Pete – 1

Pete – 1

            ‘Mum’s had another bleed!’

            Noooo!

            It felt like déjà vu when, expecting the worst, I found myself asking, ‘How bad is it? What happened?’

            ‘I went round to Mum and Dad’s yesterday for a couple of days,’ said Jamie. ‘I thought I could do some work at theirs and give Dad a hand and maybe take the pressure off a bit.’

            ‘That was good of you.’

            ‘I didn’t have to be anywhere so I thought I’d take the opportunity to help them out,’ he continued. ‘Dad is struggling, more than he wants to admit. Anyway, Mum was great when I got there, really great in fact. She was funny and giggly and we had a good laugh. I made them dinner and tried to do a bit of cleaning, but Dad wasn’t having any of it.’

            It still drove me nuts that he kept calling Alex, ‘Dad’ but I bit my tongue and decided not to pick him up on it. ‘He’s a proud man. He’s not used to needing help. All of this must be playing havoc with his sense of dignity,’ I said.

            ‘Exactly!’ Said Jamie. ‘He went for a walk to the shops at one point and I sneaked out of the room and gave the kitchen a quick vacuum.’

            I gave a nervous laugh. But what about Mum! I took the fact that he wasn’t rushing to the point as a good sign…but still.

            ‘You don’t have to worry, I’m still planning to come through at the weekend to clean their house. So what happened to Mum?’

            ‘As I said, she was great yesterday, but today she was different again.’

            ‘In what way?’

            ‘She was really struggling to walk, and when she talked she was slurring her words. She was so confused about everything. Also I thought it looked like her mouth had drooped on the right side.’

            That caught my attention. Her stroke last week had affected the left hand side of her body and made the left side of her mouth droop a little. When I saw her a couple of days after, that had improved to the point of being imperceptible. But if the right side was now affected that meant she might have had another stroke on the other side of her brain. ‘Oh fuck, no!’

            ‘I know,’ said Jamie. ‘We thought we’d better get the doctor out and she came round about three o’clock. She admitted Mum to hospital straight away. We’re there now but it looks like we’ll be going through to York again.’

            ‘Okay. I’ll get ready.’

            Mum had been taken in an ambulance. Before they set off Alex and Jamie had made mum a sandwich and prepared a bag with some overnight things she’d need. I met Alex and Jamie in the car park at York Hospital. I saw Jamie’s car in the disabled area at the front of the hospital and I parked alongside. At that time of night it was almost empty save for a few other vehicles dotted about. Alex had put his blue disabled badge in the front of Jamie’s car. We all walked in together and as we made our way to the Acute Stroke unit, ward thirty six on the third floor, Jamie went over what had happened again, this time adding little details he’d missed when we’d talked on the phone. Nevertheless I still wasn’t prepared for seeing mum the way she was.

            As we walked onto the ward we saw a nurse we’d seen the week before. Alex saw her first. ‘We’re here again,’ he said. I could hear in his tone of voice that he was trying to make light of the situation, probably trying to pacify his own worries.

            The nurse, a comely lady with a warm disposition and a cheeky smile said, ‘She’s just through there.’ She pointed to the same ward we’d been in the week before. ‘It’s the first bed on the left this time.’

            As I walked in I saw Mum sat, fully clothed, in the chair by the bed, her head was slumped over- it looked like she was asleep. Why isn’t she in bed?

            ‘Hello love,’ said Alex, his tone warm and gentle. She lifted her head looking at Alex through a haze of confusion.

            ‘Oh, it’s you Alex,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing here.’

            Alex rubbed her arm. ‘It’s ok love,’ he said. ‘You’re in hospital in York.’

            ‘But what am I doing here?’

            ‘You’ve had another bleed, remember? We took you to Scarborough Hospital and they sent you through here.’

            ‘But I’m supposed to be over there.’ Mum gestured to the bed she was in the week before.

            ‘That was last week love,’ said Alex. He held her hand reassuringly. As much as I have an issue with Alex not being my dad, I have to admit, he is good with our Mum. At that point Mum looked round and saw Jamie and me.

            ‘Oh! You’re here too.’

            Jamie and I chorused responses. Mum held out her arms to me and blinking back tears I squatted in front of the chair and leaned into her embrace. As I held her I found myself thinking about how things had changed. Gone were the days when Mum’s hugs were meant to reassure me. The roles were reversed and it was she seeking reassurance. I fought back sobs and tears as the realisation that I was slowly losing my Mum hit me. My throat tightened as the tears flowed down my cheeks and onto her shoulder. Her arms loosened to let me go and I squeezed her a little tighter, not letting go. I can’t let her see I’m upset. She held me tighter again. Come on Carla, control it! It seemed to take ages but Mum didn’t let go. When I felt I had a good enough hold of myself I let go a little and rested my face on her shoulder; a ploy to dab my damp cheeks. She let me go, and reached out for Jamie.

            ‘Are you alright love?’ Asked Alex looking over at me, his eyes warm and sympathetic.

            I nodded, pausing before responding so I could get a grip on the lump in my throat.

            ‘No, not really,’ I said quietly, my nodding head changing to a shake.

            Alex put a hand on my shoulder and gave me a squeeze. ‘I know,’ he whispered. ‘Me neither.’

            I looked round at him. He really is a good man.

 

 

I’m sorry, but I can’t write any more about this. It’s just too painful and I can’t stop crying while I’m writing. That’s why this post has taken longer to complete.

 

This all happened exactly a week after the first stroke and it seems to have had a greater impact. Whilst she has got physically stronger and is able to move about easier and climb the stairs to go to the loo., she’s experiencing long periods of dizziness and nausea. Thankfully they’re getting a bit more help now and being needs assessed. Hopefully this will take the pressure off Mum and also Alex. Jamie and I have also been helping as much as possible.

 

As you might have gathered, this has affected me deeply and my libido is pretty much non-existent at the moment. When I next saw Steve, once again he was great with me, making time to sit me down and listen to me express my concerns and worries. Thankfully my other customers have been kind and understanding too. But on Wednesday’s I see Pete, and I haven’t told you about Pete yet….

 

*

            ‘I’d like a coffee please, strong, white with one sugar. I’ll be in your lounge.’ I said.

            ‘As you wish,’ said Pete.

            Pete is average height and a heavy set bloke with a more than healthy covering of middle aged spread. He’s the type of bloke that looks like he was quite a catch in his younger days with the type of rugged features you find on Russell Crowe or Gerard Butler, who incidentally I often confuse with each other. He has blue eyes and his hair is dark with silver grey strands running through it. He’s also a bit of a computer geek with a job at some large insurance firm sorting out their technical issues. I think he also spends a lot of his spare time playing computer games, judging by the set up in his box room. He got this flat on a new build, social housing scheme after he and his girlfriend separated. He’s talked a lot about her and shown me photographs; she was pretty. She works for herself and he said he found her controlling, which he liked, but she didn’t like it that he let her control him. So they went there separate ways and that’s why Pete employs me.

I don’t clean Pete’s flat – he does all the cleaning.

I just tell him what to do.

You might think for a domestic cleaner that this would be the ideal job to have, and to be honest, so did I before I started. But. But, there’s something inside me still feels wrong, like I’m cheating him somehow. I go to his flat, boss him about telling him what to do, and he pays me for the privilege of sitting on my backside for two hours drinking coffees that he serves me whenever I ask. Mind you, in order to feel better about it, I have on occasion added what I feel is value to our arrangement by stripping off and sitting there in just my lingerie. And I’ve made him do other things too, but not today. Today I’m still too preoccupied with recent events with my Mum.

‘Where’s that damn coffee?’

‘It’s coming,’ he calls from the kitchen. I hear the kettle click itself off the boil and the teaspoon in the mug as he stirs the drink. The kitchen door opens and Pete enters carrying a steaming mug.

‘There you go,’ he says, placing the mug on a coaster on the coffee table in front of me. ‘Okay, what shall I do first?’

‘The kitchen of course. It’s always the kitchen.’

‘Of course,’ he says. ‘I’ve never thought to ask, but why do I always do the kitchen first? Why not the bathroom?’

I’m feeling a bit snappy. ‘Are you stupid or something? If you do the bathroom first, then you clean the kitchen, you risk carrying germs and bacteria on your hands from the bathroom to the kitchen. Is that what you want?’

‘No. No, of course not. I just hadn’t thought about that.’

‘I thought you were supposed to be intelligent. It’s just common sense.’

He looks subdued. ‘I’ll go and make a start.’

‘Wait,’ I say. ‘You can do the bathroom first today and, after you’ve finished, we’ll make sure you’re clean enough to do the kitchen.’

His eyebrows lift, his face a mixture of surprise and doubt.

‘Well,’ I say. ‘What are you waiting for?’

‘Okay, okay,’ he says. ‘I’ll start in the bathroom,’ and with that he walks through the other door leaving me with my coffee.

I pick up the cup and subconsciously blow on it to cool the surface liquid before taking a sip. He does make good coffee. I find myself wondering if I was too harsh on him. But he likes to be controlled, I reason. That’s why he employs me. I’ll show him how to get himself clean enough to move onto the kitchen.

I gaze round the lounge while I take little sips of the hot drink. Directly opposite where I’m sitting there’s a one of those large, flat screen TVs- the kind of TV that’s really far too big for the size of the lounge. It’s obvious he spends a lot of time watching it. In fact, aside from the coffee table and a large shelf unit containing Doctor Who memorabilia and a selection of DVDs and box sets, that’s pretty much all there is to the lounge.

I wonder how Mum’s doing. I wonder how Alex is coping.

As this thought flashes across my mind my heart starts fluttering.

Ok Carla, stop it!

That’s why I like my work.  I find the activity distracting. I can’t be doing with sitting here waiting.

With that I plonk my cup on the table. Coffee splashes over the side but I don’t care. Before I realise it I’m on my feet making my way through the door towards the bathroom. This flat is weird – there’s far too much corridor space for the size of the flat. I wouldn’t want to live here. I push the bathroom door open to find Pete cleaning the shower screen that runs down the side of the bath. He’s using a magic sponge like I’d shown him to get rid of the limescale water marks. He looks round at me as I enter.

‘Come to check up on me?’ he asks.

Being at Pete’s takes me back to when I used to manage cleaners. It feels like my old work habits are coming out. ‘I thought I’d better make sure you’re doing it right. What have you done so far?’

‘I’ve sprayed everything with the pink stuff,’ he says. ‘Now I’m just cleaning the screen with the magic sponge.’

I like to use my own cleaning products and I take a caddy of supplies with me wherever I go. However at Pete’s I didn’t see the point, so I leave a selection at his place of everything I know works well. I replace them as required.

‘These things are brilliant,’ he says.

‘Yes they are,’ I say. ‘Did you use a drop of the limescale cleaner like I showed you?’

‘Yup,’ he says holding the magic sponge towards me so I can see the blue cleaner absorbed in the middle of the sponge.

‘Good. Well don’t let me stop you.’ I lean on the wall, my arms folded.

Pete carries on working, moving the sponge systematically over the screen to cover the whole area. When he’s finished he takes a squeegee blade and blades the surface liquid down towards the bath.

‘How was the coffee?’ he asks.

‘Fine.’ I say, watching as he moves on to cleaning the bath. ‘Make sure those taps gleam.’

‘Will do.’

