I was in my Freshman year at college when I decided to move out into my own place.
Granted, it wasn’t the most sound financial decision I ever made, but my mom was fucking unbearable to live with. I was 19, and decided I was going to leave home. Mom was furious, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. We fought for weeks, but Moving Day arrived, and I left.
It was a harsh lesson in financial reality. Very quickly I realized my job at the coffee shop wasn’t going to cut it. I needed extra income – and fast – if I was going to avoid crawling back to my mom in humiliation. Thankfully, the college had a job board on it’s website, and I did odd jobs for a while. It was a hustle, but I could tread water if I was careful.
One day, a wanted ad for house-cleaning services caught my eye. It was in a home that was just a few minutes away from campus, close enough to comfortably bike there and back. I have to be honest, I didn’t have a whole lot of skills to trade. But if there was one thing my mom had taught me to do, it was keep house. The ad was from a couple, not some single white creeper dude, which made me feel safer about it. It couldn’t have been more perfect.
I talked on the phone with the couple, Carlos and Matilda. They were busy professionals with two dogs (“They’re our kids! Ha ha!”). They weren’t slobs, but the house was kind of big and with the dogs, it would sometimes get away from them. It happens. Life is messy.
They needed someone to do a deep clean every month with once-a-week maintenance to keep the place looking nice. They were willing to pay me more than my job at Coffee Bliss, and they were flexible with my schedule so it wouldn’t interfere with my classes. They didn’t mind my long hair and I’m an animal person, so the dogs weren’t going to be a problem. I nailed the phone interview, and they invited me over to finalize the arrangement.
I met with Matilda on my first day. She was in her mid-thirties and took care of herself at the gym. She wasn’t too tall, but I’m a short guy so she was still taller than me. She had that earth-mother shape about her, huge tits, huge ass, and a curvy waist to tie it all together. Her hair was really long, nearly to her waist, and jet jet black. It set off her dark eyes and was so thick and luxurious, you could hear it rustle as she walked. She had a slight accent, Cuban maybe? Her business-casual skirt and top barely hid any of her curvy body, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice her as she showed me around the house.
She was very professional and left me with detailed lists about her expectations, and we arranged for the first deep-clean that weekend. She wouldn’t be at the house, but her husband would be and he could let me in. I hadn’t met Carlos yet, but there were pictures of him around. He was a pretty big guy from the looks of things, with salt-and-pepper hair and beard. I don’t really swing that way, but I wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was a handsome man. There was one picture of him in particular, one with his sleeves rolled up, that stuck in my mind.
I went that next Saturday, bright and early. I wore some old jeans and a t-shirt, because I knew I’d be getting dirty. Carlos met me at the door and, I gotta say, he was impressive in person.
The first thing I noticed was that he was big. Like, works-out-every-day big. Shoulders, chest, thighs, all massive and swelled. The second thing was his eyes, which were a piercing, icy blue. The third was his smile, which was big and friendly and turned his face from Disapproving Principal to Mischievous Uncle in an instant. I don’t know what it was about his energy, but I liked him almost immediately, and I could see why a woman as beautiful as Matilda had put a ring on it.
He directed me to the kitchen, told me what they were expecting, and left me with a pile of cleaning supplies and rubber gloves.
The kitchen took me almost two hours, but by the time I was done it sparkled and smelled faintly of bleach. I’d moved everything, cleaned under it all, swept, mopped, done dishes, I felt like I’d done a good job and, frankly, needed a bathroom break.
The bathroom was next to a home gym. I’d seen it before when Matilda had shown me around. It was all cables and handles and shiny chrome and I found it intimidating. I always meant to go to a gym myself, but I’d never gotten around to it. I’m kind of soft in the middle, to be honest.
Carlos was in there, sitting with his back to me and doing some kind of lifting exercise. The handles on the machine would rise above his head, and then he’d heave them back down, making his back swell and flex. I mentioned that he was big, right? Well, it really came to light when he was shirtless. I could see the striations in the muscles as they strained and pulled, and the sweat on his back shone in the light. I stood there watching him and listened to him huff and grunt. I swear I could smell his sweat, even from where I was standing.
