When Eric got down to his panties his client said, "Hold on. I like you in those. You can clean for me like that."
Then the man held out an upturned hand and gave Eric a fondle. "Nice. Silky. Where do you get panties like that?"
"My wife buys 'em for me," Eric replied.
"Your wife? You married? To a woman?" the man added after a pause.
Eric nodded.
"No shit," the astonished man said. "She know you do this?"
"Clean houses?"
"For other men? In the nude? Or...," caressing Eric's cock now through the flowery microfiber, "...in your cute little panties?"
Eric nodded again. He was smiling. It felt good, the hand's caresses. "She encourages me," Eric replied. He went on: "We both got furloughed because of the pandemic. Then our benefits ran out. We need the money," he explained. "My wife seems to think I have a nice body, so..."
"You do. Great legs. Very sexy," the man said in praise. He'd gone back to fondling Eric's medium-sized balls. Like the rest of his slender body, aside from the thinning mop atop his head, that is, they were shaved. As smooth and soft on the inside as they felt on the outside, to an exploring hand.
"My wife says I have the legs of a girl model," Eric smiled.
"You do. They go on forever. Very sexy," he repeated. "Does your wife clean house for men, too?"
"No," Eric laughed, softly. "She does temp work out of our home—when she can get it. It's all that's available right now. You can't even get a job as a waitress these days."
"No," the man absently agreed. At the moment he seemed preoccupied with the soft and silky feel of Eric's genitals in the microfiber. "So she encourages you to go out and be with other men?"
"Work for them, yeah."
"But it's not just housework, hon. You're nude, or nearly so. And there's the part about the complimentary blowjob..."
"Oh, sure," Eric smiled. "I'll suck you when you're ready."
"Do you ever get hard?" the hand having returned to its up-and-down caresses over the narrow vee front.
"S-Sure," Eric stammered. "I'm a little nervous..."
"Don't be."
"It's just at first. I'll be fine," Eric informed his latest client.
"So your wife," the man stated. "She's kind of your pimp?"
"What? No, I wouldn't call her that," Eric said emphatically.
"What would you call it then?"
Eric had no immediate answer. And yes, he was finally starting to get hard. It was as if the man's query about it had been a trigger.
"She buys you your little panties," the man said, filling in his own blanks. "She encourages you to go out and clean in the nude for other men. She must know what all goes on."
"She does," Eric blurted—as if in his own defense.
"The money. You turn it over to her when you get home?"
"Pretty much," Eric admitted.
"There you go then, hon. She's your pimp and you're her little whore. Not that you're so little anymore," the man noted with a smile, glancing down at his massaging hand.
"You stay hard when you're getting fucked?" he went on to ask.
"Well..."
"Turn around, sweetie."
Eric obeyed. He wasn't sorry to leave the man's pleasure-hand behind. He didn't want to cum prematurely, as was his wont, and promptly lose interest in everything, and spend the rest of the three hours going through the motions, pretending. There's nothing worse than having to suck a man's cock, regardless of shape or size or desirability, when your own mojo has abandoned you. A mixture of disinterest and guilt having filled in the void.
Eric's client, still fully dressed, now pressed against him from behind. "Can't wait," the man hissed, "to fuck this sweet ass. Pull these little panties down and...fuck you!"
The man began to kiss Eric's neck behind his left ear. While Eric struggled to work up the courage to say, to not-say, "Well, you know that's gonna be an additional forty. Forty on top of the sixty for the three hours of cleaning. Forty for the fuck. A hundred total. Remember? We talked about it on the phone? You're welcome to fuck me but...it's extra, OK? Remember? An enhanced, uh, service?"
Eric's client filled in the silence with actual words: "The Viagra should kick in any minute now. Can you feel it? You will in a minute. I'm gonna yank these panties down and fuck your sweet ass, shoot my load in you. I've been saving it up. A whole week's worth...
"You had the vaccine?" the man abruptly asked.
Valerie had that just-fucked look about her. That pinkish glow. This working from home gig paid one dividend: while husband Eric was out cleaning men's houses, meaning he'd be gone three and half, four hours, she could send Paul a text and he'd be johnny on the spot: over at her place in thirty minutes or less. That left a lot of time for fucking, and Paul, a stud in his early thirties, was certainly up to it.
"How'd it go, hon?" she asked Eric, the moment he walked in the door.
"Fine. Was Paul here?"
"A while ago."
"And how did that go?"
"How do you think? I asked you first."
Eric fished in his pants pocket and handed over two wadded twenties and a five. At which Valerie frowned. "What's this?"
"It's what's left."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means I stopped off at Rudy's for a burger and a beer. I was hungry. Thirsty."
Valerie's frown lines had deepened as she listened to her husband and fingered the wrinkled money. "You mean...? I'm sitting here eating a cheese sandwich for lunch while you're out treating yourself to—"
"You didn't just finish three hours of manual labor, Val."
"Oh, sure!" Valerie said mockingly, her plump body rotating slightly as her free hand crashed against the outside of a thigh. "All that heavy lifting!" she went on, in the same tone. "Dusting, polishing..."
"I did a lot more than dust and polish."
Valerie stopped and stared. "Like what, Eric?"
He shrugged.
"I hope you didn't do anything more'n clean for this guy?"
Another shrug. This one half-hearted. "I sucked his cock..."
