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Cleaning

By: walkthetracks



It happened just last week, but I can't get it off my mind. I just moved into a new place last Friday so I took a day off work to finish cleaning my old apartment, just to make sure I got my full deposit back. I never would have guessed it would be an amazing erotic experience. I arrived around ten with my hair in a ponytail, no makeup, wearing a baggy pair of gray sweatpants, and a plain white tee shirt. I didn't really have that much to do; all the furniture was out and most of the cleaning was done already. I just wanted to do the refrigerator, oven, cupboards, and steam clean the light beige carpet in the hall and living room. I made quick work of the kitchen and started in on the carpeting. The steam cleaner is one of those small home units that I borrowed from my Mom, much like an vacuum cleaner; after a bit, it got heavy -- and I got hot. 

To cool off, I slipped off my sweatpants. I didn't think anything of it, and finished the rugs. While I was checking the other rooms, making sure I didn't forget anything, I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror. My face was flushed, my hair had started to fall out of the ponytail, and a few strands hung down by my cheeks. I could barely see my panties peeking out from under my tee shirt. I was wearing a pair of gray cotton panties, nothing special or attractive, but that's what caught my eye. It must have been just the right angle, because I looked, to myself, well, sexy. 

Just thinking about it made my nipples grow. My breasts are small, only a B-cup; my areolas are also small, about the size of a quarter, and brown, but my nipples, when hard, are over a quarter-inch. I pulled the tee shirt up a bit, uncovering my navel and my left breast, and there I stood, in the bathroom, adoring myself in the mirror, slim waist, flat stomach, gray panties, erect nipples. I could feel a surge deep inside me, a rush of sensuality, the ensuing heat between my legs. 

In the mirror, I watched one of my hands make a slow, purposeful trip up my stomach and brush against my left nipple. The sensation rolled down my spine. I circled my nipple with a single finger. Then the other hand joined, giving equal attention to the other nipple. It had been a while since I had last pleasured myself, but I could sense the foundation of an orgasm being laid by my gentle self-caresses. I took my breasts in my hands and squeezed them, rolling my hard nipples between my thumb and forefinger. I shuddered as I came, the orgasm pitched within me and I felt a warm secretion between my legs. I put one foot up on the counter and pushed my hips forward. As I hoped, expected, on the crotch of my panties, a diamond-shaped dark spot was growing and elongating toward my ass. 

I put my foot back on the floor and slowly pulled the tee shirt off, stopping with my arms bent over my head to admire my firm, round breasts, and long dark nipples. I wanted someone to be licking them, sucking them, but I could only look at them in the mirror, seeing myself as a lover would see me, ready, which added to my excitement. I tossed the shirt to the floor and began to caress my breasts again, this time more robustly, pinching and twisting my nipples. I could feel another orgasm cresting. The wetness in my panties was becoming uncomfortable, so I removed them as well, quite matter-of-factly. I lifted my foot once again onto the counter. This was my first glimpse of my pussy, smoothly shaven only the day before. I touched the very tip of my clitoris, alight with excitement, and slowly spread my swollen labia. 

My fingers felt a tad cooler on my pussy than on my breasts, the chill added voluminously to my titillation. My orgasm was almost at hand, needing only a small jolt to arrive. I placed my forefinger upon my clit rubbed back and forth slowly. I felt the rush again, the quiver from within; I bent forward to get a better look at my pussy, watching myself cum, watching the trickle of opaque white liquid run down toward my ass. 

My excitement level was almost unbearable. I needed something in me, a vibrator, fingers, anything to stretch out my constricting pussy. I was naked and horny in an empty house, without even a bed to lie down on to finish myself off. I felt suddenly, inexplicably desperate. I did not want to lose this amazing feeling, so I took the few steps into my empty bedroom. I knelt down on the floor and then laid back. The sexual memories of that bedroom flashed in my mind, the place where I was first with another girl, a place where I've masturbated many, many times. It was as if I was watching movie clips of my sex life in my mind: my fingers in my pussy, a dildo, Shelly, my first, slipping my panties off and tonguing my dripping cunt, tasting her as she came, her cum thick like cottage cheese on his lips and chin. These memories flooded my mind; all the while I rubbed my tits with one hand and the exterior of my smooth pussy with the other. I could feel one more cum beginning to pulsate, announcing its intention. 

I spread my pussy lips and slowly sunk in two fingers. I was already so wet that two slipped in easily. I began to pump them in and out; I want someone here, perhaps a strange girl I meet, sharing this with me; I don't even know her name. I want to smell the mixture of sweat and perfume, and the heat of her breath, like an elixir to me, as she whispers dirty talk in my ear. I want her to use the word cunt, and how she is fingering my cunt: Oh, I want to cum! I lay on the floor of my old bedroom, slamming my fingers in and out of my pussy, the word "cunt" echoes in my head; so I say it, aloud, to myself, and to my fantasy stranger; and I cum again, the warm stickiness on my fingers as my pussy tightens around them. 

When the orgasm has subsided, my excitement has not. I can't stop thinking of this room and my experiments. One thing, however, will not leave my mind, one thing I have not done. As I lay on the floor, I decide to try one last experiment. I have heard about doing it, thought about it, talked about doing it, but I have never done it: that is, peed as part of sex. Shelly wanted me to try it, yet I couldn't. But in that room, alone, horny, for the last time, I did it. I spread my legs and lifted my ass off the floor and held my up my hips. I trembled from excitement. It took a moment, but I started to pee. What a feeling of unbelievable freedom. My own urine streamed out of me in a long arching trajectory across the room. I could only watch the pale flow and listen to it splattering on the carpet. When I was finished, it took only minimal touch to my clitoris for one final orgasm, one last one in this room, my nipples so hard they hurt, my body on fire, a fitting denouement.

Cleaning



He came home to find me all hot and sweaty. I was in the kitchen I'd been cleaning the kitchen for about two hours. I had cleaned the stove and done three loads of dishes. I'd cleaned the counters and in the cabinets. I'd swept and mopped the floor. I was just opening a bottle of Shiner. After all that work I needed a drink. I turned to face the door as I heard it open. I went to him and gave him a kiss. I reached to wrap my arms around his neck. He took one look around me and wondered what had gotten into me. "Who is this woman, what have you done to my wife?" he asked.

I took a kitchen towel and turned the faucet on. I made it damp with cold water. Then I wiped my face and throat off. "It's still me" I replied laughing. It needed to be done.

I slipped out of my shirt and shorts, down to just my panties. I tossed my clothes in the hamper. He got out of his work clothes and slipped into a pair of shorts. We sat down on the couch and he talked about his day.

I got the VCR remote and hit play. A hot porn started playing on tv. A man had a woman on all fours and was giving her a good pounding. Then another couple could be seen in the background. The second guy was fucking the other girl in the ass. It was a hot scene. He turned to me and smiled "Oh this is what you were doing this morning, huh?" I shrugged and gave him my innocent precious little girl smile. He just shook his finger at me. He had his hand in his lap and was stroking his already hard cock. "You want some of this, sweetie?"

I grinned and hopped up from the couch and went to the bedroom. I knew he was hot on my tail. I laid out in bed with my legs spread. I had my hand covering my pussy. Then I spread my lips as he walked in the bedroom door. He loves the sight of my pretty pink pussy. It was already wet and glistening. He crawled into bed and embraced me in a close warm hug. He held me and then he kissed me. I could feel his tongue in my mouth and decided to let mine play tag with his.

We broke our hot kiss and he licked his fingers. He rubbed the pad of this thumb over my clit. He stroked it and caressed it. He was like a pearl diver caressing my sensitive pearl. He pinched it and rubbed it in small gentle circles. It made me squirm and squeal. Then he got his thumb wet and slipped it inside my wet sex. I gasped and brought my hand down to stroke my clit. He pulled out his thumb and slid two of his other fingers inside of me. I was so wet that I could hear them as he stroked them in and out of my sex like pistons in an engine. I felt my muscles grab hold of him as I started to cum. "Oh yeah, show me what a sexy little slut I married", he purred into my ear.

His voice made me tremble and shudder. I can feel my juices just begin to pour over his hand and then out underneath my ass in a small puddle. I flush red as I hear his fingers slide in and out of my juicy sex. He grinds them in me harder and harder and it turns me on even more. I am cumming so hard I kiss him deeply as I twitch and slowly come down from the high that I was on.

I brushed my hand over his pelvis and let it rest on his hard cock. He spread his legs and let me start to jack him off. I got on my hands and knees straddling his leg. I ground my sex against it, playfully licking my toungue over the tip of his cock. I was so hot and horny for him that I didn't suck his cock for very long. Just enough to get it nice and slick for my wet pussy.

Then I stood up and straddled him. I had my hips hovering just above the tip of his cock. I rocked letting it rub the lips of my sex up and down. And then in one smooth motion with my hand around the base of his cock, I guided myself down on it, groaning with satisfaction. I was so wet he groaned as he felt my velvet purse clamp around him. His hips bucking upward met my downward strokes. It had been a few days since we'd done anything so we fucked each other like bunnies.

I slowed down and savored each stroke. My hand reached down between my legs and stroked my clit again. I closed my eyes and rocked back. The tingling sensation working its way through me as I orgasmed again. He brought his hands up to squeeze my breasts and pinch and pull at my nipples. That just made me orgasm more and clamp down on his cock harder. I knew at this point he could probably feel my cum running down his balls. He had that "just fixing to" look on his face. So I fucked him with fast short strokes. I love it when he just goes off inside of me. And he let out a loud groan and I knew he'd lost it. Feeling him cum inside me only intensified my orgasm even more. For a moment I just looked down at him smiling. He laughed and pushed me off of him and then wrapped an arm around me pulling me close. We fell asleep in each others arms. 



Cleaning Annie's Creampies



Annie was getting dressed and I was depressed. My beautiful 50-year-old athletic blonde wife was dressing to the hilt for a night out with the girls, slipping into a tiny white halter top, short black skirt, no nylons, and high-heeled shoes that muscled up her already sleek, muscular legs when she walked. She looked gorgeous as I watched her put on her makeup. I sat on the bed, dejected.

	"Please, Annie, please don't, not again," I said. "I can't take it any more."

	Annie put down her make up and spun around to face me, walking up to me and pinching my face in her hand, her face inches from mine.

	"We've been through this before, darling," she growled. "I need cock, BIG cock, and you don't fit the bill. You just shut up and wait for me, and get that tongue of yours ready. That and your wallet are the only things I really need from you."

	Tears welled in my eyes as I looked at her imploringly. She laughed derisively and slapped me across the face, knocking me back onto the bed. She hiked up her short skirt to expose her wickedly hairy cunt and straddled my chest, inching her way up.

	"Speaking of tongue, get me ready," she growled, settling her wet pussy onto my face. "This is all the foreplay I'll need, I want to get fucked fast and hard tonight."

	She ground her cunt onto my face, not so much me eating her but her mashing my mouth and nose in her insatiable cunt, her clit banging off my chin as she brutally rubbed her gash back and forth over my soaking wet face. Her muscular thighs tightened around my cheeks as she ground out a quick, drenching orgasm. She rolled to her side and spread her long legs, pointing to her juices that smeared her beautiful thighs.

	"Lick that shit off my legs, I don't want to be messy - yet!" she hissed, grabbing my ears and directing my mouth to her wet legs.

	I licked and swallowed her thick girl juices from her muscular legs as she rubbed her clit with one hand, snapping out another quick 'gasm with a hunching of her hips and a punishing locking of her muscular thighs around my ears. I saw stars as she scissored me, the pressure in my face mounting as her tireless thighs crushed my head. I was nearly passing out by the time she released me and stood to put the rest of her makeup on.

	"See ya in a few hours, hubby darling," she said sarcastically. "We're going out to dinner first, me and the girls. As usual, I'll be bringing you home desert!"

	The hours wore on as I tried to take my mind off what would happen soon. I watched TV on the couch and then wandered to bed to try and sleep. The clock rolled over, hour after hour, until 4 a.m. when Annie finally drove in. She walked in the bedroom where I lay whimpering in the dim light from the hallway light and instantly the room filled with the stench of sex and booze and smoke.

	She stood in the doorway, framed by the light, her hair messy, clothes wrinkled. From below the hem of her short skirt, I saw drying clumps of fluid.

	"Time to share me, short cock," she growled, slipping out of her clothes to stand only in high heels, her legs sleek and shiny with sweat the residue of her night's activities.

	She climbed on my face and squatted on her heels, her pussy open and wide, a thick ring of cum plugging the gaping hole, her pussy lips red, puffy and raw. She pulled the lips aside and groaned as a massive stream of other men's cum poured out of her open hole and dropped wetly to my face. I closed my lips in protest and the fluid sheeted over my cheeks and chin, bubbling up to my eyes. Annie looked down, annoyed.

	"Open that fucking mouth, you turd," she spat. "Open it and eat the cum from my cunt!"

