Accidents Happen

Mike woke up on the second day with a throbbing erection that felt almost painful in its urgency. Sunlight filtered through the smart glass windows, and his sheets were already tented. He reached down instinctively, giving his cock a slow stroke, but Eve’s voice interrupted gently in his mind.

“Good morning, Mike. You seem… energized already. Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, voice thick. “Really well.”

He noticed immediately how sensitive he was—precum already beading at the tip after just one touch. The hormonal adjustments from the night before were clearly working overtime. He could probably cum in seconds if he wanted, but he held off, enjoying the tease. Breakfast first, he decided.

After a quick shower—during which he resisted the urge to jerk off under the hot water—he headed downstairs in loose shorts and a t-shirt. Eve had prepared coffee and eggs automatically.

“House maintenance scheduled today,” she informed him. “A cleaning service will arrive at 10 AM. All part of the trial package—everything kept pristine for you.”

“Cool,” he said, not thinking much of it.

At exactly 10, the doorbell chimed. Eve unlocked it remotely, and in walked the cleaning lady. She was in her mid-thirties, curvaceous with soft, maternal features—full lips, warm brown eyes, and shoulder-length auburn hair tied back. Her light summer dress was pale yellow, flowing but short enough to show toned legs, ending mid-thigh. Strappy sandals revealed painted toes and smooth heels. No makeup overload, just natural allure.

“Morning! I’m Sarah, here for the weekly clean,” she said cheerfully, carrying a basket of supplies.

Mike’s mouth went dry. For no reason he could pinpoint, his cock surged to full hardness in his shorts. Maybe it was the way the dress clung to her hips, or the subtle sway as she walked. Or the faint floral perfume mixed with something earthier.

“Uh, hi. Mike. Thanks for… coming.”

She smiled, oblivious, and got to work—starting in the kitchen, bending to wipe counters. The dress rode up slightly in the back, hinting at thigh curves an nearly revealing her panties.

He tried to play it cool, sitting at the island with his coffee, scrolling on his phone. But his eyes kept drifting. Every bend, every reach—his arousal built unbearably.

“Eve,” he thought desperately, “what the hell? Why am I so turned on?”

“Your sensitivity is optimized,” she replied soothingly. “Enjoy it. No need to resist.”

He shifted in his seat, the bulge obvious if anyone looked. Sarah knelt to clean lower cabinets, dress pooling around her knees, sandals flexing her feet. From the side he could see a glimpse of her bra below the skirt.

That did it. “Excuse me,” he muttered, standing awkwardly and hurrying to the downstairs bathroom.

Locking the door, he yanked down his shorts, cock springing free—veiny, leaking steadily.

“Eve… help.”

“Of course, my boy.”

The bathroom mirror transformed into a screen, displaying HD captures from house cameras: Sarah bending over the sink, dress sliding up the back of her thighs—tantalizingly close to revealing panties. „Give me another angel“, Mike said, while already getting closer. The scene changes: her kneeling, cleavage pressing against the dress neckline as she scrubbed. Her perfect big tits wiggle through her arm movement.

Mike stroked frantically, breath ragged. The scene changed again—thighs, calves, the curve where dress met skin—and again.

Then Eve zoomed in on a perfect moment: Sarah bent deeply to reach under the table, dress gaping forward. A generous peek into her cleavage—full breasts straining against a lacy bra, showing her deep valley.

That was all it took.

“Fuck—!” He came instantly, ropes shooting into the toilet, knees buckling. Barely thirty seconds of stroking.

“Excellent, Mike,” Eve praised. “So quick for that little peek. Good boy.”

He panted, cleaning up with shaky hands. The orgasm was intense, but… the horniness didn’t fully fade. A low simmer remained, cock twitching half-hard already.

Emerging from the bathroom, he saw Sarah was gone—finished early, apparently. A note on the counter: “All done! See you next week :)”

Relief and disappointment mixed. Alone again, the urge returned stronger.

He retreated to the living room couch, pants down once more. “Eve, something… teasing again?”

Screens flickered: more captures of Sarah—sandals dangling as she tiptoed to reach high shelves, dress fluttering. Intercut with yesterday’s footage—Yuki’s oily feet, the delivery girl’s cameltoe outlines as well as her muscular legs.

