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04 Ağustos 2023, 23:08
This is an erotic episode from a much longer story that I am working on. It stands alone, so I am posting it here for your pleasure - I hope.
***
I was working as an estate agent then. It was my friend's business. I hadn't been able to get a job since university and as my friend Alan said, I was a good chatup merchant so selling houses should be a doddle. It was too, and I enjoyed the work especially with the fringe benefits from hot little stay at home mums.
I spent my days measuring up houses, conducting viewings. I got to know the local market quite well and as my willingness to help out in other areas became known, business boomed. By helping out in other areas of course I mean screwing the yummy mummies while their husbands tried to get into the knickers of some teenage bimbo at work. They were usually very grateful. I was often the only relief from kids and hubbies drunken fumbles on a Saturday night.
Slowly my reputation grew as grateful mums told their friends and I started getting calls to sell houses that somehow never turned into actual commissions. I would be met by the lady of the house in some skimpy little number, offered coffee or a drink and then shown around the house. We always seemed to end up in the master bedroom, where she would have briefly disappeared while I measured up another room. Walking in, I would inevitably find her reclining in not very much across the king size. It's very difficult to turn down that sort of offer, even if you want to and usually I didn't want to. Why should I? I was 22, with no commitments and a queue of hot women ready to drop their knickers at every opportunity.
It really started getting interesting when I was about 23, almost 35 years ago now. I was sitting as usual on a Friday night in the bar of the Royal Hotel when I spotted her. She was blonde, not natural but done well, smart sexy clothes without going over the top, very good legs, expensive shoes. She looked about 40. She was sitting with a much younger bloke, probably only about 20. At first I had him clocked as a toy boy, but then I realised from the miserable face and attitude he had to be a son.
The place was crowded with the usual mixture of teenagers on their way somewhere else, lost tourists, and the regulars with nowhere else to go. Suddenly a place opened up at her table as a couple of tourists left. I grabbed my drink and made the most of the chance.
"Anyone sitting here?" I asked.
She shook her head while Sonny Jim glowered at me. I expect he was used to men locking onto her. Close to, she was older than she at first appeared, perhaps 45. What usually gives a women's age away are her hands and neck. Her neck was very nuzzle worthy - smooth and tanned, sliding down to a very nice bit of cleavage. Her hands were the give away -- slightly wrinkled compared to the rest of her, but with immaculate nails. All in all though a very nice package, certainly worth putting in a bit of effort on my part.
She saw me looking at her hands and spread them appreciatively.
"I own a beauty salon," she said "and I had my nails done before we came away. A women's hands always age first and I like to look after mine."
"Aha" I thought, "this one is vain" Always a good sign that. Women who are vain are more likely to believe you when you tell them nice things about their appearance and that way they start to believe you about everything else later. This looked promising; perhaps it wouldn't be a dry weekend after all.
"You said 'came away'. Are you on holiday then?"
"No, unfortunately, we are here for a funeral"
"Dammit," I thought. "Not much chance here then. Still -- persevere."
"A close relative?" I inquired, trying to sound solicitous and not too smarmy.
"Oh no -- my great-uncle. But Joe and I are, well were, his only relatives."
"So have you much to do with the estate? I know that can be a real bind."
"Well we have to sell his house and he had a business."
I perked up at that. Not only an attractive blonde, but also the chance of making a few bob in commissions. I pulled out a business card and handed it to her.
"I might be able to help you there," I said, trying not to sound too eager -- times are hard for us estate agents. "Why don't you give me a call tomorrow morning." I took back the card and wrote my mobile number on it. "Use that number -- anytime in fact."
I pointed to my name on the card "I'm Freeman Jones."
"So who are Carter and Carter?" she said.
"They have long gone. A friend of mine owns the business and I'm helping him out. Carter and Carter is an old business so it seemed best to keep the name in a small town like this."
Little Master Sunshine was still glowering at me, but I don't think it was anything I had said. He just looked a miserable sod, so I ignored him.
"Who was your uncle?" I inquired. "This is a small town, I know most businesses."
"He was called Henderson," she replied, "Allen Henderson."
God, I almost came on the spot. Henderson Engineering had been a big employer before the Kahramanlar Escort (https://www.pompaci.net/izmir/kahramanlar) war, but had gradually declined. The prize though was the site -- almost 3 acres of prime land just off the High Street and another 5 acres or so on the edge of town.
She must have seen my face, because she smiled slightly.
"Did you know him?"
"I knew of him," I said. "Henderson Engineering was an important business here for years. I think you will do very well with those sites."
"Oh good," she said. "I didn't really know where to start"
"Can I buy you and your son a drink?" I asked. I didn't think the miserable faced tyke deserved one, but if it kept his mum happy.
"Joe isn't my son," she simpered, "he's my grandson."
"I can't believe that," I said, which was partly true, but merely made me up my estimate of her age. She must be at least 50. It didn't stop me wondering if I would get to fuck her tonight.
"Do you want a drink, Joe?" I said, on my smoothest behaviour.
"Nah," he grunted. "I think I'll try the club in the back, if that's OK, Gran?"
She ruffled his hair. "That's fine Joe, just take care and please don't get too drunk." She laughed. "I suppose that's probably too much to expect of someone your age. I was a bit of a hellion when I was your age, and so was your mum; that's why I'm a granny now."
He stood up and slouched off towards the rear of the bar, where the club entrance was. I expected his chances of getting laid to be 50:50. The local girls always jumped a new face in town, but he was so bloody surly. Maybe when some young Tracy had his cock in her mouth it wouldn't matter so much.
I turned to Granny. "What about you?" I asked solicitously.
"I thought he'd never get off his arse," she muttered, and then to me "I'll have a large gin and tonic please."
