Realtor




My friend Ellen Henley called with a desperate tone to her
voice. "You *need* to cover for me, Karen. I can't make it.
And I can't afford to lose my job."

I wanted to help, but I didn't think I could pull it off.
"But I don't have the slightest idea what to *do*."

"You don't have to do anything. Just meet the clients and
take them to a couple homes, and tell them I'll get in touch
with all the details later. If you go slow, I might even
meet you at the last house. You can do it, Karen. There's
nothing to it at all."

And that's how I ended up waiting for Mr. and Mrs. Masterson
in front of an expensive, geometrically modern house in the
most affluent part of town. It was a hot day, and the roses
and lilies bloomed abundantly in the meticulously maintained
yard. I was nervous, and I could feel the trickles of sweat
running down my side.

They arrived in a sparkling new Jaguar XJ8. Mr. Masterson
wore a beautiful linen suit with a blue silk shirt. The wife
had on a slinky yellow dress and big, round, dark
sunglasses. She had no trouble at all walking in her
fabulous, skinny, high heel shoes. Mr. Masterson waited on
the concrete pathway to the porch as his wife stepped up to
me, standing just a little too close for my comfort. I
gulped involuntarily. She took her sunglasses off and stared
right at me. Her lips were dark red and her eyes were
chocolate brown. "Yes, you'll do *just* fine," she said. She
put her sunglasses back on and turned her back to me,
looking out into the yard. "Now tell me, what do we have
here?"

Ellen had sent me some paperwork on the house, which I had
studied carefully. I started to recite the spiel I had been
rehearsing in my mind for the past two hours, but Mrs.
Masterson interrupted me with a wave of her hand. "This is
of no concern to me. Let's see what we have inside."

I was flustered from being interrupted and a little bit
disoriented. I opened the door and showed them in. They
didn't wait for me to show them around. They immediately
went to the large marble staircase and headed upstairs. I
scurried behind them, trying to remember what I was going to
say about the bedrooms upstairs. My script was worthless and
I couldn't think of an ad lib that would let me get back on
track.

They poked their heads into the first two rooms and
continued down the hall to the master bedroom. They ducked
inside, closing the door in my face. I had a flash of anger
at the way they were treating me. They wouldn't have dared
to do this to Ellen! I threw open the door and went after
them.

The bedroom was dominated by a king-sized platform bed and
large, abstract paintings on the walls.

Mr. and Mrs. Masterson were standing in the center of the
room in a tight embrace, kissing.

"Ahem," I said.

They stopped kissing, but they didn't separate. She looked
at me while she unzipped his pants and pulled out an
enormous, hard penis. She stroked its huge length a few
times, and a bead of pre-cum formed on its tip. She got down
on her knees in front of him.

"You can't *do* that!" I protested. "What if the owners come
back?"

She licked the pre-cum off the tip of his dick and sneered
at me. "Surely they would not return while you were showing
their home. They *do* know we are looking, don't they?"

"I - I - I'm not sure."

Anger flashed in her eyes. "You're not *sure?*" She let go
of his penis, which waved back and forth.

"I didn't organize anything," I blurted. "I'm just here to
show the house."

"So you're not a real realtor. You're just some show toy, a
pretty little dauble *my* use and entertainment?"

I looked down at my feet, ashamed. "Yes," I whispered.

She stood up and walked over to me. She put her fingers
under my chin and lifted my face to hers. "You are a pretty
little thing. Whatever your name is."

"Karen," I said.

"Take off your clothes, Karen."

My fingers felt fat and trembling, but I worked on the
buttons of my blouse. I looked at Mr. Masterson, who had
stripped naked. His large, thick rod stood steady and erect.
I removed my blouse and unfastened the clasp of my slacks.
Both husband and wife were watching me intently as I took
off my bra.

"Pull your panties off real slow, like a stripper," Mrs.
Masterson commanded.

My whole body felt like it was on fire. I tried to imagine
how a stripper would take off her panties. Slowly, slid them
downward, bending over to show them my ass. I lowered them
down my legs to my knees and let them drop. I stood back up,
flushed with embarrassment.

