Hooray! My wife Sally is away on another sales trip. She’s a lovely lady who does her job well and earns much more money than I could, so I stay at home and do the housework. We are lucky enough to have a cleaning lady who comes in three times a week to “Do” for us. Sally doesn’t mind this, as she says that if she were at home and I was working she would employ a cleaner anyway. The cleaner does the heavy work, vacuuming, floors, washing up when needed, we tend to eat out a lot, breakfast being the only meal usually eaten at home. This is usually a light affair often no more than champagne and scrambled eggs, when Sally is home, or tea and toast for me when alone.
Sal usually goes away for between one and two weeks, works hard selling formal wear to local dress shops, bridal wear, evening gowns, party and prom dresses, that sort of thing. Also of course the underwear that goes with it.
Sal has an extensive wardrobe of her own, many of the dresses she buys from the fashion house she works for, at very heavily discounted prices and she often wears them when we go out for the evening. She has made several sales after people have met her and admired her clothes. She will also sell some of her own dresses, second-hand, to friends and family, which is a nice little sideline.
So, Sally’s off again, fed and watered, and I won’t see her for a week or more. It’s early so I’ll have another cup of tea and think about what to do today. The cleaner’s due today (Monday) so about all I can do at the moment is inspect Sal’s wardrobe and undies drawers. Just have a look to see if there is anything new or any of my old favourites are still in there. There is also the laundry basket to check out, there’s usually a pretty skirt, blouse or some nice panties and camisoles in there.
I have to play it cool while Sal is home, she has no idea that I cross dress in her clothes, but now she’s gone, I can allow my excitement to rise.
There’s a lovely pair of satin cami knickers in the basket, near the bottom, so it must have been a couple of days since Sal wore them. Pale powder blue, white lace around the legs and little panels of lace at the sides, just under the waistband. Lovely!
A quick sniff and the start of an erection, they are so soft and silky and would feel lovely against my stiff cock. Oh, to hell with it, they have Sal’s essence on them anyway.
I wrap it around my tool and stroke gently, the silky material feeling cool and luxurious against the rapidly stiffening cock. I have time before the cleaner arrives, so I stroke harder, my knees begin to wobble and I kneel down on the floor, tip out the laundry basket in front of me, It’s mostly non sexy items in it, jeans, a couple of T shirts and a jumper, but there are also a couple of nylon half slips and a long blue one! Lots of lace and frills. Two white, and a pale blue one that matches the panties in my hand.
Now I have to decide. Shall I carry on wanking into the panties or stop and put the pale blue slip on? The trouble is that if I do that I might get carried away and forget the time and the cleaning lady. The thought of her puts me off my stroke (Literally!) and I decide to stop what I’m doing altogether, but I whip my trousers down and take my boxers off, replacing them with the pale blue panties, then on go my trousers again, I decide not to put the slip on, though I’m very tempted, but it might be noticeable to the cleaner under my T shirt. Then I gently put all the clothes back into the laundry basket, including my boxers, which must feel pretty lonely in there with all the soft feminine clothing.
I feel as randy as hell of course, but I have to control myself, so I make a cup of tea and get a coffee ready for the cleaner, for when she arrives. I leave my tea on the kitchen table, wander upstairs to check out Sal’s wardrobes, she has two and three undies drawers. I open her “Formal” wardrobe, just in time to get a quick glance of the chiffon, satin and silk gowns before I hear the back door open and the cleaner arrive.
The cleaner, Mrs T, is a good looking lady, about sixty years old, She’s always well dressed in what I suspect is either charity shop or supermarket clothing. Sensible in style, but smart none the less. She always brought her cleaning clothes in a carrier bag, to put on after she arrived. I allowed her to use our bedroom to change into her working clothes.
Mrs T was not a happy lady that day, her washing machine had broken down a couple of days before and her washing was mounting up at home. We chatted around this problem for a few minutes, discussed the availability of launderettes, repair men and so on. The upshot of the conversation was that there is no laundrette in the area and the cost of repair put that out of the question. I suggested that she bring the washing around to our house and get it washed in our machine and that she could do that on her next cleaning day. She would have to do it in her own time though. She could do the wash while working of course, but she would have to work an extra hour after the washing was done. I was sure I could find something extra for her to do.
