"Property Pleasures" by HeyAll and R.
Summer Holiday 2024
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xxx
Attending these events have pushed my bank account to the limit. The designer clothes, the heels, getting my hair done. It costs a ton of money. I consider it a great investment though. The event, located in a hotel ballroom, has just concluded. The guest speakers have given talks on the current state of Miami real estate. People applaud and leave their seats to mingle.
The speakers are nice, but make no mistake about it, these events are all about networking. Miami is just like LA or New York, social status is what opens doors. Looking the part and having the right group of friends can be a bigger advantage than having the right degree or resume.
Now the star of the show is making her way around to greet the attendees. Ayalete is this tall Jewish beauty who got her start in the fashion industry before switching careers to real estate. She's young, only a few years older than me. Long black hair, a perfect bronze tan, and thick framed glasses for added effect.
Her height is towering when she gets to me. She's got to be around 6 feet tall, which is substantial compared to my smaller frame. We shake hands and make small talk over the sea of conversations that surround us. When it's time for her to move along, she winks and thanks me for coming.
Now that's what I call aura. I've met a few celebrities back when I worked at an expensive steakhouse in California, or classy retail. The truth is, most celebrities come across as regular people. Only a few have that magical aura which feels like a sparkle when they step into a room, which makes your head turn to look. Ayalete has that kind of aura. Style, beauty, charisma. The total package.
As people start to leave, I search for my friends and I get another surprise as Ayalete calls my name from behind. She rushes over to me. She looks a little tipsy from some wine.
"We should totally exchange contact information," she says. "Who knows? Maybe we can work together? You literally look like a good luck charm."
She grabs my phone when I take it out. Instead of putting in her phone number, she opens my Instagram app and makes sure we follow each other. She smiles when she realizes that I already follow her. `The New Queen of Florida Realty,' as the media calls her, wants to be my friend. You can imagine how much this excites me.
At night I devour Ayalete's social media content while alone in my small apartment. She has several hundred posts and over 600k followers. I've browsed her content and reels before, but this time in a new light. Her bio reads, `Formerly in fashion, currently serving high-end real estate in the Miami area.' The account is mostly professional, most of the images are property listings. Living rooms, kitchens, balconies with ocean views.
I'd say she appears in half of the images with her gorgeous smile and top of the line fashion. One picture shows her in a revealing dress, standing by a window overlooking the beach, with a caption that reads, `Do you want to wake up to this view every morning? Could be yours...'
All of her pictures are glamorous, always with a big smile, always in a different designer outfit. Cleavage is commonplace. A few of the images are personal, showing her outdoors doing sporting activities or posing at vacation destinations. Several pictures show her having dinner in trendy downtown restaurants with a large glass of wine beside her. Sometimes with a guy sitting next to her.
Her captions would read:
`Celebratory dinner with a client and now good friend! I assisted him in a record breaking sale of his beautiful home. I can do the same for you!'
`You never know when you might hit it off with clients.'
The comment section has people in the industry cheering her on, women being inspired by her success, who are also envious of her clothes and lifestyle, and men being thirsty over her. I'm more interested in getting a vibe for Ayalete's social circle, wondering if I'd fit in, because make no mistake about it, being in her proximity would do wonders for my career.
And then I'll come across comments that go beyond the normal trolling, sexist remarks that women are prone to getting from certain men. Two particular comments stand out, both posted under pictures where she's having dinner with male clients.
`I doubt she considers it being an escort. The men just need to seal the deal, and if they want her chained up for the night, why not'
`Bet she spends the night being the you-know-what of whatever rich men can think of...'
She responded to both of those comments calling them idiots and using the clown emoji. It sucks to admit this to myself, but this is one of the few instances where the troll comments actually makes me stop and think. Despite all she's done to boost women in the business world, she only promotes being around male clients, and she has no shame cozying up to them with fancy dinners.
Ever since I was in college I remember being enamored with a woman's sexuality. I remember sitting in different history classes, learning about the great women in history, and how they used their bodies to get what they wanted from men. It was a dangerous fascination, I know, but a liberating one. It allowed me to see women in a new light, as provocateurs, rather than victims.