Everything in the flat still has that air of newness. The building was only completed about eighteen months ago and because he’s cleaned it how I would clean it, his place still looks pretty pristine.

‘You’ve never watched me do this before,’ he says. ‘Is there something wrong?’ He’s finished the bath and moved onto the toilet. He lifts the seat and lid and is about to start wiping the rim.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ I ask.

‘Cleaning the toilet…’ he says looking confused.

‘Starting with the rim? Is that how you always do it? Did I ever tell you to do it that way?’

‘You’ve never told me what order to do it in. I do it this way so that when I finish with the lid I close it and I know it’s done.’

‘You idiot,’ I say. ‘So you’re taking all the germs in your cloth from the rim that you’ve probably dribbled and pissed all over, then you’re  going to spread them on the seat, then the lid, then probably the cistern and flusher button, right?’

‘Erm… I hadn’t thought about that,’ he says putting the seat and lid down. He starts cleaning the cistern.

‘I thought you were supposed to be intelligent,’ I say. I’m aware that I’m being harsh with him, condescending even, and much more so than normal. Normally I just direct him to whatever areas need cleaning and leave him to get on with it but I’m feeling so, restless, today. I’m not in a good mood. ‘Clean to dirty Pete. That’s the principle, clean to dirty. Work from the hygienically cleaner area to the dirtier one. That’s why you do the sink last, so you can rinse and disinfect the cloth before you clean the sink. It’s common sense.’

I watch as he finishes cleaning the toilet by flushing it, squirts Harpic around and under the rim and brushes the inside clean. Then he moves to the sink, cleans and disinfects the cloth and cleans the sink.

‘Right. Now you’ve done we need to make sure your filthy hands are clean. Pour some bleach in the sink.’

He looks at me sideways. ‘What?’

‘Are you deaf now as well as stupid! I said pour some bleach in the sink.’

Pete puts the plug in and squirts some bleach into the sink.

‘Run some hot water,’ I say.

He turns the hot tap on and when the sink is half full I tell him to stop. ‘Right, now get your hands in there and get them washed.’

He’s about to plunge his hands into the water when suddenly I come to my senses and realise what I’m doing.

‘Stop, Pete. Stop!’

His hands are just millimetres away from being plunged into hot bleach solution.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say quickly leaving the bathroom and heading back to the lounge.

When Pete walks in he finds me sat on the sofa, sobbing into my hands.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I say, looking up through tear sodden eyes. ‘I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.’

‘What’s wrong?’ He asks, sitting in the lounge chair to my side.

I blubber and blurt out the events the last fortnight, telling what had happened with my Mum.

‘Wow,’ says Pete. ‘That’s a lot to deal with. I’d be thrown too if anything happened to my Mum.’

I nod, my head down – I feel so bad and I’m struggling to look at him. ‘When I got here today I was so angry. It’s all so unfair. She doesn’t deserve all this.’

‘No,’ he says. ‘You’re right. No one does. Well, except maybe paedophiles and rapists.’

I look up at him and he’s smiling, trying to make light of the situation. I let out a sobby chuckle.

‘Let me make you another drink. There’s some tissues over there,’ he says getting up and pointing to the shelf unit.

While Pete makes a drink in the kitchen I grab the tissues and get myself composed. I feel so bad. I was so awful to him. I’m not sure how I’m going to come back from this. I’m so preoccupied thinking about what to do next when Pete walks in carrying a fresh mug of coffee.

    ‘Thank you Pete. Are you not having one?’ I ask, taking the mug from him.

‘I’ve got work to do,’ he says with a grin.

‘Oh!’ I feel somewhat at a loss for what to say next. I expected him to join me and talk through what happened.

‘Unless you want to talk?’ He says as though suddenly reaslising he’s committed some kind of faux pas.

‘No, no it’s fine,’ I say. ‘Why don’t you do the kitchen.’

‘Right-oh,’ he says and heads back the way he came.

 

For the next hour and a half, in between giving Pete instructions and answering questions like, what shall I do with this…,  and, how should I clean that?, I sit, unmoving, contemplating my behaviour. I lost control. Going forward, I must try and be professional and not let my private life affect how I deal with my customers. They are after all, my ‘bread & butter’ income. I’m so distracted I hadn’t even noticed Pete come into the lounge and clean round. I’d even lifted my feet up so he could vacuum round the sofa.

As my time with Pete comes to an end I hear his voice.

‘All done.’

‘Oh, okay.’

‘Do you want to check my work?’

‘Yes,’ I say, coming to mys senses and feeling more myself. ‘Let’s see how you’ve done.’

Even though Pete likes to do all the work himself I still feel it’s important to check he’s done it to a good standard, a standard that I would have achieved had I done the work myself.

‘Let’s start in the kitchen,’ I say.

He leads the way and in the kitchen he points out everything he’s done.

‘I used the degreaser on the hob like you told me,’ he says. ‘And I buffed up the glasswork afterwards.’

It looks great, not a streak in sight. The kitchen looks like it hasn’t been lived at all, apart from minute wear and tear scratches on work surfaces, the hob and the sink. He’s even got all the limsescale water marks off the sink. I couldn’t have done a better job had I done it myself.

Leaving the kitchen we head through the lounge and into the hallway.

‘We don’t need to check in there,’ I say as we pass the bathroom. ‘I know you’ve done a great job in there.’

He gives me a rueful grin. ‘Thanks.’

We check out the rest of his flat and I can’t find any fault. I’m putting my jacket on when Pete comes up holding out his hand with the money in.

‘Here you go,’ he says.

‘I don’t feel comfortable taking that off you today,’ I say.

‘Why?’ He asks, his face a picture of genuine doubt.

‘Because…’

He doesn’t give me chance to finish. ‘Look Carla, we all have bad days.’ He thrusts the money at me and I reach out, take it, and stuff it in my trouser pocket.

‘Thanks Pete,’ I say. ‘I promise, I won’t do that to you again.’ Despite the fact that I find our arrangement a little odd, he really is a good bloke behind his quirks.

‘Hey,’ he says. ‘I actually liked it.’

‘What? You liked it that I lost the plot and nearly made you injure yourself.’

‘Yes. Maybe we could try something a little…’ He struggles to find the words. ‘A little… I dunno… kinker, next time.’

 

*

As I explained in post about Oliver, I’m not greatly experienced in Dom and Sub roles, so Pete’s response surprised me a little. It’s going to be interesting to see how things develop with Pete!

If you like you can follow my daily activities on Twitter.

Until next time 🙂

xoxo

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Steve – 1

Steve – 1

‘Mum’s had a stroke!’

Those are not words you want to hear when you answer a phone.

‘How bad is it?’ I asked, my heart starting to race.

‘It’s not life threatening,’ said my brother, Jamie.

It might not be life threatening, but it’s going to be life changing.

‘Dad’s been trying to get hold of you. Did you get his message?’

HE’S NOT OUR DAD! The voice is loud in my head, but this isn’t the time for one of our debates about calling Alex ‘Dad.’ There’s no denying he’s been good for our Mum, especially since our real Dad fucked off with her best friend. But he’s not our Dad.

‘No, I didn’t hear the phone,’ I lied. Of course I heard the phone; it had been ringing and vibrating away on the kitchen table while I was grabbing a bite to eat. I was getting ready to go out and I didn’t have time for what I thought would be an inevitable half hour conversation about days out in the country, meetings with other members of the family, the weather, and finally whatever was going on in my own life. ‘What happened?’ I asked, somewhat pointlessly. She’s had a stroke, that’s what happened. ‘I was getting ready to go out. How bad is it?’

‘He says it’s not life threatening but…’

Oh shit, here it comes.

‘But she has lost some control in her left leg and arm.’

Shit. As if she hasn’t got enough problems.

‘And is she…’ I struggled to find the words; words that wouldn’t be painful to say. ‘Is she… still Mum?’

‘Yes. Dad says she’s in good spirits. She’s a bit  confused, but she’s okay.’

‘I’d better give Alex a ring,’ I said.

‘Yes, especially considering they’re moving her tonight.’

‘Moving her?’

‘She’s in Brid hospital now, but they’re moving her to the specialist unit in York.’

‘Tonight?’ I’m a bit confused. It’s gone six thirty pm now. Why would they move an old lady in the middle of the night?

‘Apparently there’s a special stroke unit in York, and Dad says she has had a small bleed.’

‘Oh shit!’ A small bleed. It seemed kind of obvious to me that there’d been bleeding in her brain because that was caused strokes. Then I remembered they can also be caused by clots. My experience with our grandmother years before started to come back to me. She’d had a massive initial stroke which at the onset had pretty much incapacitated her. She got so much of her original self back, but she was never quite the same. Grandad became her carer and looking after her eventually wiped him out. Well, when I say it wiped him out, he actually died of cancer. He’d been riddled with it. But I’ve always thought that he stopped looking after himself once he started looking after her, and that made his own situation worse.

‘Okay. Okay,’ I said, my mind was racing.  ‘I’ll drive through to York and meet them there. Do you know what time they’re moving her?’

‘No, and neither does Dad.’

‘I’ll ring him and find out,’ I said, deciding not to emphasise his name is Alex.

That happened a couple of weeks ago and I’m pleased to say Mum has improved a bit since then. Her left arm is still ‘tingly’ and her left leg is still weak. Considering she’s not exactly light on her feet anymore it’s made Alex pretty much her full-time carer. It’s like Grandma and Grandad all over again. Although Alex isn’t my Dad, I do like him, and I love it that he’s been good for Mum. Nevertheless, it’s a lot to take on though, caring for someone, especially someone who is now not good on their feet and is really too heavy for their own good.

Boom! Major life change.

You just never know when something like that is going to happen.

It’s things like this that make me squeeze as much fun out of life as I can.

*

            ‘Are you okay Carla?’ Steve asks. ‘Only you don’t seem your normal self today.’

‘I’m fine,’ I say, wondering how many times I’ve recently said I’m fine, when really I’m not.

I’m in the middle of dusting Steve’s martial arts figurines, and he’s got a lot of them. I normally put them back in pairs facing each other as though they’re locked in combat. Steve’s question makes me realise I’m just putting them back on the shelf willy nilly. This is probably what told Steve I’m not my ‘normal self.’

Come on Carla, snap out of it. She’s back home and she’s okay.

I know that I’m just trying to placate myself, trying to distract myself from the reality that my mum is not okay, and things will never be the same again. There is only one direction things can move in from this point, and it doesn’t end in a good place.

‘What’s on your mind?’ he asks.

I start repositioning the figurines as though they’re fighting each other but my heart isn’t in it. Whilst I’ve never achieved Steve’s level of martial arts prowess, I have done a bit of karate and kickboxing so I normally position his figurines in appropriate attacking and blocking configurations, but today that’s not happening.

‘The kettle’s on. Do you fancy a cuppa?’ says Steve.

‘No, thank you, I’m fine.’

There it is again. I’m fine.

Steve disappears into the kitchen and I hear him putting the kettle on and the clinking together of a couple of mugs. By the time he re-enters the lounge I’ve abandoned the figurines and I’m dusting the black glass TV stand.

I really hate black glass TV stands!

No sooner than you’ve removed all the dust, you can visibly see it settling again, even if you damp wipe it and buff it up.

‘Why the hell don’t they make these things anti-static?’ I complain.