Mrs T was so grateful for this offer that she gave me a kiss on the cheek, said “Thanks so very much” and got on with her cleaning.
She stayed an extra ten minutes, doing an extra special job in gratitude, something I didn’t want her to do, as I kept getting raging erections as the lacy blue cami knickers rubbed against my cock. I had to keep sitting down, pretending to relax until the erection passed. The strange thing was that Mrs T seemed to look more attractive when I had the erection and I wondered what sort of underwear she was wearing and whether widows wore the same sort of undergarments as other ladies of that age. I had a flash of an idea that if she was still in mourning, that her underwear would be black. Black panties, or perhaps knickers, black bra, black petticoat perhaps? She wasn’t wearing black stockings or tights, they were tan, I wondered which, what about a suspender belt or corset? If she wore those, would they be black as well? Perhaps I would find the answer to some of these questions on Wednesday.
Finally Mrs T left, saying that she would bring some of her washing with her next time she came. She said that there were about two washes and that she would have to play catch up to get it all done. So, I told her that would be another extra hour she would have to work and she said that that would be fine. Then she left, giving me a friendly wave.
Alone at last! My prick was aching, as were my balls. I wanted to wank myself off in the panties there and then, in the kitchen, but decided that this was the time, but not the place, as the windows were wide open and the neighbours might see in, especially that nosey old boy who overlooked us. Mind you, I didn’t see much of him when Sally was away, but I couldn’t be too careful.
I went upstairs when the erection subsided for a minute, I really didn’t want to come in my blue panties yet, but when I thought of them and of the exploring I was about to do in Sal’s wardrobe. The erection came up again. I was out of control. I pulled my trousers down, then stripped off all my clothes, except for the panties, opened the wardrobe door, saw those lovely dresses hung up in there and I started to come. I didn’t really need to stroke myself, I just shot a load of cum into the panties, then falling to my knees, my face level with the dresses, I grabbed hold of my cock, wanked hard and shot spurt after spurt onto the wardrobe floor, my head fell forward and was engulfed in the long silky floaty dresses that smelled of Sally. My nostrils filled with her scent, my face in all those dresses, and me cumming in the panties and on the wardrobe floor. Oh what a mess, thank heaven I hadn’t soiled the dresses, that would have been a disaster, as much as I would have liked to, I had no way of cleaning them, and I couldn’t very well take them to the dry cleaners and ask them to clean off the cum stains could I?
It had been an eventful day, so I removed the panties and had a long soak in the bath, then decided to call it a day, the washing could wait until tomorrow and there was little else I could do. So it was down the pub for me, a couple of pints and a deep and meaningful conversation about how to save the world, then home to bed for an early night. A good day I thought, I’ve helped someone out, met my mates down the pub and had a bloody good wank. I’ll miss Sally in a few days of course, but in the meantime I can have some fun on my own, in my own way.
Not much of a day yesterday, I had a wank into one of Sally’s clean slips while still in bed, I had a lovely cum, but came all over the sheets instead of into the slip, so I had to wash the sheets as well as the other clothes. The rest of the day I did ordinary things, mowed the lawn, started to weed the drive and cleaned the inside of the car, a rather old, but good Mini, ideal for shopping, or for drives into the city. No good for Sal though, she drives an Audi Estate.
Mrs T arrived as usual this morning, with a load of washing which she plonked on the kitchen floor. We had our usual drinks and she went upstairs to change into her work wear. A chance not to be missed, so I had a very quick look through her laundry bag. Fuck it! I thought, no undies, not even a pair of bloomers! Oh well, they would be “Sensible” anyway no doubt, and of no interest to me if that were the case.
As I sat down again, Mrs T came in and said that she would put her washing in before starting work.
I said, “Okay,” and she asked me to help her, as she didn’t know how to work the machine.