I'd been called a nymphomaniac by past boyfriends. I'm obsessed with sex, but more toward the psychological aspects. I consider it a Pandora's Box kind of thing. Once I open it I'm afraid I'll never be able to put it back. That stops me from exploring my body to the fullest, the fear of becoming an addicted slut.
xxx
The gym has always been my solace. I've been a fitness enthusiast since high school where I ran track. These days I focus on cardio, weight lifting, and yoga. I'm covered in sweat doing a cycling class with my friend. As the class ends, girls do what they normally do, talk about how hard that was, or check their phones.
In the locker room I check my phone messages while my friend is talking to someone.
Agent Marsden
That's the man who nearly ruined my life a couple months ago. He's a local FBI agent who arrested my client for money laundering. I was questioned for hours, crying at times, until finally they let me go. It was believed that my being `young and naive' was the reason the client hired me, because I wouldn't ask questions.
My (former) client is in federal prison after pleading guilty. Meanwhile this agent still keeps tabs on me. He acts like I'm suspicious, but in my view, he wants to fuck. Nobody wants to be entangled with law enforcement, but how do you fight back against people like that?
I step into the hallway while my friend takes a shower. I call the agent back, who always complains if I don't give a prompt reply.
"How are things?" he asks.
"Sweating like crazy from a cycling class."
"Yeah, I can hear the showers in the background."
The comment makes the hairs on my neck stand.
"Did you want something?" I ask.
"Just checking on you. I know things have been stressful. And I want to know if you've heard or seen anything. The offer still stands, you know?"
His long standing gesture is to turn me into some kind of paid informant. He's never stated a dollar amount, but it's always been implied that he's got authority to give payouts, either that or the harassment continues. And make no mistake about it, being called by the FBI every few weeks is harassment.
Or I could just fuck him. That's been his ultimate goal ever since he laid eyes on me. His eyes would go up and down my body, only when no one else notices.
In a snap decision I whisper to the agent about my growing friendship with Ayalete, and by the `hmmm...' sounds he's making, he knows exactly who this woman is. I explain how we've been texting and making plans to do something together. I regret this already because I'm betraying Ayalete in some way.
There's a pause on the line as he thinks.
"Only serious criminals," I say.
My voice is a whisper, looking around to ensure that no one is paying attention.
"Excuse me?"
"I'll only help with serious criminals. Terrorists, foreign spies, whatever."
"That's fine," Marsden said. "Going after tax cheats won't get me a promotion."
He emphasizes the, `You help me, I'll help you,' philosophy where he promises money and government assistance. When the call ends, I put my phone away and strip down to use the shower.
xxx
Having lunch with Ayalete after a week of texting is like meeting up with a celebrity. The waitress brings sushi rolls, tempura, and miso soup. Ayalete is going on and on about her stressful morning dealing with a lending company. Usually talking all about yourself is a huge red flag, but if anyone's earned the right to talk about themselves -- it's her.
The conversation turns to me and she asks about my family and interests. She asks about my career in real estate and how I got started. Everything she does, her body language, her questions, her tone, is about establishing her dominance. Women have this subtle way of affirming social order and a chain of command.
Part of me wants to come clean because of that nagging guilt inside of me. But saying things like, `I'm kinda, sorta working with the FBI,' tends to be a dealbreaker in friendships. Especially given who her clients are.
"Free after this?" she asks. "We can go for a ride if you have time."
"Yeah, that sounds amazing."
After finishing up, we ride in her McLaren with the top down and the sun beaming down on us. It's my first time being in a sports car and the power is addictive. She hasn't told me where we're going, but we pull into the parking lot of a luxury condo. The property is located in an exclusive waterfront neighborhood.
Walking with her makes me feel like a little sister. She's wearing thick framed glasses and red high heels which makes her even taller. Her dress is so small that it reveals most of her legs. We take the elevator up to the 15th floor.
