The Housekeeper Arrives

Elizabeth is lovely, both physically and character-wise. Her mum has raised her to be polite, considerate and she has an eye for detail that her mum has. She, like her mum, isn’t a 9:00-5:00 person, and she stays until the job’s done. 

We’ve given her a bedroom here that will be hers if she needs or wants to stay over, but she surprised us both by asking if she could live in during the week. That meant I had to have a sit down with her because I could see problems on the horizon if this wasn’t clearly spelled out now. 

“Elizabeth, you do understand that Emily and I are lovers?” She nodded…

“Well, you and Alison were, so there’s not much difference I guess.” (Told you she was observant.)

“Actually, there are differences…big ones. For a start, this is our home. If you live in, you will definitely hear us making love…having sex….and we don’t confine it to the bedroom either. You may find we want you to leave the room from time to time. Knowing you, you’ll pick up the vibes.” 

“That’s ok…er….could I have a TV in my room?” (I’d already ordered a 3d ultra-high def TV and blu-ray player for that room so that was a case of job done.)

“And you’re ok about the idea that there’s a very good chance, especially during the summer, that you might, well, catch us in the act?” 

“Yes….I’ve seen you before…at home….I know how to disappear.”

Well, I wish I’d known where and when….and who I was doing at the time. Maybe she’ll tell me one day. 

And so, last Monday, Elizabeth moved in. It had an effect on Emily who suddenly wanted to keep our sex quiet, but we need to carry on just as we have been. It’s not for us to amend or change anything. If Elizabeth isn’t comfortable, she needs to move out, or back home. It’s our home, after all. It took a couple of tries, but passion rules all, and soon Emily was back to her usual valuable self. 

We both agreed though the Elizabeth is strictly hands off. It would be tempting to try to entice her into our fun and games, but that would be intolerable…it would put unbearable pressure on her, and, frankly, we don’t want a live-in lover. 

That’s not to say we can’t tease each other about her though. 

On Wednesday, (wash day) I found a pair of pink cotton panties on the stairs….and they weren’t mine or Emily’s. I could hear the washing machine running and that could only mean Elizabeth dropped these as she carried a bundle of her clothes downstairs. Like her mum, she separates out the wash…undies are done on their own, separate from tops, and heavier items like pants or skirts…plus the usual colour separation of course. She, like her mum, is meticulous…and yes, it does matter. 

I picked them up and took them back upstairs, not with any sinister intent. I merely intended to drop them on the carpet in her room so she wouldn’t be embarrassed by me handing them to her. 

Ah, but then there’s Miss Brain, who is never one to miss out on a quick bit of perversity. She grabbed both eyeballs and made me look down. I swear, I just picked them up….I didn’t manipulate them in my hand in any way, but when I looked down, there was the crotch, looking up at me, in all it’s cum-stained glory….and my left thumb was right in the middle of the still moist mess. 

I did what I set out to do, flicking them through her partially opened door before scuttling, somewhat shame-faced to my room and closing the door behind me. I sat on the bed staring at my left thumb. The proper thing to do would be to wash my hands….but since when have I been ‘proper’? 

Before I knew it, Miss Brain was winding the cogs and gears and bringing the thumb up to my nose. Fresh, feminine, and unmistakably virginal. Now that I know for a fact. Elizabeth has never had a boyfriend, not even a casual one. The only hand that has ever been between her legs is her own.

“And last night” Miss Brain whispered “ you and Emily were particularly loud….almost like you wanted her to hear.” No, we didn’t…honestly….we were just….us. “Hm…well then. Perhaps it was just a happy accident.” 

Unlike smelling her panties for real, I was denied that faint, slightly acidic after hint of pee, but what I was smelling was pure cunt. I flopped back onto the bed, and jammed my right hand into my undies. This, I knew would be fast. I found myself well lubed up and my sex bean was rock solid, ready.

I took a deep inhale of the scent on my thumb and it brought me 90% of the way. The final 10% came when, like a baby, I sucked my thumb. There wouldn’t be much of her wetness there, but it was enough. I was tasting, however subliminally, genuine virgin cunt. 

