Maid for Pleasure
Carol had texted me: Hun, can I pop round? I’ve got some news.
Carol had texted me: Hun, can I pop round? I’ve got some news.
Most unusual, she’d usually just pitch up on my doorstep, but I said yes and she was sitting at the table having coffee half an hour later.
She came straight to the point. “You know I told you I’d been back in touch with a couple from our days when we were messing around with others?” I nodded. “Well, we went and had a drink with them the other night just to see how we all felt about things now. It must be fifteen years since we’d seen them and I’m not sure why we kept in touch really. They were the only ones who did although we weren’t particularly close, but then we weren’t with any of them. I suppose that sort of situation doesn’t lend itself to getting too friendly, too much chance of jealous feelings erupting. I know other groups who didn’t see it that way but ours was always a bit arm's length. Weird considering. Anyway, that’s beside the point. We went and had this drink and hit it off well enough. Cut a long story short, they’re coming round Saturday night for some fun. Do you want to join us?”
“Wow. I thought you’d said you weren’t keen on this swopping?”
“Well, no that’s too strong, I enjoyed it, of course I did, and especially as I could see how much Charlie loved it, it was just that I could live without it. So what do you think? Join us?”
“Er, well, yes, but….” I was hesitant. Why I’m not sure. Yes I am. I need to admit it. It meant being in close proximity to a man in a sexual environment. A man I didn’t know. A world away from Charles or Craig.
“I’d love to but I can’t cope yet. Not going with a stranger. I need to experience more in a safe way. I’ve said, I might be able to cope with Charlie but I couldn’t just pitch up and let any stranger fuck me.”
“Hun, I know. I’ve explained this to them. They, or at least he, are happy to accept you’re off limits. You could play with her. See how you feel about seeing his cock. Watch us fuck.”
This was so tempting. “Carol! It’s weird. I know we’ve done some sexy things but I can’t get my head around the idea of you letting another man fuck you.”
“Huh, why? Too old am I? Ugly old pensioner?” She’d said it with humour; I knew she was goading me.
“Hardly. You're a shoo-in for Glamorous Granny but it’s just, oh I don’t know. It’s weird.” It was. I couldn’t put it into words. It just seemed out of character.
“Anyway no. I’d love to do it but feel I’d be, oh what? A wallflower? Getting in the way?”
“Hun, you’d never get in the way but look, I’m not going to pressure you. Tell you what, how about you come round this Saturday, just the three of us. I’ll see if Charlie fancies a maid evening and we’ll see how you can cope with him up close and personal. If he’s acting the maid he’ll only do what he’s told so you’d have total control.”
She didn’t need to spell it out. She was happy to let her husband fuck me. Whether the reverse was true was very much up for debate, but I had to overcome this thing. In my mind, I so longed to do so many things with men. This physiological barrier was stupid.
“Okay. Sounds like a plan! Please.”
“It’s a date then Hun. I’ll put Gary and Wendy off for a week so you have the option still if you want it.”
I went over to her and hugged her. “You are so special, Carol. I love you so much.” I gave her a kiss on the lips which she responded to, but it didn’t develop. We chatted for a while longer and then she left. Later that evening. I got a text.
All arranged. See you at 7 Sat. Charlie is happy being a maid! You too?
I texted back
Great. See u then. Yes, I’ll come in my outfit.
The outfit, uniform, whatever you want to call it, was fun. It showed my legs off well, especially in the Fishnet stockings which accompanied it.
The thought of driving over, dressed like that, was a turn-on but even more so because I had left the car parked in the road and would have to run the gauntlet of the curtain twitchers. When I’d started on this journey the thought of neighbours discovering my secret terrified me. Now I couldn’t give a damn.
I walked to the car, or rather sauntered. I wanted to give anyone watching plenty of opportunities to spot me. Whether anyone did time will tell! Knowing glances and whispered conversations will be telltale signs!
Nothing of note happened on the drive, the pavements were empty, so no one to peer into the car.
