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Chapter 56 — The Real Estate Lady
Even before I met my young niece Giang last week, Nguyet had sent me a message from her email account at the real estate company where she worked. She pretended that she had seen on social media that I was living in our small town, and now she wanted to show –and sell—me a house ‚proactively’, as she had written. She praised her company and herself from the treetops and suggested that we meet at her model home for lunch the following week.
As this whole arrangement sounded strongly like another sensual role-play, I didn’t agree immediately to notch up the tension and met with my niece instead, as delineated last week. Now the time was ripe, however, to meet Nguyet or Ms. Nguyen Thi Lan Nguyet, as it said on her company’s webpage, and give her a chance to put across what she had to offer. Knowing her, Ms. Nguyen Thi Lan Nguyet would deploy all stimuli and charms to twist my arm and other parts of the body.
The website from which she had written me seemed legit, and Nguyet looked hot in pretty much every picture. There was a portrait picture of her at the top-right, but further down she was depicted showing houses and rooms to potential buyers, in which she was wearing a navy-blue business suit. She looked like a First-class flight attendant, which was also how she wrote: self-confidently, full of vigor and pizzazz, completely convinced of herself and her product. But also sexy and wonderfully ambiguous; for instance, when she promised that we ‚would definitely come to a conclusion.’
On said day, I drove over to the model home where Nguyet worked at around 11. I had put on dress pants to make the whole thing more authentic, and she didn’t disappoint either. She was wearing her blue business suit again, just like in the pictures, and she had her hair up on the back of her head. Like my niece Giang, it was parted asymmetrically, but it was coiffed much more professionally: every single hair was exactly where she wanted it to be. She was also wearing subtle lipstick, and with her burgundy breast handkerchief she looked as neat as a pin.
When I had stepped into the house, she was still busy with another client and asked me to take a seat. As I had been there several times before, there wasn’t much to see, apart from her. But that was enough, as I loved every detail of her body, demeanor, attitude, and personality. I loved her nimble movements when she turned pages over to sign them, before she went across the room to the copy machine and turned back to me, holding onto the lid. The other customer didn’t have eyes for her but was reading the small print on the pages she had put under his nose.
Now, he seemed to have lost his patience, as it was lunch-time, and so he just took the stack of papers, hit the desk with the sides of the stack of documents until they were all exactly arranged on top of each other, and put them in his briefcase. He got up and took his leave, nodding at me. Nguyet accompanied him to the door, which she then locked after he had driven off. Knowing that that might have sounded suspicious, she explained:
“We’re going upstairs in a minute, Mr. Ben.”
So I got up and waited till she was done. She switched off the computer and looked around before we would go upstairs to ‘come to a conclusion’. Probably twice. I had nothing else to do but to admire her gorgeous face and chiseled body. Then, we walked up the stairs and sniffed each other out. Ms. Nguyet was almost 33, and her body and mind were at their absolute prime. Every movement of her was a feast for the eyes. Relatively small as she was, she was looking up at me with her hazel eyes while we were talking, and she nodded from time to time to encourage me to continue.
She had already asked me about my experiences with the real estate market here in our small town, and now she switched to my family:
“You said you have one child … are you planning on another? I need to know that because of the number of bedrooms,” she added.
“Probably. And if not, an extra room doesn’t hurt,” I replied.
She nodded as we reached the second floor and looked around. She had unbuttoned her jacket and I now could see her lacy white bra under her white blouse. She noticed that I was sizing up her breasts but continued lauding the house without missing a beat. She praised the view from the window and then raved on the American-style walk-in closets. When she wasn’t using her hands to point at something, she intertwined her fingers in front of her pussy, which looked awfully hot.
Nguyet was pouring out the charm, even though she knew this was just a role-play. Or maybe because of it. In any case, she must have known that I wasn’t gonna buy a house from her. Once, my wife and I had attended a house-warming party in that new subdivision and left disappointed. Neither of us like the cookie-cutter floor plans, streets, or white picket fences. On top of that, some idiot had nicked my sandals, so that we had to buy new ones on the türbanlı escort way home.
Finally, we had arrived at the bedroom, where Nguyet showed off the large, built-in wardrobes and then sat down on the bed, like she needed a break. I sat down near her; our knees would have met three or four feet away from us, as we were sitting in a 45-degree angle. Nguyet watched me look around for a few more seconds, and seemed to be thinking what else she could ask or tell me.
