girl

  1. i want a Fredrick.

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