I'll Be Your Wife for the Night #02

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There are no underage characters in this story. All characters portrayed are over the age of 18-years-old.

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Lord Dudley secretly lusts over Susan, his Head Cook, from afar.

Continued from Chapter 01:

He remembered his first glimpse of Susan as if it were yesterday, instead of it being years ago. For him to remember her, her good looks and her sexy, shapely figure, she had made a very strong impression on him. Even though his wife was in good health then, as long as he didn't touch and disrespect his wife by having an extramarital affair, there was no harm in just looking. Nonetheless, he wished his wife had red hair and was as busty as Susan. Unfortunately, even though she was very tall, Elizabeth had too small of a frame to carry such large breasts. Had she had more meat on her bones, perhaps she would have survived her illness and would still be alive today.

Even though Susan was very pretty with her red hair, big blue eyes, and freckles, other than her enormous breasts, there was something about her that made him sexually attracted to her and filled him with wanton, sexual desire her. With her a respectable widow and a member of his household staff, yearning over her from afar, he'd never act upon his sexual lust for his cook. Yet, something he always fantasized doing while masturbating over thoughts of Susan, he'd love to come up behind her when she was standing in front the sink. He imagined pressing himself against her while kissing her neck and reaching around her to cup her enormous breasts in his hands.

'If only I could, I would,' he thought. 'I'd love to hump her from behind while feeling her big tits and fondling her erect nipples.'

As if they were constantly chaperoned, he never had the pleasure of seeing her alone. There was always someone else there that made him unable to say all that he wanted to say to her in private. Perhaps, just as well not to start something that he couldn't finish. Yet, even if he found himself alone with her, with him imagining himself tongue-tied, what would he say? With good Head Cooks hard to find, just as were good Head Housekeepers, he couldn't imagine his house without her should he make her feel uncomfortable with his unwanted sexual advances. With him still sequestering himself in his bedroom, no longer seeing her every day, he'd be devastated if she ever left his employ nonetheless.

No doubt, should he ever find himself alone with her, he'd spend his time staring at the impressions her big breasts made in her clothes. No doubt, should he ever find himself alone with her, he'd spend his time trying to discern the impressions her nipples made through her clothes. No doubt, should he ever find himself alone with her, he'd spend his time imagining what she looked like topless and/or naked. He'd loved to see her topless and on her knees with his cock buried in her beautiful mouth while she stared up at him with her big, blue eyes.

With him a respectable widower and her a respectable widow, whenever he had the need to sexually satisfy himself with his hand, he thought of Susan standing before him topless. He thought of kissing her, French kissing her, while touching and feeling her big breasts through her clothes. He thought of undressing her and stripping her naked. He thought of touching, feeling, fondling, and sucking her big tits. He thought of her stroking his big prick before sucking his big prick after fucking his big prick. As much as he thought about making love to her, he thought about fucking her, really pounding her pussy hard and fast.

Whenever she was outside tending to her vegetable garden, he'd steal furtive peeks of her from a second story window. With her round buttocks suspended in the air as if teasing him and unmindful of him watching her, he enjoyed looking at her while she bent at the waist. He enjoyed watching her when she was more focused on her digging than on the disarray of her clothes and on her modesty of what she was unintentionally and accidentally showing him of her sexy body.

Sometimes, especially when she leaned forward at the waist while facing him, she'd reward his patient surveillance of her with a down-blouse view of her long line of sexy cleavage along with the tops of her meaty breasts. Sometimes, when he saw her from the first-floor window squatting down planting without anyone else seeing him watching, she'd give him an up-skirt peek of her red, bushy pussy. Whatever he saw of her that day, he'd take to bed with him that night.

'God, she has such big tits. I wish I could feel her big breasts and suck erect her nipples,' he thought while stroking himself. 'I can't believe I saw her red, naked pussy. I wish I could fuck her cunt,' he thought while stroking his cock faster. 'I wish I could make love to her in the way that I used to make love to Elizabeth.'

