A Maid In The Hands

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Hey there, my name’s Sarah and I’m working this summer part time as a maid. It’s not the most exciting of jobs but it pays alright. I put up posters at the beginning of summer and found a few places that seemed nice to work at. Things were pretty good too, once I got into the swing of things. I only worked Monday to Friday, and it was pretty regular hours. Friday was great because I only worked a half day; every Friday morning, I cleaned for the Bradshaws.

The Brackshaws were an older couple who had retired and were enjoying it. Mrs. Bradshaw was a chronic bridge player and played every morning from ten until one, which meant that I rarely saw her except when I was just getting in. Mr. Bradshaw played tennis with a neighbour every morning from nine until ten and was usually really happy to see me. And it was Mr. Bradshaw who would pay me every month and throw in a nice little tip.

He was so happy, in fact, that I started to wear some of my sexier clothes on Fridays. First it was into tighter fitting jeans, which he appreciated, then I decided to move from the loose-fitting t-shirts to tighter v-neck tees to tank tops. The tank tops had only started this month, and today I had decided that it was time to give him a special treat.

This morning, I took a bit longer getting to the Bradshaw’s so that I would just be pulling up as Mrs. Bradshaw left. ‘Good thing she lives by the clock,’ I thought as we smiled and waved, passing each other. I pulled in front of their house and ran in before Mr. Bradshaw got back. I opened the door and walked in, wearing a white tank top and my jean skirt. Sliding my sandals off, I jogged over to the closet and took out the vacuum cleaner. Pulling it out, I took it to the living room and started vacuuming.

Not five minutes after I started, Mr. Bradshaw opened the front door and walked in. I heard the door close and took a bend at my waist nice and low, pushing the vacuum forward and pulling it back before I stood up and turned.

I brushed a stray bit of hair from my face as I smiled at him. “Hello, Mr. Bradshaw,” I said loudly over the vacuum. He looked at me, a bit sweaty in his loose t-shirt and shorts and grinned lecherously at me. I hadn’t seen him look that way at me before and I could feel myself get a bit warmer as he did. I turned back to the vacuuming and finished up the living room, bending as much as I could before turning off the cleaner.

I turned over and there was Mr. Bradshaw, not moved, still enjoying the show. He was still grinning and said, “Good morning, Sarah. You’re looking good today.”

I started wrapping up the vacuum cleaner cord. “Thanks, Mr. Bradshaw.” I turned to the vacuum and looked down. ‘Should I do it?’ I thought. It didn’t take too long for me to decide and I took a nice slow bend at the waist to fit the cord around the cleaner. I stood up again and he was there, just ogling my ass. I was pretty sure that I had given him a little view of the bottom of my ass — today’s undes were white thong panties and a matching bra.

I smiled again as I walked by him to the kitchen. I opened the cupboard under the sink and grabbed the little pail and sponge that were there. As I filled up the pail with warm water, I looked down and saw that my nipples could just start to be seen through my tanktop. I took a deep breath, turned the water off, and walked back into the living room.

Mr. Bradshaw was sitting on the couch and made no effort to hide the fact that he was checking me out when I returned.

“How was your tennis today?”

He nodded and just looked at my breasts. “It was good. I won.”

“Good for you,” I answered and walked over to the fireplace, starting to dust the mantle. I worked in silence, acutely aware that his eyes were following the movement of my ass. After the fireplace I moved on to the bookshelf next to it and started at the top shelf, wiping dust from it and working down. ‘Maybe just a little view,’ I thought as I dusted lower. I bent again at the ass as I wiped off the shelves and took my time wiping off the bottom shelves. By now I could definately feel myself hot under his watch. I took another breath and straightened myself then turned around and picked up the pail.

I was walking over to the coffee table, which was right next to the sofa. Mr. Bradshaw was still sitting there but had opened his legs now and was staring more intently on my chest. I stopped across from the sofa in front of the table and leaned over to wipe it down. My breasts hung freely and I let myself glance up once at him to see him looking down my shirt. I smiled as I turned down. ‘This game of tease has gotten me so horny,’ I thought.

“Sarah,” interrupted Mr. Bradshaw.

I turned my head up towards him. “Yes, Mr. Bradshaw?”

“Around here.”

‘What?’ “What do you mean, sir?”

“Why don’t you wash the table from this side?”

I stood up and picked up the pail. I walked over, next to him, and bent over to continue. I could feel my panties and they were now a bit wet as I moved my body close to him.

Just as I finished, I felt a hand slide up my skirt onto my ass.

‘What is going on?’ I wondered. “Mr. Bradshaw?” I asked.

He squeezed my asscheek before answering, “what.”

‘This is too good…’ “Sir, what are you doing…”

“I’m just enjoying the maid service,” he said, bringing his other hand up onto my ass and rubbing it.

“But Mr. Bradshaw, you really shouldn’t…”

As soon as I started that sentence, he lifted my skirt with one hand and slapped my ass with the other. I let out a little moan of pleasure as he did.

“Why’s that? I can tell you like it, you little slut.”

“But Mr. Bradshaw… ”

He slid his hands up my skirt again and latched on to my panties, sliding them off my wet pussy. I could swear that as he did I got even wetter.

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