The shocking story of a ********** Housewife
I guess my spare-time career started when I realised what was going on with my neighbour and figured it was the answer to all my troubles. Once I got into it, well, I couldn't stop and now I have gained other problems amongst which I'm too successful at my job and I still daren't let my husband find out.
When I say 'troubles' what I really mean to say is that that I was suffering from the first-world frustrations of having too much time on my hands. I was like a lot of housewives I knew who most days after seeing their husbands off to work and the kids off to school would just be staying around the house most of the day, doing simple chores, watching TV, or whatever, until it was time to pick up the kids.
Our marriage and home-life was comfortable (boringly so)and although my husband had an OK job his salary didn't really stretch to providing us with any luxuries or treats. We spoke about me going back to work as there was no doubting that we could use a bit of extra money and once the kids were in full-time schooling I did try the work thing. However, I soon found out that the wages for the jobs I could get wouldn't cover the extra expenses involved in getting to work and so that idea died on the vine!
Then there was the other thing, our marriage of 12 years had become, for a better word, 'mundane'; we had gotten to be more like roommates than lovers. He no longer seemed to have any interest in sex whilst I found myself increasingly thinking of nothing else and although I had plenty of time on my hands to satisfy my needs with my collection of toys it didn't really substitute for the feeling of having a proper cock in my pussy.
I often used to meet up with girlfriends at a mall restaurant and, women being women, we gossiped about things like other women and the affairs they were having. (If husbands only knew!) It was always a relaxed couple of hours to be chatting and one time I relaxed a little more than I intended and remarked that I would pay a good stud to remind me what good sex was all about.
I guess that was the moment when the seed was planted. One of the other women jumped in and said, "Why pay them when they will pay you?"
I played along figuring we were just indulging in 'girl's banter' and flippantly said, "Just point some guys my way!"
I noticed another of the women who I hadn't met before looked at me rather intently and assumed it was an expression of disapproval but afterward, when we making to leave, she held my arm and said she wanted to talk to me in confidence or 'super confidence', as she put it. We waited for the others to get out of sight and we sat down again and she introduced herself as Cathy and then told me her little story.
She said that before she was married she used to do some work for an ****** outcall service and now, even though her husband didn't know, that sometimes she still fills in. She said this all matter-of-factly and added that the ****** agency were always looking for attractive new women.
At first I thought she was making some kind of joke and I was initially put off by the idea but she persisted on talking about it saying she used to be just like me, puttering around her house, bored out of her mind and that this part time occupation had become the saviour in more ways than one to a lot of her frustrations with married life.
What she was telling me struck a chord with my own situation and although I made a few token objections, she convinced me to that maybe I should talk to this woman who operated this 'really decent ****** service' and see if it might provide me with some profitable diversions during an otherwise boring day. She said, "just talk to her, that's all. No harm in just talking."
She gave me a business card with the address and telephone number of the agency and with that we parted and went our separate ways.
I spent the afternoon thinking of little else until just before I went to pick the kids up from school on a spur I made the call. The woman who answered made my enquiry seem like nothing out of the ordinary and within seconds an appointment was made for us to meet.
The next day after the usual chaos of getting everyone out of the house I took the short drive across town and found the anonymous looking low rise building in the commercial district. I'm not sure what I was expecting but once inside the woman's office I was pleasantly surprised to find it was quite swanky but not what you could call ostentatious. In keeping with that impression was that the woman herself was conservatively dressed and looked like any other serious businesswoman.
I guess that she had already made up her mind as to my suitability before we even got passed the introductions. What with the conversation we had the previous day coupled with my appearance was sufficient to confirm that I would be a welcome recruit and addition to the agency's books. There was no question about what was being supplied as a service and I was told that how I went about 'entertaining' and how frequently was down to me as the product. Her part in the process was purely as a booking agency and for that service a fee would be extracted as part of my 'wages'. She emphasized that there was a strict vetting process of customers in place and assured me there were safeguards that were part of her system. I was impressed and told her so but said that I needed a while to think about it before making a decision and with no sense of being pressured, I left.