The condo has all the modern amenities and a stellar ocean view. Her heels make a clicking sound on the floor as she paces around. She lingers around the kitchen, strutting her legs to show them off. Then she explains the drastic measures she takes to nab the biggest clients away from the biggest real estate agencies.
"You know, in this business, it's not just about selling properties. It's about building relationships. You have to be able to connect with your clients on a deeper level. That's how you make a name for yourself in this industry. Most realtors share listing pictures and give tours. Boring shit. I give a more personal touch. That's what my clients love about me. That I'm fun, often spontaneous. And I make their dicks hard. Does this bother you?"
Our eyes lock when she mentions `dicks.' I marvel at her sexuality, how free she is, how she doesn't care what anyone else thinks, doing whatever it takes to get ahead in life. Sleazy, yes, but her clothes are designer brands and her business is booming. I've never done anything sexual to get ahead, but I could have.
When we come to an understanding, Ayalete hands me her phone with the camera ready, then she puts her fashion experience to good use and strikes different poses in the kitchen. She struts around in her heels, makes use of the kitchen as a background, she even gives a sultry look to the camera.
The mood grows hotter when she sits on the marble countertop next to the stove. If her goal is to highlight the modern appliances, then she's hitting the mark. It's only when she opens her legs, crossing then uncrossing them, that I have the suspicion that she isn't wearing panties. Is she doing this on purpose? I keep snapping pictures until I see it. No panties.
She's laughing while swaying her red heels around, then she gets off the kitchen counter and asks for her phone back. She flips through the phone and admires the picture I've taken of her. I'm not sure if her labia was caught in the images, it happened so fast.
"You know how rich New Yorkers are moving down here?" she asks. "They'll be getting these pictures. That's why clients love me."
"Aren't you afraid of these pictures being spread around?"
"Not within these circles. You'll see."
Her skirt is still hiked, baring her thighs. It's a total power move, as if to show that this is our friendship going forward, with her taking whatever liberties with her body that she wants. And there's nothing I can do about it. Because she calls the shots in our friendship... or whatever this is.
xxx
A few nights later I'm invited to dinner with Ayalete and two potential clients at a Brazilian steakhouse. We're eating outside with all the other stylish patrons. I'm wearing a revealing black dress with stockings. The men, both Cubans working in the import/export business, are dressed semi-casual. Everyone pales in comparison to Ayalete, of course, who's wearing a tiny dress with a plunging neckline.
She sits next to Ricardo, the oldest of the two, and they flirt all night while steak is being served. I talk here and there, but she leads the conversation. We share laughs. Real estate hasn't even been mentioned once. This is all about getting to know each other.
When the meal is finished and desserts are ordered, Ayalete says she needs to use the bathroom and Ricardo gives the same excuse. I'm left alone with the younger man. I try not to be awkward. Conversation is light, nothing compared to the excitement of Ayalete's stories.
"Maybe you should check on your friend," he says. "It's been a while. She might need help."
There's a sly expression on his face like he knows something is going on.
"Is this something I should see?"
"Go on, look for yourself."
He's flirtatious in his own way, encouraging me, rather than pushing me to do something that would make me uncomfortable. It's almost like a game of dare.
I hesitate for a moment but curiosity gets the better of me. I rise from my seat and make my way towards the restroom area, my heart pounding. Ayalete isn't in the women's room. I check outside behind the restaurant, walking around the staff and other customers.
The sound of muffled voices and soft moans guide me towards the source and I cautiously peer around the corner. In a dimly lit spot behind the restaurant, Ayalete is on her knees, her dress hiked up to reveal her toned thighs. She's pleasuring Ricardo with her mouth, her head going back and forth. The sight is unnerving and my pussy clenches.
I know they heard my heels clicking on the pavement, it was loud enough, then Ricardo looks me in the eyes while getting sucked off. Our eye contact only makes him hotter. I'm frozen. His cock must be rock hard because Ayalete sucks faster and strokes, knowing an orgasm is coming.
