After a few weeks, it became clear that I would need some help around the apartment, so I knocked on Franco's door to see if he knew of any cleaners that were looking for hours. He pointed me towards the notice board that was in the foyer, saying he often used the services of a lad who regularly advertised there, and I saw details of a cleaner that I took down. I looked around at how untidy the place was. I just didn't seem to have the time, what with working long hours and everything. Besides, I could afford it now and the place was in desperate need of a good thorough clean. I also had decided that I would need it decorating to get rid of the generic eggshell colour that was throughout, but now that was a secondary consideration.
I made myself a cup of tea and called the number that had been on the advert. A guy answered and introduced himself as Greg, saying that he was available for work. I explained my needs were general cleaning and some laundry and he seemed happy with that. We agreed a price and Greg said he could start the following day, in the afternoon. I put the phone down, glad that I had that chore crossed off my list and promising that I'd never tell my Mom, as she'd be horrified that I had hired someone to clean up after me.
The next morning, I was slightly late for work, so had left the apartment in a hurry, forgetting to tidy away my porn magazines and films lying on the coffee table from when I jerked off the previous night. I only realised this when I got to work and thought about ringing to cancel Greg, but then remembered that Franco had hired him, and he had probably seen everything before, so relaxed a bit. I soon forgot about it when the troubles of the working day took over. We'd had a spate of shoplifting, so I was busy on the floor, ensuring security whilst the rest of the staff served customers, filled shelves and took deliveries.
It was five o'clock when I finished my shift, and against my better judgement, I decided to forgo the gym session I had planned and just head straight home, not feeling up to it. I didn't even walk; lazy bastard as I was, I caught a cab. When I got to the front door, I grew concerned as Greg hadn't left the spare key in the post box as instructed. I entered my apartment and threw down my keys and the letters I had collected. The place was tidy and smelt fresher than it had in weeks, and Greg had even straightened my porn mags and put the DVD discs back in the cases. I stripped out of my dirty work-shirt and made my way to the bathroom where I kept the hamper.
As I turned the corner, I could see Greg sat naked on the lid of the john, one hand wrapped around his stiff cock and the other holding one of my used jocks in place over his nose and mouth. He was inhaling deeply and jerking off, his stomach muscles taut as he flexed his hand up and down his impressive shaft. My own dick stirred at the sight of him pleasuring himself, and the fact that he was cute and defined.
I crept slowly towards him, then a floorboard creaked, giving me away. He jumped up in shock and removed my jockstrap from his face.
"I'm s-s-sorry," he stammered, his face turning a lovely shade of puce.