‘I know. They’re crap aren’t they! Why do you think I have you come round? I can’t stand cleaning the damn thing.’

He’s grinning at me. Not goofily, more kindly. ‘Come and sit down,’ he says handing me a mug of steaming coffee. ‘Milk, no sugar, right?’

I nod. ‘Thanks,’ I say tucking my cloths into my trouser pocket. I take the mug, following his lead to the leather sofa and I plop myself down.

‘So what’s wrong?’

I can feel him looking at me.

I stare into the steaming cup in my hands on my lap. Then before I can stop myself I blurt out ‘It’s my mum, she’s had a stroke…’ Tears start streaming from my eyes, running down my nose and dripping into my coffee. Then from deep within me the sobbing starts. I realise I’ve been holding this in, trying to be strong, but now it’s like a wild animal released from a cage and it’s uncontrollable. My whole body starts shaking and my coffee is in danger of becoming a wet stain on my trousers and scalding my legs. Steve gently reaches forward and takes the mug from me, placing it to one side with his own.

‘I’m… sorry,’ I sob. ‘I’m so sorry. You don’t need this.’

‘But you clearly do,’ he says gently.

I’m holding my head in my hands as I break down in front of him. My whole body shakes and shudders, and between my sobs I tell him in broken pieces the events of the last few days. I tell him about my mum, what she means to me, and why it breaks my heart seeing her so confused and frail and broken. He lets me go on until I’m pretty much talked and cried out.

‘Have you not had anyone to talk to about this?’ he asks. I hadn’t noticed, but while I was yammering at him he’d moved closer and his arm was round my shoulders. It feels good and I lean into him a little.

‘No, well not in person anyway,’ I say. ‘Beth is away with work. We’ve talked on the phone, but it’s not the same.’ I grab a cloth from my pocket and wipe my eyes. ‘I’m so sorry Steve. You really don’t need me blubbering and blabbering at you.’

‘It’s okay.’

‘But it’s not is it! I’m supposed to be working, not drinking coffee and bothering you with my personal problems.’

‘Hey,’ he says gently. ‘We’re human beings before we’re anything else.’

I look up at him through teary eyes, my face coloured with confusion.

‘Wh.. what?’

‘We’re only human Carla, and we’re human before we become cleaners or electricians, or martial artists, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.’

I nod. ‘Yeah. But thanks anyway.’

His tenderness surprises me. I always had him pegged as a rock hard martial artist and not someone so gentle, sensitive, and sincere.

‘How are you feeling now?’

‘Still crap! But a bit better thanks.’ The shaking and sobbing has stopped, thankfully, and all I can feel now is the warmth of his body against mine. It feels lovely and I start to get that low down tingle of arousal. I lean a little further into him, taking comfort in his arms and enjoying the feeling of his body. I drop my hands into my lap and rest one on his thigh. Even sitting down and relaxed I can feel his leg muscles are firm to the touch. I lift my head back and look into his eyes which feel red and swollen. His pale grey eyes, tinged with kindness, look back at me. I must look a real sight!

‘I bet I look dreadful,’ I say.

‘Well,’ he says with a hint of cheek. ‘In all honesty, I’ve seen you looking better.’

We both chuckle, his caring expression quick to return. I’ve never really noticed just how handsome Steve is. Don’t get me wrong, I find him attractive, but mostly because underneath his clothes it’s clear he has a cracking body. His shirts are always a little on the tight side. I guess he falls somewhere between a medium and a large with a large being too baggy and a medium a little too tight, but the better option for making him look good. Steve has a pale complexion that looks like he’s never been a fan of the sun- he probably burns like a ginger. His mousy blonde hair is cut short, very short in fact, almost a crew cut but it’s slightly longer on top giving the impression it was cut by someone who knows what they’re doing. I’ve often thought his short hair makes him look a little intimidating, and being a martial artist maybe he likes it that way. But today he doesn’t look intimidating at all. Quite the opposite. My low down tingle intensifies, making my thighs nip closer together.

‘Thanks Steve,’ I say, and I kiss his cheek, resting my forehead against the side of his face.

‘That’s okay,’ he says. ‘We need to let these things out.’

I kiss him. A closed mouth kiss on the lips, and he returns the compliment. I kiss him again, this time my lips more open and passionate, but…

‘Easy tiger,’ he says softly. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘I do,’ I say, trying to sound seductive but hearing my voice breaking as I speak. I reach for his lips with mine again, and this time he pulls back placing his free hand on my shoulder, his other arm sliding from round my back to my other shoulder.

‘Carla, you’re upset at the moment, and I don’t want to take advantage of that.’

I’m stunned, and I know it shows on my face.

‘I wouldn’t be a good idea.’

‘It would make me feel better,’ I say.

‘Maybe it would,’ he says. ‘But I don’t want to complicate things.’

‘Complicate things?’

‘You’re obviously feeling vulnerable at the moment, and I’m not in the habit of taking advantage of vulnerable people.’

I’m still stunned.

I can’t recall a time when a man has turned me down, ever.

‘Besides,’ he says with a smile. ‘I like to take a girl out before getting more… intimate… with her.’

My arousal dissipates completely as I realise nothing more than a hug is going to happen between us. Something inside me feels like it’s missing, like I’ve been short changed somehow.

‘Come on,’ he says standing up. ‘I’ll make us another drink; the last one has gone cold.’ He stands up and heads towards the kitchen. He looks back over his shoulder in a way that says I should follow him. ‘And you might want to check your face in that mirror,’ he says, nodding towards the large wall mirror over the mantle place.

I’m still feeling surprised but I find myself doing as he says. The reflection that looks back at me doesn’t look like mine. The eyes are red and bloodshot, but worse than that, my face is streaked with dirt from the cloth I used to dry my eyes. Oh my god!

‘There’s some tissues on the side,’ says Steve from the kitchen.

I grab a few, wrapping them round my finger and licking the end to make it damp. I look back at my reflection and start dabbing.

Yeah. I wouldn’t want to fuck that either!

*

As you can probably tell, Steve really took the wind out my sails the other day, in a good way. As I say, I’ve never had a man turn me down and as I write this I find myself wondering what it means. I haven’t quite made sense of it all yet. Anyway, I have no doubt I’ll find out in the fullness of time. I hope so anyway.

If you like you can follow my daily activities on Twitter.

Until next time 🙂

xoxo

Saff & Lilly – 1

Saff & Lilly – 1

I don’t know about you but I don’t really believe in long term relationships. It might have something to do with my dad having had an affair and ultimately leaving my mum. She was totally devastated and it didn’t help that the lady he had the affair with was my mum’s best friend. She became really depressed and I was left looking after her and doing all the housework. It was hard, in fact really hard because I was I was trying to get on at school, and I had been doing really well up until that point. I had good grades in English, Maths, Art, Social Studies and was doing ok in my other subjects. But after my dad left my grades took a downward slide and I didn’t do as well as I maybe could have done.

Anyway, the point is I don’t really believe in long term relationships, and that’s why I love what I do. I still get pleasure from helping people with their housework and I have a lot of fun along the way. In an earlier post I showed you my work schedule and within that there are fourteen customers that I have fun with. I like all of them, they’re all very different and I find that exciting. I find that I have to actually like them though, because if I don’t then it’s not fun at all, and that’s why I also have customers for whom I simply clean their houses. Also, I’m not interested in having fun with married men, or men who are attached. No! I’ve seen first hand the damage that can do and I wouldn’t want to be a part of any situation like that. Having said that, there are a couple of exceptions – Saff & Lilly and Leo & Fran.

Leo and Fran are a lovely couple and they’re swingers. It took me ages to accept what they do. On occasion Leo would flirt openly with me in front of Fran, and it really freaked me out; so much so that I considered ending my working relationship with them. Thankfully they picked up on the fact that I was unnerved and one day after I’d finished cleaning their house they offered me a coffee, over which they explained that they were swingers. I’d never really encountered anyone up to that point that was comfortable in a relationship where each partner can have sex with other people. It’s a big thing apparently and there are websites dedicated to the lifestyle where they organise social events. It seems to have moved on past the days of dinner parties and car key swapping. I’ve talked to both Leo and Fran about how they came to be swingers and I found it fascinating. I’ll tell you more about them one day.

Then there’s Saffron or Saff or Saffy as she prefers to be called, and Lilly who are in a lesbian marriage. They are such an adorable couple. They trashed a stereotype I held about lesbians. I always believed there was a more manly one and a more feminine one and to be quite frank I didn’t understand why they weren’t actually hetero. We got talking one day and feeling somewhat embarrassed by my naivety I’d spluttered out my male/female understanding. Saff & Lilly were very kind about it – I guess they’ve experience my type of idiocy a lot in their lives. Anyway, they educated me in the different lesbian labels. I did some research online and to be honest, you can find those labels in all sexes, which made me realise it was more about being in a loving relationship than the labels.

I felt comfortable enough with Saff & Lilly to tell them I’d once fantasised about being in a relationship with a woman. The problem was I couldn’t imagine being with a woman and not wanting some male action once in a while. I’d also written a short, erotic story about my fantasy that included getting some male action. They said they’d love to read it. No bloody way! I thought. You’ll think I’m crazy and I’ll lose you as customers. I wished I’ve never opened my mouth. They persistently cajoled me until eventually I gave in. I felt so sheepish handing it over, like a kid at school caught exchanging notes with their friends in class and told to read it out loud. Thankfully I didn’t have to read it to them…I handed it over after I’d finished cleaning their house one week and promptly left.

When I went back a fortnight later they both told me what they thought.

‘It’s good,’ said Saffy nodding. ‘I loved it.’

‘Me too,’ said Lilly.

I’m not good at accepting compliments.

‘But…’ I said.

Saffy smiled, still nodding, her blonde hair trailing over her shoulders. ‘There isn’t really a ‘but’. The writing had both of us engaged and we found it, stimulating.’ She looked at Lilly and they both giggled like schoolgirls.

‘Now I can definitely hear a ‘but’ coming,’ I said.

‘Okay,’ said Lilly. ‘The only ‘but’ is that neither of us would ever need a man for satisfaction.’

Saffy laughed. ‘But,’ she said. ‘We completely understand why you would write it that way. Because that’s the way you are personally inclined.’

‘Does that make sense?’ asked Lilly.

I had to agree it did.

And that’s the thing with writing, it’s hard to escape your own perspective.

So, for a bit of fun, I thought I’d share my first foray into writing a lesbian /bi scene with you. Please feel free to let me know what you think.

*

Beth & Jenny

We were both waiting for a knock on the door… waiting for him to arrive. I’m stood in the bathroom doorway clad in a dressing gown and smoking a cigarette while watching Jenny moisturising her legs. She’s got one leg on the bath side and she’s using both hands to massage lotion into her pale, milky skin; she’s being careful to cover all of her leg. Fuck! She looks sexy as hell! She’s wearing a black baby doll, French knickers and no bra. A tingle starts at the base of my hairline as I imagine our skin touching and I shiver as it runs over my head making my hair feel like it’s stood on end. I’m mesmerised watching her ease the lotion into her soft, pale skin knowing that soon I’ll been caressing her, gently tracing my fingers up the inside of her thighs and making her squirm with anticipation.