"You *are* a pretty little thing," Mrs. Masterson said. She
parted the front of her dress and freed a breast. It was
small with a small, dark nipple. She held it in her hand and
squeezed, making the nipple point.

"Suck it," she said.

I leaned in and licked the tip, pursed my lips, and gently
held her protruding nipple. I licked across it softly.

"You call that sucking?" she said. She shoved my head away,
and I stumbled backwards. She looked at her husband. "Tie
her up," she said.

He pulled two lengths of rope from her handbag. I held out
my hands as he quickly tied loops around my wrists and
attached them to the headboard. He pulled the ropes tight,
forcing me to bend over the bed, my butt up in the air. My
face burned like I had a fever.

"Now fuck her."

He moved behind me, out of my view. His penis entered me
swiftly, taking my breath away. I took hold of the ropes and
pulled them tightly, making my body rigid. He sawed in and
out of me. Mrs. Masterson stood beside us, looking down
where her husband's cock entered my cunt. She reached
between us and felt the hot flesh of my cunt stretched
around her husband's stiff pole. She smeared my juice on the
backs of my thighs and up onto my butt. She ran her slicked
up fingers up and down my ass crack. She fingered my anus,
tickling it. I squirmed involuntarily. "You love anal sex,
don't you?"

"I - I don't know."

She laughed. Mr. Masterson pulled his penis out of my cunt,
and I felt the profound emptiness. The fat length of his
cock settled into the crease of my ass. He pushed my cheeks
together, trapping his shaft between them. He slid his cock
back and forth, using my own pussy juice to lubricate the
channel.

He let go of my ass and reoriented himself. He penis bumped
against my anus. And then the relentless pressure. And then,
with a sudden surge of pain, he entered me. I cried out, but
he didn't stop. I pulled on the ropes around my wrists but
they wouldn't budge. And just when I thought I couldn't take
the pain any longer, it began to subside. I relaxed, and his
cock pushed deep inside my ass.

"See, you *do* love anal sex," Mrs. Masterson said. "Your
one of those anal sluts, aren't you? One of those girls who
only wants it up the ass? Or maybe you are a whore? I'll bet
that's it. You let men fuck your ass for money. How much do
you charge for an anal fuck, whore? Five hundred bucks?"

Five hundred dollars seemed like a lot of money. I wondered
if that was really the going rate. Or was she insulting me?

Mr. Masterson stroked harder, and then pounded my ass like a
battering ram. I breathed heavily through my nose in time
with his relentless thrusts. I found that if I squeezed my
ass muscles for just an instant when he was at his deepest,
I felt at sizzle of intense pleasure.

I was embarrassed. I was excited. I was appalled at my own
behavior. I couldn't believe a man was fucking my ass in one
of the most expensive houses in town while his wife urged
him on and called me names. But most of all, I was furious
at Ellen for getting me into this.

Mr. Masterson began to growl, over and over again. And then
I could feel his cock throbbing in my ass, filling my rectum
with come.

"Well now, isn't this special?" Mrs. Masterson said. "You're
really a worthless slut. I think I'm going to get you
fired." She yawned. "What did you say your name was again?"

He pulled his dick out of my ass, and I felt the emptiness
return. But I wasn't past letting Ellen take the blame for
this. "Ellen," I said. "Ellen Rabinoff."

"Honey, I know Ellen Rabinoff. *You* are no Ellen Rabinoff."
She looked to her husband. "Let's just leave her here,
whatever her name is. Let whoever finds her figure out who
she is."

They left me bent over the bed, my hands strung to the
finials on the headboard by ropes. I thought about what
would happen when the homeowners came home, about the
trouble and humiliation. I thought about being turned over
to the police. I thought about calling Ellen to come bail me
out of jail. Semen oozed out of my ass as I thought about
those horrible things.

And just as my thoughts turned as dismal as they could
possibly be, with the Mastersons long gone, with tears
streaming from my eyes, with my body stretched and sore, I
experienced the most tremendous orgasm of my entire life.