I came noisily, and very, very wetly. Oh, how I adore cumming in my panties. I remembered a time when I was 15. I was in my bathroom at home, and wearing nothing but a pair of dark blue cotton panties. I was squatting down with my knees wide apart….I can’t remember why exactly, it just felt to me that there was something more ‘dirty’ about doing it in this position. I do remember that I had shed my school uniform like a snake sheds it’s skin, and looking down my body, taking in my tiny titties, and inhaling a day’s worth of sweat from over-heated classrooms. I just felt…dirty. 

I remember looking at myself in the bathroom mirror just as I came into my panties. I looked like a crouching frog, but what fascinated me was the way the material of the panties between my legs suddenly turned almost black as I came. I knew this wasn’t pee….I knew I had just seen what a good squirt does to a pair of undies….and I loved it. 

Just as the cum was tailing off, Miss Brain told me “And Elizabeth will hold these panties you’ve just cum in in her hand as she puts them in the washer. She will see the crotch and know you’ve just cum in them.” I glanced over at our wash hamper and saw it was still full. Ours next, then? The thought triggered a beautiful aftershock, and I felt that gorgeous feeling of a wave of liquid leave my cunt as it contracted. 

Standing up, I peeled my panties off. Oh they were wet to begin with but these two cums had deposited a lot of fresh girl cum in the crotch. 

Miss Brain promptly grew a pair of horns and a forked tail. I carefully arranged my panties so that the first thing Elizabeth would see….and smell….were my soaked undies, crotch side up, right on the top of the hamper. 

I lay back on my bed, legs crossed at the ankles, and skirt re-arranged. I planned to be there when she came for the hamper. But as I lay there, I began to have serious doubts about Elizabeth living in. We said we would give it a month’s trial. As much as she is gaining privacy, we are losing some, and that has already had an effect. Elizabeth might be ok with us fucking loudly…and anywhere in the house, but what about our more unusual perversities? What if she catches me or Emily peeing our panties, or peeing on each other, in the garden, say? I adore outside sexual activity, and I will be both masturbating and having sex with Emily in the garden as soon as it gets warm enough to do so.  That’s a big ask for a virgin. 

A soft double tap on the door made my heart leap…it was so like Alison’s. I said “come in” nice and cheerily. Elizabeth’s head poked round the door with a happy smile and announced “Laundry?” I pointed to the hamper. 

My heart was racing as she took the lid off and stared down at freshly cummed in undies. She reached her hand out and for a second I was convinced she was about to touch them, but instead, and even better, she scooped the whole lot up and held it against her chest….with my undies right on top! She simply had to be able to smell me. 

Between my legs, my cunt twitched. I looked at her as she left. Tall, a proportionate ‘b’ size boobs, and the perfect bum with visible panty line on her jeans. Maybe the jeans were a tiny bit small…if so, that seam must be pleasant for her. I had no way of telling what Color her panties were, or if she shaved or even trimmed, but I could well imagine her cunt lips caressing the material, and her wetness oozing gently into the material…maybe, just maybe the scent from me added a bit more. 

That’s the strange thing…I don’t think it matters particularly what your sexual orientation is. If you are in the presence of or witness to obvious sexual activity, it is arousing - even if only in a small way. One totally straight guy I know told me that he was invited to take part in a ‘circle jerk’. He said “I was shitting myself. I mean, I’m straight. How could I get it up with a bunch of other guys? But the moment I saw one of them get hard, and then another, I found myself wanting to…compete. I was as hard as I’ve ever been in my life.’ Go figure. 

I don’t know what it’s like for guys, but I do know that most girls get horny - even if they’re straight - if another girl starts masturbating at a sleepover. It doesn’t mean they’re lesbian or even bi…it’s just that sexual activity is, in and of itself, arousing. 

Miss Brain began speculating idly on how much Elizabeth masturbates. Has she had an orgasm under our roof yet? What does she fantasise about when she does. Is she still at the romantic, swept of her feet stage by some smouldering-eyed, tall, dark and handsome mysterious lover, or does she have darker thoughts, more primal? Has she shocked herself yet, by imaging what ‘nice’ girls (whoever they are) consider to be dirty by light of day, yet delicious under the duvet at night? 

I thought back to that pair of panties I found on the stairs. There was far more than a girl’s usual daily wetness there. This was way more than the odd little white streak. There could be no doubt that she had orgasmed in those pink panties. 

Ah….but thinking about what? 

Now that’s something I’d like to find out in time.