I watched him for so long, he turned around and caught me.
“Hey there,” he said, grinning his dangerous smile.”You all done?” He stood up, and his abs looked like cobblestones under his skin. The hair on his chest was salt-and-pepper too, matted with his sweat. I noticed his nipples. I couldn’t tell you why, but I definitely noticed them and felt myself get aroused. Carlos was a handsome man, but right at that moment I realized he was a sexy man as well.
“Yeah,” I said, unaware of how much I was staring. “I was gonna go do the bathroom now.” (I cringed the moment I heard myself say it.)
“No problem. It’s just there.” He pointed helpfully, wiping the back of his neck with a towel. His bicep swelled up like a coconut in a sock. I was hypnotized by it’s curves, and the way it slipped under his shoulder muscle smoothly, like a machine made of skin and muscle.
“You okay?” He asked and that snapped me out of it. He was looking at me intently, like he was sizing me up. I stopped allowing myself to see how his chest was flexing and remembered I was at a job.
“Oh, yes. Sorry. I’ll just get started.” I scurried off to the bathroom, barely hearing him thank me as I closed the door. My face was red and hot and I was sweating under my clothes. I sat on the toilet and tried to calm down.
My mind was racing furiously. He had totally seen me staring at him, he must have. He had totally caught me. I was flat-out busted and he would probably fire me. Shit, I really needed this job.
I was mildly frustrated and amazed to realize my cock was so hard it almost hurt. I looked down at the tent in my jeans as it wrestled against the fabric.
If you’d told me about the concept of stress erections, I would have totally understood. But all I knew at the time was that my dick was raging and stiff. My jeans dug into my skin painfully, and I had to open them to readjust myself. It was probably a mistake, because the second I felt the smooth, warm skin of my cock in my hand, all I could think about was getting off.
My cock surged when I closed my cool hand around the hot shaft. By the feel of it, this wasn’t going to take long. I was really horny, and fucking my hand felt good, even dry. I noticed a bottle of cocoa butter lotion on the sink, and had my dick slathered with it two seconds later. It smelled sweet and delicious as I slid my hand over my erection, and it was perfectly wet and slick.
This wasn’t a self-care kind of beat off. I wasn’t into loving myself or freeing my sexual spirit or any of that kind of horseshit. All I could feel was my cock and it’s turgid need to cum. I felt it completely taking over my mind. I needed to blow my load so I could think properly again. I was stroking myself fast and hard, almost businesslike, blissfully ignorant of the sticky, slurping noises my fist was making as I stroked that cocoa butter into a froth.
My nut was just about there. I was forgetting to breathe, and one eye was tearing up as my balls lifted and hugged tight. My hips were pumping and I’m sure I was grunting and I remember the very stroke when I thought “That’s all I got . . .”
I came. I came hard. The first gob that shot out of me almost reached the door.
I say ‘almost’ because the door suddenly opened as Carlos chose that exact moment to walk in.
He entered so fast I barely registered his presence before he was treated to a three-foot rope of semen that hit him on the hip. I watched in horror as my load splattered all the way down his leg to his knee. He stopped short in shock, and I saw his blue blue blue eyes open in surprise. Then the second spasm of my orgasm hit me and I shot another blast at him.
I couldn’t stop. I watched helplessly as my dick jerked and jumped and sprayed Carlos (and the bathroom) like an out-of-control lawn sprinkler. My hand just kept moving and my cock felt fucking amazing and there was no way I could quit. It couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds, but it felt like I was cumming for hours. I looked Carlos in his incredible eyes as he stood right in the blast zone and I painted him with warm semen.
The post-orgasm clarity made my stomach drop.
Carlos was going to have to wash his gym shorts. And socks. And shoes. Also, he’d probably need a shower for the gobs on his bare legs. He was staring at himself, wide-eyed and speechless, the fabric of his workout gear striped with rapidly spreading cum stains. He looked back at me, still a little pop-eyed, and then backed out and closed the door. I heard him apologize from the other side.
