The Cleaner Pt. 01

This is part of a true story that took place in my first year at a university in England.

Spread out around one end of the leafy campus were large residential halls for first year students, ranging from older grey-stone buildings with period architechture to modern red-brick eyesores that had seemingly been knocked up cheaply to meet demand. I'd been allocated a place in one of the latter; in fact it was clearly one of the worst of the lot. Once you'd passed the lobby and basic communal areas it was just floor-upon-floor of long straight corridors lined with box-like one-bed-one-desk rooms, and it was all in need of a bit of maintenance and redecorating.

I'd arrived there as a very socially anxious eighteen year old. Without ever really being the instigator of any social activity, I'd nevertheless managed to go with the flow and attend all the early parties and other events, and settled into a group of friends from neighbouring rooms. Despite this I remained more-or-less of the same disposition, and a girlfriend or even quick flings weren't really on my horizon. I plodded along, fulfilling the basic requirements of socialising and my course, and along the way I did have a lot of enjoyable and memorable times and friendships.

Like most students we were accustomed to either go out every night or otherwise be up most of the night doing something or other, and so with very few taught hours per week and most of my time meant to be taken up with personal studies I soon got into a stereotypical student sleep pattern.

When I did finally retire to my room I would invariably look at Internet porn and masturbate before going to sleep. I remember being paranoid about looking at porn as my Internet connection was the university network, and I'd read over-and-over the section of the guidebook that warned about the consequences of using the network for filesharing or pornography. If I ever had to go to the computer centre and speak to a technician, or even meet with my personal tutor, I always had a nervous feeling that they'd know. Nothing ever happened though, and everyone must've been doing the same.

So back to the start...

It was a couple of weeks in and I was lying in bed in the late morning; not snoozing lazily but suffering with an awful, room-spinning hangover. Suddenly I panicked as there was a quick double-knock on the door of my room and the door was unlocked and the handle turned.

"I hope you're decent... I'm coming in" barked a regional accent.

Increased panic. The door was cautiously only opened an inch for second or two, before a uniformed woman opened it fully and leaned into the room.

"Do you want your room cleanin'?".

OK, so it was some cleaning thing that no one had told me about.

Feeling exposed and embarrassed I sat up halfway and blurted out "I'm really sorry, I'm unwell".

"If you don't want it cleanin' you have to sign this" she said in a bored tone, thrusting a clipboard into the room.

"Hang on, I'll just get up and throw something on", I mumbled nervously, "It'll literally take a sec".

"Don't worry, you're the fourth one just down this corridor" she said in a markedly more friendly way, and tossed the clipboard onto the end of the bed. "I like your duvet cover", she added.

"Thanks", I replied, getting up into a kneeling position on the end of the bed with the covers still over me, and stretching to hand the signed sheet back to her.

"It'll have to be done next time though", she warned, reverting back to the bored tone, and then shut the door and hammered on the next one.

I was pretty much up now anyway, so I felt a bit stupid not having my room cleaned. I lay there for a while listening to the annoying sounds of hoovers and the cleaning women and her colleagues yapping away loudly about their bad husbands and an unflushed turd in the communal bathroom at the end of the hall. I was relieved though, and I felt like the woman had been quite nice and sympathetic, and that perhaps she sensed I was a bit timid.

The next week I forgot it was that day again already, but as soon as I heard their racket down the end of the hall I was up and off to breakfast to get out of the way. I spent a while there to make sure my room would've been done before I went back, but still returned just after the same cleaner from before had just come out of my room.

"Are you going in? I'll leave it unlocked." she said, and quickly moved on.

I still didn't really take in what she looked like, other than that she was an older woman.

As I got ready to go and study, again I listened to the same din of hoovers and doors and the cleaners' loud chatter. This time they were mocking some of the things they'd seen in "this one's" or "that one's" room without caring if "this one" or "that one" was in earshot. It made me smile a few times.

