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Babes

Chapter 1 Monday Hooray! My wife Sally is away on another sales trip. She’s a lovely lady who does her job well and earns much more money than I could, so I stay at home and do the housework. We are lucky enough to have a cleaning lady who comes in three times a week to “Do” for us. Sally doesn’t mind this, as she says that if she were at home and I was working she would employ a cleaner anyway. The cleaner does the heavy work, vacuuming, floors, washing up when needed, we tend to eat out a lot, breakfast being the only meal usually eaten at home. This is usually a light affair often no more than champagne and scrambled eggs, when Sally is home, or tea and toast for me when alone. Sal usually goes away for between one and two weeks, works hard selling formal wear to local dress shops, bridal wear, evening gowns, party and prom dresses, that sort of thing. Also of course the underwear that goes with it. Sal has an extensive wardrobe of her own, many of the dresses she buys from the fashion house she works for, at very heavily discounted prices and she often wears them when we go out for the evening. She has made several sales after people have met her and admired her clothes. She will also sell some of her own dresses, second-hand, to friends and family, which is a nice little sideline. So, Sally’s off again, fed and watered, and I won’t see her for a week or more. It’s early so I’ll have another cup of tea and think about what to do today. The cleaner’s due today (Monday) so about all I can do at the moment is inspect Sal’s wardrobe and undies drawers. Just have a look to see if there is anything new or any of my old favourites are still in there. There is also the laundry basket to check out, there’s usually a pretty skirt, blouse or some nice panties and camisoles in there. I have to play it cool while Sal is home, she has no idea that I cross dress in her clothes, but now she’s gone, I can allow my excitement to rise. There’s a lovely pair of satin cami knickers in the basket, near the bottom, so it must have been a couple of days since Sal wore them. Pale powder blue, white lace around the legs and little panels of lace at the sides, just under the waistband. Lovely! A quick sniff and the start of an erection, they are so soft and silky and would feel lovely against my stiff cock. Oh, to hell with it, they have Sal’s essence on them anyway. I wrap it around my tool and stroke gently, the silky material feeling cool and luxurious against the rapidly stiffening cock. I have time before the cleaner arrives, so I stroke harder, my knees begin to wobble and I kneel down on the floor, tip out the laundry basket in front of me, It’s mostly non sexy items in it, jeans, a couple of T shirts and a jumper, but there are also a couple of nylon half slips and a long blue one! Lots of lace and frills. Two white, and a pale blue one that matches the panties in my hand. Now I have to decide. Shall I carry on wanking into the panties or stop and put the pale blue slip on? The trouble is that if I do that I might get carried away and forget the time and the cleaning lady. The thought of her puts me off my stroke (Literally!) and I decide to stop what I’m doing altogether, but I whip my trousers down and take my boxers off, replacing them with the pale blue panties, then on go my trousers again, I decide not to put the slip on, though I’m very tempted, but it might be noticeable to the cleaner under my T shirt. Then I gently put all the clothes back into the laundry basket, including my boxers, which Escort bodrum must feel pretty lonely in there with all the soft feminine clothing. I feel as randy as hell of course, but I have to control myself, so I make a cup of tea and get a coffee ready for the cleaner, for when she arrives. I leave my tea on the kitchen table, wander upstairs to check out Sal’s wardrobes, she has two and three undies drawers. I open her “Formal” wardrobe, just in time to get a quick glance of the chiffon, satin and silk gowns before I hear the back door open and the cleaner arrive. The cleaner, Mrs T, is a good looking lady, about sixty years old, She’s always well dressed in what I suspect is either charity shop or supermarket clothing. Sensible in style, but smart none the less. She always brought her cleaning clothes in a carrier bag, to put on after she arrived. I allowed her to use our bedroom to change into her working clothes. Mrs T was not a happy lady that day, her washing machine had broken down a couple of days before and her washing was mounting up at home. We chatted around this problem for a few minutes, discussed the availability of launderettes, repair men and so on. The upshot of the conversation was that there is