If there was ever a time I wished the Earth would open up and swallow me whole, that was it.
I was sitting on a stranger’s toilet in a strange bathroom listening to my own semen drip thickly on the tile floor. I wondered if I should clean up the jizz before I ran out of the house, or if I should just make a break for it. Should I give myself up to the police? I’d just committed sexual assault after all. I was certainly going to jail.
I looked at my hand, gloved in a mix of cum and used cocoa butter. It still smelled really good.
Carlos burst into the bathroom again, starling me so bad I screamed something obscene and slipped in the puddle of cum on the floor.
He was in a bathrobe and carrying his workout clothes in his hand. “You’ll need to wash these,” he said, tossing them to me. “After you’ve, uh, cleaned up, wash your clothes too. You can’t track cum all over my house.”
“I’m . . . I’m so so sorry, sir.” I said, humiliated and embarrassed and too freaked to realize my dick was still hanging out. “Please don’t call the police.”
“It’s okay, I just . . . can you, uh, just get everything cleaned up?” He said, his icy eyes looking everywhere but mine.
He had put his robe on in a hurry and hadn’t tied it shut properly. It flared open and I saw his leg was still streaked with lines of cum. I also saw a cock that looked like it was bigger than my arm. No fucking joke. He wasn’t even fully hard and it was formidable. I could smell the sweat from his workout with the musky scent of my cum. My mind was racing, desperate to find a way to fix the situation.
The only choices I could see in front of me were: A) distract him by putting that car-sized cock in my mouth or B) find myself in jail before sunset.
Pretty easy choice.
I put my hand on his leg before he could turn away. “Wait . . .” I said, sinking to my knees and opening his robe.
My legs squished in the cum I’d left on tiles. It was cold by now, and slimy. I knelt in front of him – bringing my face to the rope of cum trickling down his knee – and began to clean up my mess. I stretched out my tongue and softly began licking my shameful load off the man’s leg. I worked from the bottom up, making absolutely sure there wasn’t a trace of jizz left. His muscles were hot and hard under my mouth, and I felt him flex them slightly as I worked. It took me a few passes, I’d cum a lot. When I was done his leg was still wet, just not with my sperm.
This left me face to face with the biggest cock I’d ever seen. I know that’s a worn-out thing to say, but in my defense, I wasn’t too familiar with dicks at that point. Still, I watched porn, I had the Internet, I had a general idea of how big cocks should be. Carlos was sporting a ridiculous package. It was thick, veiny, and had a fat, intimidating head on the end. You could have fit my cock inside his twice, with room left over.
My first thought was “Where the hell am I gonna put that?”
But I knew where it went. I opened my mouth as wide as I could, and slid that cock in as deep as it would go. I almost choked immediately, there was so much dick. I desperately stretched my jaw and thrashed my tongue, but Carlos was just packing my mouth from end to end. I hadn’t even gotten past the half-way mark and my jaw was feeling like stretched wire.
That fat head of his was like a shovel in my mouth, making spit and goo waterfall from my mouth to my chest. If jerking off with that lotion had made a lot of wet noise, Carlos made a goddamn concerto once he was fucking my mouth. Between my desperate gasps for breath, the sticky sound of my wet throat being cored out, and Carlos’ grunting, the room was filled with the sound, smell and taste of cock.
I really should have known it was coming from the way he took my head in his big hands and pushed his cock deep into my face. I should have recognized the way his dick was swelling harder in my mouth. I should have recognized the taste of pre-cum sooner. But I had no idea what was happening until he rammed that monster into my mouth so deep I felt the back of my throat lock around the base of his cockhead.
My throat filled up with cum on his first pulsing spasm. My mouth filled up with his second. I violently coughed out a thick glut of semen on the third, which exploded from my mouth and mixed with the spit on his cock to join the mess on the floor. His fourth pulse blasted cum into my sinuses, stinging and thick. I felt it burst from my nostrils in twin jets that made my nose ache for days. I swallowed desperately, choked and gurgling. I felt hot liquid pouring out of my mouth, spattering my chest and thighs and down my throat in heavy, phlegmy bursts. I bubbled and belched and gagged and made sounds like I was being drowned in a sump pump while his balls emptied themselves onto me.