I was on heat and a little frustrated by the time I arrived, wondering what the evening would bring. How far I’d be able to go in letting Charles touch me
I rang the bell. The door opened. Charles. Dressed in the maid’s outfit they had shown me previously. Two things surprised me. That Charles had very shapely legs was one. The other was that I found the sight of this older man dressed as a French maid incredibly horny. My greatest fear had been that I’d burst out laughing when I saw him but nothing was further from my mind. I can only put it down to this deviant streak I have. How the more debased the scene, the randier I feel.
He welcomed me with a peck on the cheek and led me into the lounge.
“My look at you,” exclaimed Carol, “deliciously appetising. Are you up for this?” I wasn’t actually sure what ‘this’ was, but what the heck, I was feeling randy and knew with these two I could always say no, so replied, “Indeed. Bring it on”
“Miss Rose is desperate to show her domestic skills before we start the sex and I need a pee, so follow me, girls.”
I could see this was going to be a surreal evening. Carol referring to Charles under his non de plum and so matter of factly talking about having sex, who with whom, I wasn’t sure, was an interesting start.
We followed Carol upstairs, her leading, Charles, sorry Miss Rose, next and me behind him-her. I mention it because following him up the stairs when he was wearing such a short skirt gave me a super view of his legs, stockings and knickers. A view even an hour ago I would not have thought capable of making my libido soar. In fact, I would have suggested it more likely to make it instantly wither. I didn’t understand it at the time and still don’t, sitting here typing. He did-does-have good legs and there would be many women who would gladly swop theirs for his, but come on, he’s a man. He’s in his mid-sixties and he’s not exactly male model material. So why the libido surge? More for a session with my psychiatrist. (No I don’t have one). For now, I’d just stare at his lacy knicker encased bottom and enjoy the view. It also gave me an inkling as to why you guys enjoy a peek up a skirt!
Carol reached the top of the stairs and headed for her bedroom. Hardly a surprise it wasn’t the bathroom, but I had been expecting us to use Charles/Rose’s man cave. (I’ll refer to him as Rose, it’s easier).
In the bedroom, Carol turned her back on Rose. “Unzip me.” He did as instructed and pushed the simple black dress off her shoulders. It fell to the floor and she stepped away from it leaving her maid to pick it up and fold it neatly on the bed. Carol was wearing a white bra, lacy white knickers and stockings. And she looked stunning. If I can look half as glamorous in fifteen years or so I’ll be more than happy. She turned and faced us. “Here I think. Take some photos Rose I’m sure Tracy will want evidence for her devoted followers.” With that, she opened her legs and peed. There. In her beloved bedroom. Her boudoir as she called it. Her woman cave. (Charles’s use of the bedroom always struck me as ‘by permission’). The flow seemed endless. Seeing her peeing made me so hot I was tempted to let go myself, but remembered I was supposed to be a servant too. At least I supposed I was. Carol hadn’t actually said anything. Was I going to be tasked with cleaning up? If so I wasn’t sure role playing was for me!
She finished. “Get me a tissue,” she directed Rose. She pulled her knickers aside.
“Wipe me.” He dutifully did.
“Get me out some dry knickers.”
“Put them on me.”
“Now the skirt.”
“Now clean up this mess before it stains. We’ll be downstairs. Come, Tracy, let’s have a drink.”
She led the way back to the living room leaving the hapless Rose to shampoo the rug.
She poured me a glass of wine. “Could be your last wine for tonight, Hun.”
“You’ve run out of wine?” I asked incredulously. An unknown circumstance in their house.
“No, just that we have plans for you to taste something different.”
“Gin? Vodka? Brandy?” I asked with an innocent look. I had a shrewd idea I was wrong, but bet I knew the correct answer.
“Piss darling. Gallons of pee. We’ve been hoarding it. Given you’re supposed to be a servant too, go and open the refrigerator and bring the decanter.”
Weirder and weirder said Alice and I did begin to think I’d fallen down a rabbit hole. I went to the fridge and there was a decanter full of a liquid which certainly looked like pee. I smelt it and detected the aroma, not much, but then it was cold. I took it back to Carol.
“Good. Do you like it chilled or prefer it at source temperature?” I laughed. This was more than bizarre. “I’ve no idea. I’ve only ever drunk it straight out of me-or Charles. Or Jane. Or Mary.” It came as a shock that I’d actually tasted so many.
