She placed her clipboard on the counter and started extending the tape as my blood flooded into my shaft, my scrotum drew tight to my groin, and my slit started to widen. In that instant, I realized fully for the first time how much I had been missing sex with another person in the same room.
“Should I hold the end for you?” I suggested, instantly regretting even that remote double entendre.
Her grin was the only answer I needed. I placed the open end against a wall and enjoyed watching Amy walk across the living room. She returned and made a note on her chart. We repeated that for the other dimension, and then the kitchen.
“We don’t measure bathrooms,” she said, making notes about the condition of the main floor powder room.
“The bedrooms and full bath are upstairs?” she confirmed.
I just nodded in reply, my voice stuck in my throat.
She stopped to count the stairs and then bounced up the stairs without waiting for me. From that angle, the roomy pants did not disguise the fact that her ass was high and firm. Amy might be middle-aged like me, but she clearly took care of her body.
I cautioned myself to relax, to not fantasize. Amy was just the estimator. No doubt the regular cleaner would be someone much less attractive.
Lost in wonderland, I barely heard Amy asking if I was going to come hold the tape for her. I still do not recall going up the stairs. Amy already had made notes about the bathroom, which was just off the landing.
“The spare bedrooms don’t get used much?” she asked.
“Kids come to visit a couple times a year,” I muttered.
“I’ll mark them for every third visit. If you have company, call Tasha at the office, have her add an hour the visit before and after. No – sorry, you seem like a nice guy – the extra two hours is a money maker I’m supposed to up sell. Tell Tash that Amy said an extra ten minutes per room those visits. That’s really how long it takes. Save you a few bucks.”
I would gladly have paid whatever they charged if Amy would keep grinning at me like she was in that moment, her bright eyes dancing. My half hard cock surged to complete fullness. I ached to ask her to measure it as she held out the tape, swivelling to enter my bedroom.
“Is there an en suite in your room?” she asked over her shoulder. “Or a walk in closet or anything funky like that?”
My sick mind wanted me to ask Amy if she thought a trapeze over the bed was funky. Not that I had one. Sometimes my own imagination shocks me.
The next thing I recall is Amy standing by the end of my bed, holding out her tape measure, waiting for me to grab the end.
“No walk in closet,” I finally replied,”but yes, there is an en suite – I had one of those steam showers built in.”
“Oh, I better have you turn that on,” Amy replied, stretching to measure the width of the room, “if it creates a lot of moisture, we’ll need to pay extra attention to avoid mold.”
We shifted 90 degrees and measured the length of the room as I ran through a dozen bad puns about how turned on I was, or how I wanted to turn Amy on. As we moved, I admired her lithe athleticism, but we never brushed against each other. Just thinking about that possibility though made my weight bulge so much I feared that it might force my sweatpants to drop, and my cock to force itself on display. Or maybe it was the sight of Amy’s pants finally stretched tight across her perfect ass as she bent to place her end of the tape in the corner and jot down a few figures. Almost as if she was presenting her ass to me, like a primate female out to attract a sexual mate.
I gave my head a strong shake side to side to try to knock those silly thoughts out. I knew as soon as Amy left, I would need a good session of self-relief.
“We’ll need to let that steam run for a while to see the effect. How long do you usually go in it?”
Until I come in it, I thought, but dared not say. Many loads of seed had spilled down that drain, the moist heat bathing my fist as it caressed my hard cock.
Amy was staring at me, waiting for me to answer.
“I don’t really know. I guess it varies. I sort of lose track of time when I’m in there,” I babbled.
Amy giggled, sounding so girlish for a mature woman, and grinned.
“I bet,” she replied, “not a shower to use if you are in a hurry.”
She reached past me and turned the knob, blasting steam out at full force and heat. Her arm brushed my chest, and her hip nudged mine. As she shut the enclosure and turned toward me, her chest briefly caressed my belly. Glancing down, I saw her eyes looking up at me, and further down, her nipples poked hard against her shirt. Although she had closed the door, enough steam had escaped so that we were very warm.
“You look very handsome when you blush,” Amy teased. “Is there anything else we need to measure while we wait for the steam?”