I guess that fate must have taken an interest in my dilemma for the following day I looked out of my window to see a woman standing on my neighbour's doorstep, ringing the bell but clearly getting no response. She was still there when a few minutes later my curiosity got the better of me and I went out on my driveway to get a better look at her, pretending to be take trash out to the garage.
After ringing his doorbell once more, she saw me and walked over and asked if I knew where he was. I told her I didn't know saying he was probably just held up a bit but said she was welcome to wait in my house for his return.
She reluctantly agreed saying she would give him 15 minutes but my coffee and pie convinced her to stay and we ended up talking for well over an hour.
When I asked her about her relationship with my neighbour she was somewhat evasive. However I had already guessed what was really going on and I hinted as much. I told her that I often when looked out the window I could see that different women visited him and they didn't look like they were there to sell cookies!
She laughed and that seemed to break the ice and by that time we had sort of become friends. Even so, she wouldn't tell me her full name or where she lived.
After a bit the atmosphere changed, she looked me over and said I was beautiful and that a lot of guys would pay real money to spend a little time with me.
I just laughed and told her that I used to have a social life but that sort of evaporated when I got married.
I guess she suddenly saw me as a possible business opportunity, and then she sort of hinted about what some of the other housewives did, including the 'off-the-books' money they made, which in some cases, she said, ran into six figures.
She looked around, "I guess you don't need the money, but maybe you could use some excitement. If you're interested I can put you in touch with my agency." She reached in her purse and gave me a card. It was the same agency that I had visited the previous day. As I say, fate taking a hand.
After she left (my neighbour still hadn't returned) I dialled the number and signed up.
It was the following week when I knew my husband was going to be away for a couple of days on business that I called the agency again and said that I was available for a day-time '****** appointment'. (I had already been told of the terminology to be used whenever engagements were being arranged) and was advised of a time when the client would call.
For this first time I was petrified but as it turned out I think the guy was just as nervous as I was. He confessed that he had never done anything like this before and we both spent the hour like a couple of teenagers discovering what sex was all about. I suspected that the agency had sent him to me on purpose figuring that neither of us had any experience to know any better.
For myself, it was great, I had forgotten how wonderful it was to have a man really turned on with me. I had begun to think that I had lost whatever sex appeal I had and to see and feel his erect cock throbbing with excitement as I rolled on the condom for him before I lay down on my bed and spread my legs dispelled that thought straightaway.
I don't recall if he had his allotted hour but I do recall the feeling of euphoria after he left and I counted out the $150 that he gave me as my fee. As I tidied the bedroom and disposed of any evidence I knew that as long as I was careful and discrete that I had found the answer to my problems. I checked my (and hubby's) schedule for the next few weeks and called back to the agency and advised them of my 'availability'.
Before long, I was seeing two or three men a week. It got to be easy and occasionally even enjoyable. I began to look forward to seeing yet another erect penis and inwardly I marvelled at the variety; I never knew there could be so much variation of length, fatness, thinness, cut, uncut, the list went on but whatever the shape and size, the feel of a cock in my pussy once again after the drought that I had been suffering from my husband's indifference was pleasure in itself. He had no idea.
My new occupation still allowed me to maintain the outward appearance of being the suburban housewife and I continued with my coffee morning visits to the Mall and meeting up with the other girls. It wasn't always the same crowd but often I would see Cathy, the girl who had first mentioned the ****** service to me, there.
She must have noticed something about me that was different from our first meeting for, as before, when the coffee chat was over and after the goodbyes she lingered and held me back to quiz me as to whether I had taken her advice. My smile gave her the answer.
I confessed that it was working out great and my only problem was figuring how to explain my new-found wealth to my husband should he find out. She laughed at that and said that she had no such worries for her situation was quite the opposite given her husband was quite well off and didn't take any notice of her spending.
I asked her for 'her story' and she told me quite candidly that her road to being a ***** housewife was much like that taken by thousands of women in the United States who engage in ************, either because of a financial need or to break free from what they saw as a boring and confining life. I said a silent 'amen' to that.