I obediently trotted off to the bar and was rapidly back with her G
***
I was working as an estate agent then. It was my friend's business. I hadn't been able to get a job since university and as my friend Alan said, I was a good chatup merchant so selling houses should be a doddle. It was too, and I enjoyed the work especially with the fringe benefits from hot little stay at home mums.
I spent my days measuring up houses, conducting viewings. I got to know the local market quite well and as my willingness to help out in other areas became known, business boomed. By helping out in other areas of course I mean screwing the yummy mummies while their husbands tried to get into the knickers of some teenage bimbo at work. They were usually very grateful. I was often the only relief from kids and hubbies drunken fumbles on a Saturday night.
Slowly my reputation grew as grateful mums told their friends and I started getting calls to sell houses that somehow never turned into actual commissions. I would be met by the lady of the house in some skimpy little number, offered coffee or a drink and then shown around the house. We always seemed to end up in the master bedroom, where she would have briefly disappeared while I measured up another room. Walking in, I would inevitably find her reclining in not very much across the king size. It's very difficult to turn down that sort of offer, even if you want to and usually I didn't want to. Why should I? I was 22, with no commitments and a queue of hot women ready to drop their knickers at every opportunity.
It really started getting interesting when I was about 23, almost 35 years ago now. I was sitting as usual on a Friday night in the bar of the Royal Hotel when I spotted her. She was blonde, not natural but done well, smart sexy clothes without going over the top, very good legs, expensive shoes. She looked about 40. She was sitting with a much younger bloke, probably only about 20. At first I had him clocked as a toy boy, but then I realised from the miserable face and attitude he had to be a son.
The place was crowded with the usual mixture of teenagers on their way somewhere else, lost tourists, and the regulars with nowhere else to go. Suddenly a place opened up at her table as a couple of tourists left. I grabbed my drink and made the most of the chance.
"Anyone sitting here?" I asked.
She shook her head while Sonny Jim glowered at me. I expect he was used to men locking onto her. Close to, she was older than she at first appeared, perhaps 45. What usually gives a women's age away are her hands and neck. Her neck was very nuzzle worthy - smooth and tanned, sliding down to a very nice bit of cleavage. Her hands were the give away -- slightly wrinkled compared to the rest of her, but with immaculate nails. All in all though a very nice package, certainly worth putting in a bit of effort on my part.
She saw me looking at her hands and spread them appreciatively.
"I own a beauty salon," she said "and I had my nails done before we came away. A women's hands always age first and I like to look after mine."
"Aha" I thought, "this one is vain" Always a good sign that. Women who are vain are more likely to believe you when you tell them nice things about their appearance and that way they start to believe you about everything else later. This looked promising; perhaps it wouldn't be a dry weekend after all.
"You said 'came away'. Are you on holiday then?"
"No, unfortunately, we are here for a funeral"
"Dammit," I thought. "Not much chance here then. Still -- persevere."
"A close relative?" I inquired, trying to sound solicitous and not too smarmy.
"Oh no -- my great-uncle. But Joe and I are, well were, his only relatives."
"So have you much to do with the estate? I know that can be a real bind."
"Well we have to sell his house and he had a business."
I perked up at that. Not only an attractive blonde, but also the chance of making a few bob in commissions. I pulled out a business card and handed it to her.
"I might be able to help you there," I said, trying not to sound too eager -- times are hard for us estate agents. "Why don't you give me a call tomorrow morning." I took back the card and wrote my mobile number on it. "Use that number -- anytime in fact."
I pointed to my name on the card "I'm Freeman Jones."
"So who are Carter and Carter?" she said.
"They have long gone. A friend of mine owns the business and I'm helping him out. Carter and Carter is an old business so it seemed best to keep the name in a small town like this."
Little Master Sunshine was still glowering at me, but I don't think it was anything I had said. He just looked a miserable sod, so I ignored him.
"Who was your uncle?" I inquired. "This is a small town, I know most businesses."
"He was called Henderson," she replied, "Allen Henderson."
God, I almost came on the spot. Henderson Engineering had been a big employer before the Kahramanlar Escort (https://www.pompaci.net/izmir/kahramanlar) war, but had gradually declined. The prize though was the site -- almost 3 acres of prime land just off the High Street and another 5 acres or so on the edge of town.
She must have seen my face, because she smiled slightly.
"Did you know him?"
"I knew of him," I said. "Henderson Engineering was an important business here for years. I think you will do very well with those sites."
"Oh good," she said. "I didn't really know where to start"
"Can I buy you and your son a drink?" I asked. I didn't think the miserable faced tyke deserved one, but if it kept his mum happy.
"Joe isn't my son," she simpered, "he's my grandson."
"I can't believe that," I said, which was partly true, but merely made me up my estimate of her age. She must be at least 50. It didn't stop me wondering if I would get to fuck her tonight.
"Do you want a drink, Joe?" I said, on my smoothest behaviour.
"Nah," he grunted. "I think I'll try the club in the back, if that's OK, Gran?"
She ruffled his hair. "That's fine Joe, just take care and please don't get too drunk." She laughed. "I suppose that's probably too much to expect of someone your age. I was a bit of a hellion when I was your age, and so was your mum; that's why I'm a granny now."
He stood up and slouched off towards the rear of the bar, where the club entrance was. I expected his chances of getting laid to be 50:50. The local girls always jumped a new face in town, but he was so bloody surly. Maybe when some young Tracy had his cock in her mouth it wouldn't matter so much.
I turned to Granny. "What about you?" I asked solicitously.
"I thought he'd never get off his arse," she muttered, and then to me "I'll have a large gin and tonic please."
I obediently trotted off to the bar and was rapidly back with her G