My Guatemalan Housekeeper Girl

A middle-aged bachelor hires an exotic teenage girl to do his household chores. He learns she is famous at her high school for performing more erotic feats.

Part One

As a self-employed, 45-year-old bachelor living alone in Canada in 1990, I enjoyed the freedom to come and go as I pleased, to stay up as late as I desired, to eat meals whenever I felt like it, and to generally live my life entirely the way I wanted. Of course, I also fell into the typical male problem of being lax with household chores. I did not mind the drudgery of doing dishes or the laundry, but I generally didn’t keep my home as tidy as it should always be. For example, I seldom dusted. Newspapers and flyers would rapidly pile up on tables and chairs. My tile floors and countertops would not be scrubbed very often. You likely get the picture. Therefore, when the opportunity came to solve this shortcoming of mine as a homeowner very cheaply, I gladly leapt at it.

About two years earlier, a family that had emigrated from Guatemala moved into my neighborhood. From what I could see, the Garcia family consisted of a married couple in their thirties and their three children. To their credit, they did their best to assimilate into their new country. They learned English by conversing with their neighbors and by attending ESL night classes as a family. They embraced Canadian culture by celebrating the various holidays and observances just like everyone else on the block. All in all, they were just generally good folks. As they never caused any problems, no one could honestly say anything negative about the Garcias. However, neither parent seemed to have the skills for high-paying jobs. Both of them worked doing manual labor of some sort. Nevertheless, they seemed pleased and content with their lives. I supposed they were happy to be in Canada rather than Guatemala.

One day when I happened to be looking out the window, I saw their oldest child, a girl of about 17 or 18, approach the door and drop a leaflet into my mailbox. Curious, I went outside and collected it. It was a hand-written advertisement; I assumed it had probably been penned by the girl herself. It said, “Need housekeeping work done? Cleaning, washing, laundry, etc. I can do it for you! Just $8 per hour. Phone Martina Garcia at the number below.”

I knew a typical part-time housekeeper in 1990 would charge at least twice as much, so I immediately recognized a bargain when I saw it. The Garcia girl was busily and efficiently going house by house down the street with her adverts, so I walked out my door and intercepted her about half a block from my home.
I had never formally met any of the Garcia children before; I had only conversed with the parents on a few occasions. Being a typical, observant male, I noticed she was a pretty, busty thing with slightly dark features that made her seem somewhat exotic. She was a real cutie!

Holding the leaflet I had received, I asked her, “Are you Martina Garcia?” When she affirmed that she was, I introduced myself as Kevin Fitzgerald, the homeowner at 25 Maple Tree Crescent. “I read your leaflet. I would like to hire you to help me with my cleaning. Can you start soon?” She was thrilled that one of her adverts had already produced a positive result. “Yes! You be my first customer, Mr. Kevin!” she excitedly exclaimed in slightly broken English.

Martina took my “as soon as possible” comment very literally. She knocked on my door less than an hour later. I told her I wanted the tile floors and both kitchen and bathroom counters cleaned. I got the necessary supplies for her to do those tasks—and away she went. I watched her only for a few minutes. I could tell that Martina was quite diligent about doing a good job. I had hired a gem of a worker.

About 90 minutes after she began, she had been thoroughly efficient with those assigned tasks—plus she found a few other helpful things to do as well. It was the best those areas of the house had looked in years—at it had cost me a mere $12. When I happily handed her $15 in cash, she said she had no change. I told her the $15 included a $3 tip. Martina didn’t quite understand what “a tip” meant, but when I tried other words like “bonus” and “gift”, the meaning finally sunk in. She was thrilled by the overpayment. “Oh, Mr. Kevin that is very kind and generous of you!” she said. “When should I come again?” I told her she could return the same time the next day and do some dusting and whatever else I might think of between now and then. Martina happily scampered out the front door and headed quickly down the street to her house clutching the money she had earned.

I was about the shut the door when I saw my neighbor from across the street, Ron Monroe, another bachelor about my age, walking toward me. He had a broad smile on his face. It looked like he was trying to suppress a laugh.

I invited Ron inside to find out what he wanted. He wasted no time. “Was that Martina Garcia I saw leaving your house?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “I hired her to do some housekeeping for me. Did you get one of her leaflets?” I showed him mine. “The price is right and she did an excellent job, as you can see.” I pointed to various spotless areas in my clean kitchen as evidence.

“Oh, you hired her as a housekeeper!” he said with a chuckle. “From what I’ve heard, she has other marvelous talents as well.”

Puzzled, I asked him, “What do you mean by that?”

“Let’s put it this way,” Ron stated, “I have it on very good authority that Martina’s nickname at her school is ‘the Guatemalan Titty Girl.’”

I was incredulous. “The what?” I asked.

