The Housekeeper Came Today

As always, all characters are legal and consenting adults over the age of 18.

* * * * *

The housekeeper is coming.

That is to say: she'll--they'll?--be arriving at any moment.

They're scheduled to clean the house from top to bottom. A "deep clean," in the industry parlance. So they'll need to be rather thorough. Tidying up every room. Dusting every surface. Setting everything straight.

I know this. You know this. And you should also know that I've done something... naughty.

You know that purple vibrator that I used on you in the wee hours of the morning? The one that I turned on low and slow and rumbled all around the edges of your panties while you were sleeping? And that I began tracing--ever so softly--up and down the length of your slit when your eyelids fluttered and you began to softly whimper?

Yup, that's the one. The one that I bumped up to a slightly faster speed after shimmying those panties off your hips, leaving them to dangle carelessly from one of your ankles while I firmly guided you onto your back and resolutely prised your thighs apart. The vibrator that I pressed into your swelling clit as I spread the lips of your vulva equally wide open with my free hand.

I can tell that you remember this part; you were definitely awake by the time I started moving its shaft in tiny circles, the vibrator's tip orbiting your erect bud. I could feel your body start to quiver against the tip of the silicone cock as the tempo of your breathing surged and your whimpers blossomed into fully-fledged moans.

You undoubtedly knew what was coming when I let my flicking motions gradually become elongated, drifting farther up and down your soft folds to lodge, at long last, in the indentation at the bottom of your cleft. At first, your body's gyrations and the sounds of arousal emanating from your chest remained consistent even given the evolution of my motions, but each time I wriggled the vibrator's nib against the ring of muscles at your entrance and then drew it back up to resume teasing your clit, the pliant, purple surface of the instrument would appear just a bit shinier--a little glossier--as it slowly became coated in your body's intensifying secretions. It was only when you began rocking your hips in a silent plea to be penetrated--an unquenched desire to be filled that steadily built deep within your body--that I began to linger at the entrance to your vagina, pressing more insistently against your clenching muscles, slowly working the pulsating phallus farther and farther inside of you....

By the time I had progressed to fucking you in earnest with the vibrator, plunging it deep into your quim and then rocking it downwards to scrape the length of your g-spot on each back-stroke, your movements had become jerky; uncontrolled. As I clambered between your splayed legs to lap at your now-throbbing clit with my tongue in time with the vibrator's rhythm, you began to cry out, lost in the sensations overwhelming your ability to process them....

I could tell that you were cumming when you began to frantically clutch at my hands in a bid to still them and wriggled your pelvis out of the reach of my tongue. It took a long time for your breathing to slow and the tremors wracking your frame to finally abate.

We both knew that you'd left a sizable puddle in the bedsheets and simply chose to ignore it, rolling cozily onto your size of the bed and clutching one another as we drifted (back) off to sleep.

It's no wonder that we slept through the alarm this morning and had to scramble to get the kids out the door and the sink clear of any dishes that we didn't want to housekeepers to have to deal with. I was last out of the bedroom, so it was my job to do the final once-over as you scurried out the door to the bus stop and onto to coffee shop; the final pass before the housekeepers would arrive and set to work.

It would've been polite to have pulled the soiled fitted sheet off and hauled it over to the washing machine before they arrived. But I didn't. I didn't even pull the duvet cover back onto the bed in an effort to camouflage the still-sticky damp patch in the middle of the bed.

Nor did I turn on the ceiling fan, open a window, or spritz the room with the bathroom air freshener. The entire space still reeked of your musky scent when the cleaning crew -- two twenty-something-aged women that had both cleaned at the house previously, albeit on separate crews -- rang the doorbell.

And that purple vibrator? Yes, I should have rinsed it off, slipped it back into its silken bag, buried it deep inside my underwear drawer to preserve the secret of our midnight tryst. But, no. I was naughty. I left it right there in plain sight on the top of my nightstand/bookcase. Obviously askew as if just used and hurriedly discarded. Still coated in a thin, pearlescent film of your girlcum. Leaving no question about what had taken place in this room just hours before... the pleasure that had been experienced... the climax that had been its result.

* * * * *

It might well be my imagination, but it certainly felt like the housekeeper assigned to managing the upstairs took longer than usual to complete her tasks. When the team was packing up and collecting their payment, I could've sworn that she looked vaguely... flushed? And were her breasts straining just a bit against her uniform t-shirt, nipples possibly creating subtle ridges through the pink cotton material?

I went back upstairs to set things into their normal places when everybody had left and was pleased to discover that our bed was neatly made with fresh sheets, no trace of the vibrator on the bookshelf. Instead, it was tucked discreetly back into its bag on the bottom shelf--the place where it normally "lived." Good God, had she taken notice of it previously, as well?

When I extracted the tool from its pouch, I was surprised to see that it has been plugged back in to recharge. And that its purple silicone sheath had been meticulously cleaned. The vibrator even seemed to exude an unusual scent--a kind of smoky, vanilla scent....

And that's when I noticed the shadow on the floor underneath the bookshelf--a fabric item that certainly hadn't been there before. I reached underneath and extracted a gauzy, black pair of thong panties--far different than your normal daily wear.

As I turned them over in my hand, I discovered that its meager strand of gusset felt moist to the touch. Raising them to my nose, I was shocked to discover that they, too, smelled a bit of vanilla and a subtly distinct air of arousal....

I smile as I peel back the comforter and lay the flimsy garment out neatly next to your pile of pyjamas, where you'll certainly find it at the end of the day. When you do, I'm going to very much enjoy confessing exactly how naughty I've been. I can't wait to watch the blush creep up your cheeks as I explain exactly how much our petite little housekeeper apparently now knows about our private sex lives. But that will pale in comparison to the crimson of arousal that you're going to flush when I toss you backwards into the middle of the bed, crumpling the housekeeper's thong into a ball beneath your nose so that you're inundated with the scent of her musky vanilla scent, and roughly tug down your leggings and panties so that I can sink the now-rumbling purple vibrator back into your cleft to resume driving you wild.

The housekeeper came today. You're next.

Maybe we should call and have them out on a weekly basis from now on....