Maid for Michael's Pleasure

When I first began to live as a woman, I worked evenings as a barmaid, but it didn't quite pay the rent. So I advertised for cleaning jobs.

And Michael was one of my first customers..

In his mid fifties and divorced, Michael lived in a ramshackle three-storey Victorian townhouse. To tell the truth, he needed a builder more than a cleaner!

But anyway, there was always plenty to do..

There were miles of old wooden balustrades to polish, and architraves full of spiders that were so high up I needed to balance on a stool to reach the cobwebs with a long feather duster.

Yet I liked working for Michael..

I went there two mornings a week, letting myself in with my own key. On the first of my weekly visits I'd find a note telling me what he wanted me to do, and on the second I'd find an envelope with my pay in it.

After the initial interview, I hardly ever saw Michael. He was a busy city executive, never likely to be home on Tuesday or Friday mornings. So I had his house all to myself. It was in a really peaceful neighbourhood, and you could hear birds singing in the garden. I enjoyed the work and, to tell the truth, relied on the money.

Then one Friday morning, I got quite a shock..

I turned up for work as usual, only to find Michael there!

I opened the door and he was standing in the hallway, just waiting for me. I was quite startled, and must have jumped with fright.

"Sorry, Carrie!" he exclaimed, "I didn't mean to scare you. I'm here because I've started working from home more often, so we'll be seeing quite a lot of each other from now on. I hope it won't bother you?"

"Oh no, not at all!" I lied gaily, mourning the many little liberties I would no longer be able to take.

"That's good," he continued, "because I have a proposition to make. Perhaps we could share a coffee in the kitchen while I explain it to you?"

I smiled and followed him submissively into the kitchen. Michael was tall, dark and sultry. He spoke with a deep, commanding voice, and was every bit my type of guy except that he was much too old. I was 23 and went for older men, but not guys over 40.

Of course, nowadays I call a 40-year-old guy a toyboy! But that's another story..

He already had the percolator on, so I sat at the table while he poured us both a cup. For a few moments we sat in silence, making a great show of sipping our drinks while I tried awkwardly to avoid eye contact. I was utterly tongue-tied, and so nervous I was beginning to tremble.

At long last, Michael broke the silence..

"I'm a busy man, so I'll cut to the chase," he began. "I would like you to do a little more than you do just now."

"I could manage another hour, I guess.." I replied.

"No, no! That's not what I mean at all," he interrupted. "While you're here, I want you to do things differently."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Well, I'd like you to dress differently - like maids used to dress. I'd buy all the clothes of course, it wouldn't cost you a bean. It's just a peculiarity of mine I'd like you to try and satisfy - and there's something more.."

"What?" I asked gingerly.

"I'd like to follow you around and watch while you work," he said.

I didn't like where this was going and my face must have shown it, because he looked uneasy.

"Of course," he added hastily, "I'd make it very much worth your while."

"How much worth my while?" I asked.

A little negotiating followed, and we came to a deal. I left that morning with more than enough extra money to buy the stuff Michael wanted me to wear, and on Tuesday I turned up at the usual time, dressed to please.

Once more, Michael was waiting for me in the hallway..

I took off my raincoat and did a couple of twirls, so that he could see how I'd spent his money. The black minidress I'd bought had a white collar and frilly white cuffs that matched a frilly white apron.

I wore black, seamed hold-up stockings, the tops of which were visible at the hem. Underneath and out of Michael's sight so far, I'd put on a lacy black bra and matching panties. My shoes were three-inch, black patent leather stiletto courts, and I had in my coat pocket a frilly little cap that nicely matched the apron, which I belatedly put on for him.

"Oh, Carrie!" he exclaimed, beaming with delight, "This is even better than I imagined! And now to work! Can you please start by dusting the drawing-room chandelier?"

"Of course," I replied.

The chandelier in the drawing-room was just about the hardest bit of dusting in the whole house. The ceiling was ever so high, and I had to stand atop a short stepladder and stretch my arm fully to reach with the longest feather duster.