“You heard it right, Kevin,” he said. “Martina Garcia is called ‘the Guatemalan Titty Girl’—at least that’s what she is known as by the boys she services there.”

I sat down on my favorite living room chair with a thump. “Have a seat, Ron,” I told him. “You’re going to have to explain this to me.”

“Gladly, my friend,” he said. Ron went on to explain that his nephew, Peter, attended the same, nearby high school as did Martina. One day when Peter was visiting, he saw Martina through the window, walking down the street. Peter said, “Hey, Uncle Ron! You know who that is? She goes to my school. All the boys call her the Guatemalan Titty Girl.”

Ron continued the story, “When I asked Peter how she had acquired such an unflattering nickname, he said that Martina was a very enterprising coquet who decided to profit from her womanly charms when she began to blossom. She let it be known to a few older boys who liked looking at her growing breasts that, once school was dismissed, if they went to the secluded wooded area adjacent to the school property, she’d be there. She’d give them a look at her naked chest—and they could do other things with her young tits, too. All her services could only be acquired for a price, of course. She even created a list of her special services. Just looking at her tits for a minute or two cost $1. Fondling them for the same time cost $2. Sucking on them cost $3. Doing a titty fuck with them cost $5. Apparently, on that first day two boys were curious enough to show up. They must have been satisfied customers because the word about Martina’s unique business circulated in a hurry. According to Peter, the next day eight schoolboys were in line for some fun. The following day Martina had more than a dozen customers to service. To accommodate her growing clientele, she also made herself available early in the mornings before school started. Peter says Martina doesn’t offer any other sexual services, only those fun activities featuring her beautiful breasts. Thus, her nickname. She’s been making boys happy at my nephew’s school for about a year and a half now.”

I just shook my head. It was not in disbelief of what Ron had just told me—I accepted every word he said as gospel—but that a foreign girl new to Canada could come up with such a successful money-making scheme. Out of curiosity I had to ask him, “Ron, is your nephew one of Martina’s clients?”

“I think the Guatemalan Titty Girl ends up with a lot of Peter’s disposable income each month,” Ron replied with a grin. “He takes after his favorite uncle.” Then he said, “When I saw Martina leave your house, I wondered if she had dropped by to perform her $5 service on you. I hadn’t seen her leaflet about housekeeping. It’s likely sitting in my mailbox. With school out for the summer, Martina’s probably taken up housekeeping as an offseason job until she can get back to the occupation she does best.”

I paused for a moment, then I commented, “Ron, Martina did excellent work for me today. If she is better at her other job, I completely understand why so many horny, teenage males at that school seek her sexual services. Heck, if I were one of them, I’d probably show up with a $5 bill every once in a while, too.”

“Is she going to do more housekeeping for you?” Ron asked me.

“I told her to come back tomorrow, and I’d find a few things for her to do,” I replied.

Ron patted me on the shoulder and joked, “One of those things for her to do might be you, my friend!”

That comment was said in a light-hearted way, but I seriously wondered if Ron was correct.

Part Two

Martina cheerfully arrived as scheduled to do more work for me the next day. I was waiting for her at the door. I warmly greeted her. Then I handed her the proper supplies to give the entire house a thorough dusting. When that task was complete, I told Martina she could do whatever cleaning and tidying work she could find to occupy herself for two full hours. Like the day before, Martina’s work was impeccable. When she had completed her work, she said I owed her $16 for 120 minutes of her best cleaning. I confused her by putting a $20 bill and a $5 bill on the kitchen table. “All for me?” she asked hopefully.

The $20 is for the cleaning and dusting. You did a great job, Martina, just like yesterday, so I’m giving you a $4 tip.

“Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Kevin,” she said. “That is very nice of you to pay me extra.” Then she paused, pointed at the fiver, and asked, “What is that money for?”

For reasons I don’t know, I dropped my voice almost to a whisper. Maybe I was ashamed of what I was going to say next, but I said it anyway. “Martina, I understand you provide a special service for the boys at your school for $5,” I began. “I want you to give me that same service right now, my dear girl.”

I had no idea what her reaction would be. I figured it would be either a total denial of her sexual services or she would be outraged and storm out of my house, never to return again. It was neither. She was delighted to do what she apparently did best. Of course, I was more than pleased by her attitude about performing casual sex acts.

“Mr. Kevin!” she said with surprising enthusiasm and not a hint of shame. “You know all about my $5 titty fucks! How did you know? Who told you?”

“That’s not important, really.” I stated. “Honestly, Martina, I’d rather not say. But will you give me the special $5 service before you leave?”

“Sure! Right now! Of course! I’ll make your dick happy for $5.”