Jenny and I have been together for 2 years and 3 months now, ever since that night in Thomas’ Wine Bar. Thomas’ has always been a favourite haunt for people of an alternative persuasion and when I met Jenny, it’s fair to say she was alternative. She was dressed in stockings, suspenders, high heels, and a basque with nothing but laces down the back. She looked so damn hot. She was stood at the bar leaning into some chap, I had no idea who he was but she was nibbling his neck and whispering seductively into his ear. She’d glanced round and caught me looking at her and looked away quickly. She looks a right bitch, I thought. Then she turned and looked at me again, this time straight in the eyes. I hoped it was to check to see if I was still looking at her and she told me later that it was. I always liked that about Jenny – she saw what she liked and went for it. The rest, as they say, is history- the bloke she’d being whispering to was shrugged off and Jenny and I ended up leaving together.

Anyway, as I say, Jenny and I have been together for over 2 years… 2 years, 3 months and 4 days if I’m going to be accurate but hair is hair and sometimes hair doesn’t need to be split to make a point. As I also said we were waiting for him, him being Rob. Jenny and I are both bi-sexual. We’re both slim, she’s a size 10 and I’m a 6 to 8, and we’re both hot (so we’ve been told multiple times), and most importantly we’re both very feminine; and despite being madly in love with each other we both still love the feeling of a real, beefy man from time to time… and this was one of those times. Dildos are ok, but they’re just lifeless bits of plastic. Thankfully we both have the same urges usually around the same time, maybe due to synchronised menstrual cycles as popular science suggests. Nevertheless, we were both horny for cock at the same time, so we’d given Rob a ring and now he was here.

Rob is one of a list of regulars we call on when we feel this way, but to be fair we see Rob the most. He’s not the best looking man in the world but he’s fairly well hung and for a bloke he’s a good lover…for a bloke! Rob has a firm but sensitive touch and he doesn’t nip when he squeezes.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

The door.

I snap back from gazing at Jenny’s shapely legs being moisturised and look up. She looks at me with a cheeky smile, – Enjoying yourself? She asks.

– I was miles away, I said. – I’ll go and let Rob in.

I put out my cigarette in the ashtray, I really should empty that, and I head downstairs to the back door.

I open the door to see Rob’s cheeky smile. – Hey gorgeous, he says.

– Hi sexy, I reply, smiling back at him.

Rob has short blonde hair and is wearing jeans and a t-shirt that shows off his body quite nicely. He looks well, really well in fact. Rob works out regularly and it shows. It’s not that he looks like a body builder, more like a well toned athlete. I must admit, I do like the feel of his firm muscles, and I love watching the way they ripple and move as he holds me or Jenny. He’s one of those people that moves like a cat, fluidly.

– How have you been Beth? he asks.

– Good thanks, I say. – Jenny and I have been looking at buying our own place and getting out of this dump.

– Really! This place isn’t so bad. Mind you, it will be good to get away from the dickhead next door.

– You’re not wrong, I say. – Still, it will be a shame in some respects. We’ve had some good times here. And I first met Jenny living here, but it is time we got our own place, together.

– I know what you mean, says Rob. – It’s not the same when one person moves into a place where their partner is already established. The person moving in never quite feels like they can let themselves go. I’ve been in that situation before.

– Really? You’ve never said…

– You never asked, he says with a smirk. – Where’s Jenny anyway?

– She’s upstairs getting herself ready.

– Come on then, let’s not keep the lady waiting, he says giving my backside a smack and holding his hand there he gives my cheek a squeeze. It feels good.

– I can see you’re feeling full of fun, I say enjoying his touch. I give him a sideways glance and my most seductive half smile and he pulls me into an embrace, which I half fall into bracing myself with my hands on his shoulders. His penis presses into my belly and I feel it hardening. I’m looking up into his eyes and a warm tingle is building up between my legs. My lips start to flush and his mouth opens slightly as if waiting to be kissed. I lean in and gently touch his lips with mine, flicking my tongue ever so slightly against his top lip.

– Hell Beth, he says. – I adore both you and Jenny. Why can’t the three of us get a place together?

He’s being serious. I pull back a fraction.

I love this arrangement just as it is, and as much as I love seeing Rob I’m not in love with him, nor is Jenny.

And he’s simply not Jenny.

And I love Jenny so much.

And I know she loves me.

The expression on his face changes as he realises he’s made me feel uncomfortable.

– Go on, he says and laughs, –  You know you want to. You can keep me tied up in the spare room, or in the shed and just let me in on special occasions.

With a feeling of relief I laugh along with him.

– You big loveable goon, I say giving him a friendly slap on the arm. – Come on.

I hear Jenny moving around on the landing upstairs and she calls out, – Are you two coming or what?

– Yep, on our way.

Rob let’s me go and follows me up the staircase. As I round the bend on the stairway Jenny is stood with her hands on her hips at the top of the stairs. Her head is cocked to one side. – So what were you two talking about? She asks.

– Rob wants us to keep him in our shed as our sex pet, I reply.

– Maybe that’s not a bad idea.

Rob reaches her at the top of the stairs and scoops her up in his arms laughing.

– Did I ever tell you I always loved you the most? He says.

Jenny laughs, leans forward taking Rob’s head in her hands and kisses him deeply.

– You didn’t need to baby. I’m clearly way hotter than Beth.

Jenny turns to me, her face beaming. She lifts an eyebrow, sticks her tongue out at me and winks. She’s such a cheeky little minx.

– You wait… I say as Rob runs off with her into the bedroom with me in pursuit.

We all collapse on the bed in a fit of childish giggles. Jenny escapes Rob’s arms and rolls onto me. Sat astride me she grabs my arms and holds them above my head. I know what’s coming next. I know she’s going to kiss me and I love it all the more when she pins me to the bed first.

Her lips flush.

I feel my lips warming, responding in kind. No one has ever made me feel so incredibly weak and incredibly powerful, all in the same breath… no one that is except Jenny. I turn to jelly and succumb to what comes next.

Her dark brown eyes grow darker and even more mysterious.

I melt. Just melt.

Her breaths come out deep and slow.

I notice my breathing matching hers. I steal a glance down her body, her long languid neck and how I adore kissing that neck, her pert breasts with firm suckable nipples and how I love to suck her nipples, her lithe torso and perfect belly button and I can’t wait to kiss my way below her belly button, right down to her beautiful, shaved…

– Cheeky, she says. – Are you getting a good eyeful?

I melt.

I just melt.

Then she kisses me. Her tongue slips into my mouth and I hold it between my lips and suck it. She nibbles my bottom lip, and I hers. I could kiss her forever. My heart is pounding and my arousal is making me wet, so very wet down there. Jenny grinds her crotch gently on my belly and I know she’s wet too. I leave my arms above my head as she slides her hands down them. When she reaches the sleeves of my gown she sits back up and forcefully pulls my gown open revealing my nakedness. I lift myself up pulling my arms out of the sleeves and she slips down my body opening the gown fully, then she’s back on me. – Keep your arms above your head bitch, she says. Her face is intense; her eyes are crackling with passion. I obey and move my arms and knowing what’s coming next I let my head fall to the side revealing my neck.

I suddenly notice Rob is naked. In the heat of the moment I’d almost forgotten him, but there he is naked, stood at the end of the bed, gently stroking the shaft of his hard erection; his eyes are glazed and full of lust watching our passion. – Oh Jesus! he says. He can see Jenny is about to start on me and he’s ready to join in. My legs are hung over the side of the bed. He hooks my legs over his arms and lifts us both round so we’re all fully on the bed then kneels so his upper body is between my legs with Jenny’s backside facing him. He slips his hands under her baby doll, lifts her hips and peels down her pants. She let’s him fully remove them. I glance at Jenny, her expression is dreamy as Rob bends over and flicks his tongue between her butt cheeks. Then the lust reappears in Jenny’s eyes and she pushes my head to one side and lunges at my neck. She starts at my right ear (my most sensitive) running her tongue inside the folds, taking the lobe in her mouth, pulling and caressing it with her warm lips and tongue. She moves down to my neck and my breathing becomes shallow and rapid. Oh Jenny… As if reading my mind she says – you like that baby?

– Oh yes. Yes!

She’s sucking my neck and tiny tingles of pleasure run from my hair down my spine; my back arches involuntarily. I feel Rob’s hands touch the top of my legs almost touching my pleasure centre, and he traces his fingers feather-lightly down the soft, sensitive inner skin of my thighs to the back of my knees. His touch is electric and I open my legs wider to give him access. I start shuddering uncontrollably as the combination of Jenny sucking my neck and Rob tracing pleasure lines down my thighs flashes through me like lightening.

Jenny climbs off me and lays by my side and now we’re kissing again. She caresses my neck, teasing her way to my chest, running her fingers underneath the swell of my breasts. She cups my soft flesh and teases my nipple with her thumb; I watch her fingers follow the line between my breasts back up to my neck. I am in heaven. Rob bends my knees and pushes my legs up off the bed towards me. I arch my neck and look up towards the head board so I can concentrate on what I’m feeling and not what I’m seeing. Rob kisses his way up each of my thighs then slides his tongue between my labia. An uncontrollable moan escapes from my mouth. His tongue flicks over my clitoris and my body convulses in waves of pleasure. He’s sucking my labia into his mouth, tongue fluttering over my lips and I feel a flush warming me from my navel downwards.

Jenny stops teasing me with her fingers, sits up, turns and nods at Rob who takes the cue. He hooks his arms under my knees and drags me down the bed towards his hips. I gasp and Jenny straddles me, her hips over my face giving me the opportunity to taste and pleasure her. I wrap my arms around her legs and pull her onto my face just as Rob plunges inside me. Oh god that’s so damn good!. He hooks my legs over his shoulders and starts a steady rhythm hitting my g-spot with his hard shaft. His plunges rock me up and down allowing Jenny to enjoy my tongue rhythmically pleasuring her clitoris. Jenny throws her head back, her long dark hair falling down her arched back and she bears down forcing herself into my eager mouth. She moans. She tastes divine, simply divine.

Waves of pleasure rack through my body and I feel my first orgasm building. My body feels electric, glowing, my heart pounding. I hear my voice calling out but I’m not aware of the words. – Oh, my, fucking, God! Oh God!

Spasms and tingles shake my body like a rag doll and it pushes Rob out of me. I can feel Jenny is close too and I press my tongue harder onto her clitoris and within a few seconds she throws herself forward and convulses with pleasure, lifting herself off me as her clitoris fires her up, raw and sensitive.

Rob pauses, watching, waiting for our pleasure to fade; it’s not long, just a few seconds; he can wait no longer. He lifts Jenny up by the hips and pulls her back towards him and he thrusts into her from behind. I reach down and pinch Jenny’s nipples watching her hair flowing across my face and chest as Rob builds pace, his thrusts growing more and more intense as his passion rises. He reaches forward placing a hand on Jenny’s shoulder, his other hand holding her by the hips and he pulls her onto him. His face is red, his eyes glazed, his thrusts forceful and manly and I can tell he’s close.

– FUCK! he shouts. – I’m close…so close.

– Go on Rob, give it to her!

– Yes give it to me. NOW! screams Jenny, and suddenly he stops and pulls out. He moves quickly up the bed and penis in hand he pushes it towards my mouth.

– Swallow! He says and I take him in my mouth. His salty seed hits the back of my throat and I swallow.

