CHAPTER 57 — A NICE SURPRISE
Nguyet asked me last Monday short and crisp—using her full name again from her office email—if I was interested in another meeting with her. We had role-played that I was interested in the cookie-cutter houses her company was selling, and the first house viewing—our last role-play—had turned into a two-hour-long ribald rumpus, at the end of which she had told me that she was earning some extra money working as an escort.
Well, my lovely young niece Giang, who I started spending time with as her mother was concerned about her voracious sexual appetite, had written to me again, too. She wanted me to take her to the new mall once more to buy some new bras. The ones she had were either getting too tight or ill-fitting anyway, but she couldn’t raise such sensitive matters with her mom. Of course, we would end up at her or my place and celebrate the new underwear in an appropriate fashion.
Frankly, right now, I preferred buying new bras with my 19-year-old niece to doing another role-play with Nguyet. But I didn’t want to lose momentum with her either. Giang had told me that she had engaged in some sexual play with the young, skinny ladyboy from Laos, but she must have been ovulating during that week, I thought. I became worried and promised myself to explain the menstruation cycle to Giang, so that she wouldn’t suddenly get pregnant. So far, though, they seemed to have only done hand- and blowjobs.
So I wrote Ms. Nguyen Thi Lan Nguyet, my real estate escort affair, that, yes, I was interested in meeting her again. What I didn’t understand was why we couldn’t just meet as Nguyet and Ben, as we had successfully done so many times. But I didn’t want to ask her; perhaps she had an idea for an awesome role-play for which she needed the anonymity of strangers. As few days later, she wrote back that we’d better wait a few more days, for ‚biological reasons’, as she put it. But she also inquired about my sexual predilections a bit more and told me the price for two hours, just as one would expect from an escort girl. It was bold, though, that she used her office email for that.
Anyway, yesterday morning, around 10, I went into town to get new reading glasses. While I was waiting after the eye-exam until the new glasses would be cut, I went outside the shop to smoke. Suddenly, I saw Nguyet come out of a side street with another man. Jealousy stabbed me like a dagger. They hadn’t seen me yet, and I watched them from the corner of my eye. Did she have an affair with him? The man was about her age, early thirties, tall and handsome. He reminded me of our neighbor.
Well, on the other hand, Nguyet was probably just showing him houses, as that was her job. They were downtown, and it was ten-thirty in the morning on a weekday—hardly the way or time to conduct an affair. Now, they had seen me and Nguyet actually introduced us. She remained very formal and explained that they were, yes, looking at houses. In passing, she invited me to join them. I agreed but asked them to wait another five minutes so that I could get my glasses before we would take off. Nguyet, in turn, explained that to the gentleman, who nodded and lit a cigarette as well.
In the meantime, my glasses were ready to be picked up, I paid, and then joined the two again. Nguyet told me where we were going next, and we got on our motorcycles. Nguyet was wearing her navy-blue business suit again, as was probably standard for any workday, unless a long, traditional dress was called for. As far as I knew, she liked blue anyway. And the red breast kerchief added a nice touch again, just as her black high-heels. Only her stockings were different today: skin-toned, instead of black. Of course, she looked spiffy; pretty much like every day.
Nguyet had atakent escort already said that the next house would be the last in their round this morning, and so I began to ask myself what our options were. We could go and have lunch and then spend a sensual hour at her model home. Or a hotel? Although: the model home was actually ideal. Or Nguyet didn’t have time. Or, perhaps, she didn’t want sex, for a change? Unlikely.
As I didn’t know if the other man spoke English, I just laid low and looked at the house with him like I was another potential buyer. Nguyet wasn’t flirting either, but my presence seemed to boost her self-esteem and confidence. She had unbuttoned her jacket, and the way she was standing now, with one hand on her hip, the one breast I was able to see looked nicely prominent.
To make the whole thing more authentic, I really got into the house-buying project. I was looking and listening intently and even asked questions in Vietnamese. I was able to follow most things that Nguyet said, and I also understood the price, which the other dude immediately negotiated down a little.
Now, Nguyet went upstairs with us, and I admired her little plump butt under her skirt. I remembered the sensual hours about three weeks earlier at the model home where she worked, and my dick started to pump itself up. Nguyet’s legs had the perfect shape, and she seemed to have shaved them recently, as I wasn’t able to make out any hair on her shins.
