Realtor

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

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

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

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

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

Ellen had sent me some paperwork on the house, which I had studied carefully. I started to recite the spiel I had been rehearsing in my mind for the past two hours, but Mrs. Masterson interrupted me with a wave of her hand. "This is a minor concern. Let's see what we have inside."

I was flustered from being interrupted and felt disoriented. I opened the door and let them in. They didn't wait for me to show them around. They immediately went to the large brass, stone, and iron staircase and headed upstairs. I stumbled behind them, trying to remember what I had planned to say about the bedrooms upstairs. My script was worthless and I couldn't think of an ad lib that would let me get back on track.

They poked their heads into the first two rooms and continued down the hall to the master suite. They ducked quickly inside and shut the door in my face.

I had a flash of anger at the way they were treating me. They wouldn't have dared to do this to Ellen! I threw open the door and went after them.

The bedroom was dominated by a king-sized platform bed and large, abstract paintings on the walls. Mr. and Mrs. Masterson were standing in the center of the room in a tight embrace, kissing.

"Ahem," I said.

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

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

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

"I – I – I'm not sure."

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

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

"What you're telling me is you're not a real realtor. You're just some show toy, a pretty little bauble for my use and entertainment?"

I looked down at my feet, ashamed. How did she peg me so easily? "Yes," I whispered.

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

"Karen," I said.

"Take off your clothes, Karen."

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

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

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

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

"Suck it," she said.

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

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

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

"Now fuck her."

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

"I – I don't know."

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

He let go of my ass and reoriented himself. His glans bumped against my anus. And then the relentless pressure. And then, with a sudden surge of pain, he entered me. I cried out, but he didn't stop. I pulled on the ropes around my wrists, but they wouldn't budge.

Just when I thought I couldn't take the pain any longer, it began to subside. I relaxed, and his cock pushed deep inside my ass.

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

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

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

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

Mr. Masterson began to growl, over and over again. And then he thrust deep and his cock throbbed in my ass, filling my rectum with come.

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

The dick eased out of my ass, and I felt the emptiness return. But I wasn't past letting Ellen take the fall for this. "Ellen," I said. "Ellen Rabinoff."

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

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

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