Finally, after a breathless lifetime, he sighed in satisfaction. His Winnebago dick pulled out of the wet ruin he’d made of my mouth. I coughed a thick wad of cummy slime onto the floor, almost unconscious from the lack of air. It took me a bit to clear my throat and swallow my mouth empty enough to talk. I looked up from my knees, covered in spit and cum, and hoped that I’d at least started making things right.
Carlos squeezed his cock clean with his hand, wiping the gobby remains of his load on my face. “I’ll clean that up,” I said, pointing to the jizzy mess of the floor. “I’ll make it spotless.”
He walked off, still wearing his robe, still dripping cum from his huge cock. I watched him go, staying on my knees and wondering how I was going to get sperm out of the towels. I was aware that I’d gotten hard again, and I started jerking off with the slimy mess dripping down my chest. I managed to rub myself to a small, quiet orgasm in that bathroom as I remembered the way his cum had felt blasting out of my nose.
Then, I got the bathroom spotless.
As I was leaving, Carlos was smiling and friendly. It was like nothing had ever happened. If I wasn’t still tasting his seed in the back of my throat, I would have thought I’d dreamed the whole thing.
He told me to come back in a couple of days for another cleaning and to wear something a little more professional. “I want you to take this job seriously, and a work uniform is part of being employed,” he said. If I needed one, he said they’d be happy to provide it. I should have thought about the offer, but I was still off-kilter from our bathroom encounter (and two orgasms) and just agreed.
He put a pile of neatly stacked cash in one hand, shook the other (the very one I’d been jerking off with ninety minutes ago), and walked me to the door.
I wasn’t scheduled to go over again for a couple of days, and my stomach ate itself inside out for that entire time. I was absolutely convinced I was going to get a visit from police or campus officials or someone who would want to have a conversation with me about my inappropriate behavior. I was sure I was fired. I had no idea how I was going to make my rent or buy my books.
But nobody came, nobody called. The world just kept ticking away, completely unconcerned. Eventually the days rolled around to the next cleaning appointment. With a pounding heart, I messaged Matilda and asked if she still needed me to come by. It took me an hour to write a three line text. My hands shook the whole time.
After a ten-minute eternity my phone buzzed with her reply. Her message said to come on by after class and thanked me for checking in. Absolutely nothing to indicate she knew that I’d used her own cocoa butter lotion to defile her bathroom. And her husband, for that matter.
It seemed like the coast was clear. The only person who seemed upset about anything was me. I still needed the money. Bills don’t wait for anyone. What could I do?
I showed up on schedule, knocking on their door and hoping nobody could hear my heart pounding away in my chest. I’d put on black slacks and a button down shirt that I could take off before the cleaning really started. It was too warm for the outfit, but I wanted to appear as professional as possible. I could feel the sweat running down my back as Matilda answered the door and smiled at me.
She must have been getting ready to go somewhere. She was wearing this black top, low cut and tight. Her tits were practically spilling out, and it was hard not to notice that the one button keeping them contained appeared to be under tremendous stress. Her tapered pants hugged tight to her waist, but clung to her massive ass so tightly I couldn’t help but see that she wasn’t wearing anything under them. She had this chunky, colorful necklace that matched the four or five rings on her fingers, and they pulled the outfit from somber to playful and fun. I noticed all this in seconds, right before I noticed that my dick was getting hard again.
I wondered just what the fuck was wrong with me and why my penis hated me.
It didn’t stop me from watching her ass bounce as she walked into the kitchen. She was in the middle of making some late lunch, and asked me if I wanted some. I was a student. I was living on ramen and stolen courtesy chocolates. An actual meal cooked by an actual person on an actual stove was a mind-blowing luxury. The smell of paprika and sauteed onion was filling the room, and my stomach growled as she effortlessly flipped an omelette in the pan
We ate, talked about what she wanted me to clean while I was there, and I felt my anxiety finally calm down. Maybe things were okay after all. She had specifically mentioned that the bathroom was excellent and she was very happy with the deep cleaning of the kitchen. I took a deep breath of relief, and ate my lunch like a man who’s cheated death. It was the best omelette I’d ever had.
