Barbra Beard - Au Pair Girl

The early morning air, lightly scented with apple blossom from the nearby orchards, wafted pleasantly through the open window. A mild spring breeze was blowing from the Surrey Downs and it caught the upper branches and leaves of an overhanging pear tree, making them slither softly at the pane The ripening foliage brushed and tapped against the glass, creating a rustling murmur in the room.

The girl stirred languidly, stretching herself reluctantly into wakefulness. As her arms lifted, the single pink sheet which covered her fell away from her breasts. The cool air played on the bare white globes, raising goose-pimples on the delicate skin.

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking at the bright morning light which now flooded into the room. Her nipples felt itchy and large: the sudden change in temperature had caused them to harden instinctively and stiffen into a tight rosiness. The girl smiled to herself, her hands slipping over her breasts and giving them a brief but possessive fondling.

She sighed, wishing for a moment that she could snuggle down in the bed again and let her fingers roam dreamily over her body But in a few moments she knew the alarm would begin to shrill and it would be time to dress and prepare breakfast.

Monique released her breasts regretfully and threw the sheet back. She jumped quickly out of the warm bed and snatched up her robe. Tying it tightly around her waist so that the shot-silk garment clung sveltely to her curves, the girl crossed to the window.

She breathed the crisp, clean air gratefully, drawing it deeply into her lungs, feeling the fumes of sleep being quickly banished. She looked out across the green English countryside at the chequer board of ploughed fields alternating with the neat squares of distant meadows. The view was comforting; it gave her a strong feeling of serenity and peace, assuring her that spring would always return, that the renewal of life was constant and permanent, and that her own youth and beauty were eternal.

Monique pushed the window open a little wider. The sky was light blue, a few fluffy clouds scudded lazily overhead. Cattle grazed on the verdant grass and a cock started to crow, heralding the new day loudly and boastfully. The girl stood at the window for several minutes, lost in sweet contemplation of the tranquil landscape which stretched as far as the eye could see.

She had repeated this ritual daily since the first morning she'd arrived at the Camerons' house, but it never failed to fill her with renewed delight and pleasure. Regularly, she awoke before her alarm sounded and spent these few precious minutes staring out at the panoramic expanse of countryside.

It seemed to still the frequent pangs of homesickness which overwhelmed her whenever she was alone in the house. Not that these periods of loneliness lasted very long: Jean Cameron was in the house with her nearly all day and even when the couple went out in the evenings she had the television and radio to keep her company.

But early in the mornings and at night when she went to her room, Monique would feel a sharp yearning to be with her own relations again and to breathe the air of her beloved France. When this longing became so intense that it threatened to overwhelm her completely, she would stand before this open window and stare out at the rural scenery which was so reminiscent of her provincial home town.

The view served not only to remind her of France. It enabled her to slip into a sweet reverie in which she pretended to herself that this really was France that she was home again, speaking her own language, once more living among her own people

Monique smiled at the way she dramatised the situation. It was a bit melodramatic to have feelings like this especially as she'd only been in England for three weeks! And in another three weeks she would be going home anyway!

Still, this vacation was her very first trip abroad and, after all, she was only 18 and a rather sensitive, imaginative girl. Although the Camerons had done everything possible to make her feel at home, Monique was glad that she was kept busy during most of the day. The household chores helped to occupy her mind and stop her thoughts from straying towards her loneliness the loneliness which gnawed just below the surface of her mind.

She jumped, jolted out of her day-dreaming by the sharp, insistent jangling of the alarm clock. Quickly, Monique switched it off and started to make her bed. In a few moments the sheet was tucked in and the eiderdown was smoothed neatly over it.

Monique opened the door softly (Mr. and Mrs. Cameron wouldn't be awake for another fifteen minutes) and tip-toed to the bathroom down the hall. She turned the key in the lock, ran the water and washed her hands and face. While her bath was filling, she brushed her teeth, having to wipe the mirror free of the steam which was rapidly spreading over the glass.

She hung her robe on the hook behind the door, pausing before she stepped into the bath to admire the shapeliness of her young body. The reflection was half-obscured by the rising steam, but this only served to enhance the lovely vision: Monique's figure was blurred and partly concealed, shadowy and mysterious under its blanket of condensed air.

The girl stretched up on her toes, just able to see the dark patch of hair around her crotch in the half-length mirror. Impulsively, Monique gave the glass a thorough wipe then stepped back again. She could now see herself clearly though the mirror was beginning to cloud over already.

Her nipples were still taut and ripe, thrusting from the centre of her breasts with a hard, pearllike prominence. Monique touched them lightly, rubbing the sensitive buttons with the tips of her fingers.

They tingled sweetly, stiffening into an even firmer and harder rigidity. Dreamily, the girl passed her hands beneath her breasts, raising the white mounds and keeping her fingertips on her nipples. She rolled them slightly, letting her fingers press into the soft and supple flesh.

Gradually, the steam rose to obscure the mirror again and Monique moved away from it. She climbed into the bath and let the hot water cover her body completely, sinking down until the caressing warmth lapped around her neck. Before she soaped herself, Monique liked to spend a few moments luxuriating in the sensuous feel of the water around her. She opened her legs, letting the suds envelop her sex feeling the scented water steal between the parted lips of her cunt and seep into her body.

Her chin resting on the surface of the water, Monique returned her hands to her breasts. They felt even softer and smoother beneath the warm water, the flesh delicate and gentle. She stroked and fondled them with careful movements of her fingers, giving her breasts only the lightest of touches only the most tender of caresses.

The girl's eyes closed in a sweet ecstasy as she felt how tremendously large her nipples had grown. As if she was exploring teats that were strangers to her fingers, Monique cautiously squeezed the buds between her thumbs and forefingers. She increased the pressure very gradually, slowly nipping the hard buds until a sensation of pleasant pain began to spread out from her breasts, enveloping her entire body in a sweet but urgent delight.

Her eyes opened a little and she looked down at herself, at the clever way in which her hands were bringing her pleasure. They seemed to be the strangers now massaging fingers which belonged to a daring and extremely bold girl who had climbed into the bath with her and was, completely against her will, playing expertly with her breasts and nipples.

Powerless to intervene, Monique watched helplessly as her titties were turned this way and that; lifted almost out of the water so that the nipples were clearly visible, then modestly lowered beneath the surface again. She saw them being pressed firmly together, the warm globes rubbing fleshily against each other. She felt her nipples perking up under the ceaseless touching of the clever fingers, itching furiously now begging to be released yet longing for the caress to continue