Nguyet’s stocking-clad legs looked absolutely stunning. Her skirt wasn’t a miniskirt, of course, but it was short enough to offer hope that I might catch a glance of her white flesh near her panties at some point—if she was wearing tights, that was. She took off her jacket, which she then put behind her on the bed. Now she crossed one thigh over the other, which killed the hope but brought out the legs’ beauty to the utmost. Her black nylon stockings were stretched now, of course, which altered their color to a somewhat indefinite darker brown.
Yes, here she was: the embodiment of the interface of culture and nature. A cultivated young, healthy, beautiful woman who was ready to live out her natural, sensual and sexual side. She had untied her legs in the meantime but was still holding her knees together. The way her stocking-cladded thighs were peeking from under her skirt, I developed a nice erection, of course. I didn’t think she had noticed yet, but the way she propped her upper body on her stretched arms behind her, I sensed that she was making plans how to get the whole thing started.
“You aren’t married?” I asked her to condense and propel the choreography forward from my end a little bit.
She just shook her head: “No, not yet. But I have a cute little son from a brief relationship with a former coworker,” she let me know proudly and truthfully.
I nodded, looked back at her legs and then her blouse, which was of a simple design and rather translucent. Her lacy white bra underneath seemed like an accessory, like she wanted it to be seen. And yet, this detail was pretty unobtrusive. I asked myself if she wasn’t going to pull up her skirt a little to expose her legs or even her panties. I was really keen on seeing a little bit of her white flesh above the hems of her tights. Well, perhaps she was wearing pantyhose; then, it wouldn’t matter anyway.
Now I, too, propped my body on my arms behind me and exposed my crotch. My dick was twitching involuntarily in my thin dress pants, which she noticed. She lost her composure for a split-second, but regained it and asked what I wanted to do for lunch.
“Shall we call some place and order food or quickly go downstairs? There’s a small café around the corner,” she laid out the options.
“Whatever you prefer,” I told her. “But maybe it would be better to go for a quick stroll?”
“Well,” she laughed, pointing at my dick with her chin, “You don’t wanna parade past all the construction workers with that tool, do you?”
“Well, yeah, perhaps it would be better if we ate here,” I admitted sheepishly.
Nguyet put on a mocking smile: “There’s an antidote to your problem, though,” she said, opening her legs a little and driving the spiral of arousal further upward.
As much as I immediately tried to catch a glimpse of her white thighs, I couldn’t; her stockings were still touching each other up there and her skirt covered everything from above.
“An antidote? Like a remedy?” I played dumb.
“Oh, Mister Ben, you are a little slow-witted today, aren’t you? Come on, I’ll relieve you a little before we eat.”
She moved closer and put her hand in my crotch. I smelled her perfume again, and we kissed for the first time.
“Ms. Nguyet, I’m married,” I cautioned her.
“Well, your wife isn’t here. And, after you leave here, no one will be able tell that I’ve given you a blowjob. It’s not that it’s written on your forehead. But if you want to walk around with a stiff rod, fine,” she insisted, sat up, and pulled her hand away.
“You’re right, of course, Ms. Nguyet,” I said as I was moving forward to sit on the edge of the bed. “You said you wanted to blow me?” I double-checked.
Nguyet nodded, and so I unbuttoned my pants. She stood directly in front of me and, for some reason, took off her high heels. I watched her belly heave as she was breathing. At first, I thought I would leave my pants and underpants on my ankles but then I got up briefly and removed them fully. I also opened the button at the last button of my shirt and draped the fabric to the left and right of my stiff cock.
I had hoped that Ms. Nguyet would unbutton her blouse but that wasn’t the case. Apart from her shoes, she left everything on but now kneeled between my legs. She looked up at me again with her large hazel eyes, removed one stray pubic hair that had gotten stuck under my foreskin with her fingers, and took my dick in her mouth. Of course, it felt great to have my needy rod in Nguyet’s warm, soft, and moist habitat. She knew all the ropes.
