**********ADULTS ONLY**********

The Realtor 
(C) by Erotin Thraller

Sometimes there danger.  Sometimes excitement.  Sometimes 
preparing a house to sell has very interesting results.

Codes:  exhib, voy, MF

Chapter 1, Nancy

The house was empty.  I mean there was absolutely 
nothing in it.  Not only was there no furniture, but 
every closet was empty, the cupboards clean, and the 
floors were swept, scrubbed, and shined.  In most 
ways, it was actually in very good shape for showing, 
just as it was.  But I was not about to tell anyone 
that because then I would not have a job, and I can 
always use the money.  

You see, I'm a stager, at least that's the term now 
used to describe my vocation.  Please note there's 
only one "g" in the word, although more than once 
people have accused me of staggering.  I know, the 
dictionary says a stager is a person who possesses 
wisdom from long experience, and I suppose in a way 
that's true.  Yes, I do have experience, but in a 
specialized way.  As a stager, my job is to prepare a 
house so potential buyers get such a good impression 
of it that they will want to purchase it.  I can 
increase the value of a house an amazing amount simply 
by adding a few shrubs to the yard, changing colors in 
a room, or adding the proper furniture.  Usually I get 
a base fee plus a percentage of the additional profit, 
which provides me with a very good living.

Oh, let me introduce myself.  My name is William H. 
Yandell, and if you make a crack about my initials, 
I'll give you why!  My hair is dark brown; I'm 6'2" 
and weigh 190.  Perhaps you think it's odd that I 
would go into the home decorating business, but I've 
found my size comes in mighty handy when the time 
comes to move furniture.  All that lifting keeps me in 
shape a whole lot better than working out in some gym.  
It pays better too, and I'm quite pleased with the 
result in how I look.  Please pardon my personal 
pride.

So, like I said earlier, the house was empty.  This 
was a new job, the first time I had any occasion to be 
on Libido Lane so I double checked the number.  It was 
97205, the second house on the left.  Nancy had 
arranged for me to meet her to inspect the place and 
make initial suggestions.  It was late afternoon, and 
I was looking forward to dinner.  Nancy was already 
standing on the front steps when I arrived, apparently 
trying to get her keys to open the lock box.  I parked 
behind her Buick Lucerne, and as I swung down out of 
my van I heard her exclaim, "There!"  The front door 
swung open, but she waited for me, holding the door 
open as I crossed the lawn and climbed the steps.

Nancy Porter is probably the top realtor in the city.  
Actually, she's ranked among the top ten realtors in 
the entire county.  She sells enough houses to be able 
to afford to work at a percentage of each sale lower 
than most realtors, and that gives her even more 
business.  Many realtors are jealous of her, but 
that's all right.  Especially with me since, besides 
her professional qualities, she's mighty easy to look 
at.  I mean, she's about 5'5" with natural blonde hair 
that's so long she can almost sit on it.  Not only is 
her hair long, but so are her legs.  They are 
disproportionately long for her height.  As she stood 
there on the porch, I took note that she was dressed 
in a dark blue power suit, obviously tailored.  The 
brief blazer was buttoned low and tight, accenting her 
bust but revealing only a hint of cleavage, much less 
than popular with the current style.  Her skirt fitted 
snugly around her hips, then swept in a straight line 
down to well below her knees.  She's one of those few 
women who were apparently born wearing high heels.  
I've never seen her in anything else, and those heels 
shape her legs, at least what of them are showing, 
until they look good enough to eat.  The total effect 
meant that simply being around her seems always to set 
my imagination on edge.  Nevertheless, through 
considerable effort on my part, we have maintained a 
strictly professional attitude toward one another, an 
attitude I work very hard to maintain, for obvious 
financial reasons.

She was all business as I approached the porch, and 
she smiled at me sweetly as I brushed past her and 
entered the house.  "As you can see," she began, "the 
cleaning crew has already been here.  The house is 
empty, polished, and completely ready for your magic 
touch."

"So I see," I told her, forcing myself to turn my 
attention away from her in order to survey our 
surroundings.  The architecture was non-descript, 
typical of the cracker-box pressed-wood frame houses 
going up in every suburb in the country.  Nothing 
about the house itself made it appealing, a fact the 
owners had apparently recognized, which is why they 
agreed to have me stage the property for them.  The 
first floor had the usual kitchen, laundry-mud room, 
living room and bath.  A little deck out back was the 
only attractive feature.  The owners had probably 
added it on their own.  A couple of shrubs and a few 
perennials graced the tiny lawn.

"You'll want to see upstairs," Nancy suggested and led 
the way to the staircase.  I followed her, almost 
tripping on the first step, mostly because I was not 
really looking where I was going.  Instead, I had been 
looking up, watching the sway of her hips, bound in 
her tight skirt, as she lifted her legs one step at a 
time to climb the stairs.  No panty line, I noted, 
which caused me to wonder what Nancy might be wearing 
beneath that long, tight skirt.  That's when I 
tripped.  When I looked up, I realized she had turned 
to watch me.  A faint smile of amusement played across 
her lips.  For a moment, I thought she might be angry, 
but instead she laughed.  "Should I have allowed you 
to lead the way?"

"Oh, no, this is fine," I assured her.  She laughed 
again as she proceeded quickly on around the landing, 
then up to the top of the stairs.  I followed more 
slowly, pausing to consider how the landing might be 
improved with a little enhancement.  She was nowhere 
to be seen when I reached the second floor.  Two doors 
were standing open, allowing me to see into non-
descript square bedrooms.  Like the rest of the house, 
they were completely empty.  A third door was closed, 
and I pushed it open, assuming it was the master 
bedroom.  As I entered, my head received a terrific 
blow.  The lights went out.

