My Housekeeper - Sex Stories

My Housekeeper

... tank top, completely unselfconscious about her cleavage and no bra. She did not have large pendulous breasts but ample. Okay, beautiful breasts, perfect size, that tempted the stare of a tit man. (Yes, that was me.) She was slightly broader at the hips than her shoulders. I noticed some inconspicuous tattoos and a bracelet on her left ankle.

She suggested she come in every other week, on a predictable schedule. She quoted me a price which, by my quick mental calculation, was over 50% more than I'd paid Maureen. And she told me she'd only work for two hours but that she'd accomplish more in two hours than most housekeepers do in four. She had a lot of moxie. I was a little nervous about the pay and work hours. But she impressed me with her attitude, confidence and professionalism. We had a deal.

She quickly won me over with her competence. She worked extraordinarily hard and fast. It tired me just witnessing her pace. No messing around. Energetic and purposeful in all she did. The place looked great. And she filled me in on things that would need attention in the near future and further on down the line. Just what I'd hoped for.

When I was home, which was most of the time (working part-time, remotely), I'd park it in the downstairs bedroom while she'd begin her workday in my upstairs office. Once that was done, she'd call to me and that's where I'd go, into the cleaned office, shutting the door behind me to work, read, listen to music or play on the computer until ...

... she was done for the day. It got me out of the way.

When she finished, she'd tap on my office door or call out and announce that she was done. She'd give me a quick overview of the place, what she'd been working on, what she'd be doing in the future. As she became more familiar with me, she began to make a few observations and pose questions about my lifestyle, in a friendly kind of way. She was curious about my music room, remarked on the kinds of reading material she saw in the bookshelves (she pegged me for an intellectual/academic), noticed the well-stocked liquor cabinet and wine rack, and chuckled about an ashtray and marijuana pipe with its accessories, clearly left out in the open. She laughed that I appeared way straighter than I actually was. I remember she said, "I'll bet naughty waters run deep." I forgave the mix-up of metaphors as my ears perked up spontaneously.

We got to know each other well enough that it was comfortable for either of us to drop the f-bomb and other salty language. After a cleaning report, over time and greater familiarity, she began to share family stuff. Personal history. Funny life stories.

Every time we spoke I had to exercise great discipline not to peek down her blouse / tee shirt. I mean, like I said, she had great tits, never wore a bra and seemed to think nothing of revealing some cleavage. Gawd, I scolded myself and tried to refrain. But it's as though my eyes had wills of their own and I know she caught me peeking several ...