I went into the laundry room to see her placing each item of clothing individually into the machine, in went a cotton blouse, in went a denim skirt, in went a nylon housecoat, in went everything, one item at a time and nothing exciting at all, no undies, no nighties or anything that could be anything but work wear.
"Never mind," I thought, "I’m just doing her a favour, I shouldn’t expect any reward (Except for the extra couple of hours work)"
Eventually the machine was loaded and I showed her how to put the conditioner and powder in and how to set the dials for the sort of wash she wanted. The machine was well loaded, and I said to her that I hoped her second load on Friday wouldn’t be so big.
"No," she said, "That will be smaller, as it will mostly be my smalls," as she put it.
She said that her seventeen year-old grand daughter was staying for a week or so, so could she include her things in the next wash? I said that that would be okay, as long as everything could be done at the same time at the same setting. She said that there would be no problem there as her grand daughter wore light and flimsy clothing and her denim skirt and jeans would last a week without a wash anyway. There were only a couple of blouses, skirts and underwear of hers anyway.
So the day continued, Mrs T did the cleaning and I allowed her to tumble dry the clothes before she went home, thanking me again for the use of the washer and drier and I even got another kiss, this one quickly on the lips, it was only brief, but I thought I sensed more in it than just an ordinary kiss.
Oh well, a disappointing day, not the thrills that I expected. I can’t get thrilled with ladies everyday wear, especially that of one's cleaning lady.
Thursday was much the same as Tuesday, a wank, a couple of pints and an early night. Nothing on the television except for Americans killing each other, or Brits solving crimes in a more gentle way.
Mrs T arrived a bit early this morning, she said that if it was okay she would start and finish a bit earlier and the washing wouldn’t take too long as it was all “Light” stuff. Would I help her load the machine again? Thinking about her grand daughter's underwear, I readily agreed.
"Now," she said, "I want you to pass me each item individually. I don’t want it to get tangled and stretched. Especially my grand daughter's clothes."
I agreed to assist, with a stirring in my loins that I hadn’t felt for a day or two. It was like a lucky dip. I put my hand in the bag, pulled out something, the first thing was a satin skirt, all tangled up with a pair of tights. I was told to untangle the silky materials, before passing them on to Mrs T, who placed them in the machine. Next to come out of the bag was a pair of cotton knickers, large and well worn, the elastic beginning to stretch and next out was a similar sized pair of French knickers, almost new, with lace at the legs hem and silky soft. My erection was beginning to get painful, so I kneeled on the floor to hide it and to ease the strain a bit.
"What on earth are you on your knees for?" Said Mrs T. "Do you find this hard work?"
"More than you think," I replied with a smile.
"It’s a long time since I’ve had a man kneel before me," she said, with a slight blush.
“When was that?” I asked
"Oh, years ago, before my husband died."
“At your betrothal? I asked.
“Oh no,” she said, “A long time after that, but that‘s another story!”
I continued sorting out the clothes, some were quite sexy, the suspender belts, one of Mrs T's no doubt, was pretty and feminine, bit bigger and sturdier than the other. Mrs T's was black, lace with satin at the tops of the straps, four straps on each side and three metal hooks & eyes at the back. The other, the grand daughter's, was a much flimsier looking affair. It was white with a little blue ribbon sewn into the frilly elastic waist and elastic straps trimmed with the same blue as the waist. It only had two straps on each side.
"Just right for a teenager," I thought.
Lots of goodies came out of the bag, there were several satin camisoles, a beautiful pale pink one, with matching knickers without lace. There was a bright red one, which could have passed as a nightie. There was also a long satin nightie, midnight blue, with cream lace around the bust and a matching pegnoir with lace collar and cuffs and a long satin belt went with it.
My imagination was running wild, so many sexy things, mostly satin or chiffon, there was a lovely chiffon skirt. It would fit me! Two layers of chiffon and a light silky lining, decorated with pastel flowers and leaves. It was floor-length and had an elastic waist. When I passed it to Mrs T it almost floated to her. It was like a wispy cobweb and quite beautiful. I would have to get hold of that somehow. I needed to wear it, to wank in it and especially to cum in it. I managed to slide the skirt to one side while the machine was being loaded, without Mrs T noticing. I kept her busy by explaining the settings on the washing machine for “Delicates/Cool Wash/Short wash/rinse plus and so on, then quickly started the machine.