no laundrette in the area and the cost of repair put that out of the question. I suggested that she bring the washing around to our house and get it washed in our machine and that she could do that on her next cleaning day. She would have to do it in her own time though. She could do the wash while working of course, but she would have to work an extra hour after the washing was done. I was sure I could find something extra for her to do. Mrs T was so grateful for this offer that she gave me a kiss on the cheek, said “Thanks so very much” and got on with her cleaning. She stayed an extra ten minutes, doing an extra special job in gratitude, something I didn’t want her to do, as I kept getting raging erections as the lacy blue cami knickers rubbed against my cock. I had to keep sitting down, pretending to relax until the erection passed. The strange thing was that Mrs T seemed to look more attractive when I had the erection and I wondered what sort of underwear she was wearing and whether widows wore the same sort of undergarments as other ladies of that age. I had a flash of an idea that if she was still in mourning, that her underwear would be black. Black panties, or perhaps knickers, black bra, black petticoat perhaps? She wasn’t wearing black stockings or tights, they were tan, I wondered which, what about a suspender belt or corset? If she wore those, would they be black as well? Perhaps I would find the answer to some of these questions on Wednesday. Finally Mrs T left, saying that she would bring some of her washing with her next time she came. She said that there were about two washes and that she would have to play catch up to get it all done. So, I told her that would be another extra hour she would have to work and she said that that would be fine. Then she left, giving me a friendly wave. Alone at last! My prick was aching, as were my balls. I wanted to wank myself off in the panties there and then, in the kitchen, but decided that this was the time, but not the place, as the windows were wide open and the neighbours might see in, especially that nosey old boy who overlooked us. Mind you, I didn’t see much of him when Sally was away, but I couldn’t be too careful. I went upstairs when the erection subsided for a minute, I really didn’t Escort Kuşadası want to come in my blue panties yet, but when I thought of them and of the exploring I was about to do in Sal’s wardrobe. The erection came up again. I was out of control. I pulled my trousers down, then stripped off all my clothes, except for the panties, opened the wardrobe door, saw those lovely dresses hung up in there and I started to come. I didn’t really need to stroke myself, I just shot a load of cum into the panties, then falling to my knees, my face level with the dresses, I grabbed hold of my cock, wanked hard and shot spurt after spurt onto the wardrobe floor, my head fell forward and was engulfed in the long silky floaty dresses that smelled of Sally. My nostrils filled with her scent, my face in all those dresses, and me cumming in the panties and on the wardrobe floor. Oh what a mess, thank heaven I hadn’t soiled the dresses, that would have been a disaster, as much as I would have liked to, I had no way of cleaning them, and I couldn’t very well take them to the dry cleaners and ask them to clean off the cum stains could I? It had been an eventful day, so I removed the panties and had a long soak in the bath, then decided to call it a day, the washing could wait until tomorrow and there was little else I could do. So it was down the pub for me, a couple of pints and a deep and meaningful conversation about how to save the world, then home to bed for an early night. A good day I thought, I’ve helped someone out, met my mates down the pub and had a bloody good wank. I’ll miss Sally in a few days of course, but in the meantime I can have some fun on my own, in my own way. Chapter 2 Wednesday Not much of a day yesterday, I had a wank into one of Sally’s clean slips while still in bed, I had a lovely cum, but came all over the sheets instead of into the slip, so I had to wash the sheets as well as the other clothes. The rest of the day I did ordinary things, mowed the lawn, started to weed the drive and cleaned the inside of the car, a rather old, but good Mini, ideal for shopping, or for drives into the city. No good for Sal though, she drives an Audi Estate. Mrs T arrived as usual this morning, with a load of washing which she plonked on the kitchen floor. We had our usual drinks and she went upstairs to change into her work wear. A chance not to be missed, so I had a very quick look through her laundry bag. Fuck it! I thought, no undies, not even a pair of bloomers! Oh well, they would be “Sensible” anyway no doubt, and of no