Sometime later - I'm not sure how long - I woke up on 
the floor.  My head hurt terribly.  I was stiff.  And 
cold.  I pulled my legs up under me, starting to stand 
up.  It was then I realized that I was completely 
naked.  While I was unconscious, someone had removed 
all my clothes.  I was completely bare!  Moving made 
my head hurt even more.  I reached up to rub my head 
where it hurt, but something jerked at my arm, pulling 
it up short.  There was a handcuff on my wrist.

"Ooh, don't do that," a voice complained.  My brain 
was still foggy, so I turned slowly, finally realizing 
the voice belonged to Nancy.  She was sitting beside 
me on the floor, and the movement of my arm had jerked 
her wrist.  As my eyes began to focus, I realized we 
were handcuffed together.  That was not all I could 
see, for Nancy was just as naked as I was.  

Chapter Two, Naked

"I wondered when you would finally come around," Nancy 
stated flatly.  Her voice conveyed no emotion.  "You 
took quite a blow."  She had her legs pulled up under 
her and her free arm tucked up tight to her chests, 
obviously trying to cover her breasts.

"It must have been," I agreed.  "My head hurts."  I 
struggled to turn enough to bring myself to a sitting 
position.  "What happened?  And why are we here 
without any clothes?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," she explained, which 
I took as no explanation at all.

"Who hit me?  Did you hit me?" I asked, unwilling, 
even in my foggy state of mind, to believe she would 
do such a thing.

"No, when I came through the door, I saw two men.  
Both had guns, and they were aimed right at me.  I 
think they were using the house to repackage pills.  
You know, drugs.  There were a lot of little plastic 
bags all over the floor.  I thought they were going to 
shoot me, but one of them grabbed me and held his hand 
over my mouth.  I couldn't warn you.  Then you came 
in, and the other one hit you."

"So did they hurt you?"

"No, but they made me take off your clothes.  Then 
they made me undress.  After that, they handcuffed us 
together.  All I could do was just sit here beside you 
while they packed up and left.  They took everything, 
even our clothes.  Are you all right?  You lay so 
still I was afraid they had killed you.  So I checked 
your breathing, and it seemed regular enough.  All I 
knew to do was just wait for you to come around."

"Well, we need to get out of here.  I have some spare 
clothes in my van," I offered.

"Do you think your head's clear enough to stand?" 
Nancy asked.

"I hope so, but we'll have to work together, unless 
they left you a key to these cuffs."

"No such luck," she complained, raising her right arm.  
It was securely fastened to my left arm, for which I 
was momentarily pleased because I'm right-handed and 
that arm was free.  

"Okay, together now," I instructed.  And together we 
stood.  The process meant losing any sense of dignity 
or modesty we might previously have tried to maintain.  
It also meant I got a really good look at Nancy.  I 
mean, every part of her was right out there in the 
open for me to see.  And look is what I did.  The 
first thing to catch my attention was her breasts.  
There they were, bare and bouncy, swaying with each 
move she made.  I'm not good at guessing size, but 
they were certainly more than a handful.  Each.  A 
lovely pair of twins.  That's when I remembered 
earlier having wondered what Nancy was wearing under 
her skirt.  Whatever it was, it was gone, and I 
couldn't help but smile.  Then, as I surveyed the rest 
of her body, I foolishly spoke without thinking, 
"Nancy, you're not blonde all over, are you?"

"I was afraid you would say that," she laughed, 
reaching down momentarily with her free hand to fluff 
her puff of black pubic hair.  Then she looked 
straight at me, still running her fingers through her 
hair.  Then, pointing at my erection, she said 
bluntly, "Thank you for the compliment.  I do 
appreciate it."  She grinned broadly, and for a moment 
I thought she was going to grasp it.  No such luck.

"Yeah," I said, "there are times he seems to have a 
mind of his own."  Nancy frowned, so I added, "But 
right now I certainly share his opinion.  You're 
lovely.  Absolutely lovely."  

She ignored my statement and tugged at my handcuff as 
she pulled me toward the bathroom.   "Do you suppose 
they left anything we can use to cover up?" she asked.   

We checked the linen closet, towel racks, top shelves 
in the closets, everywhere, but there was nothing.  "I 
never thought I'd say this," Nancy complained, "but it 
looks like our cleaning crew was much too thorough.  
They didn't even leave a dust rag."

"Maybe downstairs," I suggested.  "I'm not sure I'm 
ready to go prancing across the lawn to my van quite 
like this."

"Me either."  She led the way, sort of, since neither 
of us could get very far from the other, linked as we 
were together by the chain on our wrists.  This time 
we took the stairs together, which in itself was an 
interesting experience, for the steps were narrow 
enough that we kept rubbing against each other.  
Frustrated though I was, I found the contact between 
our naked bodies to be quite enjoyable.  And I noticed 
she was not trying to avoid the contact.

A search of the downstairs turned up nothing.  The 
kitchen cupboards were empty and clean.  So were the  
bathroom cabinets.  Even the garage had been emptied.

"Isn't it amazing," I commented as we wandered back 
into the living room, how many things we take for 
granted.  Like the stuff in my pockets.  I always have 
a knife with me.  But now...?"

"I keep a screwdriver in a kitchen drawer at home," 
she volunteered.  "Now we have nothing.  How in the 
world did that cleaning crew empty this place out so 
completely?"  For awhile, we simply stood and stared, 
first at the room, then at each other.  Suddenly, 
Nancy exclaimed, "The windows!"

"What about them?"

"They're open," she gasps.  Indeed they were - not the 
panes, as if to let in air, but the windows were 
totally devoid of any treatments.  No blinds, no 
drapes, no curtains.  Just bare glass open to the 
street beyond.

