Her car was in the driveway. The "For Sale" sign didn't yet have the open house placard up, but I had seen the sandwich boards announcing it when I had turned onto the side street.
I parked across the street and down a house, not wanting to take up parking for actual home buyers. I sat there with the engine off, waiting for her to come out to put up the open house sign.
The sign wasn't up yet when the first car pulled up, an AMG Mercedes. A young couple got out. Tight jeans, beard, and a trilby for him, while she was wearing a sundress that seemed optimistic for San Francisco in the summer but looked great with her metallic stilettos. They wasted no time heading up the front walk to the entry, so I got out of the car to follow them discreetly.
The door opened and there she was, my reason for hanging out in this posh neighborhood. Her long white skirt clung to her legs as the sea breeze pushed in through the open door. Her smile glittered as she waved the couple past her into the house and pointed towards the brochures she would have laid out in the kitchen. After they disappear down the hall she came down the stoop with the "Open House" sign in hand. Her firm breasts bounced slightly with each step and thin black blouse did little to hide their movement despite its stylishly demure cut.
Turning back to the house after placing the sign, she froze when she saw me standing next to the open door. She must not have expected me to follow through on my threat, but there I was. She stood looking at me, a slight blush to her cheeks, for only a moment before starting towards me.
As she neared the entry, she looked over her shoulder for any arriving guests before saying, "Right this way, sir. I have a brochure for you in the kitchen."
"I'm sure you have something for me in the kitchen." The flush in her cheeks was definitely not makeup now.
Following her back through the foyer, I gave her a head start, savoring the moment and ogling her openly. Her time in the gym was well spent, each ass cheek collapsing the soft pleats of her skirt, and the motion of her hips carried down through the fabric where it whispered to me and gave me glimpses of her shapely calves.
She expected me to be right behind her so she was forced to hold the swinging door at the back of the hall for an awkward moment while I sauntered up to her. Her nervous excitement at having me at her work thrilled me. I loved it every time she glanced over my shoulder looking for someone to catch us. I took my time, undressing her with my eyes, lingering on her curves, feeling the electricity when our eyes met. I could feel the predatory smile, the crinkle in the corner of my eyes. I could hear the other couple upstairs, their voices echoing around the unfurnished house, I knew we had this moment to ourselves.
In the kitchen there was sign-in sheet, a business card holder, and a square array of glossy handouts on the granite island. Two were missing from a corner where the hipster tech couple had each taken one. She went to a cabinet, reaching overhead to where she had placed the reserve stack of glossies.
I stepped behind her, leaned in. My hips against her firm ass, my hands on her hips. Lowering my head to her neck, I take a deep, hungry breath. She smells of her shampoo, a slight touch of perfume, and a spice that is just her, her anticipation, her fear.
For a moment she is frozen there, pinned between cold granite and hot hips. Then, in the space of a heart beat she yields, melting back into me. Her head on a shoulder, I run my hands down her arms. With one hand I take the momentarily forgotten glossies from her hand and lay them on the counter in front of us. My other hand is across her flat belly, gently tugging the front of her blouse down, exposing the top of her cleavage to my hungry gaze. I open my mouth, and slowly exhale my hot breath down her neck, from just below the ear to the point of her shoulder. Her slight tremble feeds my hunger, I'm sure she can feel the beginning of my erection pressed against her.
My free hand comes up to caress the front of her shoulders, her neck, her chin. Caressing back down, I rest my hand, warmly, softly, around her throat. A gentle reminder that I am here to take her. That she is mine, at least for today.
I can wait no longer. I have to feel her nipples caressing the rough palms of my hand. I slide it down into the top of her blouse where my fingers find her cleavage. From there I work my hand completely into her blouse, which is loose and no impediment. Her bra has a sheer, lacy texture. I cup her breast in my hand, squeezing gently but firmly, her whole breast.