Cathy was an attractive woman of about 30 who told me that she had enjoyed an active social life in high school and college. She said, without boasting, that she was seen as a high-energy person, a former cheerleader, who craved attention and constant activity.
After she left college with an OK degree she said that she wasn't really interested in finding a job as she had already decided that she would be quite happy to become some rich guy's trophy wife.. It didn't take her too long before she snared someone and married into money, definitely not for love
According to Cathy, her husband didn't want children, and being financially well off and having old-fashion attitudes, he didn't want her to work either. He would show her off at professional gatherings, during which time she was expected to be very proper and lady-like.
She said that whilst this situation had left her very comfortably off there was the downside that she had left all her friends in another city when she got married, and she had, in her words, 'was now stuck at home with nothing to do Monday through Friday except simple housekeeping chores and watching TV.'
"Much like you," she added before saying that on weekends her husband was primarily interested in catching up on his work and watching sports on TV.
"Sounds familiar," I said.
Cathy said that just like myself someone had mentioned the agency to her and she went down the same route as myself and made contact. The rest was history and now she revelled in her situation of ************ giving her a sense of power, both over men who sought her company and over her husband who robbed her of the personal freedom she had known before marriage.
She said half in jest that she felt like she was providing a service to men who wanted to spend time with her but, at the same time, finding an excitement in the clandestine nature of what she was doing.
Her last comments which somehow provided a good reason for being a ********** especially intrigued me. I focused on that and I empathised and convinced myself that I had found a justifiable reason to wanting to become really good at what I was doing and, as she said, the money isn't bad either!
Thinking back to a few weeks ago and the nervous beginnings with my first 'client' I asked her how it was for the first time with her.
She said that she had insisted that anyone that the agency sent had to be men from out of town. Her husband was well-connected locally and she wanted to minimise the risk of entertaining any guys who might have dealt with her husband. She wanted those who just came into town for a day or two and wanted to call on a very select suburban housewife for an afternoon's diversion.
She said within a week, "I got a call from the agency they said they had a man who was really nice and he just needs someone to talk to. They gave him my number and within a couple hours he called. I let him know where I lived and he asked if he could drop by.
"When he got here, we toured the house, talked more, and eventually ended up in the guestroom, where there's mostly just a bed.
"He definitely had a way about him. As we were standing there talking, he started rubbing my shoulders and stuff, and before long I had made up my mind to see what it would be like with him.
"Frankly, he was a lot better than my husband in bed; for sure far more enthusiastic and I ended up enjoying it."
She went on saying, "...I felt really guilty the next day but with my husband continuing to be mostly ignoring me I figured that it had been a long time since anyone had made love to me like that guy had and I thought, what the hell, I had sex with a guy who appreciated me and that from then on my door would be open.
"After a couple days I got a call from another guy, and I checked on him too with the agency, and the woman assured me that she wouldn't give anyone my number unless the person was okay so I invited him over and ended up having sex with him too.
"After that, it didn't seem as if I should refuse other men, and before long I had been bedded by several men and it had all become a bit routine. My husband would leave for work in the morning, I would wait for a call and then make an arrangement for a visit during the afternoon. It simply came down to a matter of deciding you are going to do it and then letting it happen, two strangers meeting and immediately having sex; that's kind of awesome when you think about it.
"After a while, you get past your hang-ups about doing stuff with men, even men you just met and it wasn't long before I learned how to keep a guy going, not letting him climax, until I was ready to come myself. I give good value for money and certainly I'm not providing just 'quickies', I've learned to take control of sex until we were both satisfied," she said with a smile.
I asked her if she was certain that her husband had no idea and her smile grew wider and she shook her head.
