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Open House

By: Mistress Maria



I will be closing up here in a few minutes." I said to my husband, Paul, who was on the receiving end of my cellular phone call. "Sure I will pick something up on the way home. How does Chinese sound? Good. I'll get your usual then.... Okay, bye-bye, Hun." I pushed the end button on my phone and put it in my leather purse. 

I was little miffed at Paul. It was Sunday and he was home all day. He could have whipped something up for dinner, while I worked all afternoon. But no, he just sat at home watching football. At least he could have offered to take me out to dinner. Chinese take out would have to do. After twelve years of marriage we had gotten into such a rut. Our sex life had become routine and boring too. Paul thought a peck on the cheek was foreplay. He would climb on top of me, do me for three minutes, cum, then roll over and go to sleep. That was it. He didn't care to see if I got off or not. Paul was a few years older than I was. He was 42 and I was 36. I took care of myself though. I exercised and ate right. I could pass for a girl in her mid to late twenties. I was tall and slender, yet I had a large 38DD chest and a cute heart shaped ass. I had blond hair that was cut in a bob. Paul preferred me with longer hair, but I liked to keep it short because it was easier to maintain. I could just wash it and go.

Being that I was working, I dressed in professional attire. Usually I like to wear short skirts and dresses that showed off my shapely legs, but it was Sunday and I decided to wear something less formal and more comfortable. I wore a navy blue pantsuit and soft black flats. My pants were tight in the rear accentuating my cute butt. I spent a great deal of time on the Stairmaster and I was proud of the results. My blue blazer with gold buttons barely closed over my heaving breast that protruded out of my sheer white blouse. My lacy white bra was visible through the thin material of the blouse. I would tend to open my blazer whenever a man came to see the house. I had no qualms about using my feminine charms and natural assets to sell houses.

I looked around the vacant house to make sure all was secure. I had been trying to sell this house for over a year now and I was getting frustrated. It is a nice big house in the hills in the exclusive West Side of town. The location was ideal and the neighborhood was fantastic. But, no one wants to buy a home where an entire family of four was hacked to death by an ax murderer over two and a half years ago. As a realtor I had to disclose that gruesome fact. Believe me, it was no selling point. People would love the house at first, but when they heard what happened here. It didn't help matters any that the killer was never caught. Turning pale, stammering, and a quick exit out the door was the usual reaction from potential buyers. Then there were the curious who were only interested in the macabre aspect of the house. They were just lookie-loos that could never afford the half million-dollar asking price. The house was worth a million easy, but due to the circumstances, I had to cut the price in half. At the rate I was going, I was going to have to lower it another $50,000 or even $100,000.

I went all through the house to make sure that all the windows were closed and the shades were drawn. I kind of got spooked being alone the house. It had a strange aura about it. I could sense the ominous presence of evil that was confined within its wood beams and stucco walls. I supposed that I wouldn't buy the house either, no matter how much the price dropped. After securing the upstairs rooms, I came down to draw the vertical blinds on the sliding glass door in the family room. As I looked out I saw a man standing in the backyard. He startled me as I thought everyone was long gone. He was tall, maybe 6'-3", and he was well built. He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He had short jet-black hair that matched his long black leather coat. He wore tight black jeans and sported black alligator boots. He stood there with his back toward me smoking a cigarette and staring into the pool. The pool was empty with the exception of a greenish brown puddle of stagnant rainwater that formed near the clogged drain. I slid open the door and called out to him.

"Excuse me, sir. The open house is closed for today." I said. Although he was a possible buyer, I was tired and anxious to get home and relax. The man did not speak. He turned around slowly and faced me. He had one hand in his pants pocket and took a puff of his cigarette with the other. He appeared to be about 35 years old. He wore large dark sunglasses that concealed his eyes and a good part of his face. He was clean-shaven and had a strong chin with a dimple. A long jagged scar traversed diagonally across his left cheek, beginning at his jawbone and disappearing underneath his sunglasses. His face was expressionless. Although his eyes were concealed I could sense that he stared right through me. He took another long drag of his cigarette, then flicked it into the puddle at the deep end of the pool. He slowly blew a stream of smoke from his mouth.

"I am sorry sir. It has been a long day and I have another appointment." I handed him a business card. He took it, but still did not say a word. "You have my card. If your are interested in the house or others in the area, give me a call tomorrow." He looked down at my card then he looked back at me with a blank stare.

"Terry?" The man uttered.

"What? Oh, yes - Terry. Yes, my name is Terry - Terry Lawrence." I replied. Obviously, he must have seen my name on my card. He was totally unfamiliar to me and would not have known me otherwise. My name wasn't even on the sign out front.

"I would like to see the house." Said the man in a quiet tone.

"Okay, well call me tomorrow and we will set up an appointment. I would show you now, but I have someplace to be right now." I smiled politely. I didn't like to lie, but the guy kind of gave me the creeps. 

"This house has significant meaning to me. I want it." He said in a monotone voice. His facial expression lacked any animation. His demeanor and his reason to have the house were unnerving for me. Who was this guy? He was definitely strange. I looked at him and tried to figure him out. He spoke again in a soft voice, "I know you've been trying to sell this place for a very long time." He paused and stared at me.

"Yes - yes I have."

"I am a serious buyer. I am willing to pay cash for this house."

His statement surprised me. I thought, was this guy for real? Why did he want it so badly? Was he just pulling my leg or what?

"Wow." I said with a hint of disbelief in my voice, but if he was not bluffing, I could lose out on the only chance to sell this place. "Come on in." Reluctantly, I invited him inside. He came in and looked around the family room. He shook his head up and down, but said nothing for a while. He inspected the room thoroughly although there wasn't any contents. It seemed that he saw a fully furnished and decorated room in his mind's eye. He walked over to the blinds that partially covered the sliding glass door. He began closing them. I became slightly alarmed. I closed the door, but I did not lock it.

"I work at night and sleep in the day. I want see how dark the room gets." He explained, obviously sensing my nervousness. 

"Oh, I see." I said. It was close to sundown and the sun was facing the opposite side of the house. The room grew dark as he drew the blinds. The man continued to walk around the house quietly. He was in deep thought as he crept into each room. I spoke of some of the features of the house, but he seemed disinterested and tuned me out. I just kept quiet for the most part. He was bizarre. Then I realized that I never asked his name, but he never volunteered it either. I asked him as he was checking a bedroom closet. Without looking at me he plainly stated that his name was Dave.

After touring the house, we ended up in the living room. He tried the front door, opening and closing it. He inspected the locks. He closed the door and locked it behind him. He tugged on the door handle. It was quite secure. I felt uncomfortable being locked in with this guy. I knew that the sliding glass door in the family room was still open. I kept an eye on it. I had my cell phone if things really started to get hairy. I just wanted to be rid of this odd open house visitor. Then he walked toward the sliding glass door.

"Do you know the history of this house?" I asked trying to interrupt his stride toward the door. The man secured the lock on the sliding door. His response was delayed. He turned and looked at me. He was still wearing his sunglasses in the darkened room.

"Do I know about the murders? Isn't that what you mean?"

"Well...yes."

"I am intimately familiar with the account of the murders." He said in an inpatient way. The veins in his neck and forehead bulged. He began to perspire.

"Oh. I-I see." I began to get really frightened at this point. 

He moved casually toward me and his arm suddenly disappeared behind me. I felt my scalp sting as he pulled the back of my hair. I was stunned and let out a brief squeal. He placed his face close to mine.

"You know what lady? You ask a lot of fucking questions of someone who is willing to pay cash money for this death trap you call a house." He said in a quiet, even manner, but through clenched teeth. I smelled his stale smokers breath as he spoke. He pulled my hair harder. He drew a long thick bladed knife from his boot and placed it against my cheek.

"Please don't!" I whined. Who was he? Why was he doing this to me? 

"You scream and I shove this knife into your throat!" He said raising his voice. "These walls will be splashed with blood again if you don't do exactly as I say. You get me?" He pulled my hair even harder.

"Please don't kill me. I will do whatever you want." I pled for my life. The man spun me around and placed his forearm over my throat. It was hard to breathe. He shoved some type of cloth into my mouth. He pushed me down onto the carpet face down and straddled my body. He stripped my blazer off of me. I heard tearing sounds of thick tape being torn from a roll. He bound my wrists behind my back with the tape. He flipped me over onto my back and placed a strip of gray tape over my mouth, sealing in the cloth gag. He was much too big and strong for me to resist. Furthermore, I was deathly afraid of what he could do to me with that horrible knife.

He sat astride my hips and looked down at me. His eyes were still obscured by his dark glasses. He grabbed the front of my blouse and roughly ripped it open exposing my lacy white bra. He took his knife and slid it under the front cross section of the bra. The blade was so cold on my warm skin. It felt hard against my breastbone. With a quick upward flick of the wrist, the man cut my bra open causing the cups to fall to my sides. My breasts flopped out and drooped to the sides as well. He lowered his head and began to lick and bite my plump breasts and tender nipples. I squirmed and wiggled, but it was no use. I was powerless against this mad man.

Dave raised up and took off his leather coat, flinging it to the side. He scooted down and straddled my thighs. He unfastened my pants and slid them down my legs, leaving them bunched around my ankles. He pushed my ankles up close to my bottom causing my knees to raise. Then he forced my knees apart and planted the palm of his right hand firmly on my mound. I had still had on my black panties. They were lace in the front and satin in the back. A pink rose adorned the top center of the "V" shaped front. He lowered his head and gripped the rose in his teeth. He ripped it off and spat it across the empty room. He placed his nose to my lace-covered crotch and inhaled, breathing in my womanly scent. He came up grinning. It was the first time his face showed any expression.

I felt my panties being slipped down over my hips and thighs. They ended up with my pants at my ankles. The scarred man parted my labia with four rigid fingers, which he held tight like a wedge. I was scared to death, but my open nakedness and the touch of his strong fingers upon my intimate parts made me a little moist down there. He sunk his middle finger into my vagina, pulled it out and sucked it clean. He sat there savoring the taste of my pussy. I saw his erection bloom in his jeans. He stood up, unsnapped and unzipped his pants and dropped them to his ankles. He was not wearing underwear and his huge hard cock stood out at a right angle against his flat hard stomach. In a moment of panic, I tried to roll away from him. I had no idea where I was going to go or what I was going to do. I felt a tremendous weight drop on me as I lay in face down. My head was pulled back by the hair and I felt a sharp sting just under my right jawbone. It was the cold steely knife. He held it there to let me know that he meant business. I shivered and wept, as I knew what was to come next.

He pressed the tip of his cock into my backside and found my vaginal opening. He slithered his way inside me and forced his pubic arch into my ass cheeks slamming it against my butt bone. He started ramming me from behind driving my hips and pubis into the thick carpet. His stiff swollen cock filled me to the core as he worked it in and out. His balls slapped away at the back of my upper thighs. With my hands bounded behind me, I could feel his washboard stomach. He gritted his teeth and grunted like a wild boar as he pumped my precious pussy and drove my ass into the floor. The fear was intense, but the physical pleasure of the hard and fast sex was just too overwhelming. I soon found myself on the verge of cuming. Then, he let out a loud long grunt as he shot his wad into my hot aching snatch. I let out a stifled scream into my gag as I climaxed as well. It was so wrong for me to enjoy this. My body was betraying me. My mind was screaming NO! But my pussy was begging for more.

Dave pulled out of me and flipped me over onto my back. He lifted and parted my knees, then knelt between my legs. He laid his shins over my bunched up pants and panties, which caused my ankles to be pinned to the floor. He kissed and licked me all over my neck and breasts. His tongue ventured down my tummy and he swirled it around my navel. He was driving me bananas! His tongue made its way down to my pubic line, where he stopped. He lifted his head up and began rubbing his hands all up and down the front of my body. He pressed the meaty portion of his palm into my thick mound, which was covered with a thin strip of light brown pubic hair. He licked the bare flesh around both sides of my little pubic "landing strip." His tongue glided over my clit and dipped into my pussy. This wasn't so bad, I thought to myself. But things were soon to change for the worse.

Dave raised up and brought out his scary looking knife again. He placed the blade against the side of my throat and began to skim it along my soft skin, which was wet with perspiration. He slowly worked it down between my supple breasts, gently dragging the point alternately along my bulbous globes. The cold sharp steel sent chills down my spine. He carefully made a zigzagging course down my abdomen and crossed my navel in a "Z" pattern. The blade pressed ever so slightly into my tender flesh, but he made it a point not to break the skin. He was just teasing and taunting me with his weapon. He stared through his dark glasses at the big knife as it caressed my body. I tensed up as he got to my groin. He outlined the pattern of my thin strip of pubic hair. Then, he went for my clit. He slowly slid the point along both sides of my chick pea sized clitoris. I quivered and quaked as the hard sharp point came in contact with my extremely sensitive tissues. He closely studied my nub as he probed it with his knife. Then he moved on to my fleshy pussy lips, maneuvering them about with the care of a surgeon armed with a scalpel. I braced myself, as I feared that he would cut my tender parts, but he didn't. The mental experience was torturous, but the physical sensation was strangely arousing for me. At first, I thought he was playing a devious mind game with me. Later, I realized that this was foreplay to him. 

He set the knife down and lay upon me. He nibbled at my neck and ear. He reached down and guided his stiff cock into my vagina. He slipped it in to the hilt and rubbed his groin into my mound. His course pubic hair chaffed the bare skin around my pussy as his hips gyrated into me. My pussy was stuffed to capacity with his throbbing meat pole. His rigid prick slipped and sloshed in, out and around my wet love canal. He fucked me good and hard for twenty minutes straight, pounding my ass into the solid ground. The rug burns irritated the soft skin of my heart shaped hynie. I came two more times. Dave built up a lot of steam and let loose with a massive crescendo as he spewed inside me for the second time. 

Dave lay quietly on top of me for a few minutes. He gingerly removed the tape from my mouth and took out my gag. After doing this, he stopped and looked up at the bare wall behind me and frowned. He was in deep thought, and after a minute or two, he spoke.

"What's wrong?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"I still see blood on that wall." He said softly. I looked and saw that the wall was clean. There was no blood.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"The older daughter, she was 18, she got ambushed in this room." He said somberly.

"What?"

"She had come home late that night. She was on a date. She came through here to the kitchen to get a drink of water, probably to rinse her pathetic little boyfriend's vile saliva from her mouth."

"Huh?" I was perplexed. How did he know all this?

"She got her water and was going to take it back to her bedroom. He caught her right about here. In a decisive moment of fight or flight, she chose the former and smashed the glass against his face cutting him badly." It seemed that Dave recounted the events from memory as I sat in horror listening to his story. How did he know so much? Then it occurred to me. The scar! Oh my God, was it him? I really became frightened as I realized that I was face to face with a maniacal killer. 

"Please, let's not talk about this. Can we change the subject." I appealed to him. He continued anyway.

"That was HIS blood on the wall over there. He killed her on this very spot. This very spot where I fucked you." Dave said with his characteristic monotone voice.

"Oh God!" I wailed. I shut my eyes and tried to drown out the horrible sights and sounds in my head. My imagination was running wild. Then I had terrifying visions of my own gruesome demise. Was he going to kill me now too? 

"They did a good job cleaning the carpet." He went on to say, "They called him an ax murderer. Hah! He only used an ax to chop them up afterwards. He used a knife to kill them. One just like this!" Dave pressed one hand down on my throat and snatched up his knife with his other hand, placing the point against my cheek. I could barley breath and there was no way I could scream. "He liked the intimacy of killing his prey with a knife." He went on with his story or his "confession" without missing a beat, "He liked the closeness the knife afforded him. It's silent and swift. It's a wonderful tool."

My teeth chattered as I trembled uncontrollably. I knew that I was doing to die at that point. Dave lowered his face to my ear and lowered whispered to me. "I know what you are thinking. You think it's me, right?" I nervously shook my head in the negative. "Yes, you do. I didn't do it you know. I would have like to have done it, but I didn't. I am just an avid fan of his work." Dave loosened his grip on my neck. I began to gasp for air and cry at the same time.

"Why are you telling me all this?" I asked sobbingly.