	I obeyed, opening wide, the spunk from my face slipping inside, mixing with another lava flow of cream from Annie's rapacious snatch, one gob after the other filling my mouth, forcing me to swallow it all as she kneaded her stomach, forcing out every foul, salty ounce of spew.

	"Goddam, there's a lot tonight, huh?" she giggled. "Fuck, did I get laid tonight...there was a group of 10 guys there at the bar tonight, a bachelor party, and the whore who was supposed to show up and do them didn't, so me, Lizzy and Sue took over. We all got laid, but I insisted that they ALL cum in me when they were ready to blow, said I had creampie lovin', short-cocked husband at home waiting to eat me clean!"

	Annie came as she talked, getting hotter and hotter as she always did, regaling me with the foul details of how she came to have so much cum in her twat. The stuff continued to flow, endlessly, in undulating globs as she pulsated and milked her cunt, forcing the deep stuff to the fore where it oozed with plopping sounds to my face. I was choking in cum, the stuff coating me from forehead to neck, and still more flowed out.

	"We lost count after awhile, but I know all the guys came at least twice, some of the really young studs made it three or four times," she growled, mashing her soaking wet cunt to my face now, sealing her hole over my mouth where the sperm river continued to run unabated down my throat, the salty tang of it burning the back of my throat painfully. "You can't believe the size of these guys' dicks, wasn't one under 8 inches,  and the biggest guy, a black muscular dude, was 14 inches! Can you fucking believe it...mmmm, I think you're getting some of his stuff now, it filled me pretty deeply! Yeah, here it is, I feel it leaking out...fuck, this is so hot! Eat my cum! Eat THEIR CUM FROM MY CUNT!!!"	

	I ate, chewed, swallowed, licked and sucked in an effort to stop the flow, but still it came. I was trying to do the quick math in my head when Annie read my mind.

	"Yeah, must've taken 30 loads in my pussy," she hissed, humping my face, her liquid quim gliding over my cum-stained mouth and nose and cheeks and chin like a clam slipping around a buttered sauté pan. "And that doesn't count the five or so I took in my fucking ASS!"

	I groaned. Eating creampies from my wife was one thing, I'd gotten used to it.

	"Fudgepie time, baby," she hissed, spinning around to face my feet, extending her legs to capture my head in her muscular thighs, locking her ankles and squeezing her scissors on me painfully, my mouth at her rosebud asshole. "EAT UP!"

	She grunted and farted out a massive wad of spunk that blasted directly into my mouth and down my throat, the funky spunkshake leaving a bitter, nutty flavor in my mouth, the otherwise clean sperm tainted by the oils from Annie's asshole. The woman loved anal sex, especially when I was at the end of the spunk's final journey. I ate the bitter butt brew and swallowed hard, hoping it would end. By the time she unlatched her scissoring thighs from my trapped head, her entire ass, from the top of her butt crack to the bottom and all around the sweet, muscled orbs of her ass halves, were coated with sperm. She rolled off me and lay on her belly, absentmindedly humping the sheets.

	"Lick that shit off my ass," she said calmly, and I dove in, lapping and slurping the leftover cream that coated her mounded rump as it stuck in the air.

	I finished and rolled to my back, exhausted, my face a mess of dried and wet cum. I was still swallowing the stuff when she rolled over to face me, grabbing my stiff cock.

	"If you come in 30 seconds, I let you sleep," she hissed, rapidly stroking my tiny cock. "If this pathetic nub of  prick takes longer to cum, we're having a snowball fight!"

	I strained to cum within 30 seconds but Annie's hand was purposely too tight. 31 seconds later, she eased her grip and my nuts knotted in release. She bent her head to my spurting prick and took my load, a rather sizeable one since Annie only lets me come once a week. Her whole mouth swallowed my cock, it's so small, and she came up smiling when she finished, her cheeks bloated and full.	

	"Please, Annie, don't, enough's enough," I protested, trying to scoot off the bed.

	She glared at me angrily and slipped her hand from my prick to my nuts, squeezing hard. I screamed in pain and she smiled, her face hovering over mine, cheeks bulging. I opened my mouth with a resigned sigh and she opened hers, a thick dollop of cum blopping out of her lips and into my mouth. She latched her lips to mine and her tongue lanced into the cream inside, swirling and twirling before she sucked it out again and shot it, forcefully, back into my mouth. Back and forth the seed went until Annie's tongue whipped it into a frothy, messy mix of spit and spew, the load leaking out onto both our faces. Annie came; she always came doing this without being touched. She finished and pulled away from my face, strings of cum hanging between us. She laughed and stood up to go to the bathroom, pointing to several gobs of old cum that dotted the bedsheet and had leaked out of her over the last hour of my sucking the stuff from her.

	"Missed a spot...here...there...over there...eat it.." she growled, directing my mouth to various spots that I had to suck up by holding the back of my head, ramming my face in the cold, clammy goop until it too was all gone.

	She strode to the bathroom, her ass and legs shiny with old spunk and my spit.

	"Can't wait for next weekend," she hissed, closing the door. "I hear there's another bachelor party at that place...bigger than the one tonight!"

	She sang to herself as she showered and I cried myself to sleep.



Cleaning Cans and Bottles Topless



Bag lady earns more money on bottles and cans on Earth Day than she ever imagined she would.

Walking with her head down and avoiding eye contact while trying to remain inconspicuously anonymous, the bag lady pushed a wobbly wheeled shopping cart down the alleyway. With the noisy cart heralding her approach from one hundred yards away, as if moving a canon to a frontal position on a battlefield from the rear, the sound of the noisy wheel echoed louder against the brick buildings in the enclosed alley. Temporarily belonging to her, her cart until someone else commandeered it or until it was reclaimed by the store and returned, she confiscated the shopping cart from the local supermarket to carry her bottles and cans while wandering the dirty, city streets of downtown Harrisburg.

Never knowing what she'd find, every day was as much of a crapshoot as it was a new adventure. Alleviating some of the boredom of picking up bottles and cans, scratch tickets were her favorite things to pickup and double check. With someone thinking that they were a loser, nearly every day she found a winner. Mostly finding two dollar winners and free tickets, sometimes finding five, ten, and twenty dollar winners, a couple of times she found a one-hundred-dollar scratch ticket winner.

With her in the role of head scavenger, every day was a treasure hunt. She hoped to make her day by finding a lost treasure, something more of monetary a value than of intrinsic value and something worth much more than 5 cents for a bottle or for a can. She always hoped that the city streets would cough her up something really good to make her constant surveillance of the dirty ground worth her while. Whatever she found, instead of thinking in terms of dollars and cents, she thought more in terms of cans and bottles. Finding something worth ten dollars was better than expending the time, effort, and energy necessary to collect and redeem 200 cans and bottles.

Always imagining she'd find gold jewelry, a missing earring, a lost chain, a gold charm, or a dropped pendant, bracelet, or ring that a woman dropped when emerging from one of the clubs and too drunk on alcohol or too high on drugs to notice, she's found gold jewelry before. When she does find something of value, something worth much more than five cents, she sells her find to a jeweler for the gold content. With the price of gold hanging around sixteen hundred dollars and ounce and silver around thirty dollars an ounce, it doesn't take much gram weight to make her day and her surveillance worthwhile. Only and unfortunately, most of the jewelry she finds is cheap, stainless steel and nickel alloy costume jewelry from China.

Hoping beyond hope in the way of hoping to win the lottery when she doesn't even play, she always hopes to find a wad of cash, a thick stack of hundreds worth thousands of dollars misplaced by a drug dealer, something she's yet to find. She's always looking to find that hidden or forgotten briefcase filled with cash and left behind before the owner can retrieve it. Whenever she finds a gun or a knife, and she's found more than a few, she never touches it for fear that it's part of a crime scene. Not wanting to get involved in a felony investigation for fear of gang retaliation, and not wanting to waste her time to go to police headquarters to fill out paperwork, she'd rather use her time collecting bottles and cans for food enough to feed herself. When she does come upon a weapon, she flags down a passing patrol car or tells a passing cop patrolling the neighborhood where to find it. If the detectives need to question her, they know where to find her.

Nonetheless, still looking for a little while always hoping for more, she's content in finding enough bottles and cans to feed herself. In the way of hitting her own personal street lottery, finding anything else than bottles and cans is an unexpected bonus. Finding enough bottles and cans gives her the money she needs to buy the food she requires to survive for another day, albeit just barely. Been there and done that, finding enough bottles and cans for food gives her a sense of self-satisfaction that she's able to support herself and provide for herself without having to work at a job or being dependent upon the kind, generosity of a man who'd use her as a household slave for chores, to run errands, and for sex.

Yet, part of experiences of living on the dangerous city streets, after what happened to her in just one day, she's always careful and mindful of all those lowlife, small time criminals around her. If only they knew what she goes through in the course of a day, maybe they'd feel bad enough for her to leave her alone but they never do. Her typical day is a nightmarish day for any other, young, attractive woman. A man flashing her his penis, another man trying to steal her shopping cart filled with all of the bottles and cans she collected, and another man hoping to pull down her sweatpants or lift up her sweat shirt for some quick free feels. Too common are the minor incidences. As if she's a Japanese woman molested on a subway train or on a bus, desperate men run up behind her to grab some quick gropes of her breasts and her ass before running away.

The ones she fears the most are the men who are out to hurt her, beat her, rape her, and possibly kill her. She carries a heavy piece pipe with her for protection. One quick, hard blow to the head is sufficient enough for her to run away and make good her getaway. Nonetheless her street smarts, commonsense, and self awareness, tall, blonde, busty, and beautiful, even in her disheveled appearance, she's a constant target for men looking to have their wicked, sexual way with her.

As if a street cop, she's always aware of her surroundings. A real back alley brawler, never an easy target or a willing victim, she knows where and when she can safely go. Her one rule is to never get in the car to allow them to take her somewhere more remote. She'd have a better chance of surviving an attack by making her fight there in the alley, a place she knows well.

There's always more chance of trouble early in the morning and late at night. During the rest of the day, there's plenty of people out and about. If it wasn't for her noisy shopping cart wheel, with most people too busy going to work and heading home to notice her, they'd never hear or see her. She'd rather remain beneath the radar anyway. Weekends are relatively safe as lots of people use the alleyways as a cut through when retrieving their illegally parked cars. For someone who had nothing and expected nothing in return from no one, she was relatively happy, so long as she was left alone. Starting from the time she was an 18-year-old virgin, a Post Traumatic Stress victim from all of the sexual abuse she survived early on between her uncle, her cousin, her brothers, and even her ex-husband, scratch the surface and this bag lady becomes a wild cat.

* * * * *

Going from alley to alley and trying to beat the trash trucks, as soon as she turned down one alley to check the dumpsters for cans and bottles in another, she heard a car slowly coming up behind her. Nothing new, even though she wore baggy clothes, sweat pants and a sweatshirt, her blonde hair was a beacon as if she waved a sexual flag and men were always checking out her shapely ass and long legs. She could only imagine how interested in her they'd be if she had her hair and makeup done and wore a short skirt while flashing them her white, bikini panties by bending at the waist to pickup cans and bottles. Not wanting to scratch his car, she moved her shopping cart to the side and as far out of the way as she could. With the alley so narrow, there was room just enough for the car to get by her without her scratching his new car with her shopping cart. As if glowing in the light, she could tell it was a new car by the new car shine that she saw in her peripheral vision. A shine that lasts a year, only a new car shines like that.

"Hi there," he said as if she was walking down the dock towards him standing on the gangplank and he was welcoming her aboard his yacht.

"Hi yourself," she said bowing her head, cocking her chin, and turning her eyes just enough to look at him through his open, passenger side, car window.

Not very trusting of strangers, especially men, and suspicious of everyone who approached her, better safe than sorry, even though she couldn't help but smile by his friendly greeting, she still gave him a hard stare. He was a man in his early 60's and a good twenty years older than she was. Looking a bit like John Voigt in his better days, he was a good looking man nonetheless. If he looked this good now, she could only imagine what he must have looked like thirty years ago. Someone's dreamboat, he must have been a real hunk.

A pleasant enough looking man, he had a happy face and a pleasing countenance that made her smile when seeing him. Yet, should things turn ugly quickly and he turn perversely violent, she was ready to whack him in the face, dent his car, and crack his windshield with her pipe. Unafraid to defend herself, she's done that before when a man wouldn't take no for an answer. Moreover, after getting a good look at him, if she had to pick him out of a police lineup and give a description of his car, she could and would.