Chapter 02:

### SusanJillParker 08 - Lord Dudley employs Susan ###

If nothing more than to be near her and to see her every day, Lord Dudley offered Susan a job as a cook.

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He remembered the first time he saw Susan up close years after her husband had died. She was out attacking weeds with a hoe hard enough to make her big breasts jiggle and wiggle behind her top. As if she was angry or sexually frustrated, she swung the hoe with great strength and purposeful intent in the way a man would swing an axe. It almost made him feel sorry for the weeds. Yet, in the way she showed so much passion for gardening, he wondered what her passion was like in bed. Perhaps, in the way that he was sexually frustrated being a widower, she was sexually frustrated being a widow.

The first time he saw Susan from a distance, years before, when both their spouses were still alive, he was immediately, sexually attracted to her. Yet, not romantically interested in another woman when he had his beloved Elizabeth warming his bed, he thought she was pretty but had no idea how attractive she really was. Then, years later, after both their spouses were long dead, when he saw how attractive she was when seeing her up close, he was more than just smitten with her.

Now, whenever he sees her, whether in the kitchen or in the garden, he looked at her sexually in the way that a thirsty man craved water. Only, they were from two distinctively different social classes. They were forbidden to fraternize, especially in a sexual way. If he took a romantic interest in her, a no-win situation, just as he'd be an outcast in society, she'd be an outcast with her peers.

With them both close in age, she looked ten years younger than he did. Her long, red hair was fashioned in a bun atop her head. With her a reappearing character in his sexual fantasies, he wondered what she looked like without her clothes. He wondered what she looked like topless. He wondered what she looked like with her hair down and covering her abundant breasts while riding a horse naked as if she was Lady Godiva. He wondered what she looked like naked while in his bed. He wondered what sounds she made while having an orgasm.

He rode nearer and slower while enjoying the distant view of her that loomed closer with every stride of his horse. Curvaceously curvy, her spun cotton dress gathered around her shoulders and was tight across her bosom. Preoccupied with her big tits, the top of her dress struggled to contain her milk-maid breasts that jiggled and wiggled with her every working movement while trying to escape the confines of her bodice. He was unsurprised by his visceral reaction to seeing the round impressions of her big breasts as if sirens on the shore that seemingly beckoned him to touch them, feel them, fondle them, and suck them.

As he approached her, a young girl joined her in the garden. The young girl shattered the intimate and sexual image he had created in his mind of the farmer's widowed wife working her garden while topless or even naked. Now, he looked at her as he'd look at a mother with her child. He looked at her less sexually than he did when thinking of her alone and without her clothes. Now he looked at her more as a mother than as a sexually desirable woman.

As soon as mother and daughter heard and saw his horse approaching, she stopped working, and leaned on her hoe with one arm while placing her other hand on her curvy hip. Her daughter looked much like her mother and made him wish that Elizabeth had blessed him with children. He would have liked a daughter in the image of her for him to better remember her. He would have liked a son to tell him all about his beautiful mother.

"Good day, Madam," Lord Dudley said in a cheery voice and giving her a smile. Susan shaded her eyes from the sun to look up at him sitting so lordly on his horse.

With her big breasts his focal point, he thought he'd have a hard time making eye contact with her. He thought he'd be disrespecting her by staring at her big breasts. Only, with her so pretty, he was more than content to stare at her Irish face. With even more to look at, he stared in her blue eyes. Then, there were her freckles. He didn't know why but he always loved women with freckles. Just as he wished Elizabeth had red hair and big tits, he wished she had freckles too. Yet, Elizabeth's rare beauty more than made up for whatever she didn't have.

"Good day, Sir," said Susan. "How may I be of help to you, My Lord?"

Instead of her calling him, Me Lord, he was happy that she spoke proper English instead of the Cockney dialect used in East London. Yet, with her having that appealing, Irish accent, he could listen to her talk all day. Not even caring what she said, he just wanted to hear her talk.

With her asking him how she may be of help to him, he suddenly had inappropriate, sexual thoughts of how she could help him by allowing him to spend some quality time with her big, naked breasts.