"For a moment," Nancy gasped, "I could see us wrapping 
ourselves in the draperies, then running across the 
lawn to our cars.  No such luck.  The cleaning crew 
took them to be pressed."  The chain jerked against my 
wrist as she clasped both her hands over her breasts.  
"Damn!" she exploded.  "We're in a totally clean house 
with not a stitch of fabric to cover us.  Now what do 
we do?"

"Make a run for it?" I asked, halfheartedly.  It was 
then I realized the street out front was as empty as 
the house.  "My van is gone!"  I dragged her 
protesting to the window and looked out.

"So is my Buick!" exclaimed Nancy.  

"Those low-down dirty thieves!  They took our clothes, 
and they stole our cars."

"And we worried about getting across the lawn to our 
cars.  Now it looks like we may have to streak all the 
way across town.  To my office.  Or to my home."  She 
collapsed against me, her head buried against my 
chest.  Sobbing, she moaned, "Oh, Bill, what are we 
going to do?"


Chapter Three, Strategy

The soft warmth of her naked body sent chills all the 
way through mine.  I felt the soft mounds of her 
breasts press against me, and then realized my 
erection was reaching full power.

"When are the cleaners due back with the drapes?" I 
ask, suddenly inspired with the hope of our being 
rescued by only a few people who might see us.

"Not until next week," Nancy sobbed against my chest.  
"And I'm afraid I will be mighty hungry before then."

My eyes focused on the phone jack on the wall.  
"There's not even a phone in the house.  Oh, for the 
old days when Ma Bell owned phones, and people left 
them when they moved away."

"I left my purse in the car, so now they have it.  And 
my cell phone was in my skirt pocket, which they also 
took."

"I didn't think there was room in your skirt for a 
pocket," I teased, trying to dissuade her from crying 
any more.

"I thought you liked my skirt," she chuckled softly.  
"You sure stared at it enough."

"It was not the skirt I was looking at," I admitted.  
"I was speculating on what was in it."

"Well, now you know," she said, pulling away and 
holding her hands as far wide as our cuffs would 
allow.  "Now you can see," she forced a grin as she 
cocked her naked hips to one side seductively.  "Are 
you satisfied?"

"With you, yes.  Definitely.  You're all I ever 
dreamed you would, and more.  But these are not the 
conditions in which to enjoy you completely."

"I agree."

"You must have had quite a time when they told you to 
undress me."

"It was weird," she frowned.  "I mean, really weird.  
At first, I was afraid I might hurt you, rolling you 
around and trying to get your clothes off.  You were 
so totally out of it, and it was pretty obvious that 
you didn't have a clue what was going on."  She 
frowned again.  "Anyway, it was kind of interesting, 
wondering what I would discover under your clothes."

"I'm sure," I mumbled, wondering how I might have 
reacted had our roles been reversed.  "Now here we 
are.  Stripped and stranded.  Any ideas for what we 
should do next?"  I could not keep myself from 
laughing.

"What's so funny?" Nancy demanded.  

"Oh, I was just remembering an old movie title: 'What 
Do You Say to a Naked Lady?'"

"It must have been before my time."

"Remember Candid Camera?  I saw an interview with Alan 
Funt in which he said that all during the run of that 
television series he kept wanting to capture the 
reaction of people encountering naked ladies.  Of 
course, they couldn't broadcast anything like that, 
but near the end of his career, he finally made his 
dream into a movie.  It included a lot of very really 
funny - very naked - episodes."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Nancy muttered, unconvinced.

"One sequence involved people waiting for an elevator.  
When the car arrived and the doors opened, a naked 
lady would emerge and asked directions to one of the 
offices.  Talk about double-takes ...when the people saw 
her, a few were embarrassed, a few were angry, and a 
couple of guys simply stood there and stared."

"How do you suppose you would have reacted?"

"Well, Nancy, how did I react - I mean, when I saw you 
- you know, upstairs on the floor?"

"You tried to pretend I was still fully clothed, but 
you couldn't help staring.  Before you realized it, 
you had a massive hard-on."  She laughed, "Go on.  
Admit it."

"Why not?  How else did you expect me to react?  
You're a very beautiful lady.  With or without 
clothes."

"Thank you, Bill.  Now," she added, pulling away from 
the window, "I think we ought to get away from these 
windows before someone walks by and sees us standing 
here naked as two....  Oh!  What's the expression?  Two 
jailbirds?"

"Jaybirds.  "Naked as a jaybird" - I think that's how 
it goes.  Only right now you're right.  I feel more 
like a jailbird, locked together like we are and 
trapped in here."

"I saw a cartoon once," Nancy chuckled.  "It showed a 
lady on the front porch wearing nothing but a really 
thin night gown.  She had apparently gone outside to 
pick up the morning newspaper, but the door had shut 
behind her.  It closed on her gown.  Not only was she 
locked out, but her gown was caught so that she 
couldn't leave the door.  I thought it was funny, 
until I began trying to decide what I would have done 
in her place.  Would I take off my gown?  Or would I 
rip off the part that was stuck in the door?"

"So what did you decide?  What would you have done?"

"Well, finally, I decided the best thing to do was 
take off the gown and wrap myself in the newspaper, 
then run like crazy around the house to the back 
door."

"Good plan," Bill laughed, "but what if the back door 
was locked?"

"There's always a problem, isn't there?  Like now.  
I've been in a lot of empty houses, but never did I 
ever dream of being naked, handcuffed to a naked man, 
in a house that's as naked as we are.  Good grief!  
I'd scream if it thought it would do any good."