She flinched a little when I started to stroke her hair but let me continue. Her hands were on my thighs, and as far as I could remember, she hadn’t used them yet, apart from the moment when she had removed that one pubic hair. My dick was pretty deep in her mouth, while I was caressing her ears and neck. For more, I would have to bend.
But why not?! Bend I did, able to reach her butt. Unfortunately, her skirt was fairly stiff, so that I couldn’t just pull it up. I caressed her tiny but plump little bottom, like I did with Jenny the previous summer when we were arranged exactly like this outside her house on a wooden camping bed, analyzing the sex survey Jenny had conducted. Nguyet’s skirt here was stiffer than Jenny’s flimsy little dress, though, so I just squeezed the real estate agent’s little ass some more through the fabric.
Nguyet’s blowing was on another plane today: No movement of her head was in vain, and the negative pressure she applied was carefully calibrated. If she continued like this—and I had no reason to believe she wouldn’t—I’d come in under a minute. But did she want that? Coming in her mouth was unusual in our relationship; it was almost against her nature.
Half a minute later, she indeed let my cock snap out of her mouth; perhaps she needed a break. She looked at me and seemed to me making a difficult decision. She got up, and I immediately put my hand on her belly, directly under the waistband of her skirt. I felt it move and realized that Nguyet was panting heavily.
“Mister Ben, I never thought it would come to that, but … I know you’re married … but … I want you to fuck me,” she admitted.
I nodded, before I watched her reach under her skirt and take off her panties. Interestingly, they were white, which seemed odd, considering she was wearing an elaborate outfit with black tights. Anyway, when she handed them to me, I took a deep drag, before I pushed her skirt up.
The lower half of her pubic hair was already wet and sticky. I searched for her oily, greasy labia underneath her thick, dense curls and then licked my fingers. Aroused as we both were, she just sat down on my lap and fumbled my stiff dick in her wet velvety sheath. She waited until her body weight had made my dick disappear completely in her and then began to bob up and down, holding onto my neck with both hands. I supported her graceful yet vehement movements with my hands under her thighs.
We kissed like mad, and the symphony of sounds and smells made me dizzy. Nguyet was biting my earlobes and I almost passed out when I had buried my mouth and nose in her hair too deeply. Finally, I took my hands of her legs and switched to kneading her small bosom through the fabric of her blouse, before I came profusely inside her. Roaring and screaming, I pressed her upper body onto my chest and her ass down on my crotch, so that we wouldn’t lose a drop. She didn’t hold back either, yelling and moaning from the top of her lungs. United in such a fashion, we waited until we had come down again and then looked at each other.
“Well, let’s go and eat now,” she suggested.
“Ms. Nguyet, let’s wait a minute or two,” I requested, as my dick was still inside her.
To emphasize my point, I cruised along her moist butt crack with my middle finger. She laughed, as it tickled her, apparently. I loved to press her small butt cheeks and suggested to eat here at the house.
“Ms. Nguyet, I haven’t seen you naked yet. If we order food and eat here, we could take a shower while we’re waiting and then do it again.”
“First, you don’t wanna do it, and now you are getting greedy,” she complained. “Didn’t you say you were married?” she said mock-indignantly.
“Well, we’ve done it once already. From a moral point of view, there isn’t really a difference between doing it once or twice,” I argued.
I wasn’t sure if she was buying that, but I realized that my dick had slipped out of her, and I heard a large blob of cum hit the floor, as quiet as it was in the room.
“I would like to lick you, too,” I confessed. “And see your little cunt. I’m sure it’s perfect,” I added.
“That’s quite a list … I don’t know … I’ve never undressed in front of a client,” she admitted.
“Well, I’ve never had a blowjob from a real estate agent, either. Which was your idea,” I reminded her. “But you have a stunning figure, Ms. Nguyet. Don’t take the moral high ground now.”
“If I blow a customer to expedite things, that doesn’t mean we can have sex. That’s two different things,” she insisted.
“But YOU took off your panties and sat down on my dick,” I reminded her. “I would have come in your mouth,” I added, even though I vastly preferred coming in a tight, muscular, moist pussy—Nguyet’s or any other woman’s. That’s just how it’s done.