Yet he wasn't like the other men who roamed the alleys looking for drugs, criminal opportunities, and trouble. Friendly and affable, he had a kind face of a man of God. If he wore the white collar, she'd think he was a reverend or a priest. He looked like someone's father. Other than the men passing out food at the mission, there weren't many men down here who looked like that. Everyone she saw looked hard, depressed, and ready for a fight. Always wearing her street face, all the men she saw walking down the alley had the same angry look on their faces that she had but he didn't. She wondered how different these troubled men's lives would be if life had been kinder to them and if they had the opportunities afforded to them that most white folks take for granted and have for a college education and for a better job. Even with holding down two jobs, it's hard to pay rent and feed a family working a service job at McDonalds and/or Burger King.

She figured he was just someone cruising the back alleys looking for sex but, sniffing around the wrong woman, she was no prostitute and in the way she needed a shower, she wasn't in the mood for sex or for anything sexual from anyone. More interested in a hot cup of coffee and a warm meal, sex was the last thing on her hungry mind. Sex was the last thing she was interested in giving him or having with anyone. Craving the necessities of life, a hot meal, a hot shower, and a good night sleep, was more important than rolling around in bed sweating and screaming while faking yet another orgasm for a man who was only interested in sexually satisfying himself. Without doubt after being homeless for so long, food replaced her sexual fantasies and she dreamed of fresh fruit and vegetables in the way that others dreamt of fancy cars and big houses. Picking it every time, if she had her druthers, she'd rather have a hot meal, a hot shower, and a good night's sleep in a clean, bedbug free bed than to have hot sex with a strange man.

If only his poor wife and embarrassed children knew that Daddy was out looking for sex with a bag lady, wouldn't they be surprised but, with a mind of her own, she was no one's whore. She was just a poor, unemployed, and homeless woman out collecting enough cans and bottles to feed herself for another day. Sometimes unable to judge a book by its cover, even she gets fooled and played, but being that she's been on the street for several long, cold months, she's better than most at sensing danger. With a trained enough eye, evil was easy to detect but she sensed that he wasn't evil or dangerous. If anything, he seemed like a nice guy, if there still was such a thing as a nice guy. Reading his sorrowful expression, if anything, he looked sad and lonely. Even though he had a fancy, new car, life has, no doubt, delivered him a few blows to the head.

For all that she knew, he could be some weirdo wanting her to get in his car to drive her somewhere and to force her to have sex with him before killing her. For all she knew, he could have a gun or a knife and be a total nut job. Ted Bundy was a good looking guy with a kind face and a good personality. For all she knew, he could be Ted Bundy's nephew. Not allowing her guard down to be distracted by the conversation, she kept her wits about her when talking to him. Besides, if he didn't want a scratched car, he'd better behave.

"What are you doing?" He looked at her and talked to her as if she was a normal person, someone other than a homeless bag lady.

Curious by his interest, she was nonetheless embarrassed by his stares and offended by his leers. Much like the rats and roaches that inhabit the alley, but for her noisy shopping car, she'd rather stay hidden in the shadows of the doorways and dumpsters while going about her business collecting cans and bottles. Staying invisible by staying in the shadows afforded by the dim light of the alley is how she survived on the streets this long without being jostled by the police, bothered by men looking for trouble, and molested by some sexual offender. Unless they were looking for sex and for trouble, few noticed her going about her business of picking up cans, bottles, and scratch tickets.

"What am I doing?" She gave him a hard stare. She already had an attitude with his dumb question. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"I don't know, which is the reason why I asked," he said with a pleasant enough smile that made her want to bitch slap some sense in him for asking such a stupid question.

Always revealing her attitude when just scratching her surface, she tossed a can and placed a bottle in her bag before giving him an attitude filled look to show him that she was the wrong person to fuck with in case he had something other than making idle small talk on his mind. She looked down at her dirty fingernails and was embarrassed by them. If she could afford them, she'd wear rubber gloves to pick up her bottles and cans from the dirty alley but eating up too much in her profits, she'd rather buy food than to waste what little money she has on rubber gloves.

"I'm selling Avon. Do you want to buy some lipstick," she said with a laugh. 

"Avon? Lipstick? No, I don't wear lipstick," he said with a laugh while giving her a long look. "I've never seen an Avon lady who looks like you," he said.

She didn't know if she should take his comment as an insult or a compliment.

"I'm picking up cans and bottles," she said deciding to take his comment as an insult.

"Oh, I forgot. That's right. Today is Earth Day, isn't it? Save the planet and light a candle instead of flipping a light switch. Think green. Reduce, reuse, and recycle, I get it. Well, Happy Earth Day to you," he said pausing in his conversation to stare at her breasts. "You're not one of those Greenpeace environmentalists looking to save the whales, help the tigers, and protect the bird sanctuaries, are you? Not that there's anything wrong with being a Greenpeace environmentalist."

"Greenpeace environmentalists? Do I look Irish to you?" She laughed at her own joke. "There's nothing green about me. I'm Czechoslovakian and English," she said with another laugh while flirting with him.

"I didn't mean to say that you were Irish. Greenpeace is an organization--"

"I know who they are Mister. I'm not an idiot. I was just making a joke," she said giving him even more attitude with her hard stare when he failed to get her subtle humor. Thinking again that he insulted her with the Avon comment, she looked at him as is he was making fun of her before she let him have it with her verbal assault. "Happy Earth Day? Who the fuck says Happy Earth Day anyway?"

"I guess no one," said the man looking a bit nervously embarrassed by her lambasting him.

"Not even Al Gore says Happy Earth Day and he's the biggest dweeb on the planet," she said positioned high on her soap box now that she had an audience. "Showing yet again that one doesn't have to be cool to be a multimillionaire, after he sold his movie rights to Al Jazeera for half a billion dollars, which makes me wonder about the loyalty of my elected public officials, excuse me, I mean public servants, especially one who wanted to be president. Now that I think about it, with his share of the half a billion, one-hundred-million dollars, I guess that's the going rate to forfeit the presidency and not legally fight for a recount when losing by only a few hundred votes."

"Are you saying the Republican's bought Bush the presidency...again?"

"Bought and sold with deferred payment hitting the books now to make it so that no one notices," she said. "Papa Bush is the one who had the contacts with the Saudis and with Al Jazeera."

Al Gore was a sore point with her. She hated the man. Matter of fact, except for Ed Bates and Bill Nye the science guy, no celebrities that she's aware of is green enough to say Happy fucking Earth Day to her. As if she was out of step with the planet when instead with being homeless, she was more in tune with the Earth than he was, for some reason, his Happy Earth Day salutation offended her. Because she was out here walking the streets while he rode around in his new car, as if Earth Day was her secret club, he wasn't a member but just another uninvited interloper.

Maybe because she's living the reality of Earth Day by collecting bottles and cans on the dirty city streets was why she found him saying Happy Earth Day so offensive. As if because it was Earth Day, she was supposed to be happy. She wasn't happy. She was sad. She was tired, hungry, and needed a hot shower. For what reason should she be happy when Earth Day was just another retail shopping day used as an excuse to sell shit, cars, appliances, and furniture?

Other than to give her life by giving her gravity for her to keep her hold on the planet and not be launched into outer space, what has the Earth done for her? Is she supposed to be happy for being unemployed, homeless, and poor? She's not happy. She's angry. Maybe if she had the money that he obviously had to afford a new car, she'd be wishing him a Happy fucking Earth Day and wishing Happy fucking Earth Day to everyone she saw. Why the fuck should she celebrate her misery in picking up bottles and cans to save the planet when she was picking up bottles and cans to feed herself?

"Happy fucking Earth Day my ass," she said.

He's lucky she didn't spit on his new car or accidentally let go of her shopping cart to give him his first scratch.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't making fun of you or trying to offend you," he said.

"No," she said with a little smile while not giving a shit about Earth Day, Arbor Day, Labor Day or any other fucking pretend holiday other than that today was Monday, April 22nd. "With one day falling into the next and all of my homeless and hungry days morphing together, I had no idea that today is Monday, never mind Earth Day, and I'm not one of those Greenpeace environmentalists and ecological conservationists."

"C'mon, you can tell me. Don't be so modest," he chided while smiling up at her. "Is that who you are and is that what you're doing? Are you an undercover environmentalist? Are you a stealth conservationist? Are you helping to clean the planet for Earth Day? Is that your dirty, little secret," he said noticing her dirty hands and blackened fingernails.

She realized he was just trying to be friendly but he was hitting her the wrong way. Instead of making her laugh by his attempt at humor, he was making her angry. Just by the frightful way she was dressed, unless he was an idiot, she imagined that he couldn't help but notice and know that she wasn't an environmentalist or a conservationist. She was just a smelly bag lady walking through a dirty alleyway with her noisy shopping cart while picking up bottles and cans to redeem for her to buy enough food to keep her alive for another day.




Cleaning Cans and Bottles Topless



"I'm not helping to clean the planet for Earth Day Mister," she said with a tone to her voice when still suspecting that he may be poking fun at her.

"If you are an environmentalist and/or a conservationist," he said continuing his teasing with a smile, "then I commend you for your hard work and applaud you for your unappreciated effort in your contribution in helping to clean the planet. Bravo," he said clapping.

Feeling his stare burning twin laser beams through her sweatshirt and bra, she looked away from him and from his leer. Yet, still monitoring him with her peripheral vision, he looked at her in the way that they all did. Young or old, they all stared at her tits and they all stared at her as if undressing her with their eyes. First he looked at her face and then, unable for her to hide them even in her baggy sweatshirt, when he noticed that she had tits, big tits, he stared at her tits. He talked to her breasts as if her breasts had the brains enough to answer him in the way that he talked through his cock when he leered at women. Men always thought with their cocks and he was no different.

"Environmentalist? Earth Day? Nah. I'm just trying to collect enough bottles and cans to cash in for the money. I need to get through tomorrow," she said with a sad, little laugh. "One day at a time. I figure six dollars is enough to feed me for the day," she said reaching down to pickup and place a bottle and toss a can in the green, plastic bag that lay open in her cart. "I'm just glad that people are littering pigs. I'm just glad that people are too lazy and don't need the five cents to care enough to redeem their bottles and cans."

"Six dollars? That doesn't seem like very much to feed yourself for the whole day," he said. "Six dollars buys me a coffee and a muffin at Starbucks," he said with a nervous laugh by her stern stare.

"Actually, you're right. Six dollars isn't enough money to feed myself properly and nutritionally for the day but the mission gives me a hot meal most days too," she said. "Still, maybe because I'm forever expending my energy to walk the streets looking for cans and bottles is the reason why I'm always hungry and, until they open the shelter again later, I'm always cold," she said. She wrapped her arms around herself to stop herself from shivering while looking up at the grey sky and ignored him still staring at her tits.

"It must be so awful to be homeless and to not have a place to call home and all your own," he said with kind sincerity.

Only instead of feeling appreciative for his understanding, she felt angry because he had a home and she didn't. He had a new car and she didn't. Obviously, he had a job and income and she didn't. Why her? What did she do so wrong to deserved homelessness and to have nothing but misery? She just wanted a cup of coffee.

"It is awful to be homeless," she said using his word to describe how she felt when she wanted to add a few expletives but controlled herself from showing her anger with vulgarity.

"I can't imagine endlessly wandering the streets," he said showing her some compassion along with his lustful leers. "Worse for a woman being homeless than it is for a man, I can only imagine what you already must have had endured by living on the streets."

Having been down this road before with men, her ears perked up when he said homelessness was worse for a woman than a man. Suddenly, she didn't trust him. He's up to something, but what? Nonetheless, she played his silly game of dialogue and with him pretending that he felt bad for her plight. He was like all the other men in her life. He was only looking for sex. He just wanted to see, feel, and suck her big tits.

"The rain is the worst part of being outside in the cold. If you get wet, you'll never get warm again until you can take a warm shower and put on some warm clothes. Unfortunately, being out on the street, I can't always take a shower," she said lifting her arm to smell her armpit when he looked away and before looking up at a grey cloud again.

"I can only imagine," he said staring at her tits again.

"The snow is even worse. I can't push my shopping cart in the snow," she said. "I have to trudge through the snow and lug my bag around with me and without having a hat, gloves, or boots, it doesn't take long for me to get frostbitten. So cold, after I cash in my bottles and cans, I spend my days nursing my coffee in McDonalds and taking slow, tiny bits from my breakfast sandwich which may be the only thing that I eat until tomorrow. If I buy coffee and food the manager doesn't bother me but as soon as I'm done and still sitting there trying to get warm, he'll ask me to leave and that's when I hit the ladies room. He can't bother me in there," she said.

When she looked away from him, she gave him the opportunity to look away from her face to stare at her tits. Always bothered by their stares and offended by their leers, she hasn't enjoyed someone staring at her breasts in the way that she was enjoying it now in a long time. As if he's never seen a busty woman before, as do most men, he seemed enamored with her big breasts. Suddenly enjoying the attention of a breast man, maybe his wife or girlfriend has small breasts. Maybe he's never been with a big breasted woman before and having sex with a busty woman is his sexual fantasy. Maybe him staring at her tits has something to do with him not sucking his mother's tits long enough then, that made him want to suck her breasts now. Just as she's never understood some women's fixation with cocks, she never understood men's fixation with her breasts.

