“You won’t be single long,” all my friends joked after my first wife died.
I think they were just trying to cheer me up, so I would toss back playful answers like, “Well, the kids are too old to need a hot young nanny…”
They would play along, with answers like, “so audition maids willing to look good in the traditional short skirt…”
By which time, my balls would be heavy as I pictured a tight young lass with pert breasts overflowing a cantilevered bodice, bending from the waist to dust a table, her perfect heart shaped ass displayed above stay up black stockings, framed by a frilly mini-slip, but wearing no panties. Mostly that image would be followed by a greater heaviness in my heart as I missed my wife, who had enjoyed playing dress up for me, but never more.
“My luck, I’d get some old Polish Grandma in a babushka,” I’d reply, to end the discussion.
Mostly, someone would add one last joke, like “hey, dentures are sexy… toothless blow jobs.” and we’d all laugh and order another round.
After about a month of widowhood, the joys of drowning my sorrows at the local pub were outweighed by the need to catch up on the work I had neglected. I stopped hanging out and started just staying home – which gave me more opportunity to notice how shabby my house was becoming.
Determined not to fall into the maid fantasies my friends and I had senselessly spun, I sought the anonymity of an agency service. If I did not even know precisely who was cleaning my home, I could hardly fantasize about them, let alone be tempted to do something more extreme. Besides, I rationalized, an agency would do the bonding, reference checks and payroll chores. I could just write a cheque.
Acme Maids seemed no better or worse than Best Maids, or Klean Kastles, or Zenith Janitorial. Simply first in the listings, and someone answered the phone on the second ring. A great start, then they told me an estimator had to visit to “measure me”. A simple two word phrase, and suddenly, prurient images of maids with rulers extracting my erection from my pants exploding in my brain. I must have mumbled something though, because when I hung up, in addition to a throbbing cock, I had a note of an appointment the next day at 11:00.
Acme’s phone had been answered by a young female voice, with a bit of an Island lilt. I was distressed the next morning to wake up to find my cock hard in my hand, my brain undeniably generated uninvited imaginary pictures of the woman – I imagined beaded dreds, lively sparkling eyes, a generous set of lips, a slim young body with perky conical tits, but a big bodacious booty. My brain started flitting between thoughts of those lips sucking my hard cock, my hands filled with those tits, and that ass pressed back against my loins as I fucked her. Shame flooded my mind as quickly as semen filled my palm.
A long hot shower did not cleanse my soul, and I had to reassure myself that the woman likely stayed in the office, and the estimator would no doubt be her wrinkled stooped grandfather, or hulking boyfriend. These thoughts were not particularly effective in taking my mind off forbidden sex, as I found my brain generating images of that imaginary boyfriend and the woman arriving to clean my house, not knowing I was still there. As she cleaned, her body moved gracefully, her booty twitching as she danced to the reggae playing on their battered portable radio. As she reached to dust upper cupboards, her nipples showed hard against the thin, worn fabric of her T-shirt. At her age, she did not need a bra while working. Boyfriend worked vacuuming carpets and wiping counter-tops, but the quality of his work had to be questionable – his eyes never left her dancing beauty. I could hardly complain though, as in my imagination, I suffered the same affliction.
I imagined sneaking close to the doorway into that kitchen, my cock throbbing so hard I had to release it from my pants as her boyfriend equally found her irresistible. His lust, however, he slaked more aggressively, grabbing her hips as they swayed in front of the sink. He kissed the nape of her neck as I hefted my knob in my palm. He nibbled her neck, making her sigh in that sweet sing song voice as I cupped my balls. His strong fingers ran up her sides, cupping those swaying tits, teasing her nipples through the fabric. She clearly liked that, because it was her nimble hands that slid her pants to her knees, freed up his massive cock, and guided it into her waiting ready womb. He came massively inside her after a half dozen thrusts, his fingers now tugging her nipples had enough to make her gasp, her climax matching his explosion.
I opened my eyes and realized that I was the one whose cock was being stroked. My second load of seed of the morning had been sprayed on the wall of my shower. The shame of my thoughts of these multiple taboos – young women, inter racial, voyeurism – flushed my cheeks as I carefully dressed in my baggiest casual clothes.
