Steamy Cleaning Service

You didn't really need it, but the small portable clothes steamer showed up in your Amazon suggestions and before you knew it, it was in your basket. You never had much willpower. When it arrived you pulled a wrinkled shirt out of the clothes basket and steaming it smooth. Impressive. You had a few drinks that evening, and as you were getting ready for bed, just wearing a shirt and panties, you picked up the steamer again and caught yourself in the mirror. You held the steamer across your body like a gun, James Bond pose. "Anything need cleaning today sir?" You had seen the pink vans parked on the streets of LA advertising topless maids, and it got you thinking. Hmm. drink fueled brain, let's do this. The old joke - "What's the best thing to come out of a penis? - Wrinkles." Can use that somehow. No sex though, no touching either, just titillation. You could earn a little money on the side, but that wasn't your main motivation. You were always an exhibitionist, and this would be your outlet.

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Ring on the doorbell, older man answers. Looks ok, normal, that's all you are looking for here. You did your research, so you don't tend to get surprised. TV on loud in the background. Football. Bag of chips and beer on the table. You smile and hold up your bag enticingly. "'So Wrinkly' at your service! Need some clothes steamed?" His eyes walk your body although you are just in regular clothes - for now. Promises for what is to come though. He says nothing and stands aside as you walk in. "Bathroom?" He points and you go in. Not that clean, but it will do. There won't be much steaming happening this evening, let alone any cleaning.

You see the flyer on the counter. "Steamy evenings - First steaming half price!" So stuffing the mailboxes had been worthwhile after all. It was so easy now, online payment, no tackiness of cash changing hands. You didn't need his money anyway - it was as much for your benefit as for his. Pull on the outfit, take a breath. Pulse racing, step outside. He was watching TV but now he turns and stares. Eats you up, mouth falls open and stays that way.

Sky high shiny black pumps, black sheer stockings and garter, skimpy black lace panties, little pink apron with a skirt that barely covers you ass and leaves your lacy stocking tops exposed, tits pushed up invitingly, nipples barely covered. Blonde hair cascading down your back. The small steamer in your hand. Give it a squeeze and it hisses and a tendril of steam curls up into the room and dissipates. "So, what do you have that needs dewrinkling?" How's that for innuendo? Cheezy, but never fails to raise a smile.

He gets up. Stumbles. Hurries into the bedroom. Probably hasn't moved that fast for years. Comes back with a couple of old crumpled stained shirts. They don't need to be steamed, they need to go in the garbage. Never mind. You take them from him, lay them on the couch, bend over and start steaming away. TV is forgotten now. He maneuvers himself behind you for a better view. You feel his eyes on your ass and feel yourself getting wet. Give him a good show. Swivel back and forth. You are aware of him coming closer. You put one shoe up on the couch, stretching out the long well toned stocking-encased leg, bending over just a little further. So you can steam better of course. Tits almost falling out of the top. You know he is watching them too.

And suddenly you decide you want more. The feeling is overpowering although it goes against all your rules. Struggle in your mind for a while, then delicious surrender to the desire. The next part is easy. You turn back and smile. He is getting hard, you see it and make sure he notices that you notice. "Anything else I can help you with?" Turn back, and you know what is coming, and you want it so badly.

His hands touch your legs first tentatively, waiting for a rebuke that doesn't come. Pretty quickly the hands move up to your ass, squeezing and kneading, roughly. Didn't expect much sophistication, and you don't want it now anyway. Sigh, and make sure he hears it. Next thing you hear his belt buckle clank and the sound of the zipper, and a moment later your panties are roughly yanked down to mid-thigh and he has a front row view of your pussy. Touchdown on TV but he's focused on a touchdown of his own now. The stupid pun flits through your mind but is driven out as soon as his fingers probe your pussy and find you are dripping wet and grunts in approval and you moan out loud and decide it's time to stop thinking.

You drop the steamer, it's done its work. Lean forward on the couch, lower your body, head down on the backrest and then you feel him against your ass, trying to find the way in. He seems out of practice, but gets it (at last!) and you feel his rock hard cock slide deep inside you. Normally you can't take it all the way first time but this time you are so wet that he just slides in. He's unbelievably hard - no surprise with you in this outfit. Fuck me heels? Fuck me everything-I'm-wearing.

He grabs you by the waist and starts hammering into you. No buildup, no "Are you ok?" just pounding your pussy as hard as he can. You feel your juices running down your thighs and soaking into your stocking tops. Jeez you are horny and desperate. He calls you a bitch, a whore, and you like it. "Yeah, I'm your bitch. Fuck me harder." He reaches forward and grabs the top of your apron and yanks it down. Your tits spill out and he grabs them and starts kneading them roughly. Now you really start to enjoy it, and he is pounding you like you are the last pussy he's ever going to have. Maybe you are. Right now you that's all you want to be, just a pussy, there to be fucked, nothing more.

Really demanding now. "Fuck me!" You are moaning, he's pulling your hair and now your head is up and you see him in the mirror, pounding away as your tits bounce back and forth against the head of the couch. You would dare anyone to see you now and not want fuck you. You imagine a crowd around you, watching everything, all waiting there for turn with you. He has some stamina and you are moaning constantly, until eventually he starts to slow down and thrust deeper and harder into you three times, four times and then with a groan he is coming inside you, and you feel him thrust hard each time as he fills your hungry pussy. Pulsing inside you over and over. Looks like it has been a long time. Then he is finally done and you feel him soften and pull out and fall onto the couch, and you stay where you are until you feel the come running out of your pussy and down your thighs.

You drop to the seat and turn. He is lying on his back on the couch. You crawl onto him and take him into your mouth and suck the come off his dick and your taste your pussy juices too. You were even wetter than you thought. He runs his fingers through your hair, gently now, but still makes sure you suck him clean.

A minute, maybe two, and you hear him breathing regularly and know he is sleeping. You head to the bathroom and change back. On a whim you leave the soaked panties on the counter. He will find a good use for them when he's busy reminiscing about all this in here.

Back in your regular clothes, walk out into the living room. He is sitting on the couch now, watching the football again, like nothing happened. You don't care - it was never for him, always for you. Because you wanted to. Because you could. Heading for the door you know he turns to watch but you don't look back. Close the door behind you and feel the come run out of your pussy as you head down the driveway to the car.