– Now you he says, pushing himself towards Jenny. She wraps her mouth around his shaft and he releases another load into her hungry mouth.

This is what Jenny and I love about Rob, he has awesome self control; he gets himself to exploding point and stops before he orgasms, releasing some of his semen and savouring the experience. Tantric sex he calls it. Whatever it is, it is awesome! 

            Rob is ready to carry on. In fact all three of us are.

I love our meetings with Rob.

More importantly I adore and love Jenny.

And we both love our sex life,

together.

*

So that was it. My first attempt at writing a bi/lesbian piece.

What do you think? Please comment and let me know.

I’ve edited this several times and I guess I could go on and on editing.

When I wrote this I was having fantasies about being with another girl, and I had a couple of people in mind. Obviously I’m Beth in the piece 😉 Every time I re-read it and tweak the writing, it gets me aroused. I hope it works for you too 😀

If you like you can follow my daily activities on Twitter.

Until next time 🙂

xoxo

 

Oliver-1

Oliver – 1

Well… I intended to tell you about Oliver in my last post, but as you know, that one got away from me. That’s a funny thing about writing; sometimes you start off in one direction, then, before you know it, you’ve gone in a completely different one. It’s not a bad thing I guess because obviously I needed to get that out of my head, and, at least now you have an idea of my current work schedule.

Oliver is one of those adrenaline junkie types and he likes to test himself, to test the limits of what he can do and handle emotionally. Amongst other thrills he likes crazy roller coasters, skydiving, motorbike riding and he’s saving up to get himself one of those crazy wing-suits that almost make you into a bird or something. He works for himself and has his own web design business. He’s usually working in his office at home when I visit. His house is large for one person, too large in my opinion, but it’s not me that has to live there. It’s a 3 bed end townhouse in an estate in the city that still has an air of being a ‘new build’ even though it’s about 10 years old. I clean his house once a fortnight on a Tuesday afternoon and I’d been going for about 3 months I think… when one time I discovered something about Oliver that changed the dynamics of our relationship.

*

I daydream a lot. It’s one of the things I like about cleaning. In fact one of the wonderful things I’ve learned about cleaning is that once you’ve developed effective practices and turned them into habits, it’s like driving- you can get to where you’re going and not even notice the journey. Sometimes, when I’ve finished a job, I look back and I think how did that happen? The place sparkles and I’m not even aware of how I’ve done it. Today was moving in that direction.

When I’m cleaning I operate using a general policy of – if the door is closed it means keep out! Some people like to keep some rooms private, which is understandable. If I had the builders in I don’t think I’d like the thought of them going through my panty drawer… but on the other hand… what if they’re hot? But it’s not just about panties though, it’s about offices and workspaces and the things people just don’t want disturbing in general. I often wonder if the room is a shrine to a dead loved one, like you sometimes see in thriller or horror films.

As I say – I daydream, a lot!

Nevertheless, I always respect my customer’s privacy which has helped with my reputation, and given the high profile nature of one of my customers, I’d say it’s a requirement of my work.

Oliver’s bathroom is tiled in black. It wouldn’t be my personal choice but it is rather magnificent looking. The chrome fittings really stand out against it, especially the shower which I’m cleaning when my mind starts to wander. I am going away at the weekend with Beth. We’ve planned a visit to Harrogate with an overnight stay at the Crown Hotel and while I’m working I’m wondering if we’ll get up to any mischief. We’ve not been to Harrogate for a long time and there are some rather nice wine bars, especially on John Street which is less of a street and more of a paved alley. There’s also the cheap and very cheerful Wetherspoons in the magnificent setting of the old baths. We’ll probably end up in Vipers club, dancing the night away. I’m so lost in my thoughts that before I realise it I’ve finished in the bathroom, grabbed the vacuum cleaner and I’m vacuuming round the house. I start downstairs in the kitchen, move through into the conservatory and still in my reverie I open a door off the conservatory that’s normally closed.

2017-08-24-15-17-13

 

Oh.

 

My.

God.

 

I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

I am dumbstruck.

Literally dumbstruck.

 

I had no idea Oliver was this way inclined!

I can’t help myself and I step inside the room to get a closer look.

 

Oliver has a dungeon.

 

It’s always struck me as odd that they’re called dungeons given that they’re not underground. Nevertheless, Oliver has a sex dungeon. The first thing to catch my eye is a seated bench with leather shackles that look like they wrap round the body. There’s a dog cage on the floor.  What the hell is that for? I hope he’s not in any bestiality shit. Against the far wall there’s a big X shaped cross, again with shackles for hands and feet. I can see an old school desk in the corner and there’s what looks like a tiny prison cell with a barred door. The walls are adorned with whips, canes, chains and all sorts of other BDSM paraphernalia. I’ve heard about these kinds of places, but never in my life have I seen one… and truth be known, I never expected to see one.

            ‘The kinky bastard!’

            ‘I beg your pardon?’ Said a voice behind me. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, Carla?’

Fuck! I was so rapt with what I was seeing I hadn’t heard Oliver come in behind me.

Fuck! My heart starts pounding in my chest and I feel my face flushing red.

            ‘Oliver. I’m so sorry…’

            A big grin spread across his face. ‘And so you fucking well should be!’

            ‘I was vacuuming and I was miles away… and… and, well, I wandered in without thinking, and…’

            ‘You started thinking that I might be a bit kinky?’

            ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say.

Oliver’s laughing, loudly.

            ‘What’s so funny?’ I ask.

            ‘What… you think I’m embarrassed or something?’ He says.

            ‘Well you might not be, but I am! I’m not in the habit of sticking my nose into people’s private stuff.’

            ‘That might well be the case,’ says Oliver. ‘But the cat’s out of the bag now… or should I say the cat’s hung on the wall.’

He laughs again and I look at him puzzled.

            ‘Cat of nine tails…’ he says.

            ‘Oh.’ I glance across at the whip hung on the wall as the penny drops.

            ‘So, what do you think of me now?’ He asks.

I take a minute and look around the dungeon again, taking in what I’m seeing. ‘To be honest, knowing how much you’re into your thrill seeking stuff, it doesn’t really surprise me!’

‘Yeah I get that,’ he says. ‘Have you ever fancied trying it out?’

Suddenly I realise that although I love sex and that I’m quite promiscuous, I’ve not really been very adventurous when it comes to trying different lifestyles.

            ‘Yes of course I have,’ I lie. It’s only a little lie because I have been tied up before. I’ve just never seen or played in a proper dungeon.

Oliver laughs again.

He’s got one of those laughs that lights up his whole face, and I like that, a lot. His pale blue eyes are twinkling and his pupils are large, possibly due to the dim lighting but more likely because he’s aroused. I’ve learned to notice sexual cues but also learned you need to take other things into account that might stimulate them, like the environment for example. Oliver is a hot bloke. I say bloke…he’s mid to late twenties, twenty eight I think, and because of his boyish good looks, neatly styled, side parted mousey blonde hair and slim build, he could still probably pass for late teens. He’s definitely hot.

Up until this point we’ve only flirted in passing. He’s usually busy in his office when I come, and I never clean his office.

            ‘Are you telling me the truth?’ He asks.

            ‘Well, I’ve been tied up before, but I’ve never seen a set up like this.’

            ‘Ah!’ he says. ‘A virgin.’

            ‘Hardly!’

            ‘You know what I mean. There’s no need to be touchy.’ He’s grinning at me. ‘Well, now you know about it you might as well add this to your cleaning remit. And, if you ever fancy trying it out, let me know,’ he says. With that he turns round and started towards the door.

            ‘Wait!’ I say, my mouth engaging before my brain can stop it.

I realise I am quite turned on. Maybe it’s the musky smell of sex in the room, maybe it’s the thought of all the kinky, sexy action that’s taken place in this room, or maybe it’s the thrill of trying something new…whatever it is, it’s got me going and I’m feeling a tingle of excitement low down in my belly. ‘Wait!’

            ‘What is it?’

            ‘Maybe you could talk me through what some of these things are for?’ I suggest.

Oliver stops and turns back to face me. He gives me a long, slow appraising look and I can tell he’s mentally undressing me. It makes my thighs squirm and my panties thrillingly damp. The cheeky, knowing look on his face tells me he’s keen.

            ‘I think it would be fun to play with you in here,’ he says. ‘But to do it properly we’d need time, and we’d need to sort out a limits agreement too.’ He pauses, clearly weighing something up. ‘But to be honest, I am really busy today and working to a deadline.’

            ‘Oh. Okay.’ I try and fail to hide my disappointment.

He looks at me thoughtfully. ‘But if you want you can ask me about some of the things in here and what they’re for, and how they’re used…’

What I really want at that moment in time is for him to tie me to something, bend me over, slap my arse and take me from behind like the horny slut I feel. My inner itch is itching to be scratched! However, that’s doesn’t seem to be on the cards, so I accept his compromise. ‘Okay then, what the hell is that for?’ I ask, pointing to the dog cage.

            ‘Well,’ says Oliver smiling. ‘Let’s just say that’s for really naughty girls. Do you want to try it out?’

I’m relieved he didn’t say anything perverse.

A battle starts in my head. No. Yes. No. Yes. No.

            ‘Hmmm,’ I say and I give in to the yes voice. ‘Okay.’2017-10-03-03-51-09

He opens the cage door. ‘Get in, bitch.!’ He says with a laugh. I drop onto my hands and knees and clamber in feeling decidedly unappealing. He closes the door behind me and immediately I realise I don’t like it.

            ‘Let me out! LET ME OUT!’

            ‘Woah,’ he says opening the door quickly. I scuttle out and sit on the floor taking deep breaths.

            ‘Jeez,’ he says.  ‘What happened there?’

            ‘I didn’t like that at all.’ I’m panting like a greyhound after a race. ‘That’s way too confined and restricted for me.’

            ‘You okay?’

            ‘I will be in a few seconds,’ I say gulping down deep breaths, trying to slow my racing heart.

            ‘Well, at least we know that’s not for you,’ he says.

            ‘Absolutely.’ I’m till panting.

            ‘Maybe we should try something a little less confined,’ he says. ‘Do you fancy trying those shackles out?’ He points to the X shaped cross. ‘I don’t have to fully tighten them, if you don’t want.’

The combination of my initial excitement and the fear of confinement has clearly got my adrenalin moving, and I’m somewhat surprised to hear myself agreeing. Oliver holds out his hand which I take, and he leads me to the cross.

            ‘Not my ankles though,’ I tell him.

            ‘No problem.’ He buckles each of my hands into the shackles. They’re quite tight nevertheless I could get myself out, if I really wanted to.

            ‘How does that feel?’ He asks.

            ‘Fine. But, to be honest I don’t get it.’

            ‘Don’t get what?’

            ‘I don’t get what the thrill is,’ I say.

            ‘We’re only playing at it here Carla,’ he says. ‘Would you like to play a bit more seriously?’

I pick up on the contradiction in his words. ‘Play, seriously?’

            ‘You know damn well what I mean, smart arse.’

            ‘I know but…’

            ‘Well, do you want to, or not?’

He’s being serious and I’m not quite sure how to take it, but the thought of letting him play with me while I’m shackled and helpless is thrilling.

I can hear the apprehension in my voice as I acquiesce.

He undoes the buckles and says ‘Good, now strip.’ His eyes have become stern and serious and I start to undo my combats.