That's when I leave. As aroused as I am, something about a cum shot feels too personal to watch, like it's too forbidden. Or maybe I'm afraid of having an awkward conversation with Ayalete afterward because I wasn't invited to the show. Minutes later we're all back at the table having desserts. Ayalete is enjoying her ice cream, tainted with cum in her mouth.
Back in my apartment I talk to the FBI agent on the phone. I don't mention the blowjob I saw at the restaurant. Instead I'm doing everything I can to back out of the arrangement we have, hoping he'd disregard that I had ever mentioned Ayalete's name. But people in law enforcement don't work like that, not when there's a big lead.
"Did you know she's a gangbang queen?" Agent Marsden says.
The comment makes me pause. I'm tempted to confess what I saw earlier, but I don't want to dig myself into a deeper hole, worse than I'm already in.
"That's not illegal."
"I never said it was."
"Then why bring it up?"
"You already know," he says. "Point is, you're in a great position. You were born with certain assets and you're linked with the right people. Be smart about this, I'm authorized to make you a paid informant -- if you're a good girl. Or we could do it the other way."
Marsden can smell a promotion at this point.
I'm laying on my couch while the tv is on. Seeing what Ayalete did with that guy is more prominent in my mind than being threatened by an FBI agent. I rub my breasts through my thin top, circling around the nipples. Then down around my pussy while thinking about the blowjob. Imagining myself in that position is what makes me wet.
Grabbing my phone, I decide to text her.
Me: I saw you with Ricardo behind the restaurant. Shocking, but if that's what it takes then im cool with that. Id love to work with you, however I can
I take off my bottom and rub my pussy while thinking. This isn't a normal masturbation session, this is everything about my life rolled into one. My sexuality, my entanglement with the FBI, and my career trajectory. Working with her can make me a star in the industry and I love that.
But god knows what I'd be expected to do.
That excites me.
I make myself cum thinking of the endless possibilities of a career with demanding clients. I'd be entirely in Ayalete's hands, of course, because I'd never do anything sexual with a client on my own. That's never been my thing. I'd need to be pushed. With her, all things are possible, and that's what gives me an orgasm.
By divine coincidence, my phone beeps after I cum and my body is relaxed.
Ayalete: : )
That's all she sends. Just a smiling emoji. Minutes later, I get an email with an Amazon gift card, followed by links to expensive heels and designer lingerie. This is how she wants me to dress. She doesn't attempt to explain or clarify, but I accept the gift card and order the products, knowing the consequences.
xxx
The outfit and undergarments leave little to the imagination and the heels make me taller than ever. A small dress to cover everything helps preserve my dignity as I walk through the lobby of a luxury condo. My appearance is crucial to the deal we're about to make, or so I've been told.
She opens the door on the 18th floor and her dress is even more revealing than mine, but she's got style for days, with dark framed glasses and bright red heels. She looks me over and I enter the condo. We've been in constant communication over the game plan, my private masturbation has been constant as well.
I'm fixing my appearance in a full-length mirror, surprised that someone like me would ever step out in public like this. The revealing dress, the towering heels, the carefully curated image -- it's all foreign to me. I grew up a sporty girl and only learned how to be sexy in college from my older sister.
Now I'm playing a part in this high stakes game of real estate, and if I'm being honest, I don't know if I'm up to the challenge. I can masturbate thinking of this all day long. But to suck someone off in the back of a restaurant, or be fucked in a condo, it's stressful.
The countertop is arranged with brochures and paperwork. Part of the usual deal for any property showing, and now her attention is on her makeup, checking her appearance with a small mirror kept in her purse. Special attention is given to her mouth as she applies lip gloss. Another blowjob? Here?
She checks her phone when there's a text, then she opens the door. It's three businessmen from New York; two Jewish white guys, one black guy. They're wearing short sleeve shirts and linen pants on this hot day. They like what they see, ignoring the property, but checking out Ayalete and myself without any shame.
Using her usual flare, she shows the three men around the condo. They're moving their financial firm to this area and they're looking for places to live. She navigates the conversation, leads everyone around, starting from the living room to the kitchen to the bedrooms. The woman is a natural-born charmer, able to disarm anyone.