"I remember once when I had a regular client that the guy was fucking me and my husband had called. We were in the guest room and I picked up and was talking at the same time as this big dick was filling me up. The guy figured who it was and I think he sort of enjoyed the fact that he was fucking me while I was talking to my husband. I reckon he must have some kind of fantasy about it because as he began to climax he pulled out and deliberately cum over my hand that was holding the phone. God, what a mess, the phone, my rings and everywhere and my husband didn't have a clue.
"The guy wasn't making it easy, and it was all I could do to sound normal while that was going on. If my husband only knew what was going on at that moment! God, it was so surreal."
I laughed at the picture she was painting and looked around to see if any of the shoppers in the Mall passing our table had noticed my outburst; they hadn't.
Cathy was quite relaxed about sharing but paused to pick up her coffee cup (which must have been quite cold by now) and took a sip before continuing with her musings. I didn't interrupt.
"I find it exhilarating to have this secret life going. ... to have a recommended guy I have never met call me, and then to invite him over. We both know that I'm making myself available for sex. It's kind of scary and exciting but I guess I'm doing this is also sort of my revenge for being left stranded at home.
"Maybe the guys are using me but I'm also using them and the pay-off for my husband is that I'm probably easier to live with because I've quit complaining about how boring my life is!"
She took another sip and I admired the rings on her finger and imagined how they must have looked as she held the phone and then had them covered with another man's cum as she spoke to her husband. She put the cup down.
"I sort of get a kick out of going to one of my husband's company parties, looking so proper and all. If they only knew that his 'proper little lady', his stay-at-home wife, was regularly having sex with different guys for money!
"I opened up a secret bank account for the money just in case my husband finds out and divorces me or something. Do you know that after the end of the first year, not even a full year, my share of things through the agency was $58,000. They told me I'm worth more than some of the other girls and that now I have become a favourite with a lot of their regulars.
"Some of the guys are now referring their friends to me which the agency doesn't know about so in those cases I keep all the money for myself. Now I'm seeing guys most every afternoon and I figure it won't be long before I'm going to be on my way to a six-figure income with no income tax."
I asked her if she wasn't worried about getting found out but her response was, "I guess I've been lucky in not getting caught, so maybe I should quit.. But, I don't know if I would ever be able to go back now to just housework and those boring TV shows. I like it that guys are hot for me and it's not just the money; I can't even spend that for fear of getting found out. It's crazy but I love it."
She looked at her watch, "Oh my God, is that the time? I've gotta run."
I didn't ask why the rush but said something like that I also 'had things to do' and with that we parted.
******
I felt a lot more comfortable after that meeting with Cathy and prided myself on having become a 'good little *****' who attracted a faithful clientele who shared my requirement for discretion. I was starting to make good money and, just like Cathy, I set up a secret bank account which over the next few months I watched with satisfaction as the numbers grew. I had no idea what I was going to be doing with my wages but, by god, it did feel good to be leading this double life.
So much for my occupation during the week; the weekends were quite a different matter and we would be doing 'vanilla things' like entertaining family with a BBQ, maybe catching a movie at the local complex or driving the kids to some sports function or such. We kept busy and certainly there was never any hint when we did the family stuff that Mom during the week was a part time *****. In my fantasies I wondered just how my husband would react if he knew but I was never brave enough to even allude to such goings-on as I knew in my heart that he would go crazy if he discovered the truth.
The one thing that I did not appreciate was that most Friday evenings our neighbour, the one who had sort of prompted me to become a housewife *****, would come over and spend the evening drinking beer watching whatever sport was on TV with my husband. He was a really creepy guy and it didn't take much imagination to understand why his wife had left him and they had divorced. He was a real creep and when he wasn't watching the TV he would be looking at me, making stupid remarks which he obviously thought to be clever but only emphasised to me what a prick the guy was. My unspoken rejoinder when I heard his suggestions was to wonder how any of those women I had seen at his front door could go to bed with such a slob. He was gross and what made me more crazy was that my husband just didn't see it or, if he did, that he wasn't offended by the crass remarks or his behaviour.
Still, I just had to accept that there was nothing I could say or do that would change what had become a Friday night routine and, as they say, I just had to suck it up. Then it got worse.
