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. I closed my eyes, holding Jay as he set a faster pace. Our moans of pleasure mingled, becoming one voice. The faster Jay slammed into me, the wetter I became. I felt a tightening begin to take place. I told Jay how much I loved the feel of him inside me as I came. I looked up into his eyes just as he was looking down at me. Jay slowed his pace again, slowly pulling out, nearly leaving me completely, and then slowly entering me as deep as he could go. I knew he was allowing me to recover from. More

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