“Well let’s find out. She poured a fresh glass and handed it to me. I didn’t hesitate. The very notion of drinking pee is a huge turn-on. I always feel as if as fast as I’m drinking it, it’s pouring out of me as love juice. That glass was no exception. Whether it was Charles’s or Carol’s or a mixture I had no idea and didn’t care. It was degenerate. Perverted. Delicious. I emptied the glass.
“So? Is it better cold?”
“It’s okay, but I love it warm.”
“In that case, we’d better get Rose down and get you a refill.” She called upstairs for Rose and he dutifully appeared. “Our guest requires a warm glass of your piss. Oblige her. Hold out your glass Hun.”
I did as told. The sheer pervertedness of this had brought me to the boil. I held out my glass. Rose hoisted up his short skirt and the multilayered petticoat underneath, pulled the frilly knickers aside and pulled out his cock. A close encounter of the cock kind! I was now closer to an exposed cock than I had been since my problem began. I’d been a couple of feet away when I’d drunk directly from it a few weeks previously but now it was inches from me. If I’d wanted to I could have reached out and touched it. Wanked it. Taken it in my mouth. But I didn’t. I was laughing as I watched him pee into the glass. Not because I found it funny. It was a nervous laugh, an unaccountable reaction to this whole deviate episode. The glass quickly filled. Rose still had some left so picked up my glass that had some wine in it and emptied himself into that.
He passed me the glass and started wanking himself. He hadn’t moved back so I was now only inches away from a cock being stimulated. I took a large gulp of the wine cocktail. Not that my mind was on it but it didn’t taste at all bad. Where my mind was, was focused on that cock. Rose had a hand encircling it. As I’ve said it wasn’t huge and his hand easily encompassed it. He would pull his foreskin right back as his hand travelled to his member’s base and then push it forward again to cover his helmet. I was transfixed. It was hardly the first time I’d watched a man wank, but it was certainly the first time I’d watched one dressed as a French maid do it. Whatever the reason, I stared and whilst doing so pulled my own knickers aside and started fingering myself. I was wet. Three fingers slid in without difficulty. My mind flashed back to Mary forcing her tiny fist into me. More juice producing memories. I was still hypnotised by Rose’s hand traversing his cock and my fingers were maintaining a rhythm too.
The maid’s eyes were as glued to my cunt as mine were to his cock and our arrival at our destination looked likely to coincide. But he beat me to it. I’d made a decision in those last few seconds. Rather than finishing myself off, as Rose spurted cum, I’d lean forward, grab his cock and aim the semen into my mouth. I so desperately wanted to do that, but at the last instant couldn’t. I just couldn’t touch it. It was too late for Rose to stop his explosion and a stream of cum erupted. It sprayed over my tit. It triggered a need. A need to taste it. I went to scoop it up, but Carol stopped me. “Let’s have a photo for posterity first.” I smiled inanely at the camera. She took the shot. “Okay, off you go.” With no message necessary from my brain, my fingers gathered what they could. Like a starving peasant, they eagerly scraped off every minute molecule to be sucked down.
Rose didn’t back away, he just stood there, milking his cock, extracting every remaining drop. Letting it drip off his cock onto my outfit. I was transfixed. Emotions pulling me in totally opposing directions.
Look, there’s this cock, you’re desperate to suck it. It belongs to Charles. He’s not going to hurt you. Grab it, suck it. Lick it. You know you’re desperate to.
And yet the other side argued back.
Don’t be a fool. Don’t be misled, he’s a man. He only regards you as a chattel. Forget him. You’re enjoying sex with women. Don’t spoil things.