Without further ado, Martina removed her plain green t-shirt. Underneath was a bra that cupped and lifted her attributes quite nicely given her petite stature. Without being prompted, for some reason she told me, “Mr. Kevin, I started wearing the bra when I was 11 because my titties grew so nicely. Before then, I wore no bra. Now mother says I must wear it all the time to be a good girl.” Mom was right: At age 18, Martina had a voluptuous figure.

I paused for a moment or two before I boldly inquired, “Does your mother know what you do with the boys at school?”

“Oh, yes. She is pleased about it. The money I make helps out with our household expenses,” Martina happily confessed. “When we need extra money, mother does fucky-fucky with horny gentlemen who pay her for sex. Me, I don’t do that—at least not yet. Mother says no sex for me until I am 19. Titty fucks are okay though because boys don’t put their penises inside me.”

I was trying to process the remarkable statement from this amoral girl when Martina got me refocused on what I had paid her to do. She undid the clasp of her bra and it fell softly to the floor. Her breasts were quite lovely indeed. They were firm and totally fuckable. I would put them to the test. “Pull down your pants, Mr. Kevin, so you can do a titty fuck with me. You will like it, I’m sure. All the boys at my school who pay me have a fun time. They are always happy at the end.”
“Uh…yeah. I guess I need to do that,” I said, referring to dropping my drawers. “By the way, how old are you, Martina?”
“I am 18 years old right now, but I will have my nineteenth birthday in just four days. Then I will be a big girl and mother will permit me to do fucky-fucky down here to earn money.” Martina smiled charmingly as she pointed at her crotch.

I quickly took off my trousers and my briefs. I was surprised to realize I already was sporting a massive erection. “Oh, you have a big penis, Mr. Kevin,” Martina assured me. “It is so much bigger than the dicks of most of the boys in my school.” I was truly thankful for that blunt assessment of my adult-sized manhood.

As this was clearly Martina’s bailiwick, I let the professional sex worker in the room take complete charge of the subsequent activities. Martina lightly and lovingly stroked my dick, alternating hands while doing so. She also massaged my testicles superbly. “Many boys come when I play with their balls, Mr. Kevin. My mother told me to do that when I first started.” I had no doubt Martina was telling me the truth. She then skillfully moved into position for me to place my penis between her burgeoning breasts. “For the $5 payment, you get my full service, Mr. Kevin,” Martina informed me. “You can play with my titties and suck on them too before you fuck them. That is permitted.”

I wanted to get my money’s worth, so I happily fondled this sexy girl’s perky bosoms. They were wonderful things to caress. Martina smiled at me and commented, “You do that so nice, Mr. Kevin. Some boys are too rough with them! You make me horny. Look, my nipples are so hard from what you do!”

Indeed, her sexy nipples were wonderfully protruding. I knelt down in front of her so I could suck on them. That got my penis even harder. I probably licked and sucked her young treasures for more than five minutes before Martina put a time limit on me. “It’s time for the titty fuck, Mr. Kevin,” she informed me. “Time for your dick to shoot its cum on me.” I smiled at her knowingly. Little Martina Garcia, age 18, had obvious experience in how to finish off her paying customers in a timely manner.

We both stood up for the grand finale. Our difference in height made a titty fuck an ideal sex act for the two of us. I positioned my throbbing member between Martina’s precious tits. Martina, of course, was no rookie at this. Like the true pro she was, she squeezed her lovely, youthful breasts around my dick to make my thrusts more sensual. After about a minute, the inevitable eruption came. I groaned gleefully as I shot a huge load of goo, in several lustful spurts, onto Martina’s sexy chest—and a little bit higher. Part of one powerful blast ended up dangling from her left ear.

“You came! It was so good, Mr. Kevin,” Martina contentedly stated. That comment was probably rehearsed and insincere, as was, “Thank you for shooting your cum on me, Mr. Kevin. I liked our titty fuck very much.” I was tempted to passionately kiss her, but I wasn’t sure that was included as part of her terrific $5 service.

I told Martina she could clean herself up in the washroom located down the hall. When she emerged, I raved that her services—housecleaning and otherwise—were simply marvelous. I eagerly made arrangements with Martina for future housekeeping dates and times. As she was about to leave, I said to her, “When you turn 19 next week, I want to be your first fucky-fucky customer, okay?”

“Okay, Mr. Kevin! Yes, you may! I like that idea!” she responded very enthusiastically. This girl was certainly something beyond ordinary!

Martina collected her well-earned $25. I opened the front door for her, and she headed home, sporting a fully satisfied look on her pretty, youthful face. I stood on my porch for a while, watching this fascinating, 18-year-old Guatemalan girl with no morals whatsoever get smaller and smaller in the distance. I then noticed that Ron Monroe was standing in his front yard. I shouted the answer to his obvious question without him having to ask it.

“Yes, Ron, I got the premium service from Martina. That was the best $5 I ever spent in my life!”