“Well, I kinda forgot myself earlier. But we need to remember why you are here today. You know, I only felt sorry for you when I saw that tool in your pants and wanted to relieve you …”
She stood up, cutting our conversation off. To prevent more sperm from leaking out she put her panties back on and tidied her clothes. I was full of longing for the aroma of her bush and her wet triangle, which must have smelled absolutely titillating right now. On the other hand, I was hungry and needed some time to recuperate anyway. So I got up, too, and dressed again.
Now we were at the crossroads: should we go outside or order food and spend the next hour dancing around the house naked? To state my preference, I stepped closer to her and reached under her skirt, where I met her nether lips in her soaked panties. I squeezed and rubbed her pussy and said:
“Let’s eat here. And then you show me around some more …”
Nguyet nodded and reached for her phone. As she was scrolling through her saved numbers, she asked what I wanted to eat.
“You, Ms. Nguyet.”
She laughed and blushed, still looking at her phone.
“No, seriously. We’ll order quickly and while we’re waiting, I’ll show you something,” she laughed.
As this sounded enticing, I just said: “Chicken and rice or pizza or whatever. Honestly, just order what you want, Nguyet.”
She dialed a number and spoke with someone at the other end. It sounded like pizza.
“You like pizza, don’t you?” she asked me when she was done. “If not, I’ve also ordered pasta chicken alfredo,” she added.
“Both sounds good. One detail interests me more than anything right now, though: you blow clients regularly?”
“Not regularly. Only if I like them and if they’re handsome. Like you,” the real estate agent laughed.
“No sex?!” I inquired further.
“No, at least not here in Vietnam. When I was still working on Singapore, yes. I’ll tell you more over lunch, ok?” she replied.
We went over to the window and looked at the neighborhood. The houses across the street had small picket fences, like in the States. All in all, it looked like a row of doll houses. I actually wanted to live in a village or, at least, in an old neighborhood here in town that had grown over decades. Both options had more character. We talked a little more about the advantages and drawbacks of such subdivisions here but then she suddenly said:
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
It was difficult to gauge if she wanted me to go with her. When I checked, she had left the door ajar, maybe eight inches, which I took as an invitation to follow her. When I stepped inside the bathroom, she had just reached under her skirt and pulled her panties down to her knees. She paused and looked at me slightly mock-miffed.
“This isn’t part of the showing,” she reminded me, completely being the realtor again.
“Well, Ms. Nguyet, the door was ajar … I mean … after what happened 30 minutes ago, I thought …” I shillyshallied.
She stepped lasciviously out of her undies and asked what I wanted.
“I want to watch you piss,” I confessed. “I mean; we’re waiting for the food anyway …”
She seemed to think whether she—as a real estate broker—could allow me to see what I had asked for, but just when she had lifted her skirt and exposed her prominent, pretty large pubic triangle, the doorbell rang downstairs. She snorted and dropped her skirt to get the door.
“Uurgh!” she exclaimed as she was passing me.
I also needed to pee, but perhaps she would be mad at me if I had nothing to offer her later. So I just undressed and waited for her to come back. I could hear her put something on the table before she came back into the bathroom.
“Now we’re looking at the house naked?” she took the mickey out of me and went back to the toilet bowl.
But when she saw the bathtub, she conceived another idea. She took off her blouse and her skirt, opened her bra in the back and let it slide down her arms. I could see that her black, hold-up stockings had some white cum specks on them, close to the hem at the top.
“Here,” she said pointing at the large, round tub, “you could amuse yourself with your whole family. Or whoever. In any case, it’s big enough for you,” she gesticulated and invited me to sit down.
I didn’t need a second invitation and sat down on the bench along the wall. Nguyet stepped in as well, still wearing her stockings, and was now standing over me. Her pussy was heaving and now she spread her lips with two fingers of her right hand. A vermillion vertical eye was looking at me, pumping, trying to turn inside out.
“Are you sure that you want that, Mister Ben?” Nguyet double-checked.
I nodded vehemently, and so she stepped a few inches closer and just let go. First, she wiggled her ass a little to micturate all over me. I loved that she was still wearing her stockings, as it sublated once more her cultural and her natural sides in the Hegelian sense: The Nguyet of society, the real estate broker in stockings who was now free to unleash the other, wilder aspects of her personality, which we all have to hide for the most part of our lives. I sensed that letting completely go of societal mores provided as much pleasure for Nguyet as a good fuck.
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