            ‘Safe words,’ he says. ‘If you want me to stop at any point say red. Got it?’

I nod as I lift my top over my head.

            ‘And if you want me just to slow down, the word is mercy. Got that?’

            ‘Got it.’ I’m stood looking at him in just my bra and panties and he looks me up and down. It makes me feel quite self conscious in a way I’ve never felt before. ‘Do want everything off?’

            ‘No. Give me your hands and repeat the safe words back to me.’ This time he shackles me in a bit tighter than before and as he does I repeat the safe words – red means stop, mercy means slow down. I’m still convinced that if I really wanted to I could break free.

            ‘What happens now?’ I ask.

            ‘Did I say you could talk?’ His voice is stern and authoritive. ‘You need to understand the importance of the safe words. If you tell me to stop or that you’ve had enough, I’ll take it that you’re playing. Absolutely no other requests, demands or resistance will make me stop what I do. Understand?’

He steps back, gazing at my barely covered body. I’m wishing I’d worn better underwear, something that at least matched. My feelings of self consciousness are making themselves known with a thumping beat in my chest. I pull against my restraints and realise he really has made sure I can’t get out this time.

            ‘You understand?’ He says again.

‘Yes, I think so.’

            ‘Think so!’ He says. ‘Not good enough.’

I strain against the shackles narrowing the shape of my hands to try and slip them out.

‘It’s no good trying to escape,’ he says and he’s right, I can’t get my hands out and the chains are bolted to the cross so there’s no give there.

‘Do you understand?’ He demands again.

‘Yes. Yes!’

‘Good. Now, you’ve been somewhat wayward today Carla, sticking your fucking nose in where it shouldn’t be, haven’t you?’

I nod. Inside I’m screaming RED RED RED. I realise I don’t know Oliver that well and he could in fact be one of those fucked up crazy killers I read about in Val McDermid novels – the kind Tony Hill and Carol Jordan hunt for in the Wire In The Blood series. What the hell am I doing here! RED RED RED.

Then I notice him looking at my breasts, and the look on his face says lust, not kill.

I’ve never felt so vulnerable and so alive at the same time.

My pants are soaking and I can smell my arousal in the air. He must be able to smell that too. He seems to stare at my body for ages but in reality it’s only a few seconds before he steps forward. Reaching behind me he pulls me away from the cross and deftly unclips my bra.

‘You’ve clearly done that before,’ I say.

He takes my face with his hand and turns it towards him so he’s nose to nose with me, glaring deep into my eyes. His other hand is under my bra, grasping my breast, squeezing my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.AirBrush_20171003040924-picsay

‘Did, I, say, you, could, talk.’ He says.

I shake my head.

He pushes me back against the cross and the cold surface of the wood against my skin makes me shiver. My bra has those little clips at the front that hook the shoulder straps to the cups, Oliver undoes them and pulls my bra off completely. He puts both of his hands around my neck like he’s going to choke me but he slides them down over my breasts, rib cage and onto my midriff. It makes me clench in anticipation and a part of me wishes I’d done a few more crunches this morning.

‘You filthy little slut,’ he says, tracing his fingers slowly up and down my belly. It’s excruciating. I’m twitching and jerking like a fish on a line.

We’re still face to face. I nod, saying nothing. He hasn’t said I can speak yet.

‘I’m going to abuse your body as punishment for discovering my secret.’

I nod again, our noses rubbing against each other. My lips are aching for him to kiss me.

‘You want me to kiss you don’t you?’

Is he fucking psychic or what? He sees the astonishment on my face.

‘They always want to be kissed,’ he says. ‘But naughty sluts don’t get kissed. They get punished and fucked.’

With one hand on my breast he slips the other inside my pants, feeling my wetness.

‘Jesus Carla,’ he says. ‘You are a naughty little slut aren’t you!’

I nod.

I’m so not used to this at all. I’m the one normally in control and at this point all I want to do is throw my arms around him and ride him until I hit that magic moment where waves of pleasure throw me into an ocean of ecstasy. His teasing fingers are not helping at all! He’s gently circling them in and out of all my sensitive folds and around my hot little clit. I’m trapped between exhilaration and agony, my body aching to taken, craving to have him inside me.

‘You bastard!’ The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. ‘You utter, fucking, teasing bastard.’

‘That’s more like it. I like a bit of fight in my girl,’ he says and he rips my knickers off completely, pushing them down my thighs.

I’m totally exposed, caught between desire and vulnerability.

‘But I still didn’t say you could talk.’

He turns me round so I’m facing the wall, pulling my hips back so my backside is stuck out, facing him.

‘It’s time you were punished for your wayward ways,’ he says, stepping so he’s sideways on to me. ‘Arch your back, stick your arse right out.’

I do as I’m told. My arms are crossed in front of me and at full stretch. I look back, trying to see what he’s doing but at the moment all he’s doing is squeezing my cheeks, giving them an occasional slap after which he squeezes again, slipping his fingers between my thighs and caressing my wet lips with his finger tips. Suddenly he swings his arm back and spanks me. My legs jerk with the shock.

It hurt, but in a good way.

‘Bastard,’ I say.

He swings and spanks again.

‘Bastard!’

And again.

Each time after the spank he keeps his hand on my cheek and touches between my legs as though testing I’m still turned on. I am. I’m getting wetter and wetter as I realise this is just the build up to him grabbing me by the hips and fucking me senseless. This is foreplay like I’ve never experienced before. I know it’s coming, I just don’t know when. Only Oliver knows. If this were a night out dancing in a club with Beth and some chap was trying to pull me and get into my pants, then I’d be the one who knew if and what was going to happen between us. But this is the other way round, and I realise I like it. It’s good to let go of the reigns, to relax into someone else’s control, even if it does have a mix of pain and pleasure with it. But I guess guys go through that too. The pain of rejection when they chat a girl up mixed with the pleasure of a result when their charms work on us. The combination works and I guess we’re all wired to appreciate that in some way.

‘Bastard!’

And again.

‘Had enough yet, slut?’

‘Just fuck me you bastard.’

And again, but harder this time.

‘You’re loving this aren’t you slut.’

‘Fuck me you bastard.’

And again, ever harder. My cheeks feel inflamed.

‘I can do this all day and night,’ he says.

It’s at that point I realise this is where I have the control. He will indeed keep spanking, until I comply. I can get him to fuck me if I’m a good little slut, and keep my mouth shut.

But maybe not just yet…

I decide to keep this going a couple more times before finally saying nothing after his spank.

‘Have you finished being a cheeky slut? He asks.

I nod, my head down. I take a few deep breaths to control the flaming sensation my poor arse is feeling.

‘Are you sure?’ He asks.

I nod again.

He turns me round to face him.

‘I know what you want,’ he says, and he reaches to undo the shackles.

I wasn’t expecting that. I thought he was going to fuck me there and then. Maybe he’s going to move me somewhere else and take me.

‘But not today,’ he says.

WHAT!

I’m gob-smacked, but daren’t say anything just yet, just in case.

‘We’ll go further another day, when I’ve got more time. I can wait. We’re finished playing today’

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ I say. ‘You get me all turned on and horny and just leave it there!’

‘Yup.’

I’m torn between rampant and anger.

‘You total bastard,’ I say. ‘How can you do that? Aren’t you turned on?’

‘Oh hell yes,’ he admits. ‘But it’ll be all the more sweeter if we wait.’

Given that one of my pleasures is the thrill of the build up I can’t deny what he’s saying. I’m just not used to it being this way round. It’s me that should be holding back and doing the teasing, me that should be in control here. Me!

‘Besides,’ he says. ‘We really need to talk a bit more about this lifestyle before going ahead. If you’re really interested?’

I’m still stunned as I grab my clothes and get dressed.

‘I can’t deny it Oliver, I’m impressed.’

‘Impressed?’

‘There aren’t many men who would have held back.’

‘Well,’ he says. ‘I like to think I’m different to other men’

‘You sure as hell are!’

*

That was my first encounter with Oliver. Without doubt you’ll be hearing more about him in future posts.

If you like you can follow my daily activities on Twitter.

Until next time 🙂

xoxo

 

Not-about-Oliver!

The not-about-Oliver post…

If you’ve read my other posts you’ll know that this year has been somewhat tumultuous in terms of having to move house. It was made more difficult because I haven’t been self employed for long enough to have 3 years accounts, which if you know anything about those ridiculously over priced referencing checks, you’ll appreciate that being self employed makes them more difficult to pass. In short they wanted six months rent in advance.

SIX MONTHS!

Sheesh! If I had that kind of money I’d be looking to put a deposit down to buy, let alone rent!

Anyway, I won’t bore you with the very tedious details of how things turned out… unless you ask me that is… My point in briefly telling you this was to get to this point, are you ready?

All the turmoil has put me so far behind with my writing.

I’m buried underneath a mountain of exciting events just waiting to be strung together into stories. Stories that I hope you’ll enjoy reading, but also I personally want to revisit and savour them once again. My head feels full. Actually no, it is full, and I need to empty my teeny brain of all the words and pictures so I can make space for all the new ones as they happen. And of course once they’re written down I can savour them over and over again, especially the ones about Richard :wink, wink:.

I want to write in real time, and for me that means pretty much as soon as I’ve got my knickers back on! Ok maybe not that soon but the same night, or at the latest by the end of the same week.

As I wrote that I found myself wondering if you think my whole day is just about doing a little cleaning then getting shagged senseless… is that what you’re thinking? Well, some days yes, it can be like that, but also there are days I when all I do is clean. If you’ve seen my Twitter account you’ll have noticed the odd picture of my work that I’m really quite proud of; and I really do enjoy cleaning. You maybe wouldn’t think that was true if you saw my own place. It looks like a dozen girls walked in, had a pyjama party and threw their clothes all over the furniture whilst leaving some empty cups dotted around and some washing up in the sink for good measure. So, when I say I enjoy cleaning, I really mean I enjoy cleaning other people’s homes and getting paid for it. The fact that often I get to satisfy some of my kinky slut urges is a bonus.

So, whilst it’s fair to say I enjoy cleaning…

I actually love sex.

I might even be addicted lol.

I love the build up, the tension, the kissing and the touching. But most of all I love being wanted. I love it when I see their faces alight with their lust for me. Their flushed faces and ravenous eyes are so, so beautiful. When they realise what I want from them, what arouses in their trousers makes my lady parts tingle. Their hunger for me makes me wet, so very, very wet. So wet that I can’t put my knickers back on afterwards – I sometimes feel I could drown a small rodent, maybe a hamster or a gerbil. Actually not a gerbil, that’s more Richard Gere’s thing! But anyway the point is they want me and that really excites me. So much so that even just writing about it makes me really horny. Hang on… I need to take a break…

 

 

Ok, I’m back. Sorry about that. I had to get that out of my system, thankfully I put fresh batteries in the ‘rabbit’ earlier this week… (check the link and see if you can guess which one is mine 😉 I’ll be reviewing it on here soon lol)

Just look at this tangent I’ve gone down. When I started writing today I had in mind to tell you about one of my early encounters with Oliver, but clearly I’ve done a ski-slalom all over the place. So much for Oliver! lol. I’ll come back to Oliver soon, I promise!

As I was writing I began to realise that maybe it would be a good idea to map out my schedule and highlight where the hotspots are in my working week – actually wet spots is probably more apt than hotspots, but hotspots works too I guess, but you get my meaning.