Open House



It may have taken forever, but Giselle had finally found The Perfect One: her heart swelled with pride as she thought about it.

The pretty dishwater blonde nearly pranced up the steps to the front door and sashayed inside. THIS was going to be the one, she thought. THIS was the property that was going to make her enough money for a Corvette AND a trip to Cabo. Yes, she could almost smell it. The smell of money...the intoxicating scent of sweet, sweet hundred dollar bills...

The house was empty. Giselle felt another surge of excitement. Good! She was the first one at the open house. She now had a huge advantage over all the other suckers who might show up. She spent twenty minutes exploring every nook and cranny of the beautiful 3-bedroom, 2-bath split level home. It was just PERFECT. The seller was asking way below cost, and Giselle was going to make a mountain of pretty pennies in the resale! She was practically shaking with greed and excitement.

"Hi. Are you here for the open house?"

"Oh!"

Giselle turned around and smoothed her skirt down as a nervous habit. "Hi," she said, shoving her hand forward. "I'm Giselle. Real estate investor." She fumbled in her Chanel handbag for a business card, which she then pressed into the man's hand.

He was handsome. Tall. Salt and pepper hair; keen blue eyes. Giselle found herself strangely attracted to him right away. Not in a sexual way, but in a friendly grandfather way. She liked him, right down to his smart gray business suit.

"Colton," he replied. "I'm representing the owners of the house today. They couldn't be here."

"I'm not a realtor," he added quickly, when a flash of doubt clouded Giselle's eyes. "Don't worry. This is a purely private sale."

"Great." Giselle grinned. "I--I'm really interested in the house," she said. Then she began mentally kicking herself. Don't act all that interested, she chided silently. Act unsure, and then he'll want to negotiate!

"So, have you looked at the house?"

Colton began gesturing toward the large kitchen behind him.

"Oh yes, I--I was just looking around. It's beautiful. Really beautiful."

Giselle winced. There she went again, letting her excitement show through. She was never going to get anywhere this way.

"You are a very beautiful young lady."

Giselle was caught off guard.

"Excuse me?" 

Colton smiled. He was really, really handsome. Almost heart wrenchingly so. Giselle felt the kind of pitter-patter she only remembered feeling back in high school. It was creepy in a way; she had never, ever felt that pitter-patter when looking at a man clearly in his fifties!

"I'm sorry, that was quite forward of me. I was just admiring your stunning beauty. There is a wonderful innocence about you. I hope you don't mind my saying that."

Giselle swallowed and began smoothing her skirt down again. "No, um...thank you. I'm flattered."

Colton tilted his head to the side and scrutinized her face. "How old are you, if I may ask?"

"Um--nineteen."

"Mmm. Young for a real estate investor, aren't you?" Colton's eyes twinkled. "I mean, most people in your line of work are middle-aged already. It's a calling most people find late in life, after watching too many late-night infomercials."

"Oh no," Giselle blabbered, laughing, "I usually watch porn late at night."

Her hand flew to her mouth in horror. Ohmigod, did I just say that?

Colton laughed.

"Never would have guessed from looking at you," he smiled. "But I must say, that's quite a turn-on."

Giselle was completely wide-eyed now, her face flushed and a familiar tingling beginning in her lower region. She felt exposed; naked; dirty; and surprisingly enough, horny as hell. "I--I--I'm sorry," she stammered. "I don't know what came over me. I never should have said something like that. Excuse me."

She dashed into the nearby bathroom, shut the door and sank to the floor with a gasp of horror. What is wrong with me?? she exclaimed inwardly. What am I doing? What is going on? This can't be happening!

It was at least 20 minutes before Giselle emerged from the bathroom, and a young couple had arrived to look at the house. Colton was showing them around. He tossed more than one glance in Giselle's direction before they all disappeared downstairs.

Giselle tried to take in calming breaths, and began looking casually around the kitchen. She opened cabinets, looked in drawers, did whatever she could to make it look like she was examining the home. But all the while, she was painstakingly aware that Colton was downstairs. Her lower region was still tingling, throbbing, and absolutely pulsating with heat. Giselle suddenly found herself imagining unbelievable thoughts, wondering how large Colton's dick was and if he was married or had a family.

Ohmigod, I'm having dirty thoughts about an old man! she thought. But, the other side of her brain countered, he is an extremely well-preserved, sexy as hell old man. He was handsome and sexy in a Sean Connery or George Clooney kind of way. A way that really turned Giselle on. Fucking him would be like fucking a father figure or a professor, something she had always fantasized about during the past few months as a freshman in college.

A small drop of juice slipped from around the edges of Giselle's panties and began to slowly move down her leg. She quickly reached down and wiped it away with her hand. Even more blood began rushing to her face as she realized just how horny she was. 

Nearly forty-five minutes passed before Giselle decided to go downstairs and see what was taking so long. She felt shaky and anxious, not sure if she should leave or stick around to negotiate the terms of sale. She WANTED this house more than anything. But the sexual tension was driving her wild. She thought desperately of being home in her bedroom with a vibrator and a dirty video. Heck, at this point she wouldn't need the dirty video OR the vibrator. She could slip into the bathroom at this very house and get herself off with her fingers in a matter of seconds...and slip into a pulsing, trembling orgasm.

Giselle had to shake off the temptation. She wanted that orgasm so bad, but she was going to stick it out and make sure she got this deal.

The downstairs was quiet and dark. 

"Colton?" she called tentatively. "Colton?"

There was no response.

Giselle ducked her head into each room one at a time, flipping on the light and finding nothing. Finally, she opened the bathroom door. There was a thump and an exclamation of surprise, and Giselle nearly screamed.

"Oh God."

It took Giselle a second to realize what she was seeing. Colton looked equally surprised. He was sitting on the closed toilet, pants down and his swollen cock in his hand. His face was flushed, like he'd been close to cumming. Now he just looked plain sheepish, trying to quickly shove his member back into his pants.

"I--am--so s-sorry," he stammered. "Excuse me. I--uh--"

"I--I didn't realize," Giselle stuttered. She knew she should leave, but her eyes were glued to Colton's crotch and his amazing cock. She had never seen one so huge, swollen and...tempting.

"This is embarrassing," Colton continued, and as he got his dick jammed awkwardly back into his pants, Giselle was finally able to tear her eyes away and look into his face.

"No, I'm the one who should be embarrassed," she replied. "I'm sorry, I should have knocked. I just didn't know..."

Colton now stood to his full height and looked more like the sophisticated man he had been before. Well, all except for the bulge in his pants. Giselle tried not to look at it.

"Giselle," he said softly. "It's not your fault. I'm sorry, I--well, as I'm sure you've figured out, I was just so taken by your beauty..." he paused and his eyes lingered momentarily on her breasts. They were peeking voluptuously out the top of her tight green tube top, barely concealed by her professional black business jacket. Giselle felt more juice beginning to drip around the edges of her panties.

"Colton, I--" Giselle opened her mouth, but couldn't seem to say anymore. She looked Colton up and down, her heart racing and her pussy throbbing. Even her tits felt like they were on fire now.

What happened next was unexplainable. Giselle was practically a virgin...she had lost her virginity only a couple of months ago to a jerk at a party, and had only had sex once since then. Neither time had been very pleasant.

Giselle found herself walking towards Colton and slowly unzipping his pants. He opened his mouth to say something, but she shushed him and continued the agonizing process of pulling his pants around his ankles. Then, it was his boxers; and then, in a moment that nearly made her shiver with delight, she grasped his hard cock in both of her hands. It was hot & burning. She felt him tremble.

"Giselle, please don't do this," he begged. "You are young and innocent, and--I can't possibly--"

Giselle didn't listen to him. She felt herself drawn, as if by this inexplicable force, and soon she was on her knees, leaning forward and taking the length of Colton's cock in her mouth. He let out an animal-like moan and thrust his strong hands into her hair, ramming her face against his crotch. She loved it. The smell of his private parts, the sensation of his cock pressing against the back of her throat, the juice that was now pouring from between her legs, completely saturating her panties and her pantyhose.

She sucked for what seemed like an hour, bobbing her head up and down on his cock, grasping his balls in her hand and caressing them with a fervor she had never felt before. Before long, Colton had fallen against the wall and was leaning there, panting, moaning and pulling her hair with his gigantic hands. Pre-cum trickled down the back of her throat.

Giselle was now struggling, shaking, trying to keep herself from cumming already. Her pussy lips her swollen and trembling, and she had to use all of her willpower to stop the convulsions that threatened to attack her. Finally, she couldn't take anymore. 

Standing up, Giselle removed herself abruptly from Colton's cock and stepped back several feet.

"I'm sorry--this is wrong--" Colton said suddenly, and began to reach for his pants. He looked shaken and horrified.

"No," Giselle panted. "No." She looked Colton straight in the eye and opened her mouth to speak. "I--I--we are not done yet. No way in hell. No way in hell."

Giselle gently slipped out of her business jacket, exposing her tan shoulders. She saw Colton's eyes lock onto her flawless skin. She did a slow striptease, until she was down to nothing but her tube top and her pantyhose, with her lacy black panties underneath. "Do you want to fuck me, Colton?" she asked in a low voice. "Do you want to stick your cock in my pussy?"

Colton trembled. His swollen cock rose even further. "Giselle, please, don't." He was begging now, his blue eyes wide. "Please, this is wrong."

"Don't you ever do anything that's wrong?" she asked. Giselle suddenly rushed forward, pressing her body against Colton's and feeling his cock ram into the damp area between her legs.

Colton seemed too stunned to respond. But this time, he recovered quickly. Suddenly he gave up all control and leaned down to ravage Giselle's swollen lips in a heated kiss. She pressed herself insistently upon him, until they were both heaving, panting & grunting between kisses. His cock was sliding in and out from between her legs, rubbing her clit until she thought she would scream.

"Oh God Colton," she moaned.

"Giselle," he replied desperately. His hands moved to her tits now, and ripped her tube top down until her 38 C breasts tumbled out. The nipples were hard as tacks, pink and desperate to be pinched. 

"Touch me Colton," she begged. "Grab me. Touch me. Please!"

His hands devoured her breasts in a barrage of groping, squeezing, pinching and stroking, while his mouth still ravaged her face. Giselle thought for sure she was going to cum now.

"Giselle," Colton moaned between kisses, "I--I--I c-can't hold out much longer. I've got to cum!"

"No," she demanded forcefully, grabbing his cock and suffocating it in a deathlike grip. "You can't cum until you're inside of me. I want you to fuck me."

"Giselle, I want you so bad," he cried in response, and began ripping his own clothes off like an animal. His entire tanned, weathered body stood naked and flushed before her within seconds.

"Wait, there's not enough room in here."

Giselle broke off their kissing again and stepped back. She led Colton out of the bathroom, and they raced desperately down the hall, hands all over each other, breathing heavily.

In the laundry room, Giselle stripped off the rest of her clothes and threw herself on top of the washer and dryer. Colton quickly lowered himself on top of her, and they resumed their ravenous kissing. Her nipples bored into his chests like nails. Their hands explored each other roughly, desperately, grabbing each other's ass cheeks and jamming their bodies together.

"Oh Colton," Giselle cried, "this is so wrong."

"And you love it don't you, you dirty little girl?" he growled back, taking one of her tits in his hand and squeezing it until she nearly cried in pain.

"Yes, I love it," she groaned. "I love it! I want you to fuck me! Fuck me now, Colton! FUCK ME NOW."

Without even waiting for his response, Giselle grasped Colton's member, which had easily swelled to eleven or twelve inches, and crushed it into her waiting pussy. It slid in like a knife through butter, and they both cried out in ecstasy.

"God, yes!"

"I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before."

Colton pulled himself up on his hands and knees, with his cock still planted firmly inside of Giselle, and began thrusting heavily. Giselle felt her entire body rock with the motion, and lightning bolts of pleasure seared through her body.

"Oh, yes," she screamed. "Fuck me harder," she begged, "fuck me harder!"

Colton had to work to keep himself from cumming, as Giselle's burning hot cunt swallowed him in a wave of nirvana with every thrust. She was young and incredibly tight, her dripping lips nearly suffocating his cock. He could tell she'd barely ever been fucked before. It felt incredible! She was heaving, swinging her hips to meet him with every thrust. The washer and dryer banged loudly against the wall as they both screamed, Giselle squeezing her own tits and then squeezing his, both of them rocking in a heated, mammalian fervor.

"Colton, I'm going to cum," she screamed. 

"Not yet." Colton began to fuck her harder, and lifted one hand to crush a nipple between his fingers. He wanted the pain to distract Giselle from her impending orgasm.

"Ohhhhh," she moaned. Her eyes were beginning to roll back in her head, her hips were bucking faster and faster...Colton felt like he was about to lose control too.

Then, in an instant, it all happened. One of Giselle's flailing hands hit the 'on' button on the washer, and it rumbled on, adding a rapid tremble to their already psychotic fucking motion. The sensation was too much for both of them.

"Colton!" she screamed.

"Giselle!"

They came at the same time, writhing and screaming like animals. Giselle felt her lips contract rapidly on his gigantic cock, and felt his warm cum gush into her body. A shot of cum grazed her G-spot, and she rocketed into an even hotter orgasm. Her body kept shaking violently, sucking every last drop of cum from Colton as he groaned and cried out her name over and over.

They came for nearly a minute, both lost in the bright white light and sensations like they had never experienced before. Then, when the sensations stopped, they both collapsed, gasping for breath. The washer continued to rumble, gently shaking their intertwined bodies as they lay locked together in sweat.

It was several minutes before a noise broke the quiet.

"Hello? Anyone here? Hello?"

A voice called from the top of the stairs.

Someone was here to tour the house.

Colton and Giselle both rose quickly from the washing machine, dashed to the bathroom and began dressing themselves. Neither of them spoke at first.

"So you'll take one hundred and five thousand, then?" Giselle asked casually.

"Make it one hundred and eight, and you have a deal."

Giselle was the first to be dressed, and she quickly patted down her hair, said, "I'll come back to sign the papers tomorrow," walked to the house's back door, and left.

Colton finished dressing, called to the visitor that he'd be right up, and began mounting the stairs.

"Hi. Are you here for the open house?" he asked. "I'm sorry, but the house has just been sold."

The washing machine continued to rumble in the distance. 



Open House



"Hello Carly, my name is Mr. Johnson. I'm calling in regards to your listing on Maple Drive. I'm prepared to make an offer based on the description online, but I do want to see the property before proceeding. I will be in town on business tomorrow, and have a few hours between my last meeting and my return flight. I hope that we can arrange to meet for a walk-through at 7:30pm. If that will be possible for you, please return my call, and I'll look forward to meeting you tomorrow."

That was the only message on my voice mail when I arrived at the office yesterday morning. I was new to the real estate business, and was still waiting for my first sale a few months after getting started. When I originally thought of getting into real estate, the market was incredibly hot, and I was sure it would be a great way to save money for graduate school without having to put in too many hours. Unfortunately, things had cooled down since then, and I didn't yet have any sales to show for my enthusiasm and hard work.

Needless to say, I immediately followed up on this lead. It wasn't every day that someone called out of the blue, ready to make an offer! I normally wouldn't agree to meet a new client for the first time at such a late hour (it would be after dark this time of year), but I decided to trust my gut feeling about the man from the businesslike tone of his voice mail, and go ahead with setting up the meeting. I returned his call, and when he didn't answer, left him a message confirming that I would be delighted to meet him at 7:30, and gave him my cell phone number in case anything came up.

Yesterday had dragged on after I placed that call and went to my classes. Today, after a few hours of homework, I turned my focus to the meeting, and the potential of my first sale. I wanted everything to be perfect, and decided I should arrive at the house on Maple Drive early. I grabbed a quick dinner on campus at about 6:00, and then went back to my apartment to pick out the perfect outfit. Since getting into real estate, I had quickly learned that appearance was critical. Some people talk about 'location, location, location', but appearances - of the house, of the neighborhood, of the realtor - can make or break a deal.