The other guy didn’t seem to be interested in her as a woman. He was probably married, and my former boss had told me many years ago that Nguyet wasn’t attractive by Vietnamese standards. Oh, well. Whatever. I realized that I had absolutely no reason to be jealous, which was good. I wanted to touch her but couldn’t, here in the empty old house. I didn’t want to embarrass her in front of the other customer; Nguyet would certainly have half-an-hour later, after the viewing, wouldn’t she?
The longer I looked at the man, however, the more he reminded me of our neighbor, who was an officer. He always looked sharp and spiffy in his uniform. He didn’t say much but seemed easy-going and a good father for his two little daughters. And, sure, a good husband, too. Apropos: His wife was an absolute sweetheart, a ray of sunshine. Linh, so her name, had charmed me with her smile right from the beginning. Over time, I had also learned to love her roundish knees and calves, which came into their own under her lovely flowery dresses. Linh’s breasts were tiny but, otherwise, she had an awesome figure.
I woke up from my reveries when Nguyet nudged me, asking if I had any more questions regarding the house. Slightly puzzled, I shook my head, and as the other man was done, we went downstairs again. Nguyet had prepared some documents, which she passed onto him. We said goodbye and waited until he had driven off. Nguyet closed the screeching metal door, and we were finally alone inside.
“Do you like the house?” she asked, sticking to her role as realtor.
“It’s alright. I like older homes …” I only said. “Ms. Nguyet, do you want to go for lunch?” I changed the topic.
I didn’t want to be too direct, but still propel the dynamic forward. For some reason, though, I didn’t feel like enacting the complete escort role-play that we were planning at that moment.
“Are you hungry already?” she asked back. “Let’s go upstairs for a minute,” she suggested instead. “I wanna show you something.”
That sure sounded enticing.
“Ok, but I need to use the restroom first,” I insisted truthfully.
It didn’t look like we were going to do any pissing games here at the old house, though.
“You can go upstairs,” Nguyet said and turned towards akbatı escort the stairs.
On the way up, I touched her butt briefly, which didn’t get me more than a lukewarm smile. When I tried to grab her hand, she flinched and went straight over to the window, where she pushed a shutter five inches open to let in some light. In the meantime, I went to the bathroom and tried to make plans again. What could we do?
When I got back to the room, however, that was a moot question, as Nguyet was leaning onto the wall next to the window with her blouse unbuttoned. As she wasn’t wearing a bra, she had pulled her undershirt down to expose her breasts, which were squeezed nicely by the fabric from underneath. Her medium-sized brown nipples looked awesome.
Her pantyhose was down almost to her knees, while her panties were just above, about half way down her thighs. The most awesome detail of how she was exposing herself was, of course, her dense black bush, which was nicely framed by her light legs, hips, and belly. She was holding up her skirt with one hand, while the other was next to her pubic triangle, pointing at it like a shop assistant or a museum guide would draw attention to a particularly enticing item or detail.
She seemed lost in thought at first, like she was alone, but then she looked at me as I was approaching her. My arousal washed all over me and was so intense that I almost puked. What a sight to behold in this empty house here! Nguyet had managed to bring my horniness from 40 to 100 in a few seconds with her hitherto unknown, titillating pose. As much as I wanted to touch and kiss her, though, I paused five feet away from her to soak in more of her beauty. She looked like a total work of art that reconciled the sensual, natural side of a woman with her cultural, cultivated one. Nguyet was, right at that moment, not only the embodiment of the tension between nature and culture but also the sublation of it.
It almost looked like she had trimmed her bush somewhat, as I was able to make out the upper half of her outer labia. But as if she wasn’t happy with that, she crossed one leg in front of the other now. The white flesh under the waistband of her skirt was heaving, and I admired once more how her dense pitch-black curls were framed by her belly, hips, and thighs. The smell of her bush must have been absolutely beguiling at that moment.
Not to remain in second place, I took off my pants and underpants together and let both drop onto the wooden floor boards. I unbuttoned my shirt, too, and stepped towards her with my half-erect dick.
She said with a relatively deep and lascivious voice: “Mister Ben, I’ll jerk you off quickly, before we go for lunch.”
