Sexting with the Real Estate Agent

I was playing the role of dutiful girlfriend at one of my boyfriend’s frequent events, but I didn’t really want to be there, so I was standing just outside the door, smoking a cigarette in my long fur coat. Even though I was disinterested in the event, I always tried to look hot for them, desperate to get some attention from my boyfriend, who was far more concerned with his passion projects than showing me any passion. I wore skin-tight black jeans with high-heeled boots and a tight black shirt that I had pulled down my shoulders. My neck and chest were revealed.

Two men approached the door, looking unsure of where they were going. Since I was the only one outside, I asked them if they were there for the event. They said yes. “It’s twenty dollars each,” I said, acting like I was the door girl. The man closest to me reacted with shock (this certainly wasn’t a twenty-dollar-worthy event) and turned around to leave.

“Wait!” I screamed at him, realizing he had taken me seriously. “I’m just kidding. It’s free.” The man growled at me, studying me with suspicious eyes and admiration. I looked back at him, and our eye contact put my pussy immediately on edge. I wanted him to dominate me. He was a bear with big arms, broad shoulders, and a hairy chest I could see springing from his shirt. He was taller than my boyfriend, with a much larger presence, and in contrast to all of his insanely masculine features, he had the softest, most beautiful dark eyes and a smirk that felt somehow jolly. He was my type.

We laughed together over the trick I had pulled, and Joseph, that was his name, kept shaking his head and calling me bad. “You’re good at being bad,” he said.

Joseph and his friend eventually went into the event. I stayed put outside, pacing back and forth, smoking another cigarette, feeling like I absolutely had to fuck this person, but what a terrible coincidence that he was in the same place as my boyfriend at the same time. When I finally returned inside, despite my best efforts to avoid him, I was physically drawn to him. I spotted him at the bar and sidled up. It was as if I wasn’t in control of my body; it was already his.

I tried to make small talk, but my pussy was overriding my brain, so I announced that I was going back outside for a smoke. He asked to join me. I knew he wanted me, too.

I lit his cigarette and then mine and managed to ask him where he lived (purely strategic information). He lived nearby. I told him I lived in Bushwick too but was looking for a new place. He asked me where I was looking and for how many bedrooms, then revealed he worked in real estate. My pussy was doing backflips. “I’d love to see some places; if you have anything you think I might like?” I tempted him. “Yeah, sure, give me your number, and I’ll send some your way.”

As we exchanged numbers, my boyfriend opened the door and saw me. “I’ve been looking for you,” he told me, glancing at this man, a sexier, larger version of himself. “Oh, I just made a friend, and we’re smoking,” I dismissed him. The tension of being surrounded was turning me on even more.

“Who was that?” Joseph asked once my boyfriend had gone back inside. “My boyfriend,” I said nonchalantly. Again, he called me bad. We were magnetized. “I bet you do many bad things,” he said.

The next day at work, I decided to text him because I couldn’t stop imagining him fucking me.

“Nice meeting you last night. When are you taking me to see some apartments?” I wrote.

He replied, quickly: “Tell me again what you want?”

“You weren’t listening?”

“I was staring at your tits,” he wrote.

Electricity shot through me.

“They’re nice, right? I don’t blame you.”

“Yeah,” he texted. “I want them in my face.”

Without a beat, I replied, “I want them in your mouth.”

“Show me.” he wrote.

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