Skip to content Life felt good when everything lined up. I was in my mid-thirties, running a successful business. I was newly married, and my wife was pregnant with our first child. I was on my way to a luxurious real estate tour in Miami. My wife had loved the photos, but even with how well I was doing, it was slightly above my budget.
I pulled into the gated parking lot and immediately caught sight of the real estate agent. She was tall, with natural red hair and either enhanced breasts or a push-up bra that did a great job of lifting them. I could not tell which. She smiled when she recognized me, and it highlighted her high cheekbones and dimples.
Why did every real estate agent have to look like a model? On top of that, she looked very young. She could not have been older than twenty-one. A well-endowed young woman, no doubt. I stepped out of the car, and she smiled at me again, this time a little more demurely.
She walked toward me in high heels. She wore a pencil skirt and a matching tight blouse. The skirt might as well have been painted on, and the deep V-neck of her blouse did an excellent job of showing off her breasts.
Whenever I saw women like her, it made me want to cheat so badly.
“Ashley,” she said, introducing herself with a friendly smile and a youthful, sweet voice.
“John,” I replied, smiling back. Her blue eyes were unique, as clear as a summer sky. Even though I was sure she was naturally pretty, she wore makeup. Burgundy lipstick, long lashes, and a touch of blush on her cheeks.
My cock twitched already.
“So, what do you think so far?” she asked, stepping aside to give me a clear view of the property.
Right. I was here to buy a property, not flirt with a young woman.
I took in the beachfront estate, complete with a private pier for a yacht.
I let my gaze travel over the property as Ashley waited beside me. The house sat right on the water, all clean lines and glass, designed to pull the ocean inside. The windows reflected the sun, and a wide terrace wrapped around the back, opening straight onto the sand. Beyond it, the private pier stretched into the water, clearly meant for someone who owned more than just a modest boat.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Ashley said. She glanced at me instead of the house, watching my reaction. “The previous owner spared no expense. Italian marble floors, a chef’s kitchen, and the master bedroom open straight onto the terrace. Waking up to that view every morning never gets old.”
She stepped a little closer as she spoke, angling her body toward mine. When I looked at her, she was smiling, her eyes lingering just a beat longer than necessary.
“I can see why my wife liked the photos,” I said, trying to keep my tone neutral, though my attention kept drifting back to her.
Ashley laughed. “Photos don’t really do it justice. You kind of have to experience it in person.” She tossed a lock of red hair over her shoulder. “I always say a place like this feels different when the right person walks through it.”
She led me toward the entrance, her hips swaying naturally with each step, and when I stepped back, I saw her plump butt. Before opening the door, she glanced back at me over her shoulder. “And you,” she said, “definitely look like someone who belongs here.”
“Why’s that?”
“You look like the kinda guy with money.”
We exchanged smiles. She wasn’t mistaken.
The foyer opened into a grand entrance with soaring ceilings and that promised Italian marble gleaming beneath our feet. Ashley reached for a tablet from her leather portfolio.
“I’ve prepared all the details here,” she said, then frowned as she dropped a pen.
She bent down to pick it up, her skirt riding up to reveal the creamy skin of her thighs and the curve where they met her ass. The position was held for a couple of seconds before she straightened, pen in hand.
“Sorry about that,” she said, not looking sorry at all.
I wasn’t sure why, but I suspected she’d flashed me on purpose.
As we moved to the kitchen, Ashley gestured toward the island countertop. “This is Carrara marble imported directly from Italy. Feel the smoothness.”
She leaned forward across the island, her blouse gaping open as she stretched. The swell of her breasts pressed against the fabric, creating a view I couldn’t look away from.
“The grain is quite remarkable,” she said, eyes flicking up to catch me staring.
“It sure is,” I said, running my hand on the marble, although in my fantasy it was her chest instead.
In the living room, her heel caught on the edge of an area rug. She stumbled forward with a cry. Instinctively, I reached out, catching her against my chest. Her breasts pressed firmly against me, her face inches from mine.
“Great catch,” she said, making no immediate move to step away. Her body was warm against mine, soft and sensual in all the right places.
“Careful,” I said, reluctantly letting her go.
“I can be a bit clumsy, sorry,” she said with a titter. “Let me show you the balcony. The view is absolutely breathtaking … And I’ll also get you something.”
Outside, the Atlantic stretched endlessly before us. Ashley disappeared briefly, returning with two glasses of champagne.
