With the wife and I working forty plus hours a week to keep up with finances, her on day shift and myself working second, we decided to hire a cleaning service that came in once a week. For the first month, a scrawny little man about 42 years old cleaned the house till it was spic and span while I worked on my writing. Dave never said much, just cleaned and left.
Then, without warning, Julie showed up at the door one morning. I was expecting Dave, so I probably looked a little surprised when I answered the door that Monday. Her beauty overwhelmed me for a second as my eyes took in everything about her; the sky-blue eyes under the short cropped blonde hair, just the light touch of makeup that was barely noticeable yet didn't detract from her beauty. When she talked I noticed the red full lips hiding a stud she had pierced her tongue with. The loosely fitting smock hung on her, covering her torso from mid-thigh to just where her cleavage began to show on her C-size breast. She also wore skin tight leggings that hid her perfectly shaped legs from the ankle to below the smock. The sound of her voice brought my attention away from the secrets of her body and we stumbled over quick introductions before she started to work.
In my wisdom, I decided the one chore I had to do today, installing a new shower head, could wait until later. I grabbed a book from the shelf in the living room and took a seat on the couch. I only pretended to read, instead, I watched her whenever she came into the room. She moved with the fluidness of a dancer as she stretched, bent over, and kneeled while dusting and other cleaning exercises. That was when I noticed she didn't wear anything underneath the loose smock. Occasionally, I caught the patch of bare skin under her clothes. Once even watching as a button came undone on it, revealing the dark round outline of a nipple and the curve of her breast. She didn't even stop to button it back up. Our eyes met a few times, but mine quickly darted away from hers to return to the book I wasn't reading.
An hour after she arrived she was done, and I offered her a drink. She accepted graciously and sat on the couch as I retrieved it. When I arrived back in the living room I almost stopped in my tracks. She had reclined back on the sofa, her legs spread just enough so I could make out the lines of her vagina under the tight leggings. The top of her smock was undone a little also, revealing the valley between those magnificent breasts as she mopped her sweaty brow with a towel. When she saw I had returned, she slowly crossed her legs, but did nothing about the buttons on her smock.
As hard as it was for me, both figurative and literally, all we did was talk. The conversation lasted about twenty-five minutes and if you asked me then what we talked about -- I would not have been able to answer. All my thoughts were on her and what our bodies would feel like pressed together, naked flesh against naked flesh, lips touching as we stared into each other's eyes, our bodies moving rhythmically in unbridled passion.
When she left, I headed to the bathroom, stripping out of my clothes on the way. As I passed the bathroom window I noticed her car parked right in front of it because the blinds were open. For some reason the previous owners had put floor to ceiling windows in all the rooms, including this one. I knew she could see in as I stood there in full view for a second before I moved away and hopped into the shower, taking care of my aroused cock in the process.
This continued for a month, once a week. Each time she came over we flirted a little bit and during the entire time she worked she somehow managed to tease me with more provocative flashes of her skin. Once, while working in the kitchen, she had even unbuttoned the smock all the way. When she heard me behind her she turned around and slowly buttoned it back up, leaving the top three buttons open. I tried not to stare as my hard on got harder watching her hide the perfectly shaped breasts. She even glanced once at the bulge under my shorts, causing the faintest smile to cross her lips. She turned around and continued working as I admired her form from the archway. A few minutes later, I returned to the living room and continued not reading my book. My thoughts were with her, and what I would love to do.
As always, when she finished she joined me on the couch, this time facing me with one arm stretched across the back and one leg tucked under the other turned toward me. I could see a slight wet spot forming on her tight yellow leggings she wore today. When she kicked off one shoe and stretched her legs out toward me, I automatically began rubbing her feet, firmly yet with a knowledgeable touch. Her legs spread a little more and once or twice her bare foot brushed my hard on as I thought again of taking her, forcing myself deep inside the wetness I could clearly see getting larger between her legs.
I controlled myself as she sighed and gave me the other foot to do, my cock now so hard it was painful.
When her drink was over, and the massage was finished, she left. I hurried to the bathroom and stood in front of the window and stripped out of the shorts and t-shirt I was wearing. The blinds were open, and I knew she could see me, all of me now as I grabbed my thick hard cock and stroked it until I ejaculated on the window. She watched the whole show, smiling as she moved to her own special rhythm before driving away.
The next Monday, I woke up with a hard on just waiting for her to arrive, and still had it when she got there. Everything was normal for about 20 minutes, and then it changed when I saw her walk from the bedrooms to the kitchen and noticed the leggings were gone. The smock was still there, only one or two buttons held it together now and I didn't have to imagine what her skin looked like, I saw everything.