"Well, gentlemen," she says. "I think you'll find that this condo is the perfect investment for your portfolio. And, of course, my lovely associate is here to ensure that all your needs are met."
I freeze when the men look at me. I mean, completely frozen, like I'm suffering stage fright of the worst kind. They know I'm not ready yet, so one guy takes Ayalete by the hand and leads her to the open balcony. Everyone follows, myself included. The hot sun is shining. The downtown area and ocean view are behind them. People outside can see this if they have the right angle.
Two of the men remove Ayalete's dress, exposing her dark pink nipples and soft body. No tan lines. She must sunbathe in the nude. Had they done this before? Talked about it? It's so effortless for them, their hands roaming her body, her hands touching them in return. They play with her boobs and ass. They especially love her ass.
Ayalete drops to her knees, her eyes locked on the men as she takes control of the situation. It's like she's dominant and submissive at the same time. The men exchange glances and Ayalete's nipples glisten under the sunlight. They undo their pants, free their cocks, and position themselves to her mouth. The men have done this before with other women, they're too coordinated, not clumsy at all when it comes to sharing a mouth. I still wonder if they've done this with her. Or if she's ever taken this many cocks before.
One by one she sucks them. She alternates between using her hands and mouth, the Jewish cocks and the black one. They rub her hair, they moan, they throb in her mouth.
I lean against the wall, pulling my panties down to play with my pussy. It's wet, of course, drenched. I finger myself deep and it's uncomfortable because of how nasty this is. I've always been a one-on-one kind of girl, so playing with myself in front of other people is new to me, especially around men we're doing business with. They're watching me while being sucked, lusting after my wetness and inexperience.
She pulls her mouth away as the men get more aggressive in pulling her head.
"Your turn to play," she says. "We have clients in need of service."
That's all she can say before the men shove themselves back into her mouth, this time more than one guy at a time. A chill goes down my spine knowing I'm next and that I'll be treated exactly like her. They look at me. Expecting. It's like they shouldn't have to say any more, because with the amount of money they're spending, an extra blowjob should be included with the cost.
I undress until I'm full nude and their eyes marvel at my big nipples. I approach them and get on my knees, having never been a part of a group situation before. No one wastes any time. One guy is assertive and rubs the back of my head and stuffs himself in my mouth, brushing past my lips and his head rubbing against my tongue. I start sucking alongside Ayalete, my new business partner.
A question lingers as my head bobs. Who am I doing this for? I wonder if I'd even be here sucking hard cocks if not for that FBI agent. Or maybe I've been enamored by the charisma of Ayalete all this time. But I can't deny how wet my pussy is for these men. They're looking at me like a fresh hole to give comfort to their dicks. Like their money can buy anything, including a woman's submission. The sound of their moaning, and our sucking, starts to blend with the sound of the ocean waves nearby. It's a dirty kind of music, one that'll be part of my business career.
Two men share my mouth the way they shared Ayalete's, one white, the other black, rubbing against each other on my tongue, between my lips. It's not about sucking them since I can barely fit them in my mouth, it's about being used as property. Being owned and realizing it. Them looking down at me with lust in their eyes as their erections fight for real estate in my hole.
I feel the telltale signs of male release. Their aching throbs. Their urgent thrusts. They take their wet cocks out and stroke, pointing themselves to our faces and mouths. The first spurt hits my eye and I clench my eyes shut. Their salty cum unloads in my mouth and I keep my tongue out. I've never had this much cum in my life, and let me tell you, it's an acquired taste. Their different flavors and textures blend together.
Ayalete is beside me and I'm listening to her suck and gurgle it all down. She's a pro. An expert when it comes to serving men in all sense of the meaning. When I hear her gulping and swallowing as the cum shots end, I do the same, swallowing their cum. Savoring the salty taste and feeling the smooth texture go down my throat.
I wipe my eyes and open them. The men are grinning.
"A sample of our full-service approach," she says.
