Hand-job Alice

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When I first opened the front door I hardly even noticed her she was so tiny.Barely 5 feet tall, she was wearing bright orange sneakers with yellow ankle socks, a white T-shirt and the shortest blue denim shorts I’d ever seen. “Hi, I’m Alice, but most folk call me Ali,” she said by way of introduction, with a refreshingly open smile. “I’ve come about the home help job you’ve advertised in the corner grocery store. Is it still available?”“Why yes,” I stammered. “Err… why not come in for a coffee in the kitchen and I could tell you what’s involved.”“Is it ok to leave my bike against your fence?” She gestured towards a lime green cycle with white-walled tyres.“Sure. It’ll be quite safe there.” I led the way to the kitchen at the back of the cottage. “I’m Al, by the way.”I heard her give a little giggle as she followed me down the hall. “Ali and Al. That’s going to be a bit confusing, isn’t it? Maybe I’ll think of something else to call you.”At my invitation, she took a seat at the kitchen table, while I rustled up two mugs of coffee, placed a tin of shortbread biscuits beside her and took a good look at her for the first time. She istanbul travesti was definitely Indonesian, aged around 20 I guessed, with her short black hair pulled back into a bang behind her white tennis sun visor. She had sultry almond-shaped dark brown eyes, but wore no makeup. Her legs were long and slender.“So, tell me what’s involved?” she enquired, dunking a biscuit into her coffee.“Well… general household cleaning and tidying, I guess best sums it up. I normally do my own washing in the machine once a week. And there’s a dishwasher too.”“Want me to cook for you?”“Oh no, that won’t be necessary. I tend to go for convenience food items, which the grocery store delivers, as I don ‘t drive any longer.”She nodded politely. “I could always pick stuff up for you on my way in, if you’d like.”“That’s most kind of you… Ali.” I suddenly realised that we were both confidently talking as if she’d already got the job, even though hours and rates hadn’t even been mentioned.She beamed a lovely mischievous smile across the table and crossed her legs. “How would it be – seeing as our two names are so similar – if I was travesti istanbul to call you ‘Daddy’?”“I’d like that very much.” At that precise moment ‘Daddy’ desperately wanted to see where those shapely ‘pins’ of hers finished up: hopefully meeting beneath her silky smooth cunnie, whose lips might already be swelling in anticipation of some naughty foreplay.To take my mind off lustful thoughts, I jumped up and collected the empty coffee mugs – though I was painfully aware of an ominous bulge which had formed in my slacks. Ali had clearly spotted it too. Standing at the sink with my back to the young woman, I nervously spluttered out the suggested hours and a rate for the job. “If that’s acceptable, when could you start?”I heard her rise from the table and quietly pad across to stand close behind me. She sensuously wrapped her dark brown arms around my waist. “Now?”“Err… that would be perfect.” Her small opened hands moved down onto my hips and then around to the front. “Like me to take care of that, Daddy?” she whispered. And I knew she wasn’t talking about the washing up!~ ~ ~ ~ ~We quickly settled into a weekly istanbul travestileri routine, with the ‘climax’ to young Ali’s household duties always being to give her aged employer a deliciously sensual hand-job. Though it was unspoken, this was our ‘sexual boundary’.With summer approaching, it was agreed that Ali’s hours might be extended to include some light gardening duties such as mowing the lawn and some weeding in my small vegetable patch. When it was warm, she would invariably work topless in the garden, allowing me to marvel at the beauty of her pert little breasts with their puffy nipples.On one occasion, she turned around and caught me peeping at her divine posterior, hidden beneath those tantalisingly short shorts. She gave a cheeky smile. “Fancy doing it out here today, Daddy?”“What a lovely idea.”She slipped out of her shorts and stood naked before me. She crossed her arms in the sign of the Cross and pinched her nipples so that they puffed out. She knew I could never get enough of her breasts. I cautiously ran an index finger across her slit. She closed her eyes and gave a little moan. “Oooo make me wet, Daddy?” Within moments she had secreted dribbles of her love honey onto my hand and smiled as I licked my fingers. Then Ali quietly began massaging my cock, ready for my daily ejaculation which this time was copious, allowing me to coat the front of her swollen quim.

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