Whata Week Day 7
- 3 years ago
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What Next? free porn video
It has been a while now since we employed her as a domestic worker in our home.
She is in her mid thirties. Rather short and with a very peculiar build. Very much like the cherubs in the classical pictures with sweet, plumpy face and big, round eyes. With two exceptions: she has a dark brown skin and a pair of wonderfully bouncy and cleavagy boobs.
When speaking of the twins, I get more than mildly excited. There are few things quite as beautiful as a long cleave that disappears in the boundary of clothes. And when there's the added tension of not knowing exactly how they flow and bulge under their own weight when uncovered, it almost drives me crazy.
And just as mysterious as what that cleavage leads to, is her smile. Her personality is soft and quiet. And she smiles often. What drives me wild about it, is the fact that I do not always know what the smile means. Sometimes her smile looks almost knowing. Sometimes inviting. Sometimes as if she knows exactly what she is causing. Sometimes innocent.
And it gets me hot and bothered.
The other day, I needed to tell her something and when I called to hear where she was, she called softly and said: "I'm here - in the washing room". Knocking on the door again, I made sure that I do not intrude, as it is also the room in which she changes into her working clothes.
Her dress sense is modern and she likes earthy colours. Golden browns and dark greens and tans and soft greys. In trousers and blouses and knitted jerseys. All of which, gently, eludes to her rather busty profile.
Anyhow, as I opened the door, she looks at me and asks what it is. I found myself rather unprepared for what I was to ask, as my mind went searching. After moments, I utter: "Would you please make sure that the bedding is changed in the guest room." And she smiles - the knowing one again.
This made me rather nervous and I looked at her in her working outfit and found her to make that type of uniform to be very sexy attire indeed. I also reminded her that she needed to be ready at 2 o'clock, as I was going to town and she could catch a lift with me to the mall.
After getting busy with some work issues, I finished and called again to ask if she was ready. I could not hear her answer and walked to the washing room to call her and make sure we left in time, as I was on my way to an important engagement. Knocked on the door and heard no answer.
Carefully, I opened the door and found her with her knitted blouse halfway over her head as she was putting it on. The sight of her light blue bra, bravely taking the weight of her ample breasts as they giggled slightly due to her movements, was intoxicating. Initially I wanted to rush out, but it felt wrong to slam the door closed. She might think I was ogling her, so I tried to keep myself calm and saw her getting the blouse over her head and shoulders and pulling it down over her body. As she opened her eyes, she saw me. She smiled, but this time it was as if she understood my embarrassment. As if she was proud of her twins and understanding at the same time.
I must have looked shocked. Quickly gathering my thoughts, I begged her pardon. She nodded and smiled. I asked if she was ready to leave, which was a rather ridiculous question, as I could see for myself that she was now ready to leave.
The trip in the car was dead quiet. Not a word from me. She smiled. A shy smile mostly, but sometimes, the knowing one.
On her next working day, I tried to keep it cool and matter-of-factly, but inside I am a raging sea of wanting to see more...
She is in her mid thirties. Rather short and with a very peculiar build. Very much like the cherubs in the classical pictures with sweet, plumpy face and big, round eyes. With two exceptions: she has a dark brown skin and a pair of wonderfully bouncy and cleavagy boobs.
When speaking of the twins, I get more than mildly excited. There are few things quite as beautiful as a long cleave that disappears in the boundary of clothes. And when there's the added tension of not knowing exactly how they flow and bulge under their own weight when uncovered, it almost drives me crazy.
And just as mysterious as what that cleavage leads to, is her smile. Her personality is soft and quiet. And she smiles often. What drives me wild about it, is the fact that I do not always know what the smile means. Sometimes her smile looks almost knowing. Sometimes inviting. Sometimes as if she knows exactly what she is causing. Sometimes innocent.
And it gets me hot and bothered.
The other day, I needed to tell her something and when I called to hear where she was, she called softly and said: "I'm here - in the washing room". Knocking on the door again, I made sure that I do not intrude, as it is also the room in which she changes into her working clothes.
Her dress sense is modern and she likes earthy colours. Golden browns and dark greens and tans and soft greys. In trousers and blouses and knitted jerseys. All of which, gently, eludes to her rather busty profile.
Anyhow, as I opened the door, she looks at me and asks what it is. I found myself rather unprepared for what I was to ask, as my mind went searching. After moments, I utter: "Would you please make sure that the bedding is changed in the guest room." And she smiles - the knowing one again.
This made me rather nervous and I looked at her in her working outfit and found her to make that type of uniform to be very sexy attire indeed. I also reminded her that she needed to be ready at 2 o'clock, as I was going to town and she could catch a lift with me to the mall.
After getting busy with some work issues, I finished and called again to ask if she was ready. I could not hear her answer and walked to the washing room to call her and make sure we left in time, as I was on my way to an important engagement. Knocked on the door and heard no answer.
Carefully, I opened the door and found her with her knitted blouse halfway over her head as she was putting it on. The sight of her light blue bra, bravely taking the weight of her ample breasts as they giggled slightly due to her movements, was intoxicating. Initially I wanted to rush out, but it felt wrong to slam the door closed. She might think I was ogling her, so I tried to keep myself calm and saw her getting the blouse over her head and shoulders and pulling it down over her body. As she opened her eyes, she saw me. She smiled, but this time it was as if she understood my embarrassment. As if she was proud of her twins and understanding at the same time.
I must have looked shocked. Quickly gathering my thoughts, I begged her pardon. She nodded and smiled. I asked if she was ready to leave, which was a rather ridiculous question, as I could see for myself that she was now ready to leave.
The trip in the car was dead quiet. Not a word from me. She smiled. A shy smile mostly, but sometimes, the knowing one.
On her next working day, I tried to keep it cool and matter-of-factly, but inside I am a raging sea of wanting to see more...
Bess
- 02.09.2021
- 17
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