Amily the personal maid-1

The next thing I recall is Amily standing by the end of my bed, holding out her tape measure, waiting for me to grab the end.

“No walk in closet,” I finally replied,”but yes, there is an en suite – I had one of those steam showers built in.”

“Oh, I better have you turn that on,” Amily replied, stretching to measure the width of the room, “if it creates a lot of moisture, we’ll need to pay extra attention to avoid mold.”

We shifted 90 degrees and measured the length of the room as I ran through a dozen bad puns about how turned on I was, or how I wanted to turn Amily on. As we moved, I admired her lithe athleticism, but we never brushed against each other. Just thinking about that possibility though made my weight bulge so much I feared that it might force my sweatpants to drop, and my cock to force itself on display. Or maybe it was the sight of Amily’s pants finally stretched tight across her perfect ass as she bent to place her end of the tape in the corner and jot down a few figures. Almost as if she was presenting her ass to me, like a primate female out to attract a sexual mate.