When my wife and I moved into our house two years ago, we had no idea how much effort was involved in keeping the house clean and tidy. We are not excessively messy people, but as two professionals working 60 hours a week, the last thing we wanted to do with our limited free time was clean. I had been working from home since Covid, and at first, I would make an effort during the day to do what I could, but that soon got tiresome.

A few months ago, over a dinner of Chinese takeout standing at the kitchen island, she proposed we get a maid service. My wife was pretty frugal, so I was surprised she suggested it, but I was all for getting the help. She had already decided on the company based on a recommendation by the neighbor with whom she would occasionally jog around the gated community.

I called the next day to set up the scheduling and answer a questionnaire about what services we would need. I wasn't as frugal as my wife, so I went ahead and got the deluxe package, which included every service. I didn't know at the time, but this meant the maid would be at our house for four hours a day twice a week. I picked Tuesdays and Thursdays as my schedule was usually not as full on these days.

The following Tuesday, my wife reminded me that the maid would be coming over between 10 and 11am and gave me a rundown of what she wanted the maid to do. I told her that I was sure they knew what to do as they were professional. My wife seemed skeptical of my ability to properly direct the maid on what to do, and my comment that she wouldn't want someone to tell her how to do her job upset her further. My wife left for work as I sat in my office. "I'll be home around 7pm today she called out from the hall with the frustration of the day already present in the tone of her voice."

The maid showed up at 10:30 am, and as I opened the door, I could see a small work van in the driveway with the company's logo. She was a mature Hispanic lady. Short and stocky with the typical long dark hair and brown eyes. She appeared to be in her late 40s, and her face indicated that she had worked hard most of her life. The uniform she was wearing was kind of a modern take on a maid's outfit, a hybrid of black nursing scrubs with subtle white trim on the sleeves that resembled a generic lace pattern. She looked exactly how you would expect a maid to look outside of some period drama or an adult film.

I let her in and showed her around, relaying the instructions my wife had given me. I soon noticed that she spoke very little English and nodded her head with a quick "Yes, Sir" after each pause in my instructions. As we walked through the house, I noticed my wife had moved anything she felt was valuable from its usual place. She didn't have the same trusting nature I did, but it surprised me that she assumed this lovely woman in a company uniform with a company vehicle would rob us while I was home on her first assignment. I finished showing her around and relaying the few instructions I could remember as she unpacked her cleaning supplies.

I went to my office, and she began working in the bathroom. Over the course of the day, I could hear her working and see her around the house when I went to the kitchen for a cup of tea or to the bathroom. Each time, she was diligently carrying out her tasks. The house has cameras in the common areas, and I checked them a few times during the day. She was always working hard on one area of the house or another. At around 4 pm, she quietly knocked on my office door, and I followed her to the kitchen area. She softly muttered that she had finished, and as I looked around the kitchen and living area, I was astonished. The whole house had been cleaned, and it looked just as it did when we first moved in. "It looks great," I told her as she gathered her supplies in a duffel bag embroidered with the company's logo. She went to the door, and I followed her to walk her out. As she was exiting, I said, "Thank you very much," and held out a $40 tip. At first, she motioned that it was unnecessary, but I put it in her hand, and she accepted it with a smile and a simple "Thank You, Sir."

When my wife got home, she went straight into inspecting the house and scrutinizing the maid's work. I knew she had assumed the service would not be worth the cost and would be ready to complain and tell me to cancel the service, so I was excited for her to see that not only was it worth it but that she was utterly misguided in her reservations and mistrust. She was indeed impressed and frankly ecstatic about the job the women had done. It was nice to see her in a good mood after coming home from work once.

The following Thursday, I opened the door and was surprised to see it was a new lady. I had assumed it would be the same one each time. She was also Hispanic and had similar features and the same lifetime of hard work look about her. She went to work just as the other had, and I didn't check on her as much throughout the day as I had the first lady. She did the same excellent work, and as before, my wife approved it when she got home. I omitted that it was a different lady this time as I didn't want to give her an excuse to be pessimistic about the outcome.

It became a routine occurrence after that. I would answer the door to a new woman each time. Most were Hispanic, and occasionally, it would be an Asian. They varied in age between early thirties and late forties. Some had slender figures, while some would be stocky. The younger ladies often had curvy bodies and wore makeup; a few were pretty attractive. Every time, it would be the same van, the same uniform and duffel bag, and the same outcome of an immaculate house once they finished. I would welcome them in, and they went about their work as I went about mine in my office. Each time, I would walk them out and hand them a $40 tip. My wife stopped inspecting after each visit, and it quickly became just another part of our life.