“Hi, I’m Amy from Acme,” the middle aged woman outside my door casino siteleri said cheerfully. Her hair was a natural grey, cut chin length, no bangs, parted just off center. Her smile was brilliant, her eyes a pale green. She wore no makeup. She did not need it, I decided.
I stood aside as I opened the door and let her step inside, not quite brushing against me.
‘Safe,’ I thought as I took in her baggy sweatshirt and formless sweatpants. My dirty mind did supply a quick impression of a trim waist, and noted that the hips were no wider than the shoulders even though the pants prevented me from checking out the curve of her ass.
The repeated masturbation did not deter my balls from swelling with appreciation of the mental images. My cock though did not throb, until she spun on her heel, looking me in the eye, and pulled out a metal tape measure.
“Time to measure you up,” she said, just as perky as when she had first spoken.
She placed her clipboard on the counter and started extending the tape as my blood flooded into my shaft, my scrotum drew tight to my groin, and my slit started to widen. In that instant, I realized fully for the first time how much I had been missing sex with another person in the same room.
“Should I hold the end for you?” I suggested, instantly regretting even that remote double entendre.
Her grin was the only answer I needed. I placed the open end against a wall and enjoyed watching Amy walk across the living room. She returned and made a note on her chart. We repeated that for the other dimension, and then the kitchen.
“We don’t measure bathrooms,” she said, making notes about the condition of the main floor powder room.
“The bedrooms and full bath are upstairs?” she confirmed.
I just nodded in reply, my voice stuck in my throat.
She stopped to count the stairs and then bounced up the stairs without waiting for me. From that angle, the roomy pants did not disguise the fact that her ass was high and firm. Amy might be middle-aged like me, but she clearly took care of her body.
I cautioned myself to relax, to not fantasize. Amy was just the estimator. No doubt the regular cleaner would be someone much less attractive.
Lost in wonderland, I barely heard Amy asking if I was going to come hold the tape for her. I still do not recall going up the stairs. Amy already had made notes about the bathroom, which was just off the landing.
“The spare bedrooms don’t get used much?” she asked.
“Kids come to visit a couple times a year,” I muttered.
“I’ll mark them for every third visit. If you have company, call Tasha at the office, have her add an hour the visit before and after. No – sorry, you seem like a nice guy – the extra two hours is a money maker I’m supposed to up sell. Tell Tash that Amy said an extra ten minutes per room those visits. That’s really how long it takes. Save you a few bucks.”
I would gladly have paid whatever they charged if Amy would keep grinning at me like she was in that moment, her bright eyes dancing. My half hard cock surged to complete fullness. I ached to ask her to measure it as she held out the tape, swivelling to enter my bedroom.
“Is there an en suite in your room?” she asked over her shoulder. “Or a walk in closet or anything funky like that?”
My sick mind wanted me to ask Amy if she thought a trapeze over the bed was funky. Not that I had one. Sometimes my own imagination shocks me.
The next thing I recall is Amy standing by the end of my bed, holding out her tape measure, waiting for me to grab the end.
“No walk in closet,” I finally replied,”but yes, there is an en suite – I had one of those steam showers built in.”
“Oh, I better have you turn that on,” Amy replied, stretching to measure the width of the room, “if it creates a lot of moisture, we’ll need to pay extra attention to avoid mold.”
We shifted 90 degrees and measured the length of the room as I ran through a dozen bad puns about how turned on I was, or how I wanted to turn Amy on. As we moved, I admired her lithe athleticism, but we never brushed against each other. Just thinking about that possibility though made my weight bulge so much I feared that it might force my sweatpants to drop, and my cock to force itself on display. Or maybe it was the sight of Amy’s pants finally stretched tight across her perfect ass as she bent to place her end of the tape in the corner and jot down a few figures. Almost as if she was presenting her ass to me, like a primate female out to attract a sexual mate.
I gave my head a strong shake side to side to try to knock those silly thoughts out. I knew as soon as Amy left, I would need a good session of self-relief.
“We’ll need to let that steam run for a while to see the effect. How long do you usually go in it?”
Until I come in it, I thought, but dared not say. Many loads of seed had spilled down that drain, the moist heat bathing my fist as it caressed my hard cock.
Amy was staring at me, waiting canlı casino for me to answer.