Whatever was the reason why he stared at her tits, she didn't know but he stared at her tits a lot, every chance he had. Strangely enough, all she knew was that his stares and leers that made her feel uncomfortable before were making her feel horny now. Nonetheless her discomfort, when he made his way from the driver's seat over to the passenger seat to better see her and talk to her, she was ready with her cart if he tried to reach his hand out to feel her tit, grab her breasts, and try to lift up her top and bra. Taking her by surprise and catching her off guard, she's had that happen to her several times before, bastard men wanting to see and feel her big tits. She's had one too many perverted men intent on having their violent way with her by coming up behind her to cop cheap feels of her ass and tits. If she allowed them, they'd strip her naked and force her to suck them. If she allowed them, they'd rape her and fuck her.

"Yeah, it's suppose to rain today," he said only removing his eyes from her breasts to look up at the sky through his windshield.

It was a little chilly outside this early hour of the morning and her nipples always made their appearance known when she was cold and/or sexually excited and right now she was a little of both. Along with her big tits, she had big nipples too. She had the kind of nipples that made men stare whenever they saw her nickel sized, impressions of her nipples hardening and erecting to make her sensitivity to the cool temperatures and/or her feelings of sexual desire known through her clothes. 

She had the kind of nipples that made the sound of a cork being popped from a champagne bottle when quickly pulled from a man's lips. She knew he could see the impressions of her big nipples poking out through her bra and blouse but she didn't care. Maybe because of a hormonal change or maybe because she was getting her period, she's been feeling horny lately and it's been a long time since she's had any sexual attention from a man, other than stares, leers, and gropes. Even though he was staring at her tits, he didn't seem like all of the other jerks. He seemed like a nice man.

After being homeless and on the streets for so long and not receiving any attention from men that wasn't lewd, lascivious, nasty, and mean, by the attention of his mostly welcomed stares, oxymoronic in her emotions, when he wasn't making her feel uncomfortable, he made her feel sexy. Even though she didn't even know his name and he didn't know her name either, he made her feel romantically wanted and sexually desired by the kind attention he was paying her. No one took interest in her enough to even ask her a question. Instead, they made inappropriate comments and lewd gestures, generally about her tits. Suddenly feeling a familiar warmth between her legs, even though he was much older than she was, he was still a man and he added to her already present horniness. It had been quite a long time since she's had sex and felt a man's lustful passion between her legs. He made her feel special enough to want to show him more than just the impressions that her nipples through her sweatshirt.

Being that she's an exhibitionist, a side effect from suffering incestuous sexual abuse from her uncle, her cousin, and her brothers, he made her want to show him her tits. If he asked nicely to feel her big tits through her clothes, she'd allow him the pleasure for five dollars. If he asked to see her big tits, she'd allow him that honor too for ten dollars. She'd love to have that heated warm sensation of a man feeling and fondling her big tits while fingering and sucking her big nipples again and while rubbing her clit and fingering her pussy. Only, fearing that he may be a cop and she'd be charged with prostitution, she'd never ask if he wanted to feel and/or see her tits for money. Not wanting to go to jail for solicitation, he'd have to be the one to ask and he'd have to be the one to tell her what he wanted her to do and for how much. Only, too old to be a cop, he didn't look like any cop she's ever seen before.

"I don't mind a little rain but when it's a bone chilling, skin soaking downpour, I have to find a bridge to stay under with the rats that want to stay out of the rain too," she said looking up at the sky again so that he'd have another free look at her big boobs and erect nipples.

Proud of her big breasts, she enjoyed showing off her big tits to a man who appreciated a big breasted woman. Maybe because it's been so long since a man paid her any attention sexual or otherwise, she enjoyed the sexual attention that he was paying her now. Sticking out her big chest even more, she yawned and stretched to more exaggerate the size of her huge breasts while watching his eyes bug out of his head as if she was a topless dancer twirling and twisting her body around a pole. Looking as if she had two bowling balls stuck down her sweatshirt, she knew that her stretching motion would get him going and, by the length of his stare and the inappropriate comment he made immediately after, her flexing and stretching did.

"I can only imagine your blouse and bra being soaked through," he said not removing his eyes from her big tits and from the impressions her nipples made through her bra and sweatshirt. "You have huge breasts and enormous nipples," he said as if he was a man dying of thirst but she ignored his inappropriate comment. "I love big tits."

"Only, on those rainy days," she said acting as if she didn't hear his comment. Instead, hoping to play about his good nature, she hinted for a hopeful donation. "I had better have some extra money put aside for food because my scavenging is limited," she said looking down at him quick enough to catch him staring up at her big knockers again.

"How much do you earn from redeeming each can and bottle?"

He acted too interested in her bottle and can collection but she knew he was more interested in her jugs than he was in bottles and cans. Besides, he asked too many questions and with this absurd question, she looked at him as if he was kidding.

"How much do I earn from redeeming each can and bottle? What are you from another planet Mister?"

"Sorry. I really don't know. I drink only water and coffee. I can't remember the last time I had a can or bottle of soda pop, when I was a kid I imagine," he said giving her a kind smile that cooled her attitude.

Soda pop? Who refers to Coke and Pepsi as soda pop instead of tonic or soda. Figuring he was a hick from the Kansas or Minnesota, a state perhaps where they didn't have bottle and can redemption, she gave him the benefit of the doubt and answered his dumb question.

"Apparently, if only by the look of your new car, you've never been poor and hungry enough to collect and redeem cans and bottles."

"Michael. Call me Michael," he said showing her his white teeth. "I've been fortunate to have a job and successful in my career not to know hunger."

"I earn 5 cents a can and 5 cents a bottle for every can and bottle I return. That's the redemption price for cans and bottles since forever," she said holding up a can and a can for him to see the deposit price. "Do the math Michael. For me to earn six dollars, I have to find 120 cans and/or bottles," she said with her always present bad attitude while rolling her eyes and sighing, and before putting an assertive hand to her hip and tossing the can back in her bag.

She didn't know why she was even answering his inane questions but she was. Sick of the boredom of picking up bottle and cans, what else did she have to do? Besides, it was a break from walking to talk to someone other than herself. She's been so lonely lately and for some reason, even though he was an older man, at least by twenty years, albeit a good looking man, he brought out the woman in her. For some reason, she felt safely sexy with him. It's been a long time since she felt good enough about herself to feel sexy and, by his obvious interest in her, rather in her tits, he titillated more than her curiosity.

"Wow! One hundred twenty cans and bottles, that's quite a lot of recyclables to collect. How long does it take you to collect all of that?"

Recyclables, who calls dirty cans and bottles recyclables? Obviously, he was delaying her to keep her in conversation but why? What's on his mind? He's up to something but what? Maybe in the way that she obviously is by still standing there and talking to him, he's just lonely too. Maybe just like every guy, young or old, he's enamored by her big tits and trying to build up the courage to ask her if he could feel them and/or see them for money. She's done that before, trading feels and looks of her big tits for a few dollars, what else was she supposed to do when she couldn't collect enough bottles and cans to feed herself? Besides, what difference did it make selling feels and peeks of her tits? Whether she's in a back alley now that she's homeless or in the backseat of a car after a date before she was homeless, what men felt and saw for free before she charged them for the pleasure now.

"It depends. When they have a parade or a celebration in the way they did when the Ravens won the Super Bowl, I can find more than enough cans and bottles in an hour. I collected more than three hundred bottles and cans in a little more than an hour. I'd collect more but I can't lug all of those and I have no place to store them and to hide the excess."

"Three hundred bottles and cans? Wow! I can't imagine that many bottles and cans," he said prolonging the conversation just to stare, no doubt, at her big tits.

"Otherwise, when there's nothing happening downtown but for the same old, same old, finding enough cans and bottles to earn six dollars takes me all day. I have lots of competition. A sad state of affairs in this recession and bad economy, there are plenty of others doing what I do to feed themselves," she said with sadness. "If my government really wanted to know how many are unemployed, homeless, and suffering, they just have to go to any city, big or small, and look at all the street urchins who wander the city streets and the back alleys while scavenging for enough bottles and cans to feed not only themselves but also their children."

"I see," he said turning off his car, leaning forward, and hanging out of his passenger side window to look up at her big breasts before looking up at her pretty face. "You know, if you don't mind me saying so, you're quite attractive. With your hair done, a little makeup, and some new clothes, you'd...sorry," he said reacting to her stern look. "I didn't mean to offend you. I've overstepped my boundaries. Please forgive me."

Now instead of feeling sexy, he made her feel bad about herself. She knows she's attractive and was once considered beautiful, now look at her. She's a mess. Only, she realized that he meant no harm.

"It's okay," she said softening her bad attitude with a wave of her hand. "I used to be good looking once, not that long ago, actually, before life took me by the neck and stuffed unemployment, homelessness, and poverty down my throat for me to digest."

"No doubt, you'd be good looking again, if something good happened instead of something bad," he said optimistically.

"Thank you. Yeah, I need for something good to happen," she said. "I'm tired of being beaten down, kicked to the side of the curb, and stepped over."

Ready to leave him, she stayed when he stayed too. They stayed like that looking at one another for a long moment before he spoke again.

"If I may be so boldly presumptuous..."

"Yes?"

"I have a proposition for you," he said.

"Proposition? Hell no! Uh, uh! Listen Mister, I already told you. I'm not giving you sex," she said jumping all over him without even giving him a chance to finish his thought enough to tell her his proposition.

"No, that's not what I meant by proposition," he said waving his hands as if he was stranded on the highway and trying to flag down a car for help. "Sorry, that was a wrong word choice. Sex is out of the question and not part of this equation," he said shaking his grey head while waving his hands. "I can assure you that sex is not what my proposition is about." He looked at her looking at him. "Instead of you earning a mere five cents a can and bottle you collected," he said giving her a smile.

"Yes," she said leaning in closer to hear what was his proposition.

"What if I offered you a dollar for every can and bottle you collected?"

"A dollar?" She gave him a sideways look as if he was drunk or crazy. "Seriously? You'd give me a dollar for every can and bottle that I collect? Why? Why would you do that? Why would you give me a dollar for every can and bottle that I collected? Do you know something that I don't know? Are they lining these cans with gold and making the bottles out of crystal," she said picking up an empty can from her green bag to peer inside and holding up a bottle to look at it in the light.

"If cans were lined in gold and bottles made from crystal darling, I'd be out here with you collecting cans and bottles," he said with a laugh.

"Then, I don't understand. Why would you pay me a dollar a can and bottle then?"

"Because I want to help you," he said.

"Help me? Why would you want to help me? You don't even know me. I think you more want to help yourself," she said with suspicion. "You haven't taken your eyes off of my tits since you stopped your car," she said.

"I apologize for staring at your chest but your breasts are quite large and rather difficult not to notice," he said with a nervous laugh.

"Listen Mister. I already told you. I'm not going to give you sex," she said more emphatically. "You best be on your way," she said taking a step back to avoid being run over.

In a desperate move, she thought about offering him a feel of her tits for five dollars or to see her tits for ten dollars. She's even allow him to finger and suck her nipples for twenty dollars but what if he was a cop? She didn't want to risk arrest and prosecution.

"Michael, please call me Michael," he said looking up at her with his grey eyes with a smile while making eye contact with her this time instead of focusing his stare of her tits. "You have pretty blue eyes," he said looking at her with affection.




Cleaning Cans and Bottles Topless



"Thank you but I'm not a slut. I don't go to bed with strangers," she said. "Just because I'm homeless and wandering the street doesn't make me available. Just as I'm not an environmentalist, a conversationalist, and didn't even know today was Earth Day, I'm not a whore."

"I know you're not a whore and I don't think of you as a slut or a whore. Besides, we're not strangers. I already introduced myself to you and told you my name. My name is Michael," he said holding out his hand for her to shake. "What's your name pretty lady?"

"Susan. Susan Jill Parker."

* * * * *

"It's a pleasure to meet you Susan Jill Parker. Now about that dollar a can and bottle," he said with a smile. "Are you interested? You'd be doing me a big favor by cleaning up the trash that litters my back alleyway and I'd be helping you to feed yourself. In the way that I see it, it's a win/win for both of us."

Studying him to see if she could trust him, she looked at him while considering his proposition.

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be interested in a buck a can and bottle? Who wouldn't be interested in earning a buck a can and bottle instead of a nickel? But it depends," she said still not trusting him. Figuring where the conversation was going in the direction of him asking her for sex, she was reticent to continue the conversation even at the expense of giving up earning a dollar for a can and bottle.

"It depends? It depends on what?"

"It depends on what I have to do to earn the dollar," she said eyeing him while waiting for him to stare at her tits again but he didn't this time.