Later, she cleared the plates from the table. But as she did it, she leaned forward and, I swear to God, her tits just spilled into view. Not bare, mind you, just THERE, plump and soft. It was just like those teen sex comedies where the sexy MILF puts a low-cut shirt right in the protagonist’s face. I couldn’t help but stare. Not just because they were an *amazing* pair of tits, but because they were filling my whole cone of vision. I squeezed my legs together as I saw juuuuuust a hint of areola above her shirt line. It felt like she took a long time to gather the single dish in front of me, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds before she was across the kitchen and putting dishes in the dishwasher.
“Oh, hey,” I said, snapping out of my tit-soaked daze. “I can do that.”
“It would be rude to make you do it.” She said, and her smile was something that I felt run from my eyes all the way to my cock. I watched her ass intently as she bent over and put the plates in the bottom rack. The woman made those pants talk. I was glad I had a table to sit at because my loose slacks were getting tight in bad places.
I counted to ten and thought about baseball to distract myself as she walked back to the table. She sat across from me and rested her tits on her elbows and I realized I didn’t know shit about baseball.
I watched those huge tits bulge against her shirt as they settled. My cock was trying to burst out of my pants like those facehugger aliens from that old movie. Jesus, was there something in the air inside this house? I had spent a total of four hours in their home by that point, and more than three of them had been with an embarrassingly intense erection.
“I also wanted to tell you,” she said, looking me directly in the eye and silently daring me to look at her tits again, “Carlos was very happy with your work too.”
The bottom fell out of my stomach and I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead.
She walked over to where I was sitting in my flop sweat. Effortlessly she spun my seat around to face her. I could no longer hide my suspiciously lumpy lap under the table.
She leaned into me so her tits pressed heavily into my chest. I could feel their weight on my body and her lips were right at my ear when she breathed “Especially when he came in your mouth.”
I felt all the blood drain out of my face. My heart went from a normal beat to a fast purr. I could feel her tits through my shirt, and my cock was practically bouncing inside my pants. I knew I was breathing hard, but couldn’t stop myself. I was pinned to the chair, her arms bracketing me on both sides as she pressed into my body and softly sucked my earlobe into her mouth.
“But, if you’re going to work here, you’re going to need to wear your uniform.” She stood up suddenly and quickly. I was left in the chair, shaking, sweaty, and painfully erect. I didn’t see where she went because I was trying to catch my breath, but a small bundle of clothes fell in my lap. Even folded up, I could see it was a maid’s uniform.
Well, it would have been, if there was more of it. There was a half-shirt, a miniskirt with suspenders, a tiny apron with frills, and knee-high stockings. I could have probably fit the whole thing into a wallet.
“Put it on.” Said Matilda, in a stern voice that cut through my thoughts and had me on my feet before I even realized I was moving. “You’re on the clock.”
I turned to leave, and she yelled at me, sharp and piercing. “Where are you going? I gave you your instructions!”
“I’m I’m I’m just going to the bathroom to change!” I said, desperately.
“Put. It. On.” She said, low and mean. I suddenly understood exactly what she meant.
“But . . . I . . .” My shirt was stuck to my back with sweat. If I so much as unzipped my pants halfway, my cock was going to spring free like a horse from a barn. But I wasn’t being given a choice, I was being given a command. With my stomach squeezing inside out, I pulled off my shirt and began unbuckling my belt. My nipples were hard, bunched up tight as I felt the air moving past them.
“Faster!” She barked, and I hopped on one foot trying to get my pants off over my shoe. It went about as well as you’d think, and I fell on my ass, one leg in the air, still tangled in my pants.