A word and a blow. Or a jerk. She reached between her labia to get some lubrication, which she then spread on my glans. She pushed my foreskin down towards me and looked at my dick for a few seconds like she had never seen it before. When I touched her labia gently, she flinched again and said indignantly:
“Mister Ben! You can LOOK at everything, but not more.”
It sounded almost ominous and reminded me of Poe’s ‘Never more!’, which was a nice touch. I didn’t think Nguyet was familiar with The Raven, though. Anyway, in her voice I could hear the seriousness of a beautiful and successful property agent who was used to calling the shots. She was going to determine who was going to do what with whom and when.
But what she did was sure tantalizing. I was standing more or less naked in front of her, and she was jacking me off. She seemed to have nectar galore, as she reached inside her pussy once more to pump more oil for the job. She seemed super focused, the way she was biting the tip of her aksaray escort tongue, looking at my cock. I suspected that she was ovulating; I tried to calculate her cycle in my head but couldn’t. Anyway, she was smart and almost 33. She knew what she was doing. And we didn’t really have any furniture to sit on anyway, so, considering the circumstances, we did the best we could.
Soon, I felt my glans itch. She smeared another two tea spoons of morning dew on the purple, pulsating tip of my cock, when I looked down on her again. I didn’t really know what it was, but the sheer moxie to expose herself like that was admirable, even though we had known each other for a long time. Initially, she had reduced herself to her pubic region, but then taken the wheel and decided how far we would go today. It was like she had first given up all her power by exposing herself, pretending I could use her, before she grabbed all control and command again. I tried again to kiss her, at least—if she didn’t want me to touch her or take my dick in her mouth—but she resisted charmingly and fended me off once more.
“Mister Ben, I can’t let my clients kiss me. I’m sorry,” she said quietly but determinedly, looking down at her work.
She was strict like a schoolmarm but also generous, if not magnanimous—the way she was loading my glans again with the most precious of all fluids in the world. Obviously, she was horny as fuck, as her body was producing copious amounts of thick, translucent lubrication. Even her nipples had gotten stiff, just from jerking me off, without any more touches, kisses, or tender caresses. I kept thinking about what to say or do, but perhaps today there wasn’t anything for me to do or say. And so I just held onto her slightly bony hips and enjoyed the breathtaking beauty here in front of me, who spread and then rubbed more and more of her frothy libation onto my thirsty glans.
Well, in a second I would come. But where? Perhaps in her mouth, as this was the most obvious option. She, obviously, couldn’t soil her business suit. Neither could she let me come on her hair or face, even though the sheer idea of which gave my body another jolt. But I didn’t just want to come on the floor like a horny dog, here in the house that didn’t belong to either of us.
“Ben, you say something when you’re about to come, huh?” she requested, just in time.
One minute later, I grabbed her wrist tenderly. She pulled my glans closer to her pubic mound and then distributed the splashes evenly in her curly, dense hair. I could feel her curls on my glans now. I’m still not sure what it was, but the sheer audacity to soil her pubic hair with my load of cum turned this little sex-play into one of the hottest encounters of my life. It was hard to beat. I was a little worried about her cycle, as the sperm could still enter her vagina that way, but perhaps I was wrong and she wasn’t ovulating that week.
When she felt that my load was about to finish, she rubbed my cock in her soft pubic curls, like she wanted to clean my dick or like she was painting-by-numbers. Then she pushed me away, like she had received what she had come here for and didn’t need me anymore. At least, she deigned me another long look at her gorgeous body, posture, and wet, sticky bush, in which she even rubbed the cum now with her fingers. I got dressed watching her, before she finally let the curtain drop and pulled up both, her panties and her pantyhose.
Her titties were dangling as she was doing so, bent over forward. After pulling up her undershirt and closing her blouse, she looked spick and span again, like a proper real estate agent. She went to the bathroom to wash her hands, and when she was shaking the water off her elegant fingers, I looked at her crotch where—behind three layers of fabric—my cum was now fermenting in her gorgeous pubic triangle. I was curious if she was going to take a shower at work or if she wanted to spend the whole afternoon in her office with sugar and protein in her bush. I’d asked her next time. Quietly, we went outside and got on our motorcycles without having discussed lunch once more.