No telling what he was all about, she imagined him wanting her to have sex with a bottle neck, or having her pee in a can to pour over his head, or to drink her urine. All three thoughts disgusted her but ready to do whatever he wanted, so long as it wasn't him having sex with her naked body, she was willing to oblige him, whatever was his fetish. Maybe all he wanted was a feel of her big tits and to suck her big nipples. Ten bucks a tit, she'd charge him twenty dollars for him to have his wicked way with her tits for ten minutes.

Even though today was nice and nearly spring like, there was some bad weather coming and twenty dollars would buy her enough food for a few days so that she wouldn't have to walk the streets collecting bottles and cans. Definitely, she'd allow him the use of her tits for twenty dollars, that is, so long as she didn't have to do anything else to pleasure him. She wasn't about to fuck him or to suck his cock for twenty dollars. Maybe, if she was in the mood, being that she's already so horny, she'd give him a hand job for twenty-five dollars. She'd even suck him for fifty dollars. Yeah, fifty dollars would be a fair price for her to suck his cock, so long as he didn't cum in her mouth. More than what a crack head prostitute would charge, she'd charge him hundred dollars for him to cum in her mouth and more for her to swallow his cum.

"Well, all you have to do is to wash the cans and bottles in my kitchen. That's all. You can even keep them after your done cleaning them," he said. "In essence with me paying you a dollar a bottle and can and you redeeming each bottle and can for a nickel each, you'll be earning a dollar and five for every can and bottle, while cleaning the planet of bottles and cans on Earth Day."

"Seriously?" She looked at him as if he was crazy. "Lemme get this straight," she said looking at him again. "You'll give me a buck a can and bottle just to wash them in your kitchen," she said looking at him as if was some kind of pervert or some type of nut. "And I get to keep the washed bottles and cans? Is that's it?"

"Yes, that's it? And yes, you get to keep the washed bottles and cans," he said smiling up at her.

"What are you a pervert who gets off on watching a woman washing things Mister?"

"Michael. Please call me Michael," he said flashing her his smile again. "A pervert?" He laughed. "No, I don't think I'm a pervert. I'm just a man offering to help a pretty woman by giving her some much needed money."

"Then, what do you get out of me washing my cans and bottles in your kitchen?"

"What do I get? I get a lot. I get to watch you standing at my sink washing bottles and cans. I get to spend some time with you and talk to you. That's all. That may not seem a lot to you but it's a lot to me," he said pausing before speaking again. "I'm lonely."

"Me too. I'm lonely too," she said not believing that she was confessing how she felt to a stranger.

"So what do you say Susan Jill Parker?"

"Okay, but, be honest," she said. "What's the real reason that you want me washing my cans and bottles in your kitchen?" She looked at him with suspicion.

"The real reason?" He looked at her with appreciation of her obvious insight into his ulterior motive. "The real reason is," he said looking away from her when he started to tear up and to collect himself before speaking again. "I'm not only lonely but you remind me of a woman I used to know," he said with sadness.

They looked at one another in silence before she responded.

"Okay, I'll do it," she said apparently satisfied with his answer.

"Wonderful. Follow me then," he said moving from the passenger seat to the driver's seat and starting his car.

"Where?"

"Right here," he said pulling his car in a parking spot in front of her. "I live right here," he said getting out of his car and setting the alarm. "You can leave your shopping cart just inside the door so that it won't get stolen. It will be safe there. No one will touch it. The back door locks when closed and only I have access to the back door. I own the building. Because this is such a high crime area, all of my tenants know to enter and leave by the front, unless there's an emergency."

"Okay," she said pushing her cart inside.

"Let me give you a hand with those," he said taking the big bag of cans and bottles from her.

"Best you not try any funny business Mister, I mean, Michael," she said. "I grew up with four older brothers and I know a few things about self defense."

"Don't worry," he said. "I don't mean you any harm and at my age and your great physique, I'm sure you could deliver me a sound trashing."

Susan followed him upstairs and inside his house. He escorted her to the kitchen.

"Is that where you want me," she said when he put the bag down in front of the sink.

"Yes," he said. "And if you don't mind, I prefer you to stand while washing them instead of sitting. I'll be sitting right here watching you," he said pulling up a chair so that he could see her from the front and from the left side.

"Okay," she said opening her bag to peer inside. "There's a lot of cans and bottles in here," she said turning her head to look at him. "Are you sure you can afford to pay me a buck a can and bottle for all of these cans and bottles?"

"Yes, I'm quite sure," he said with a laugh. "Can I get you anything before you start washing them, coffee, tea, water, or a soft drink?"

"Coffee would be great if you already have some made," she said. "I've been dying for a cup of coffee."

"I do have some freshly made coffee. How do you take your coffee?"

"Just black," she said.

"I should warn you that I make strong coffee, Starbucks French Roast. I grind my own beans."

"The stronger the better, as far as I'm concerned, so long as it's hot," she said.

"Sit while you have your coffee and after you're done, you can start washing your cans and bottles for me," he said.

Susan sat at his kitchen table while he poured her a cup of coffee. Embarrassed by her appearance and feeling a bit like Calamity Jane in Deadwood after waking up sober from a week of binge drinking, she pulled down her sleeves to cover her dirty hands.

"Thank you," she said taking a sip of coffee.

"You're welcome to use my bathroom," he said noting her grime stained hands and fingers. "You're welcome to take a shower, if you'd like. Mi casa su casa."

"Mi casa su casa? If that's what you mean by talking to me in a foreign language for me to take off my clothes, I'm not taking off my clothes Mister," she said.

"Michael. Call me Michael please," he said with the smile of a priest. "Mi casa su casa is Spanish for my house is your house. My bathroom door has a lock on it."

"I'm not stupid Michael not to think that you have a hidden camera in your bathroom to watch me strip naked and shower," she said.

"I can assure you that I don't have a hidden camera in my bathroom," he said with a chuckle. "I'm not the kind of man who'd do that to a lady," he said addressing her as such. "You're free to inspect the bathroom before removing your clothes to take your shower," he said.

Wanting to accept his offer of a hot shower, she looked at him with suspicion. Only, once clean, she'd hate to get dressed in her dirty clothes again.

"It doesn't seem much good to wash if I'm only going to put on my same, dirty, smelly clothes," she said as if talking to herself while looking down at her disheveled appearance and raising her arm to smell her armpit when he looked away.

"My wife was about your size," he said.

"She was?"

"I have her clothes that you can have," he said.

"You do? I can keep the clothes?"

"Yes, I do. Yes, you may have her clothes to keep," he said smiling at her with kindness. "I'm glad to put them to better use than just hanging in the closet and giving them to Goodwill to sell to some stranger."

"Okay," she said. "Then, after I shower, I can still wash the bottles and cans for you? We still have a deal for a dollar a can and bottle? Right?"

"Yes, of course. We still have a deal," he said offering her his hand to shake again. "Come. Let me show you the clothes," he said leading her to the bedroom.

Cautiously, reluctantly, and maintaining her distance, suspecting if he was going to try something, he'd try it here in the bedroom, she slowly followed him to the bedroom. He could have a knife, a gun, or any kind of weapon to render her helpless while he stripped her naked and tied her to the bed. Suddenly, she was dizzy with sexual excitement with the thoughts of him stripping her naked and tying her to the bed. It's been a long time since she's played that sexy game. 

"You have a nice place Michael. Everything is so neat and clean. I really like your kitchen with all the stainless steel appliances, beautiful, custom cabinetry, tiled backsplash, the lighting, and the granite countertops. Even your floor is beautiful. It's the best kitchen I've ever seen. You must do a lot of cooking," she said looking at everything as she stood in the doorway of his bedroom.

"Aside from what I make using a microwave and toaster, I don't cook but my wife did. She was a good cook and I miss her cooking as much as I miss her," he said. "Here are her clothes," he said casting open four sets of walk-in closet doors. "I've already given away some of her things."

"Wow, she sure has a lot of clothes. I haven't seen this many clothes since I went to the mall and walked through Ann Taylor's, that is," she said with a laugh, "before they asked me to leave."

"Cynthia was quite the shopper," he said.

"Why did she leave you?"

"Leave me? You can say that, I guess. In a way, she did leave me," he said with sadness. "She died. Actually, so serendipitous that I met you on Earth Day, she died on Earth Day. Suddenly, ashes to ashes and dust to dust, Earth Day has new meaning for me. Earth Day, a day that should be a happy day and more about the salvation of the planet, seems to be a personal and a key day in my life," he said with sadness, "especially after having met you on Earth Day too."

"I'm sorry for your loss," she said pausing while wondering if she should ask but he looked as if he wanted to talk about it. Suddenly, he appeared so sad, so lost, and so lonely that he looked as if he was about to cry.

"It's okay. It's been three years," he said touching some of the clothes that hung from hangers as if they were her ghosts before lifting the sleeve on a few of her blouses to smell them and to hold them up against his cheek as if he was lifting her hand and dancing with her blouse.

"How did she die?"

"Unfortunately and tragically, rather than to live with me any longer, not even for another day to explain how she felt and why, I imagine while blaming myself," he said with a flash of anger, "she killed herself. She committed suicide. She destroyed the only woman that I ever truly loved."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she said. "How did she die? I mean, how did she--"

"She jumped off a bridge. They found her bloated body floating in the Susquehanna River. I barely recognized her remains after something had been feeding on her face," he said.

"That's so horrible. I can't even imagine your pain," she said.

"Thank you," he said, "but I'm okay now, I think, that is, aside from picking up a strange woman on Earth Day because she resembles my deceased wife," he said with a sad laugh. "Here," he said pulling out some assorted jeans and tops. "Take whatever and as much as you'd like. I'm only going to bag them up and donate them to Goodwill. It seems foolish to give them to a stranger when I can give them to you, someone who really can use the clothes. After you shower, you can wear any of these clothes and take the rest with you," he said pointing to the closet as if he was a model and showing a showcase on the Prize is Right or Let's Make a Deal. "There are panties and bras in the drawer there," he said looking at her while pointing to the dresser. "Many of her clothes still have tags on them. If you don't mind me asking, what cup size are you, a C cup?"

"I'm a 36D," she said.

"Cynthia was a 36D too. I'm sure there are bras in her drawer of every color and style that will fit you. She was quite fond of sexy lingerie, which makes me wonder if she had a lover because the only time I saw her lingerie was when it was in the wash. "There's even a brand new hairbrush and toothbrush that she never used and some makeup that she never even opened that I had bought her for her birthday," he said leaving her alone in the room and closing the bedroom door behind him. 

"Thank you," said Susan just before he closed the door.

Taking her time looking at everything and taking only what she wanted and only what she needed, Susan emerged from the room carrying a pair of jeans, panty, bra, a top, and Cynthia's hairbrush, toothbrush, and makeup.

"The guest bathroom is down the hall and to the right," he said.

Susan meekly walked in the bathroom and locked the door. Checking the vents and the overhead light for a hidden camera before undressing, she removed her clothes, turned on the shower, and washed herself. Having been a few days since she showered last, she took a long, hot shower. Using the blow dryer to dry her hair and decorating herself with makeup, a luxury she hasn't had in a long time, she walked out of the bathroom looking like a different person. Sparkling clean with her makeup on and her blonde hair brushed, she looked beautiful. Judging her by her appearance, no one would believe that she was homeless.

"I'm ready to wash the bottles and cans for you now," she said with a smile. "Do you want to keep count or would you like me to do that?"

"We can count them all after they dry," he said.

Bottle after bottle and can after can, Susan washed the bottles and cans.

"I guess I collected more than I thought I did," she said with glee while dollars danced in her head. "I'm not even putting a dent in the bag and I've already washed 40 bottles and cans," she said keeping an unofficial count in her head while thinking of all the money she was making.

She watched him in her peripheral vision staring at her chest. Teasing him, she purposely chose a fitted, blouse that flattered her figure and highlighted her big breasts. A button blouse, the neckline was scooped low enough to show her long line of cleavage. She figured the jiggling motion of her tits moving around while washing cans and bottles would keep him interested.

"Remove your top please," he said staring at her big tits.

Not wasting any time, she couldn't believe he said that. If anything, she figured he'd get up from his chair, walk over to the sink, and feel her big tits through his wife's blouse. If anything, she figured he'd try to kiss her while feeling her.

"Pardon?"

She knew what he said. She heard him but she couldn't believe what he asked her to do. Calling her bluff, she was at a loss of what to do. It's one thing to tease him by wearing a low cut blouse but it's another thing to remove her clothes. Nonetheless her perplexity with her next move, she was as sexually excited as she was embarrassed that he asked her to remove her top.

She wanted him to see her in her bra as much as he wanted to see her in her bra, no doubt. Obviously, she was as sexually aroused as he was. It had been a long time since a man paid her this much sexual attention. It had been a long time since a man who hadn't come up behind her to grope her wanted to see her tits. Too busy trying to remove it for her, no man has ever asked her to remove her blouse.

"Remove your top please," he said again.