So here’s my schedule with the ‘wetspots’ in red, naturally –

schedule - 09.17

The slots in blue are people who just want a regular cleaner…as far as I know anyway! I keep some time available on the first and third Mondays of each month for 1-off work and I always keep the last Friday afternoon off for me. I like to go away once a month and I like to leave early which makes the weekend last forever.

Back to the wetspots… I really like that term hahaha. Anyway, as you can see there are a few there. The first Friday of a month can be busy, especially as that’s the day I see Richard. Having all this mapped out makes it look like I get laid every day whereas the reality is a little different. Naturally some days my customers are not horny, just like you and me. So some days those red wetspots are really blue general cleans.

Having said all that, I’m guessing now you can see why it’s been easy for me to get behind writing up my stories, so, I’d better get busy!

Watch this space…

*

Oliver’s story coming soon – I promise!

If you like you can follow my daily activities on Twitter.

Until next time 🙂

xoxo

 

Harry 1

Harry

I see Harry a couple of times a month for 2 hours.  He’s a customer that found me through one of my business adverts in the local free newspaper. I know it might not seem like it but I do actually take my cleaning work seriously and on occasion, usually when I have a vacancy for a new customer, I do some proper advertising.  Anyway, that was in the days when people used to read those free newspapers instead of looking on Facebook or Gumtree or Vivastreet. More recently most of my work has come from social media like Facebook and word of mouth, and I would have to say more so from word of mouth, which is hardly surprising considering the perks some of my customers get! Personally I think it’s better when new customers come to me through word of mouth. It’s kind of like they’ve been vetted beforehand. I’m confident my existing customers wouldn’t send anyone dodgy my way. Why would they?

Harry’s a lovely bloke and to my suprise he’s not really tried that hard with me.  In fact it’s more accurate to say he’s not tried at all! Maybe I’m not his type, although I can’t see why not! Doesn’t every man want a woman who likes cleaning and might also be a good shag? However they might also want someone who can cook too which would totally rule me out!

Harry’s hot enough for me to find him attractive – he wouldn’t be a customer of mine if he wasn’t! He’s got medium length blonde hair, not platinum or really light blonde, more like caramel ice cream. He’s quite tall, about 6 feet and he’s stocky. His weight fluctuates periodically between heavy-set-beefcake and, oops-I-ate-too-much-cake! It all depends on his relationship status. When a girl has caught his eye he makes more effort to look his best, however when he’s between girlfriends his weight tends to increase. Today he’s in a between girlfriend phase, nevertheless he’s still easy on the eye.

The front door opened just as I was putting the key in.

– Come in Carla.

– Thanks hun. I wasn’t expecting you to be in, is everything okay?

– Yes all is well, he said stepping aside to let me pass. – I’ve got a couple of days off work.

– It’s alright for some… so what have you been doing with your bad self during your time off?

– Washing clothes, a couple of trips to the pool… just taking it easy really.

I give him a flirty look raising an eyebrow as I say, – sounds like you need to have some fun!

He laughs. – I’m okay thanks, he says, drawing a very definite line under my flirty intentions.

– Just the usual today please.

In terms of cleaning his house, Harry’s usual means a full clean of the bathroom and kitchen, dusting his lounge and dining room plus the spare bedroom come study come playroom, before finally giving the whole house a good vacuum throughout. It takes the full two hours to do. Occasionally he likes other odd jobs doing like some ironing, cupboards cleaning etc., but not today. Coming from a professional background I was trained to work from the top down and this basically means doing all the surface work first, brushing dust and debris onto the floor before finishing with the vacuum cleaner. It makes sense to work this way and I’ve never had any reason to change. Personally I like to get the time intensive work out of the way first so I tend to start in the kitchen and move onto the bathroom before finishing with the other tasks. I find this works well as it’s easier to take short-cuts with vacuuming than it is doing the detail work of a full clean. Today is no different and I make my way to the kitchen.

Harry’s kitchen is long and narrow. The pine effect unit doors with circular handles are in good condition but they are a bit dated. The sink unit is standard steel and his appliances are simple chrome effect and mostly centred around making good coffee. A lot of my customers have those expensive Dualit toasters, as has Harry. I can only assume they’re good. The truth is they’re out of my price range for a toaster! I am about half way through cleaning the kitchen when Harry walks in.

– Fancy a cuppa, he says.

– Thanks, I’d love one. Tea please.

– Strong but milky and one sugar right?

– Perfect, I say. – You’ll make someone a lovely boyfriend one day.

Harry laughs heartily as he fills the kettle with water, pops it onto the stand and flicks the switch on.  He grabs a couple of mugs from the cupboard above the kettle and drops a couple of teabags in them.

– I doubt that, he says.

– Why do you say that?

– Well, he says. – My track record kind of speaks for itself.

I smile at him sweetly. – You just haven’t met the right girl yet, I say.

He laughs again. – That’s rather evident, otherwise I’d be with her!

We both laugh, Harry at my inane statement of the obvious, and me because he missed my flirting.

I turn away from him and carry on wiping down the surfaces, purposefully re-doing ones I’d already done so I could brush past him. The kettle boils and I hear him pouring water into the mugs. I arch my back a little so my cheeks brush against his. He doesn’t pull away.

– Sorry, I say. – It’s a bit narrow in here.

– I’ll be out of your way soon, he says. He’s stirs the teabags in the mugs and reaches to open the fridge for the milk. – Why do you do that Carla? He asks. – Why do you flirt with me?

Well that really caught me off guard!

I turn around. – What do you mean? I ask.

– You know what I mean, he says, putting the milk and spoon down and turning round to face me.

We are facing each other and so close we’re almost hip to hip. My face flushes and I find I can’t look at him.

– I like you Harry. You’re charming, funny and… well… I just like you.

I look up into his face trying to gauge his response.

– So it’s not just because you feel sorry for me?

– What! I say, somewhat flabbergasted. – Of course not! Why on earth would you think that?

Then out of nowhere he reaches forward, takes me by the waist and pulls me towards him. His lips meet mine and I let myself slip into his kiss. He grabs my butt cheeks, kneading them firmly with the pads of his fingers. He pulls my hips into his and I feel his arousal pressing into my stomach. Then he pulls back and looks at me. He’s clearly checking my reaction.

– Oh my! I say. – You are a surprise Harry!

His face is flushed and his eyes are intense and lusty. I give him a look that says ‘give me more you bad lad,’ and he obliges. We kiss again and I slip my arms around his neck and broad shoulders, clutching at them and pulling him into me.

We kiss for an eternity and it’s good.

Really good!

Far better than I’d expected and hoped. The pressure and passion is perfect and wonderful. And he tastes amazing! Sweet and salty at the same time.

He pulls my polo shirt out of my cargo pants and my back arches as first his fingers slide up my back then his finger tips drag down gently scratching me.

– Harder, I murmur.

This time I can feel his nails dig deeper in and I groan as he makes my body shudder. I undo a couple of the top buttons on his shirt so there’s enough room for his head, then I drag it out of his jeans up and over him, tossing it on the kitchen surface behind.

– I didn’t know you had it in you Harry!

– I’ve always had it in me, he says. – And it’ll be in you in a minute.

I stop momentarily, taken aback by his cheesy line.

– What? He asks.

– Nothing! I say and kiss him to stop him saying anything else stupid.

Somewhat deftly, more deftly than I expected, he undoes my bra and reaches round to grasp my swollen breasts. Taking one in each hand he squeezes them teasing my hard nipples between his thumb and forefinger. I lift my arms in the air and he takes the hint, lifting off my top and bra in one fell swoop. I reach down and unbutton his fly, dropping to my knees and taking his jeans and boxers down at the same time.

2017-08-24-15-00-18

Harry’s a big boy! And I mean a BIG boy!

– Oh Harry, is that for me? I ask looking up at him cheekily.

– Of course baby, he says.

I reach behind him and grasp his buttocks with one hand while taking his erection in the other. My hand looks small wrapped around his penis. I direct it to my open mouth and flick my tongue over the tip. He trembles and I love it. I do it again and again and he trembles like his knees are going to buckle. I gently pull his foreskin back revealing the crimson, engorged tip and I run my tongue round it like I’m licking my favourite ice cream.

– OH! MY! GOD! He says.

His pleasure spurs me on and I can’t wait. I take him into my hungry mouth. He’s leaning back on the counter, holding on as though he’s going to fall so I free my hand from his buttocks and double hand his penis. I slurp my saliva all over him so he’s soaking wet and my hands slip easily up and down the root of his shaft while my mouth pleasures his swollen, sensitive glans. His hips begin clenching into thrusts and even with my hand on his length he still reaches the back of my throat. It feels wonderful and I know I’ve finally got Harry right where I want him. I am so damn wet! All I want is for him to lift me onto the counter, rip my pants off and fill me with his magnificent penis.

But I can wait.

It’s more enjoyable when I wait!

I continue to pleasure him, savouring his moans as a testament to my skill with my mouth and hands.

I should start a blowjob training school. I really should!

His penis convulses in my mouth and I can tell he’s close to exploding.

– Ok, stop! He says.

– You ok? I ask.

– Fucking wonderful, he says as he reaches down and lifts me up.

It looks like it’s my turn!

I never wear my shoes in a customers house to avoid dragging dirt from the outside inside, and this is one of those times it comes in handy as he undoes my jeans, lifts me onto the counter and easily removes my trousers and knickers.  I lean back and open my legs so he can see all of me. Men always like to look, and I mean properly look at you, to savour what they’re about to take.

Harry stares at my naked body sat on his kitchen counter, the look on his face pure, primal lust.

A teaspoon clatters in a mug.

– There you go, he says. – Strong but milky with one sugar.

– What? I say.

– Your tea! He says. – Where were you then? You look like you were miles away!

– What? I say again, turning round, feeling the wetness in my panties.

– I was saying about you flirting. It doesn’t really work for me.

– What!

________________________________________________________________________________

 

Well, there you have it. That was one of my earlier encounters with Harry. Needless to say I left his place a very frustrated young lady that day. I’ll tell you more about Harry soon 🙂

 

If you like you can follow my daily fun on Twitter.

Until next time 🙂

xoxo

Well that didn’t go to plan!

Here I was thinking I’d be back blogging from July onward but it simply didn’t happen!

The stress of being in limbo between flats for 4-5 months threw me much further off my game than I’d hoped.

Once I got moved in June my body and mind had something of a meltdown. I think because I was in limbo for so long I got used to being unsettled- in essence I settled into being unsettled which I appreciate is a really strange thing to say. Nevertheless, once I finally moved I’ve had to readjust to being settled- to settled into being settled. I’ve been so on edge I’ve felt drained. There have been the bills to sort out, then I had to finalise my accounts for the tax man for 2016-2017, and then just the general adjustment to living in new surroundings both abode and area wise.

Anyway, the good news is I’m back. I’ve started writing again and Harry’s first story is on the way.

I really do appreciate people who have been checking in to see what’s going on, and I’m also grateful for all those who have shared my Tweets advertising my little blog.

Thank you so much xoxo

 

I’m so sorry!