It was one Friday evening with the pair of them occupying the sofa waiting for the game to start that my husband excused himself saying he had to go get a case of beer in from the garage. As soon as he left the room the neighbour said with a leer on his face, "I know what you get up to when your old man's outta the house ..."
I felt my blood chill but said nothing other than something like, "I have no idea what you are talking about." Brave words but I guess my expression contradicted my reaction.
"You have quite a few visitors during the day I've noticed and, ah, I don't have to guess what they are calling for."
Oh boy, from chilled blood to a hot flush of embarrassment as I quickly realised exactly what he was talking about. I had no words and was made even more speechless when he said, "Maybe the next time he's out of town you might just pay me a visit and you can tell me all about it!"
As I tried to absorb what he had said we were interrupted by the noisy entrance of my husband who came through the door lugging a case of beer which effectively stopped that line of conversation. He cracked open a couple of cans and passed one to the slob who took it and then, unseen by my husband, put a finger to his lips as if to indicate to me, 'our secret'.
As usual I left them to their stupid game and the beers and went into the kitchen and buried myself in a book but this time it wasn't usual for my mind was racing and I hardly took in a word on the pages as I re-ran the one-way discussion. What exactly had he seen and what did he really know and, more importantly, what was he going to do with the knowledge? I spent a nervous evening speculating and then the anxiety levels shot up when after the final whistle on the game was blown he got up from the couch, lumbered through the kitchen to go home via our back door and, again unseen by my husband, he tapped his Smartphone and whispered as he passed by, "I've got pictures."
******
The following week my husband had work upstate which would be taking him away for a couple of days leaving me home alone. I already had scheduled a couple of appointments knowing he was going to be away but now I was extremely nervous about the slob next door knowing that he obviously knew what I would be doing whenever my husband was going to be out of the house.
Tuesday afternoon and the doorbell announced the arrival of my client. I let him in and as I stepped aside holding the door I took a quick glance across the car pad to check on my neighbour's house and evidence of any twitching curtains. I didn't see anything to concern me and thereafter spent the next hour relaxing in the most delightful way possible with yet another new cock and an appreciative customer who knew how to use it. I must have orgasmed at least three times and my performance was rewarded with a $50 bonus. It felt good.
My visitor had hardly pulled off the pad before my phone chirped and I look down to see a text from an unknown number. I opened it to read 'Guess who? We need to talk. My back door is open. Don't be late'. Crap, how did the slob get my number?
There was point in my ignoring the message and with heavy feet and a racing heart I made my way through the back garden gate and went to the rear door as instructed. I pushed it open and there was the slob waiting for me in his lounge with a stupid grin on his stupid face.
"Welcome, thanks for coming ," he said in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "did you have a good time with your 'John'?"
I said nothing but just gave him my best withering look. He thought to encourage some reaction so he waved his cell phone at me, "Oh, just so you know, I took a picture of his plate."
The bastard, he was mocking me and knew there was nothing I could do about it. "What do you want?" I said with as much dignity as I could muster.
He continued to smirk and said, "Well, I'm guessing your old man doesn't know what you get up to when he's away and I figure you would kinda rather not have him find out. So I'm thinking that so we can keep this just between the two of us that you let me have a little of what you're selling for free; on the house so to speak."
I knew that it was going to be bad but, eugh, really??! Is this what it had come down to, his silence for my, well, no beating about the bush, my pussy? I couldn't think of anything more degrading ... the bastard ... but what could I do?
"So let me be clear. You want me to fuck you and you keep quiet and not say anything to my husband?"
"Yeah, well pretty much. I figure you must be making good money. I know the deal you ladies have and I know who you work for ..."
"Fuck," I thought, " how the fuck does he know that?" but then I figured that maybe he had put two and two together having dealt with Cathy and her maybe having told him that she had spent time with me when he had been out that day when she called. Who knew, but the point was that I didn't deny it and, anyway, he had evidence stored on that phone.
"OK, I'll think about it ..."