I was proud of the careful staging I had done of the vacant house on Maple Drive, asking the sellers to leave certain pieces of furniture and decor. Now it was time to present myself appropriately to this particular potential buyer. From his voice mail, I knew that he was a confident, well-off businessman, professional and no-nonsense. So I changed out of my college-student attire into the one suit I owned, a fitted black jacket and matching knee-length skirt. I chose a red silk blouse to wear under the jacket, and then settled on black stockings with a subtle fishnet pattern, and black heels. As I stepped in front of the mirror to do my hair, I enjoyed the feeling of confidence that washed over me. I looked professional, on par with what I expected from this mystery man, but I also looked hot, my 22-year-old body filling out every curve of this suit perfectly. My shoulder-length blonde hair now pinned back, I headed out to meet him.

I arrived at the house at 7:15 - plenty of time to do a quick walk-through to make sure everything was in order. I turned on lights here and there, lit a few candles, and turned on some music in the living room. I made sure that the windows on the south side of the house were closed, to keep out the road noise that was really the only negative about the house's location. Everything was ready, so I stood by the front window, watching for him to arrive.

At exactly 7:30, I saw a nondescript sedan pull up in front of the house, and watched as a man emerged from the driver's side. Dark as it was, I didn't see him clearly until he stepped onto the porch into the light from the house. Damn, he was handsome! I was glad I had decided to wait inside and let him ring the doorbell, because it took me a moment to regain my professional demeanor. He was tall, probably 6'3", with an athletic body which looked spectacular in his designer suit. He had striking blue eyes and close-cropped brown hair, with a bit of gray in his five-o-clock shadow. I guessed he was probably in his late 30s, and that's as far as I got with admiring his appearance before he rang the doorbell.

Taking a few deep breaths and walking slowly the few steps towards the door, I greeted him with a welcoming gesture, inviting him into the house as I said, "Mr. Johnson, I presume?"

"Yes, thank you for meeting me here, Carly - I recognize your picture from your website."

"My pleasure, it's no problem at all," and then, trying to sound a little less ridiculously eager, "please, take as much time as you'd like to look around, and let me know if you have any questions."

"Well, I reviewed the listing thoroughly online, and saw all of the pictures, so I think all I need is a quick walk-through to make sure I'd like to go ahead with an offer."

"Great, well, let's start by going through the main level, and then I'll show you the upstairs, with the wonderful master suite."

As we walked through the house, I was again impressed with his confidence. What I had sensed in his voice mail was obviously accurate - here was a man who knew what he wanted, and had the wherewithal to get it. I also couldn't help finding myself attracted to him, although obviously the deal was too important to me to do anything so silly as hit on him.

The upstairs of the house really was quite nice, I thought to myself as we walked through the master suite. It had been a bit of a fight, but I had convinced the sellers to leave their king-sized bed, complete with its beautiful silk sheets, to help show off the room to potential buyers. Maybe someday I'll be able to own a house like this, after college... 

This daydream was abruptly interrupted by a surprising feeling, Mr. Johnson's hand on my ass. At first I froze, and he in turn froze as well, but I quickly melted again, and his gentle pat became a firmer squeeze. I had turned myself into a steely professional in order to make the deal, but if he was going to be the one to make the first move, I certainly wasn't going to turn him down.

Both of his hands were now moving over my body as I leaned into him, my back still to him. He quickly found my breasts, kneading them through my jacket and blouse, and I responded by grinding my ass against his crotch. The sexual tension was unlike anything I had ever experienced, and was only accentuated by the impropriety of it all, this naughtiness in business attire.

I attempted to turn around to face him, but his hands told me that he wanted me to remain where I was, and I complied with his confident direction. He peeled off my jacket, and his expert fingers quickly unbuttoned my blouse and were now inside my bra, squeezing my nipples. I could feel his erection growing, and continued to push back against him as he pleasured me. One of his hands now dropped to my skirt, grabbing at the fabric to pull it up. He seemed pleased to discover that my stockings were only just-over knee high, and began to explore the skin of my inner thigh with his warm fingers.

As I responded to his caresses by letting my head fall back against his chest, he began licking and nibbling my earlobe. The combination of all of this attention soon had me very wet, a fact he discovered as his fingers reached my panties. As if in response to my wetness, he kicked things into a higher, more agressive gear. He walked towards the bed, forcing me to walk as well, and when we arrived at the edge of the glorious king-sized bed, he pushed me down so that my forearms were pressed against the comforter, but I was still on my feet, my ass pressed against his crotch.

I felt him move away from me as I helplessly ground my ass against the air. I soon realized, even without looking back to see him, that he was removing his clothes, and when I felt his hands on my body again, he was pushing my skirt up to my waist. As he began exploring the edges of my panties with his fingers, teasing me with touches to my ass and inner thighs, I pulled off my unbuttoned blouse and bra and threw them to the floor. He then tugged at my panties, pulling them down and away from my wet pussy until I was able to kick them off to one side.

I let out a whimper as I felt him pull away from me again, but soon realized that I had no cause for complaint. He had knelt behind me, and now, with one strong hand on each of my thighs, pushed my legs further apart. I let my head fall to the bed as his tongue first touched the skin of my ass, and traced a wet line directly to my pussy. He eagerly slurped up the juices that were already trickling out of my sex, and then began a slow, steady stroking from my clit to my pussy lips.

All the tension of the day - sexual and otherwise - melted away as this man ate me out. He soon had me moaning and bucking, and had to grab my hips firmly to keep in contact with me as I began to lose control. After several minutes of his steady tongue strokes, he turned his tongue's focus entirely to my clit, and inserted two fingers deep into me. But rather than speed up his motions, as I expected him to, he instead slowed, and finally stopped, pulling away from me and standing up. He gently touched my arm and motioned for me to stand up as well.

For the first time since he had made his move, we were now face to face. He was completely naked, his muscular body just as hot as I had imagined it to be when I first saw him. The raw sexuality I felt was unlike anything I had experienced before. The sight and feel of this man before me, the lingering sensations of his fingers on my body and his tongue on my clit - I was ready for anything. Still wearing my skirt, which was pushed up to my waist, and my just-over-the-knee stockings, I watched as he climbed onto the bed and settled himself on his back, with his head on the pillows.

I climbed onto the bed beside him and began to fondle his cock with both hands. It was already half-hard, but quickly grew so that it took both of my hands to fully encircle it. I took the tip, and then a few more inches, into my mouth, and began bobbing up and down on it as I firmly stroked the base with both hands. After a few minutes, impressed at his stamina, I began fondling his balls with one hand and taking a bit more of his shaft into my mouth, swirling my tongue around his cock as I stroked.

Completely engrossed in sucking his huge cock, I hardly noticed when he first tried to get my attention. A slap on the ass remedied that, and I pulled myself away from his cock long enough for him to grab me by the hips, position one of my knees on each side of him, and pull my pussy down onto his face. I had always fantasized about enjoying a 69 position, but never had a boyfriend who wanted to spend that much time eating me out! His tongue again exploring my wet pussy, I turned my attention back to his cock, this time taking as much of his length as I could before stroking up and down.

As his tongue explored the inner lips of my pussy, I moaned onto his cock. I was again amazed at his stamina as I felt my first orgasm coming, but he was still holding back as I sucked him. I let myself go, and this time he let me finish, forcing myself down onto his tongue and coating him with my juices. In my moment of ecstasy, I wasn't able to keep my mouth on his cock, but continued stroking him furiously with one hand as I screamed out.

As I finished, he let me fall to the bed and again stood up, his hard cock jutting out from his body as he walked to the foot of the bed. He now grabbed both of my ankles and pulled me to the edge of the bed, giving himself full access to plunge into my pussy. But first he teased me. After putting one of my feet on each of his shoulders, he used his hands to draw the head of his cock back and forth against my pussy lips for what seemed like an eternity. Even though I had just cum, this delay was excruciating - I wanted him inside of me, fucking me!

Mind reader that he seemed to be, he thrust fully into me as soon as I had the thought. I couldn't believe the feeling of fullness as he began to stroke his huge cock in and out of my still dripping pussy. He took hold of my ankles again, and used that grip to occasionally move my legs, changing the angle of his insertion, as we fucked for what seemed like an eternity.

Suddenly, his demeanor changed, and I guessed that he was finally nearing his climax, after holding off for so very long. Just when I thought he would begin pounding me more furiously, he instead pulled out and backed up one step, giving me room to get up and stand again with my ass to him and my hands on the bed. I had longed for this penetration from behind ever since he first seduced me from that angle. 

As soon as I was ready, my legs spread wide for him, he plunged into me again, reaching a depth inside of me that took my breath away. Once there, he moved slowly at first, grinding his hips against my ass. His hands reached around and grabbed both of my breasts, kneading them firmly as he began to stroke in and out of me. Then, as he began thrusting more furiously, one hand reached for my clit, pinching it between his thumb and finger. I had thought nothing could surpass my orgasm from the 69 position, but I was wrong. This deep penetration from behind, his increasing intensity as he approached his own climax, his strong fingers on my nipples and clit, it was overwhelming, an all-encompassing pleasure that covered every inch of my body.

As a long, deep orgasm went through me, he finally came as well, shouting out as he pulled out of me and shot his load all over my ass. Completely spent, I collapsed to the bed. My first coherent thought was to realize that I didn't even know this man's first name. I rolled over to ask him this question, only to find him already gone. How long had it taken me to rejoin the conscious world after that orgasm? 

I jumped up from the bed and ran to the window. As I pulled back the curtains, I just managed to see his car pull away from the front of the house. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something on the dresser - a business card. It had no company logo, no information other than his name - still just 'Mr. Johnson' - and the same phone number he had left in his voice mail the day before.

Thoroughly perplexed, but also thoroughly satisfied, I slowly got dressed, locked up the house, and went back to my apartment. It wasn't until I was in the shower later that evening that I realized the real question that remained unanswered - did I make the sale?



Open House: By Appointment Only



"Hey, babe – file these for me, would you?" I glanced up, startled, as an avalanche of paperwork spilled across my desk. 

"Oh, come on, Blake!" I protested. "It's almost five o'clock, and I've got a date tonight! Besides, I'm not your secretary. Why can't you do it yourself?" 

"I'm meeting an important client for dinner," he declared haughtily. "But if you aren't willing to help me, I'm sure I can find someone else who will…" 

"No… I'll do it…" I agreed reluctantly, though inwardly I was seething. It had been six months since I'd earned my real estate license, but Blake persisted in treating me like his personal secretary. Still, I really needed this job – and as he had implied, there were plenty of people looking for work. People who would be only too happy to type, file, fetch coffee, or do whatever other menial tasks he assigned them in exchange for a handful of leads.

"That's my girl!" he chuckled, patting my shoulder and favoring me with one of his gleaming smiles. "I'm sure you can get this done in no time and still make your date. Oh, and wear something nice – it wouldn't hurt you to show a little more skin now and then. Might help your sales, too." I stiffened but bit back a vitriolic reply, knowing that it would do no good. Ever since I'd started working for him, Blake had made a habit of standing just a bit too close, "accidentally" brushing up against me when passing in the corridor, allowing his eyes to linger too long on my legs and breasts. Nothing overt that I could report – but he made me uncomfortable all the same. 

With a final flash of his steely blue eyes and professionally whitened teeth, Blake wished me a pleasant weekend and breezed out the front door, leaving me alone in the office. Sighing, I began straightening the mountain of appraisals and inspection reports, knowing that it would take at least an hour to get everything sorted and placed into the correct files. When the phone rang, I answered it automatically, not even registering that, as it was now past five, I could have let the machine handle it. 

"Hello. May I speak with a Mr. Blake… Richards?" the voice on the line asked tentatively. 

"I'm sorry. Mr. Richardson has already left for the evening." I corrected him, reaching for a pen. "Would you like to leave a message?" 

"Oh. That's too bad," he said, "I was hoping he could show me the house at the end of Canyon Oaks Drive." 

My mind kicked into overdrive at his words. The property in question had been vacant for over a year now – and seemed likely to remain so for quite some time, given the current economy. The owners were asking 2.3 million and refused to budge on the price. But what a house! The magnificent Victorian structure had been built around the turn of the century, outfitted in opulent style with intricately carved woodwork, Persian carpets, and exquisite tile. While it had been extensively updated with new plumbing, wiring, and appliances, the classic appearance of the original had been preserved. If I could manage to sell it… I smiled, mentally calculating the commission the sale would bring. 

"Had you already spoken with Mr. Richardson about the property?" I inquired coolly, silently praying that he had not. 

"Oh, no. I just saw his name on an MLS listing for the property," the caller assured me. 

"Well then, perhaps I could show you the house?" I suggested, trying to keep my voice calm though my heart was racing. After spending the past six months slogging through the endless negotiations and paperwork of foreclosures and short-sales (for very little commission) this opportunity seemed like a dream come true! A momentary twinge of guilt struck me at the thought of Blake's fury if he knew I had poached his client – but I assuaged my guilt by telling myself that they'd never met or even spoken before. Besides, Blake need never know. 

"Sure, but I'm in a hurry – I have to catch a flight in the morning. Is there any chance you could show me tonight?" 

I glanced at my watch and made a few lightning calculations. If I left right now, I would just have time to dash home for a quick shower and a change of clothes. I could meet the prospective client and still make my dinner with Ethan – or call and cancel, if it looked like the sale might go through. 

"How's seven?" I offered. 

"Fantastic! I'll meet you there," he replied. 

As I hung up the phone, I spotted Blake's filing. With an exasperated grimace, I swept the stacks of papers into a drawer – I could always come back in the morning to finish them. Or… If I actually pulled off a big sale like this, maybe I'd be promoted - and Blake would be doing my filing! I chuckled at the fantasy while rifling through Blake's desk for the lock box combination. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

An hour later, I pulled up to the ornate wrought-iron gates of the estate, armed with the gate code and key box combination from Blake's Rolodex. Sweet perfume from the surrounding citrus groves drifted in through the car's open windows and followed me up the long driveway to the house. I still had a little time before the client arrived, so I dashed through the house, turning on lights and opening windows to flush out the stale, musty odors of a place that had been closed up too long. That done, I turned a critical eye on the house itself – it looked nice, but a thick layer of dust had accumulated on the antique furnishings the owners had left behind. Congratulating myself on my forethought, I dashed to my car again for a bucket of cleaning supplies. There wasn't much time, but I could at least mitigate the worst of the dust, shine the mirrors, and wipe a few stains from the kitchen tile. 

"So… does the maid service come with the house? If so, I'll take it!" 

I whirled, startled by the teasing voice behind me. I'd been so caught up in cleaning that I hadn't heard him arrive. A tall man stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the setting sun. He stepped into the house, revealing dark hair just beginning to gray at the temples, strikingly blue eyes, and a tasteful but expensive suit that accentuated his athletic figure. Blushing, I dropped a cleaning rag into the bucket and straightened, smoothing my short skirt and extending my hand. 

"Good evening! You must be Mr. Corbett?" I greeted him. 

"Please, call me Andrew." He smiled, his eyes locking with mine in a way that made me shiver. "And you must be Kate. If I may say so, you look very nice this evening." He raked his gaze over my body, almost as if he could see through my clothing, through my lingerie, to the vulnerable flesh beneath. Taking my proffered hand, he bent and kissed it ever so gently, his lips warm and soft.

"Umm… Thank you," I stammered, flustered – but also pleased. Stung by Blake's earlier words, I had taken special pains with my wardrobe tonight, selecting a slim-fitting black skirt, low-cut blouse, and high-heeled pumps instead of my usual conservative suit and comfortable, low-heeled shoes. Perhaps he'd been right – dressing a little sexier might help me land the sale. Besides, there wouldn't be time to change before my date, and I wanted to make a good impression. I'd only met Ethan a few weeks ago, and this was to be our fourth date. 

"So, shall we begin with the kitchen?" I turned and started through the doorway. "The granite countertops were installed three years ago, along with stainless steel sinks and all-new appliances…" I glanced over my shoulder to see if Andrew was following me, but he seemed rooted to the spot, staring at me with an almost predatory gleam in his eye. "The kitchen…?" I repeated, gesturing toward the door. 

"Perhaps we could start with the bedrooms," he countered, a confident smirk crossing his lips. The first tendrils of uneasiness prickled at me as I turned toward the stairs, but I told myself that I was being foolish - imagining things. 