I just wanted to say how sorry I was that I hadn’t posted in a while. I’m sorry because I feel I’ve let you down but more so, I’m sorry because life got in the way of me being able to continue writing. It’s been a real upheaval. Early in February my landlord told me it was time to sell up. I should have expected it really given that he’s ancient – he’s 80 plus years old! I guess I know it was going to happen at some point but I guess I was kidding myself that it wasn’t going to happen for a while. How foolish do I feel!! LOL. 

Anyway, on the plus side it’s made me make some decisions about my future and determined to work towards making my accomodation situation less vulnerable and more stable. I’m not sure how I’m going to do that yet but I find that once I set my stall out to achieve something I tend to find a way to achieve it. The plan comes after. I’ve no idea how this works but my little brain seems to do it quite well so I just leave it to it.

Look at me rambling all over the place.

The point was just to do a quick post to let you know that I’ve found some new accomodation and I move in early in June. I’ll need a week or two to settle in then I’ll be able to focus on writing about my experiences. 

So let’s say July. I’ll be back in July.

Until then, have fun 😀

xoxo

Richard – 1

Richard was one of my first customers and he’s supported me from the very beginning. One of the wonderful things about Richard is that he’s got me other  regular customers which increased my income (and my fun!!); however as with all upsides there are always downsides and in this case it’s quite a big one- he’s the only one of my customers that I like. You know…really, like.

Okay, okay, I admit it! I fancy him!

However, the biggest downside with Richard is that he doesn’t feel the same way about me!

It’s not that I’ve fallen in love with him or anything like that, but I know I could, if I let myself. If I let myself I could fall helplessly into his affections. A big part of me really wants to. I have to continuously remind myself he doesn’t fancy you Carla, you’re just a casual fuck to him!

And that works… most of the time.

I’m not sure if it’s his cheeky, slightly lopsided, dimpled grin or his broad shoulders which always look amazing under his white business shirt. Maybe it’s his incredibly firm arse or his smooth shaven strong jaw with the little dark brown freckle on his right cheek. Perhaps his blue eyes or his dark, brown black hair smartly cut and parted to the side, or it could be just his wonderful warm manner. It’s more likely all of those things, the whole package of Richard.

I love the way he walks. I know, that sounds stupid right? But he has a walk with just enough swagger to project confidence, but not so much as to appear cocky. The way his trousers move around his wonderful arse as he walks, well, it makes me want to bend over and bite his cheeks. I could probably write a whole paragraph on that alone!

(Actually, until I wrote all of that down I hadn’t realised just how much attention I pay to him.)

Richard’s apartment is beautiful. It’s a new-build and whilst most new-builds are totally bland looking and lacking in character, Richard has added his own flair to the place. Naturally in my line of work I see many different homes, and if I’m quite honest, brutally honest in fact, most men living on their own live in cluttered, often quite dirty homes. Not Richard! Richard has exquisite taste. His flat has been decorated with warm hues on facing walls and plush rugs with simple two or three colour designs cover the laminate floor in the open spaces of his lounge and dining room. You might expect him to be an Ikea kind of man but he’s not. He’s sourced wonderful pieces of solid wood furniture including wardrobes, cabinets, tables and chairs, and whilst none of the styles match it does all somehow work together.

Today is Friday.  It’s the first Friday of the month and it’s the day I clean Richard’s beautiful apartment. He’s never in when I get there and so I have my own key. I do 4 hours at Richard’s which includes cleaning, changing his bedding, washing and ironing.  When I arrive I always start by sorting his washing out and getting the machine going. After I’ve been working for a couple of hours or so Richard normally arrives home having finished work for the day.

Today everything is going well- the washing is done and waiting to be ironed. I’ve cleaned the kitchen and while I’m cleaning the ensuite bathroom I hear him walk in.

  • Oh hi Carla!bath
  • Richard, there you are. I’ve been busy cleaning the bottom of your bath for what seems like hours, waiting for you to come in and find me.

I’d been bent over the bath with my arse in the air waiting for him to walk in and give my
cheeks a firm slap, but it took him ages to get to me and my back had begun to ache. His cheeky, trademark grin flashes across his face and I respond accordingly.

  • Well I’ve finished now, I said with a wink. – I’ve only got the sink to clean.

Richard works in the city as a financial advisor or something and on Fridays he often spends part of his working day at home, and that’s why he has me clean his flat on Fridays!

  • You’re late home today aren’t you?
  • I am indeed. I had a lunch meeting with an important female client.

Why has he said ‘female client?’ Don’t bite Carla, don’t bite!

I bite.

  • That sounds more like a date! I said, hoping my little green monster feelings are well hidden behind my coy smile.
  • She’s just a client that brings a lot of money to the business, he says casually. – Don’t worry Carla, you know you’re the only one for me.

He flashes me that grin again and I turn away from him. Then, suddenly he’s behind me with his hands on my hips, his fingers reaching round my pelvis pressing gently but firmly into the tops of my thighs. I can smell residual traces of Chanel Allure Sport and I watch him in the mirror on the cabinet door in front of me as he places his chin on my shoulder and softly kisses my neck. He knows my weak spots!  I melt backwards into him and I reach out grabbing either side of the sink to stop my weakening knees from buckling completely. His arousal presses into me and he slides a hand round under my blouse and across my stomach. He traces his middle finger in small circles under my navel, each time moving a little further down towards the waist band of my skirt.

It feels amazing…sensual and sensitive to the point of being tickly, but amazing! It makes my stomach muscles clench and unclench repeatedly.

He lets out a purring moan in my ear.

  • Oh Richard, you teasing bastard!
  • Maybe so, he says. – But you love it!

He’s not wrong!

Before I realise what’s happened he has undone my bra and both his hands have slid underneath, lifting it up over my breasts. He cups them, tweaking each nipple between his thumb and fingers and they respond.

  • You have wonderful breasts, he says. – I love your breasts.

I’m panting.

  • Thanks, I say. – I grew them myself.

I watch him smirk at my comment in the mirror and he looks up and stares into my eyes in the reflection. His face changes reflecting his desire and passion. He wants me so bad! It makes me tingle all over with excitement and  I rub my thighs together. God I’m so wet!.

I want him.

I want to feel him inside me.

I want him now!

  • Fuck me! I say. – Fuck me hard.
  • Fuck yes!

Smoothly he reaches down, lifts up my skirt and pushes my knickers down over my thighs. I wriggle my legs making them fall to the floor and I hear his zip, belt and button being undone and his trousers drop. I push my hips backwards into him and his erection presses between my cheeks.  Reaching round I take him in my hand and guide his girth, rubbing the tip between my wet labia and over my swollen clitoris- my whole body shudders and ripples with pleasure. He takes me by the hips again and slowly pushes himself inside me. Gasping, I reach out and grab the sink again letting out a moan as my buttocks meet his cheeks. He’s fully inside me, my eyes roll as my back arches, tilting my hips so I can feel even more of him filling me up completely. He pushes my blouse up over my head and deftly removes my bra, reaching round he cups my breasts and together we find a steady rhythm.

  • Squeeze them! I demand.

He does as he is told, pulling at my nipples which makes me tighten around his throbbing manhood. I’m getting wetter.

  • Carla! You, are, amazing!

My breathing is deep and heavy. I moan. – So are you!

With each thrust he pulls back far enough so his tip is just outside me, then he plunges deep inside me again, stretching me, thrilling me, making my knees weak. Gradually he increases speed and we pound into each other, my buttocks bouncing off his hips. The pace becomes frantic, primal and animalistic and he starts grunting with each thrust.

Oh god I love this man!

I immediately block that thought from my mind.

Richard knows exactly what to do. He reaches a hand round and starts massaging between my legs, running his fingers over my wet clitoris. He vibrates his hand, shaking my excited little bud into submission. I feel the orgasm building in my belly then it rips through my body. He leaves my clit and takes me by both hips, ramming himself into me… and then he’s convulsing and moaning as he cums hard inside me.

He collapses onto me, weakened by exertion. I’m resting too, leaning against the sink with Richard’s head slumped between my shoulder blades.

  • That was outstanding, he says. – I needed that!

His comment makes me laugh. – Hell yes!  Me too.

We spend a few minutes recovering and when he’s recovered sufficiently he pulls out swiftly and shudders as his sensitive tip leaves me.  I stand up straight and catch a glimpse of my flushed face in the mirror. His cum drips from between my legs onto the floor and I see him look down behind me a cheeky grin on his face.

  • And you can clean that up you filthy bitch, he says giving my arse a quick slap. – I don’t pay you to come here and make a mess!

*

No doubt I’ll be telling you more about Richard in future posts lol.

If you like you can follow my daily fun on Twitter.

I also have a Facebook  page but I haven’t done much with that yet… suggestions welcome lol

Until next time 🙂

xoxo

 

A little bit about me…

mop-kitchen

I think before I begin posting in earnest,  an introduction is in order.

Hello, my name is Carla and I clean houses for a living. The picture here isn’t actually me at work. I had some photos taken and this one is just posing with a mop. I’ll tell you about that photography session in a future post 😉

I worked previously for a national hygiene company as a Cleaning Site Manager in a prestigious retail outlet. You’d know the name if I told you, however in the interests of discretion I think I’d better keep that to myself. I may explain why further down the line. I will also be discreet about everyone I talk about and make sure I don’t use their real names lol.

House cleaning. Domestic. I know it doesn’t sound thrilling, house cleaning, not thrilling at all. The thing is, I’ve always had other appetites and I find that through cleaning work I can satisfy them and make a living at the same time. My best friend had her own ideas on how I could satiate my appetites.

– You should become a hooker! she said laughing.

– Beth, you know that’s not me! I really don’t want to think of myself as a prostitute.

– Then what about porn? Beth asked.

We both laughed. There are aspects of porn I think I’d love but…

– Look, you know it’s not just about sex for me. It’s the seduction  I love the most. If I was a hooker or porn star, or any other sex worker for that matter, it would be sex handed on a plate. Where’s the fun in that? I love being thrilled up with the build up.

We both chuckled at my little word play, nevertheless Beth knows me all too well.

Cock tease!

She calls me that a lot, especially when we’re in a wine bar having cocktails bought for us by some NAC or other. A NAC is a Not-A-Chance guy, just so you know, it’s our code name for those try hard chancers who don’t know when to back off… and there are plenty of those in the city vino bars. Nevertheless, girls are made to tease; lads attempt to please. Well that’s how I see it lol.

Anyway I’ve digressed- the point is I’ve never wanted to and still don’t want to be a sex worker of any form because the thought doesn’t thrill me enough. So house cleaning it is. Yes I know, I know… what’s the connection between cleaning houses and my sexual desires? I am coming to that, I promise…

I’ve been doing it for several years now after the firm I worked for went bust leaving me high and dry. A couple of associates of mine from a rival firm had started a cleaning business after they were made redundant, and they suggested I do the same as there was room for everyone in the market place. Well, I started thinking about it and the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a brilliant idea. Of course, my associates had no idea that I had other interests and that I figured this would tie in nicely with those.

Anyway, that’s a little bit about me. The only question remaining is where do I start? In other words who do I write about first. As I’ve said, I will have to change names in the interests of discretion. This is beginning to sound like some kind of psychology text where the case study names are changed! Nevertheless, I’m sure you understand why discretion might be important, and if not,then you will!

If you like you can follow my daily fun on Twitter.

I also have a Facebook  page but I haven’t done much with that yet… suggestions welcome lol

Until next time 🙂

xoxo