Mrs T noticed the chiffon skirt and looked at me in a rather odd way.
"Too late to put it in now I’m afraid, the cycle has started and the machine is filling up with water. I’m doing our own wash tomorrow," I told her. "I have two washes to do, one “Heavy” and one “Delicate” I’ll pop that into our delicate wash. It’s very pretty isn’t I?”
"Yes," she said, "But it’s really too young for me and too big for my grand daughter. I rarely wear it, and I’m just washing it to freshen it up."
Mrs T did her cleaning, finished a bit early and went upstairs to change. She took the chiffon skirt up with her to put in the basket, then went into the bedroom to change, still with the skirt in her hand. I was waiting impatiently for Mrs T to get changed and go. I couldn’t wait to get that skirt on and rub myself in it. I could feel the floaty softness against my skin, against my buttocks and thighs, the material sliding up and down my prick. The option of rubbing my cock in one two or three layers of silky chiffon was a luxury I couldn’t wait for. The thought of the eventual orgasm into lovely the material was driving me to distraction and Mrs T was taking her time. Bloody woman! I thought.
Mrs T called from the bedroom, “Can you help please? My zip's stuck!”
I called out for her to hang on a minute, a chance to let my cock go down a bit, then I went up to her.
"I’m really sorry," she said. "My zip’s stuck and I think it needs a man to undo it."
It was an ordinary housecoat, blue with a white collar and a zip front, and pockets. Nothing to get excited about at all. I fumbled with the zip for a second, but it undid straight away.
"Thanks," said Mrs T. "I must get out of this thing and put my ordinary clothes on. Can you pass them to me?"
I picked up her blouse and skirt feeling the softness of them and seeing the chiffon skirt laid out neatly on the bed. My cock started to stir. Had I been set up? Was this a trap?
"Come over here," said Mrs T. "Do you like my underwear? Do you like black nylon and lace? Feel it!" She ordered. "Feel the softness of the nylon and the stiffness of the lace. Rub your hands over my stomach, does that feel nice?"
She took my hand, slid it under her slip and placed it on her panties.
"Do you like the feel of them?" She asked.
I gulped and muttered, "Yes, they feel lovely."
"Speak up!" She said, "I can’t hear you."
"YES! They feel lovely," I said again.
I had a feeling that I wasn’t in control here, Mrs T was in command.
"You like pretty things don’t you?" She said.
"Um yes I do."
"What about my chiffon skirt? Do you like that? Do you think it’s lovely?"
"Yes I do," I said, "It’s very pretty."
"I thought you liked it. I saw the way you tried to hide it down stairs. Did you want to try it on?"
"Yes, I did want to try it on. It’s so different to what I usually wear and I thought it might fit. I was just going to try it on..."
"Liar!! Liar!!" She screamed at me. "You wanted to have a wank in it didn’t you? You dirty toad!! I know, my late husband was just like you and I loved him all the more for it. I miss him and his little habits. For I enjoyed them as much as he did. Do you want to wank into that skirt now, or shall I leave?"
“No,” I found myself saying. "I really want to try that skirt on, It’s a shame all your other clothes are in the washing machine," I said.
"Your wife has plenty of other clothes that will go with the skirt. What about a cami set and a white blouse, stockings and suspenders as well of course. Would you like that?" She asked.
"Oh Yeah, that would be great, then when I’m dressed I can kneel in front of you and kiss your pussy, like you used to have done to you I suspect."
Slowly, Mrs T dressed me. First in a suspender belt and stockings, so sheer that I could hardly feel them on me. Then came the cami set, black with lace trim around the knickers and around the neck. Mrs T insisted on putting the knickers on me, lifting one foot then the other before gently pulling them up around my waist. She kissed my prick, then took it full in her mouth for a second, I could feel her tongue work along the shaft. Then she withdrew it and tucked it away inside the satin cami knickers.