When I heard the doorbell, I had forgotten it was Tuesday. I got up from my chair and went to answer the door. I had no video meetings that day, so I wore what I had slept in, which was a plain T-shirt and my grew gym shorts. When I opened the door, I was surprised to see a familiar face. It was the first lady who had cleaned our house. She looked just as she did that first time. She smiled at me as I opened the door and greeted her. "It is nice to see you again." I offered only to receive a "Yes" in reply. I motioned her into the kitchen, and as I became accustomed to their presence, I went into my office to continue my work.

As I worked, my mind wandered to the woman, and I found myself growing curious about her. I didn't even know her name, which left me feeling a little guilty. Wanting to make up for it, I decided to take a moment to make small talk and offer a bit of hospitality. Since we had the service, the house didn't require as much cleaning as it had the first time, so I knew the workload would be light.

I went to the kitchen, but she wasn't there, so I ventured to the guest bathroom in the entryway. The door was open, and I could see she was leaning over, mopping around the back of the toilet. As I went to formally introduce myself, I noticed a rip in her pants along her right inner thigh. A small section of her white panties was visible, along with the supple, light brown skin of her inner thigh. I must have been staring because I felt her eyes lock onto mine in the mirror above the sink. Startled and ashamed, I quickly looked away. She stood up and turned to face me. Not knowing what to say, I pointed toward her crotch and fumbled through, "You have a rip in your pants." She could obviously see my embarrassment, but she also had a look of confusion spread across her face. Not knowing how to convey my message, I pointed at her and then turned and drew a line on my thigh where the rip was in her black fabric pants.

After a moment, she hiked up her top and twisted her body so she could see her backside in the mirror. The rip was easy to see at that angle, and even from my angle, I could see the exposed area where her butt stopped and her leg began. She tugged at the rip, and I could see even more of her inner thigh. I tried to hide that I was leering at the opening in the mirror, but her eyes caught mine again. She quickly pinched the rip closed and turned to me. "I'm sorry, sir," she said, her voice cracked from the embarrassment she was assuredly feeling. "No, I just noticed it and thought you should know." My reply was met with a blank stare and a quick "It's okay. I finish." We were both feeling the awkward tension in the small bathroom. Not knowing what to say, I smiled, walked out of the room, and went back to my office, where I remained the rest of the time she worked.

I was surprised she continued and finished her work. My wife would have dropped everything and rushed home from the pure embarrassment alone. I also felt terrible for her in a way. She was in a stranger's house with a man who was much larger than her, and that situation must have made her feel very vulnerable. I was also concerned that she would say something when she returned to their facilities, and they would cancel our contract, or even worse, my wife would find out, and I would have to explain the situation. In my wife's initial hiding of our valuables, she had put our petty cash in the drawer of my desk, and I knew I had at least a couple hundred dollars in there. I pulled out two hundred dollar bills and decided to give them to her as a tip to smooth over any misconceptions or uneasiness she had.

After a while, I heard her knock on my door, and I called out to her, "Come in." She entered, and I stood up with the cash in my hand. I was going to give it to her there and let her see herself out this time to avoid any more shame on my part. She came over and told me she had finished and noticed the money in my hand. She was a bit hesitant but took the money from my hand and held it in front of her as she counted it. "Tip?" She questioned, and I quickly replied, "Yes for you." She stood for a moment before sliding the money into her pocket. "I take care of you." Her words flustered me, and as I tried to wrap my mind around what that could mean, she reached down, pulled her shirt over her head, and dropped it to her side.

As she stood before me, my gaze quickly went to her breast, and my mind went blank. Her large breasts overflowed from her ill-fitting white bra. Her chubby belly showed her age, but at the same time, it looked soft and inviting. "You like?" She said in a soft, seductive tone I wouldn't have imagined her capable of. Dumbfounded, I replied, "Yes," as I stood frozen in place. With another smile, she reached behind her and, in a swift motion, unclasped her bra. It sprung open as the tension was released, and her massive breast dropped out the bottom. They hung naturally, the weight of the two large mounds giving them a gentle sag. Her large brown areolas were prominent, with a natural downward orientation.