“God dammit.” She sighed, and marched over to stand above me, blocking out the light. “Are you really too stupid to do one, simple thing?” Her strong arms yanked my leg upright, excised my shoe, and relieved me of my pants. They went flying across the room as she threw them carelessly aside. Only my underwear was keeping me from being naked as the day I was born. The cold linoleum pressed against my ass, and I watched in horror as her eyes fell on my cock, tenting up my briefs like a beanpole. My body decided I wasn’t humiliated enough and my balls chose that moment to pulse and send a delivery of pre-cum into my Fruit of the Looms. We both watched the cumstain begin to spread from the peak of my dick tent.
“Are you *kidding* me?” She hissed.
I saw her raise her foot, but I wasn’t quite aware of what was happening until she ground her shoe against my dick, painfully and mercilessly. I squealed like a pig getting a brand. Yelling, I squirmed away. My underwear bunched off my ass to drag between my legs uselessly, leaving my guilt-boner out and free, sticky with my own shame cum. She ripped those old briefs off me like they were paper, and I was naked. Like, naked naked, cowering on the floor, surrounded by the maid’s uniform. My uniform.
Matilda kneeled down between my legs, forcing them open. She took my hard penis in her hand and squeezed, really tightly. I felt the head of my cock swell until I felt like it might pop, and I cried out at the painful pressure. “You had better get rid of this, “ she thumped my dick with her forefinger, “before you put on your expensive uniform. I won’t tolerate stains.”
I did what I could as I gathered the tiny outfit in my hands. My erection bobbed stubbornly as I put on the little skirt and pulled on my tight, white crop top before fastening the suspenders up over my shoulders. The stockings were a little difficult, I’d never worn any before, but I got them over my thighs eventually. There was no underwear with the uniform, and my cock made a ridiculous tent of the miniskirt.
She glared at me as I stood before her, blushing and sweaty. I had no idea why I was putting up with this, other than my bills were due and I had no way of paying them. Was it worth all this, I wondered, desperately hoping my erection would fade already.
Coming up behind me, I was briefly delighted at the feel of her breasts pushing against my back. Then her hand was on my cock and stroking hard, with no lube of any sort. “I thought I told you to get rid of this obscene erection,” she said in my ear. “You’re terrible at listening to directions, it seems. But I’ll get the lesson into your head.” Her hand went faster, the friction painful but not painful enough to eclipse the pleasure. I couldn’t help but gasp.
“If your cock is hard, you can’t focus. You don’t have enough brain cells to do both. So I’m gonna make sure my maid cleans the house right, and doesn’t fuck it up. Because when her cock is hard, she can’t think straight.” I was so focused on what she was doing to my dick, I didn’t even hear her misgender me. I couldn’t quite decide if I liked the way her hand felt – hot and stinging – but my penis was rock hard and pointing straight out. I looked down and saw precum oozing all over and dripping on the floor.
“You’re a stubborn girl, aren’t you?” She hissed in my ear. I caught it that time, and I turned my head to correct her. But before I could, my ass was suddenly invaded by her finger. I squawked out loud. “Looks like we have to get the cum out of you the hard way,” she said, pressing her finger into me and pushing on things deep inside. I could hear the cruel smile in her voice.
She was rude about fingering my ass, wedging her digit into my hole deep and fast. My sphincter stung from the stretch and I yelped at the immense feeling of being suddenly penetrated. I felt my knees go a little rubbery, and it was only the pressure of her tight grip on my erection that kept me on my feet.
The first finger was just to open my butt up. The second was for proper leverage as she pressed on my prostate like a button labeled ‘free money.’ “Hurry the fuck up.” She barked, somehow jerking me off even faster.
So, I came. God help me, I came. I think I was making some kind of animal noises, but I couldn’t hear them. The friction fire of her stroking was bright and hot and hurt a lot, but my cock was blasting cum all over the floor. Her fingers in my ass kept rubbing the bean of my prostate, making my balls spasm and pump cum in steady, thick, gobs. I wobbly stood on weak knees, cumming helplessly and feeling my ass stretched wide open.