"What if we just walked out the door, over to the 
house next door, and asked to use the phone?"

Nancy shook her head.  "They would never let us in."  
She paused, then added, "Probably call the police."

"Come to think of it, that might not be a bad idea."

"Yeah, sure.  They would take us down to the station, 
and then what?  Remember, we don't have any ID.  We 
can't prove we have any right to be in this house.  We 
could even end up with our picture in the paper.  
Think of the headline:  'Naked couple arrested for 
breaking and entering.'"

"Wonder if they would put us in a cell together?"

"We already are, remember?"

"I know one thing, Nancy, and I'm sorry to bring this 
up."

"What's that?"

"Bathroom.  I have to pee."

"Yeah," she muttered.  "I know the feeling, but I've 
been putting off saying anything."


Chapter Four, Necessities

We walked through the kitchen and into the little 
half-bath in the mudroom.  I raised the lid.

"Well, go ahead," Nancy instructed.  "Let's get this 
over with."

I raised the seat and pointed my peter at the pot.  
After several moments, there was still no relief.

"What's wrong?" she asked, prancing about impatiently 
behind me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.  "I'm not accustomed to 
having an audience."

"Oh," she whispered back, as if mocking me, "I 
wondered if this was standard practice, or if you have 
a problem."

"No problem, just a little delay."

"You want me to hold it for you?"  She leaned around 
to look up into my eyes.  Her face was beaming as if 
about to burst into all out laughter.

"Your turn is next, remember?"

"Yes, but I plan to sit down.  That gives me a tad 
more privacy."  She paused a moment, than added, "You 
could sit down if you wanted.  Or is standing there 
with your plumbing in your hand the only real he-manly 
way to pee?"

Just then, my bladder decided it had waited long 
enough.  My prostate relaxed enough for a very 
respectable stream to spray into the stool.

"Careful," Nancy demanded.  "I don't want that stuff 
all over me."

I burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, I just remembered something I saw years ago 
penciled behind the stool in a public restroom.  It 
read, 'We aim to please.  You aim too, please."

"Very funny."

"Well, you'd never see that in a ladies' room."

"Touchè."

When my bladder was finally empty, I jiggled the last 
few drops off the end, then suddenly felt strangely 
awkward about just letting my tool drop.  I mean, 
usually when I'm done peeing, I tuck my equipment back 
into my pants, but when you're naked, what do you do?  
Just turn it loose and let it hang?  Awkwardly, I 
simply stepped off to one side out of the way, still 
holding my limp member between my fingers.  "Okay, I'm 
done," I told Nancy.  "Here, I'll put the seat down 
for you."

She frowned up at me as she lowered herself and sat on 
the stool.  Almost immediately the sound of running 
water filled the room, and she sighed deeply.  "Oh, 
that feels good."  I was amazed at how long it took 
for her to finish.  Her bladder must have been a lot 
fuller than mine.  When finally she was done, she 
reached automatically for the toilet paper.  "Look!" 
she squealed as she tore off several sheets, "We have 
paper.  Do you realize this is the first thing we have 
found in this house which is not nailed down or stuck 
in place?"

"Yeah, I can see you catching a bus across town 
wearing three sheets of toilet paper."

"Under different circumstances, Bill, I'd take that as 
an insult," Nancy laughed, "but considering how we're 
dressed right now, even three sheets would be quite 
modest.  She flushed the toilet.  "Well, now that 
we've shared these intimate moments together, I hope 
you feel as much better as I do."

So it was, feeling much relieved, we walked somewhat 
aimlessly back into the kitchen, still unsure of what 
to do next.  I mean, what can a couple do when they're 
locked in together?  With neither of them having 
anything to wear?  And no place they could go?  
Literally.

"I don't know about you," Nancy spoke softly, "but I'm 
tired.  Isn't there some place we can sit down while 
we talk about what we're going to do to get out of 
here?"

"Well, Madame," I replied in my most dapper voice, "I 
would offer you a chair, but they seem temporarily to 
be out of stock."  I looked around the living room, 
and the fireplace caught my eye.  "You're wrong about 
the toilet paper," I laughed.

"How's that?"

"You said it was the only thing not nailed down.  
Well, look at the fireplace.  The tools are still 
here."  Sure enough, the three traditional fireplace 
tools were hanging on pegs set into the bricks, the 
tongs, poker, and brush.

"Yeah, a lot of good they'll do for covering up when 
we go walking down the street."  There was no sense of 
humor in her voice.

"Well, I just thought it interesting to find something 
still here.

"The stairs," she said.  Her voice had a suddenly 
optimistic list.  "We can sit on the steps."  Indeed, 
we were standing beside the stairway.  While they were 
not the most comfortable place to sit, the did provide 
a nice way to get off our feet.  

Chapter Five, Carpet

"I'm not accustomed to standing very long in my bare 
feet," I sighed, as I settled down beside Nancy on the 
second step.

"Well, I'm not accustomed to standing around with my 
bare ass hanging out," she laughed as she nudged me 
with her shoulder.  

The touch of her skin against mine sent a fresh tingle 
through my body, which reminded me how ridiculous our 
predicament really was.  I turned to look at her and 
was suddenly aware that outside the light was fading.

"I didn't realize it was this late."

"Time really flies when you're having fun," she said 
flatly.  "Oh, look," she pointed at the picture 
window.  "The street light is coming on.  What time is 
it, anyway?"

"I have no idea.  You gave them my watch, remember?"

"Which means there's not a clock in the house.  Oh, 
the stuff we take for granted when suddenly it's all 
stripped away."

"Your choice of words, Nancy, is picturesquely vivid."

"What do you mean?"

"Stripped.  You said stripped," I reminded her.