"Uh uh, there ain't no 'thinking about it' Missy. You'll do it and, you know what, we're going to make this a regular arrangement. Ain't no point in me spending good money when I can get you for free, is there?"
My heart sank, I was trapped.
"... and ain't no time like the present ...." With that he dropped his grubby sweat pants to reveal his equally disgusting-looking cock, " ... come on, get on your knees Missy."
So began the path to my degradation with this disgusting jerk who delighted in calling me over to his house especially just after I had said my goodbyes to a client. He obviously spent a lot of his time peering through his drapes (no doubt stroking his little dick) waiting for the moment when the car left so he could pick up his phone and take another picture for his collection before giving me the call.
I dropped to my knees just as he told me and tried to blank my mind to what I knew was to come next. He kicked off the pants and took a few steps so that he was positioned just so and said, "Come on Missy, open wide. Give me a little of that sweet mouth of yours. I wanna know just how good ***** you are. Maybe if you ain't that good I might just have to tell someone ...."
I didn't hear anymore or rather, I didn't listen; I just let him babble on as I took hold of his stubby stiff dick and closed my mouth around it. Compared with the variety of cocks that I had serviced over the past few months I didn't need to worry that it would be that much of an inconvenience! I used all the skills that had now become second nature and I sucked and licked while at the same time I tickled his hanging sac with my finger nail. It clearly had the right effect for after a few moments he began to grunt like the beast he was and started to thrust and face fuck me. Not wishing to give him the pleasure of shooting his cum in my mouth I pulled away and he immediately started to dribble from the fat knob that I wished that I had bitten instead of sucking. He didn't seemed too pleased to have been denied and with a growl he pushed me to the floor and before I knew it I was on my back with him pulling up my skirt and my panties to one side and shoving his dick inside me. Thank God I was still wet from my recent encounter with a real cock for he slipped inside and I hardly felt anything. A couple of thrusts and with another grunt I'm guessing that he came and added to the cum that was already there. I could only surmise, I certainly couldn't feel anything , the loser.
He rolled off and, no surprises, he didn't thank me for the pleasure and I didn't wait to hear. As I made my way out he called and said, "see you Friday night, as usual." I wasn't sure if that was a question or just a statement. Either way, it wasn't something that I would be looking forward to.
So my new part-time career went into a new phase. Just when I was getting comfortable and beginning to enjoy the perks of a regular wage and regular cock then along comes this jerk to spoil it all. I still continued to enjoy the good bits of meeting new friends but now underlying it all was the knowledge that the jerk (slob, loser or whatever else I wanted to think of him as) was lurking in the background and, on demand, having his way with me and all because he was hanging the threat over my head of ******** me to my husband. He made my flesh creep and my misery was compounded weekly by his coming over to spend those few hours watching sports and drinking beer with the one who I feared would be told the truth.
His leering expression whenever I looked his way told me that he knew just how trapped I was and that he had the whip hand so to speak. My husband sitting alongside him was quite oblivious to anything going on but, then again, no surprises there for he always seemed to drift through life in his own little world, an innocent, unknowing cuckold who would be devastated if he was to learn what his wife was up to when he was out of the house ... and the slob knew it.
For myself, the regular money building up in my secret account was too good to be ignored and I resigned myself to having to suffer the indignities of being fucked on a regular basis by him in order to continue with the delights of having 'real' men pleasuring me. I developed an ability to block out from my mind the period it took from me leaving my house, going into his, have his pathetic excuse for a cock spurt his stuff in one way or another in or on me and then to shower and get the hell out of there and back to the safety of my own home.
Albeit, increasingly it wasn't easy to ignore what went on when I paid him the visit for it seemed that each time he would find some other quirk or deviation from a straight fuck to explore. Over the months he had me in every position imaginable; he would have me jerk him off and then insist that in some way or another I get him aroused so that he could attempt a second round (he mostly failed); he confessed that he loved having sloppy seconds and he insisted that I come to him without cleaning myself beforehand; he tried, without success, on many occasion to have me anally. There was nothing it seemed that was beyond his perverted imagination and I, as I said, just had to suck it up (in more than one sense!)