"Touch," she offered, having completely removed her bra. I had never seen breasts so immense, and instinctively, I accepted her invitation. I cupped one breast in my hand and felt its weight in my hand. It was satiny and pliable. My other fingers caressed the bumps in her other areola before delicately teasing her pronounced, hard nipple. She stood before me, completely still and silent as I played with her breasts. I didn't know the extent of her offering, so I happily enjoyed fondling her breasts and running my hand over her pillowy stomach. I was stunned by how matter-of-factly she approached the situation. As I lightly pinched her nipples, I felt my cock start to press against my loose shorts. The thin fabric offered no concealment of my now erect penis, which her eyes had ventured to and remained fixed upon.

"Siéntate," she uttered, and I understood the command. I fell back into my chair with anticipation. My rock-hard member bulged between my legs. She braced herself with the armrests of my chair as she lowered herself to her knees before me. As she did, her breast swung over my waist, grazing at my cock, which caused it to twitch.

She pulled my waistband down and tucked it under my balls. This caused my manhood to spring forth from its shroud and stand before her in all its glory. I could tell the size caught her off guard as her eyes widened, and the smile returned to her face as she playfully remarked, "Paquete grande." I didn't know what the first word meant, but I could gather what she was implying. The language barrier previously felt like an obstacle, but now it enhanced my arousal.

She took her hand and ran it vertically down the backside of my shaft. Her fingers felt dry and rough, a side effect of her profession. She must have noticed how rough her hands were at that moment because she pulled away slightly. For a brief moment, I thought she had come to her senses and that my fun was over. She put her hands on my arms to brace as she rose up from her knees. I was unsure what she was doing, but as she ascended, she let her breast hang over my waist and gracefully moved her chest so her tits rubbed against my cock. She even guided one over my tip so her hard nipple brushed against it as she leaned over me. "Espera un momento," she pushed herself the rest of the way up. I had no idea what she had said, but her words sent a deep yearning through me. In any other time and place, I would not have paid any attention to her, nor would I have had any interest in her physically, but in the moment, I desired her touch deeply. As she walked out of the room, her ample backside, even with the minor flaws, commanded my attention and lust.

I heard her enter the bathroom next to my office and took a moment to reach down and feel the firmness of my dick. As she reentered the room carrying a small jar of my wife's overpriced lotion, her tits swayed and bounced as she walked. I was mesmerized and felt a deep need to take them into my hands again.

She got back down on her knees in front of me and pushed my legs open so she could get closer. As she opened the jar and applied a generous amount of lotion to her hands, she spoke again, "Better!" I responded without thinking, "Espanol." She giggled and quickly responded, "Sí señor, te voy a cuidar bien." I could tell by the emphasis and her slow delivery that she understood that the words I didn't comprehend had an undeniable effect on me.

She took her lubricated hands and ran her open palm down the length of the back of my shaft. As she alternated between hands, I felt my cock quickly become slick, and the coarseness of her skin had a new pleasing feel as her hands glided down my length. I leaned back in my chair, fully embracing her handy work as my firmness bounced back into her hand after each stroke.

After a minute or so, she wrapped her hand around my girth. Her fingertips clenched tightly at the base and squeezed firmly as they traveled purposefully up my shaft. Her eyes fixed on her hand as it slowly caressed my shaft as she emitted, "Tienes un pene muy lindo" in the same low, seductive tone. My muscles tensed as her words passed over my ears. She must have noticed this because she squeezed harder, and her free hand cupped around my balls. "Pelotas grandes y suaves." she offered as she began to massage my balls. Her hands felt amazing. Her touch was firm yet gentle as she curled her fingers around each one of my orbs, feeling their shape and size. She gave my sack a squeeze and rubbed against the firm area just below my balls. She used her thumb to firmly rub my taint as she cupped her hand over the top of my head. The light touch against my tip brought a potent feeling of sensitivity. As she circled her palm against my tip as if she were polishing an expensive statuette, the pleasure began to overwhelm me, and I squirmed in my chair, trying to get a quick reprieve from the intense sensation. She afforded me no relief as her hand followed the tip of my cock as it moved away as I shifted in my seat. "Puedo notar que estás disfrutando mucho esto." She spoke as her hand returned to massaging my balls.