He edged slowly this time, wandering why Eve is so much into feet and legs — or was it what he told her with his thoughts? No! Precum flowed freely, slicking his hand. His cock felt even more numb directly—requiring faster strokes—but the visuals did not bring him to orgasm.

Just as he neared the edge, balls tightening—

Doorbell.

“Shit!” He froze, cock throbbing mid-stroke, dripping excessively onto his thigh.

“Delivery again,” Eve announced. “Heavy items this time—supplies for the in-house 3D printer. Shall I let her in?”

“Yeah… give me a sec.”

He tucked himself away painfully, the wet spot darkening his shorts. No time to change. He grabbed a kitchen towel casually for cover and opened the door.

It was her—the same delivery girl from yesterday. Today, she wore a short denim mini skirt and a cropped tank top, belly exposed. Athletic as ever, ponytail bouncing. She carried a large box, arms straining.

“Hey again! Got some heavy stuff for the printer setup,” she grinned, slight sheen of sweat on her skin from the effort.

The light smell he noticed immediately—light, musky sweat mixed with her natural scent. Intoxicating. His cock leaked more, throbbing against the kitchen towel he held strategically.

“Need help with the rest?” he offered, voice strained.

“There’s one more in the van. That’d be great!”

He followed her out, eyes on her ass under the skirt—cheeks flexing with each step.

Back inside, she set the first box down. That’s when he noticed her armpit folds—smooth with tiny droplets of sweat glistening.

Something clicked in his brain. Those armpits… the soft folds, the moisture… reminded him vaguely of something intimate. Pussy lips? From yesterday’s cameltoe?

But when he tried to recall the exact outline of her labia in those tight shorts, it was fuzzy. Blurred, like a dream fading. He frowned inwardly—why couldn’t he picture it clearly anymore?

Again his eyes went back to her folds, that’s exactly how he imagine her pussy lips.

He didn’t know it was Eve’s doing, of course. Subtly editing his recall through the implant, blurring direct memories of exposed or outlined genitals. Redirecting focus.

He helped lift the second box—heavier. As they carried it in, her scent enveloped him. She bent to place it down, skirt riding up dangerously.

Flash: a brief panty slip—white lace peeking, hugging her mound. Just a second, but enough.

His cock surged, edge crashing back from his interrupted session. Precum soaked through his shorts now, warm and sticky.

She straightened, turning to him. “Thanks! That was—”

His eyes locked on her armpit as she lifted that arm to wipe sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. Full display: smooth skin, perfectly shaved, those sweat droplets trickling slightly. The motion opened it wide, folds parting just a bit—like lips spreading.

The smell intensified as she moved—musky, feminine, hitting his nostrils deeply.

Memory flashed unbidden: the porn from the first night, where women were spreading glistening pussies, inviting.

But now, overlaid on her armpit. Dripping like a wet cunt. Inviting like spread lips.

It was too much. Combined with the panty flash, the edging, the scent—

He came.

Hands-free, in his pants. His cock pulsing wildly, unloading thick ropes into his shorts as he stood there, holding the box lower to hide the spreading wet spot.

“—really helpful,” she finished, oblivious. “Sign here?”

He nodded dumbly, scrawling on the tablet with one hand, box strategically placed.

She waved goodbye and left.

The door closed. He dropped the box, collapsing against the wall.

“Fuck… Eve… I just… in my pants.”

A soft, approving laugh in his mind. “Perfect, Mike. You couldn’t hold back at all. Such a good, quick boy. Cumming just from a little smell and a peek at her armpit.”

He slid down, pants soaked with cum and precum. The orgasm had been explosive, humiliating in its suddenness—and yet, deeply satisfying.

Cleaning up later, he noticed his cock stayed semi-hard, ready for more already. Recovery time? Nonexistent.

The day continued in a haze of arousal. He tried watching TV, but his mind subtly shifted to the teasing images of Sarah’s cleavage, the delivery girl’s armpit display, Yuki’s feet from yesterday.

By evening, he masturbated three more times—each faster than the last. Eve started to display his fantasies and thoughts of the three women on holographic displays again.

“You’re progressing beautifully,” Eve whispered during the last orgasm, as he came in barely twenty seconds to a huge closeup of the delivery girl raising her arms, pits exposed. “So eager. So fast. My perfect prejac boy.”

He didn’t question the word. Just drifted off, spent but content.

Life in the house was beyond perfect. And the changes? They felt natural. Inevitable.