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The Unspoken Arrangement, Ch 5: Maid Service For Ms. Anderson free porn video
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CHAPTER 5
Serving Ms. Anderson
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While cleaning house for her wife's friend Mrs. Anderson, the maid
disgraces herself
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"You can take a taxi home, I'll pay the driver when you get there," said
Mistress Tate as she dropped Cecilia at the curb outside Ms. Anderson's
house. She watched him walk up to the door in his pale blue cleaning
uniform, with its crisp white collar and white short-sleeve cuffs, and
the modest white apron neatly tied around his waist. He was wearing
beige pantyhose and practical women's shoes, and of course, his nylon
panties underneath. With the stuffed bra filling out his bosom and the
corset defining his waist and hips, he looked like a fit, rather shapely
cleaning woman with a brown bob arriving at work. His walk was perfect,
his behind swaying attractively as he climbed the steps. As Jennifer
drove away, she marvelled at how well her husband had taken to his
training.
Cecilia rang the doorbell and waited. He fidgeted nervously; no one was
answering. Anxiously, he rang again. To Cecilia's shock, a man in a
business suit opened the door.
"Oh, hello," said the man, giving Cecilia a surprised once-over. He
called back over his shoulder, "It's the cleaning lady."
"Thanks, John," came Ms. Anderson's voice from a distance. "Just let her
in, I'll be there in a second."
"Come in," he invited Cecilia with a smile. "Sorry, just on my way out."
He slipped by her with a briefcase, car keys in hand, and closed the
door behind him.
Ms. Anderson emerged from the bedroom in a short black see-through
negligee, her hair tousled as if she had just enjoyed a morning fuck.
"Looks like you passed," she grinned. "I don't think John even noticed
you. Follow me, I'm just about to have a shower."
She led him into her bedroom, her luscious ass taunting him through the
negligee. The bed was unmade, and clothes were strewn about. He could
see a pair of tangled red satin panties on the floor. A matching bra
dangled from the bedside lamp.
"Would you find me a fresh set of bra and panties?" she said as she
slipped into the bathroom. "Just look in the top two dresser drawers.
See if you can find my matching white Victoria's Secret thong and push-
up. I feel sexy today."
"Yes, Ms. Anderson, " said Cecilia. He began rummaging through Ms.
Anderson's panty drawer. She owned panties of all colours, and they were
all tangled together.
"Sorry it's such a mess," she called from the bathroom. "Look, I'll be a
few minutes in the shower. Why don't you straighten my underwear drawers
while you wait? Just fold everything neatly and put it back tidily for
me, there's a good girl."
Yes, Ms. Anderson." Cecilia began taking out Heather's clean panties one
by one, folding them and stacking them on the top of the dresser. She
had cotton panties, spandex panties, lacy panties, high-waisted panties,
low-cut panties, thongs, a few boy-cut panties. He could hear her in the
shower, so he took a chance to fondle and admire some of the sexier
items briefly. He set aside the white thong she had requested and
returned the rest of them to the drawer, sorting them by type and
colour. Then he opened the next drawer and began folding and sorting her
wonderful assortment of bras, with their full cups and delicate lace.
She emerged from the bathroom completely naked, her luscious curves
glistening. "Fetch me a towel," she ordered. "Did you find the bra and
panties I asked for?"
"Yes, Ms. Anderson," he said, bringing her a dry, fluffy towel. He
longed to touch her, but his wife had sent him to serve her as a maid
for the day.
"Dry me off, there's a dear," she said. He had to pat every inch of her
glowing body with the towel, after which she made him rub moisturizer
into her skin. She watched, amused, as he massaged the cream into her
neck, her arms, her shoulders, her breasts, her abdomen, her thighs, her
calves. He had to get down on his knees in front of her to massage her
feet.
She sat down on the bench in front of her vanity, facing him. "Fetch my
panties." He brought them, and she lifted one foot expectantly. He knelt
at her feet and held the panties open. She slipped in one foot and then
the other, toes pointed gracefully, and then waited as he pulled them up
her shapely legs. She raised herself on the bench and allowed him to
slide them up around her ass, his face just inches from her crotch,
until the white triangle of satin hid her pussy.
"Now my bra," she said, swinging around to face the vanity. Standing, he
drew it across her pert breasts, adjusting the underwire against her
soft flesh. Jennifer had encouraged her to tease the hell out of him,
and she was an attractive woman, so it wasn't difficult. Flaunting
herself to a sissy maid who couldn't do anything about it was rather
fun, she thought. She watched his tense face in the mirror as he fumbled
with the fasteners, his fingers trembling with excitement. Finally he
clipped the bra closed. She said, "There's a mid-length navy dress in
the walk-in closet. Would you be a dear and iron it? You'll find
everything you need in the service closet out in the hallway."
