Ma'amusa placed a hand on Bob's back for support as he stooped to slide her panties over her stockings and garter. He snapped her with the elastic band after he had finished.

"Where's the blouse?" he asked.

Ma'amusa bounced and pointed. "It's in the closet! Over there!" She cheered him on as he went to fetch it. "The frilly one, with no collar!"

The blouse was white and hung half open, to highlight her cute little breasts. He held the blouse up for her approval, smelling the floral aldehydes of the dry cleaner's soap and softener.

"That's it! That's the one!" Ma'amusa bounced and turned around, presenting her pantied butt. She splayed her arms out wide. "Oh Mr. Rohan! Oh my! Dress me! Dress me please!"

He placed the blouse over her shoulders while pressing his cock to her crack. After reaching around to button it up, she reached around behind them both, to grapple his glutes and savor his meat.

He nipped at an ear, tickling her neck with an unshaven face. "Now the skirt?" he asked.

Ma'amusa squirmed while squelching giggles. "Oh God yes! The skirt!"

He disengaged his cock from her crack, and worked at separating the skirt from the dry cleaner's hanger. Ma'amusa stood frozen in place with her back turned, waiting where he had left her. With gentle hands, he turned her around, making her face him. She laid both hands on his back this time, as he stooped to slide on her skirt. Once done, he satisfied curiosity about the garment, wadding up its many pleats to grab two handfuls of the ass that lay underneath.

She squealed as he groped her, unable to maintain her composure. With strength that spoke of workouts at a gym, she shoved on his chest. Though powerfully built, he found himself helpless, with his hands trapped under her skirt. She backed him up with force, until he fell on his back on the bed. She then clambored up his body, mounting him until her crotch was a scant inch from his face. From there, she lowered herself until her crotch rested on his thighs, causing the length of his erection to curve down towards his knees.

She pressed hard upon it. "Are you going to leave a pecker trail on my skirt, Mr. Rohan?" she asked.

He grinned. "I might."

She flew off in an instant, landing on the floor. "Uck! You need a shower!"

He rolled to his side, striking a Playgirl pose by supporting his head with a hand. "You still need further dressing," he remarked. "Your jacket and your shoes."

Ma'amusa resumed bouncing. "Oh! I do, Sir! Yes, I do!"

She turned and splayed her arms again, presenting her backside to her prey. With a theatrical grunt, Bob rose to stand on the floor. He removed the jacket from its hanger and placed it on the intruder. He again hoisted her skirt, to press himself naked to her pantied butt.

He reached around to grab hold of her tits, but she skittered away. "No peckers on my skirt!" she announced. Then casting her gaze to the floor, she spoke submissive and demure.

"I left my shoes by the door, Mr. Rohan, to keep from tracking mud through your home." She lifted her eyes to look upon him. "Shall I go and get them?"

Bob sized up his unusual guest. "No," he decided to say. "I'll go."

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He returned with a pair of pumps sporting two-inch heels, glossy black and made sassy with silver buckles and piping. He used the washcloth in the hamper to wipe away the mud and dirt before presenting them to Ma'amusa. She held onto his shoulders with grace, lifting one foot up.

"Mr. Rohan," she implored, brown eyes shining bright. "If you please."

He crouched before her and together, they put on her shoes. He then rose to stand close, clapping his hands against his thighs.

"Well," he said, "that's it."

Ma'amusa took a step back and bowed, low and with humility. She held her hands to her legs with her elbows tucked in, addressing the floor at her feet.

"Thank you, Mr. Rohan." Lifting just her eyes, she strained to see his face. "And now, perhaps, you shower?"

Bob stooped a bit, positioning his face to better see hers. He spoke slow and with purpose. "And, that will be..." He paused. "While you do what?"

Ma'amusa straightened her posture and returned to sucking her lips, a look of disappointment growing on her face.

"Do you want me to leave?"

A prolonged moment of silence followed Ma'amusa's offer to leave as Bob pondered his options. On what was the strangest day of his life, the presumptious Māori woman he'd known for just one week wanted the right to roam through his house, unattended while he showered.

Slowly, Ma'amusa bent at the knees, lowering herself to retrieve her coat from the floor. Looking small, she slipped into it and headed towards the door, hanging her head in shame.

Bob forced her to stop by hooking a finger in the hood of her coat when she passed by. She shuddered, as if in fear, while he removed her coat, laying it on his bed. He then strode to be at her side and, with a firm hand on her elbow, led her into his bathroom.

He made her sit on the lid of the toilet. Only then did she dare look at his face, and just for a glance. She lowered her gaze back to the floor, traveling the length of his body while inhaling every atom of his scent.

The man she was intruding on spoke as if he were addressing a child. "You stay there, and you do not move."

"Okay," Ma'amusa blurted, barely moving her lips.

The tub in the bathroom had sliding glass doors for the shower. Bob bent low with his ass near her face while readying things for his use. When he turned to check on her, he caught her leaning forward, smelling his morning butt. Caught unaware, she reared back in alarm. Knowing what she'd been doing, he lolled his head with a smirk before gracing her with a smile.

He tried to not sound condescending. "You need to get up."

"Yes sir, Mr. Rohan," Ma'amusa said, deferential and polite. He took her by the shoulders and made her sidestep towards the door.

He stammered while explaining. "Ahm... I have to pee."

Pleading and begging returned to her eyes, as she dared staring into his blue ones. "Please, Mr. Rohan, if I may. Could we stay and watch?"

Surrealism slapped reality in the face as Bob thought about his answer. "Sure," he said for some reason.

Moving carefully, Ma'amusa closed in. She rose to her toes and peered over his shoulder as he positioned himself to urinate while standing. It wasn't easy to pee with a cock that was mostly hard, but Bob was well-endowed, and blessed with a pecker that hung down, rather than one that stuck out.

He had drunk a sizable amount of coffee, so he really had to go. She pressed close as his stream strengthened, and he leaned forward to accomodate her curiosity. He placed a hand on top of the toilet tank so he'd no longer have to hold his cock, giving her a more unobstructed view of the action. While pressing his other hand to the small of his back, he stretched to pop stiff joints and vertebrae.

Ma'amusa took advantage of his posture to position herself so that his elbow, ever softly, pressed against her breast. Her breath quickened as he worked to release the last of the contents of his bladder. Upon completion, she reached around to tear off four squares of toilet paper from a roll that hung near his thigh. She folded it precisely in half, then folded it again, before using it to massage the last drops from the fleshy head of his pride.

After dropping the paper into the toilet, she placed a hand above his groin, guiding him back to protect his penis while closing the lid. Finally, she flushed, then left to wash her hands.

She assessed her victim's mood by stealing a wary glance before speaking into the sink. "Thanks. That was nice."

He gave her a hand towel to dry with, then placed her back on the lid of the toilet. He took the towel from her when she was done and laid it on the counter. Then to assess her mood, he held her face in both hands and gave her a full kiss.

Ma'amusa brightened, as his act of kindness surprised her. They kissed again, polite and with manners.

"Stay there," Bob ordered, keeping hold of her face. "Don't move. Not an inch."

She beamed, sitting straight and proud. "Yes sir, Mr. Rohan! We will!"