interest to me if that were the case. As I sat down again, Mrs T came in and said that she would put her washing in before starting work. I said, “Okay,” and she asked me to help her, as she didn’t know how to work the machine. I went into the laundry room to see her placing each item of clothing individually into the machine, in went a cotton blouse, in went a denim skirt, in went a nylon housecoat, in went everything, one item at a time and nothing exciting at all, no undies, no nighties or anything that could be anything but work wear. “Never mind,” I thought, “I’m just doing her a favour, I shouldn’t expect any reward (Except for the extra couple of hours work)” Eventually the machine was loaded and I showed her how to put the conditioner and powder in and how to set the dials for the sort of wash she wanted. The machine was well loaded, and I said to her that I hoped her second load on Friday wouldn’t be so big. “No,” she said, “That bodrum escort will be smaller, as it will mostly be my smalls,” as she put it. She said that her seventeen year-old grand daughter was staying for a week or so, so could she include her things in the next wash? I said that that would be okay, as long as everything could be done at the same time at the same setting. She said that there would be no problem there as her grand daughter wore light and flimsy clothing and her denim skirt and jeans would last a week without a wash anyway. There were only a couple of blouses, skirts and underwear of hers anyway. So the day continued, Mrs T did the cleaning and I allowed her to tumble dry the clothes before she went home, thanking me again for the use of the washer and drier and I even got another kiss, this one quickly on the lips, it was only brief, but I thought I sensed more in it than just an ordinary kiss. Oh well, a disappointing day, not the thrills that I expected. I can’t get thrilled with ladies everyday wear, especially that of one’s cleaning lady. Thursday was much the same as Tuesday, a wank, a couple of pints and an early night. Nothing on the television except for Americans killing each other, or Brits solving crimes in a more gentle way. Friday Mrs T arrived a bit early this morning, she said that if it was okay she would start and finish a bit earlier and the washing wouldn’t take too long as it was all “Light” stuff. Would I help her load the machine again? Thinking about her grand daughter’s underwear, I readily agreed.”Now,” she said, “I want you to pass me each item individually. I don’t want it to get tangled and stretched. Especially my grand daughter’s clothes.” I agreed to assist, with a stirring in my loins that I hadn’t felt for a day or two. It was like a lucky dip. I put my hand in the bag, pulled out something, the first thing was a satin skirt, all tangled up with a pair of tights. I was told to untangle the silky materials, before passing them on to Mrs T, who placed them in the machine. Next to come out of the bag was a pair of cotton knickers, large and well worn, the elastic beginning to stretch and next out was a similar sized pair of French knickers, almost new, with lace at the legs hem and silky soft. My erection was beginning to get painful, so I kneeled on the floor to hide it and to ease the strain a bit. “What on earth are you on your knees for?” Said Mrs T. “Do you find this hard work?” “More than you think,” I replied with a smile. “It’s a long time since I’ve had a man kneel before me,” she said, with a slight blush. “When was that?” I asked “Oh, years ago, before my husband died.” “At your betrothal? I asked. “Oh no,” she said, “A long time after that, but that‘s another story!” I continued sorting out the clothes, some were quite sexy, the suspender belts, one of Mrs T’s no doubt, was pretty and feminine, bit bigger and sturdier than the other. Mrs T’s was black, lace with satin at the tops of the straps, four straps on each side and three metal hooks & eyes at the back. The other, the grand daughter’s, was a much flimsier looking affair. It was white with a little blue ribbon sewn into the frilly elastic waist and elastic straps trimmed with the same blue as the waist. It only had two straps on each side. “Just right for a teenager,” I thought. Lots of goodies came out of the bag, there were several satin camisoles, a beautiful pale pink one, with matching knickers without lace. There was a bright red one, which could have passed as a nightie. There was also a long satin nightie, midnight blue, with cream lace around the bust and a matching pegnoir with lace collar and cuffs and a long satin belt went with it. My imagination was running wild, so many sexy things, mostly satin or chiffon, there was a lovely chiffon skirt.

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