The Secret Sexual Agreement with My Maintenance Man

The first time I noticed him,

I was taking my laundry down in a tank top with no bra. His eyes followed every bounce. Who knew we’d end up with a secret sexual agreement!  He was older, quiet, and unassuming. One of those men you walk past a hundred times and never think about twice unless something’s broken. I didn’t give him much thought until I noticed something missing. My red lace panties we missing from the dryer. A few days later, I found them crumpled behind his maintenance cart, damp and well used.

He didn’t say anything. Neither did I. When my AC went out the next week, he was the one they sent. It was ninety-two degrees, and I was wearing a silk robe with nothing underneath. The fabric stuck to my skin in all the right places. He showed up flushed and sweaty, eyes fixed on his tools like they were the only thing keeping him alive. Of course, I found his behavior all too humorous. Fortunately for him, I wasn’t angry or offended because if this job taught me anything, it was to be understanding.

I Was Ready To Confront Him

I watched him from behind while he worked. Saw the way his hands shook a little. The poor bastard had no idea I was going to suggest a secret sexual agreement. When he finished, I walked up slowly and stopped just behind him. “I know you took my panties,” I said. He froze and didn’t speak. Thankfully, he didn’t even try to deny it. “I’m not mad,” I whispered. “But I think you owe me.” His breath caught in his throat when I slid his hand between my thighs. I wanted him to feel the heat that was building between my legs. My wet pussy pulsing beneath his fingers.

“You’re going to make me come,” I said. “Not with your hands, and not with your cock…just your mouth.” He looked up at me, utterly fucking stunned. “That’s our secret sexual agreement. You don’t speak. You don’t ask questions. And you leave when I’m done.” He nodded in agreement, ha! It’d be stupid of him not to. I sat on the edge of the couch and opened my legs. He dropped to his knees and began to pleasure me with his tonue and lips.

This Was The Beginning of Our Secret Sexual Agreement

There he stayed for a while, teasing my pussy and making me beg for an orgasm. Clearly he had a talent for eating pussy!  That man gave me a mind-blowing orgasm with nothing but his mouth. Pussy juices flooded his hungry mouth, and he drank down every drop. To my pleasure and surprise, he didn’t say a word; he just wiped his beard and waited. “You can go,” I said. And he did.

Since then, we’ve kept it going. Whenever I call in a maintenance request, they send him. He knocks, I open the door, and he knows exactly what to do. No questions, and thankfully, no talking. Just my pleasure. Of course, I am not cruel…I give him my dirty panties as payment for the good pussy worship he offers me. That’s the thing about a good secret sexual agreement: it doesn’t need emotion to be real. It just needs clear rules and the right kind of hunger.

Sometimes I wonder what he tells himself. That it’s just sensual roleplay? That he’s doing me a favor? Or maybe he knows the truth that he’s my little mouse to play with, and my tongue-on-command. My quiet little release valve. And I like it that way. The more I use him, the less I want anything else. No talking, no awkward post-sex cuddles, no expectations. Just his mouth and my orgasms.

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