So it seemed that my professional life would continue as long as I could keep things at this level and under some semblance of control but then he really blew it, he made a demand too far.
I never did understand or even really consider from where he got his money. He never appeared to have a proper job, go out to work or anything that would indicate an income. If I had have thought then maybe he was living on a pension/investments or something like that but, did I care?
Well, soon I was made to care for he shook me out of my denial by saying one day that he had decided that he should be getting a percentage of what I was earning! He said that it would be a small price to pay for his continued silence and discretion; he said that in effect he would become my pimp and that he knew plenty of guys who would pay good money to have what I was selling. He even made a joke that it would be 'money off the books'. I didn't share his laughter.
He babbled on and attempted to make it seem like a business plan but all he succeeded in doing was to make himself sound even more crude and whilst I was never going to agree to such a ridiculous suggestion (along with the thought of what his associates must be like, enough to kill the idea stone dead) I made some non-committal answer but at the same time decided that, one way or another, this thing with him must stop.
It was on my next visit that he decided he wanted to explore something new. He led me through to the bathroom where he had already filled the tub with sudsy water. He said that he had always wanted to share a bath with me and that I could use a soapy hand or two to get him off, maybe slide my soapy tits over his cock, play some 'water sports' with him. Yeuk, was my unsaid reaction to that suggestion.
It was a hot day and the thought of a hot bath wasn't a particularly attractive idea but there was no way I could refuse his demands. He was already untying his bathrobe as he told me what we would be doing and resigned to my fate I quickly pulled off my own clothes and stepped into the bath after him. He smirked at me as we faced each other in the large corner tub and it wasn't long before he had grasped his cock and was stroking it with his soapy hand to make himself erect. He told me to soap up and to 'wash' my breasts which I did and actually found to be quite erotic as I looked on him looking at me and jerking his stiff dick. This kept him occupied for a few minutes and then he told me that he thought my pussy could do with a trim, that he would like to see me baby-smooth before he got me to do what he had always wanted me to do; to piss over him.
Oh my god, the very thought was almost enough to make me vomit but it was also a lightning strike of an idea. I said nothing other than, "I'll get a razor".
I stepped out of the bath leaving him stroking his dick and went toward the washbasin as if I was going to pick up the razor that was lying there. I never made it, instead I picked up the electric fan that was running on the window sill and threw it into the bath. There was a suppressed bang as the fan hit the water and I don't think there was even time for him to change his expression as the electric shock killed him.
I tentatively leaned over the bath being careful not to touch any surface and looked at him lying there his head under the water where he had slumped and, touchingly, he still had his hand around his cock. There was no movement whatsoever and the silence was only disturbed by the sound of the burglar alarm that had kicked in when the power had kicked off. I quickly gathered my clothes and removed any evidence of my presence and made my way out through the kitchen to the back door. On my way I picked up his cell phone which was laying on the counter.
The police reacted very quickly to my 911 call when I informed them that a neighbour's alarm was disturbing the peace. I peered through my drapes as the patrol car pulled up and watched as the two officers went around the back of the house. It didn't take too long before they reappeared and for one of them to get back in the car and presumably call in to say what they had found. The Coroner's ambulance appeared later in the day to tidy things up.
It was the following edition of our local newspaper that reported the tragic accident that had caused the death of one of our citizens. The piece, reported as a cautionary tale, told of the demise of a bachelor who inadvisably had been using an electric fan in his bathroom that had accidentally fallen into the bathtub and electrocuted him.
It was my husband that showed the article to me and we both agreed that it was such a shame for the 'nice guy' next door to have come to such a tragic end. I'm not sure how I managed to keep a straight face as I read it especially as alongside the report was a classified ad for ****** services being offered by my agency.
I took the newspaper out to the trash bin in the garage and carefully wrapped up the cell phone that I had previously crushed using a hammer before burying it deep.
Time to get back to work without further disturbance.
*******
