Real Estate Games Pt. 09

2000 Hippo Street

The next morning, Mark and I met for breakfast at a Waffle House. I was tempted to stand him up; for breakfast... and for the rest of his life. But I was having trouble figuring out why I was so damn pissed.

I shouldn't have been. Mark had certainly upheld his part of the bargain. He was buying three houses a day. Sure, his methods were unusual, but it wasn't as if he didn't warn me. And he hadn't tied me up in over four days, or maybe never... still wasn't sure about that. So, I thought it best to continue our business enterprise until I came to grips with the reason for my anger.

Our first appointment for the day was with a lady I used to babysit as a teenager. Brenda Bovine was ten years younger than me and, even then, outweighed me. She was a pretty faced girl whose parents gave her an otherwise extremely unfortunate set of genes. Presently, she tipped the scales well north of two hundred fifty and her younger brother was at least a hundred pounds heavier than she.

The house she was selling was actually her Mom's... or was until Brenda and her brother inherited it after Mrs. Bovine died of a massive heart attack. Mr. Bovine suffered the same fate several years earlier and there was a good chance that both Brenda and her brother would follow suit in two or three decades. Bovines didn't last much past fifty.

One good thing about Brenda's overly large frame, at least from my point of view, was that Mark wouldn't be tempted to sexually molest her. Hopefully we could look at the house, make an offer, write a check and move on. Like normal people.

Brenda met us at the door wearing a Polynesian muumuu. From the way it shook as she walked, it appeared that her ginormous breasts were unrestrained under the thin fabric. Not that I had room to talk.

Mark poked his head into a couple of rooms and then made an offer just ten thousand below asking.

Just as I suspected. He wants a quick sale so he can move on to something or someone he can have some fun with.

"That's your final offer?" Brenda asked.

"Take it or leave it," Mark answered.

"You know, unlike the rest of the people in this town, I don't have to sell. I'm not moving, and I don't need the money."

"That's fine. Don't sell. There's plenty of other houses in Merryville."

Mark turned to leave but Brenda placed her considerable girth between him and the door.

"Not so fast. We're still negotiating. And from what I've heard, you are quite the deal maker."

"I don't know what you've heard, but from where I stand, you don't have anything else I want."

"But you've got something I want," she said and then whispered into his ear.

Is she really offering to take an even lower price if he fucks her?

Mark's eyes widened. He took a glance towards me as she continued whispering.

"I'll have to discuss this with Miss Moorehead," he said when she finished.

"Take your time," she said. "I'll be upstairs."

We waited until she left the room before speaking.

"Does she want what I think she wants?" I asked in a hushed voice.

"Probably not," Mark said.

"She didn't offer her body to you?"

"Actually, she wants me to include you in the deal," he said.

"Me?"

"I didn't say yes."

"What do I have to do?"

"If you agree, I'll give you a ten percent commission."

"Agree to what?"

"And you can say no at any time."

"Say no to what?"

Against my better judgement, we went upstairs instead of out the front door.

We found Brenda in the master bedroom, leaning against a massive, four poster, king sized bed. I approached cautiously and paused before laying on my back, face up, head on a pillow.

Brenda looked at Mark and winked. Then she looked at me. I nodded in consent and she joined me on the bed... one knee on either side of my head, her ass on my chest, her pussy lips poised just below my nose.

She didn't bother to remove her muumuu. She hiked it up around her waist when getting in position and then just let it fall over my head and upper body. I was completely in the dark and unable to move. After a brief pause, she slowly lowered her bare, but thankfully clean-shaven muff to my mouth.

I won't lie and say it was my first taste of a woman, but it was certainly the biggest meal I'd ever tackled. Surprisingly, it wasn't completely disgusting. She didn't smell bad or have any warts down there. I couldn't see anything, so I imagined it was somebody else. And there was an extremely long list of pussies I would have much rather munched than the one hovering over my lips.

Ten percent. That's what Mark promised me. Thirty-five thousand for thirty minutes of lady licking. That's seventy thousand dollars an hour. I can do this.