She told me to bend over, which I did, expecting a quick examination of my posterior, only to receive a sharp smack on the buttocks.
"That’s for being a slut," she said. "But never mind, you’re a lovely slut! Now put the blouse on and then the skirt. Now," she said. "If you were alone, what would you do next?"
"I think I’d look at myself in the mirror and see what I looked like. Can I do that now?"
"Yes, go ahead and look, but go downstairs and look in the mirror in the hall. That way you’ll feel just how these clothes feel when you are moving around; how the skirt swirls and how the knickers move against your prick. Is your prick still hard by the way?" She asked.
“Yes,” I replied. "If I’m not careful, I’m going to cum in these lovely silky panties and I don’t want to do that."
"Go down stairs and look in the mirror. Don’t you dare cum though! Be careful on the stairs, Cumming on the stairs can be dangerous, besides I want to see you cum in that pretty skirt of mine."
I carefully went down stairs and was quite impressed with my looks in the mirror, if I didn’t look at my face that was. Then, in a state of great arousal, I climbed back up the stairs, very aware of the swishing of the skirt, the tightness of my satin-clad cock and the smooth coolness of the stockings, as the skirt brushed against them. Even the crisp white blouse against the camisole top felt wonderful and feminine.
Jeez! I’d never felt anything like this before. I’d been on the point of cumming for several minutes now and every part of my being was wrapped in a feeling of sensuous rapture.
I don’t want to be a woman, but this is the way to turn a man like me on. Pretty clothes and a woman in charge, who knows what she’s doing.
I finally made it back to the bedroom without any accidents and was told to kneel before Mrs T and “Lick me out” as she put it. Which I proceeded to do. Firstly through her panties, then I pulled the gusset to one side, licked her cunt deeply and tongued her clitoris, which sent shivers down her. Finally I pulled the panties down and then off, giving them a long deep sniff, before giving Mrs T the real tonguing that she wanted.
"No!!" She said, "I want to cum with you. I want to see you cum, dressed as you are. I want you to cum all over the skirt and then I want to lick your cum off of the skirt. I want to frig myself while you are cumming and while I’m eating it. I want my face covered in your cum. I want to taste it! I want to smell it! I want to feel it on me."
I was dragged to the bed. The panties were pulled down to my hips, the skirt was lifted and after a brief second of cold air, my cock was encased in her warm moist lips and her tongue was doing its magic trick. Suddenly her head moved away, my cock throbbing, the skin as tight a drum, the deep purple glans shining and throbbing. Then the skirt was draped over it and she began to stroke me, softly at first, then harder and faster.
Then she took her hand away and told me to, “Get on with it yourself!”
At last I had my throbbing cock encased in that skirt, the folds sliding on my thighs and over my balls.
I could feel my balls tightening, my stomach churning. I was on my back, knees up and wide apart, I could see my cock encased in the chiffon. I could feel the chiffon on my legs and balls. I was in heaven.
My legs started to twitch, like little electric shocks were running through them, my prick felt that it was about to explode. Mrs T kissed me deeply and ran a hand up and down my stocking clad leg.
“Cum when you’re ready, I am,” she whispered.
So I did. I gripped my prick tightly through the chiffon and I exploded, great wads of cum into the chiffon, then I pulled the chiffon off and let Mrs T watch me cum. I came on the skirt, and on the blouse. The thought of the blouse, neatly ironed and white made me come more. I came on my face, on the blouse, on the skirt and on the pillow under my head.
Finally I stopped cumming, but Mrs T was in a demented state. She was frigging herself. She put her face on my lap, sniffing, licking and sucking my cum off the skirt, then off my blouse and my face. She was frantic, like an animal and finally she jumped on the bed and crouching over me, lowered her cunt onto my chiffon clad knees where she finally frigged herself off panting and moaning. Finally she lay beside me and relaxed, with a sigh. Then she fell asleep in my arms, but not before finding a drop of cum on my neck and licking it off.