"Of course," I said, setting my foot on the bottom step. "There are five bedrooms upstairs, plus two bonus rooms downstairs that have been used as a study and a billiards room – but could easily be converted to bedrooms as well. The master bedroom has an en suite bath, while each pair of smaller bedrooms shares a bath." I started up, attempting to draw his attention to the hand-carved newel posts and banisters – but the architecture he seemed most interested in was my own, and I caught his gaze sliding up the backs of my legs. 

"The… uh… master bedroom is right through here," I stammered, directing him through a set of French doors. 

"Very nice," he purred, coming up behind me, his hands wrapping around my waist and pressing me to him. 

"Hey! Stop that!" I protested, twisting away from him. "What are you doing?" 

"Only taking what is offered." He smiled again, the easy warmth with which he had first greeted me replaced by a cold hunger. Frightened now, I backed away – but was stopped by the edge of the huge four-poster bed. Darting nervous glances around the room, I saw that the only escape was the door through which we had entered – and he stood between me and the door. 

"If you'll excuse me a moment…" I gulped, edging toward the open door. "I just need to make a quick… phone call…" For a moment, I thought he was going to let me pass – but no. Effortlessly, he picked me up and threw me onto the bed, the impact raising a cloud of dust from the heavy velvet coverlet and knocking the wind out of me. I shrank back against the pillows, cowering from the figure that loomed over me while I gasped for breath. Slowly, he began unbuckling his belt. "Please… no…" I whispered, mouth suddenly dry. His lips twisted in a cruel grin and he stepped closer, sliding the belt free of his pants. The bed creaked and shifted as he climbed up beside me, one knee planted firmly on my stomach, pinning me to the mattress. He easily captured both my hands, lashing them together with the belt despite the struggles that left me red-faced and panting. 

Finally, satisfied with his work, he rose from the bed. I expected him to begin removing his clothing – or mine – but instead, he stepped to the dresser and pulled a length of rope from one of the drawers. He paused to flash me a warning glance, then dragged a chair to the center of the room. Standing on the chair, he was able to thread the rope through an eye bolt in the ceiling. While he was occupied, I edged – ever so quietly – toward the foot of the bed. Although my wrists were tied, my legs were still free, and I dared to hope that I might get past him, if only his back would remain turned for a few more seconds. But of course, it didn't. I had scarcely touched one foot to the carpet when he turned, scooping me up in his arms and crushing me against his broad chest. 

"Not so fast, my dear!" he laughed. "The night is young, and I've got so much planned for you!" Still chuckling, he secured the rope to my bound wrists, pulling on it until my arms were stretched high over my head and I teetered awkwardly in my high-heeled shoes. "That's better!" he said, stepping back to admire his handiwork, "But it still needs something more…" He cocked his head to the side, thinking, then returned to the open dresser drawer. After rummaging for a moment, he returned with a pair of thick, black leather cuffs which he buckled snugly around my ankles. A short metal bar snapped into place between them, locking my legs slightly more than shoulder-width apart. "Perfect!" he declared, rising to stand behind me, the bulge in his trousers pressed against my ass. His arms again encircled my waist, this time sliding upward to stroke my breasts through the thin fabric of my blouse. 

"What's going on here?" Both Andrew and I jumped at the unexpected intrusion, our eyes snapping to the open door. A familiar figure stood there, watching us with a sardonic gleam in his eyes. 

"Blake! Oh, Thank God you're here! You've got to help me!" I cried desperately, neither knowing nor caring how he came to be there. "Please, Blake. Help me!" 

"Kate? What are you doing here?" he asked with mock incredulity, striding confidently into the room. Andrew stepped back, allowing Blake to approach. But instead of freeing me, Blake stopped short, looking me up and down. "Not bad," he mused. "I see you took my advice about your wardrobe. Could still be better, but it's a definite improvement." 

"Blake… please…" I whimpered, frightened by the evident lack of concern on the faces of both men. 

"Ah… of course." Blake said. "I would introduce you, but it appears that you and Andrew have already met. I did mention that I was meeting an important client tonight, didn't I?" He turned to Andrew. "Started without me, did you, mate?" he asked. 

Andrew gave a semi-apologetic shrug, his face totally unrepentant. 

"Well then, I guess I'd better see what I've been missing," Blake said, sliding up behind me. He slipped one hand down the front of my blouse, fondling my breasts, while with the other hand, he hiked up my short skirt to finger the delicate lace panties underneath. "Nice…" he purred, his breath warm against my ear. 

"Let me go!" I shouted. "You can't do this to me!" 

"Oh, but I can," he whispered, his lips brushing the back of my neck. "Who's going to miss you? You have no roommates. No close friends. No, my dear. I'm afraid you're quite alone." Tears stung my eyes, blurring my vision, as I realized that he was correct. Or was he? 

"No… Ethan will be looking for me! I'm meeting him for dinner tonight, and when I don't show up, he'll call the police!" I declared triumphantly, though I was not at all certain that he would do so. More likely, he would just assume that I was working late and had forgotten to call. Still, all I had to do was convince them of it… 

"Oh, I don't think we need to worry about Ethan," Blake laughed, pulling my cell phone from his pocket. "I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of texting him before I came up. I'm afraid your dinner date has been cancelled. You wouldn't want the poor boy to worry, now would you?"

I closed my eyes in despair, knowing that no rescue would be forthcoming. This marvelous house I had been so eager to show was isolated in the middle of a large, walled estate – there was no-one close enough to hear me scream. 

"Well, now," Blake said, abruptly releasing me. "The others will be here soon. We'd better get her ready." 

Others? Ready? For what? I quivered, wondering what he had in mind – and dreading it. 

I didn't have long to wait. Moving swiftly and efficiently, Blake unzipped my skirt, easing it over my hips and down my legs. When he bent to remove it, he slipped my shoes off as well, forcing me to stand on tiptoe. He then retrieved a large pair of scissors from the dresser and cut away my blouse. I shivered as the cold steel blades slithered over my torso, snipping the silky fabric and letting it fall away from me like petals from a dying flower. A few more snicks and my bra and panties fluttered to the floor in pieces, leaving me totally nude. But they were not yet done. 

Andrew emerged from the bathroom with a bowl of soapy water in one hand, a razor in the other. He knelt before me and lathered my neatly trimmed pubic hair, then set to work with the razor. I froze, wide-eyed, scarcely daring to breathe, as he tugged at my intimate parts, exposing every fold and crevasse. The blade glided smoothly over my soapy flesh, leaving me cold and bare where it passed. I flinched at every touch, feeling more exquisitely vulnerable than ever before. That sharp blade, so close to my most sensitive spots, was humiliating… and arousing… and utterly terrifying. 

"What's the matter?" Blake smirked at my discomfiture. "You're not afraid that he'll cut you, are you? Don't worry. We don't want to hurt you. Not yet, anyway." 

Finally, Andrew finished. He rinsed away the soap, then patted me dry with a soft towel. "Now… We wouldn't want any unsightly razor burn…" he smiled, producing a bottle of antiseptic. I squirmed, frantic, as he slathered the fiery liquid over my newly-shaven mound. 

"Oh, God… No… Please, stop. Make it stop!" I pleaded, to the amusement of my tormentors. Dangling from my wrists, I thrashed like a hooked fish, tears streaming from my eyes, until the burning subsided to a more bearable warmth. 

"Ok, that's enough," Blake said, checking his watch. "They'll be here soon. Let's get her dressed." 

Dressed? I sighed with relief, grateful that my captors did not intend to parade me nude in front of their guests, though the costume they produced wasn't much better. Handling me like a doll, they laced me into a black satin corset, so tight that I could scarcely breathe. Because my arms were stretched overhead, the top of the corset fit just below my nipples, pushing my generous breasts up and displaying rather than concealing them. A flared skirt followed, also black, and so short that it barely covered me when I stood upright. If I bent over even a little bit, I would be shamefully exposed. Next, they buckled my feet into a pair of high-heeled shoes - far higher than any that I owned. Finally, they raised the skirt and buckled a slim leather belt around my hips. 

"Now," said Blake, "for the accessories." He held up a small, egg-shaped device from which dangled a short bit of wire. "For you, dear girl – I do hope you'll enjoy it." With that, he thrust the object deep into my pussy. I gasped at the abrupt intrusion, though in truth, I was already fairly wet down there, so it didn't hurt. It just felt… cold, and a little strange. He then produced a second object – a slender plug with a flared base. My eyes widened in horror at the realization of where he intended to put it – and sure enough, a moment later, I felt him probing my virgin ass. I clenched my buttocks tightly and attempted to swivel away from him, but he only laughed. 

"Needs a little lubrication…" he said to himself, retrieving a tiny bottle from his pocket and squeezing a few drops into the crack of my ass. The liquid was cold and slippery. He swirled the tip of the plug in the lubricant for a moment, then began inserting it. Despite its deceptively slender appearance, it hurt as he relentlessly pressed it deeper, stretching me, and I whimpered with mingled shame and pain. 

"One more," Blake smiled, showing me a tiny black box attached to a leather strap. He clipped the strap onto the front of the belt, then passed it between my legs, cinching it tightly in back, so that the box was seated snugly against my clitoris. The strap also covered my pussy and pressed against the flared base of the plug, ensuring that none of the objects could be removed. "Almost done…" He pulled two small padlocks from his pockets and used them to secure the strap, both in front and back, then stepped back to survey his work. 

"Nice," Andrew said approvingly, sliding his hands over my ass and tugging at the strap to verify that it was secure. The vibrators shifted slightly with each tug and my cheeks blazed with fury. Still, the presence of that locked strap reassured me slightly. At least it offered a hint of concealment for my most private parts, plus it suggested that I would not be violated further. Gritting my teeth, I resolved to endure whatever further humiliation they had planned for me – at least until the opportunity to escape presented itself. 

"Right, then," Blake began in a brisk, business-like tone. "Andrew and I will be hosting a small gathering this evening, and, well… you are the entertainment. It will be your job to serve drinks and hors d'oeuvres to our guests. You are also to comply with any requests they might make of you. Anything," he repeated, grasping my chin and looking me directly in the eye. "Please them, and you will be rewarded. Anything less than total obedience will be severely punished. And don't even think of trying to escape. I can assure you that no one here tonight will help you, but any attempt will be punished. Understand?" I nodded reluctantly. With a final stern look, he stooped to remove the cuffs around my ankles while Andrew freed my hands. My hopes of being left unbound, however, were swiftly dashed when Andrew replaced his belt with a pair of slim steel cuffs, one on each wrist. Short chains locked each cuff to rings on the sides of the corset, trapping my hands at waist-level. The chains were just long enough to permit a few inches of movement on either side. 




Open House: By Appointment Only



"Good choice," Blake nodded approvingly, just as I heard the distant chime of a doorbell. "Splendid!" he said. "They've arrived. Let's go down, shall we?" Without waiting for an answer, he took my elbow and guided me down the stairs to the entryway – a slow and difficult journey for me, teetering in impossibly high stilettos. The stiff plug in my ass shifted with every step, and while I found the sensation uncomfortable, it was also slightly arousing. Andrew reached the door first, opening it to admit a group of men. He and Blake greeted each in turn, acting as if everything were perfectly normal. Their guests, too, took my unusual appearance in stride. Although they cast more than a few appraising glances my way, none of them seemed shocked by my scanty outfit – or by the chains confining my hands to my sides. If anything, they appeared pleased. 

"Kate," Blake commanded. "Go into the kitchen and get some drinks for our guests." With a sigh of resignation, I did as he asked. The cupboards containing the glassware were well out of reach, as was the wine rack, but after a bit of a struggle, I managed to wrestle the refrigerator door open and retrieve a six-pack of beer. By the time I returned to the entryway, the men had moved on to another room. Seeing my chance, I dropped the beer and scrambled for the door. The knob turned easily in my hand, but the door itself would not budge. Frantic, I tugged at the stubborn door, willing it to yield. Only then did I notice the deadbolt mounted high on the doorframe – well out of reach of my imprisoned hands, though I scrabbled vainly for it. 

"Well, now. Isn't this a surprise," Blake drawled behind me. My heart leapt into my throat as I whirled to face him. "And after you promised to be good, too. I guess we'll just have to show you what happens when you disobey." With that, he withdrew three small, flat objects from his pocket. One contained a single button, the others a dial and a thumb switch. "Now let me see… Which of these should I use?" he mused, toying with them. Suddenly, he turned the dial – and my knees nearly gave out from the intense buzzing that filled my pussy. 

"Oh, my God!" I squealed, leaning against the closed door for support. Several of the men, hearing my outburst, wandered back into the foyer. They fanned out behind Blake, curiosity and interest evident in their eyes. 

"Whoops! Wrong remote." Blake laughed. "That one's to reward you for being good!" With an evil grin, he turned off the dial, then depressed the button on another remote. All at once, pain like I had never felt before exploded between my legs. My already-weak knees buckled, spilling me onto the tile, and I screamed in anguish. The pain stopped as abruptly as it began, leaving me gasping and shuddering on the floor. 

"Good Lord!" One of the newcomers exclaimed, looking slightly disturbed. "What did you do to her?" 

Looking highly pleased with himself, Blake handed the gentleman the remote control and flipped up my skirt, exposing the straps underneath. "I've modified the receiver from a dog-training collar," he explained. "A simple push of the button and she receives a jolt of… correction… in a very sensitive spot." 

"Brilliant!" the man replied. "Swift, effective – and no marks left behind. You'll have to make one of these for me!" 

"Of course," Blake promised. "I'd be delighted. Now, shall we proceed?" Smiling, he ushered his guests back into the billiards room, leaving Andrew with me. 

"Well, that was pretty stupid, wasn't it?" Andrew asked, gripping my elbow and pulling me roughly to my feet. "We've already told you that you can't escape. The only way you're getting out of here is by doing exactly as you're told. Continued defiance will only bring additional punishment. Now come on." With that, he jerked my arm and half-dragged me, stumbling, after the others. 

The next few hours passed in a sort of blur. Andrew and Blake took turns manning the bar while their guests chatted, played pool, and watched a basketball game on the big-screen TV. Although I was kept busy trotting around the room, delivering food and drinks on a large tray precariously gripped in my chained hands, I overheard snatches of conversation that revealed much about Blake's success in an otherwise slow real estate market. 

"…so they're six months behind on their payments, and foreclosure is imminent…" 

"…just lost his job… no way he can continue making the payments on that place!"

"…pick it up for the balance owed… "

"I can get you 4.5% on that, over 30 years…" 

"If you can score that 3-bedroom on Grove, I have a potential buyer…" 

"…I've got some sweet condominiums I could show you. You can easily rent them out for less than the monthly payments Carl can set up for you…" 

As I made my rounds, the conspiracy began to take shape. Bob and Carl, as employees of major mortgage lenders, were able to give Blake a heads-up whenever a promising property was about to go into foreclosure. He could then swoop in and offer to purchase the property for the balance owed on the note, preserving the credit rating of the former owner but walking away with whatever equity they had in the property. Andrew and his friends were investors. They would purchase the properties cheaply (with low interest rates and monthly payments courtesy of Bob and Carl) and either flip them or hold them until the market recovered. While I was repulsed by their callous opportunism, a small part of me also admired their ruthless ingenuity. 

Every so often, one of the men would pinch my exposed nipples or slide his hand under my skirt, stroking my ass or slipping a fingertip into the strap between my thighs. At first, I jerked away from the intrusive groping – but after a few "corrections" I learned to bear them stoically. The most humiliating part was the casualness with which the men touched me – not with lust or passion, but as if I were merely a toy for their amusement. A toy to idly fidget with while watching the game. The only rest I was permitted was when one of the men would order me to sit on his lap for a few minutes. My aching feet welcomed these brief respites, even though each was invariably accompanied by unwelcome caresses. A few of the men lifted their glasses to my lips and ordered me to sample their drinks – then laughed when I coughed and sputtered, unaccustomed to strong whiskey or scotch. It wasn't long before my ears began to buzz and I felt the warm lassitude of inebriation spreading through my limbs. Every so often, one of the vibrators would rumble to life, making me gasp and moan – to the great amusement of whoever was standing closest to me. Several of the guests began to shout out guesses as to which vibrator had been turned on, while others clamored for both to be used at once. 