The pleasure was immeasurable and far exceeded anything my wife had managed to give me with her hands in the entirety of my marriage. I couldn't believe this unassuming woman was capable of providing such a skilled and intense experience. She had melted me with her hands alone, and my mind wandered to what other pleasures her body could possibly offer. As I imagined my cock thrusting deep into her as I bent her over my desk, I felt my cock start to twitch. A telltale sign to both of us that I was going to erupt soon.

Her hands left my cock, and as I looked down to see why I saw her grasp the sides of her breasts. She leaned in and secured my cock between her soft pillowy breasts. They enveloped my cock as she pressed them tightly together. The warm skin wrapped around the entirety of my shaft and felt how I imagined her entrance would. She bounced her boobs up and down on my cock vigorously, slamming them into my thighs. I could tell she could feel the pulses of my fast-approaching orgasm because she increased the speed at which she guided them up and down my shaft. "Córrete para mí, grandote." she exclaimed, and I knew she was telling me to cum on her tits.

I felt the warm sensation move up from deep in my balls through my shaft as it shot out, only to be caught in the awaiting flesh of her bosom. "Eso es, cariño," she said in an encouraging tone as she continued to press me tightly between her breasts. Her words caused my next pulse to be even more intense, and I could now feel the wet warmth of my cum between the tip of my cock and her skin. She was careful to keep my head buried between her tits, ensuring none of my seed spilled out. "Dámelo todo," she spoke again. The pulses continued as the wet, sticky feeling increased. After what seemed like a minute of non-stop bursts, I felt a sense of satisfied relief wash over my body as it relaxed out of its tense state. I could feel my member start to soften, and she smiled at me before we both watched as she slowly spread her tits, revealing the mess I had made on her chest. My cum glistened between her chest, and the volume was not something I thought myself capable of. "Dios mío, eso es mucho. Debes haber estado muy cargado." She uttered as she inspected her chest and chuckled.

Her hand grasped my flaccid cock as her other hand cleaned off the residual cum from my shaft, careful while tending to the still sensitive head. Once she was satisfied it was clean, she wiped her hand across her chest, adding the cum to the bounty that already adorned her. "Nice?" She questioned me as she looked up at me with my manhood flopped over in her hand. "Very nice," I responded as I looked down at her. She seemed to be proud of her work as her eyes moved back to my mid-section. She leaned in and gave the tip a little kiss. "Handsome dick," I heard her mutter to it. She collected her bra and top and got up off her knees. She paused for a brief moment to allow me one last look at her bare chest before leaving the room.

I pulled my shorts up and sat mulling over what had just happened as I heard the sink running in the bathroom. After a minute or two, she returned to my office, fully clothed, just as if nothing had happened. She had brought me a bottle of water from the fridge and set it on my desk. "I go now." "Okay, thank you," I offered in response. As she entered the doorway, I called out to her. "Thursday?" She nodded. "I tell her," she said hurriedly as she walked out of the room. At first, I thought it was a miscommunication, but then I started to consider what she had meant. Why use those words if she was coming back on Thursday, and this was the first time a woman had come that had been here before. Did she mean she was going to tell the women who would be coming to give me the same uncataloged service?

For the rest of the afternoon, my mind wouldn't stop going back to her response and what it could possibly mean. I even looked more in-depth into the company to see if anyone had any similar experiences or if it was some kind of front. Everything about the place pointed to nothing more than a small local maid service that has been in business for twenty-plus years. Luckily, I noticed the jar of my wife's lotion on the floor by my desk as I investigated. That would have been hard to explain to my wife, and I returned it to the bathroom, which was spotless, just as it always was after the maid left.

When my wife got home, she asked me how the day was and if the maid had done a good job. I responded that it was a fairly typical day, and the maid came and went without much interaction. Later, she commented that the house didn't seem to be as clean as it had been previous times and quipped that the maid must have been slacking this time. I played it off and told her I had the maid do a deep cleaning in my office. She shrugged it off while I sat fixated on who and what Thursday would bring.

Thank you for reading this introduction to a series I have been planning for a while. I hope you enjoyed it. This part was pretty tame as I wanted to introduce a few of the characters and set the story in motion. I have a lot more salacious content planned, but it didn't feel natural to include it so early. Consider this more of a little tease of the slow burn to come. If you have any feedback or ideas for the series, feel free to let me know in the comments. I intend to do weekly updates to the series and would love to include some ideas for characters and or plot points people suggest.