I started tentatively. A kiss on a fold of fat I thought was her outer labia but might have been part of an inner thigh. Then a brush of my tongue against a valley that I hoped was her front entrance and not the back door. A few more licks and I heard a muffled moan as she moved above me, forcing my next tongue thrust deeper into the target. I raised my head slightly. My tongue broke through to a second layer... moist and warm. I licked until it sopped with fluid and then moved my head again, even higher, looking for the tiny nub at the very top of her sex. I knew when I found it, both by the feel and from her reaction.

Immobilized as I was -- unable to move my arms, hands, or the rest of my body -- my only recourse was to use my lips, tongue and teeth. A lick here, a kiss there and, once in a while, a gentle nibble. I got into a rhythm, a round robin of stimulation that seemed to be doing the trick... if the amount of vagina wine flowing from the enormous pussy above me was any indication. I was content that the sale was in the bag and I would survive the ordeal until two things happened.

I jumped as something warm and wet ran up my thigh and stopped at my panty less crotch. The warm, wet thing started doing to me what I was doing to Brenda, with similar results. Not a problem. If I was making the ultimate sacrifice for the cause, the least Mark could do was reciprocate.

When it came to pussy licking, Mark was far superior to me. He most likely had years of experience with hundreds of women while my numbers were far less. So, instead of continuing what I had been doing, I simply mimicked his technique on Brenda. To her delight and my dismay.

Her first orgasm took me completely by surprise. My tongue was as far into her as it could possibly go when she clamped down with her pussy and pushed my head down into the pillow. Her thighs contracted, nearly squishing my skull like a grape, as she gushed a gallon into my unsuspecting mouth.

I swallowed what I could and spit out what I couldn't. My cries for help went unanswered, muffled by several inches of fat and drowned out by Brenda's screams of pleasure.

I attempted to escape by sliding under her ass. That's when I realized that the tongue in my pussy had been replaced by a large cock... ramming me in the other direction.

I tried the northern escape route -- away from the cock and the pussy -- only to be thwarted by a strong set of hands around my waist pulling me back towards the pounding piston between my legs.

Two of the largest thighs in Merryville prevented me from rolling away and two hundred fifty pounds of orgasming flesh pressed me deep into the bed.

I was trapped. Every effort to escape only served to bring on yet another Brenda climax. With each successive orgasm she squeezed her thighs a little tighter, pressed her ass down a little harder, and released yet another carafe of vagina wine.

My mouth was full, my nose imbedded in fat. Breathing was getting to be a problem. I had to get out of there or die. But my lower half -- the part with the pecker infested pussy -- had a different plan entirely. It was eagerly latching onto the intruder, milking the man meat with sex muscles that had been too long ignored. My brain was battling with my body, and the flesh was winning.

Got to breath.

Got to come.

Can't last much longer.

Make it last forever.

I'm dying.

I'm in heaven.

My 8.5 Richter orgasm consumed what little oxygen was left in my convulsing body. All sight, sound and consciousness slowly drifted into an abyss of pleasure.

"Is she breathing?" a distant voice asked.

"I can't tell."

"I'll call an ambulance."

"No wait. I think she's coming around."

I opened my eyes to a fuzzy world. There were three shapes huddled around the bed... looking down at me.

"Did I pass out?" I mumbled.

"Not for long," Mark said.

"Long enough to give us quite a scare," Brenda added.

"I was about to do mouth to mouth," said another voice. A male voice.

I closed my eyes and then reopened. Better. Things were coming into focus. I could make out the bed posts. Mark's handsome face. Brenda's concerned look. And her brother's ugly mug.

"When did he get here?" I asked.

"I came in while you were negotiating with my sister," Billy Bovine said with a sinister smile.

"Please tell me he didn't participate."

"Hey, the house is half mine," Billy said.

I glanced at my body. Somebody had mercifully pulled my skirt down to cover my ass... and my blouse, although rumpled, enclosed most of my boobs.

Both men were completely clothed. I couldn't tell who had taken advantage of the situation.

Brenda still wore the muumuu but her previously dour facial expression was replaced with a satisfied glow. She bent down and kissed me full on the lips with a couple tongue plunges before I could escape.

"My oh my. I do taste good," she said before helping me up to a sitting position.

Something warm and sticky flowed out of me and onto my skirt. Despite my dazed state, I knew what I had to do.