If only he knew how much she wanted to shed her top, no doubt, he'd think less of her. She was horny, no doubt, as horny as he was. She wanted to remove her top, no doubt as much as he wanted her to remove her top. Yet, if she just undressed at his command, he'd think her a slut. He'd think she was easy and, being that she was alone with him in his house, she didn't want him to think that.

"Remove my top? No, I don't think so," she said stopping her washing, turning off the water, and drying her hands before looking down at herself. In an attempt to make her big breasts look less conspicuous, she folded her arms across her breasts before turning to look at him. Only, with her breasts so big and even bigger in this tight blouse, there was just no way she could hide them. "Maybe I should go," she said reluctantly as if testing to see how he'd respond. "You can just pay me for what I've washed so far."

She had no intention of leaving. Excited to play this out by participating in his sexy, Earth Day game, she wanted to remove her top to stand there in Cynthia's bra while washing cans and bottles but she felt uncomfortable undressing in front of a stranger, a man old enough to be her father. She thought of all the times her brothers barged in her room while she was dressing and undressing in the hopes of seeing her tits. She remembered how her uncle and cousin groped her and had their wicked way with her and forced her to suck and fuck them when she was just an 18-year-old virgin. She recalled all the times her brothers got her drunk and touched her and felt her before coercing her to remove her blouse and bra while playing strip poker. Yet, this was different. He wasn't related to her by blood in the way her uncle, cousin, and brothers were. He was a kind man who was much nicer to her than her ex-husband ever was.

Maybe if she had a bit more incentive to motivate her to remove her top, she would. She'd love nothing better than to show him what she looks like in his wife's sexy blue bra. It was just a bra after all and it's the least she could do to pay back his kindness for allowing her to use his bathroom and wear his deceased wife's clothes. She's shown more when she used to wear her barely there bikini on the beach before accidentally on purpose losing her bikini top. She's shown so much more when giving men down blouse views of her tits and flashing truckers her breasts on the highway. Knowing full well they were standing there watching, a captive audience when not closing the curtain all the way, she's shown her tits when trying on bras in a dressing room that still had a curtain while bored boyfriends and husband waited outside for their girlfriends and wives.




Cleaning Cans and Bottles Topless



"Please don't leave," he said with a sad face. "What if I doubled what I'm paying you as compensation for you to remove your top. How about that? I'll give you two dollars for every bottle and can you wash while wearing your bra," he said while looking at her with expectant hopefulness.

"Two dollars? Seriously? You'll pay me two dollars for every can and bottle that I wash in my bra?" There was her incentive and her reason not to be deemed a slut but just needing the money. "That's a lot of money Michael just for me to wash bottles and cans in your kitchen while wearing my bra." 

No matter her sudden sexual excitement and no matter the prospect of being paid two dollars for each can and bottle she washed, she looked at him as if there was something wrong with him. Offering her a lot of money, what's the big deal about wanting to see her in her bra enough to pay her two dollars a bottle and can? Glad that she's a woman, as long as she lives, she'll never understand men and their fixation with her breasts.

"You'd make a sixty-four year old man very happy watching you washing bottles and cans without your top," he said. "It's been a long time since I've had any contact with a woman," he said staring at her breasts while talking to her breasts through Cynthia's blouse. "I'd love to see what you look like in Cynthia's bra," he said fingering the head of his cock through his pants. 

When he started touching himself in the way that she wished she could touch him, he was making her horny. Feeling a sudden sexual wickedness overtake her commonsense and a familiar wetness between her legs heat up her sexual passion, she looked at him to see if he was just horny and not crazy. She could handle horny but she couldn't deal with crazy. She's already dealt with enough crazy at the shelter, at the mission, and on the streets.

"Lemme get this straight. Just so that I understand Michael. If I remove my top and wash bottles and cans in Cynthia's bra, you'll pay me two dollars for every bottle and can that I wash? Is that it?"

"Yes," he said. "Including the cans and bottles you've already washed, I'll give you two dollars for every bottle and can that you wash."

"And you won't try to touch me, feel me, grope me, and fondle my breasts and finger my nipples through my bra?"

Dizzy with sexual excitement when she said that about him feeling her breasts and fingering her nipples through her bra, she wished he would try to cop a cheap feel of her big tits through his wife's bra. For two dollars a bottle and can, she'd allow him to have his wicked way with her tits. Obviously for him to offer two dollars a can and bottle, he wants to see her bra clad tits as much as she wants to show him her bra clad tits. It's been a long time since a man that she wanted to feel her felt her in that sexual way. It's been even longer since a man fingered her nipples through her bra. Even before she was homeless, when she was cleanly washed and neatly dressed, it's been years since she's felt attractive enough to want a man to touch her and to see her in her bra.

She thought of all the times her ex beat her, pushed her down the stairs, swore at her, spit at her, and called her names that made her feel worthless. Trapped in a bad marriage with a controlling man, being that she was already a victim of sexual abuse, he knew which buttons to push to hurt her the most. Now that he so kindly asked her and was willing to pay her double the agreed price, she wanted to wash the bottles and cans in her bra, especially after he sweetened the deal by doubling the price. She could use the money to set something aside for a rainy day when she couldn't be out collecting bottles and cans. She's have to collect a lot of bottles and cans to earn the money he was willing to pay her just for removing her top and cleaning the cans and bottles in her bra.

Nonetheless, his generosity and kindness, she still felt a little icky removing her top for money. She'd feel that she was prostituting herself. Yet, what was the harm done by her posing for him in her bra? She's done more for less. Being that she's an exhibitionist, plenty of men have seen her in her bra, topless, and naked even.

If only he knew, with just a bit more persuasion, she'd willingly show him every naked part of her body for free. For free, she'd strip off her clothes and allow him to touch her, feel her, fondle her, and caress her. For free, she'd allow him to fuck her after she sucked him. She's been so horny and it's been such a long time since she felt a man inside of her.

"I promise that I won't try to touch you. I'll just sit here quietly while watching you washing your bottles and cans in Cynthia's bra," he said holding his hands up in the air as if he was surrendering to the sexual censor police. "I promise not to feel you, grope you, or fondle you through your bra."

Disappointed by his promise not to feel her, grope her, and fondle her through her bra, she looked at him still staring at her breasts. Just by the heat of his stare, she could feel a familiar wetness between her legs again and her nipples were pushing hard against Cynthia's tight D cup bra. With his leers, he made her feel sexy. With his stares, he made her feel like a woman. Unlike the younger men who just grabbed and groped her, with him having the soave faire of an older man, he took the time to appreciate her and to seduce her.

Before looking to see what he was staring at, as if she didn't know already, she looked down at herself and the huge impressions of her nipples were showing through her bra and blouse. Excited to see his reaction, already aroused enough to oblige him, she couldn't wait to show him what she looked like standing there in his wife's brassiere. With no man able to resist feeling her big boobs, would he be true to his word and look without touching and feeling? She was more than curious to know if he could control himself from feeling her big tits before fingering her erect nipples. It's been a long time since she's been touched in that way and even longer since she wanted to be touched in that way.

"Okay," she said turning to face him.

"Wonderful," he said.

She looked at him. He was such an appreciative audience. If he was seducing her by his interest, it was working. Not a bad looking man, if she knew who her father was, she'd want him to look like him. Suddenly, she became more aroused with the thought that she was undressing in front of her father, whomever he was. One slow button at a time, she slowly unbuttoned her blouse and paused at each unbuttoned button to watch his reaction to seeing her cleavage and her bra clad breasts.

"I'm a little embarrassed," she said after she unbuttoned the first button and opened the blouse enough for him to see her long, line of cleavage and the roundness of her abundant breasts that overflowed her bra cups.

With him never removing his eyes from her breasts, truth be known, she was more sexually aroused than she was embarrassed. It's been a long time since she had control over a man just by her flashing him her bra and she enjoyed the feeling of him staring at what she was showing him. She could only imagine how grateful he'd be if she stripped naked and gave him hot sex. Maybe instead of being with a younger man and a man her own age, it was time for her to consider an older man. For sure, if he was representative of older men, he treated her so very much better than her ex-husband ever did.

"Don't be embarrassed. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You're so beautiful. You're so sexy. Having a much better body, you're so much more woman than was my Cynthia," he said. "Besides, seeing no more of you than if you were at the beach in your bikini top, it's just your bra. It isn't as if you're topless," he said showing a little more sexual excitement when he uttered the word topless. Judging by his sudden sexual excitement, obviously, he was hoping to see her topless.

When he said the word topless, she imagined surprising him by removing her bra to flash him her tits. She could only imagine his sexually excited reaction to seeing his big tits. Having never known her father, she had the sudden urge to call him Daddy. As if he was her Dad, she imagined herself having a conversation with her father that many women imagine having while masturbating.

'How do you like my big tits Daddy? Would you like to touch them, feel them, and finger my nipples before sucking them Daddy? What if I suck your cock while you play with my big tits Daddy? Would you like that Daddy? Would you like for me to suck your cock Daddy? Would you like to cum in my mouth and watch me swallow Daddy? Maybe later you can fuck me too Daddy,' She imagined asking Michael all of those questions.

More than willing to remove her top to pose for him in her bra while washing bottles and cans, she was so very horny. No doubt thinking that she was going to change her mind and not remove her top, he gave her a look of utter disappointment. Not wanting to disappoint him and wanting to have a little fun for herself to give her something to masturbate over later while sleeping in her cot at the shelter, she continued unbuttoning her blouse.

"Well for two dollars a can and bottle, here goes," she said with her fingers poised on her next button. "Right?"

"Yes, I will gladly pay you two dollars a bottle and can for every bottle and can that you wash while wearing your bra," he said. "And let's hope you spill some water on your bra too for me to get a peek of your big nipples.

Ignoring his salacious comment, he continued arousing her with the eroticism of his voice and the choice of his words. Wanting to show him her nipples, she imagined showing him her nipples. She imagined his fingers fingering, pulling, turning, and twisting her big nipples before taking them in his mouth to suck. While thinking of showing him her nipples, she unbuttoned all five buttons and flayed open the blouse for him to see her bra covered breasts. She looked down at herself to see what he could see and because his wife's bra was so low cut, the tops of her areolas were clearly visible especially when she'd be leaning forward to wash her cans and bottles. Should he get up from his chair and stand over her, she wondered if he could see her nipples.

"Wow, Susan, you have big tits. Take it off. Take off the blouse. Hand it to me," he said. "I'm so glad you chose that particular brassier to wear. That was one of my favorites bras that Cynthia wore," he said. 

"Why this one? Was this bra your wife's favorite?"

"The reason why that bra is one of my favorite bras is, I hope I don't offend you, but because the bra is so low cut, I can actually see the tops of your pink areolas. You have such beautiful breasts, he said with a devious smile. "Also, if you don't mind me saying so, I can actually see your big, pink nipples peeking out through the sheer and nearly transparent lace," he said with a devilish, little grin.

Becoming even more aroused that he could see her the tops of her areolas and get a glimpse of her pink nipples through the bra, she looked down at herself and at all that she was showing him and at all that he could see of her before removing her blouse and handing it to him. Embarrassed as much as she was sexually excited that he could discern her the tops of her areolas and see her nipples through his wife's brassiere, she folded her arms across her breasts again while he took possession of her blouse and placed it over the kitchen chair.

"It's a little chilly in here," she said after noticing her nipples making their erect appearance by pushing up against her sheer bra.

The fact that he could see part of her areolas made her feel sexy. She needs to wear this bra when wearing a low cut blouse while riding the bus or the train. Just thinking of flashing men her areolas made her feel wicked horny.

"I'll turn up the heat," he said. "I don't want you to be cold, my dear."

"Thank you," she said.

They remained silent while she washed more bottles and cans and while he stared at her bra clad breasts, areolas, and nipples. After she had washed another two dozen or so he spoke again.

"Susan?"

"Yes?"

As if he had fallen in love with her, he stared in her blue eyes as if he was about to stand, take her in his arms, and kiss her. In the aroused state she was in by washing bottles and cans in her bra, she would have allowed him to kiss her. Even though he was much older than she was, old enough to be her father, she would have allowed him to part her lips with his tongue and French kiss her. Even though he was much older than she was, she would have allowed him to feel her breasts and finger her nipples through his wife's bra while kissing her before allowing him to stick his hand down her bra to fondle her tits and finger her nipples. She couldn't remember the last time she kissed anyone, really kissed someone special. She couldn't remember the last time she wanted someone enough to want them to kiss her while feeling her.

"I'll give you three dollars for every can and bottle you wash and that you've already washed if you..."

"If I what?"

Not allowing him to finish, already so sexually excited by what he was going to ask her, she knew what he wanted and what he was going to ask. So predictably transparent just like all the men in her life whether young or old and blood related or not, she knew what he was going to ask only she didn't know how she'd respond until he asked her the question. No doubt, he wanted to see her big tits. No doubt, he wanted her to wash cans and bottles topless. No doubt, he wanted to touch, feel, fondle, caress her big tits before sucking her big nipples. No doubt, he'd be offering her four dollars a bottle and can to do just that.