I climbed the ladder and perched cautiously on the upper step. Stretching my arm fully, I put my weight on one leg and let the other hover in the air, thus keeping a precarious balance as I warily dusted the tingling crystals above my head.

At the same time, Michael was peeping up my skirt and getting awfully excited..

"This is simply magnificent!" he said, finding it impossible to resist placing a hand upon my nylon-clad calf.

I wobbled, dropped the duster, and would have fallen, but that Michael took a firm grip round my waist. He lifted me down, and I dropped dizzily into his arms.

He kissed me passionately on the lips. I didn't respond, but nor did I give him any discouragement. I was shocked and confused, and didn't really know what I wanted to happen next.

He carried me into his bedroom..

It was just along the corridor; a bright, airy room with a large window overlooking the garden. He lay me on his king size bed and began stroking my naked thighs above my stocking tops.

"I need to get back to work," I said.

"Nonsense!" he replied, "Now it's my turn with a duster!"

Smiling, he held before him the short feather duster I used on the furniture.

"B-but what are you going to dust?" I asked, utterly perplexed.

"You'll soon see!" he replied merrily.

He was terribly excited, and trembling so much with anticipation his face had actually changed colour. Timorously, he lifted my legs onto his shoulders, then slipped my panties down onto my thighs, exposing my boy-bits.

He frowned a little, perhaps disappointed by my tiny, shrivelled cock. By design, my tight little panties had pushed my balls back into my body and squeezed my cock out of sight between my butt cheeks.

I'd become so good at this I'd even been on beach holidays and worn a bikini without anyone guessing what was really down there. But it always took my puny cock a while to recuperate, and in the meantime poor Michael had begun wondering if I hadn't already had some kind of preliminary surgery.

However, he decided to persevere..

He ran the duster up and down over my squashed boy-bits, and was soon rewarded. My cock responded quickly, stiffening to its full four inches while I began to groan with belated pleasure.

kicking off a heel, I began to gently massage Michael's ear and neck with my nylon-clad toes as he ran the duster this way and that across my quivering chipolata, teasing the sensitive underside of my tender little cherry until, sooner perhaps than he anticipated, I cried out with singular pleasure as the first of several strong spurts of cream splashed across my smooth, naked belly.

Michael was all smiles..

"Was that nice?" he asked.

"Yes it was! Very nice!" I confessed.

"Good! And now, if you don't mind, it's my turn!"

He took off his trousers, revealing a throbbing six inch meat-rod glistening with precum. Anxious to please my ageing adonis, I scooped the cream off my belly and rubbed most of it onto his pulsating cock, saving just a little for my rim.

Then I lifted my legs off his shoulders and placed them either side of his manly, hirsute torso, where he took a firm hold of them.

I let him slide me gently down the bed till, standing at the foot, he was able to mount me just where I lay. Michael entered me gently, working his manhood slowly at first, then expertly increasing the pace and depth of his thrusts till I moaned softly with pleasure.

It was one of the sweetest fucks I'd ever had..

He worked my boy-pussy into spasms of sheer ecstasy that began even before I felt the first blast of his warm cum explode within my quivering bumhole.

We groaned in synchronicity as he ploughed deep inside me while I gripped his manly torso tightly with my nylon-clad knees, helping him to thrust as far as he could possibly go.

With the last of his cream bubbling from my tender rim, I rolled off the bed and, in a paroxysm of pleasure, fell to my knees before his feet. Taking his slowly deflating cock in my mouth, I breathed fresh life into it whilst eagerly lapping every last drop of our commingled juices, which I greedily swallowed.

"The usual time on Tuesday, I hope?"

He asked with a saucy smile, and I said nothing in reply, but kissed him on the cheek. He walked me to the door, his arm around my waist. On the doorstep we kissed once more, and Michael handed me an envelope, which I took without saying anything, even though it wasn't Friday.

On the bus home, curiosity got the better of me and I looked inside. It contained more than three times what we'd agreed!

Right away, I realized what I'd just become. But guess what?

I couldn't have cared less!