The third time started like the first. I was just half-awake when the door opened again, with the same dialogue. I was fine this time but said I was unwell again just because it sounded better than "yeah I just haven't got up". Maybe she thought I wasn't up to signing the form, or she just couldn't leave it again, but this time it wasn't offered.

"I won't hoover but I'll do you surfaces and bin, OK?"

It was clearly a rhetorical question as she'd already closed the door behind her and started.

I was wide awake now but I just stayed still and acted like I'd gone back to sleep. Through squinted eyes I watched her, for what can't have been more than a minute with the speed she worked. She must've been older than forty, but I'm not good with ages so I couldn't say by how much. I thought she looked matronly - her face and limbs seeming like a normal, slightly overweight older woman, but with disproportionately massive breasts that seemed to occupy her entire upper-body thanks to a high-waisted uniform, and a short apron that began and was tied just beneath them. The uniform was like a long green shirt, and on her lower body she wore black trousers, a bit like leggings but not that tight.

She was mostly facing away from me and the upper part of the uniform covered her ass, so my eyes were drawn to where the apron strings where tied a bit too tightly around her back. As she stretched to clean the top of the mirror the bottom of her shirt lifted a little, showing her trousers riding up slightly between her full ass cheeks.

Facially I doubt anyone else would have said she was great looking or that she'd taken a lot of care of her appearance, but she had something vital and exciting in her expression that grew intensely with familiarity. I don't think I was as much attracted then as just looking because she was there, and the voyeurism gave me a bit of a buzz.

Despite me pretending to be asleep, when she was done she asked me if I was alright. In a feigned tired voice I told her I had a night job a couple of times a week, so I was always shattered on that morning. It wasn't true and It didn't correllate with me previously saying I was unwell but it seemed like a good excuse.

"Oh, poor lad" she said, sincerely. "I've done the bits I can do, OK?".

"Oh yeah, sorry, thanks" I blurted out. She gave a mock stern look and then left as impersonally as usual.

My "sorry "had referred to the bits she was contracted to clean but couldn't get to easily with me there. I'd needed enough space to set up a large drawing board in the room, so it'd ended up that the computer/reading desk was close between the bed and the wall so I could use the bed in lieu of a chair. This also put the one small window to the room near the head of the bed but on the far side. Pretty soon after she'd left I made use of this convenience, flinging open the curtains and swivelling round to log onto the computer, only to finding that my only seminar that day had been postsponed. I closed the curtains again and went straight to a favourite porn site.

I found that as a frequent porn user I'd get increasingly bored of or desensitised to normal pornstar fare, and would get hooked on certain niches for a short time. I started to look at more mature porn around then, and this and the growing excitement about presence of the cleaner both fuelled each other.

Over the next month I was out and about on the cleaning morning a couple of times, and slept in a couple of times but only got the form to sign. Nevertheless, the fantasy and the mature porn preference continued to grow. I knew it was just a silly immature obsession but it occupied my thoughts a lot, even when studying.

One morning on a different weekday I was alone in the main communal area on my own. Someone had left the television on and it was now on some trashy daytime TV show. Two cleaners came in to clean the room, one of them being her. They were engaged in their usual loud chatter and were mocking some people on the TV show., which they were familiar with We shared a few wry looks and laughs about things they were saying, and they ended up involving me in their conversation quite a few times. They could tell I was shy immediately and teased me a bit about it, but I got the impression that they liked me.

The next time I was still in bed again when the cleaner came.

"I guess you missed your favourite program this morning!", she joked.

"I'll probably miss the whole day after last night", I lied, alluding to a fictional exhausting work shift.

"Awww. Better give the hoover a miss again then.", she said sympathetically, and started cleaning the sink area without asking if I wanted the room cleaned this time.

I was lying on my side and found myself getting hard from just being shut in a room with her, and me being in bed. I think more than wanting contact, I just wanted to throw the covers off and wank furiously with her in the room. I didn't do that of course - I kept still apart from twitching my cock, and made do with running my eyes intently around every part of her body. As always it was such a short amount of time and went too quickly.

Then the excitment increased tenfold.

