MILF and Trap Maid Service (male on trap, male on female, no futa)

Story by Kuroshio

The story prize for my 250 fan raffle on HF. Prompt was "Going with my idea from your last raffle: A guy omes home from work to find his neighbors, a busty mature woman and her trap son, dressed up as maids and ready to 'serve' him." Contains crossdressing, male on trap, male on milf, a suspicious lack of anal, creampie, brief incest and oral sex

It's a funny thing, life.

Just when you think you've got everything set just the way you like it, when there are no more curve balls are going to come your way and everything is on cruise control, it has a way of sending something your way that you're at a loss to handle. For me, it came while coming to my average home from my average job to a decidedly non-stand sight.

As I unlocked the front door and twisted the handle, I immediately knew something was different. There were sounds coming from inside. I never left the television on and even if I had, this was something different; it was the sound of a vacuum going. A vacuum? I couldn't imagine why burglars would run a vacuum, but my heart raced anyway and it took a conscious effort to muster up my courage enough to get my quickening pulse under control and push forward. As the door swung open, I was greeted by the sight of... two maids?

Huh?

I could only see the taller of the two, a decidedly thick and buxom woman, wearing a uniform meant for a much shorter, less well-endowed maid, complete with semi-transparent white thigh-highs that didn't quite reach the hem, leaving two inches of tantalizingly leg meat exposed. While she was far from skinny, the woman was riding the line of “deliciously thick” like a tiger and the way her black and white uniform strained in places was just collateral damage waiting to happen. She shifted my way and I could see that her top was fit to burst thanks to her bust and once (not if) it did, at least two of those buttons would go with enough force to kill someone. Not that her breasts were particularly contained, not at all; they spilled out of the top like a foam head of a good beer served in glass. The two big breasts were jiggling with each and every moment, seriously at risk of overrunning her top entirely. She wasn't just a wardrobe malfunction – it was outright sabotage to stuff such a curvy women into such a tight getup, nothing more than a few thin strings away from exploding into nudity. It took a minor miracle for me to pull my eyes above her collar and look to her head, surrounded by a thick mass of pale blonde ringlets that obscured her face.

As I looked down, the other was on her knees, facing away. I couldn't see her nearly as well, but I could tell the skirt of her maid uniform wasn't doing much more to cover her than the larger woman's, even if the one on the floor was small enough the difference in sizes was clear. But instead of making eyeball measurements, I sized up the way the skirt rode up her waist as she worked at something on the floor, revealing a set of white and pink striped panties below and a rather modest, but still incredibly round, backside and the same tempting glimpse of thigh before her stockings covered her legs down to her feet. It wasn't nearly as thick as the other, but the way it swayed back and forth was hypnotic and I found myself mesmerized watching it.

I could have stood in the doorway and stared forever, but the vacuum clicked off and a brief gust of wind blew through the door, spreading a cool breeze through the room that flipped up a few loose papers onto the floor. The tall woman's head snapped towards me and suddenly I recognized who she was.

“Margret?” My next door neighbor. “What are you doing here?”

Her face broke into a smile, perfectly white and even teeth practically shining as she pushed the vacuum away and curtsied, “Kevin... I just wanted to serve someone today. Be a good neighbor and all, as a way of saying thank you for all the help.” The way her bluish green eyes twinkled, I knew that “serve” had more meaning than just the word implied. Although that isn't saying much: the tight and short maid uniform told me at least as much – and probably more. I could think of much more meaning in the word “serve” when given such inspiration and felt the rush of fear sloughing off and giving rise to a rush of something else entirely.

But I needed to make sure; more than one man has assumed too much too quickly and had his hopes crumble before his eyes, “And the other?”

“Oh, right! You've met my daughter Britt before,” she motioned the short, slender and demure maid forward, bringing her in in front with her hands on the small girl's shoulders, “Say hi, Britt.”

Britt? While we weren't strictly speaking friends, I had helped Margret out with some of her heavier housework on occasion and we'd spoken. I knew she was a single mother with one child, but I remember her having a son named Brett inst

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