Although I hated being so publicly used – and against my will – the powerful vibrations were doing their job. Even the spaces between – filled with a mixture of dread and anticipation – heightened my arousal. There was no pattern that I could discern, no regular interval between bouts of stimulation, nor even a system of alternation between pussy and ass. At some point I realized that Blake had handed the controls to his guests, and that they were passing them back and forth, taking turns with me. By the time the ballgame ended amidst shouted cheers and curses, I was trembling, weak-kneed, and very, very wet. My entire body burned with need – but the damnable vibrators provided just enough stimulation to keep me at a fever pitch, without offering release. 

I was, therefore, only dimly aware that several of the men had placed wagers on the outcome of the game. Money changed hands between a few of the guests, then one of them turned to Blake. 

"Ok, your turn now. Pay up," he said, holding out his hand. 

"She's all yours, Jim." Blake replied, pushing me toward the victor and handing him the single-button remote control. 

"Wait… No!" I protested weakly, stumbling against the man, but both acted as if they hadn't heard me. 

"On your knees, girl." Jim ordered. When I didn't obey quickly enough, he mashed the button on the remote, sending that searing pain arcing through me again. Gasping, I collapsed to the floor at his feet. "That's better!" he said. "Now, make yourself useful…" Before I could ask what it was he wanted me to do, he unzipped his trousers and brought out his stiff cock. My eyes darted nervously around the room – surely he couldn't expect me to blow him in front of everyone? But it appeared that was exactly what he wanted. 

"Go on… Get started!" he barked, shoving his dick into my face. I grimaced at the sticky trail of fluid it left across my lips and cheek, yet knew I had little choice. I could try to resist him for a while, but sooner or later he would force me to submit. At least cooperating would spare me further torment. So, reluctantly, I struggled to my knees and accepted him into my mouth. I tried to control him with my lips and tongue, preventing him from penetrating too deeply, but he refused to accept half-measures. Instead, he clenched his fists in my hair and pulled me toward him, filling my mouth and throat. Gagging, I strained backward, frantic to escape – but his grip was firm. Though tears streamed from my eyes and I struggled for breath, he thrust mercilessly, repeatedly into me. After what seemed an eternity, he pulled me close and held me there, nose squashed against his groin, his penis pulsing in the back of my throat. 

"Swallow, bitch." His grip tightened on my hair. I wanted to obey, if only to avoid further punishment, but could not choke the bitter fluid down. Instead, it dribbled from the corners of my mouth, spilling over his thighs and my exposed breasts. Angry, he pressed the button on the remote again, making me scream around his cock – though only a muffled whimper escaped the fleshy gag. As the pain died away, it was replaced by another sensation: rippling waves of pleasure from the two vibrators, both of which started purring away inside me. My hips rocked involuntarily, seeking to intensify the contact – though it was still, maddeningly, not quite enough to make me cum. 

"Hey. Let someone else have a turn," a voice said. Through watering eyes, I saw that the rest of the men had gathered in a semi-circle around us. A few had already freed their own cocks from their pants and were stroking them lightly. Several had removed their shirts as well. The shrinking penis was removed from my lips and replaced with the hard mouth of a bottle. 

"Here. Have another drink," someone suggested, grasping my chin and tilting the bottle. I choked and sputtered as the fiery liquor overflowed my mouth and trickled down the sides of my face. It felt like I was drowning. I swallowed convulsively, the alcohol burning its way to my stomach. Once. Twice. Three times I forced myself to swallow, though my body struggled to reject it. Finally, the bottle was withdrawn and I was able to catch my breath. At least the taste of semen had been washed away.  

"I don't think we need these anymore," Blake said, unlocking the cuffs around my wrists. Still on my knees, I raised my freed hands and stared at them blearily, trying to comprehend what they meant. The angry red welts that encircled my wrists fascinated me: souvenirs of the cuffs. They didn't hurt, exactly – but they looked as if they should. A tiny part of my brain screamed at me to run, to fight. With the use of my hands restored, I would be able to open the door. Perhaps to escape. But I had learned the folly in that – surely, I reasoned, they would not have released me if there was really a chance that I might get away. Besides, I was no longer certain that my legs would bear my weight. The heavy fog of intoxication was taking me. Everything – the men, the house, even the persistent throbbing of the vibrators – seemed unreal, almost as if it were happening to someone else and I was merely an observer. I was, therefore, only distantly aware of hands fumbling beneath my skirt, the snick of padlocks opening, or a slackening of the strap between my thighs. It was not until someone's fingers dug into my pussy to retrieve the vibrator that I realized what was happening. By then, it was gone – as was the plug in my ass – leaving me with a vague sense of loss, but also relieved that no further punishment would be inflicted on my throbbing clit. Strong hands gripped my arms and half-carried me to a leather sofa, draping me over the back of it. Only then, feeling the breeze from an open window on my exposed private parts, did I realize what else the removal of those straps signified. I was open for use. 

And use me they did. Someone (I couldn't see who) stepped up behind me and fumbled between my legs, positioning himself before thrusting deeply into me. "Ooof!" I grunted, the breath driven from my lungs, as he pounded me over and over into the padded back of the sofa. He wrapped his arms around me, squeezing my breasts and rolling the stiff nipples between his fingers. And though I hated myself for it, I found my body responding to his thrusts, rising to meet them, the delightful friction igniting a fire within my belly. I tried to fight the rising passion, but moans of pleasure betrayed me, to the great amusement of my captors. 

"Hey… I think she's going to cum!" someone announced, making me burn with shame. 

"No, she's not quite ready yet." 

"Ten bucks says I can make that bitch cum." 

"You're on. Anyone else think he's got what it takes?" 

"Fuck yeah. Twenty bucks says I can do it!" 

"Ok, but let's make it fair. Bob, you've had your turn. Give someone else a shot, ok?" 

"Goddammit… Alright…" grumbled the man behind me – Bob – as he pulled out, leaving me gasping like a stranded fish. 

"So… Let's say five minutes? That's about how long Bob had." Blake suggested. "Everyone gets to have a go at her for five minutes, with a five minute break between to let her cool down a bit. First guy to make her cum takes the pot. We'll draw numbers to see who goes first." I heard murmurs of assent, and a stack of cash was piled on the coffee table in front of me. Somehow, the sight of the money made it even worse – I felt like a whore. 

"What if nobody wins?" Bob inquired. 

"Then I guess she gets to keep the money!" Blake laughed, swatting my upturned ass. I winced from the unexpected blow, though it didn't really hurt very much – just a sharp sting, followed by a not-unpleasant sensation of warmth. "So… First one up is… Carl!" 

"Alright, Carl! Go get her, dude!" someone cheered as a skinny man mounted me from behind. He wasn't nearly as large as Bob, so he slipped in easily. Too easily, really – between the alcohol and the earlier assaults on my pussy, I felt slightly numbed. The rapid strokes of Carl's small cock went almost unnoticed, though from the way he grunted and groaned behind me, it was clear that he was enjoying himself. I was suddenly struck by the mental image of a small dog humping someone's leg – a chihuahua with Carl's face – and snorted with undignified laughter. 

"Bitch! You think that's funny?" Carl snarled, jerking my head back by the hair. 

"No… I'm sorry…" I gasped. "I'm just so… fucking drunk…" Indeed, the room seemed to be spinning, and I caught sporadic flashes of light from the corners of my watering eyes. 

"Four minutes," Blake warned. 

Carl pounded into me with renewed savagery – but his mood had been broken and I felt his cock shrinking inside me. Finally, Blake called time and he withdrew, hastily zipping his pants. 

"Next!" Blake announced after the requisite five-minute break. 

Funny, I thought, how five minutes could be so excruciatingly long – or over so quickly. This realization was hammered home, again and again, as each man attempted to win the wager. The breaks in between seemed so short that the men ran together - one long blur of pounding cocks and pinched nipples, sweaty hands squeezing my ass and breasts, fingering my clit, lips and teeth on the back of my neck. I moaned and trembled beneath them, floating on an alcohol-soaked haze but pinned solidly to the earth by each cock that pierced me. I clung desperately to the last shreds of my dignity, vowing that I would not give them the satisfaction of making me cum. And I almost succeeded. Almost. 

Andrew was the last to take me. By then, my body burned at a fever pitch. The intervening breaks proved insufficient to cool my ardor, so when I felt his penis exploring the entrance to my pussy, I found myself arching to meet him. To engulf him. Though I willed my body to be still, I could not prevent my hips from rocking against the leather. For a long moment, he hesitated, poised on the verge of penetration. Then, when I could bear the anticipation no longer, he impaled me with one swift thrust. Despite the earlier assaults, my eyes widened and I opened my mouth in a silent scream when he slammed into me, stretching me almost to the point of pain. Again and again, that monster cock filled me, until my very heartbeat seemed to pulse to his slow rhythm. Frantic mewling sounds escaped me, though I scarcely recognized the voice as my own. With an inarticulate cry, I collapsed into the arms that gripped me tightly from behind, my pussy pulsing and throbbing around him. 

"And… time!" called Blake. "Way to go, dude." 

Smirking, Andrew pulled his still-hard prick out of my dripping cunt and strutted around to collect his winnings. Then, he turned toward me and shoved his cock into my face, smearing my own lubrication over my lips and cheeks. 

"Go on," he urged. "Finish me off." Too weak to resist, I opened my mouth and slowly licked the shaft of his penis. Impatient, he grabbed my hair and pulled me toward him, pushing past my lips and into my mouth, filling me completely. Strangled moans emerged, but I could not draw sufficient breath to speak or scream. Moving slowly, lazily, he began to fuck my mouth and throat, nearly strangling me with each stroke. I felt someone enter me from behind, but could not see who it was – all I saw were the taut muscles of Andrew's stomach, glistening under a sheen of perspiration. I was struggling now for air, snatching breaths greedily between thrusts, fighting the rising darkness that threatened to overtake me. With great effort, I raised my eyes to meet his, silently pleading for mercy – but the cold contempt mirrored there showed me how futile such pleas were. All I could do was endure the endless assault, until at last he buried himself in me, pressing his groin against my face. My lungs burned as I struggled for breath, but he was unrelenting. I could do nothing but swallow convulsively, fearing that I would drown in the hot gouts of semen that filled my throat. Through the fog that swept over me, I was dimly aware of the man behind me spattering my ass and thighs with cum. When he had finished, I felt a rough towel wipe away the goo before another took his place. And then, mercifully, I fainted. 

I don't know how long I was unconscious. A minute? An hour? It felt like I was swimming up from a great depth – as if I had been out for a very long time – yet nothing had changed. A cock was pistoning in and out of my aching pussy, while another filled my mouth. Not Andrew's, I noted dully. The belly that flexed before my eyes was paler than his. Hairier. The man in front of me climaxed with loud grunting sounds, and I watched with dull fascination as ropy strands of semen dribbled from my slack-jawed mouth and pooled on the leather. The entire scenario seemed so unreal – it was hard to imagine that any of this could be happening to me. Surely it must all be a bad dream? Yet I could not seem to awaken from it. 




Open House: By Appointment Only



Finally, the men were done with me – or bored. Either way, they drifted off, forming little pockets of conversation. Another pool game started up, while someone else clicked the television back on and began channel surfing. I was left like a piece of flotsam, washed up on the couch and forgotten. The room tilted crazily, making me thankful for the sweaty leather pressed to my cheek – it became my anchor, the one point of stillness around which the universe revolved. Even the undignified position in which I had been left – skirt hiked up, upturned ass and pussy shamefully displayed – seemed unimportant. I was simply too exhausted to attempt to rectify the situation and eventually I fell asleep. 

I awoke to the scent of orange blossoms wafting in through the open front door. The party was breaking up and Blake and Andrew were bidding their guests goodbye. I had been left unattended, presenting what was probably my best chance for escape. Painfully, I dragged myself off the couch and staggered toward the patio door. If I could slip outside, I could hide among the citrus trees until after the men had gone. The moonless night would be my ally, concealing me in its welcoming shadows. Just a few more steps… 

"And where do you think you're going, young lady?" a mocking voice asked. "You weren't planning on sneaking out without saying goodbye, were you?" 

Defeated, I turned to face Blake. "Please…" I whimpered. "I just want to go home." 

"Home? I don't think so. You're in no condition to drive." As if to prove this assertion, he planted his hand in the center of my chest and gave a little shove. I reeled backward, catching my high heels in the carpet, and collapsed to the floor. 

"You see? You're much better off spending the night here," he said, scooping me up and carrying me upstairs. "You just need a nice hot bath and a good night's sleep." With that, he dropped me on the bed in one of the smaller rooms, then stepped into the adjoining bath. A moment later, I heard water rushing into the tub. He returned to the room and carefully undressed me, folding the soiled garments neatly on top of the dresser. When I was totally nude, he picked me up again and carried me into the bathroom as easily as if I was a child, depositing me gently into an antique clawfoot tub. Hot, soapy water – so hot that I could scarcely sit still – swirled around my breasts and thighs, washing away the accumulated filth. Although it burned, I wanted the water to be hotter still – hot enough to sear the past evening from both my body and my mind. Sighing, I closed my eyes and lay back in the tub, letting the scalding water lap over my chin. I didn't even try to move as Blake shampooed my hair and scrubbed me all over with a soapy washcloth. When he had finished, he drained the water and lifted me from the tub, wrapping a thick, soft towel around me. Still handling me as if I was a child or perhaps a doll, he combed my hair and briskly dried my flushed skin. 

"Now… I'll give you a few minutes to… take care of business…" he said, depositing me on the commode and stepping back. Appalled, I glared up at him. Surely, he didn't mean to watch even this? But he showed no sign of leaving and I could not deny the needs of my body. Though I cringed with shame, I was forced to relieve myself under his watchful eye. When I had finished, he again lifted me and carried me into the bedroom. The towel was whisked away, leaving me nude and shivering in the breeze that came from the open window. 

"Now, let's get you tucked in. Wouldn't want you wandering off in the night, would we?" Blake chuckled, pulling a length of heavy chain from one of the bureau drawers. He wrapped one end around my neck, snug enough that I could not escape, but not so tightly as to restrict breathing. The sharp snick of a padlock secured the chain in place. "That should be long enough to reach the bathroom, if you need to go again during the night," he said, locking the other end around the heavy iron bedframe. "Sweet dreams." 

With that, he turned and left the room, taking my towel and soiled costume with him. The loud grating of a key in the lock let me know that he had locked the door from the outside. Frantic, I scrambled about the room, searching for anything that could help me – but met with no success. The bureau drawers were empty, as was the closet. The locked door would not budge, nor would the padlocks keeping me leashed to the bed. In the bathroom, a drawer by the sink yielded a toothbrush and toothpaste – which I used gratefully – but nothing to help me out of my predicament. Despairing, I collapsed onto the bed, pulling the sheet over me to protect me from the night's chill. I sobbed bitterly into the pillow until sleep overtook me and I drifted into dark and troubled dreams. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I awoke, feeling slightly groggy, to the familiar drone of a lawnmower. My head was pounding. From the position of the sun, it appeared to be mid-morning. For a moment, I lay still and silent in my bed, desperately willing the previous night to have been a dream – but no. A brief touch confirmed the chain still padlocked securely around my throat. I closed my eyes in defeat. If only I had a phone, an Internet connection, or anything that would allow me to call for help. I could scream, but no one would hear me. No one, except… 

Wrapping a sheet around my nude body, I ran to the open window – and there it was. A pickup truck with the logo of a landscaping company painted on its side. It was hitched to a flatbed trailer loaded with garden equipment and large plastic waste bins. I laughed aloud. How foolish of my captors to forget about the landscapers! If I could just get their attention, they would certainly set me free – or at least call for help. I waited breathlessly as the mower grew louder and louder, bringing my freedom closer with every step. At last, my deliverer stepped around the side of the house and into view: a short, stout Mexican man wearing a broad-brimmed hat, his long-sleeved blue work shirt flapping in the breeze. 

