Keep miscellaneous povs

-Please, come in.- You greet your first buyers as they enter, a middle-aged couple of medium beauty. They're fancy-dressed, or at least that's their intention: him wearing a lucid, blue business suit with a pink striped tie, a lot grease in his hair; her in a green button dress with a large hat and garish earrings; both in sunglasses too. More kitsch than elegant, but the clothes does not make the man, right?

-Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Brown, shall we begin our visit?-.

-That's why we're here.- The woman mumbles, then looks around: -Is this the living room? I thought it was larger.-.

Luckily for you, Jessica is a consummate professional: -The kitchen is very spacious, and previous owners used it as a prosecution of the living room.- since they had four kids, whilst these two not one. Just as a note.

-Speaking of which, why did they leave?- Asks her companion: -I've heard there were rats infestations in this neighborhood.-.

Well, that would mean they know more than your agency.

-I can assure you that's not the case.- You politely answer: -The wife had a working offer from another city.-.

-I was told this one had decent job opportunities.-.

-Dear, let's not waste more time. Miss, lead the way.-.

You smile cringing inside: -Follow me, please. As you have noticed, the living room...-.

-Kim!-.

You turn around, instantly recognizing that shrill voice. A brunette girl of your age, wearing a violet t-shirt and jeans leggings reaches you as you're entering the class. Awesome, like you have time for this.

-Cindy!- You joyfully greet your best friend, the same one you were chatting with Saturday evening before that happened.

-You didn't text me yesterday! And what have you done to your hair?- You vaguely remember she's always been jealous of your golden locks. Well, after all, she's a bit of blonde inside: you even suspect she's enrolled in this Uni only to follow you.

-Duh, I dyed it. Why, don't you like?-.

-Of course I do.- She answers with some uncertainty. You take place in the upper rows of the classroom, the professor (an elderly man) is still preparing his desk. You open your pc, quickly typing a password you didn't know until two days ago.

After the first five minutes, you're already bored. You try to communicate with your most recent (how should you call it? Clone? Child? No, sounds too old) clone, but only silence answers you. Why does it take so long?

You groan, lowering your head in defeat. Next to you, Cindy has a face that says: "What the hell I'm listening to?", confirming your previous decision about not possessing her too.

-Sir, can you repeat that again?- Comes a voice from the front sits. A girl has raised her hand, some Mexican four-eyes called... uh... well, surely she has a name. Mmm, she's posing a good question. Maybe you should add her to your list, but then you should act before the end of the lessons.

"Or I could just wait. That dumb secretary will finish... sooner or later.".

The girl quickly types the answer given. Whatever your choice might be, she has no idea of the imminent danger upon her. Though, with that attire, it would be more of a favor.

You walk conspicuously down the hall, attracting everyone's attention: of boys, whose eyes lay sometimes on your thighs, sometimes on your hips, sometimes in other, more interesting points; of girls, who act shocked at your atypical appearance; of teachers, who give you disapproving stares. Who could have thought that poor, innocent Tina Harris would ever dress like this, at school furthermore? You're basking in their gazes, and your ladybits are already getting wet.

You locate an open locker and, behind it, you recognize "your" friend Heather's legs. When she sees you, she's bewildered. After all, she's the type of girl who wears a uniform even if your school does not require it.

-Tina! You, you, what happened to you?-.

As Tom, you've met her once or twice, and you've never seen her this close. Her modesty makes her adorable, her soft voice is like a sweet melody.

-What are you talking about... Heather?- You play dumb, aspirating her name.

-Your clothes! Why... you've never...-.

-What?- You wink provocatively.

-Has anyone done this to you? Was it your sister? I have a spare change for emergencies in my closet, let me...-.

-Heather, Heather, calm down.- You put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her: -No one did this to me, I wanted to try something new. You know, I simply woke up this morning and felt like a new person!-.

-But... but...- Oh God, she's so shy and cute! You have to call all your mental strength to you to keep your nipples in check or they would sprout out of your top. You gently touch her cheek: -It's okay, I swear. I'm just showing my body more. You do like my body, don't you?-.

She becomes pink and you laugh.

-Relax, I'm messing with you!-.

-Y-Yes, let's go.- You watch her speed to the classroom. She tried to hide it, but you've beheld a glimpse in her eyes that has nothing to do with friendship.

"I'm messing with you... maybe.".

You snort, resting for a moment on the sofa. The last buyer was pretty exhausting and it turned into nothing. Like everyone else before; you're just glad you don't have to see the first couple ever again, after they boasted numerous fictional flaws. Now only one remains, which is... you don't have time to check since a car parks outside. You spy from the window.

Mom's memories recognize the middle-aged man walking toward the door, his name is Thomas Smith. You remember his wife too, a strict woman who, you suspected, mistreats him. As an estate agent, you've learned to profile a person, and he's a poor bastard stuck in a toxic marriage, but irreversibly addicted to his wife.

