Tales of Arkham The Special Collection
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Mrs Shaw's Collection free porn video
There was no way to dress it up – the first week had been exhausting.
Sick of the Managing Director’s enormous mood swings, Stephanie had quit her tedious admin job and returned to cleaning. It had been Dan’s suggestion. “You’re unhappy. Why not go back to your cleaning business? Your clients will take you back in a heartbeat. You’re great at it!”
It was true. She loved being her own boss and leaving a home that was a dream to walk into gave her real job satisfaction. Most of the old clients had indeed wanted her back sharpish. And some of the new ones were a higher class of home. Real earners who wanted everything doing. Even down to the laundry.
*
She had felt the burn in the first week, going from a sedentary desk job to being constantly on the move. She had cleaned, washed and ironed for a few single, male professionals – an executive, a lawyer, a headteacher.
Then she hit Friday and the Shaw house. A whopping great mansion if she had ever seen one, down on ‘The Avenue’ in the pricey part of town. It was a job that needed a full day.
When she finally reached the end, Stephanie was looking forward to clocking off and a glass or two of Prosecco. But she was drained and was toying with the idea of cancelling town with the girls.
The last thing left to do was to sort piles of dry washing into the seemingly hundreds of drawers in the vast master bedroom. Where to even start?
After a while the pieces of the puzzle seemed to be falling into place. I’m definitely calling town off, she decided, rubbing her aching shoulders and hoping it would only be a week or two before her muscles were used to physical work again.
The final drawer that she opened was one of the biggest and she immediately realised that it was the wrong one. What lay before her as the drawer slid open was a pretty extensive collection of Mrs Shaw’s bras. A little bit of her always winced when confronted with such a space as it represented another woman’s most private belongings.
Maybe it was tiredness. Or boredom. Call it the delay of the soft closing drawer. But something stopped Stephanie from shutting the collection away as fast as she ordinarily would have. Her eyes lingered.
Then they lingered some more. She had only met the attractive forty something the once when she came around to price the job up. Her husband had dealt with her over the phone the other times. But one thing was certain: this lady had great taste in lingerie. There was a row of little black numbers – arranged from the everyday t-shirt to some clearly expensive and risqué numbers. There was a similarly arranged row in white, nude and more shades of red than Steph could name.
Having just been over every inch of their prize home, it was clear that Mrs Shaw – Julia she had said to call her – appreciated the finer things. But inspecting this collection confirmed just how much so. Stephanie felt as if she were intruding.
Yet still her eyes remained fixed.
She was finished her work earlier than she had thought and her time was her own. Maybe it’s best not to leave too early? They’re bound to have CCTV around the door and gate. Stephanie gave a cursory glance over her shoulder even though she knew that she was well and truly alone. Still, she felt a little sheepish.
The bottom row of bras was clearly the everyday part of the collection. The kicking around the house bras that were well worn in and didn’t need to absolutely colour coordinate.
From then on it was as if she were having an out of body experience. Sensible Steph was watching over her own shoulder going “What are you doing?” Still, she lifted the creamy coloured bra, with a daisy design out of the drawer.
Against her better instincts, she unfolded it and gave the inside of the cup a little sniff.
It was divine. Beneath her jeans, Steph felt a familiar tingling sensation, accompanied by a little flourish of heat. Familiar, but not in the context of another woman’s lingerie.
What the fuck are you doing? Chimed in the sensible voice again. Caught in the reality of the moment, she didn’t care enough to stop though. Yet she did take another glance around to check that nobody was there. Her eyes confirmed the emptiness of the room and settled on a large picture on the wall; a photo of the Shaws. It was the type of photo that was clearly taken on the way out for a meal on holiday. Julia really was attractive, particularly so for her age.
Stephanie sniffed the garment in her hand again and found herself imagining what the woman in the photo would look like if the dress were removed. The curves of her body, that same sun-kissed skin stretching over her hips. Those breasts.
The warm sensation became a moist patch in Stephanie’s thong. It had been a while since she had felt this aroused by a thought.
Lost in a moment, she glanced towards the Shaws’ bed. Impulse took her and she knew she had to go for it.
Sprawling across the silk sheets with her employer’s bra in her hand, she unbuttoned her jeans and slid her manicured hand inside. In the back of her mind she knew she shouldn’t take long for fear of being caught. A swift first stroke of her engorged clitoris with her fingers told her that she wouldn’t be able to last long if she tried.