"So we are, and now it's getting dark.  Well, at least 
I'll not have to worry about you sitting there staring 
at my naked body."

"Does that bother you - I mean my looking at you?"

"It did at first, but - well - I guess after awhile a 
person can get used to anything."  She leaned forward 
and looked back over her shoulder so she could see my 
face.  "You're not so hard to look at either."

"Thank you," I replied, being careful not to take her 
last comment as a double entendré.

For several minutes we were quiet, then Nancy said, 
"We came in here to talk about what our options are 
for dealing with this... ah, situation."  She shivered. 

"Are you cold?" I asked, "You must be." 

"A little.  Sitting with my bare bottom on these wood 
steps is not the best idea we've had."

"Well, sitting the floor might not be comfortable 
either," I suggested, "but at least that living room 
carpet should be warmer." 

"I agree."  

Together, we rose and moved to the center of the room, 
where we settled on the carpet.  Nancy stretched her 
long legs out across the floor.  I leaned toward her, 
resting on my elbow so I could survey her naked body.  
She was beautiful.  Her breasts had settled only 
slightly when she lay back, but they were still firm 
enough to retain their lovely shape.  Her stomach was 
flat, probably the result of hours working out in the 
gym.  There was only a slight curve below her belly 
button.  Below that, her thatch of dark hair covered 
the mysteries where her torso divided into those long, 
lovely legs.  I couldn't resist.  Almost 
automatically, I ran my hand down across her stomach 
and brushed my fingers through her thatch of pubic 
hair.

"Quit that!" she snapped.

"Why?" I asked.

"You can look, Bill, but don't touch," she smiled.

"I'm sure you didn't mean that," I whispered in her 
ear.  Instead of  taking my hand away, I ran my 
fingers down along the inside of her legs.

"I really mean it," she whispered back, but even while 
she spoke her legs began to spread slowly, making room 
for my hand between them.  I let my fingers descend 
further, where they caressed the folds, which were 
moist almost to the point of dripping.  

"You're beautiful," I whispered in her ear as I 
separated the folds and inserted a finger between them 
and pressed it up inside her.  She moaned slightly and 
shifted her hips, spreading her legs even farther 
apart.  I removed my finger, then replaced it with 
two.  She was so lubricated that both slipped in 
easily.  Her hips rose to receive them, as I gently 
massaged the entry.  Around and around, I moved my 
fingers, and as I did her breathing changed.  She 
leaned back against my chest and made even more room 
between her legs for me to enjoy her.  Against my 
throat, her breathing became quite heavy.

Suddenly, without warning, Nancy raised up and turned 
toward me.  Her face poised just inches above mine as 
she wrapped one long leg over mine.  Her move trapped 
my hand between her legs as she pushed me backward on 
to the carpet.  Then her mouth found mine, and I 
became so engrossed in what her tongue was doing with 
mine that it was several moments before I realized her 
free hand had become quite busy exploring my erection.

"What would you do if I told you to quit that?" I 
asked jokingly, when she came up for air and 
momentarily removed her lips from mine.

"Ignore you," she whispered, the same way you ignored 
my request.  Then she pressed her open mouth firmly 
over mine.  Her fingers never stopped, as she explored 
the length and girth of my manhood.  Then she raised 
slightly, suddenly all business, except I still had 
two fingers inside her and she still held my erection 
in her hand.  "May I ask you a question, Bill," she 
asked, looking deep into my eyes.  "A very personal 
question?"

"Right now," I assured her, "you can do anything you 
like."  I caught my breath, as she gently pinched the 
head of my penis.  "So long as it doesn't involve 
leaving here.  Or stopping what you're doing."

"That's what I want to ask you about," she continued, 
suddenly pulling away and sitting up.  She lifted my 
penis with her free hand and said, "I think this piece 
of meat is the most fantastic part of the human 
anatomy.  You probably don't realize how fortunate you 
are to have it.  Whoever conceived the idea of turning 
a woman's vagina inside out and hanging it out in 
front of a man should win the prize for the best 
invention of the millennium."  She laughed, then 
leaned down and kissed me again.  

"And your question is?" I asked.

"This skin on the end of it - I presume you were not 
circumcised - is that a problem?"  She looked right 
into my eyes with such intensity that I knew she was 
not teasing.  "Where is it most sensitive?  That's 
what I want to know."

"Under the skin," I explained.  "The foreskin covers 
the tip most of the time, protecting it, so the head 
is quite sensitive, not like the guys who were 
circumcised and the head is always exposed."

"Okay, I just wondered," she smiled.  She pulled her 
legs up under her and said, "All right, let's see if 
you're telling the truth."  With that, she rolled the 
skin down the shaft of my penis, bent her head 
quickly, and without another word she took me into her 
mouth.  Earlier, I had been surprised by her tongue's 
gymnastics inside my mouth, but that was nothing 
compared with what her tongue did around the tip of my 
erection.  I must have shuddered, for she lifted her 
head as she looked at me and asked, "Did that feel 
good?"

"On a scale of one to ten, that was fifty!" I 
exclaimed in all sincerity.

"Good, I'll do it some more, but let's see if I can 
turn around here so you can continue with what you 
were doing between my legs."  She twisted her legs and 
spread them wide apart as she lay on her side.  I 
turned toward her, and strangely enough, even with the 
handcuffs limiting our movements, we were able to 
reach each other.  My fingers went back inside her 
love canal, and my erection went back inside her mouth 
as we enveloped each other in sexual release.  

A moment later, I warned her, "I'm coming.  And we 
don't have anything to clean up the mess."  Then it 
was too late.  I exploded in her mouth, and as I did I 
realized she was taking in all I could give her, 
swallowing it all.  That only heightened the extent of 
my ejaculation, and she stayed with me until she had 
milked me dry.