My ears were ringing as the post-cum clarity set in. My cock was on fire, rubbed raw and angry. My ass was aching, my hole feeling bruised. I was kneeling in front of a two-foot, fan-shaped spatter of my semen, sprayed out over the kitchen floor. What the fuck was I doing?
I felt her strong hand on the back of my head, and my face was pushed relentlessly towards the puddle of cum on the ground. I barely turned my face in time to keep my nostrils clear as she pressed me down into my own jizz. It was still warm. I breathed some in, making me cough and snort. My vision went stinging and blurry as my right eye sank completely beneath the wet, gluey surface.
“You’re here to clean,” I heard her say. “Start right there.”
For a brief, silly moment I thought she meant with a rag or something. But as my mouth worked and I got a taste of my own cum, I realized I was going to have to clean the floor the same way I cleaned Carlos’ leg: with my tongue. I had never really eaten my own cum before, and now here I was, licking up my second load in less than a week. It wasn’t unpleasant, salty and still warm, just slimy and thick. Some of it was hard to lick up. I had to literally suck some thicker blobs up off the floor, slurping and gulping.
When I was done, or rather, when I was done to her satisfaction, I heard her get up and walk away. “Finish cleaning the kitchen,” she called out, “then the living room. You will see me after and we will review your work.” She looked back at me over her shoulder. “Don’t let me catch sight of that wretched cock again.”
The costume made cleaning a little awkward. It didn’t cover very much, and it didn’t offer much in the way of pockets or utilitarian comforts. But I kept my electric bill firmly in mind as I scrubbed the sink and swept the floors. What’s a little cum-eating compared to the peace of mind that comes with knowing your utilities will stay on another month, right? Besides, it’s not like my cum tasted that bad.
The kitchen was sparking and the living room was neat as a pin when I went upstairs to let Matilda know I was done. She was in her bedroom, and before I even got to the door, I could hear that she was watching porn. I felt my traitorous dick stir again, even with the light abrasions she’d left me with.
The bedroom was done in magenta tones, with a gorgeous bedspread of rich auburn and plum. One wall was dominated by a ridiculously large television which was currently displaying a freckled woman with semen covering most of her face. As I watched, a cock moved into frame and deposited another load, filling her smiling mouth with a thick mat of goo.
“Are you done?” Asked Matilda from the enormous bed. She was laying back, legs spread, openly rubbing her pussy through her panties. She wasn’t looking at me in the slightest, her attention was on the screen behind me. I could hear the movie playing the sounds of four men jerking off and grunting.
“Yes, miss. I’m done.” I figured it would pay to be as contrite as possible. I knew I was going to have problems with my cock already, as it was responding to Matilda *and* the wet orgasm noises in the background. I could feel it swelling, even after the intense load I’d cleaned up downstairs. I knew I needed to get out of there as quickly as I could.
“This is my husband’s pornography,” she said, pressing her fingers into her pussy through the soft fabric of her underwear. “He likes cumshot porn. The sort with an absurd amount of semen. Like the load you shot on him.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but she barked at me to shut my mouth . . . so I shut my mouth. “Look at that poor girl on the screen.” She commanded. “Do you think she likes sitting there while all those men empty themselves onto her?”
I turned to look at the huge screen, craning my neck up to look at the subject of the film, now barely recognizable under a thick, cummy mass. I watched a faceless penis-haver jerk off and add somehow even more, then quickly get out of frame. From what I could see, the woman was smiling. I mean, you know, in between the swallowing so she could breathe, that is. “I think she does, yes.”
“Do you think she likes being treated like a cummy little whore? Kneeling in cum, feeling it pool in her lap?” Matilda’s breathing was getting ragged behind me, the bed creaking rhythmically with her hand. “Do you think she likes shitting cum for a week?”
What do you say when your possibly crazy boss asks you a question like that while making you watch porn in a maid’s uniform with garters? You fucking say yes, that’s what.
“Yes. I think she likes being the cum hole for them. I think she likes it most when she can swallow some too.” My heart pounded at the brazen words I was saying.