'How may you be of help to me? You can start by removing your top,' he thought. 'Then, you may get down on your knees and blow me while I fondle your big breasts and finger your erect nipples,' he thought. Only, he'd never say that to any woman, even one who wasn't a Lady.

If only to see them, touch them, feel them, fondle them, and suck them, he loved to be sexually intimate with her big tits. Instead of embarrassing himself and frightening her by voicing what he was thinking, he controlled himself. He pushed away his erotic vision of her standing before him topless and of her naked breasts. Instead, he responded in gentlemanly fashion.

"I'm Lord Dudley from Blue Bryn Manor and my housekeeper, Mary, told me about your plight. Might I have a word with you in private please?"

He stared down at her from his horse. Even though she looked healthy, and extraordinarily beautiful, she looked tired. From sunup to sundown, life on a farm without a man to help was hard, round-the-clock work. He didn't know how she did all the work that had to be done alone.

She was a pretty woman and, other than her big breasts, there was something about her that sexually aroused him. Unlike his thin, pale, unhealthy wife who continually coughed, she was much thicker in the hips and appeared not only strong but healthy enough to birth a few more children. Inspiring his sexually perverted thoughts of her, from his high perch and with her leaning forward on her hoe, he had a nice down-blouse view of the tops of her breasts and her long, exposed line of cleavage. He'd love nothing more than to lick the perspiration that glistened on the tops of her breasts while tracing her long, deep, valley of cleavage with his finger.

If nothing else but occasionally enjoying the sexy view of her, she'd be a nice addition to his household staff, if she accepted his job offer. As his excuse to communicate with his staff, she'd give him more reason to take his meals in the kitchen. An image that hardened his cock, he'd love nothing more than to deliberately walk in on her while she was bathing or changing. Only, with the servants' quarters on the top floor, there was little reason for him to be up there. His reason for being in the servants' quarters would be as transparent as his sexual lust for his Head Cook.

"Of course, My Lord, I know who you are," she said with a smile. If she wasn't pretty enough before she was even prettier when she smiled. A time when most folks, especially commoners had bad teeth, rotting teeth, and/or missing teeth, she was blessed with nice teeth. "Would you like a cup of tea? I'm sorry that I don't have anything stronger than tea. We can speak privately inside while Emily plays outside," said Susan giving her daughter a nod for her to obey.

As his excuse to look longer and longingly at her, he smiled down at her from his high horse.

"I would be delighted to join you for tea. After you," he said climbing down from his horse.

He tied his stallion to a post out front of her modest house. As he walked around the front of his steed, Lord Dudley saw the young girl of six or seven smiling at him in the way her mother was smiling at him too. With mother and daughter looking so much alike, with them so poor and having very little, like so many others trying to eke out a meager living in this day age, they made his heart melt.

With winter coming, he was determined to shelter them in his Manor. Yet, somehow, they had survived five winters without his help. Obviously providing for her even in his death, her husband stocked the farm well enough before he died. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen to his household should he suddenly die. No doubt, his estate would be pillaged by his employees.

Normally a woman alone would never invite a man in her home but he wasn't just any man. He was the Lord of the Manor and the owner of the small plot of land that she farmed and gardened. Even though she tried not to show it by continually smiling at him, she was obviously as nervous as she was taken and surprised by his unexpected visit. Undoubtedly, she had seen him ride by on his horse several times before. Even when her husband was alive and even after his death, as he learned from her later, she dreaded the day he'd visit their plot of land for fear that he'd evict them, yet he never visited her farm until now.

Perhaps, now that he was here, she thought, the day had finally come when he was going to evict her from his land. A widow with a small child, where would she go? With no roof over her head, food to eat, and water to drink, how would she survive? She'd be begging on the streets in the way of so many others. At least here, with food to eat, water to drink, and a roof over their heads, even though the work was hard, she was in charge of her own destiny.