"Well," she laughed when I was done, "I don't believe 
there's much left to clean up."  She looked rather 
proud of herself, and if I had been asked I would 
certainly have agreed.  Without a word, I simply 
twisted around and kissed her lips.  

"Oh, don't think you're getting off that easily," she 
laughed again.  "Now it's my turn."  She twisted 
around as far as our handcuffs would allow, lying on 
her back and thrusting her pelvis up toward me, her 
legs spread wide.  "Do me," she ordered.  "I want your 
tongue deep inside me."  For a moment, I hesitated, 
thoroughly engrossed by my intimate view of her 
swollen pussy.  "Now!" she ordered.  "Don't bother 
looking, just get your mouth down there and do me!"

Sometimes the best thing a man can do is obey.  And 
that turned out to be one of those times.  Obedience 
was no problem because she tasted really good.  I 
mean, if I could bottle her flavor, we could make 
millions.  Use it as a flavor on your pancakes, 
topping on your ice cream, or cream in your coffee.  
Think about it.  I could hear the commercials:  Let 
Nancy's Bottom Be Your Topping!  Sucking her pussy 
certainly topped off my day, almost as nice as what 
she had just done for me, which I appreciated so much 
that I did my best to satisfy her.

She responded in kind.  I mean, she really put herself 
into it, sometimes flailing about until several times 
she jerked my wrist which was still handcuffed to her 
arm.  Finally I caught her hand, entwined our fingers, 
and held on tight.  In fact, I decided to maintain 
that grasp later on, since my wrist was beginning to 
hurt from repeated tugs.  She brought me back to the 
present as she thrust her pelvis hard into my face, 
forcing my tongue farther in between her folds, then 
deep inside her slit.  Using my lips, I molded her 
folds, separated them, thrust in deep between them.  
By then her clit had risen to the occasion, and I 
chewed lightly on it with my teeth.  She screamed, 
loud and long.  Thinking I was being too rough, I 
pulled away.

"Don't stop!" she demanded breathlessly.  "Keep going.  
Do me.  Don't quit.  Do me.  Do me...," she repeated as 
her voice trailed off into meaningless moans.  Her 
body trembled and shook as she thrust up even harder 
against my face.  I rubbed my nose against her pubic 
bone, while using my tongue to give her clit as much 
attention as I could.  Then I almost drowned as she 
spurted a flood of fluids onto my face.  "Oh! Oh! Oh!" 
she cried as she convulsed in repeated spasms of 
obvious joy.  Catching my face between her hands, she 
pulled me up for an intimate kiss.  Her lips caught 
mine for only a second, then continued to kiss me all 
over my face as she tasted the flavor of her own 
passion and tried to retrieve it, perhaps relive it, 
all the while using her lips to thank me silently.

The result was that my own passion recuperated, and I 
could feel my erection moving against her still-
gyrating pelvis.  Nancy must have realized what had 
happened and her free hand became my guide to enter 
her.  She was still thrusting with her continued 
orgasm, but I quickly caught up and matched her 
rhythm, even though I had to press hard against her to 
keep my penis from being ejected by her erratic 
bouncing.  What a ride she gave me!  It was better 
than Gilley's mechanical bull.  It was the ultimate 
screw, obviously induced by our afternoon of naked 
captivity, and likely never to be repeated with such 
intensity.  Regrettably.  Let me tell you, those few 
minutes were fantastic!  She was fantastic.  And oh, 
how she could screw!

Eventually, we both simply collapsed amidst heavy 
breathing, totally and completely sated sexually.  I 
rolled over on to the carpet, where we lay side by 
side, stretched out spread-eagle, totally spent.  So 
much for our professional attitude toward one another.

"Wow!" was all I could say.  

She gasped a couple of times, then echoed, "Ditto."

I don't remember quite what happened after that, 
because the next thing I remember was waking up, still 
lying on the carpet.  The house was dark except for a 
few rays of light from the street lamp outside which 
shone through the window.  Nancy was still asleep.  I 
needed to use the bathroom again, but I didn't want to 
wake her.  At least, not yet.  So I raised myself 
slowly on one elbow.  In the dim light reflecting off 
the wall, I could see Nancy's naked body.  Looking at 
her brought back memories of our sexual encounter.  
Apparently my body remembered too, for my erection 
immediately rose to the occasion.  I was ever so 
tempted to roll back on top of her and pick where we 
left off, but good sense and a few good manners 
restrained me.  

Instead, I simply continued to look.  Nancy, I 
thought, you are one hot lady.  Not only are you 
lovely to look at, but you're a terrific lay.


Chapter Six, Visitors

Her breathing remained steady as I lay there watching 
her sleep.  Relaxed as she was, her nipples had 
softened and blended in with her large areolas.  I had 
the urge to tweak them and see if they would harden 
and stand up, but again I refrained, for fear my touch 
would wake her.

Eventually, I tired and lay back down, deciding my 
bladder could contain my need for the bathroom for 
awhile longer.  At least for now.  When I woke again, 
the room was light and the sun was shining in through 
the window.  

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Nancy purred beside me.  
"I wondered if you were going to sleep all day."  She 
was propped up on one elbow, leaning over me much the 
way I had observed her earlier during the night.  

"Good morning," I tried to smile, trying to focus in 
the glare of the sunlight.

"Did you know," she asked with a broad smile, "that 
you get a really big hard-on while you sleep?"  She 
reached down and grasped my erect rod with her free 
hand and gave it a couple of squeezes.

"Please don't do that," I protested, "or I may pee all 
over you."