Mrs T woke with a start a while later, looked at her watch and said she had to go, as opposed to cum! So after a quick shower and a kiss for me, she left saying she would see me on Monday.
Almost a week had passed since Sal had gone so she could be home any time soon. I hoped she would phone first, just to give me a bit of warning. I could then make sure that everything was in order for when she arrived.
There was a bit of washing to do, mostly mine and a nylon slip of Sal’s, so I chucked it all in the washing machine and turned it on. I’d done a big wash, including the chiffon skirt yesterday and remembered that it would need pressing, before returning it to Mrs T. I find that pressing pretty clothes after a wash a real turn on, they always look so much nicer after pressing, but it leaves the temptation open of wearing some of the clothes again, still warm from the iron. Something I would have to resist doing until I found out what Sally was up to. If she was going to be home in a day or two, I would have to save myself for her, but if it was going to be longer then I would have time for a few more games on my own.
I gave the house a quick clean, made sure all the washing up was done and so on. Sal’ could turn up at any time unannounced. Especially if she were just passing through, while still on her job. She could just drop in, have a quick bath, a change of wardrobe and a meal, then be on her way again, within two or three hours.
Sally phoned! She was in a rush, would be home in a couple of hours and would stay overnight here, before visiting a shop locally tomorrow morning, Monday. Then she had to go up North for three or four days to sign up a couple of new customers and take their orders. She said that she would see me soon and blew me a kiss.
Sally arrived, looking tired and worn. She really needed a proper break and even a bit of a holiday. We’d talk about that when she came home for a few days.
I fixed Sal’ a martini, sat her down, took her shoes off and gave her the drink. Then went upstairs to run the bath for her, put a fluffy bath towel on the heated towel rail and laid a nightie out in the bed for her.
"God, I’m tired," she said. "I need a real rest. I’m fed up with sleeping in hotels and motels. I want to sleep in my own bed, with you every night” she said.
I thought about mentioning the holiday, but decided against it. I would bring that subject up when she was home for a few days, when perhaps we could actually make some plans. I just agreed with her and said that a break would be good.
Sal’ finished the martini and went upstairs, unbuttoning her clothes as she went. She climbed the stairs slowly, tired out and depressed. I gave her five minutes, time to get into the bath then went up to her.
“Want another drink?” I asked.
“Oh yes please. Just one more before I finish the bath and go to bed”
I brought up the drink and quietly sat on the stool beside the bath, just watching her quietly, as she lay there relaxing, eyes closed with the drink in her hand.
“Want your back scrubbed?” I asked.
“Mmmmmm” she replied.
So I gently scrubbed her back, massaged her shoulders and neck, then soaped her breasts. When this was done I gently kissed her and quietly left the room.
An hour later Sally came down, sparkling, a smile on her face and looking refreshed.
“I’m starving” she said. "What’s in the fridge? Anything will do, I’m not going out to eat, I don’t have the time, or the inclination.”
“Not much,” I said. "Eggs, mushrooms, bread, butter, cheese, the usual things. Smoked salmon as well of course."
“Boiled eggs, buttered toast and a pot of tea will do nicely," she said. "Nothing too heavy or fatty and some ice cream afterwards, if we have some.”
"Not a conventional meal,” I said lightly.
“No,” she laughed, “But quick and easy and I‘m fed up with hotel and motel food. Whatever is on the menu, it’s always hotel or motel food.”
She ate, making soldiers to dip into the eggs. Another round of toast for her, as she finished the tea and one for myself, just to keep her company.
“Ice cream?” I asked.
“Ooooh yes please!”
She ate the ice cream slowly, looking over the spoon at me.
“Look” she said, I’m really really tired, I have to be up early in the morning. Do you mind if we don’t…”
“No, that’s all right, Sal’. I understand. Do you want me to sleep in the spare bedroom?”
“Oh no!” she replied, "I want you near me, it’s just that I’m very tired."
"You go up to bed, I’ll be up soon," I said to her.
I went up ten minutes later. Sal looked lovely, she was fast asleep, her hair over her face, curled up asleep like a baby...
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