What would she do? Would she feign embarrassment while removing her bra? Would she act insulted? Would she act coyly sexy? Would put her blouse on and pretend to leave or would she oblige him by removing her bra and allow him to have his wicked way with her big breasts?

"If you remove your bra," he said staring up at her. "I'll gladly pay you three dollars for every can and bottle, including the ones you've already washed, for cleaning cans and bottles without your bra."

Instead of sexy, a bit more than that, this was erotic. Even though he was an older gentleman, perhaps because he was an older gentlemen, she felt a bit like a Victorian young virgin being lusted over by a wealthy gentlemen. Only, more sexual than that, she felt like Holly Hunter when she played Ada McGrath in Piano against Harvey Keitel as George Baines. If he had a piano, being that she knows how to play, she'd play the piano while wearing one of his wife's short skirts without panties while he crawled beneath the piano to look between her legs at all that she was showing. If he was willing to pay her three dollars a can and bottle to wash her recyclables topless, she wondered what he'd pay her to see her pussy, to finger her pussy, and to lick her pussy.

"You want me to wash bottles and cans topless Michael? Is that it?"

Just the sexy thought of being topless in front of a man she had just met not more than an hour ago and who was old enough to be her father, sexually excited her for some reason. She had never known her father. Being that her mother was a prostitute and a drunken, incestuous slut who routinely had sex with all four of her brothers over a twenty year period, she suspected that her biological father was one of her brothers. With that thought in mind, she wondered, if this man was her brother and/or her father instead of a stranger, if she'd be so accommodating to his luridly lewd, lascivious request to see her tits. Even though she was horny, even though she wanted to show him her tits, she struggled with the idea of removing her bra, especially removing her bra for money.

Without doubt, if he were her uncle, her cousin, or one of her brothers asking to see her tits, since she's already shown them all her tits when having sex with all of them, no doubt, she'd show him her tits. Whether he was a stranger or one of her blood relatives, what difference did it make? At least today, instead of being forced in the way she was when her brothers stripped her naked and saw her tits, she was being paid for the striptease.

"Yes," he said. "I'd like for you to wash the rest of the bottles and cans topless."

Considering removing her bra, she looked at him while wondering what would happen once she removed her bra. Would he try and touch her, feel her, and fondle her breasts while fingering her nipples as she washed the rest of the bottles and cans or would he remain seated by the kitchen table? She wouldn't know the answer to her question until she removed her bra. She the thought of removing her bra and showing him her tits made her horny. As if he was Burt Lancaster and she was Susan Sarandon in the movie Atlantic City and she was washing her breasts with lemons instead of washing cans and bottles with water, she wanted to give him a sexy show.

"Let me see the money first," she said.

As if he was a player ready to play Blackjack at a Casino, he pulled out a wad of hundred dollar bills, peeled off three, and put them on the table. 

"Here," he said handing her three, one-hundred-dollar bills. "This should cover all the cans and bottles that you have in your bag. If it turns out that you have more than one hundred bottles and cans in the big green bag and, by my guess, I'm guessing you do, I'll gladly pay you the rest for the sexy pleasure of seeing your big boobs."

"Okay, but no touching my tits," she said giving him the sexy eye as if daring him to feel her, fondle her, grope her, and caress her.

Having not even removed her bra, she was already very horny. Figuring, if only by his age, that he was more experienced and worldly than a young man, she imagined his mature hands feeling her tits and his experienced fingers fingering her nipples instead of groping her tits and nipples in the way that the younger men do.

"I won't touch you. I'll just look. I promise. I'll sit right here while watching you wash the redeposits," he said.

Oddly enough, she felt disappointment by his promise not to touch her. If she was going through the trouble of removing her blouse and bra, obviously, she not only wanted to be touched and felt, she was hoping he'd suck her big tits too. After all the incestuous sexual abuse she suffered, if he were to feel and fondle her tits while sucking her tits, no doubt, she'd imagine that he was her father feeling, fondling, and sucking her tits. Now or never, she needed to make her decision. Either she was going to remove her bra or she wasn't.

"Okay," she said. "I'll do it for three dollars a can and bottom, including the ones already washed."

"Agreed," he said. "I'll pay you three dollars a can and bottle for you to remove your bra."

Turning first to face him, she reached around herself and unhooked her bra. As if there was sexy stripping music playing in her head, adding to the suspenseful, sexual drama by teasing him as if she was a stripper on stage, she removed one slow bra strap at a time before peeling off her bra cups from her tits one bra cup at a time. As soon as she was topless, she closed her eyes, took a step closer to him, threw back her shoulders, and stuck out her bare chest. When she opened her eyes she looked down at all that he could see of her. When her eyes were closed, she was hoping that she'd surprise her by feeling her tits but, true to his word as a gentleman, he didn't touch her.

"Wow," he said. "You have spectacular breasts. I thought Cynthia had beautiful breasts but your breasts are not only bigger and higher up but also shapelier. I can't believe how big your nipples are. I just love your big tits Susan."

"Thank you," she said looking down at herself before looking back at him again. She wished there was a mirror so that she could see all that he could see. "I'm embarrassed," she said. She cupped her breasts in her hands in the way that Jamie Curtis did when playing the prostitute Ophelia in the movie, Trading Places, when Dan Aykroyd as Louis Winthorpe III, stared at her exposed breasts.




Cleaning Cans and Bottles Topless



"Don't be embarrassed Susan," he said watching her slowly removing her hands while he stared at her breasts. "If you don't mind," he said fingering the head of his cock again through his pants. "Just do me one small favor."

"What?"

"Lean forward for me and turn just a little to the side. I'd like to see what your big boobs look like hanging down as if your breasts were hanging down in my face," he said not removing his eyes from her naked breasts. 

He seemed so enamored with her breasts and with her enjoying the sexual attention, how could she possibly refuse his request? At this point with him satisfying as much of her sexual horniness as she was his and while he was paying her to do so, how could she possibly refuse him?

"Okay," she said bending a little at the waist for her tits to fall forward.

"Amazing," he said. "Just amazing. You have amazing breasts. I just love your big tits Susan."

"Thank you," she said. "I can't believe how much my nipples are sticking out," she said looking down at herself again and putting her hands over her nipples before looking up at him again. "I must be cold," she said ignoring her sexual excitement by not admitting that she was sexually aroused by his stares.

Remaining silent while staring at her naked breasts. He watched her natural tits jiggle with every movement she made to wash her bottles and cans. He stayed like that while watching her wash another dozen or so bottles and cans before he spoke again.

"You have enormous nipples," he said staring at her breasts as if he had never seen a woman's breasts before. "May I?"

Finally, she figured he wanted to touch her tits. She figured he wanted to feel, fondle, and caress her big breasts while fingering, pulling, turning, and twisting her nipples. She figured he wanted to suck her breast. Only, she was stunned by what he was asking her permission to do.

'May you what?' She thought to herself before answering him. Definitely, if what he was asking to do was to feel her tits and finger her nipples before sucking her nipples, she'd let him for another dollar a can and bottle. Four dollars a can and bottle to clean every can and bottle seemed about the right price for him to have his wicked way with her tits.

"May you what?" She looked at him staring at her breasts as if the way that she was imagining counting the pile of money that he was going to give her for her showing him her breasts.

"May I--" he said again this time looking down at his crotch.

Now figuring that he wanted her to touch his cock through his pants while he touched her breast, felt her breasts, fondled her breasts, and sucked her nipples, before having her suck him, she interrupted him before he finished. Now that she was standing there topless, she'd allow him to touch and caress her breasts if he'd ask but she wasn't about to give this old man a blowjob. At most, she'd give him a hand job, so long as he continued upping the price agreed for her to clean each can and bottle. Five dollars to wash every can and bottle seemed a fair price for seeing and feeling her tits while she stroked his cock.

"Sure go ahead. You have my permission," she said pushing her shoulders back to stick out her chest more.

She couldn't wait to feel his hands on her breasts. She couldn't wait for him to finger her nipples before sucking her nipples. She couldn't want to feel his cock through his pants while he fondled her big tits. Only, he surprised her when he didn't stand to touch and feel her breasts. Instead, he unzipped himself, pulled out his cock, and started stroking himself. The permission he asked was not to feel her big tits and suck her big nipples but was to masturbate in front of her while she watched. Relieved albeit disappointed that his masturbation was more about him than her, she would have welcomed some sexual attention too.

"Don't worry," he said. "I won't ask you for sex. This is good enough for me, watching you wash bottles and cans topless while I masturbate. Ever since Cynthia..." he said not finishing his thought. "I've been masturbating a lot." 

Disappointed that he wanted to play with himself rather than to feel her tits, she thought that he was asking her permission to touch her big breasts, feel her big breasts, fondle her big breasts, caress her big breasts, and suck her big breasts but he wasn't. Instead, she couldn't believe he was masturbating in front of her. In the way he had been staring at her breasts all this time, long before she was even topless, now she stared at his cock. It had been a long while since she had seen an excited prick, even a sixty-something-year-old prick and just the sight of his huge cock made her sexually excited, so excited that she dropped one of the bottles in the sink. She was glad that it didn't break. A first time for everything, she had never watched a man masturbate before.

"You have a big prick Michael," she said using her compliment as her excuse to stare at his cock harder and longer.

Staring at her tits while stroking himself, he looked at her staring at his cock. 

"Thank you," he said. He remained silent while stroking himself and staring at her tits. "So absorbed in my sexual self-gratification, forgive me for being rude. You may feel my cock if you'd like," he said moving his hand away from his engorged prick and inviting her to touch him.

"I'd like that," she said turning off the water, drying her hands, and falling to her knees in front of him. "It's been a long while since I felt a hard cock in my hand."

She took his prick in her hand and felt the hardness of him before wrapping her fingers around him. Taking liberties with his prick by stroking him in the way he's already taking liberties with his tits by staring at them, she slowly stoked him to an even harder erection.

"Gees, that feels so good Susan. You have the perfect touch," he said looking down to watch her stroke him. "May I?" He looked at her before staring at her breasts and now she knew that he finally wanted to touch her, feel her, fondle her, and caress her breasts.

"Yes, I'd like that also," she said wrapping her fingers around his cock tighter while he cupped her breast in his hand, first one and then the other.

Stroking him a little faster, she enjoyed exciting him with her hand as much as he was exciting her with his fingers by slowly strumming her erect nipples as if strumming a guitar. Then, he started to really play with her nipples. Pulling them, turning them, and twisting them, he was enjoying himself. Fondling her breasts in between fingering her nipples, he was making her hot.

"You're breasts are so firm, so much firmer than Cynthia's breasts. Her breasts sagged much more than your breasts do," he said. "Granted, she was much older than you, of course. She was sixty-two. If you don't mind me asking, how old are you?"

"I'm forty. I'll be forty-one July 26th. I'm a Leo."

"You don't look forty. I would have thought you were younger, thirty-five at the most," he said.

"Please don't touch my nipples," she said knowing he'd continued to play with her nipples and as her excuse to suck him.

"Why not?" He continued fingering, pulling, turning, and twisting her nipples. "Are they sensitive? Are you getting your period?"

"No, it's not that. It's just that," she said looking up at his eyes before looking down at his cock. "You'd make me sexually excited fingering my nipples. I may do something that I'd regret later," she said running a slow tongue across her red, lipstick covered lips.

"I'll give you five dollars a bottle and can, if you take me in your mouth and suck my cock," he said looking from his prick to her lips with sexual excitement.

He ran a slow finger over her lips and she licked his finger before taking his finger in her mouth in the way she was about to take his cock in her mouth.

"I'd give you ten dollars a bottle and can if you'd allow me to cum in your mouth and if you swallow," he said reaching out to touch her long, lush blonde hair.

"That's more than a thousand dollars for a blowjob Michael," she said. "Is my blowing you worth that much to you?"

"To receive a blowjob from a woman who looks like you is money well spent," he said. "Money well spent." He looked at her in the way that no man has looked at her in a long time. No longer a woman when she was collecting bottles and cans in the alley, she was merely a bag lady, a homeless person. 

"I don't know Michael. You're tempting me to suck you. That's a lot of money to turn down," she said.

"Cynthia never allowed me to cum in her mouth. She seldom blew me. In all the years we were married, I could count on two hands how many times she took me in her mouth. Most times she didn't suck me until I ejaculated. Instead, she'd stop sucking me to masturbate me. As much as I loved her, getting a hand job is not nearly as good as getting a blowjob," he said. "It's been such a long time, years, since I've had a blowjob and, regretfully, I've never had a proper blowjob."

"I don't know Michael. This is getting too much like prostitution," she said. "Even though I'd love to have the money, I'm not comfortable sucking your for money."

