Fit male, 30, able to host in private home (Prefer someone within an hour of Peterborough and the Kawartha's). scenario can be found below. Full complete details for the scene will be sent after discussing hard limits and aftercare. You can find answers to questions I get asked the most at the end as well, to save everyone time.

You saw an opportunity to make a few extra bucks. A light cleaning job, sweeping, dusting, mopping. The pay was good, the work seemed easy and all you had to do was wear something "Cute". No big deal, and kind of an exciting thought if you were being honest. You spoke with him, he was younger than you expected. In your head you had pictured someone older, someone creepier to be at the end of the posting. Everything seemed great! Three floors, three bedrooms, maybe two hours of work that paid almost as much as a full shift. It was the dream job to get you back on track and hopefully get ahead just a little bit. Even if this is the kind of thing that you never would do normally. Desperate times call for desperate measures right?

You arrive at the house. It looks much nicer than you had expected it to be from the outside. As was advised the garage door was left open. As you park you feel just a little nervous. You look down at yourself and again rethink the choice in your outfit. You had discussed wearing a small crop top and a skirt, or booty shorts. You do not know exactly why, but you found a top that was slightly translucent and your favorite skirt. Professional, but not so short that it was anything to be considered too slutty. Just long enough that if bending over to sweep or mop, there's enough left to the imagination without showing off too much. Which is where you find yourself most concerned. As you were getting ready, for your own personal amusement you thought it may be fun to leave the panties at home, at the time the idea was exciting, exhilarating and so out of character for you that you couldn't help getting a little carried away. Now that you are here, sitting in the driveway, the excitement has turned to panic. The rush of driving here, the idea of cleaning this house with the slim chance of exposing yourself to this stranger is gone now. You realize your hands are shaking non stop as you fumble with the doorknob and finally manage to get yourself in. Taking just a moment to compose yourself before yelling out to let him know that you are here.

He greets you with a smile. His hair was long, he stood not too tall at about 5 '10 maybe 5' 11. Broad shoulders and seemed to be in great shape. You noticed for just a moment the flash of a tattoo peeking out from under his shirt as he walked you through the house. The nerves are gone now, you feel at ease until he shows you to the porch. As he opens the door, the cold winter air comes at full force through the patio, it blows directly up your skirt and you find yourself again very aware of your clothing choice. You catch him taking a quick glimpse at your chest. The halter top was not that thick and the cold breeze had stiffened your nipples enough that it would have been all but impossible for him not to notice.

As if attempting not to embarrass you, or maybe you think he is just embarrassed that you caught him looking, he sums up the tour, shows you to the cleaning supplies and tells you he will let you get to work and to just holler if you need anything. As you get started you find yourself in a rhythm. Every once in a while, you can feel his eyes wandering to you, staring, learning, burning a hole through your clothes with his eyes when he thinks you are not looking. The excitement has come back with every glance. You find yourself going out of the way to put on the best possible show whenever he is within view. This is the kind of thing you had always fantasized about but never in your life did you think you could bring yourself to act like this, to move like this, to walk around this stranger's house, panty-less, breasts on full display and inviting this kind of attention from a stranger. You swear he must be able to see you dripping down your own thigh and are torn between continuing to put on this show and running straight home and using this moment, this feeling to bring yourself to orgasm the second you get to your room.

You put everything back to where he showed you it was. You take a step back looking at a job well done, excited for the cash you agreed upon and the pleasure this little adventure has brought to you. Already have thoughts in your mind about the next little outfit, daydreaming about if you should push it next time with something even more revealing. Maybe you will even get a little tip.

You were so lost in your thoughts you didn't realize he had been walking over to you, before long you could feel his presence and it snapped you out of it. Startled, you jump and turn towards him, about to let him know that you have finished, before he grabs you and pins you up against the wall. At this moment you think about the size difference you had noticed when you first walked through. Unable to speak, he tells you that you noticed the show you were putting on for him and how much he enjoyed it. How he thinks that there is a lot more for you to show him. You continue to struggle, to no avail. The more you do, the more he seems to be enjoying it. Almost laughing as he reaches for your top and tears it in one quick motion. You finally find the words in the back of your throat telling him that is not what you wanted. You say the show didn't mean this. He tells you that you will make a deal as he pushes you further up against the wall and starts to slide his hand up your skirt. Telling you that if your body doesn't want this, he will stop now. That's when you feel it, the betrayal of your own body. You've never been so wet as you are at this moment. You tell yourself it's not because of what is happening, but because of the excitement you had before... you think. Either way, he laughs as he shows you his hand, soaked and glistening as he tells you it doesn't seem that you want him to stop. As he says this, for a brief moment, you wonder if he is right…