The Fantasy I Fulfilled Cleaning Her House Naked

This is one of those experiences I keep under lock and key, the kind I only take out on the nights when I need to remember that real kink does exist. It happened not all that long ago, and even now I still struggle to believe it was real.

For a while I’d been logging into a chat at night. There I’d met several people, among them a woman a few years older than me, with whom I immediately got on well. We talked about everything, but when the small hours came and the conversation heated up, the subject naturally drifted to sex without the slightest shame. We compared fantasies, experiences, quirks. They were hot conversations and, above all, honest ones.

Her name was Carla. She’d confessed her age one of those nights—she was in her early forties—and, by one of those coincidences, we discovered we lived in the same city. That gave everything a new edge of tension: she was no longer an abstract stranger on the other side of the screen, but someone I might run into on the street any day.

One night in mid-July, with the heat clinging to my skin, I’d read a story about CFNM. For anyone who doesn’t know, that stands for Clothed Female, Naked Men: women dressed, men naked. A practice in which the man is exposed in front of one or more women who keep total control of the situation, and he becomes little more than an object to play with.

I was turned on by the idea of the roles being reversed: her deciding, watching, touching, giving orders; me naked and vulnerable, obeying. With that reading still running through my head, I started telling Carla about it.

“Okay, explain this CFNM thing to me,” she asked, as if she’d never heard of it before.

“Well, situations where the man is naked in front of women who are in control. He stays passive and obeys.”

“Oh, really? Sounds good,” she wrote, and I could almost hear her laugh. “And what kind of situations?”

“The story I just read was about a guy spending the afternoon cooking and serving drinks to two friends, completely naked, while they laughed, grabbed him, or gave him a slap on the ass when he least expected it.”

“That’s great, sounds fun. I’d love to live something like that, honestly. It’s been a fantasy of mine for a long time. Do you remember that thing about hiring guys to clean your house naked?”

“I thought that was a joke,” I replied. “But hey, I’d gladly have someone clean for free and dress however they want, as long as they leave the place spotless.”

“Seriously?” she insisted.

“If there’s trust and it’s a game, why not? I’d do it.”

“You really are impossible, such a horny bastard with a ridiculous imagination,” she wrote. “But I’m asking you seriously: would you really strip in front of someone you barely know just to live that situation?”

“Depends. The setting would have to be right. I like nudism, I’m naked around the house a lot, I live alone, and I can get away with it.”

“You often walk around naked at home? No hope for you,” she teased.

“Who says I’m not naked right now, with this heat?”

“You’re chatting with me naked? I don’t believe it. Turn on the cam for a second, quick, and no cheating,” she challenged me.

I didn’t have time to think about it. I hit the button, picked up the webcam in my hand, and aimed it at my torso. The connection came through, and on her screen, just like on mine, my body appeared from my chin to my navel.

“Okay, now I can see you. You’re not wearing a shirt... not bad at all,” she wrote, and it was the first time she’d seen me through any medium. “But not wearing a shirt doesn’t mean you’re naked. Lower the cam.”

I moved my hand and let the lens travel down from my waist.

“There it is... now I can see you all,” she said, and then abruptly cut the transmission. “Well, you were telling the truth, you do chat in the buff. Makes sense, with this heat and these conversations, more than one person is probably going around as they came into the world.”

The chat went on as if nothing had happened, bouncing between private messages and the general room. But by the early hours, just as we were about to say goodnight, Carla came back on the attack.

“So if I ask you to come to my place and strip naked, will you do what I say?”

“Um... yes, basically that’s the game,” I answered, startled by how direct she’d become. “What do you have in mind?”

“Nothing crazy, don’t get excited. But if you dust, sweep, and mop the whole floor for me, you can do it naked for all I care. You fulfill your fantasy and I save myself the cleaning.”

“That would be great. Though I’d have to psyche myself up for it,” I replied, half-joking.

“Don’t think about it too much, tomorrow’s Saturday and it’s cleaning day. If you’re up for it, send me an email in the morning and I’ll give you the address. I’m going to bed.”

And she logged off, leaving me with a thousand images spinning through my head. I slept terribly, between broken dreams and an arousal that just wouldn’t go down.

***

The next morning I wrote back agreeing to the game. She replied right away with a street intersection and a time. There I was, a bundle of nerves, when she appeared almost out of nowhere and greeted me with two kisses.

“How are you? Ready? The house is a mess and I can’t wait to see how you help me,” she said with a smile that was not entirely innocent.

“Of course,” I managed to say.

We went up to her apartment. She led me into the living room, a small but very bright room, with a big balcony and white curtains swaying in the breeze.

“Right, you can start taking your clothes off. Go on,” she ordered.

Half flustered, half aroused, I started taking my clothes off under her watchful gaze. First the shirt, then the shoes, the socks. I unbuttoned my trousers and, at some point, I looked up. She held my gaze, biting her lower lip.

“No one’s ever given me a striptease before,” she said, laughing.

When I was down to my boxer shorts, I took those off too and stood completely naked in front of her. I left the underwear on the sofa with the rest, and when I turned, I saw her taking me in from top to bottom. I looked down and realized I was already half-hard. There was no hiding it.

“Very good. Now, turn around,” she said, taking my arm to see my back and my ass. She turned me back to face her. “Well, you’ve got a good body. Not bad at all.”

And she gave my ass a slap before taking me to a little room where she kept the broom and dustpan.

“Start with the hallway and these two rooms. I’ll watch how you do it.”