I want her to feel owned. I want her to be disheveled, mussed. But I know that she has a job to do and I can't ruin that. I move my lower hand from her belly to her breast. I grab the top of the her bra cup through the material of her blouse. My hand in her clothes lifts her breast out of its cup. Her barely audible gasp suggests I hit a chord. I can see her nipple now, with her breast free of its confining cup and my wrist tenting her shirt. With a caressing gesture, I hold her nipple between thumb and middle finger, then tug gently away from her body, I give less than a quarter twist. Holding it there for a moment I breath in her scent again.
"You are so beautiful." I whisper into her ear.
I see that she's got her bottom lip between her teeth. I let go of her nipple, and her breast bounces back and down into its normal position. I place my hand back on her belly and begin to trace designs on the palm of my hand with her now much harder nipple.
Her hands are grasping the edge of the counter now. I know it's my job to pay attention to our surroundings. I don't hear the couple, the hardwood floors should give plenty of warning. No other guests have come by yet. We're still safe.
I can tell she's happy, snuggled against me, wrapped up in my arms. Time to escalate.
Taking my hand from under her blouse, I grab her hips firmly and pull her with me as I take a step back from the counter. With an arm around her waist, I slide my other hand up her spine. Her hair calls to me, I want to feel its luxurious thick strands wrapped around my fingers. But I stop myself before I ruin her hair. She's at work. Her neck is almost as good.
My fingers wrap around her throat, this time from behind. I can feel the beat of her pulse under my fingertips. With that handle firmly established, I slowly bend her forward, until her head is pillowed on her arms on the counter.
My free hand reaches up under her flowy blouse, and pulls her bra down, completely exposing her breasts. Gently, I pluck her nipples, causing gasps that are both cute and maddening. Her blouse is loose enough that I think it will flop back down freely if needed, so I grab its hem and pull it up to drape from her neck.
The muscles of her back are taut. Caressing them, I revel in their firm nooks and swells. I reach around to her breasts again. Gentle tugs and squeezes, plus the occasional pluck to her nipples or a more forceful, painful squeeze to the root of her breasts, just to keep her on her toes.
She's clearly nervous, shirt up to her shoulders, exposed breasts dangling, but she knows that if she tells me to stop, I will leave. She has to trust me if she wants her prize.
Thinking of her trust perks up my ears. I hear voices at the top of the stairs. I've only got a moment more before I have to cover her up. I want to take her bra off, to hold it in my pocket with the straps dangling out to remind her as I pretend to be looking the place over. I can't do that to her at work.
"Hold still." Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone. Turning it on to the camera, I take an oblique angle shot of her boobs hanging in a kitchen, her face hidden behind her blouse.
Then, kneeling behind her, I grab the hem of her skirt. I know something I can take from her here. They're still upstairs, comparing notes probably. I lift her skirt up, exposing the entirety of her legs and more. Her tight round ass is bisected by a tiny, black g-string.
"No please," comes a small whisper. She knows "No" isn't the safeword.
Caressing up from an ankle to the apex of her thighs, feeling the firm, feminine musculature, the smooth skin. I can smell her arousal. With a hand on each hip, I hook my thumbs up under the thin waist-band, and caressing the outsides of her legs, draw them smoothly down to her ankles. Time could be short, that couple can't stand up there all day.
Caressing an ankle, "Lift." She draws a knee up slightly and I pull her underwear down over her strappy black pump. "Now the other." I tuck her sexy little thong in my back pocket. She'll get it back from me later.
I raise my hands to her ass. With a squeeze, I spread her cheeks even wider to get the best view possible. Back out comes the phone. I turn on the flash to make sure the strings and droplets of her wetness show up. We only have moments.
"God I love how wet you get. I love that you make such a mess for me."
Her response is nervous, "Please..."
Bringing my face in close, I lap quickly at her thighs, where a slight rivlet has started. Her skin is smooth, salty sweet. Pressing my face into her, I stretch my tongue as far forward as possible and begin a long, slow lick back towards her ass. The folds of her sex are slick and hot for me. My erection is painful in my pants so I reach down with on hand to pull the head of my cock up out of my pants, above my belt.