"Excuse me!" I shouted. "Please, can you help me?" But of course, he couldn't hear me over the mower. Frustrated, I waited, watching him cut smooth swaths across the lawn. Finally, he had to stop to empty the grass catcher. Again I shouted from the window. "Hello! Can you hear me? Please, help me!" 

He looked up toward my window, shading his eyes with his hand. "¿Que?" he called back. 

Damn. Racking my brain, I tried to dredge up the few Spanish words I'd learned in school. Why couldn't they have taught something a little more useful than "¿Dónde está la biblioteca?" Who cares where the damn library is? I needed to know how to say, "Help! Some crazy bastard kidnapped me and chained me to a bed!" 

"Ay…ayudar… Ayúdame!" I shouted, fumbling for the correct word. "Ayúdame, por favor! Help me, please!" For a moment, he just stood there, staring up at me – but then he turned and ran toward the front door. Finally! I turned to face the bedroom door, awaiting rescue. Footsteps pounded up the stairs, the lock rattled, the door burst open – and there he was, slightly out of breath, dripping with sweat. "Please… Por Favor… Ayúdame," I pleaded, gesturing at the chain around my throat. "Ayúdame…" 

He grinned and a leaden chill settled over me. I suddenly realized that I was totally naked underneath the sheet – a fact of which he seemed all too aware from the way he raked his eyes over my body. I realized then that he was not alone – two younger men stood behind him in the doorway. He said something to them – a stream of rapid-fire Spanish that I could not begin to understand – and they chuckled appreciatively. Frightened now, I began to back away from them – but there was nowhere for me to go. At a word from their leader, the two younger men seized my arms and dragged me backward to the bed, throwing me onto it and holding me there. I kicked and struggled futilely, but was hopelessly outmatched. Still smiling, the older man pulled several pieces of heavy, scratchy twine from his pockets, with which he tied first my ankles and then my wrists to the bedframe. He spoke again, another incomprehensible torrent of Spanish – but this time, I caught a few words that I recognized - "puta" and "chingar" – which filled me with dread, though the others appeared pleased with what they heard. 

"No… Please, don't…" I begged, but he tore the sheet away. A breeze from the open window rifled the curtains and danced around the room, tickling my exposed sex. It carried with it the strong aroma of the men: perspiration, fresh-cut grass, and gasoline. Masculine smells - potent, but not unpleasant. For the first time, he addressed me in heavily accented English. 

"I want to taste your coño," he rasped, lowering his face to my exposed crotch. Mortified, I fought to close my legs – but could do little more than wriggle, scratching my thighs painfully with the stubble on his unshaven cheeks. "Sí, chica," he sneered, lapping at my cunt, "Show me how much you like it." And to my great shame, I realized that I did like it. His persistent licking, nibbling and suckling was having the desired effect, and I soon found myself arching to meet his touch rather than evade it. 

"Oh… Oh, God…" I moaned breathlessly as he thrust his tongue deep into my pussy. Despite my humiliation, I writhed beneath him, grinding into his face. He was fucking me with his tongue now, hard and fast. My body tensed with impending orgasm – and then he stopped. 

"Not so fast, puta," he laughed, turning to his companions. "Míralo. Le gusta." Look. She likes it. "Esta muy mojada." She's very wet. It gradually dawned on me that the others did not speak English. Although he was talking to them, he was staring directly at me, speaking slowly and deliberately, using simple words. I realized that he wanted me to understand him, to know what he was saying to the other men, which made my shame burn hotter. "Puede a ver tú mismo." You can see for yourself. At his invitation, they approached the bed tentatively. "¡Sigue! ¡Esta perra blanca le gusta!" he encouraged them. Go on! This white bitch likes it! 

One of the men grasped my breasts, squeezing them, while the other trailed a fingertip across my wet pussy. "Sí, le gusta," they agreed, running callused hands greedily over my body now. I closed my eyes, blocking out their leering faces, but could not ignore the increasingly invasive explorations. A warm mouth engulfed one of my nipples, causing the flesh to pucker and stiffen in response. Fingers plucked at the other nipple, teasing it erect as well. Someone stroked my clit – a delicate, flickering touch that made me squirm. They grew bolder, and a fingertip insinuated itself gently between my legs. A second finger joined it, then a third and fourth, stretching me painfully as they probed my most intimate depths.

"No…" I sobbed, willing my body to be still, to deny them the satisfaction of seeing my arousal – to no avail. Though my body flushed with shame, I writhed beneath their touches like a cat in heat.

"Ella esta listo," the first man said at last. She's ready. His words frightened me. Ready? For what? Then I felt the bed shift under his weight, felt him straddling my body, and I knew. My eyes flew open when he mashed his mouth to mine, crushing my lips, bruising them against my teeth. His breath, redolent of onions, peppers, and the scent of my own arousal filled my lungs. He thrust his tongue lewdly into my mouth, and I tasted myself on him. When he seized my breasts, kneading them between his powerful fingers so roughly that I was certain he would leave bruises, I screamed into his mouth. The agony seemed unbearable – but there was no escape. 

"¡Cállate!" He barked. Shut up! He slapped me, snapping my head back against the sheets. Blood trickled from my lip and down the side of my face. Despite the ringing in my ears, I forced myself to nod acquiescence. With a triumphant smile, he unbuttoned his grimy Levis, pulling them down sufficiently to free the fat cock that strained against its denim prison. His eyes locked with mine as he slowly lowered himself onto me, the buttons on his jeans digging into my inner thigh and the stiff fabric aggravating the abrasions left by his stubbled cheeks. His hot shaft rubbed against my belly, leaving a sticky trail of seminal fluid. 

I had nearly forgotten the other men, but a few words from him brought them rushing over. They did not speak, but grasped my ankles and swiftly untied them. Though I tried to kick free, they were able to control me easily, drawing my legs up until my knees pressed against my chest. My ankles were again secured to the bedframe - this time overhead - and the men retreated. I was peripherally aware of them still – standing near the foot of the bed, watching us and stroking themselves through their pants – but my attention remained focused on my captor. He fumbled, one-handed, between my legs, sliding the head of his penis back and forth to coat it with my own copious lubrication. For a moment, he paused – his cock nudging tantalizingly at the entrance to my cunt – while I battled my body's need to engulf him. From his smirk, I knew that he could see my own rising hunger – and that it amused him. Then he thrust into me, impaling me with a single stroke. Again and again he pounded into me, driving the breath from my body with the force of each blow. My ignominious position allowed him to penetrate me more deeply than I'd ever thought possible, and I was unable to stifle screams of both lust and pain. 

"¡Míralo!" he grunted. "¡Esta puta le gusta!" This slut likes it. I cringed at his words, but could not deny the waves of pleasure rising through my body. Closing my eyes, I succumbed at last to the powerful contractions that rippled through my cunt, grasping his cock and milking it until I felt him throbbing, pulsing, filling me with his seed. 

He lay atop me for a few minutes, then withdrew his now flaccid penis and sat up. I dared to hope that perhaps he was done with me, but was quickly cured of that notion when he climbed onto my chest, straddling my raised legs, and grasped my hair, forcing my head up. "Limpia mi pito," he ordered, pressing his cock against my mouth. I grimaced, overpowered by the musky odors of sweat, semen, and my own fluids. The sticky concoction smeared across my lips and cheeks. "¡Chupalo!" he snarled, yanking at my hair. Suck it. Too frightened to disobey, I reluctantly parted my lips, battling the urge to gag as he forced his soft organ into my mouth. It didn't stay that way for long, swelling while I obediently cleaned him with my tongue. "¿Quiere más?" he asked, pumping deeper into my mouth. Want more? I tried to shake my head – no – while tears streamed from my eyes, but he only laughed. "Tómelo, perra," he sneered. Take it, bitch. I had no choice but to endure the relentless assault on my throat, pinned beneath his weight, scarcely able to breathe. Black spots danced behind my eyelids and my ears buzzed as if they were filled with a swarm of bees. My jaws ached and I choked with every thrust - violent spasms that racked my raw throat. I began to fear that he would never finish – or that I would suffocate before he did – when finally, he wrapped both his fists in my hair, pulling me close to him and holding me there. The hair of his belly prickled my nose and cheeks; his cock filled my mouth and the back of my throat. I couldn't breathe, couldn't move, while his penis convulsed, spilling gouts of hot fluid that dribbled from my open mouth and trickled down my neck. At last he withdrew, wiping his cock on my hair while I gulped for air. 

"Tus turnos," he said, standing and buttoning himself back into his Levis. Your turn. The others exchanged eager glances, unbuttoning their pants as they approached the bed. One positioned himself above me, his knees straddling my head, while the other knelt between my legs. Almost simultaneously, they thrust into me – one filling my mouth, while the other slammed into my aching pussy. It felt as if I was being pummeled between them, but at last they fell into a steady rhythm, alternating strokes. My own passion was long spent, and I could do nothing now but endure their brutal assault, praying silently that they would finish quickly. In this, at least, I was fortunate – having masturbated while watching the first man have his way with me, they were ready to explode. After only a few minutes – though it felt like much longer – the one in my mouth climaxed with a strangled shout. I began to gag, fighting to suppress a rising surge of nausea. The convulsions that racked my body were enough to push his companion over the brink, and he pulled out, shooting hot cum over my belly, breasts, thighs and ass. Those gouts of sticky fluid spattering my body, the raw scent filling my nostrils, were more than I could bear. Helplessly, I turned my head to the side, a trickle of semen and vomit pooling on the sheet beneath me. 

"Puta." One of the men muttered, disgust evident on his face. Following the lead of their companion, both men cleaned themselves on my hair before redressing. 

"Vamos," the leader said. "Tenemos más trabajo que hacer." Let's go. We have more work to do. Laughing, the younger men left the room. I heard their footsteps on the stairs, and a few moments later, the sound of the mower starting up again. The remaining man smirked at me. "Díselo Señor Blake dije gracias," he said. Then, to be sure I understood him, he repeated it in heavily accented English: "Tell Señor Blake I said Thank you." He started out the door, then turned back, a cruel smile lighting his face. "Maybe I should leave him a note." Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a ballpoint pen and a small slip of paper – a business card for the landscaping company. He scribbled something on the card, then showed it to me – two words, "Muchas Gracias." With a contemptuous laugh, he rolled the card into a tube and stuffed it halfway into my dripping cunt, then left. 

With my wrists and ankles still secured to the bedposts, I could do nothing to alleviate the slow burn that crawled up my lower back, spreading to my neck and shoulders. Every muscle in my body quivered with fatigue and I could feel that humiliating note protruding from my upturned cunt. Worst of all, though, were the flies that took advantage of the open window. They buzzed around my face, lighting on my lips, my nose, my eyelids. These I could at least dislodge by tossing my head or blowing at them. Others, however, landed out of reach. I could feel their tiny feet tickling my belly, my thighs, my ass – exploring my ravaged body, sampling its sticky coating of sweat and semen – but could only scream in frustration. After a while, though, I was too exhausted for even that and could only lie there helplessly, waiting. 

Finally, after what seemed like hours, I heard footsteps on the stairs. With a combination of dread and hope, I turned my face toward the door. The step seemed too light to be the landscapers returning, and while I didn't dare hope for rescue, surely anything would be better than remaining as I was. A short bark of familiar laughter sounded as the footsteps approached, and a moment later the door opened, revealing Blake. "That fucking Carlos…" he chuckled, stepping into the room. "Christ… Hilarious, man." Still laughing, he removed something from the doorknob and held it for me to see, letting me in on the joke. It was a hotel door-sign, reading "No Molestar. Do Not Disturb." 




Open House Exposure



Open House Exposure © Literocat 2014

Fresh out of the shower, and three hours before we expected anyone to check out our Open House, I was sprawled naked on my towel on a sofa, trying to tempt my busy wife. She left laundry half folded when I switched on a sex tape of some of our public exploits. I love watching her strip in public and this was a mix of her stripping in tales I tell like I BURIED MY NAKED WIFE IN THE DESERT, DAWN JOGGERS, Wet Wrestling and so many others.

She couldn't ignore my dick climbing to full attention as I mauled it and recalled the explicit exploits on the tape. When I heard a low moan, I turned and saw her pulling her nipple under her tank top, her other hand in her panty, rubbing her little man. My dick surged as I looked forward to tasting that wet finger. The TV showed her sweet ass sticking out of the ground in Death Valley. As I'd zoomed in on her gorgeous, bare, swollen pussy I noticed the clock still flashing noon.

I turned back to the TV, cock in hand, when we heard the group of strangers approach us in the eerie silence of the desert. Their chatter hid the quiet mutters of the live prospects who walked into our Open House three hours early. Startled by a small sound, I turned and saw two people had broached the nearly closed door. A well-rounded, tall man with a short, thick beard stood next to a petite and very pretty young woman in tiny blue shorts and a blue, half-open hoody. Their eyes were wide open and fixed on the TV where my wife's moist, lusty pussy filled the big screen.

Others were squeezing into the foyer and surveyed the scene. I jumped up and stared silently for long seconds, my stiff cock bobbed and pointed at them until I ultimately grabbed the towel and clutched it to my groin in a crumpled bunch. Sue sprang to her feet as she pulled both hands from under her clothes; my eyes locked on the deep, bright, smiling azure eyes of the beauty who fluttered from my single exposed testicle to the TV to my eyes and back.

Though one hard nipple spoke louder, Sue spoke first and asked what they were doing there. Chubby Joe said they were there for the Open House and always arrived an hour before the set time. Sue gasped and pointed to the clock until we both understood why it STILL flashed noon! More people squeezed in behind beautiful, blonde Pan as word spread of the porno on my TV.

Joe stared speechlessly at Sue's heaving, covered chest and watched her other nipple stiffen until he was drawn back to the TV where the first stranger had his cock out and was approaching her plumped pussy. "Turn that off!" shouted Sue to regain some control. When I turned to grab the remote, my bare ass faced our complicit voyeurs. Beginning to feel naughty, I let my legs spread as I bent and surely let our 'guests' see my balls and cock from behind. I decided I wanted them to enjoy my exposure. With the TV turned off, just my more and more 'careless' exposure or Sue's embarrassed nipples were the only sordid targets.

Uncharacteristically, since Sue, not I, was known for her 'accidental' exposures, I said "I guess it's too late for THIS" and threw the towel down. Joe and Pan were pushed closer to us by the restless prospects and, just to be clear, I grabbed my straining cock and pulled the last bit of foreskin behind my crown. Now no one could deny they were staring!

Pan gulped; Sue gasped. "Come on in. Are you aware of the Naked Realtor program on cable? She caters to nudists and finding homes for them. They get dressed only between houses and strip naked as they tour the house and grounds. Let's try that here." I smiled broadly and pointed my dick at each prospect for consent. I couldn't wait to see beautiful Pan naked, even if I had to suffer Joe's hairy display.

"If you'd like a tour, remove all your clothes, fold and leave them near the door- everything but shoes." Sue stared at my private, pulsing, purple-headed flesh that was rarely exposed so publically. Though I nodded at Pan, Joe was quick and first to peel off his shirt, pants and boxers. She stepped away from the jiggly adipose depot and the six-inch pole that extended from his groin. "There will be no sexual intimacy without consent." Two men and two women behind Pan stripped and waited anxiously. Hips thrust slightly forward, I approached Sue. She knew what I planned.

"Would PAN be short for Pandora, by chance?" She nodded slowly. "Great! I always wanted to see and maybe climb into Pandora's Box!" I smiled a wicked smile. She dipped her head coyly, yet still didn't strip. When she looked up at me, I wiped the small, clear drop of sweetness, already escaping my stiffness, against Sue's thigh and peeled her shorts to the floor. She didn't protest, but kept her eyes fixed on Pan's. She left her hands at her sides as I pulled her pink, pedestrian, poly panty up snugly and checked that her plump vulva described a lusty camel toe. To emphasize her raphe, I ran a finger between her labia. She blinked and sighed as I slid across her stiff clit.

Pan's mouth was hanging open as I lifted Sue's top and paused against the bottom of the soft little mounds. "Up." I whispered and Sue raised her arms. I lifted her tank top to her chin as I forced it against her chest so her tiny tits would rebound. When the top hit the sofa and Sue was left in shoes and snug panty, I nodded to Pan to suggest she needed to remover her top. She paled, but slowly unzipped the rest of her hoody. A grey sport bra appeared to be struggling to hold back her hidden charms.

