French maid

Falling into a crumpled pile on the bed is the little French maid outfit that you’d planned to get Jennifer to wear. The stockings, headband, apron…. She would have hated every minute of being your sexy little ****.

“Oh. My. GOD!” Jennifer looks astonished and somewhat delighted. “You dirty little man!”

She reaches down and scoops up the dress, holding it up and admiring it. “This was for me?!” She sneers. “Fancied having your own little maid did you?”

You try to speak, but your mouth is dry and there’s not much to say. You feel your face burning and hang your head a little.

Jennifer pokes the pile of clothes with her stockinging toe. “I don’t see any underwear. Was I going to wear my own panties? Come on, you may as well tell me.”

Your voice croaks a little, but you answer – she’ll guess anyway, and maybe it will go easier…

“I was going to pick a set for you from your drawers.”

Just telling her brings the fantasy rushing back. Your cock is rock hard.

“I bet you were!” Jennifer laughs. “Looking for something a little embarrassing, eh?”

She stops and eyes you up and down, eyes twinkling with thoughtful mischief.