"I think I know how to convince him." You reason with a smirk. You adjust your tits and open the door. From the way you greet each other, you have confirmation of his stressed state of mind. Perfect. You distend your arm inviting him inside, and you sneakily close the front door. Just as a precaution.

-As you can see, the living roo-oh!!!- You pretend to trip with your heels, falling right on his arms, your bosom pressing onto his shirt.

-Oh my God, I'm sorry!-.

-No need...- He mumbles, helping you get back on your feet. However, you have different plans.

-What a strong grip, Mr. Smith. Your wife is a lucky woman.- You say with a hint of malice.

-I, uh, she is I guess-

-Well.- You stand up again: -Let's start.-.

You walk in front of him, making sure to grab his attention with your nice ass, made evident by a sudden and unnatural narrowing of your skirt. Plus, whilst you're talking, you gesticulate more than normal, in order to caress your curves with quick and imperceptible movements of the hands.

-That wall is empty now, but previous owners had filled it with paintings. In fact, it's very... spacious. That one, on the other side, has just that little window but they intended to make it... larger. It was a great idea in my opinion... the biggest windows are the best.-.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see that Thomas isn't looking at the walls very much. You then point at the table in the center of the room, leaning forward and giving him a large, big window on your butt.

-Solid mahogany wood, a gift for the next tenants. Firm and smooth... some good sight, right?-.

You turn around and he jolts ashamed.

-P-Pretty good, yeah.-.

-They used to play family games on it. The wife sat here...- You sit on the couch and tap the near spot: -The husband here, and the kids on the other side. Actually, they continued to play even after the children had gone to bed...-.

You pause at his gulp. You tempt him with your eyes.

-Do you think the Lady would like?-.

-I... I don't... she's not into... family games...-.

-Oh, shame indeed. I bet you would be a great player.- You settle more comfortably, letting out a sensual moan. He is red and sweating like a fountain. You then proceed to unbutton your blouse, slowly, teasingly.

-M-Mrs...-.

-No need to be this formal, call me Jess. After all, many people die from domestic incidents. You probably saved my life before.-.

-It was nothing, really...-.

-Nonsense, Thomas.- You discard your shirt. His eyes widen, transfixed on your bra clasped knockers.

-I owe you a favor. Let me repay you.- You give yourself a squeeze, smirking knowingly.

-I... can't...-.

He finally turns around and goes for the door, finding it closed. Meanwhile, you got rid of your skirt and you started to tickle your lingerie, your head reclined on the pillow.

-W-Where is the key?-.

In response, you lift your perfect legs and shake your ankles, moving your panties upward. Then you use your feet as a slingshot to throw them away.

-The key? Who knows...- You purr, massaging your moist, exposed twat. He catches the suggestion, you can read it onto his face. Your bra is the last weir that crumbles down.

You're naked, masturbating on the couch of a house you have to sell, with your buyer looking at you mesmerized. You feel awesome. And you feel even better when Thomas finally grab your thigh and plunges his shaft inside.

-Mmm! Awn! Like this, Tommy-boy! Fuck mommy hard!!!~ It's easier and kinkier if you picture him as a grown-up version of your son. Thomas, for his part, doesn't say anything, but his thrusts intensify. Years of neglection pour out in the following five minutes, you change positions twice, until his semen erupts filling your cervix.

Shame that you didn't get to cum, although it has been pretty pleasurable. You see that the table was overthrown during the action, and you rest on the couch once again. You both pant for a minute, then Thomas realizes what you've done.

-I, I, oh no! It's terrible! My wife, I've cheated on her! She can't ever find out!-.

-Relax, hon-I mean, Mr. Smith. This can be our secret, if you accept to buy this house. At a subsidized price, of course.-.

He freezes, but he can do nothing but accept. You redress and prepare the papers, but before giving them you write something.

-Here's my number.-.

-But... I already have it.-.

-Oh no silly, that's my work phone. This is my personal number.- You approach and whisper in his ear: -Keep the couch, I want it again next time.-.

-N-Next time?-.

You leave him like this, take the keys from your pocket and go out the door. As you're closing it, you think that you'll like this job.

-Uff! I'm spent!- Cindy complains, while you immediately stand up and search for the nerd.

-Hey, have you understood the thing abo-

-Do you know what's her name? The smartass chick, I mean.-.

-Uh? You mean Maria?-.

Maria... yes, that's her.

-Do you know where she's gone?-.

-I guess to the bathroom, why, what's-

-See you later.- You stride away, headed for the restroom. Empty? Shit, you've missed her?

But here comes a toilet flush and, after a few seconds, Maria comes out of a stall.

"Jesus, I hope her lack of style isn't contagious.".

-Hi Maria!- You greet her in a sappy way while she's washing her hands. She looks at you with suspicion, since you've never spoken to each other.

-Hi... Kim, right?- She asks with a nasal, thick accent.

