I’ve lived alone with my mother since I was born, or at least if you can call it living with your mother, because she’s not often around. I never knew my father, and my mother did everything she could to avoid talking about him, always claiming she didn’t really know herself.
She’s a bit of a businesswoman, running her own company, and she makes enough money for us to have a big house and for me to have everything I want. She’s away regularly, sometimes for several weeks at a time, so she had to hire a maid when I was born to take care of me and everything that needs doing around the house. Anita, my good old friend, was my confidante, my surrogate mother, and she was strict enough to prevent me from becoming a spoiled rich kid who annoyed everyone. But she was fair, and my upbringing was perfect with her. My dear old Anita passed away in her sleep after more than seventeen years of life spent with me. I will miss her terribly, but life must go on, and she wouldn’t have wanted me to mourn her and sink into loneliness and despair.
My mother had rushed back to finalize the funeral arrangements and to hire a new maid to continue caring for me and the household. But, since I was nearing adulthood, I was perfectly capable of looking after myself and attending to my own affairs and studies. My upbringing as a young child was practically complete, and since I was rather well-behaved and solitary, my mother trusted me completely.
The newcomer was quite young, I’d say in her late twenties, maybe early thirties. She was a beautiful black woman who seemed rather kind to me, and as she had told my mother, she liked taking on big challenges. She had moved into Anita’s old room and redecorated it to her liking. For the first week, I hardly saw her, I spent most of my time in my room reading, listening to music, or playing video games. Deep down, I didn’t really want to run into her because losing Anita was still hurting me deeply. I think she understood my pain and left me alone without bothering me about anything. My mother had left again for at least three months to start a new division of her company in some Asian country, so I would have to interact with Clara sooner or later.
I started by watching her from a distance, carefully avoiding being seen. She wasn’t at all like Anita with her simple clothes. No. I even found her attire a little odd. It was possible that it was because she was still relatively young, and anyway, I knew absolutely nothing about girls, so she was possibly dressed in a fashionable way, and that’s how young maids ended up dressing. The days went by, and I kept watching her, trying not to be seen. This beautiful little Black woman gave me palpitations and strange sensations whenever I watched her clean. I’d done some research online and realized that her cleaning supplies were definitely not standard for her job!
I had started interacting with her, discussing her work, my games, or my music. The more I talked to her and the more I saw her with her radiant smile, the stranger I felt. She always wore a short dress with a kind of apron over it and thigh-high stockings with magnificent high-heeled shoes in brilliant black patent leather, a bit like the shoes and stockings my mother always wore. But what troubled me most were the yellow rubber gloves she wore almost constantly while doing her chores. I found her hands so beautiful in those gloves that it gave me strange sensations that warmed my heart and lower abdomen. The more I looked at her, the more I talked to her, the more I found her radiant and infinitely beautiful. She always wore makeup to accentuate her eyes and a dark lipstick that gave her a mouth and a smile that greatly disturbed me.
After a while, our conversations became more friendly, and although Anita’s death still hurt, Clara managed to make me feel better. I felt she was becoming more of a confidante and a friend. But she unsettled me more and more, sometimes I felt like she looked at me differently, with eyes that seemed more mischievous. But that was surely just my imagination, and I tried my best to ignore it.
During one of our conversations, she asked me why none of my friends came over, and I replied that I didn’t really have any friends except those from school. She smiled. She also asked me if I had a girlfriend or if there was a girl or several girls I liked at school. I shyly said yes, but that I was much too embarrassed to talk to them and that anyway, they wouldn’t want me because I wasn’t the most handsome boy and I was a bit chubby compared to the jocks at school. Besides, no girl is interested in a top-of-the-class nerd. She smiled again.
She finally asked me, laughing, “Have you ever watched a pornographic film?” My astonishment left me speechless, I didn’t know what to say and felt myself blushing with shame. “Yes, but Anita always forbade me from watching that filth, that that’s not how things were between two people. I tried once or twice, but I didn’t really know where to look, and I finally gave up.” She burst into laughter, and seeing her laugh like that deeply unsettled me. It was the first time I’d ever made a girl laugh—I mean, a woman, or whatever. I’d never seen Anita laugh, nor my mother for that matter. Something powerful had just stirred within me, as if I’d found a spark of confidence I’d never possessed. I started laughing nervously along with her, and she finally gave me a radiant smile and a wink.
While we continued chatting as she did some chores, she asked me directly and bluntly, “Have you ever masturbated?” Suddenly, I felt incredibly small and, above all, incredibly embarrassed. My upbringing had taught me not to talk about such things, and honestly, I didn’t know what to say. There were several minutes of heavy silence, but it didn’t seem to bother her at all. During those oppressive minutes, she watched me out of the corner of her eye, giving me a strange, half-smile. She said absolutely nothing, she seemed to be waiting for me to give her an answer. “Yes, several times,” I replied in a barely audible voice. Without really knowing why, perhaps to change the subject, I said, “I really like your rubber gloves.” She looked at me with interest and replied, “I like them a lot too. I love wearing them and I adore the feel of them on my hands.” My eyes widened in astonishment, she gave me one of the most beautiful smiles I had ever received in my entire life.
I confessed that I had already stolen a pair of rubber gloves that Anita kept in her pantry, which contained the supplies she needed. “There were five pairs,” I said, “I figured she wouldn’t notice!” Clara laughed heartily again, and seeing her laugh like that made me very happy. “Do you masturbate with those gloves?” she asked me. I nodded, a little ashamed. “Then it’ll be our little secret, just between the two of us. No need to tell anyone.” I felt understood and not judged at all. Our conversation ended, and I went to my room. I thought and rethought about that wonderful conversation and the feelings it had given me. I felt more alive and more confident. I finally fell asleep with my beautiful blue rubber gloves in my hands.
