I couldn’t stand it anymore. I looked around my house and had to come to the inevitable conclusion. This place is filthy! The trouble was that my attitude to housework was the same as my attitude to skydiving. I don’t mind watching someone else do it but I wouldn’t do it myself. Then I had an idea.

My elderly neighbours use a local cleaning firm, twice a week, as they do not have the energy to do the housework. I decided to find out more and, one hour later (as they always love to turn a brief visit into an excuse for tea and biscuits and a chat), I had the phone in my hand and was chatting with the secretary of Domestic Angels. I explained my situation and they made an appointment to come round and judge the extent of the job.

Well, to cut a long story short, two ladies came around with clipboards. They were not exactly the most attractive women I had ever met but they were here to clean my house. The woman in charge was quite short, mid 50’s, with black hair. The hair was tied back and held in place with a large hair grip. She also had a facial hair issue; a visible ‘moustache of black hairs that her make-up struggled to hide. Her associate was also short and slightly overweight, accentuated by a pair of jeans that had once fitted perfectly, but now struggled to conceal her ‘curves’. They looked around every room in the house, and cast their expert eyes over what would be required to make my house fit for human habitation. After a brief discussion about cost and the time it would take, they booked me in for the following Tuesday. “Sam will be here at 9 o’clock with another lady,” said the lady with the moustache. Her associate, who I worked out was Sam, smiled and said,“Make sure you are ready for us. We like to start work on time.” With that they left me feeling relieved that I would soon be the proud owner of a clean house.

Tuesday came and, just as Sam had promised, they arrived at 9 o’clock carrying all manner of devices, gadgets, sprays and liquids. The lady with Sam was taller and slimmer. Her face reflected the years of hard work that she had put in. It was that tired but determined look that people have when they accept that their life will always be one of hardship and toil. After a brief ‘team talk’ about which rooms to begin in and what to do first, Sam disappeared upstairs with a vacuum cleaner and her partner started to dust the lounge where I was sitting, reading a book and listening to the radio. I tried to concentrate on my book but I was mesmerized by the lady cleaning my lounge. She was methodically moving around the room, spraying and dusting, not stopping for a second. She was wearing the Domestic Angel’s uniform; black baggy jeans and a pink polo shirt with the logo on the breast pocket. It was not a good look but then I suppose it was designed for comfort and ease of movement. It was fun to watch someone else doing the work but then, as she turned to plug in the vacuum cleaner, she noticed that I watching her. I felt like a naughty child who had been caught out doing something he really shouldn’t and I glowed with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry,” I muttered. “I didn’t mean to look.”

“Oh yes you did.” She replied, smiling. “It’s all right. I don’t mind you watching me.”

“I was only watching you work,” I stammered. “I thought I might pick up some cleaning tips so that I keep it looking nice.”

“Don’t give me that crap,” she laughed. “It must be every man’s dream to sit and watch a woman doing all the work.”

I laughed too. She was right. I hated housework and it was kind of satisfying to watch someone else doing it. “How long have you been doing this cleaning job?” I asked.

“About six years now,” she replied.

“And do you enjoy it?”

“Well I’ve always cleaned, so it’s no hardship, but I enjoy some parts of it.”

I was intrigued. What did she enjoy about housework? I couldn’t begin to imagine so I asked her what gave her job satisfaction.

“I like to be watched. It makes me feel... excited. We do a lot of jobs while the clients are out but I like it when they are at home, watching me clean. Do you like watching me?”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I decided to play it safe. “I enjoy watching you work.”

She grinned. “That’s good.

Keep watching.” So I did.

She looked up to the ceiling and listened, as if she was checking that her partner was busy upstairs. Then, with her back to me, unfastened her jeans and pulled them to the floor, revealing the triangle of a thong that was tightly wedged between the cheeks of her large round bottom. Stepping out of them, she neatly folded her jeans and placed them on a chair. Then she stripped off her polo shirt and turned around, revealing an inviting cleavage, held in place by a large sports bra. Her eyes stared into mine as she eased the straps of the bra off of her shoulders, pulled her breasts free, and unhitched the bra. Her breasts were the kind that you would want to put your cock between. Large and voluptuous. The stiffening in my pants confirmed this.

She broke the eye contact and continued work. But now I was watching with new eyes. Every movement of her body, as she did the menial, routine job of cleaning house, was making me aroused. The noise of the vacuum cleaner, as she pushed it back and forth around the room, had a kind of rhythm. Her body was in tune to the rhythm, her buttocks moving back and forth, her pendulous breasts, moving back and forth. It couldn’t resist it any longer. My hand slipped into my pants and I began to move my hand up and down my shaft, synchronising myself with her.

And then she began to vacuum around the sofa where I was sitting. Her breasts swayed in front of me and I couldn’t hold back any longer. I moved my head forward to suck them. At that moment I felt a sharp pain on the side of my face as she slapped me. Not hard but enough to make me sit back in the sofa. “Not yet! I haven’t finished my work. Be patient.” I did as I was told. I was rewarded for my obedience.

She sat opposite me, on a wicker dining chair. She held the nozzle of the vacuum cleaner and moved it away from the floor and over her left breast. The suction pulled her nipple into the nozzle and the vacuum cleaner whined as if with pleasure. Her face contorted into a grimace, and then a smile. She pulled the nozzle away from until, finally, it released her breast and it bounced back against her body. There was a red circle around the nipple where the nozzle had been attached. She was giving me the most erotic show I had ever seen. I began masturbating harder.

She then turned her attentions to her right breast. This time she skirted the nozzle around her breast, the suction contorting it as she licked her lips in pleasure. Then, without warning her free hand pulled her thong roughly to one side, revealing her bulging, hairy pussy, wet with excitement. She teased the lips of her pussy first, closing her eyes and rolling her head back between her shoulder blades. Then she eased the stiff plastic into her pussy and began to masturbate, slowly at first, and then wildly. The vacuum cleaner made noises that I had never heard before. If there was ever a parallel universe where electronic gadgets had the ability to have sex, this would be the noise they would make when they orgasm.

As for her, she was obviously close to that point too. Her masturbation had become erratic and she was finding it harder to focus on moving the nozzle in and out, her hand trembling with the orgasm that was building up, until, with a groan that rose gradually in pitch until it became a scream, she jammed the nozzle in and shook violently, almost falling of the chair. Her head fell forward with exhaustion as she switched off the cleaner with her foot and gingerly removed the nozzle.

She looked up at me and smiled broadly. “And now let’s see what we can do for you.” I couldn’t wait. I grabbed my cock and released it from my pants. But before she could get close to me she stopped, like a frightened rabbit. A voice came from upstairs “I’m finished up here, shall we break for lunch?” We stared at each other and then, in a well rehearsed act, she adjust her thong, put her gorgeous breasts away and was standing there, fully-clothed, as Sam walked in. “Yes, that’s a good idea. I think our client needs a break too.” She replied, grinning at me and looking between my legs. My cock! It was still hanging out of my pants, stiff and damp. Luckily I managed to jam it uncomfortably back where it came from without Sam seeing it.

As they left to grab some lunch, she walked over to me, bent over and whispered in my ear. “I’ll leave the vacuum cleaner here. I have the feeling that you might put it to good use while I’m away.”