"I certainly hope you didn't let Billy Bovine fuck me," I told Mark as we drove away with contract in hand.

"It seems we've had this conversation before. If you enjoyed the experience, does it matter who you were with at the time?"

"It matters immensely. Why won't you tell me?"

"You up for lunch? I'm thinking steak." That was Mark's way of not answering.

"I'm not going anywhere looking like this. We're going to stop at my place for a few minutes so I can shower and change clothes?"

"Good idea. Do I have to wait in the car while you change?" he asked.

"You can wait in Hell for all I care."

Janis' place

I parked in front of my condo, shut off the engine and made a beeline for my door... leaving Mark to roast in the car. With the door locked behind me, I hid my semen stained skirt in a plastic trash bag in the closet, left the rest of my clothes in a heap on the bedroom floor and headed for the shower. Ten, maybe fifteen, minutes later, I reemerged a new woman - or at least a clean one - only to find Mark going through my undie drawer. Among other dubious skills, he apparently had no trouble picking locks.

"Have you no shame?" I asked.

"Have you no suitable under garments?" he countered.

"What kind of man breaks into a woman's house and critiques her lingerie?"

"The type of man who only has your best interests in mind." He held up a pair of my most comfortable undergarments that, admittedly, might be considered granny panties by the more fashion conscious. "How do you plan to close a deal wearing these?"

"I know you find this impossible to comprehend, but most clients never get a look at what's under their agent's dress."

"I'm not talking about exposing your knickers to the general public. They might not know what your underwear looks like, but you do. What you wear close to your skin defines who you are. These," he held up the panties in question, "are worn by a woman who is comfortable with her station in life."

"I don't see anything wrong with either those panties or my life."

"That's where you're wrong. The Janis Moorehead I have grown to know and adore is not satisfied doing things the normal way. She will no longer sit in an empty house reading romance novels while hoping Mr. Right comes through the door."

"Are we talking about my professional or my personal life?"

"Both. And much more. You have the potential to impact the world."

"But only if I wear the right undergarments?"

"Exactly."

"Okay. I'll bite. Reach into my underwear drawer and tell me which set of undies will bring world peace."

"I don't have to. You're already wearing them."

Which didn't make a lick of sense, because all I had on was a towel... that was rolled up on top of my head to keep my wet hair from dripping down my back. Yes. I was having this absolutely inane conversation while completely naked and, somehow, didn't find it unusual.

"You're suggesting that if I quit wearing panties, all my dreams will come true."

"It's a statement. A promise to yourself. Your hidden nakedness is a constant reminder that you have nothing to lose, no safe place to retreat. You either win the day or fall flat on your bare ass. They will either believe what you say or kick you out of town."

"Who will kick me out of town?"

"The city council. You're meeting with them in a few days"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because they're going to invite you."

"To talk about what?"

"Me," he said. "They want to know what I'm up to."

"I thought they didn't know you."

"They don't, yet. But they know something is going on in the Merryville real estate market and it's only a matter of time before they figure out who's behind it. We're going to get ahead of the game and meet them on our terms. That's why you're going to introduce me to them during lunch today."

"Lunch?"

"Go dry your hair while I pick out your clothes. Our reservation is at 12:30."

"What Merryville restaurant requires a reservation for lunch?"

The Sharper Knife

The Sharper Knife was a popular, upscale steak house in the slowly deteriorating downtown area. It was the place people went to propose to their girlfriend, entertain important clients and otherwise be seen by the elite of Merryville, if there was such a group. The cheapest thing on the menu was a twenty-dollar hamburger. Needless to say, I wasn't a regular patron.

I walked in the door at precisely 12:30. My dress was barely long enough to avoid flashing the general public when I sat and cut low enough in front to make men look at least twice when they walked by. At Mark's request, there was no panty line to disrupt the flow of the fabric around my hips.

Mark emerged from the bar as soon as I approached the hostess and escorted me to a corner table. He was dressed to play the part of multi-millionaire slumming with the general public. He wore a fifteen-hundred-dollar suit over a three-hundred-dollar shirt with diamond studs at the collars. A half dozen exotic South American lizards gave their lives to cover his feet and keep his pants up.