Instead, little did she know that Lord Dudley was there to offer her a position with his household staff. If hired, she'd live there with her daughter where he could enjoy a closer and continual view of Susan's pretty face and her big breasts. Even though he was faithful to his wife and would never dishonored her by cheating on her when she was alive, she was dead and he was free to marry again. Only, too scandalous of an affront, he dared not marry a woman who wasn't a Lady. He dared not marry someone who wasn't in his social class, especially if she was a member of his lowly, household staff.

He could always run away with her and her daughter and go where no one knew them. They could travel Europe together or go to America but he couldn't imagine ever abandoning his home and leaving England. They could always move to Ireland but the Irish were just as hateful of the English as the as the English were hateful of the Irish. Even the Crown didn't give Ireland, Scotland, and Wales the respect that they paid the English.

Allowing her to walk before him, he opened her front door and followed her inside her small house. While having tea in their modest cottage, Lord Dudley noticed a shocking lack of supplies in her household. There was a wooden bowl with some fresh vegetables on the table, but the opened-faced cupboards displayed rows of empty shelves. Compared to his house that was stocked with everything he and his staff needed to survived the winter and longer, it was obvious to him that they lived on whatever she could grow and stockpile. Just chopping and splitting all the wood she needed to stay warm during the winter was a real hardship.

Obviously, with her not a hunter nor a fisherman, with her not having a man, and with her not having money, she couldn't grow meat and fish. She could always slaughter her farm animals but that would be self-defeating because she couldn't afford to buy more chickens, cows, and goats to replace them. Even though she and her daughter looked cleaner than the other rabble in the village who had nothing, she still looked poor. Even when she smiled, something that he had within him that he recognized in her, she looked sad. A reality check, with money having nothing to do with his happiness, and something he commiserated with in her, there was always an eternal sadness when losing a loved way.

"I'm sorry that I don't have any baked goods to give you with your tea, My Lord, but I've been busy in the garden," she said proudly embarrassed.

He could see the embarrassment rise in Susan's face as it flushed red when not having anything to offer her guest, especially a guest of Lord Dudley caliber. He knew she was a proud woman who didn't want him to know that she didn't have the needed ingredients to waste for baking. Obviously, she didn't have the money to buy what she needed to bake pies and cookies. When his kitchen was full with tarts, pastries, cakes, pies, and cookies, he felt bad for her daughter who had to go without something sweet to eat.

"That's okay. I didn't come here for tea and baked goods," he said getting to the point. "Normally, with plenty of people coming to my door for work, I usually don't have to solicit workers but my housekeeper brought you to my attention. I'd rather hire those who I know personally or someone that one of my staff recommends and suggests that I hire," he said pausing to look at her while watching for her reaction.

Obviously by the enlightened look on her face, she knew where he was going with this. When he paused, she spoke.

"Yes, My Lord?" She looked at him with hopefulness while he looked at her with interest. "Have you come to offer me a job in your household?"

He nodded.

"I have. I have an opening in my staff. My chef's assistant died and I need another cook, someone to help the chef prepare the daily meals. The position pays twenty pounds a year. This is your first month's wages and a little something extra to help you move your things from here to my manor. You and your daughter will live in my house with my other servants in the servants' quarters," he said. "I pride myself in giving my household staff, a fair wage with fair treatment, along with dry, safe, and comfortable lodgings."

Not giving her a chance to turn him down, he placed two pounds on her table. She looked at the money as if that was the most money she had ever seen in one place and at one time.

"Other than what I cook for myself and my daughter, I don't have the experience cooking for a large household," she said looking from the money to look at him before looking at the money again.

He shrugged his broad shoulders as if telling her that her lack of experience wasn't important, and to him it wasn't. If he wanted an experienced cook, he could have hired one from the town or from another household. He didn't just want any cook. He wanted her.

No doubt different qualifications for his Head Cook, but as far as he was concerned, he didn't care if she lacked cooking experience. His chef would train her. What was more important was that he wanted her as a member of his staff. He wanted her and her daughter safely sequestered in his house. He wanted to gaze upon her red hair, her freckled, pretty face, and big tits. He wanted his dreams peppered with her sexy, Irish accent.