"I just need to do the window bit and desk if I can reach it. I'll try not to disturb you."

I silently nodded like I was half-asleep, and my mind started racing. To clean the desk I imagined she could just walk down the side of the bed and reach most of it, but to do the window sill she'd had to reach right quite a way over the head of the bed where my head was.

She started on the nearest part and was leaning over me so one of her breasts was directly over my head and the other just in my line-of-sight. I stared at them as they swung and bobbed about a little as she quickly cleaned the window sill and wiped around the frame. Being on my side and closer to the same side of the bed as her, I couldn't see much as she leaned further over, but the increasing proximity to her kept my cock hard and throbbing. As she quickly stretched to reach the farthest side of the windowsill her midrift briefly touched the side of my face.

"Oop, sorry", she whispered.

"Oh don't worry about it", I responded.

"Just the desk and then I'll stop bothering you".

"It's fine", I reassured her again.

Instead of getting up and walking round the side of the bed to try to clean the desk as I'd imagined, she knelt on the side of the bed from where she was and leaned right over me, making full contact with my upper body. It didn't last long, but stretching and thrusting to reach over there she was rocking the bed and a loose part of her uniform on her side brushed my face again.

As she moved down the bed to reach the rest of the desk her knees shuffled in around my stomach and upper legs, so that at one point her knees were resting more-or-less either side of my cock, and as the matress moved and the bedding tightened around it I got even harder. I couldn't tell if she came directly into contact with it, but a few inches over and she could've kneeled right on it.

As she was now further down the bed and bending over I stared at her ass from the side, particularly where the trousers pinched in in a few places on her slightly chubby but seemingly muscular thighs and ass.

As she got up the movement made my cock throb again, but I still kept still.

"There we go, all done", she said; probably an innocent phrase from her perspective but one that flooded my mind with fantasies.

"Thanks, I really appreciate it", I said, trying to make it clear that I was perfectly fine with the logistics of what had just happened.

As soon as she'd left I tossed the covers off the bed and my cock sprung up, more engorged than I'd ever seen it. When my hand wrapped around it it felt incredible, and I wanked so hard and fast that in no time at all I was approaching what I knew would be an immense climax.

I was generally restrained and would use a cloth, but on the spur of the moment this time I leapt up and stumbled across the room, arriving at the sink she'd just cleaned just in time to shoot endless strings of thick cum into it and all over the surrounding surface. Something about her having just cleaned it made it more significant somehow. It was visually and physically satisfying, and afterwards I felt exhilarated and exhausted.

The next week I was away on a trip for one of the societies I'd joined, but the whole time I wished I was back there for another, any, encounter with the cleaner. Still, maybe it was for the best; she might actually be really fed up with people making her job harder, and probably moaned about me to her colleagues for all I knew.

For that week I continued to look at the usual mature porn and wank to that and fantasies about the cleaner, but then a few days before she'd be coming next I held off, thinking that if I didn't masturbate for a while beforehand that the next encounter would be heightened. Despite these intentions, on the night before the day, I found myself masturbating casually and then not being able to resist the climax. I'd ended up hopping over and cumming all over the sink again, creating even more of a mess than last time.

In the morning I was awake quite early and anticipating what would happen. I was fully prepared for her to either not clean the room, or if she did, to not have the same contact as last time, but I'd still get something out of it whatever happened, and the anticipation alone was thrilling. I also considered that one time I might actually get a different cleaner and it might be a different situation. Regardless, I was excited, and for the first time I 'd got fully naked in bed and was hard long before she came, slowly masturbating but not to climax. I thought about how she'd leaned over me last time, and I positioned myself on my back this time, closer to the other side of the bed, trying to place myself for the best contact if a similar situation arose.

A little earlier than the usual time I heard the familiar rap on the door and the door opening, more slowly and quietly than she did the others, as if expecting me to be asleep.

"Hi there", she said quietly. "Just the usual. I left a bit more time for yours so I don't have to make such a racket".

"Thanks... you can do the whole lot... I don't mind", I said, feigning tiredness as usual.