A woman with my assets is used to being stared at, but when we walked past the leaders of Merryville that afternoon, the eyes weren't on me. Normal conversation stopped, replaced by a low buzz of hushed voices. Elbows nudged. Fingers pointed. The mayor's wife dropped a crouton down her blouse and the two city council members who were present picked up their phones... texting the news to the other members.

Mark ordered wine and then lunch, for both of us. Once the waitress was gone, he leaned close and whispered, "remember, first names only."

The mayor was the first to approach our table.

"Hello Janis. I can't remember the last time I saw you."

"Yes sir. It has been a while. I think the last time we spoke was at my parent's funeral."

"Oh my. That was over fifteen years ago."

"It will have been sixteen years next month. And I still miss them dearly."

"Yes, yes. I'm sure we all do. But let's not live in the past. Why don't you introduce me to your guest?"

"Mr. Mayor, meet Mark. Mark, Mayor Stuffit."

"Does your friend have a last name?" the Mayor asked.

"Yes sir, I believe he does."

I took a sip of wine. Mark glanced at his phone and responded to an imaginary text.

"How long do you plan on visiting with us?" the Mayor asked Mark after an embarrassingly long silence.

"At least long enough to finish lunch," Mark said.

I continued to sip wine while Mark found yet another reason to study his phone. The Mayor finally got the hint.

"Enjoy your meal. Maybe I'll get a chance to run into you again," he said to Mark and then turned towards me. "And I'm sure you and I will see each other soon."

"Now that's one pissed off politician," I told Mark as the angry, red faced Mayor returned to his table. "Which suits me just fine."

"I sense the two of you have a bit of history. Is he an old boyfriend?"

"Not hardly. I don't date degenerate fossils."

"Wow. With the obvious exception of Raven and yours truly, that's the only time you've said anything derogatory about somebody in my presence. What did he do to you?"

"He might have killed my parents."

"Why would you think that?"

"Mom and Dad were murdered. Shot in a back alley while on their way home from a movie. At the time, Dad was running for mayor against Stuffit."

"Do you really think Stuffit killed your parents so he could be a small-town mayor?"

"Probably not. But Dad was also the union rep at the car plant and Stuffit was in management. They were in the middle of a contract negotiation which wasn't going well. Dad was hinting that there might be a strike. After he and Mom were killed, the strike was cancelled."

"Do you have any proof that Stuffit pulled the trigger?"

"I don't. There was a surveillance camera that should have recorded everything, but the tape magically disappeared."

"Have you looked for it?" Mark asked.

"Where would I look? Break into Stuffit's office and go through his desk drawers? I'm sure that, if he ever had it, the tape was destroyed years ago."

"Maybe not," Mark said. "Maybe I should take look."

"I certainly hope you know what you're doing."

"Don't worry. It's me he's interested in. I don't think you have much to fear from him."

"Just remember, once you leave, I still have to do business here. Let's don't burn any bridges."

"My dear, before this week is over, you and I are going to alienate every bureaucrat in town. We are just beginning to have fun."

Over the course of our expensive meal, three more city leaders approached our table looking for information, and we treated each one just a poorly as we did the Mayor. By the time Mark paid the check, everybody who was anybody in Merryville knew Janis Moorehead was escorting a well-dressed, good looking stranger around town. A man who definitely had something to hide.

Mission accomplished.

While the city council was wondering what Mark was doing in Merryville, I still had a couple of unanswered questions of my own. I too wasn't completely sure what my mysterious but well financed client was up to, but that could wait. What bothered me most about him was whether or not he had properly fucked me... and I mean in the sexual, penis up the pussy, sense. I had no doubt I was getting royally screwed business wise; I just didn't know how... yet.

But back to the question of where his pecker had been, vis a vis my vagina. The semen stained bed spread from my night in handcuffs was still in the trunk of my car. And the similarly soiled dress that I wore while Brenda Bovine sat on my face as either her brother or Mark plugged my other end... it was wrapped in a plastic bag on the top shelf of my closet. The point being, all I needed was another sample -- a squirt of ejaculate that I knew came from Mark -- to determine if the other two cases of blind intercourse were with him or some other sperm donor.

I had a plan to get my Mark Seiman sample that afternoon.