“We should celebrate your potential new home,” she said, handing me a glass. As she moved closer, her hand jerked slightly, splashing champagne across her chest. The liquid darkened spots on her blouse, clinging to the curves beneath.
“Oh!” she said. “I’m so clumsy. Would you mind?” She gestured to the napkin on the tray. “My nails make it impossible to blot properly.”
I took the napkin and then pressed it gently against the damp fabric covering her breasts. I could feel her nipple harden beneath my touch and see her tits jiggle. They were, without doubt, natural, otherwise they wouldn’t jiggle like that.
“Thank you,” she murmured, a rosy blush spreading on her cheeks. “Much better.”
We moved to the sun loungers positioned to maximize the ocean view. Ashley sighed, tugging at her blouse.
“It’s so hot out here,” she said, undoing the top button of her blouse. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” I replied, my eyes widening slowly. “It is quite warm.”
The additional skin exposed drew my eyes like a magnet. She wore a white top underneath, her natural breasts straining against the garment like two soft mounds. She knew a lot, although she looked so young. “How long have you been a real estate agent? You seem very young.”
She smiled, crossing her legs slowly to reveal more of her thighs. “I’m twenty-one. Just started last year, working for my mother’s company. She’s been in the business forever.”
Everything about her, the way she moved, how she used her body to tease and entice, seemed too practiced for someone so young. Yet her actions spoke of experience beyond her years.
“You’re very good at what you do,” I said.
“Thank you.” Her smile widened. “So, what do you think of the property?”
“It’s impressive, but honestly, it’s above my budget. I’d need the price to come down at least fifteen percent to consider it.”
Ashley’s expression shifted to something more businesslike. “Let me call the owner and see what I can do.”
She stepped away, phone to her ear. I watched her as she spoke, her body language shifting from seductive to professional. After several minutes, she returned, sighing dramatically.
“He’s being stubborn. Says he knows what the property is worth.” Her eyes traveled over me appraisingly. “Though, looking at you, that suit, those shoes, you seem like the kind of man who makes a lot of money. Am I right?”
The heat that had been simmering inside me rose further. “Yes, I do well for myself.”
“I thought so.” She smiled, moving closer. “Maybe if you tried something else, you might change your mind about the price.”
“What exactly did you have in mind?”
“Maybe the bed? It would give you a better sense of what this house has to offer.” She paused, her voice dropping lower. “And what I have to offer.”
I blinked, caught off guard by her directness despite all the previous signals. “What do you mean?”
Ashley rose from her lounger and extended her hand to me. “Would you like to come to the bedroom with me?”
Every rational thought told me to decline, to remember my pregnant wife waiting at home. But my body was already standing, my hand taking hers. It happened that I couldn’t stop myself from thinking with my dick.
“Yes.”
As we walked through the house, she glanced at me. “Will this help you make a decision about the house?”
I couldn’t help but flirt back. “Depends on your sales skills.”
She laughed. “I assure you, my mother taught me well.”
Damn, I wondered what kind of kinky family she’d grown up with.
The master bedroom was as impressive as the rest of the house. But I barely registered the view as Ashley turned to me, her fingers already working on the remaining buttons of her blouse.
“The most important feature of any bedroom,” she said, letting the blouse fall open. Then she took off her top, revealing a black bra beneath, “is how comfortable you feel in it.”
My wedding ring felt heavy on my finger, but not heavy enough to stop me from stepping toward her.
“You know,” she said, stepping closer with a glint in her eyes, “this would be my first official sale. I really want to make my mom proud.”
I smiled, reaching out to push her red hair behind her ear. “Trust me, you’re definitely making your mother proud right now.”
She giggled, the sound innocent despite our situation. Her fingers moved to the clasp of her bra, unhooking it. It fell to our feet, revealing her boobs, round and perky, with pale pink nipples. They sat high on her chest, defying gravity in a way that only youth could achieve, and they also had a natural cleavage, tight enough to catch a pen.
“What do you think of my titties?” she asked, hands moving to her skirt.
“Beautiful.”
Smiling, she unzipped her pencil skirt and let it pool around her ankles. Her creamy white skin seemed to glow in the sunlight streaming through the windows. Her thighs were smooth and toned, tapering to shapely calves. She hooked her thumbs into her black panties and slid them down, revealing a completely shaven pussy. I loved how her labia were completely symmetrical and blooming out like a flower. She glistened, natural lubricants. My wife had to use lube now and then, reminding me that she wasn’t a youth any longer.