Lying on my back I was holding my hard, throbbing cock down between my legs. I thought it'd be really obvious if I moved at all so I tried to stay really still.

"You've made a right mess here" she exclaimed a little louder and in a playful tone, as she started to clean the sink. I'd purposefully left it uncleaned after the night before, as I shaved and washed in the communal areas rather than in my room anyway, and the thought of watching her unknowingly cleaning it up was the one fantasy I'd been having that I could possibly make happen. Now the moment came I panicked and thought I'd gone too far, that it'd be really obvious what had happened there, but she didn't seem to have thought anything unusual of it and I excitedly watched her scrubbing away a little longer than she'd normally have to. There had been thick lines and puddles of cum strewn all over it the night before, but maybe now it passed for the usual remnants of bathroom products she'd see in all the sinks that were actually used.

As she emptied the bin into her trolly and quickly attended to the other other fixtures and fittings, my eyes were fixated on her body and face, as I took in every detail. When she bent over I was mesmerised by her ass, and noticed her her clench her ass cheeks a couple of times as she worked. Her shirt seemed a little looser than usual, perhaps with an extra button undone, and I thought that maybe she wasn't wearing a bra, as I could make out the position of her nipples for the first time and her breasts seemed to move more freely as she swiftly and vigourously sprayed and wiped and dusted her way around the room.

I'd managed to stay motionless as a statue, apart from letting my cock twitch and giving it the occasional hard squeeze when she was facing away from me, which felt incredible. When she'd done with everything else she seemed to hesitate for a second, and then moved in my direction.

"Sorry, I've just got to do these bits on the other side", she half-whispered.

"Thanks, just give me a shove if I'm in the way", I mumbled.

She smiled and leaned over to the window sill. Her breasts were almost immediately just inches above my face, and clearly in the bra-less as I'd thought, gently swaying and circling with what freedom her shirt afforded them. As she reached to the far side of the window sill her breasts rubbed right across my face in a side-to-side path, catching on my nose, and feeling this she jolted back a little and whispered an apology, seemingly without realising what part of her had knocked what part of me.

Now she knelt on the side of the bed as before and leaned right over me to reach the desk, and it was safe to say I was in the right place. This time the full pendulous weight of her breasts was slowly lowered onto my face a couple of times, and while it didn't seem to register with her, it certainly did with me and my cock. I could almost feel her flesh through the thin synthetic shirt, and struggled to both hold down my enormous erection and resist raising my head and rubbing my face against and between her large hanging breasts. Like before I was desperate to expose my throbbing cock and wank myself off right there, but knew I wouldn't.

As before she then moved down to about my waist level and leant over again. I was so caught up in the heat of the moment, that as she leaned over I spontaneously moved my hands down flat by my sides, releasing my cock, now aching to be grabbed with a firm grasp. The weight and taughtness of the duvet prevented it from springing up more than at a narrow angle, and as once again her body briefly rest on mine it was held down flat, the feeling of her weight and movement pressing against it just making me long even more to have a hand around it. I wanted to raise my pelvis up into her and rub up against her hard, but again it was just a manic thought.

Next, would I surprise myself with my recklessness. As she leaned away again I froze and did not move my hands back into position, I just left my cock there standing out at about a thirty-five degree angle, still held down by the duvet. I didn't think she'd felt anything when cleaning the desk, but through squinted eyes as I pretended to be half-asleep, I could see her gaze immediately drawn to this raised point in the duvet. I felt like I was frozen solid, like I was naked and exposed, but so incredibly excited.

To my surprise she then knelt back down on the side of the bed in the same place and seemed to start cleaning the desk again. This time, however, it felt like she was actually trying to rub up against me as if in an unconvincing ploy to feel out what was beneath the covers, at one point slipping so it was digging right into her stomach, and at another seeming to rub her breasts quite hard into my crotch. It sounds like a bizarre act, I know, but it was all just about on the point where it could still have been more my imagination than her really actively trying to either stimulate me or feel what was going on down there.