I have a cleaner which, I realise, has the potential to make me appear much more wealthy, successful and decadent than I really actually am. She’s relatively new to me and a completely fantastic woman. A mother of five (five!), slim and incredibly tall (a good couple of inches over six feet), she originates from Hungary and is typical of a lot of people from that region, hard-working, friendly, intelligent and not fazed by seemingly much at all. She does a variety of jobs to support her family, dashing from one to another, and you never hear her complain about anything. She rarely, if ever, gets the opportunity to slow down or stop for a moment. I’ve nicknamed her Supermum which I think she actually quite likes.

Anyway, due to the on-going situation we have all found ourselves in which has resulted in unprecedented social lockdowns and cancelled travel plans I, like many others, have been working from home now for several months. In trying to make the best of this challenging situation and in an effort to cheer myself up, I’ve taken the opportunity to wear as much of my thong and G-string collection as possible and nothing else. Thankfully, the favourable temperature of the summer months has helped me in my working-from-home lockdown minimal underwear quest. I’m getting a certain amount of self-satisfaction from partaking in boring conference calls whilst attired in nothing but the smallest amount of material it’s possible to wear. I’ve even managed a few video calls and meetings too, top half casually dressed, bottom half barely contained and separated with the narrowest of material, it’s been a pleasant distraction and a lot of fun.

It was weekly cleaning day and my Supermum arrived bang on time as usual. I was properly clothed as I obviously have the utmost respect for her and also, I never like to impose my underwear or naturist interests on others. We had a quick chat whilst I made her a cup of coffee but I don’t like to hold her up too long or get in her way as I know she has plenty of other things to attend to throughout the day. I was also pretty snowed under with work myself but actually grateful to still have a job in these uncertain times, even though I don’t always acknowledge it.

She started upstairs as usual and had been busily beavering away for around 20 minutes or so. I was in my small home office downstairs staring at the laptop when I heard her descend the stairs seemingly slower than usual. She then entered the room with a slightly bemused and mildly disappointed look on her face. I asked if everything was ok at which point she lowered her gaze and very slowly raised her right hand, palm facing upwards, with just her long index finger extended. Dangling from the tip of said index finger was my very minimal, green pouched with black waistband and strap, Kiniki G-string which had been my outfit of choice throughout all of the previous day!

“Is this yours?”
“Um, err, yeah, yes, yes it is.”
“I found it in the bedroom, just under the bed.”
The excruciatingly long pause which followed was made even worse as I’m absolutely certain she was gently moving her hand to make the elevated G-string sway ever so slightly.
“Shall I put it in the wash basket for you?”
“Please, thank you, if you wouldn’t mind, yes, thank you.”
She then very slowly left the room, still with the same facial expression and still holding my G-string at the final height she’d initially confronted me with it at. A slow staircase ascent was followed by the familiar opening, and subsequent closing, of the cupboard door to access the sanctuary of the wash basket.

I very rarely get embarrassed and it’s even rarer for me to blush but my face felt like it was hotter than the sun and it remained that way for some time after. The next hour or so was all a bit of a blur to be honest, I’m not even sure if I managed to do any constructive work at all. I couldn’t seem to stop going back through what had just happened in my mind interspersed with attempts to write lengthy emails. I was quickly shaken out of my little world of embarrassment when Supermum appeared at the door once more.

“See you next week, same time?” I couldn’t read her facial expression, mainly because I couldn’t actually look her in the eye. I could also feel the heat returning to my face once more plus, I was starting to feel like an overly hormonal teenage boy who had just been caught leafing through an adult magazine.
“Yes of course, as long as it’s ok with you?”
“Well, definitely.” I wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret this.

I still couldn’t believe what had just happened, especially as being a man with probably very slight Obsessive Compulsive Disorder I’m usually a very tidy and organised person and was certain I’d put my G-string in the laundry basket but, it must have got kicked just out of sight under the bed the evening before.

If ever an actual image were needed to reignite my blushes, the belfie is me in the exact G-string in question on the bed it was discovered under. I just don’t know how I’m going to react when she arrives next week.