“I don’t really know. I guess it varies. I sort of lose track of time when I’m in there,” I babbled.
Amy giggled, sounding so girlish for a mature woman, and grinned.
“I bet,” she replied, “not a shower to use if you are in a hurry.”
She reached past me and turned the knob, blasting steam out at full force and heat. Her arm brushed my chest, and her hip nudged mine. As she shut the enclosure and turned toward me, her chest briefly caressed my belly. Glancing down, I saw her eyes looking up at me, and further down, her nipples poked hard against her shirt. Although she had closed the door, enough steam had escaped so that we were very warm.
“You look very handsome when you blush,” Amy teased. “Is there anything else we need to measure while we wait for the steam?”
She held up her tape measure, her eyes never leaving mine. I was hoping that her hand would caress my bulge, silently giving me permission to strip her, but she was not that aggressive. Clearly, measuring customer’s cocks was not something she did every day, or she would know just to tug my pants down – there was not even a zipper to contend with – and whip out my meat. In fact at that instant I was picturing that in my mind, with her falling to her knees and sucking the tip between her willing lips. In reality, there was just an awkward moment of silence.
“Did you look at the bottom of my bed?” I finally mumbled. “Is there enough room for the regular vacuum to reach underneath, or will she need a special attachment?”
“I better check,” Amy agreed, her youthful bounce as she pivoted and skipped the three steps to bedside indicating a return of her natural joyfulness. It also gave me a great view of how the muscles in her posterior worked.
Amy glanced back over her shoulder before bending down and dropping to her knees, as if wanting to make sure that I was watching – like I would be looking anywhere else!
With her calves flat to the floor, Amy lowered her head below the bottom edge of the box spring. I am not sure though whether she really needed to thrust her rump high in the air to do so, but she did. This caused her pants to pull down and her shirt to ride up, offering me a view of the perfect dimple at the base of her spine, just above where her buttocks met, hinting at the valley that ran down between those muscular protrusions. I think I started panting, knowing how the nerves at that spot would react to my tongue.
“I’m not sure, I need to measure I guess,” Amy broke my dream state. “Can you hand me the measure, I think I dropped it on the mattress?”
With my longer legs, it took me only two steps to stand beside where Amy knelt by my feet. I saw the tape measure, picked it up, and bent to hand it to her.
Amy did not reach back for it. Instead she said “Can you help me hold it again?”
Which was ridiculous – she clearly had enough dexterity to manage the device herself to measure that narrow space without my help. My imagination might have supplied the extra lilt in her voice as she said the words “hold it”. My little primitive brain knew what IT wanted held, and was telling my larger human mind to shut up and let the beast within take over.
I dropped to my knees, not flat to the floor like her. This left my groin right at the level of Amy’s face when she lifted her head and turned to take the tape measure. I would swear in a court of law that I did not intentionally hold the measure so close to my body that her fingers grazed along my hardness as she reached to take it from me, but that was still what happened.
Still she did not pursue the situation, turning back to her task.
“Can you get right down here and hold this so I can make a note?” Amy asked.
Silently, I complied, confusion flooding my brain, my cock softening a bit in response. Amy slid away from the bed. I could not see what she was doing, but guessed she was reaching for her clipboard. I fantasized about her hard nipples rubbing against her shirt, her tongue wet along her lower lip as she had her turn to admire my rump. Of course, I was not in anything like the shape Amy was, and I had no way of knowing whether she was checking me out. After she had not bothered to measure my obvious bulge, I had to wonder about her intentions.
“Okay, that’s done – but I still think we need to let the steam build up,” Amy said as she bounced to her feet. “Since you don’t have a chair up here, I guess we can sit on the bed for a few minutes. It does look like a comfy bed.”
“Just right, as Goldilocks might say.”
Amy laughed. “Well, I was blonde in my younger days, but I was never afraid of bears.”
Her dainty feet dangled off the edge of the bed, swaying in the air. I stood, watching her breathe. Her chest rose and fell, her nipples still hard against the fabric. It took me a moment to realize that her eyes were glued to my bulge. Her tongue flicked across her lower lip.
“How kaçak casino come your bulge gets bigger then smaller and now it is getting hard again?” she asked, calmly, like she was asking about room sizes.