"No, you won't," she argued.  "Men can't pee through 
an erection."  She leaned over and kissed me gently on 
the lips.  I felt myself respond warmly.  "And I don't 
think your hard-on is going down very soon, at least 
not if I can help it."  Her naughty little laugh told 
me I was in for more of our previous night's intimacy. 

Just then there was a rattle at the door.

"Someone's here!" Nancy exclaimed, suddenly sitting 
upright.

I raised up just enough to see out the window.  On the 
street there was a man lifting a box out of the trunk 
of a car.  "Are those the men who were here 
yesterday?" I asked.

Nancy twisted and raised up so she could see.  "No, I 
never saw that man before, but it's the same car I saw 
yesterday when I arrived."

The door rattled again, and I realized whoever was 
there had trouble unlocking it.  I remembered how it 
had been difficult for Nancy to open the previous day.  
"Come on," I whispered.  "We can't just wait here and 
let them find us."  Quietly we stood up, staying close 
to the wall so as not to be visible through the 
window.

"Where?" Nancy asked.  "There's no place in here to 
hide."

"The kitchen.  Then if need to leave in a hurry we can 
go out through the mud room."  We slid along the wall 
toward the kitchen door.  On impulse, as we passed the 
fireplace, I grabbed the poker.  It was over two feet 
long with a large, solid brass handle.  "Could come in 
handy," I whispered when Nancy looked at me 
questioningly.  

Inside the kitchen door, we stepped behind the wall so 
that we were out of sight of the front door.  We 
barely made it before the door opened.

"Careful," I heard one of the men say as they entered.  
"Beano said he left two people in here yesterday."

"They're long gone by now," another voice said.

"Maybe," the first man cautioned.  "He left them 
chained together totally naked."

"I bet that was fun," the second man replied as I 
heard the door close.  "Is there a table around here 
somewhere we can use to cut this stuff?"

"No, Beano said they used a room upstairs.  We better 
not work here in front of the window."

"I'll check the kitchen," one of them said.  "You look 
upstairs.  Then we'll decide."

A moment later, I heard footsteps on the stairs.  
Beside me, Nancy shuddered, then moved behind me.  I 
was nearer the door.  I shifted the poker in my hand, 
holding it by the business end.  When the man came 
through the door, I swung the poker hard.  The heavy 
brass handle hit him behind the ear, and he collapsed 
noiselessly to the floor.

"Quick, let's move him out of sight," I instructed.  
Together, we dragged the unconscious man into the mud 
room.  Hardly had we closed the door when I heard 
footsteps coming down the stairs.  We moved back 
behind the wall where we had been before, and I 
retrieved the fireplace poker.

"We might as well work down here," the man said as he 
came down the steps.  "Is the kitchen all right?"  
There was a pause.  "Bill?"

The footsteps stopped just outside the kitchen door.  
I was sure he was looking in, probably puzzled at not 
seeing anyone.  Nancy must have deduced the same 
thing, for she took matters into her own hands.  
Without a word, she stepped as far to my left as our 
chain would allow, then moved out to where the man 
could see her.  Not only was she totally naked, but 
she smiled a warm greeting to the man.

"Holy crap!" the man exploded.  "Bill, did you see 
this?" he asked as he hurried forward into the room.  
He never took his eyes off Nancy, until I hit him with 
the poker.  

For several moments we simply stood looking down at 
him, as he sprawled across the kitchen floor.  Then 
Nancy asked, "You suppose either of these guys has a 
key to these handcuffs?"

"I don't know about that," I replied, "but I think 
we'll be a lot more decent going outside if we dress 
ourselves in their clothes."

She agreed, and we went to work undressing the men.  
We worked quickly, unsure of how soon they might 
regain consciousness.  I dressed in the larger man's 
pants, while Nancy pulled on those of the smaller man.  
Our handcuffs prevented our getting into the shirts, 
so we decided on the coats instead.  Nancy solved the 
problem by putting only one arm in the coat sleeve.  
"Here," she instructed, "zip me up, please."  

We repeated the process for me, which worked 
awkwardly, but then we realized the coats prevented us 
from raise our manacled hands.  In the coat pocket, I 
found a set of car keys.  "Well, now we have wheels.  
They took our cars, so I think it's fair to return the 
favor."

Nancy was not listening.  Instead, she was inspecting 
how she was dressed.  "Do I ever feel ridiculous!" she 
exclaimed.  Indeed, the clothes hung loose on her as 
if she were dressed to be a scarecrow.  Then she 
quickly added, "But at least I'm decent." 

"Disappointingly so," I told her.  "I liked you better 
the way you were before."

She stuck out our tongue at me, then complained, 
"Let's get out of here before they wake up."

"Fine with me," I agreed, "but you'll have to drive."  
I held out keys I had found.

"Me?" she queried.

"My left hand is cuffed to you.  remember?  So if I 
get behind the wheel, where will you sit?"  

"I get the point," she laughed.

Outside, Nancy climbed in through the passenger side 
door, and I followed.  The keys fit, and the car ran 
smoothly.  Within a few minutes we were well away from 
the house of our captivity.

"Please pardon the old cliché, Nancy, but your place 
or mine?" 

"They took my keys," Nancy exclaimed, pounding the 
steering wheel in frustration.  "So I have no way to 
get into my apartment."

"Then it's my place.  I have a key hidden in the 
yard."  I gave directions, and it was with 
considerable relief a little while later that she 
pulled the car into my driveway.

"What a relief," Nancy exclaimed.  "We're free at 
last."

"Almost," I reminded her as I tugged at her wrist.  
She slid back across the seat and followed me as I 
climbed out of the car.  