I was so close. So close to overcoming this phobia. Yet something was there blocking it still. I couldn’t touch him. Not his cock. But I told myself, willed, cajoled, ordered myself. Make contact. I reached forward and touched a nylon encased leg. It wasn’t a man’s leg. It was feminine. Covered in nylon. My hand went up from knee to stocking top. A feeling exactly as I’d experienced with Mary a few short days ago. The tactile sensation triggering, fooling, my mind into believing this was not male. Not aggressive. Not manipulative. This was a body I could enjoy. Savour. Devour even! My hand followed his suspender. Soaking up the lacy feel of the strap as it progressed closer to what was so obviously not feminine. Rose, bless him, must have realised the internal struggle that was going on in my mind. He didn’t move. He allowed me the time to progress as I needed. Not that that thought entered my head at the time. I’d closed down rational thinking. Stopped my memories from ordering my brain to issue orders to my hand to withdraw. My fingers were now touching the hem of his knickers where the suspender disappeared. On the opposite leg to where Rose had extracted his cock and spewed his semen. I registered that it was growing again. His libido for a man in his sixties seemed incredible. Perhaps his years of little activity meant it was all stored, pent up, ready to be unleashed now, on this perverted friend of his wife. Whatever the reason I now had a hand about to disappear into frilly, ultra feminine knickers worn by a man whose cock was fast expanding. Yet I didn’t stop. Didn’t freak out. Didn’t scream for help. My hand disappeared from view. My fingers inched their way in. They touched his balls. The touch made his cock twitch. It made me leak. Leak, not run for the hills screaming ‘bastard!’ I cupped his balls gently in my hand.
Up to that point, my eyes had been firmly glued to watching the progress of my hand. I’d tried to shut out any external influence, fearful it would shatter the moment and reinforce my man fear. But now I risked it. I looked up at Rose. His expression. How do I describe his expression? I can’t, but it said to me Take your time. I’m loving it, but this is your moment. Do what you will as slowly as you wish. Quite an expression!
Time had stood still. I had no idea how long I was taking. I had no idea where Carol was or what she was doing.
That look of Rose’s though gave me the impetus to grab his knickers with both hands and pull them down. Down to his knees, his ankles. His cock had recovered fully. Free from the confines of the knickers it sprang to attention. The tip less than a dozen inches from my face. My mouth. I had my hands on his hips. I had choices. To open my mouth, pull his hips in and fill my mouth with cock. Or I could grasp it in one hand, or two, and wank it. Watch it be manipulated. By me!
I couldn’t do the former. Even with the progress made the memories of the last time a cock had entered my mouth, still too vivid. Too painful. But I could touch it! I did touch it! Tentatively as if it might bite or give me a shock. It did neither. My hand closed around it. It was hard again. Fleetingly I wondered if Rose had taken a double dose of viagra. I admired it. From those few inches distance. I looked into Rose’s eyes again. The expression had changed. It was more lustful. More pleading. Wank me! It wasn’t just the eyes saying that. Rose was actually saying the words. They penetrated my consciousness. “Wank me Tracy. Hard, or as gentle as you like.”
He was being kind. He couldn’t know how brave he was being too. I’d made a vow to myself almost three years ago. The next cock I ever handled I’d rip from its owner's body.
Times had changed! The thought never entered my head. I just set about seeing if I could wank Rose to completion, or if at some point I was going to lose control.
The former! It took a while. There could have been multiple reasons. Perhaps my technique was as rusty as a rivet on the Titanic. Or perhaps I wanted to prolong it as long as possible to savour the sensation. Or perhaps Rose was having difficulty coming again so soon. Probably a combination of all three. Eventually, the member in my hand twitched and its owner let out a long “Oh yessss!” There was hardly any semen but a few drops oozed out. I should have sucked him dry. Wanted to suck him dry. But couldn’t. I did though gather those drops on my finger direct from his helmet.
The most surprising element of that encounter was my lack of sexual gratification. I’d been expecting floods of juice and an overriding need to finger myself off or get Carol to. Neither was needed. Not then. I realised I was exhausted. The mental strain of what I’d done had been enormous. Like the immediate aftermath of an exam. You’re elated you’ve finished. You answered all the questions. Correctly you think. Let’s party! But the party bit doesn’t kick in immediately. The thank god that’s over and I got through it is the initial response. That’s where I was.
The party would kick off later!
My apologies if this blog is a bit introverted, less titillating than usual, but this is my journey and I feel I need to document it fully. I can assure you what followed has a high kink rating!