After folding and placing the hoody down next to the clothes from the two, now naked, women in the hall, Pan looked around and wiggled out of her snug shorts. When she turned to place them on her hoody, we were treated to her picture perfect, well-toned gluts in a tiny thong. Her own bald camel toe spilled over the tiny triangle that pretended to be a panty. The royal blue bit of panty had just a narrow strip of dry fabric at the top. She looked back at the naked women, Sue's crotch and my oscillating penis before hooking her thumbs in her pretense of a panty and silently shimmied it off.

"There you have it. THIS is what Pandora's bald Box looks like. Your wife's is much more beautiful, as proven on that tape. Can we take that tour now?" Was her defiance to cover her embarrassment, or lack of it?

"Sorry, no. You aren't naked yet. And I need to closely and extensively examine the evidence before I can comment on the status of your pussies. Do you need help pulling that tight bra off?"

"Oops. I...I was so focused on whether to show my pussy," she gasped, "I forgot . . . I can do it myself . . . THIS time." How sly! She slowly folded up the bottom edge and teased us by exposing nearly half her crushed boobs and the edges of her aureole. Once she knew she had our attention, the tease pulled the elastic bra to her chin and whipped it over her head. Her surprisingly large tits cascaded and collided in beautiful chaos. Thick, tall nipples capped her firm yet gelatinous and lusty tits. "Now I want your wife naked too!"

"Gladly. Sue . . .?" I slid a finger firmly up her slit, again pushing her now wet panty deeper. The six behind Pan craned their necks to see what was and what soon would be exposed between my sweet wife's legs. Once again, I stroked her sensitive clit and heard Pan groan. I teased it until her legs twitched then slowly pulled her panty down. As expected, it was wedged in her vulva. Sue blushed as I pointed out the snag and wiggled it out and down. Finally, everyone inside was naked. Two more couples outside were also naked and ready for the grand tour.

I asked Pan and Joe to lead us into each room, ensuring that my cock rubbed her leg then her cute ass as she passed, and every chance I got. Sue was vibrant with being naked among so many strangers and put some extra sway in her sexy hips. Pan seemed to naturally wiggle obscenely and drew my wand to her fleshy North Pole. When we got to the family room, everyone but Pan went in.

She leaned into the room, leaving her gorgeous gluts for me to palpate. I leaned my hand on her warm ass and she didn't react. As Sue pointed out elements of the room, I gently slapped Pan's right cheek with my still stiff cock. When she failed to react, I pressed my anxious shaft firmly against her, she reached back and squeezed my cock before shifting it between her cheeks. An invitation!

Sue took the tour group thru the sliding doors and into the back yard. Pan again stopped in the doorway and leaned much farther which exposed her swollen lips to my view and my cock. Taking her twerk as consent, I shifted and thrust my helm into her warm, snug pussy. She grunted and I pushed deeper. Her athletic pelvic muscles captured and squeezed my ecstatic cock and I groaned. Once I was as deep as possible, I spread her luscious cheeks and plunged deeper.

As Sue lead the group to the kitchen entrance, Pan and I stayed in the other room. I began to pump deeply, firmly and slowly into my beauty. I pushed her shoulders lower and rubbed her pale brown hole with my thumbs. "Even if not original, I must say I LOVE opening Pandora's warm, sexy box and exploring inside it. Stick around after the showing and Sue and I will explore it more and adore it with our tongues. Can you send your husband away so we can play?" I sped up my explorations inside her box.

"What husband? You mean Joe? I just met him here and he's not my type. I'd love to stick around and I want to see more of your private sex tape. I ta...a...ake it Sue is willing to be my box lunch?" I grunted and as soon as my balls contracted, Pan stepped away and my cock jumped out with a loud POP. She spun around, sending her hair and tits flying as she dropped to her knees. In one gulp, she swallowed my whole sloppy, nectar-covered cock into her throat until her nose met my pubes.

My knees wobbled due to the warm snugness and she had my seed flowing down her throat in two minutes! "Ohhh, ohhh, sweet. You smell intoxicating and I can't wait to taste you. YOU will be our box lunch and you can both share my sausage offering - no hot sauce! We better rejoin the group, in a, innn a minute." Despite my fresh semen on her tongue, I couldn't wait to kiss her passionately and finger her tight twat as I did. I lost track of time and we were discovered by my naked wife.

"Ohhh, do we have a new play thing?" Sue asked as she pinched Pan's nipple and scrutinized her flawless body. "We have one more group to tour. Pan, would you join us and stay naked to encourage the others to strip?"

"Happy to help." She took my hand and softened cock and lead me past Sue back into the main room. Some left when they saw three naked people casually strolling around. I had to rashambo for the lead and I won so Sue had to lead the tour as Pan and I trailed behind. We took greater risks to nearly get caught.

As soon as people entered the family room, Pan bent over and rested a hand on the floor. With her perfect ass offered to me, I slid fingers first along then into her vulva. With the group within five feet, I knelt behind her and licked her tasty, dewy snatch then rimmed her musky rear hole. She giggled nervously at the risk.

When the group was in the yard, I pressed Pan onto our coffee table that was in easy view of the group if anyone just turned to look back. I spread her legs over each side of the table, sucked each soft tit briefly before diving into Pandora's Box lunch. Her clit stood at attention and demanded my touch and my tongue. Her sweet and tangy nectar filled my mouth as I worshiped at her fleshy, lusty altar.

We finally closed House and Pan got to enjoy Sue carnally. I started our personal porn tape and within minutes it was ignored while we made a new version to enjoy. The nanny cams recorded both women sucking me off, my cumming on their tits, their licking each other clean. With two cams going, I was sure to get the best angles when they went down on each other. I angled whoever was on top at the moment toward a camera and rimmed her before pushing my cock into the swollen, wet pussy as it was licked from below.

By careful control, I was able to fill each glorious pussy with my sticky sauce, but then my sore cock went into a coma. But my mouth and fingers kept helping the insatiable women to cum several more times. I relished both my chew toys with gusto, and a little chocolate ganache.

Pan became a good friend who spent many sex filled weekends with us. She helped edit the raw footage of our first day together at the Open House. It was melded into our personal porn tape and helped keep that tape a voyeur crowd favorite to this day!

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> * < Please vote BIG and leave constructive comments. Thanks . . .

============== 12 hrs 0400 11/7/14 ============== 2419 words ============

11/6/14 seminal image: wife and I watching tape of private porn; I'm naked, she's in shorts and tank; strangers walk in for open house

gck 11/7/14



Open House Fantasy



A friend of mine recently built a little townhome neighborhood near my house, and as a favor I agreed to sit in the model home once a week as an on site agent of sorts. It was a five hour open house gig once a week, and if anyone bought one of the places during my shift I would get a piece of the sale. The model home where I spent my time was really nice, well furnished with a couch, a television and a refrigerator, so it wasn't much different than being at home.

Each building had two units, and the units shared a back deck, separated by a rail. The model home was adjacent to the only occupied unit in the whole complex, which would eventually have 40 units but currently only had three built. The idea was to sell a few and then build more.

What I quickly discovered was that my friend had missed the turn on the housing boom, and the only thing I did during my shift was try and stay awake.

Early on, I did discover a side benefit - the girl who lived in the unit next to the model home was very hot. Young and athletic with a nice tan contrasting her short blond hair, she had a great body and a super smile. One of the first days I came to the site she was pulling up in the adjacent driveway with her roommate, who was also a hottie, so I went over and introduced myself. Their names were Nina and Lacie, and they were nice and friendly, and, as I mentioned, they were both hot. 

Over time I noticed that Lacie was often not around, and I surmised that maybe she worked out of town. Nina was frequently there, and it became my past time to watch for her coming and going. I could sit on the couch and look out the front window, and it got to the point where every time she would walk out and get in the car I would find myself holding my breath watching her get in the car. I was pretty bored, so I started to develop some fantasies about my neighbor.

One day I was standing at the window looking through the blinds, and I heard the door on her place shut and saw her walk out. She had on some shorts and a top that revealed a lot of skin, nothing tawdry but very nice to watch. I figured she was going to get in the car and leave, but instead she pulled out a car vac and started cleaning out the car. I was caught between standing there and acting like I wasn't staring at her or moving away from the window and maybe catching her attention, so I stood there for a while just watching, not knowing for sure whether she could see me watching her or not. A few times she would look up toward the window, but never for long. She left for awhile and I went upstairs, where I could look down through the blinds and do some serious looking, at an angle she wouldn't be able to see me.

As I watched her move around the car, I started to get the impression that she was putting on a show. She kept adjusting her top, leaning in to show off her body, and looking toward the windows on my side of the townhome. At one point I walked downstairs and acted like I had just happened to get up to walk by the window, and I was sure she looked into the window and smiled.

Or maybe it was just bored imagination. I'd been reading too much Literotica. 

The next time I was there, it was a sunny day but not too hot, and I was tired of watching television. I had figured out early on that I could sit out back on the deck and see any traffic that came into the place. I would even have time to throw on my shirt in the unlikely event a customer pulled up. So I got a cool drink and a magazine and settled into a comfortable chair on the deck facing the entry to the complex.

I was out there about 15 minutes when I heard the sliding glass door on the adjoining unit open up, and my very attractive blond neighbor walked out in a pair of shorts and a bikini top. The whole deck was only about 20 feet across, so it would be hard to pretend not to notice her. We waved and chatted a bit about the weather, and how bad sales were, and a few other things I don't recall because I was too distracted looking at her great legs. Once again, I was getting the sense that Nina was flirting a bit, but maybe I was reading into it.

Then she asked me to put some lotion on her back, and I suddenly felt like the field had changed. I tried to keep my hands steady as I rubbed some lotion into her back and shoulders, and she gave me a smile of appreciation that made my knees weak. I didn't even realize it but I had developed a hard on, and by the time I did I was in an awkward way to try and hide it, but I leaned back against my side of the railing to ease the tent back.

I can't remember exactly what I said, but it was something about how it seemed like it was getting a little warmer out, and her response was something like "yes," with a long pause, and then "it is".

Out of the corner of my eye, to my total surprise and disdain, I saw a car pull up to the entrance to the development. They hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether to come in and check out the model home, and apparently they didn't hear my screaming brain waves, because they pulled in and started the drive up to the model home.

"I've got a customer," I said, pulling my shirt on. 

She smiled, gave a little finger wave, and wished me luck.

For the next hour I had to deal with a couple of transplanted Yankees who spent most of the time providing me information on what a shitty townhouse it was. I came close to just asking them to leave a few times, but you don't want to lose a buyer in a market like this, so I patiently played the sales game with them until they finally left, with the suggestion that they would think about it, which means no. After they left I went out and looked on the back deck but my leggy neighbor was gone, and my shift ended about thirty minutes later.

For the next week I sat around at home building a fantasy around what may have happened. By the time my next shift came around I had convinced myself that it was all in my head.

Ten minutes into my shift, there was a soft knock on the door to the model home and in walks Nina my blonde haired neighbor, holding a plate of food covered by aluminum foil.

"Hey, I thought you could use some cookies for your open house," she said with a smile. 

I was once again too stunned by how hot she was to think of anything clever to say. Her figure was perfect and her tanned, toned legs were beyond perfect.

"Thanks, those will be great for all the buyers who don't come," I said. "I'll put them in the kitchen."

She followed me in to the kitchen area and I set the cookies down on the counter. 

"I love the way you've decorated the model," she said looking around. "Very nice."

"Let me give you the full tour," I said, my mouth going a bit dry.

I showed her around the place, jokingly acting like the sales agent I was supposed to be, espousing the benefits of home ownership and low money down options. We walked around the downstairs and then went upstairs, touring the bedrooms and ending in the master, where she looked out the window that overlooked her side of the carport and remarked at the view.

I laughed, wondering if she knew just how good.

"I could never buy this place," she said coyly.

"Really, what is it, would you rather have a two bedroom, or a bigger kitchen?"

She smiled as she walked by me out of the room. "The bed's too small."

I felt my stomach drop a bit as I tried to find the gumption to walk back downstairs. By the time I had caught up with her, she was in the kitchen and had taken the wrap off the cookies.

"Have one," she said. "They're my favorite."

She handed one to me, and my doubts about her flirting diminished. She had made the cookies in the shape of a penis, and as I stood there gaping in the kitchen she raised the "head" of one of the cookies up to her mouth and gracefully brought her lips and tongue together to pleasure that cookie in ways you can't imagine.

What happened next is pretty predictable. She had opened the door and I was only to obliged to fill it. I cancelled the open house for the day and we had sex in nearly every room of the model. Some of the closets were too small. But this is not the interesting part of the story.

The interesting thing is that it was all a fantasy that I had being bored at the model home, so I wrote up the elaborate version and submitted it as a story to Literotica. The interesting part comes later.

So two weeks after the story came online I was sitting on the back deck, trying to kill time, when the girl next door shows up on the deck, looking great in shorts and a bikini top. I was chuckling to myself as we chatted, thinking of the irony of it, and then, she hands me her lotion and asks me to put some on her back.

Whoa, I thought, this is like some twilight zone episode. I was more than happy to oblige, and I had to admit that actually doing it was better than the fantasy. The one downside was that it was hotter in reality, and I was starting to work up a sweat, so when I finished I absent mindedly remarked that I was going to go in for a while, because it was getting kind of hot.

"Yes," she says, with a pause. "It is."

The words were ringing in my ears as I walked through the sliding glass door, and the cold air inside hit me as a cold chill went down my spine. What the hell was going on? Was I dreaming? Is she reading my mind or something? I was in the kitchen splashing cold water on my face when she walked in. She was holding a plate. With foil over the top.

"I made cookies for your open house," she said.

Now my mind was in full seizure. I had written the story while sitting in the model, had she hacked into my computer? Not likely. Was I going insane? Much more likely.

She set the cookies on the counter and I stared at her. I must've looked demented, but she just smiled.

"Aren't you going to have one? They're my favorite."

My eyes got bigger as I watched her slowly pull bag the aluminum foil covering the cookies. I had completely stopped breathing by now, and I could hardly think. Her hands reached under the foil and pulled out a cookie. 

Round. Looked like chocolate chip.

I exhaled in some weird combination of relief and regret, smiled and took the cookie. She took one out for herself and took a bite. She noted my reaction.

"You seemed like you were expecting something else," she said.

"No, chocolate chip is great," I said. "They're delicious."

"Well, I have to be honest with you," she said with a smile. "I really don't know how to make a penis shaped cookie."

Bang. Heart stop. 

She took a half step toward me and her lips met mine. I felt her push me back into the counter.

"The door is open, people will come in..." I started to say.

"I locked it," she said, as she pulled my shirt off and her lips moved down my chest.

"The sign for the open house, people will..."

"I took it down," she said, as her hands unbuckled my belt.

"I don't..." I started to say, and then she took me into her mouth. "Oh my God."

Instead of holding an open house, we had sex in nearly every room in the house, pretty much following the script to the letter, so it was like having your greatest fantasy played out for you in real time. Nina was insatiable, and her hot body and sexiness kept me going hard all afternoon. By the time we collapsed on the too-small bed in the master bedroom, I was in a semi conscious state. As we lay there together enjoying the moment, I started to formulate the obvious explanation.

"So, I guess you read my story on Literotica," I said with a smile.

"No, I didn't," she said. "My roommate did, she told me about it."

That news had almost sunken in when Nina continued.

"She thought it was a great story," she said. "But she wants to be included in the sequel."



Open House for Panties



Just a few weeks ago, my next door neighbor put their house up for sale. I learned this via the typical realtor "for sale" sign in the yard. Although my wife and I did not interact much with this family, given they had only lived there for two years and mainly kept to themselves, I was a little disappointed to see them go. The neighbors have a daughter, Tammy that I've enjoyed spying on when she went swimming in, and laid out by, her pool. 