Playing along, I started sweeping her apartment completely naked, in silence, under her supervision. As I concentrated, I relaxed, and that only made my erection grow. At first I felt a little embarrassed, but the shame evaporated almost immediately. I felt exposed and, at the same time, incredibly comfortable.

“Wow, looks like you enjoy sweeping,” she commented, amused, looking at the obvious.

“I love the situation, and of course... it shows,” I replied, smiling back at her.

“Now it’s mopping time! Finish there, I’m going to fill the bucket.”

She came back with a bucket and a mop, and I got to work. The most erotic moment came when she sat on the sofa with a glass of wine and watched me while I mopped the living room. She didn’t take her eyes off my body. With every movement I could feel my cock swinging in the air, half hard, and it turned me on to know she was seeing it and wondering what she was thinking.

When I finished, she told me to put the mop down and come over.

“You did very well. I don’t know if it’s the wine, but seeing you like that, at my mercy, is incredibly hot.”

I walked over as she instructed. She placed her hands on my hips and my erection ended up throbbing just inches from her face. She turned me slightly so she could have me at her side. One hand stroked my ass, alternating soft caresses with squeezes and the occasional pinch; the other went up to my balls and then closed around the base of my cock, now fully hard.

“I’m glad to see you’re well endowed, did you know that?” she said, in a firm but sensual voice, starting to jerk me off slowly.

It was a devastating sensation. I looked at her face: her eyes were fixed on my sex and on the motion of her own hand, biting her lip.

“Before you go, one last order,” she said, pausing. “I want to see you come. But you’re going to do it yourself. Masturbate for me.”

She bent down to pick up a small glass bowl and told me to come inside it while she held it. I started stroking myself fast, never taking my eyes off her, and she kept taunting me with low-voiced phrases that sent me through the roof. I couldn’t hold out for long. I warned her and came into the bowl, which she brought close with care so not a single drop would be lost.

When I was done, she handed me a tissue to clean myself while she joked, amused, about the amount I’d shot. We said goodbye without more ceremony, but both of us knew that wasn’t going to be the end of it.

***

A few days later she wrote to me. She’d told the story to a friend who didn’t believe her and wanted to see for herself. Did I feel like doing it again? Going from one woman to two was an even bigger fantasy, so I agreed without thinking twice.

On the agreed day Carla opened the door for me and introduced me to her friend Noa: blonde, shoulder-length hair, light eyes, a smile that seemed Nordic. The two of them were expectant. Carla ordered me to strip, do everything I was told, and stay quiet—no talking, just obey. My heart started racing: this was getting much more serious.

I stripped while they laughed and watched me. As soon as I was ready, they came over, one on each side, and started touching me.

“What do you think of our all-purpose guy?” Carla said, one hand running down my back to my ass, the other grabbing my cock.

“Very good,” Noa replied, more restrained, feeling my chest. “He looks well prepared.”

Carla held me firmly and pulled me toward the kitchen.

“Come on, slave, we’re starting here.”

She handed me the duster, the broom and the dustpan, and explained the routine. Before leaving, she added something I hadn’t expected:

“Try to get hard, my friend likes seeing a cock nice and erect.”

I touched myself a bit and went out into the living room to clean, half-hard, under the gaze of the two of them, who were whispering and laughing on the sofa. After a while Carla called me over to bring them two beers. When I stood in front of them and they were seated, my sex was at face level.

“What a view,” Noa blurted out, blushing with laughter.

Carla grabbed my cock and handled it slowly to show it to her.

“Look at this little pervert,” she said in an authoritative voice. “Touch it, you’ll see how hard it is.”

Noa raised her hand and wrapped her fingers around me.

“Oh yes, rock hard. And smooth,” she added, winking at me.

“Finish sweeping and then we’ll see what we do with you,” Carla said, ending it there.

I didn’t have much left to do. My heart was pounding hard and, out of the corner of my eye, I could see them laughing. Being their toy turned me on like nothing else. When I finished I went over.

“All done, puppy? Very good. Come closer and look at what I’ve got for you,” Carla said, showing me the same bowl from last time. “You’re going to come for us.”

This time she didn’t wait. She set the bowl aside, grabbed me, and started jerking me off at a good pace, whispering that I was going to be good and give them all my cum. She took turns with Noa, who did it more gently but just as intensely. After several hand-offs, Carla told me to take over and placed the bowl between them. I came soon after, aiming inside, while they held it and laughed. I’ll never forget that image: my cock throbbing and the two of them taking it all in, enraptured, as the bowl filled up.

“What a load you gave us,” Carla said triumphantly. “See? I told you he leaks a ton,” she told Noa.

And then something happened I hadn’t expected. Noa leaned in, took my still-dripping cock into her mouth, and started cleaning it with her tongue, sucking and swallowing everything. She pulled back, pinched the tip with her fingers to catch the last drops, and swallowed it again, staring straight at me. Since I was still half hard, she asked if I could come again. I told her yes, and she went on giving me a fierce blowjob while she masturbated with her other hand. We came almost at the same time. She left not a trace behind.

Days later I learned that Noa had asked Carla for my contact details. She “hired” me to clean her house every week. With her the rules were different: she paid me, kept me naked at all times, and put a black leather collar around my neck that she used to lead me by. I had to stay erect at all times, and when everything was sparkling clean she’d take me to her room and ride me mercilessly until she was satisfied.

Never in my life had I appreciated cleaning so much as I do now.