“My God,” I whispered, drinking in her beauty. This kind of youthful perfection had seemed unattainable to me for years, something I’d only glimpse in magazines or fantasize about. Yet here she was, standing before me, real and within reach, and wet and horny on top of it.
She closed the distance between us, pressing her naked body against my clothed one. I could already feel her warmth seep into my skin. I pressed my lips to hers, soft and plump, tasting of champagne and cherry lip gloss. I ran my hands down her back, marveling at how smooth her skin felt, like silk beneath my fingertips, without a single blemish or imperfection.
“Your turn,” she murmured against my mouth, her nimble fingers finding my belt buckle.
Before I could respond, she was on her knees, my pants and boxers pushed down to my thighs, and my cock towering over her cute face. I saw her dimples as she smiled at my cock. Then, she took me into her mouth, her technique immediately impressive. The wetness, the depth, and the complete absence of teeth … she worked me with a skill that defied her years, taking me deeper than I thought possible as her lips stretched like rubber bands.
“Fuck, you’re amazing,” I said with a groan, threading my fingers through her red hair and thrusting my hips forward to push more of my cock down her throat.
She opened wider, sliding me over her tongue till her lips touched the root. Damn, she could even deepthroat. I wondered how her mother had taught her this, the thought itself making me twitch in her mouth.
She looked me in the eyes as she bobbed her head rapidly, making these obscene sucking sounds. I moaned in pleasure as she left lipstick marks all over my shaft.
Then, she pulled back, looking up at me with those sexy blue eyes, a string of saliva connecting her lips to my cock. “Gosh, you’re talented.”
“Thanks,” she giggled. “My mother always said proper technique is everything in business and pleasure.” She winked before taking me back into her mouth.
The comment should have disturbed me, but my brain was too fogged with lust to process anything beyond the sensation of her warm, youthful mouth.
She released me with a pop and stood, backing toward the king-sized bed. “Come here,” she beckoned, sprawling across the white comforter, legs spread wide open.
I took off the rest of my clothes and joined her, positioning myself between her thighs with my wet crown pressed against her swollen lips. I ran a finger along her symmetric slit, marveling at how wet she already was.
When I pushed inside her, I nearly lost my mind. She was tight, wet, and hot, the perfect combination. Her inner walls gripped me like nothing I’d ever felt before, and she felt so snug and soft. It must’ve been the best pussy I’d ever felt.
“Jesus Christ,” I murmured, holding still to avoid ending things embarrassingly quickly.
“Go on, fuck me,” she said, wrapping her legs around my waist.
I fucked her, each stroke better than the last. There were so many sensations … the visual of my cock disappearing into her young body, the sounds of her moans, and the scent of sex filling the room. My wedding ring glinted in the sunlight as I gripped her hips, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
Her back arched as she came, her inner muscles clenching around me in all the right places. Ten more fucks, and I pushed all the way to the hilt with a sweet moan. I emptied myself inside her, not even considering protection as I flooded her youthful pussy with torrents of hot cum.
She let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, that felt nice.”
Afterward, I collapsed beside her. She turned to me with a satisfied smile, and I leaned over to kiss her, tasting myself on her tongue.
“So,” I said, finally catching my breath, “go get those papers. I’ll sign.”
Her eyes widened. “Really? You’ll buy it?”
“After that? How could I say no?”
She squealed with delight, jumping off the bed and quickly dressing while cum trickled down her inner thighs. I watched her, admiring how she transformed back into the professional real estate agent, though now I knew what lay beneath.
When everything was signed, she wrapped me in a warm hug. “My mom will be so proud,” she told me.
I gave her ass a final squeeze before parting. “She has all the right reasons to be … you’ve been a good girl.”
Twenty minutes later, I was driving home, the signed purchase agreement in my briefcase. The reality of what I’d done settled over me. I’d cheated on my pregnant wife. I should have felt guilt, remorse or bad. But all I felt was satisfaction, a lingering pleasure that outweighed any moral qualms.
The memory of Ashley’s body, her skills, her youth and beauty … it was worth it. I’d have to come up with an explanation for the sudden house purchase, but I’d figure that out. Maybe I’d even arrange a private viewing with Ashley before my wife saw the place, just to “finalize some details.”
As I pulled into my driveway, I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror, straightening my tie and wiping away a smudge of burgundy lipstick from my collar. I practiced my smile, the one that would show my wife how excited I was about our new dream home.
No regrets … none at all.
The end.
If you’d like to support my writing, you can purchase full-length incest novels with deeper storytelling and stronger character development here: Incest Books
Or if you want to read similar stories, click here: Incest Stories