Steph gasped at the stimulation and rubbed up and down in long sweeping strokes. The ambience of the expensively clad room added to her arousal; this really was naughty for someone in whom the couple had placed the utmost trust. Normally the consummate professional, on this occasion that thought added to her arousal.
She gasped again as her long strokes turned to wide circular strokes as her hand fell into a steady rhythm. Steph panted as she angled her head to look at Julia’s photo. It were as though the blonde woman’s eyes were on her. The cute little smile the woman wore took on another meaning as if she were egging her on.
“Ah,” Stephanie gasped, drinking the beautiful woman in, her hands working quicker than they ordinarily would.
Panting now, she imagined stripping the woman’s floral dress back. A quick, sordid fumble in her hotel room maybe? Wherever it was it was fucking hot and she couldn’t get enough of the thought.
Deep within she could feel the orgasm building in the background with every stroke. As her mind’s eye pictured the dress falling to a crumpled heap on a tiled floor. Beneath was the garment that she now remembered was in her hand.
“Ah!” Steph cried, arching her back into the Shaws’ bed and lifting Julia’s bra to her face and inhaling as deeply as the sharp pants of her arousal would allow.
She realised that her face was clammy, not just from her day’s work but the intensity of her stimulation. She could swear that she could smell the woman on the bra. It was the sexiest thing she had ever encountered.
“Ahhhh!” she cried, loudly now hoping that nobody was in earshot, but not really caring either.
She was so close to the crescendo but needed that final stimulus. With practised ease, dextrous fingers slid her sodden thong aside and the bra slipped from her hand as her hand dropped to clasp at her own breast.
Stephanie clawed at her own stiff nipple through the light t shirt and lace bra. The stinging sensation through the soft material was enough to send her cascading over the edge of her own orgasm.
This time her cry caught at the back of her throat thick with arousal and her jaw clamped open in a silent cry of ecstasy. It was intense and she seemed to hang there as it lasted and lasted – leaving her shaking gently on the couple’s bed.
Eventually it subsided and her hand dropped from her jeans. She rolled to one side, panting lightly and her face fell against Julia’s bra where it lay. Steph savoured the scent before finally she recovered enough to give the bra back to the drawer.
*
A good half hour later, a weak legged Stephanie was locking the double front doors. A chance look up confirmed that there was indeed CCTV over the entrance to the couple’s home. The smirk from her face vanished with but one last thought: do these kinky upper class types have cameras in their bedrooms?
Sick of the Managing Director’s enormous mood swings, Stephanie had quit her tedious admin job and returned to cleaning. It had been Dan’s suggestion. “You’re unhappy. Why not go back to your cleaning business? Your clients will take you back in a heartbeat. You’re great at it!”
It was true. She loved being her own boss and leaving a home that was a dream to walk into gave her real job satisfaction. Most of the old clients had indeed wanted her back sharpish. And some of the new ones were a higher class of home. Real earners who wanted everything doing. Even down to the laundry.
*
She had felt the burn in the first week, going from a sedentary desk job to being constantly on the move. She had cleaned, washed and ironed for a few single, male professionals – an executive, a lawyer, a headteacher.
Then she hit Friday and the Shaw house. A whopping great mansion if she had ever seen one, down on ‘The Avenue’ in the pricey part of town. It was a job that needed a full day.
When she finally reached the end, Stephanie was looking forward to clocking off and a glass or two of Prosecco. But she was drained and was toying with the idea of cancelling town with the girls.
The last thing left to do was to sort piles of dry washing into the seemingly hundreds of drawers in the vast master bedroom. Where to even start?
After a while the pieces of the puzzle seemed to be falling into place. I’m definitely calling town off, she decided, rubbing her aching shoulders and hoping it would only be a week or two before her muscles were used to physical work again.
The final drawer that she opened was one of the biggest and she immediately realised that it was the wrong one. What lay before her as the drawer slid open was a pretty extensive collection of Mrs Shaw’s bras. A little bit of her always winced when confronted with such a space as it represented another woman’s most private belongings.
Maybe it was tiredness. Or boredom. Call it the delay of the soft closing drawer. But something stopped Stephanie from shutting the collection away as fast as she ordinarily would have. Her eyes lingered.
Then they lingered some more. She had only met the attractive forty something the once when she came around to price the job up. Her husband had dealt with her over the phone the other times. But one thing was certain: this lady had great taste in lingerie. There was a row of little black numbers – arranged from the everyday t-shirt to some clearly expensive and risqué numbers. There was a similarly arranged row in white, nude and more shades of red than Steph could name.