"I won't tell if you don't," he said with a laugh. "Besides, this is just between us, two consenting adults. I'm happy to pay you a thousand dollars for a blowjob Susan."

She looked at his expectant eyes before looking at his big cock pulsating.

"Okay," she said lowering her head to his lap and taking his cock in her mouth. 

She was blowing him now. She was really sucking his cock. Thinking of the twelve hundred or so dollars he'd pay her just for washing cans and bottles, for flashing him her tits, and for stroking his cock before sucking his cock, she didn't view this behavior as prostitution, even though it was. As far as she was concerned, she was just cleaning cans and bottles topless.

She could feel his cock throbbing in her mouth. She could feel him getting already ready to cum. She stroked him faster and put more pressure on his cock with her lips while twirling her tongue around his big, hard prick while he fondled her big breasts and fingered her hard nipples.

"Oh my God. I'm going to cum," he said putting a gentle hand to the back of her head to pull her forward. "Don't stop. Please don't stop. Suck me Susan. Suck my cock. Blow me baby," he said.

She sucked him harder, she sucked him deeper, and she stroked him faster until he exploded a volume of cum in her mouth and she swallowed all of it before licking him clean as if she was washing a bottle neck with her tongue.

"I know this may sound forward and you don't have to give me your answer right away but would you like to live with me? We can spend the rest of our Earth Days together. Earth Day could be our anniversary. You won't have to collect anymore cans and bottles. You'll never have to clean another can and bottle. I have a dishwasher," he said with a laugh.

"Yes," she said.

THE END



Cleaning Cousin



Where to begin? I suppose with myself. At the time these events took place I was a 28 year old guy, divorced and living alone in a small house I had bought with my ex-wife. I got the house because she found out that if she took it she took the mortgage with it and God forbid the bitch would have to actually pay a bill herself. 

I had dated a couple of women after my divorce but frankly, I was so embittered by the whole thing that the only thing I wanted from a woman was between her legs and then only when I could have it without all the "buy me", "buy me" and "what are you thinking" bullshit that went with dating. I would rather just jerk off than put up with the crap. That is unless I got lucky with some slut in a bar and could walk away the next morning. My family was worried about me, worried that I would never marry again and all that shit. 

My story started one March evening when my mother called and told me that she noticed that I lived in a pigsty and I need someone to clean up after me. "So I took care of it for you. When you go to work on Saturday leave $20 and a spare key on the counter. Melissa will be over to clean for you. I'll meet her and let her in and she'll be gone before you get home. Then she'll be back every Saturday. All you have to do is leave the twenty on the counter. No arguments or I'll send your father over there and I'll come and clean." What else doses a son say to his mother but "Aw Mom!" and "Yes Mom".

Well I was not thrilled with the idea of having my little cousin rooting around thru my house while I was at work. But the place could use a cleaning and she would be gone before I got home. But the $20 could buy me a good bottle of Scotch. But what the hell, it was probably worth the $20 to keep Mom happy, off my back and out of my house, as she did not approve of my smoking, drinking and loose women. So I went with it and just kept my mouth shut.

Melissa was my cousin, my mother's sister's kid. I had not really seen her since I was about 20 and she, 10. So to me she was just this little kid who I barley remembered and who I was sure would report all the evidence of my sinful lifestyle to my Mother. I was not aware of what she had grown into. Other than my mothers occasional comments about how the poor kid had no life and worked hard, and unlike her older sister she had no dates and was not popular. So she was either a nerd or downright ugly. Well "not my problem"

The first Saturday came and I got home from work and the place was clean. I mean CLEAN. The mountain of dishes in the sink were gone, the trash was taken out, the month old sticky spilled beer on the floor was gone, the soap scum in the tub and sink were missing, my laundry done, folded and put away and clean sheets on the bed. I could even see the carpet in the living room and remembered that it was tan and not chocolate brown. I had to admit it was worth the $20. I then spied a note on the counter.

Bill

Thanks for the job, I really need the money. I hope I did Ok. I put your porno mags in the drawer in the living room and put the booze in the cabinet over the frig. Your ashtrays are washed and in the drawer. I put this stuff away so your Mom wouldn't see them when she came to pick me up and "inspect" and then bug you about it. After today I'll be taking the bus so she won't be dropping by anymore than normal. Thanks again

Melissa

Well the kid was not dumb at least, and maybe she wasn't going to be spying on me after all. This might work out not so bad. 

Over the next several weeks I settled into a comfortable routine with the cleaning thing. I left for work on Saturday left the money on the counter and came home to a clean house. I didn't even have to be embarrassed if I brought a slut home to fuck. The only change I made was to double her pay. Mostly because I felt guilty about how hard the kid was working to clean up after me. Nearly three months went by and I never saw the kid. She arrived after I left and was gone when I got home. I did not even think about her much except to leave the cash out on Friday night. Little did I know that I would start thinking about her a lot and soon.

It happened near the end of June. Earlier that month my mother called to remind me that Melissa was graduating High School that week and it would be nice if I got her a card. Ok, I can take a hint. What she meant was buy her a present or put some extra cash in the card. That made me think about the Kid not being such a kid anymore and briefly I wondered how she had developed. Then I slapped myself and reminded myself that this was my cousin I was imagining naked.

A few weeks later I was hosting a bachelor party for one of my poor deluded friends. He was getting married and anticipating wedded bliss to overtake him. NOT! Stupid sucker, getting pulled in like that, the least I could do was arrange a good send off as he departed for the world of matrimonial Hell.

I set up the party for a Friday night anticipating that it would run into early Saturday morning and most of us would need the rest of Saturday and Sunday to recover. I arranged to take Saturday off, set up the strippers / whores, the booze, and I talked a friend of mine into closing his restrant early and letting us use it, I figured I was all set. 

The appointed night came and it was a hell of a party everyone who wanted to, got blown or fucked at least once and we all got shitfaced drunk. A couple of us dropped the groom to be off at a hotel room with one or two of the girls around 5AM and then we went home. I don't remember how I got there or if I had anybody with me or not. I do remember waking up around 9AM naked in my bed with a killer hangover. I dragged my sorry ass out of bed and headed for the kitchen, the aspirin and something to wash the cotton mouth away, then back to bed. Once I was lying down again and the room stopped moving, I realized that I had bumped into a girl in the hall. "Well I guess I did not come home alone anyway." was my only thought before passing out again. I woke up again a few hours later felling a little more human and horny with a raging hardon. I lay in my bed in the darkened room and started to stoke myself. Not hard, just some gentle masturbation to get the blood moving. I laid there stoking slowing heading for heaven when a female voice said, "Whatever you had last night must have not been enough for you."

"Oh shit," I thought, "someone's watching me jerk off."

I looked up and saw a really cute and familiar looking brunette sitting in the chair across the room. It was hard to see her well in the dim sunlight that filtered through the drawn blinds. But I could tell that she was well put together. Wearing short jogging shorts that almost let her pussy lips hang out and a strap T shirt that was a size to small and really showed off her really nice well rounded tits.

"This must be what I brought home last night." flashed through my mind. "Not bad, I got lucky this time."

Out loud I said, "I thought you had gone, but since your still here why don't you come over and help me with this."

With that she got up from the chair and walked over and sat down on the bed. She seemed to hesitate for a second before she reached out and gently took my meat into her hand and began slowly stroking me. Now that my hands were free I reached up and traced the shape of her tit through her top and gently ran my finger over her tit until I reached her nipple. It was standing straight up hard as a rock and at least a half inch long. I took hold of it between my thumb and forefinger and gently pinched it. A shudder went through her entire body and I knew she was ready for more. I reached down and took the bottom of her shirt and pulled it up over her head. She was braless and her perfect breasts fell out and stood straight out, round and ripe.

I reached out and slowly kneaded her breast and pinched the nipple and she started these little mewing moans, all as she was stoking my cock up and down. After a minute or so of this I sat up and took her nipple into my mouth. Working it with my tongue, flicking back and forth while my hand slid down over her belly and into the waistband of her shorts. Then into her panties and down to the fuzz of her mound. Her lips were swollen and ready and her slit was oh so very wet. With my first pass down her slit with my finger I ran over her clit and elicited a groan and shudder. I let my finger find its way into her hole and started working it back and forth while the heel of my hand rubbed her mound and clit. Within seconds she blasted an orgasm drenching my hand, the bed, and her shorts. I thought she was going to yank my dick out by the roots she squeezed and pulled so hard.

As she finished her shuddering and leaned against me to catch her breath she whispered "That was the best I ever had and I am going to thank you for it properly."

"Why don't we get these wet pants off you first" I whispered back.

She stood up and slid pants and panties right down over her thighs and ankles revealing a perfect round ass.

"God, what a body, and she is so hot! Wherever I found this one I got to go back. I wish to hell I could remember" I thought.

Then without missing a beat she sat back down on the bed and dropped her mouth onto my cock. She ran her tongue around the head and slowly slid me into her mouth until I felt my head hit the back of her throat, and then she slid off and repeated the process. Up and down always with the steady sucking pressure. It was a fantastic blow job but I wanted more I wanted to get that pussy into my mouth. I reached down and pulled her legs up over my head so her sloppy wet pussy would be in my face.

It smelled wonderful, musky and sweet, and I had to taste it. I drove my tongue down directly into her and wiggled it around. She responded by mashing it into my face. I pulled it out and started running from her hole up to her clit and back again. All it took was three passes and she shuddered and came again this time nearly drowning me. I mean she came! I had heard about female ejaculation and even seen it in porno flicks but I never experienced it. It was like she pissed all over me. But what a turn on! I dove back in for more. I licked and sucked like a man possessed. I could not get enough of this ones sweet nectar. But while I worked on her she was sucking and stroking me for all she was worth. I felt the cum rising in my balls and racing up my dick. 
 She must have felt it too, as she pulled off until only my head was in her mouth. I shot stream after stream into her mouth and could feel her swallowing gulp after gulp of my cum. But she never got off my dick. She just kept sucking and I never even started to get soft. She just kept working me and I kept working her cunt like a starving man. 

A few more minutes and she finally slid off me and lay beside me. Now she reached over and kissed me like I haven't been kissed in a long time. Soft and slow with her tongue slowly sliding over mine and across my lips. Finally she broke it off and stared into my eyes and said "I want you to fuck me. Fuck me like I have always wanted to be fucked by you" 

At this point I was running on hormones I would have given anything this beautiful sexy woman asked of me, but what she asked was what I wanted to give her more than anything else. I wanted to feel my cock slide into her pussy, to be enveloped by her silken smoothness and feel her warm wet insides slide over my manhood. 

I leaned over and kissed her as softly and as slowly as she had kissed me while I slowly moved over on top of her. I got myself positioned between her legs with my still hard dick pointing at her honey hole. But I did not enter yet as I wanted to get in as far as possible I lifted her legs up and put them on my shoulders, only then did I push myself into her. I let it slide in deeper and deeper, slowly. When I got less than halfway in I felt resistance and she suddenly slammed down onto me for all she was worth, impaling herself on me with a groan. It was marvelous, wet and oh so very warm all encompassing my cock and the muscles of her pussy rippling over me. I did not even have to move to feel her. Not to tight so I could last long enough to give her pleasure and not to loose so I could have enough friction to enjoy myself. I slowly started to pump in and out slowly so she could get used to me and to prolong the pleasure for both of us.

It did not take long before her breathing became quick and shallow. I knew she was going to have another orgasm. I was curious to see if it was going to be another eruption of female ejaculate or just the ordinary everyday orgasm. I found out shortly as she grabbed the sheets beneath her and sprayed girl cum out all over us both. With my dick filling her hole is was like putting you finger in the garden hose. She squirted it all over. It was such a turn on to be fucking her and have her squirt up and hit me on the stomach, the chest, and in my face. It was just a few more strokes and I knew I was going to blow my load. But before I did I had to ask.

"I am going to cum. Can I cum inside or should I pull out?"

"Cum in me. I want to feel it fill me up." She answered.

With that I started to shoot again and again. It was while I was blowing my load I heard her say "It feels so good. I always wanted this. I always wanted your cum in me. Always wanted my handsome sexy cousin's cum in me."

Suddenly it was all crystal clear. Why she looked familiar. Why she acted like she had know me forever. I didn't meet her in a bar and bring her home last night. This was my cousin, my cleaning cousin and I had just fucked and sucked my cousin! The best sex I had had in years and it was with my cousin! 

What made it worse is I knew how wrong it was but I wanted her again even more, and again and again. Oh shit! I suddenly realized that I was in love with my cousin and wanted nothing more than to fuck her again and again.

What was I going to do? I'd probably be arrested and jailed as a cousin fucker, a seducer of innocent you cousins. Shit my life was over! Unless, we could keep the secret. Could we? Could we get away with it? There is no way I wanted to let this beautiful sexy creature get away from me. I would have to try to hide it.