The doorbell rings and I'm still in bed, sleepy and lazing, enjoying the cool breeze of the ceiling fan above my bed and the softness of my sheets. Sprawled out in my king size bed, naked, I realize that the annoying sound I'm hearing is forcing me to wake up and start my day.
I quickly pull on a pair of black cotton drawstring pants, no panties. I throw a pale, chartreuse top on figuring that the bra can come later, once I've gotten the caller to go away.
Approaching the door, I see the silhouette of a well chiseled male thru my beveled glass. I open the door to find the most handsome upholstery cleaner I ever saw (which is an unexpected surprise, to say the least). Suddenly, I am disappointed by my inability to wake earlier to ready myself for this stud of a house calling furniture cleaner.
I let him in, smelling his cologne as it wafts by me, admiring his ass as it passes by me, biting my lip in lustful hunger. I never thought dark green khakis could ever look so good on a man, and I was right. They'd look much better balled up onto the floor with his creamy thighs spread while I service him.
So I show him the items that need evaluating. Normally I would leave him to get "more decent," but I decide that indecent might be the way to go. While he drags his "equipment" in, I change into a snug white camisole with spaghetti straps and some shorts....keeping with my minimal undergarment precedent.
He's bent over my sofa, turning cushions up as I sit on the chair across from him, lusting his firm, round ass that would look so good in my hands while my tongue french kisses that ass....
I wait for him to turn around and discover the small spot on the ottoman, which is at my feet....and my feet, are strategically placed at the widest sides of the ottoman, ass slid to the edge of the chair. He can't help but blush as he bends down to review the stain on the cushion. He smiles up at me as he sinks to his knees like a peasant before his queen. His beautiful, large hands grip the cushion as his head lowers for a more keen view, analyzing the fabric, the weave, the toes painted in salmon pink, the calves, the thighs that are spread wide open before him and the shorts that gap at the leghole, allowing him to see that he's not here for a "rug" cleaning.
He swallows hard as I ask him what he thinks....and if he can take care of, IT. Licking his lips, he turns his head to me and responds with a soft, almost shy "yes."
I'm becoming wet as I watch his mop of short hair bobbing around between my legs. He is doing a great job of looking interested in that ottoman. I decide it's time to take matters into my own hands.
I lift my right thigh over his head, without warning, so he can't even pull back. My flesh grazes his hair as I lift over and slither to the base of the chair, sliding off the seat. He's obviously uncomfortable with such overt behavior yet he doesn't move. I get on my knees behind him, between his knees. Reaching up under his arms, which are still embracing my ottoman, I begin to undo his shirt buttons. I kiss the back of his neck softly. He doesn't ask what I'm doing. He just lets out a small moan and his body shudders slightly, in disbelief.
