Cleaning Lady

“I am in some real trouble,  
I have something to confess,  
My parents went on vacation,  
And the house is a real mess.”  
“Don’t worry sir,” the company said,  
“Our cleaners are the very best.”  

A stout woman arrived, twice my age,  
Somewhat matronly with strong limbs,  
A severe face, that could be pretty,  
If her demeanour was not quite so grim.  
She bore an immense bust and rear,  
And a waist that was strangely slim.  
 
“Let’s get to work,” she ordered,  
“We will start with the kitchen sink,  
This is quite some mess you’ve made here,  
You will have to help out I think,  
But before we get started here,  
I desperately need a drink!”  
 
So I raided my dad’s liquor cabinet,  
Poured some bourbon, two full shots  
We both downed them in a flash,  
Then I poured us two more lots,  
Now, feeling suitably lubricated,  
We both got busy scrubbing pots.  
 
Two hours later, the dishes were done,  
And the kitchen was sparkling clean,  
But in the process I’d wet my shirt,  
And somehow saturated jeans,  
“Take them off,” the cleaner barked,  
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing I haven’t seen.”  
 
Two more shots, then to the bathroom,  
Me, just wearing my simple briefs,  
“It’s so hot and humid,” the cleaner said,  
“I’m so uncomfortable, I need relief,”  
With that she stripped off her uniform,  
And her underwear beggared belief.  
 
She was dressed in a scarlet corset,  
Coloured to match her painted lips,  
Pulled painfully tight around her waist,  
But flared out around her hips,  
With industrial strength underwire,  
To support her enormous tits.  
 
I stood there frozen, startled, bewitched,  
By her ludicrously gigantic pair,  
“Don’t you have any manners?” She said,  
“Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?”  
But I was mesmerised by her cleavage,  
Squeezed by salacious underwear.  
 
She struck me with her cleaning wand,  
The sting broke me from my trance,  
“Get on with scrubbing the shower,  
No time for soppy teen romance!”  
So I got down on my hands and knees,  
And scrubbed in my underpants.  
 
I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed,  
For an hour on hands and knees,  
While the cleaner ordered me about,  
With her years of expertise,  
And every time I slacked off,  
I felt a sharp slap across my cheeks.  
 
The cleaner took great pleasure,  
In striking my bottom like a drum,  
She had me exactly where she wanted me,  
Placed firmly under thumb,  
At least the bathroom was spotless clean,  
Although my bottom was red and numb.  
 
She ordered me to the dining room,  
I obeyed as I was trained,  
She sauntered swilling bourbon,  
Her breasts barely contained,  
The underwire creaked and groaned,  
As to the limit it was strained.  
 
She ordered me from room to room,  
Cleaning and drinking as we went,  
When suddenly a loud snapping sound,  
Foreshadowed a calamitous event;  
Her heavy breasts came spilling out,  
As the underwire was bent.  
 
But she was completely unconcerned,  
She casually stripped away the rest,  
She ordered me to do the same,  
We both stood there, nude, undressed,  
My head bowed, yet she stood proudly,  
Sporting impossibly perky breasts.  
 
“Just the master bedroom now,” she said, With the majesty of a queen,  
But my parent’s room I had never used,  
It was neat, if not pristine,  
As if reading my thoughts she replied,  
“I’m filthy, you need to lick me clean.”  
 
With that she reclined upon the bed,  
Completely open, legs spread wide,  
In the centre her flower was blooming  
Like a pink glistening fleshy prize,  
Enticing me, coaxing me,  
To wedge my face between her thighs.  
 
“Oooh yes, lick me!” The cleaner moaned,  
“Long soft strokes, yes that’s it,  
“Now little circles, higher, higher,”  
She spasmed as I circled round her clit,  
“Slip your finger inside me,” she gasped,”  
She squelched wonderfully as I fingered her wet slit.  
 
“Curl your finger upwards, oooh yes,  
Stroke me gently, oooh that’s it,  
Keep licking, circles, circles,” she moaned,  
“Higher, higher, oooh yes, that’s my clit,”  
And so I licked and fingered her,  
While she cupped her massive tits.  
 
So there I was, wedged deep inside,  
My face pressed to her mound,  
My finger curling back and forth,  
While my tongue went round and round,  
I knew when I had my rhythm right,  
By her groaning breathless sounds.  
 
This position was really awkward for me,  
My strained neck began to hurt,  
Luckily she could not take much more,  
I could sense she was about to burst,  
Then through a serious of lewd convulsions,  
She began to squirt and squirt.  
 
With that she was up and dressed.  
“I’m off, my work here is complete,  
Don’t worry about a thing,” she said,  
“Our service is guaranteed discreet,  
There is just one last thing for you to do,  
You will have to change the sheets!”