Tammy was 19 years old when the family moved in and did not go to college. Instead, she worked as a waitress at a local sports bar at nights and attended a few community college classes during the days. Tammy was tall, I'd say close to 5'10" and thick but not fat and certainly not obese. Despite being a rather large girl, she has a very curvaceous figure -- everything is in proportion -- accented by long legs and a very large chest. Her long, dark straight hair, green eyes and always-dark skin contribute greatly to her physical attractiveness. Tall, dark and thick are the adjectives that come to mind every time I see her.

As I work from home in an office upstairs, my recent summers have been filled with watching Tammy when she'd lay out by her pool and work on her tan. Despite her frequent outdoor tanning sessions, over the 2 years she's lived next to me she only wore two different bathing suits: a common black bikini and a white, crocheted bikini that has always been -- much to my delight -- about two sizes too small. When she'd wear the black bikini, I'd return to my work. When she wore the white, crocheted bikini, I was unable to take my eyes of her. I love the way the white fabric contrasts with her dark skin and even darker hair. More so, I love the way a good portion of her ass is visible -- her bikini bottom struggles to cover up her ass crack. The view accentuates the curve from hips to waist. When she'd lie out on her stomach, she push the fabric near the crack of her ass to help tan her ass cheeks. The bikini top -- two white, crocheted triangles held in place by strings -- covers little more than her areolas. The tiny white bikini top is no match for her fabulously large tits which practically fall out when she'd lay out on her back.

On the first Sunday that the house was on the market, I noticed an "Open House" sign in the neighbors' yard and throughout the neighborhood. A wild thought crossed my mind -- this would be my opportunity to leave my cum in Tammy's bikini. I wanted to say good bye to the bathing suit that fueled many a jerk-off session in my home office. My plan was to go over to the house near the end of the Open House, find her white, crocheted bikini and fill it with my sticky cum, then replace them so Tammy would have my sperm pressed against her cunt the next time she put on that bikini. I hatched my plan and waited a few hours.

Ten minutes before the end of the Open House, I told my wife I was going next door as I wanted to see what our neighbor's house looked like on the inside and that I'd be back shortly. Having been inside their house before -- but not a lot -- my wife had no interest. I knew this and her pass was not a surprise. 

When I entered the neighbor's house, I was greeted by the realtor. Much to my surprise and disappointment, the realtor, Cindy, is a woman my wife knows socially in the town. Although not friends, they are acquaintances and I've met her before and seen her around town a time or two. 

"Hey there!" I greeted her. "I didn't know this was your listing," I declared with surprise in my voice.

"This isn't my listing. My friend has the listing and agreed to do the Open House today, but had to back out at the last minute because of some family issue. And the sellers had already planned to be gone, so, I'm helping her out." She replied.

"I see." I said. "Lynn and I live next door and I'm just curious to see their house. I'm always interested in what homes in my neighborhood sell for and look like. I hope they get a good price for it." I informed her. 

I wanted her to know that I was not serious about the house and therefore she'd be wasting her time following me around the house. I was on a mission and did not need a tour guide.

"Sure, help yourself, "Cindy replied. "All bedrooms are upstairs, as is a really great media room." 

Cindy is a well-known realtor in my town. She's a reasonably attractive woman but not sexy. I'd guess her age to be in her early 50's and she'd been divorced for quite some time. She obviously spent a great deal of time and money on her appearance and she always looked well cared-for, but the wrinkles in her skin betrayed her age. She was dressed very nicely in a professional skirt of moderate length and a nice silk sleeveless top.

I made my way up the stair case and immediately sought out Tammy's room. Once in there, I made my way to her dresser and -- as quickly and as quietly as I could -- began searching for my target: her white, crocheted bikini bottoms. I carefully opened each dresser drawer so as not to make any noise. I opened a few when I struck gold. I quickly seized the bikini bottoms, quietly closed the drawer (but not all the way -- I intended to put them back when done) and found my way to her closet. I turned on the light, got into the closet and closed the door behind me to provide me some privacy. My cock was already hard and I figured this would not take long. I unzipped my shorts, reached into my boxers and pulled out my rock-hard dick. I held the white bikini bottoms up for inspection. I bathed in the softness of the fabric and admired how tiny they were. I imagined them pressed against Tammy's smooth, dark skin and I visualized her ass and tits, barely covered by this garment.

Assuming they had been washed since I found them in the dresser drawer, I did not even attempt to inhale her scent. I instead quickly scanned her closet, looking for her dirty laundry. Sure enough, I found a basket containing her unwashed clothes. I rifled through, looking for a pair of panties. I came across a cotton pair -- bright pink from the Victoria's Secret "Pink" collection with black trim and a black heart smack dab in the middle of the rear section. I grabbed them, found the crotch and lifted them to my nose. Her musky pussy scent filled my nostrils and reached my brain. My cock twitched with anticipation and I became wild with lust. My left hand lifted the pink cotton panties to my nose so I could breathe in her scent with each breath. My right hand wrapped her white bikini bottoms around my smooth erection and I began to slowly pump myself. Images of Tammy in her tiny, white, crocheted bikini filled my mind -- her thick ass, barely covered with a few inches of ass crack showing. Her big, full tits struggling to stay held in place by the skimpy top. The scent of her pussy in my nose, the feel of the crocheted fabric on my cock, the images in my mind, the naughtiness of my actions and the sight of both of these garments all had me delirious with lust. Although I wanted to go slow and enjoy it, and I tried to make it last, I couldn't restrain myself and my right hand began furiously pumping my dick. 

As that familiar sensation filled my balls, I dropped the panties I was holding up to my nose, filling me with Tammy's pussy scent with each breath. With my left hand, I grabbed the tiny white bikini bottoms and flipped them around so that the crotch part was in the palm of my left hand, facing upwards. I then positioned my left hand at the end of my dick and continued stroking myself with my right hand. I was now ready. Cum began to shoot from my swollen cock and I neatly filled the crotch of Tammy's white bikini bottom with my thick, milky cum. I was nearly dizzy from the delirium but continued slowly stroking until I had emptied my balls into the crotch of Tammy's tiny, white, crocheted bikini bottoms. I looked down and noticed that I had spewed a huge load of thick, milky white cum. I was quite proud of myself. Fortunately, there was plenty of fabric to absorb my load. I took a few seconds to admire the object of my lust --the tiny, white crocheted bikini bottoms -- now slimy with my sperm. I knew I'd miss them but took solace in the fact that, the next time Tammy put these on, my cum would be pressed against her pussy and even her tight asshole. I was still turned on. 

I now had to get the bikini bottoms back into the drawer from where I had taken them. I dropped them to the floor, put my still-hard cock into my boxers and zipped up my shorts. I grabbed the pink cotton panties off the floor and stuffed them into my pocket. I would enjoy these in the privacy of my home at some time in the future, keeping Tammy's scent to remind me of her. I then grabbed the bikini bottoms and quietly opened the door of the closet to leave. As I exited the closet I was confronted by Cindy who had just entered Tammy's bed room. We both froze. "Oh my god! What the hell are you doing?" Cindy asked loudly. She glared at me. 

Her face became red with embarrassment and I could feel heat overcome my own as I became flush. I did not know what to do or say and just stood there, Tammy's white bikini bottoms in my right hand. I knew I had been busted. What could I say? What could I do? Cindy then took charge and began the interrogation.

"Is this why you came here?" she asked, pun likely unintended.

"Yes." I murmured. 

Despite my embarrassment for getting caught, I managed to maintain eye contact with Cindy. I may be a horny, pervert, but I'm still a man.

Cindy exhaled loudly and took a seat on Tammy's bed, facing me. 

"I've never had this happen to me before. I've never heard of such a situation. What am I gonna do?" she asked rhetorically.

"Well, for starters, we could agree to keep this between us and I'll just return home. No harm, no foul" I suggested.

She did not respond, but instead ran her hand through her thick, straight blond hair (a good dye job, I might add) and pondered what she wanted to do about this situation. I did not see the harm in her keeping this between us. As she pondered, she stared down at the ground. Without looking up at me, she addressed me.

"Are you here cause of the girl or are you into panties?" she asked hesitatingly. She seemed afraid of my answer. She then looked up at me to receive my reply.

"A little for her and a lot for her panties, "I replied. I held up my right hand and showed her, "Actually, I like this particular bikini of hers." I said nothing about the pink cotton panties in my pocket. My erection subsided given the tension of the situation. 

"Well, I don't know what to do, Mark. I feel obligated to communicate this to my friend who is the listing agent here but I'm not sure I want to tell her what has happened. "She said, and then paused for what seemed like a long time but was probably a few dozen seconds. While perched on Tammy's bed, she leaned back and rested on her arms and stretched out her legs which were crossed at the ankles.

"Perhaps," she said very carefully, "you'd be willing to earn my silence." She said and fixed her gaze on mine. I found her eyes and noticed a small smile had broken out across her face.

"I might," I replied, "depending upon what you've got in mind."

"I've never seen a man pleasure himself before. I want you to jerk off for me. Do that, and you'll have my silence." She offered.

"How do I know you'll keep your end of the bargain?" I asked.

"What do you have to lose if you take me up on my offer and I renege?" she retorted. "I mean, what's the difference between what you've done and what you might do?" 

"Well, it's a reasonable offer and I'd like to accept it. But I'm nearly 40 years old and just came. I don't know if I can make it happen again so soon after the last one. I'm not 18 years old, you know?" I said, now smiling. "Perhaps you could help me?" I offered. I was fishing for a little something from Cindy. Who knows what I might get???

"Yeah, OK. But first, pull it out and show it to me." She said. 

I tossed Tammy's cum-filled bikini bottoms on to the bed and slowly pulled my cock out of my shorts again. As I showed it to Cindy, it began to grow, stretching out towards her.

She stared at my cock as it fully extended to its 6.5" length. My circumcised cock, smooth and thick, was now fully engorged. Even so, without any help from Cindy, another orgasm was not likely. I spit into the palm of my right hand and began slowly stroking m cock for Cindy. Cindy was smiling widely at me and her gaze was now fixed upon my hand, slowly masturbating my erect penis.

"That's a very nice-looking dick you have there, "Cindy said. "Nice girth," she admired.

"Thanks," I replied. I stroked it a few more minutes. Having an admiring audience was somewhat of a turn-on. I wanted to put on a good show for Cindy. I spit again in my palm and pumped my cock, all the while pointing it right at Cindy's smiling face. 

"Are you enjoying this?" I asked her.

"Absolutely, "she replied. "I find it very sexy watching a man pleasure himself. It's a better experience I thought. I can't wait to watch you cum."

"Well, how about that help?" I asked and reminded her of the low odds of a second orgasm.

"OK, turn around, "she said with a wry smile.

I did as I was told. I turned around so my back was to her and the bed. I was facing the closet door. I continued pumping my hard on as I thought about what Cindy might be doing. I heard her stand up and heard the sounds of some clothes rustling. Was she removing her clothes? I hoped, excitedly.

"You can turn back around now." Cindy instructed.

I turned back to face Cindy who was now standing. Her body was now about two feet from mine. When I turned back and caught her gaze, she lifted her right arm and handed me a pair of black panties.

"Here. These are mine. I just took them off. You can use these to help, seeing as how you've got a serious panty fetish." Cindy said. A smile broke across my face as I took hold of Cindy's black panties with my left hand. They didn't appear to be anything special, but the fabric was smooth and soft and I rubbed them against my cock.

"Can I cum on them?" I asked her.

"Absolutely. I want you to fill them for me." She said with a smile.

Feeling confident now, I found the crotch of her panties with my left hand and lifted them up to my nose. I never took my eyes of Cindy's as I pressed the crotch of her black panties against my nose and inhaled. The scent of her pussy was much stronger than Tammy's and I actually noticed a little dampness in the fabric. Was she wet? I wanted to know. My lust now raged and I felt much better about the odds of producing a nice load for Cindy. I could tell by the look in her face that she enjoyed the fact that I sniffed her panties.

"How does my pussy smell?" Cindy asked "Do you like the scent of my cunt?" 

"Your pussy smells heavenly, Cindy." I replied. "Is it me, or are these panties just a little wet?" I asked.

"Seeing your thick cock and watching you stroke yourself really turn me on. They should be a little wet." Cindy said.

I continued to hold the crotch of her black panties up to my nose and the pace of my right hand around my prick hastened. I really enjoyed smelling her pussy through her panties and my balls sent the signal that my orgasm was near.

"Oh fuck, Cindy, I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna fill your panties with my cum." I moaned. I removed the panties from my nose and wrapped them around my cock.

"Cum for me! I want you to fill my black panties with your cum!" Cindy said, never taking her eyes off my hand feverishly pumping my dick.

"Oh, here goes! I'm cumming! " I nearly shouted. I watched her as she watched my panty-encased cock erupt into her sexy black panties.

Cum spewed from my dick and saturated her black panties. Cindy smiled as drops of milky white goo appeared in and throughout the fabric. I stroked my swollen, red cock until I had emptied the last drop of cum from my balls into her panties. 

"Did you like that, Cindy?" I asked her.

"Oh, that was hot. I really liked the show." She replied. "Now, give me my panties back, please."

I reached out with my left hand and offered her back her panties. She held them up and inspected them.

"Wow, that's a lot of cum for a 40-year old on his second cup!" Cindy said with amazement.

"Thank you!" I replied proudly. "Thanks for your help" I said, with emphasis on the last word.

As she held up the panties, she arranged them and -- much to my astonishment -- slipped her panties back on her under her skirt, cum and all. She caught my look of surprise.

"Oh, I'm gonna enjoy this for quite awhile, "she explained. "The fun for me doesn't stop here."

Cindy picked up Tammy's white bikini bottoms, still wet with my cum and handed them to me.

"What were you going to do with these?" she asked with a smile.

"I'm going to put them back." I said. And with that, I replaced Tammy's tiny white crocheted bikini bottoms to the drawer where I found them. I tucked my now-flaccid cock in to my boxers and shorts and zipped up.

"Well, you've earned my silence. Your secret is safe with me." Cindy said. "Let's go."

We fixed up and Cindy escorted me out of the house, locking the door behind us.

"It was good seeing you, Mark. Thanks for the show!" Cindy said as we proceeded down the walkway.

"You're welcome. I'll put a show on for you any time you want to help." I said. 

As I made my way to my house, I put my hand in my pocket and reminded myself of the pink cotton panties that I had stolen from Tammy. I began to look forward to the next time I would enjoy another woman's panties.



Open House



"Just to make you understand something very important. I want to you to know what I am capable of doing should you breathe a word of this to anyone. And I know where to find you or your loved ones anytime I want."

"I won't tell a soul, I promise!"

"Soul? What a strange choice of a word." Dave mused. He got up off of me and pulled up his jeans. He cut the tape from my wrists. He stuck his knife back into his boot and walked toward the sliding glass door. He paused and turned to me. "He got in this way. When he left, he threw the ax into the pool." And with that, Dave smiled and left, disappearing into the darkness that overcame the overgrown back yard. 

I got up and pulled on my pants and panties. I was able to salvage my ripped blouse and put it on. My blazer was able to cover the damage as I put it on over my tattered blouse. My slashed bra was a lost cause and I stuffed it into my purse. Once I got myself together again, I looked to see if Dave had really gone. He was no where in sight. I was compelled to use my cellular phone and call the police, but I thought against the idea. Anyway, I checked my purse and found that my phone was missing. I closed and locked the sliding glass door. I grabbed my purse, put the lock box on the front door and left. I constantly looked over my shoulder to see if he was following me. I could not tell. I swung by the Chinese restaurant, picked up dinner and went home. It took a lot for me to put up a false front before Paul after the ordeal that I had been through, but I was able to pull it off. I told no one what happened to me that night. 

In the following weeks I wondered about Dave. Was he the mad psychopathic killer that murdered a whole family? If he was, why did he spare me? Was he an avid fan of the killer like he said? Perhaps he was a potential "copy cat killer" that studied the details of the killings and went to the house to pay homage to the site of the brutal massacre. And while there, he found an opportunity in me by taking me against my will at the place of his evil shrine of terror, blood and death. It was his personal Mecca and I was sacrificed for his deviant sexual sacrament. 

About month later, I was showing a house on the West Side to a young couple. On the drive over I received a page. I read the text message, which said, "C/B Dave 555-6284." My heart sunk in dread as I read it. It was my private home phone number!