Tasteless Erotic Tales: Claro Que Sí


Her face was an essence of leather. Her palms -- pumice. But her soul was as soft as satin, her heart strings made of silk.

Her hips swayed as she dusted my countertops. Oh, how I wanted to drench her walls.

Her knuckles were twice the circumference of her weathered fingers. I watched as those fingers strode through my soiled linens — not afraid of what they’d find, but afraid of not folding a fitted sheet properly.

I wanted to proposition her, but I didn’t speak the language. I wouldn’t be able to tell if I would be asking her for a sensual encounter, or exclaiming that I needed to place a feral cat in the refrigerator. She had me stymied, and with no idea if she could sense the sexual tension engulfing us.



We would need to do this before noon so I could have her clean up the whoopee scent before my wife got home. It was 11:47, so I needed to act fast. I reached for her apron and with my other hand caressed her middle chin. She let out a tumbling “hMhein.” I felt my slacks de-slackening. I was so primed for pleasure. She reciprocated by dropping her dust wand and feeling for gig line.

I let out a chortle of delight.

I made sure to take the batteries out of the nanny cam. All that would be watching us was an offline teddy bear. And I was about to mortify him.

She unbuttoned my shirt, I tore through her hosiery. Her cleavage tasted like plantains. I lusted for her, she longed for me. Checking TD Ameritrade could wait 15 minutes longer.

Sweat began to emerge from my pores. She began to glisten. Our genitalia got to know each other. I was engorged, she was swollen. It was time.

Then Billy walked in. 

Thank God he was only a waddling toddler.

“What did I tell you about walking in when mommy and daddy were role playing?”

Billy let out a giggle.

Perhaps he understood what he didn't understand.


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