“She’s a whore,” hissed Matilda, her cunt sounding soupy and soaked. “Her whole purpose is a receptacle. She only has value when there’s cum to be eaten. Isn’t that fucking right?” The bed was creaking faster, and there was a thick, wet sound as she wedged what sounded like half her hand in her cunt. “And she fucking loves it, doesn’t she?”
I watched the woman on the screen lap up an absurdly large load of sperm from a mirror and grin a tired, but enthusiastic smile. A thick gob of syrupy cum drooled from her mouth for a couple of wet inches before she slurped it back up and swallowed. I listened to Matilda’s frantic masturbating behind me, her breathing hissing between her harsh questions. I felt my cock blast back into life, making another ridiculous tent of my skirt.
“She absolutely loves it, miss. She knows that’s all she’s good for, but she still wants to be the best. I can see why your husband likes it, she’s a good, uh, a good whore. Cum whore. She’s a good cum whore.” I was kind of reaching for things to say and my dick wasn’t making it any easier to think on my feet. Or these wedge heels, for that matter.
“Look at me, you filthy bitch.” I heard her say, and I honestly wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or the woman on the screen. I decided to turn around anyway.
She had ditched the underwear at some point and was working two fingers in and out of her very wet pussy. My cock noticed this before I’d really had time to process what I was looking at, and it throbbed a bit of pre-cum out of me. I felt it slowly trickle down my cockhead before dripping to the floor.
“Tell me how much she loves being just a mouth with tits. Fucking tell me!”
“She’s only happy when her face is slimy and warm!” I blurted. “She wants the first taste of the day to be cum, and jizz to be the last thing she eats at night. No questions asked, just loads eaten. I’m totally jealous of how happy she is.”
If you asked me where that came from, I couldn’t tell you.
“Fffuckkk . . .” moaned the woman on the bed, before her hips suddenly jerked and her pussy squirted a hot stream of liquid four feet across the room. She gasped and writhed and hammered her fingers in and out of her as her vagina convulsed and heaved. I watched her left foot curl into a tight little fist while she shuddered all over.
She lay there for a good five minutes, just breathing and slowly rotating her hips. Her hand made these wet slurping noises as she worked her shiny-wet fingers slowly through her swollen pussy lips. I didn’t know what else to do, so I listened to the porn behind me while she recovered her breath before looking up. My cock continued to throb, painfully and insistent.
“What the fuck are you still doing here?” She asked. “You want to get paid, is that it?” She reached over and produced a purse from I don’t know where and threw a handful of crumpled bills at me. “Get out. Take that filthy, drippy erection out of my sight.”
I grabbed my money, and I got the fuck out.
Somehow I got home and changed. I sat in my room, on the edge of the bed and looked at the wrinkled fan of bills in my hand. They were some large bills. I was holding enough money to pay off all my utilities and make rent. With a little left over, if I was shrewd.
I mean, it wasn’t a life-changing amount of money or anything, but it was more physical cash than I’d ever actually held in my own hands before.
There was an immense feeling of relief that washed over me. I took a look at the itty bitty uniform they’d given me, and I was actually able to smile at the thing. It had been a weird day, but it had ended on a high note, and I was a little startled to realize my cock was still hard.
I figured I deserved a treat, and I decided to enjoy myself with a good, old-fashioned wank. I lay back and stoked myself and my thoughts kept returning to the immense screen. I thought about the freckled woman who had been just demolished by cum at the end of the scene. I thought about the way her mouth had worked as she swallowed, how she’d had to snort blobs of cum out of her nose every now and then. I stroked myself faster and faster as I remembered the way the endless dicks had just been pouring their cum on her, one after the other. I thought about how it must have taken a room full of guys all jerking off together to be able to get that much cum into one person.
That thought pushed me past the point of no return. I gleefully pumped my dick towards release, thinking about the way my eye had sunk into a pool of my own cum. I thought to myself that *I* had been a good little cumslut too. I didn’t even realize I’d shot cum across the top of my head until I woke up stuck to my own pillow.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/rzk6tj/the_maid_part_1_mm_mf_mmf_cross_dressing_cum_cum