-Yes. I'd like to compliment you on your hair! I see you dyed them blond, like mine were before.-.

-Oh... thanks, but I didn't really think about you.- She replies, not understanding where this conversation is going. Definitely, you're not compatible persons on paper, and you're suspiciously complacent.

-Of course, you don't need my help with your look! But, in case you change your mind, I just want to tell you that I'm available, whenever you want. It's my forte after all!-.

-Sure.- She politely smiles at your own smile, maybe lowering her guard just a little: -Same for me, if you need help with your study, just ask. Now excuse me, I have to go.- She moves toward the door, but you get in the way.

-Hold on just a second, Maria. Since we're friends now, would you like a snack?- You offer what looks like a chocolate bar from the machines. It would be easier to repeat what you did with the secretary, but someone could enter at any time.

She looks at your gift doubtfully and raises her palm to push it away: -Thanks Kim, but I have to refuse.-.

You flick with your lips.

-Come on, it's not poisoned or anything!-.

-I know, but I'm on diet. Sorry, take a rain check.- She then surpasses you and exits the restroom.

You get stunned for a moment, then tighten your grip on the snack by reabsorbing it in your hand.

-Diet. Sure. Like a diet could cure prudeness!- You blurt. Another stall opens, and a girl looks at you disconcerted. You eye her deadly.

-What???-.

Another lesson ends, and you close your exercise book with a satisfied smirk. After all, you've already done it just last year, it's just a review to you. Heather can't say the same, but she seems a smart girl. Once again, you feel the eyes of your class inspecting you: surely some jock is fantasizing about laying his hands on your ass, or even somewhere else~

You wonder if the school will change rules about clothing after today, since every single professor made a priceless expression seeing you, but couldn't do anything in concrete. Well, you hope they don't - you've never felt this good before. It's as if their stares touch you right there, where they settle.

A shadow covers you and a nagging voice makes you lift your head: -You know Tina, I've always thought your sister was the whore of the family, but maybe I was wrong.-.

You frown: Melissa's (that's the class bitch's name) insult never scraped Tina, but she's insulting your family too! However, you don't want to give her the satisfaction of seeing you upset, and you smile back.

-Only fools don't change their minds. You know something about it, right?-.

She blanks, not expecting such a reaction coming from "you". Neither do Heather, who gasps incredulous.

-What did you say you slut?- Melissa snorts. You open your mouth to answer back, but your friend jumps on her feet with a cute pout on her visage.

-Melissa, stop taunting her!-.

-Oh, now the classy bitch is growling for her master? Sorry luv, but you can't buy your way out this time.-.

Heather sits down mortified. You feel the urge to punch Melissa on her thin nose, but somehow you contain yourself.

-Don't worry Heather, she's just disheartened that she hasn't got much to show, even if she wanted to. Poor Melissa! Wasn't your boyfriend the guy in the corridor who couldn't take his eyes off my hips? Or was it my legs maybe?-.

Melissa winces livid, around you someone blows a: -Uhh!-. The three of you now realize that the entire class is watching. The A-sized redhead grimaces and shoves off, and everyone goes back waiting for the last teacher of the day to arrive.

Heather, yet, is still mopish and has shiny eyes. As Melissa mentioned, she comes from a rich family, but she has never flaunted it: on the contrary, sometimes she even seems guilty about it. Her parents wanted to send her to the most prestigious schools, but she always insisted not to; she even hid her social status the first few times you met, when you were in elementary school. She hasn't got many friends because people tend to avoid her, basing on prejudices, and she really suffers from it.

-Thanks for earlier. I know you're not used to raising your voice.- You say sympathetically.

-I'm lucky to have you as my best friend.-.

-Th-Thanks.- She sobs.

-Come on, don't be sad. Where is the cheerful girl I love? Hey, how about I come to your house this afternoon?-.

-Uh... that would be nice.- She gives you a shy smile. Your pussy twitches for such beauty. At this moment, however, the teacher enters and the lesson begins.

-That's all for today, see you tomorrow.- The professor says, closing his laptop. You absently watch the line of students form in front of the desk, but Jeremy calls you and you join him outside.

-Thanks for the papers man.-.

-No need dude.- His expression spaces out and his eyes wander behind you; you don't need to look to know who just passed by.

-Vanessa Johnson?-.

-Yeah... she'll be mine someday.-.

-Bud, she's out of your...- You stop, after all you can't really say anything anymore about this topic.

-Whatever, I'll text you later.-.

-Ok.- He answers back, still half-charmed. Then he approaches a bin and throws a spray can. A spray can? Wait, he skipped part of the last hour, does it have anything to do with this?

-Jeremy, where did you go before?-.

-Uh? Me? Nowhere in particular.- But his grin says something else entirely. And here's that you hear, yelling from the campus parking, a feminine voice well known to you.

-MY CAR!!!-.