Having just been over every inch of their prize home, it was clear that Mrs Shaw – Julia she had said to call her – appreciated the finer things. But inspecting this collection confirmed just how much so. Stephanie felt as if she were intruding.
Yet still her eyes remained fixed.
She was finished her work earlier than she had thought and her time was her own. Maybe it’s best not to leave too early? They’re bound to have CCTV around the door and gate. Stephanie gave a cursory glance over her shoulder even though she knew that she was well and truly alone. Still, she felt a little sheepish.
The bottom row of bras was clearly the everyday part of the collection. The kicking around the house bras that were well worn in and didn’t need to absolutely colour coordinate.
From then on it was as if she were having an out of body experience. Sensible Steph was watching over her own shoulder going “What are you doing?” Still, she lifted the creamy coloured bra, with a daisy design out of the drawer.
Against her better instincts, she unfolded it and gave the inside of the cup a little sniff.
It was divine. Beneath her jeans, Steph felt a familiar tingling sensation, accompanied by a little flourish of heat. Familiar, but not in the context of another woman’s lingerie.
What the fuck are you doing? Chimed in the sensible voice again. Caught in the reality of the moment, she didn’t care enough to stop though. Yet she did take another glance around to check that nobody was there. Her eyes confirmed the emptiness of the room and settled on a large picture on the wall; a photo of the Shaws. It was the type of photo that was clearly taken on the way out for a meal on holiday. Julia really was attractive, particularly so for her age.
Stephanie sniffed the garment in her hand again and found herself imagining what the woman in the photo would look like if the dress were removed. The curves of her body, that same sun-kissed skin stretching over her hips. Those breasts.
The warm sensation became a moist patch in Stephanie’s thong. It had been a while since she had felt this aroused by a thought.
Lost in a moment, she glanced towards the Shaws’ bed. Impulse took her and she knew she had to go for it.
Sprawling across the silk sheets with her employer’s bra in her hand, she unbuttoned her jeans and slid her manicured hand inside. In the back of her mind she knew she shouldn’t take long for fear of being caught. A swift first stroke of her engorged clitoris with her fingers told her that she wouldn’t be able to last long if she tried.
Steph gasped at the stimulation and rubbed up and down in long sweeping strokes. The ambience of the expensively clad room added to her arousal; this really was naughty for someone in whom the couple had placed the utmost trust. Normally the consummate professional, on this occasion that thought added to her arousal.
She gasped again as her long strokes turned to wide circular strokes as her hand fell into a steady rhythm. Steph panted as she angled her head to look at Julia’s photo. It were as though the blonde woman’s eyes were on her. The cute little smile the woman wore took on another meaning as if she were egging her on.
“Ah,” Stephanie gasped, drinking the beautiful woman in, her hands working quicker than they ordinarily would.
Panting now, she imagined stripping the woman’s floral dress back. A quick, sordid fumble in her hotel room maybe? Wherever it was it was fucking hot and she couldn’t get enough of the thought.
Deep within she could feel the orgasm building in the background with every stroke. As her mind’s eye pictured the dress falling to a crumpled heap on a tiled floor. Beneath was the garment that she now remembered was in her hand.
“Ah!” Steph cried, arching her back into the Shaws’ bed and lifting Julia’s bra to her face and inhaling as deeply as the sharp pants of her arousal would allow.
She realised that her face was clammy, not just from her day’s work but the intensity of her stimulation. She could swear that she could smell the woman on the bra. It was the sexiest thing she had ever encountered.
“Ahhhh!” she cried, loudly now hoping that nobody was in earshot, but not really caring either.
She was so close to the crescendo but needed that final stimulus. With practised ease, dextrous fingers slid her sodden thong aside and the bra slipped from her hand as her hand dropped to clasp at her own breast.
Stephanie clawed at her own stiff nipple through the light t shirt and lace bra. The stinging sensation through the soft material was enough to send her cascading over the edge of her own orgasm.
This time her cry caught at the back of her throat thick with arousal and her jaw clamped open in a silent cry of ecstasy. It was intense and she seemed to hang there as it lasted and lasted – leaving her shaking gently on the couple’s bed.
Eventually it subsided and her hand dropped from her jeans. She rolled to one side, panting lightly and her face fell against Julia’s bra where it lay. Steph savoured the scent before finally she recovered enough to give the bra back to the drawer.
*
A good half hour later, a weak legged Stephanie was locking the double front doors. A chance look up confirmed that there was indeed CCTV over the entrance to the couple’s home. The smirk from her face vanished with but one last thought: do these kinky upper class types have cameras in their bedrooms?
Alma
- 07.05.2022
- 29
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