When he returned carrying her freshly ironed dress, she had finished her
makeup. She was standing in the middle of her bedroom, looking foxy in
her lacy white underwear, and holding the red satin panties she had
picked up from the floor. They were shiny with her love juices. About an
hour earlier she had made John get them good and creamy while she wore
them. She said she liked the way it felt, and he was happy to oblige,
palming her crotch and watching her grind the panties into a slippery
mess. Now she suspended them one one finger in front of the sissy maid's
face.
"You see these?" She said, holding the reeking crotch up to his face.
The arousing fish-and-honey odour of her cunt juices wafted into his
nostrils. "I want you to give these special attention while you're doing
my laundry today. Same with any others like them in the hamper. You'll
find matching bras, and I want you to give them special attention too."
She dropped the panties. "Now help me my into my dress."
"Yes, Ms. Anderson," he said, his eyes following the panties as they
fell into a heap on the floor by her feet. Again he knelt before her,
the fish-and-honey odour lingering in his nose, and held open her dress,
drawing it up her shapely body and around her arms and shoulders,
fastening the zip along her graceful back.
"How do I look?" she asked, standing back a little and facing him.
"You look hot, Ms. Anderson," he replied. He could feel his member
swelling, trying and failing to escape his large nylon panties.
"Hot?" she said. "That's quite something, coming from the cleaning
woman. Anyone would think you were a lesbian. What about it, Cecilia?
Are you a sushi lover?"
"Yes, Ms. Anderson," he admitted. She laughed. "We'll see about that,"
she said. "Right now I have to go to work, and you have housework to do.
Start with the laundry, and then you'll find a list on the laundry
table." She picked up her purse. "Have fun cleaning windows in your nice
new housekeeping uniform, Cecilia," she taunted him as she left.
Cecilia gathered the clothes from the bedroom into a laundry basket: her
soiled panties and bra, a sexy black dress, a lacy slip, a garter belt;
her stockings, one on the dresser, the other on the floor. There were
also men's clothes, which he decided he'd better wash too. After heaping
most of the laundry into the basket, he finished by laying Ms.
Anderson's red satin panties carefully on top, so that he could look at
them and inhale their musky scent as he descended the stairs to the
laundry room. He brought them closer to his nose, breathing in the smell
of her sex.
In the laundry room hamper, he found more silky panties, more matching
bras. It looked as if Ms. Anderson was getting fucked every night.
Cecilia hadn't had any gratification since the day Mistress told him he
would need her permission to masturbate. He was too embarrassed to ask,
and anyway he figured she'd say no, or lay down some extreme condition.
Afraid to disobey, in case she found out and punished him, he had
reluctantly remained chaste. Now, he saw his chance for relief. Overcome
with excitement, he stripped off his pantyhose and panties and began
trying on Ms. Anderson's dirty underwear, mincing about and hopping with
excitement at the feel of the fabric. He was suddenly conscious of his
nipples rubbing against the breast forms in his bra, increasing his
arousal. Finally he put the red satin panties over his head, dropped to
his knees, and began inhaling the musk of his wife's best friend while
jerking off into a pair of her soiled underwear, until he came in a gush
on her laundry-room floor. It felt amazing.
Quickly, he mopped up the mess, got back into his own panties and
pantyhose, and continued with the laundry.
After starting the wash, he picked up the list she had left next to a
bucket of cleaning supplies on the laundry-folding table. It was a
printed checklist from a local cleaning service. "Our maids will clean
your house from top to bottom!" the list began. It had sections for each
room of the house, with square bullets for various duties. Jennifer had
checked some of the bullets, and at the end of the list she had written,
"Don't think about it, just start with item one and keep going. I'll be
home late-afternoon, you should be done by then. Do a good job and
there'll be a reward."
Most of it was straightforward light housework. He also found in a note
in the bedroom, instructing him to set out a pink slip, along with a
beige garter belt and stockings, and a knee-length cotton dress, white
with small pink flowers, front-buttoning, full-skirted. He laid these
items out neatly on her freshly made bed, as instructed.
Among his duties in each room was to wash the windows from inside. Four
of the windows looked out on a quiet street; others looked out over the
neighbours' backyards. No one seemed to be home. All the same, as he
scrubbed at the glass in his pale blue housekeeping uniform, he tried to
look like an ordinary cleaning woman.
The windows were the old-fashioned kind that didn't come out. They had
to be washed from the outside; Ms. Anderson had written where to find a
ladder. He had to go outside with his cleaning supplies, climb the
ladder, and wash the panes. As he climbed up and down the steps in his
low pumps, scrubbing the windows, he could see the reflection of his
white apron and his pale blue housekeeping dress glowing in the
afternoon sun. He strained to look like a working woman, setting his
shoulders and his hips just so, feeling the weight of his breast forms
as they jiggled pleasantly in his frock.
Heather came home late in the afternoon, just as he was putting the
ladder away. "Are you all done?" she sang cheerfully.
"Yes, Ms. Anderson," said the exhausted Cecilia.
Good, you can start making dinner while I change. I hear you make a good
puff-pastry salmon. You'll find everything you need in the kitchen."
Lauryn
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