I Am Lilly Rose: This is My Story - Sex Stories

I Am Lilly Rose: This is My Story

... park. They were darling little girls, both blond and blue-eyed like their mother had been, or so Mrs. Mazzeti told me and Mama. They were one year apart at seven and eight years of age, Ingrid being the eldest. So far as I could tell, they liked me. We always had a grand time on our little walks. When Mama came home, I told her what Mrs. Mazzeti had said about the chance to work for Mr. Gross. "Lilly, that would be very good for us. We need the income, it's right next door, and I know he likes you because of how his little girls respond to you. They love you and need a woman around to help them grow up." "Could we go see him, Mama, tonight? Mrs. Mazetti said he needed help now since his job is going to require more overnight travel. He can't leave the girls," I said. "Yes, child. We'll see if he can use your help and what he expects." Neither Mama nor I had any way of knowing just what Mr. Gross did expect from me. What came about wasn't planned; it wasn't anything he asked me to do for the girls or the house. It was the opening of doors I never knew could be, for a woman like me. He brought me love and the gift of lasting devotion. ooo The summer flew by as I settled into a routine at Mr. Gross' house. Gerta and Ingrid became almost like my little girls. We talked and read books together; we laughed and joked until we were out of breath. The girls were a very great help in the house. They assisted with the cleaning and laundry. I taught them how to cook Italian dishes. ...

... Their reading and writing improved to the point where they could write little love notes to their daddy and stories about themselves. He would receive them with great formality, read them and then sit with a straight face until one or the other of them badgered him into commenting. Then he would laugh and pull them both onto his lap and read their stories back to them. It seemed to please him extraordinarily so. Mr. Gross may have yearned for Wiener Schnitzel and Spätzle, but he suffered through antipasto, Lasagna, home-baked bread and cannoli. He did so with a smile and an obvious note of happiness in the demeanor of his beloved girls who sat at table with bibs covered with tomato sauce. After such meals, Gerta and Ingrid would clear the table and bring Papa his coffee and cigar, much to his delight. As Fall approached, Mama and I decided that I would not continue with secondary school. In those days, few young women did since so many married early and bore children well before their twentieth birthdays. I was happy with my situation and the extra money it brought in to help my hard-working mother so that it seemed like no loss at all. On the first day of September, I told Mr. Gross of the decision. "Lily, are you certain? Education is so important," he said with the charming German accent that he would never lose. "Young women who have completed such schooling are more in demand for office positions now. Business is improving, and firms are expanding again." "Yes, Sir, Mama and ...