“All the time I look at you, I am excited, but some times more than others.”
“Really?” Amy giggled nervously, tossing her hair slightly.
“When I thought you were going to whip my cock right out and measure it, I was ready to come in my pants.”
Amy blushed beautifully.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said in a soft voice, so quietly that even with our faces inches apart, I barely heard her.
I chuckled, however inappropriate that might have been.
“After what I just said I think you can say just about anything.”
Before Amy spoke, she reached her hand out, pushed my pants down and extracted my cock, passing me the tape measure.
“I’m not just a maid, I’m a maiden,” she said as she stroked me to hardness I had never experienced even as a teenager.
“A virgin. I’m a virgin. I have never fucked a man before.”
All the while she was stroking my cock. Seeing I was frozen, she took the tape measure, placed one end at my root and ran it up to the tip.
“Eight and a half – is that big?” she asked. My weight rested on her palm. One of her fingers lazily stroked my balls.
“How can you be a virgin?”
“I was an army brat – not the rebel against my Dad and fuck every guy on the base sort. My Dad was a senior non-com. Everybody was afraid of him. Even the kids in my classes. Then I followed him into the military. Went ROTC, ended up in command positions, so anti-fraternizing regs got in the way.”
“Your hand feels like it knows what it is doing.”
“Since I took early retirement last year, I’ve slowly worked my way through a few guys. I figured out hand jobs by trial and error. Poor guys that got the errors. I recently started trying to give head. That’s how I got this job – Tasha’s uncle runs the company. I blew him.” Amy giggled. “I guess I must have done that okay for a beginner.”
“Clearly you’ve mastered the handiwork part,” I agreed, feeling my slit gaping open and my balls tightening to my groin.”
“But I still haven’t been fucked,” Amy repeated.
I grabbed a handful of her hair and drew her lips to mine. The kiss was filled with passion, tongues twirling together.
When we finally broke for air, I said, “I’m ready to solve that problem if you are.”
“Honey, you have no idea how ready I am,” Amy breathed. “Time to check out that shower.”
She stripped as she skipped from the bedroom to the shower, her clothes a trail of bread crumbs. I quickly followed.
The stall was just big enough for two people. As I stepped in, I did what every red blooded male would do – I reached for her tits. Amy however swatted my hands away.
“What are you doing?”
” You have such great puffy nipples, and they stand so proud on your chest, I need to suck them.”
“I’m glad that you like them. I always think my chest is too small. But first, I need your cock.”
As Amy spoke, she had resumed stroking my length. The shower had a built in bench, which was right behind her so she sat there. The tip of my cock was just below her chin. Bobbing her head down, Amy teased the slit with her tongue.
“I can taste you – are you ready to cum already?”
“No that’s just precum, lubricant for sex, a sign of how excited I am.”
“I love the taste. May I please have more sir?
Amy did not need to wait for my reply. She grasped my cock firmly at the base, and ducked down so that her tongue could explore my nut sack. She rolled each ball in her cheeks. Then she ran her flattened tongue up the underside of my shaft. Slowly, she licked all around the ridge at the base of my helmet, just like a little girl packing an ice cream cone. Only then did she raise up enough to plunge her mouth down over the tip. This time there was no playful hesitation. Amy deep throated me, her nose nestling in my pubes. She batted my cock from side to side in her mouth using her tongue.
“Where did you learn that?” I had to ask.
“I’ve watched a lot of porn,” Amy gasped for air. “A virgin needs to do something to get herself off. And I guess that my army training means they served like training videos – you know, watch one, do one…”
Mentally completing the saying, I wondered who she would like to teach one to, but first, I reasoned with what little sense I had left, I better make sure she did not remain a virgin for long. There I was, about to have my first woman in what seemed like forever, and I was thinking about two tongues on my cock. The image made jizz spurt into the air.
“Oh, better not waste any more of that,” Amy laughed, just before she lowered her mouth again to swallow my fatness, her fist pumping my shaft. I felt another burst of seed exploding into the back of her throat, but her fingers tightened around the root, acting like a fleshy cock ring.
“You taste terrific,” Amy said, grinning up at me, her tongue licking the sheen of sperm off her lower lip. “I could suck you for hours, but I don’t want you dry – I want you to fuck me now.” She stood as she spoke.