"I hope you have something here to cut off these 
handcuffs," she told me hopefully as we crossed the 
lawn to where I had hidden my extra house key.

"We'll think of something," I promised while 
retrieving my spare house key.  Once we were inside, 
it was my turn to heave a heavy sigh of relief.  

"You know what?" Nancy asked.  "In all the excitement, 
I forgot that my bladder's about to burst.  Do you 
have a bathroom here?"

"That I do, Nancy.  That I do."  And even though we 
had escaped from the house and from our captors, we 
were still bound together, which forced us once again 
to share the intimacies of bathroom duty.  This time, 
she started to go first, but the coats zipped over our 
connected arms prevented her from sitting down.  "I 
guess we really need to take these off," she 
suggested.

We unzipped each other's coats and removed them.  When 
her breasts came back in view, I was somewhat thankful 
for the handcuffs.  "I like you dressed that way," I 
told her politely.

She made a face at me, then lowered her oversized 
pants and sat on the stool, where she quickly relieved 
herself.  When she moved out of the way, I raised the 
seat and unzipped my pants.  Once again, my bladder 
was slow to release its load.

Nancy waited patiently, watching me closely until I 
was finally finished.  Then she asked, "Don't you ever 
wipe yourself?"

"Never thought of it," I confessed.  "You think I 
should?"

"Suit yourself.  I just wondered."  She shuddered.  "I 
don't know when I've felt this grimy.  I guess all the 
dirt that normally collects on clothes has settled on 
my skin."

"You're saying you'd like to take a shower?" I 
suggested.

"Do you mind?"  Her smile was more than suggestive; in 
fact, it was an open promise.

I led the way to the upstairs bathroom, where we 
quickly discarded the outsized trousers.  Once again 
we were totally naked.  I turned on the water and 
adjusted the temperature.  Then we stepped together 
into the shower.  We both reached for the soap at the 
same time.

"Okay," I offered, "you take the soap, and I'll use 
the shampoo."

"That's fair.  If you'll wash my hair, I will wash 
your back with the soap."

"Only my back?" I asked.

"I thought you'd never ask," she laughed, and with 
that she began rubbing soap all over my erection.  
Then stroking it between her hands, she leaned up and 
kissed me as she said, "Now it's your turn to shampoo 
my hair."  After saying that she dropped to her knees 
and pulled my erection deep into her mouth.  I obeyed 
her instruction and shampooed her hair, trying to be 
careful not to get the suds on her face, but that 
became impossible as she bobbed her head up and down.  
She seemed to sense that I was near climax when, just 
as quickly as she had begun, she stood, put her arms 
around my neck, planted her mouth over mine as she 
lifted herself and spread her legs.  I slid easily 
inside her, and we braced against the shower wall as 
we thrust together.  She came quickly, far more 
readily than I expected.  A few moments later, I 
nearly collapsed to the bottom of the shower stall.

"I'm famished," Nancy exclaimed.  "Can we eat, then 
come back and finish this shower?"

I agreed.  So we dried off and retreated to the 
kitchen without bothering to dress.  Somehow, after 
all the time we had spent together naked, it seemed 
only natural.  I laughed. 

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"Oh, I was just thinking how natural it seems for us 
to be au naturel."

"Cute," she said.  After a moment, she continued.  
"What really concerns me is the fact that those guys 
who took our clothes also have all our identification.  
They could be passing themselves off as us right now."

"I know," I agreed.  "I'm often concerned about ID 
theft."  We raided the refrigerator, laying out a 
collection of cold cuts, cheese, and a loaf of bread.  
Then it struck me.  "Did you say that's the same car 
the guys had yesterday who took our clothes?"

"I'm certain," she replied.  "Why?"

"We didn't check the trunk."  

Wide-eyed, she grabbed a coat and threw it over her 
shoulders.  It was long enough to cover most of her 
bottom.  She paused a moment, while I pulled on the 
pants I had worn previously, then she shrugged, 
grabbed the car keys, and together we ran outside.  
Sure enough, there in the trunk were our clothes, 
wadded together and piled in a corner.  Nancy's purse 
was there, and my wallet was still in my pants pocket.

She was ecstatic.  I must admit that I was likewise 
greatly pleased.  And relieved.  "Oh, we can finally 
get back to normal," Nancy cooed as we headed back 
into the house carrying our clothes.

 "This is nice," I tell her, "but how do you put on 
these regular clothes?  We still have these stupid 
handcuffs to deal with."

"That should be no problem," she grinned sheepishly as 
we stacked the clothing in a pile on my kitchen table.  
She was still wearing the coat taken from the man at 
the house, and from a pocket she withdrew a key ring.  
"Here's my realtor key to that house I'm supposed to 
be selling.  It was in his coat pocket."  She jingled 
the keys and smiled.  "And there's an extra key on the 
ring," she held it up.  "This one is not mine.  Do you 
suppose it just might be the key to these cuffs?"

"And you had this key all the time?" 

"Of course not.  I found it when we undressed those 
guys."

"You mean we could have taken off these cuffs back 
then?  Over at the other house.  Right?"

"I guess we could," she admitted.  "If we had really 
wanted to...."

Suddenly, I was more than frustrated with her.  I was 
irate.  "Why, Nancy?  Why?"

"Now, Bill," she smiled with a lop-sided grin.  "Why 
would I want to do that?  It would only have spoiled 
our fun."  

With that, she dropped the key ring on the table, 
slipped off the coat and let it fall to the floor.  
Then she turned to me and shook her shoulders 
seductively, causing her beautiful breasts to roll and 
sway seductively.  "Now, are we going to get something 
to eat?  Or is there something else you'd rather do?"

The Beginning

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The Realtor (all chapters)