The men roar with laughter, she's way too comfortable with this, I guess I'll have to be also. The men tuck their cocks away and head back inside to the kitchen where they wash their hands. Ayalete remains full nude while everyone finishes their business conversation. They're talking about offers and reasonable prices in the area. I never thought I'd see a professional conversation while the lead realtor is nude, and the men actually listen, taking her seriously.
As they finish their conversation I'm told to masturbate nude in the center of the kitchen. This isn't meant to be demeaning, it's meant to provide an erotic backdrop while they work out details. They talk, once in a while the men will glance in my direction, watching my legs spread, nipples erect, while I'm standing and furiously rubbing my pussy and erect clitoris. This is something Ayalete had explained to me, the concept of doing something shocking to catch clients off guard, which apparently can result in favorable deals.
My toes curl. When I cum and the sound of squirt hits the floor, the men look at me and smile. They love the sight of my orgasm, my quivering moans, my feet clenching and thighs flexing. I keep rubbing and fingering my pussy until there's a pool of wetness below me. The men thank me for the show, they thank Ayalete for the business, and they thank us for the oral service.
When they leave, Ayalete takes me to the shower and we wash ourselves. She shampoos my hair. Soaps my body. She expresses her gratitude while holding me, saying she had a gut feeling that I'm a talented cocksucker. I can tell she wants to kiss, which catches me off guard.
"Agent Marsden."
"What do you mean?" she asks.
"That's the man who controls my life."
Her mouth hangs open as I explain everything.
xxx ONE YEAR LATER xxx
I get out of bed and pull the curtains open. Ayalete made sure I got a generous price for this condo. I have an open air shower to start my day. What I love about this shower, aside from the elegance, is that I'm pretty sure people in neighboring buildings can see me naked. I once read that sexual energy helps achieve creative apex. This gives me an edge, I think.
Afterward I put on a robe and have water, then coffee with granola cereal, blueberries and chocolate chips on top. I always eat in front of my laptop by the window. I'm the ultimate multitasker. Emails, social media, and whatever podcast I'm in the mood to listen to. Today it's politics.
Clients are the lifeblood of everything now. When I was young, all I thought about was playing sports and going to the mall with friends. Now that I'm a single adult living alone, all I think about is making money. I have several clients I'm working with and making them happy is my top priority. I'm currently listed as one of the best realtors in the city.
You can also call me a gangbang queen alongside Ayalete because she had introduced me to everyone who matters; that's the core of our business, our mouths, pussies, and assholes. She says it's basic customer service, and if you ask me, that's a fancy way to sugarcoat things. But the truth is, being involved with client-gangbangs has changed me in ways I never could have imagined. The thrill, the rush of adrenaline, pushing my boundaries -- it's an addiction.
It always happens in property we're trying to sell or lease, most of the time with the owner knowing. Always in heels. Always with my feet in the air at some point. Always with my pussy spread. Sometimes with my asshole if the deal is big enough and my commission is right. There's something about men taking turns on my pussy that feels out-of-body. It changes me. It's like I'm there, but I'm not truly myself -- if you can even make sense of that.
My cum would wet the floor or furniture depending on where we did it. After that, it was back to business. That's always been the amusing part. How we could go from business discussions to flirting to fucking, to swallowing cum, then have serious discussions about equity and title insurance, with cum still on our nude bodies.
Not everything is sex though. Not everything is money.
Because of my actions, Agent Marsden has opened three major criminal cases. One of them has led to criminal indictments relating to international drug traffickers who operate in the Miami area. He's called me a hero several times, but let's be honest, no one is a hero from sucking cock.
If you're wondering what Ayalete thinks about that, she's milking it for everything it's worth. Payments. Favors from the government. Every aspect turns her on. We've even had to record some of our gangbang sessions as part of sting operations against suspects. It was uncomfortable knowing agents were watching while men took turns fucking me. It was shameful. But I squirted harder. I've always wondered if agents jerked off in the bathroom after watching.
Would I change anything about my life? At this point, you can guess.
The End
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