My eighteenth birthday arrived the next day without me even remembering it. My mother wasn’t there, but she’d sent me a small, insignificant trinket as a gift. Clara, on the other hand, wished me a very happy birthday and handed me a present. “Open it when you’re alone in your room and enjoy it to the fullest!” she said. She kissed me on the cheek and went back to her chores, still wearing her pretty yellow gloves that suited her so well. When I opened the package, I was amazed and incredibly happy to see what was inside! A gorgeous pair of Marigold yellow rubber gloves! There was a little note in the package that said: “Use them to their fullest and have lots of fun! We’ll keep this for the two of us, kisses, Clara.” I was in heaven, and immense joy washed over me. I immediately tried on these wonders, and to my great satisfaction, they were perfect for my hands—just snug enough and the right size, unlike my blue gloves, which were a bit too big!
Without thinking, like a child who had just received the moon as a gift, I rushed to thank Clara. But when I saw her in her tight little dress, her apron, her long stockings, her high heels, and especially her gloves, I stopped dead in my tracks to stare at her, gazing at her with desire. I had never felt anything like it before, and seeing her, I instantly got an erection. I gazed at her for a long time, I found her so beautiful and she excited me so much! I knew I could never confess such a thing to her and that I would keep this secret for the rest of my life. I wanted to touch myself with my gloves, lower my pants, and masturbate while looking at her, but I was too afraid she would catch me and be angry with me.
Suddenly, she looked in my direction as if she’d seen me, smiled, and began sniffing her gloves with obvious pleasure. I was stunned! Then she caressed her face and neck. She inserted a finger deeply into her mouth and began moving it back and forth. She licked her fingers, then the entire glove, letting out soft moans. I couldn’t believe my eyes, I went a little limp and felt myself trembling with pure joy. She opened the top of her dress and freed her breasts, caressing them gently. A trickle of saliva fell to moisten them slightly, and she began to caress herself more and more firmly. Her moans grew louder, her breathing quickened, and I, for one, had absolutely no idea what to do. I was trembling like a leaf, cold sweats trickled down my forehead, and I was incredibly aroused.
Completely unexpectedly, she said very quietly: “Come out of your hiding place, you little voyeur! You want to watch? Well, come sit on the sofa and watch!” She watched me coming towards her while continuing to caress her breasts, pinching her nipples which had become hard with excitement and running her tongue over her lips. “I see you’ve already tried my gift, you little perv! They look wonderful on you! Do you like them?” I nodded, speechless and incredulous at what was happening. “Perfect! Now sit down, don’t touch anything, and watch me pleasure myself. It’ll be much better than a porn film, believe me!” She threw me a towel and said, “You’ll eventually need this. Don’t touch yourself until I give you permission. You watch and you learn, you little pleasure-seeker!”
I sat opposite her on the sofa, as she had asked me to. She was in front of a large armchair with armrests and she eventually sat down as well. She caressed her arms, moved down to her already hardened breasts, then her gloved hands slid down her stomach and onto her thighs. With a slow, sensual movement, she lowered her hands to her ankles, lifted her leg, and caressed it as she moved back up her thighs, gently looking me straight in the eyes with a small, knowing smile. I could now see her little black lace panties and I could see that they were slightly wet and I didn’t understand why but this magnificent sight that Clara offered me was turning my head and giving me desires that I never thought I would have! She put both legs on the armrests of the chair and ran her hands over her soaked panties.
She was making little moans of excitement and slipped a hand under her panties, sighing loudly. I wanted to touch myself, but at that moment she said aloud, “Don’t touch yourself! Watch me come and learn! You’ll touch yourself when I tell you to! Not before!” Then, she calmly took off her panties, taking her time. She tossed them to me and said, “Smell it! Breathe deeply and smell the scent of my wet sex!” Which I did without protest. The smell of her sex aroused me immensely, and I longed for the moment when I could finally touch myself and feel the pleasure rising within me.
She placed a hand on her pussy, I was seeing a pussy for the first time, and I found it beautiful and very inviting. She began rubbing what I believe to be her clitoris, crying out in pleasure. Then she inserted two fingers and began moving them quickly and almost violently, letting out cries of ecstasy that I didn’t know were possible. She yelled at me, “Take off your pants and underwear!” Which I did eagerly. She continued to thrust her fingers fiercely into her pussy. “Now, caress your balls, just your balls, and whatever you do, don’t touch your cock.” I obeyed, watching her masturbate vigorously. I was completely out of control and all I wanted was to come in front of her. “You can start jerking off, you little perv,” she said.
I came the second I touched my penis. I didn’t ejaculate as I expected, which was rather disappointing, but she continued like a madwoman, pleasuring herself with her fingers until she shot a lot of fluid that soaked the entire living room floor, screaming with pleasure and saying huge words! She looked at me with a big smile and said, “You’ve seen your first real porn, do you understand now why I told you not to touch yourself before I told you? Because you don’t have any experience yet, and you’ll have to toughen up if you want to make a woman come.”
“Did you like your real birthday present?” I told her I loved it but was disappointed I’d come so quickly. She laughed and said she’d have to show me a few things next time. Next time, really? She put her wet panties back on and started cleaning up the mess, saying, “This has to stay between us too!” To my surprise, she kissed me on the mouth and finally said, “With a little practice and some good advice, I think you’ll be able to last a long time and come when the time is right!” I realized that this was just the beginning of a whole new education!
To be continued…