Peg-O-My-Heart - Part 6

With another successful sale under her belt and a fair amount of commission dollars in her pocket, Peg goes back to her normal routine. Acquire another property, have the lawn cleaned up, toss around a few extra throw pillows, and put out the 'Open House' signs. This time, however, instead of a handwritten 'clothing optional' signboard, she's had some professionally made.

Sure, the neighbors around the last couple of houses were less than enthused with Peg's sales tactics...several even going so far as to call the authorities. Most were just pissed at having lines of strange cars lining their street...blocking driveways and whatnot...but a small few took issue with the goings on inside. With the shades drawn and nothing 'immoral' visible from the street, technically speaking she wasn't doing anything illegal...and therefore, little the authorities could do about it.

Most real estate agents, upon seeing a local news crew show up, would have cowered inside, yelling 'No comment!" through a partially cracked door...right before slamming it shut. Peg, on the other hand, clad in her best business attire...with just the right amount of cleavage showing...embraced her uninvited guests. The matter-of-fact, muck-raking, blonde of a reporter came at her with the stereotypical alligator smile. Peg saw her for exactly what she was...a junior newswoman looking to make a name for herself...and turned the interview into nothing short of five minutes of prime-time advertising.

With the extra interest came a lot more people, most of whom had little interest in looking at the homes. For every ten potential customers maybe one or two were actually looking to purchase, the remainder simply wanting to ogle Peg's derriere as she strutted around wearing next to nothing...or, in most cases, nothing at all.

To that end, Peg had to add an addendum to her new signage... 'By Appointment Only'.

As usual, using the home's amenities to her full advantage, Peg lays out by her newest commission's near Olympic-sized pool. Licking the salt from the rim of her margarita glass, the full-figured woman pulls aside the barely-there breast coverings of her equally barely-there sling bikini so as not to leave any tan lines. As an afterthought, not that the tiny piece of fabric would leave much of a pale imprint, Peg hooks a finger underneath it's loin-cover to expose her freshly trimmed Brazilian.

Thoughts of her most recent sale enter her mind, specifically the housewarming party the young couple who'd purchased it had invited her to. True to the housewife's word, no sooner had Peg said her hellos and been offered a glass of wine...off came the clothes. Generally speaking, happy homeowners and their new dwellings are usually the center of attention at a housewarming party. By the end of the evening, her entire body crisscrossed with come, none of the dozen or so guests were paying much attention to the couple's new abode.

Setting the drink aside, the near-naked woman reclines back into her lounge chair, letting out a sigh of pure relaxation. Just as her fingers begin to migrate toward her uncovered mound, another headed for a stiffening nipple, the old-school corded telephone next to her rings.

Peg: (thinking) Goddammit.

Picking up the receiver, she answers with a cheery, albeit standard, professional greeting.

Peg: Thank you for calling Peg-o-My-Heart Realty, how may I help you today?

Peg instantly raises an eyebrow, a little smirk forming in the corner of her mouth. The male voice on the other end of the line, even with its obviously fake French accent and the staticky bag-phone connection, sounds very familiar.

Male Caller: Yes, hello. I would like to look at zee... How you say...? Zee propriété.

Peg: Uh-huh. I know it's you, Goofy.

Male Caller: Quoi? Who is this 'maladroit' person you speak of?

In the background Peg can hear a lawnmower running...the same lawnmower mowing her property's front lawn. Just as the caller is about to say something, an old jalopy backfires, Peg hears the same car backfire from the street out front. Peg smiles, biting the corner of her lower lip, twirling the curlicue phone cord around her finger... Why pleasure yourself when you can have someone else do it for you?

Peg: You're sitting out front, aren't you?

Male Caller: No, no... I am... How you say...? Français. Je ne comprends pas.

Peg: (giggling) Just come inside, silly.

Not even bothering to put on a robe, Peg walks through the house in her bikini, halfheartedly placing its minuscule coverings back into place. Opening the front door reveals a wide-eyed Goofy standing in the vestibule, caught half-reaching for the doorknob. The hound blinks repeatedly, blushing as he gives the shapely woman the once over, beads of sweat already forming on his brow.

Goofy: Well, garsh, Peggy. When you said 'clothing optional', you weren't kiddin'!

Peg: Do you have an appointment, sir?

Goofy merely stares at her, blinking, not expecting such an impersonal response. Peg looks over her neighbor's shoulder, scanning for any onlookers or members of the press. Seeing none, she grins at the dumbstruck hound, grabs him by the shirt collar, and playfully snatches him inside.

Goofy: Ah-h'yuck!

While Peg locks the door behind them, Goofy looks around the entryway of the multi-million dollar home, peering down the short, column-lined hallway into its huge great room. From the outside, it doesn't look that imposing, but from the inside....he looks overwhelmed.

Peg: So, do you want the full tour?

Goofy: Oh, Peggy. You know I can't afford all this.

Knowing full well that the in-and-out-of-work dog can barely afford his own mortgage, Peg gives him a sultry smile.

Peg: That's not what I'm asking you.

The real estate agent cocks her head to one side, looking downward as she suggestively runs the tip of her tongue between her teeth. Goofy makes a gulping noise followed by an exaggerated swallow, her intentions received loud and clear. If his theatrical response wasn't enough, then the monstrous bulge against his thigh certainly gave her the answer she was looking for.

Normally, starting a tour fully clothed...a full skirt suit, heels, stockings, and maybe even a garter belt...she could get through the entire house, wearing little but her underthings at the very end. With a few well-endowed exceptions, only those willing to go ahead with a purchase got to see (and/or partake in) the 'Full Monty'. Wearing only a micro bikini and a pair of kitten heels, Goofy will just have to settle for an abbreviated version.

Like any other potential customer, Peg walks from one room to another, pointing out the home's many features and amenities. In the kitchen, she slips the garment's spindly straps off her shoulders, draping an arm across her breasts...keeping the remainder of the skimpy swimsuit from simply falling to the floor.

Peg: ...it has plenty of spacious granite countertops, shaker-style cabinetry, all new appliances, and an eight burner stove and griddle combination. Plenty of room if you want to give that special someone 'the spatula treatment'.

Goofy merely blinks at her, the reference obviously lost on him.

Peg: Oh, by the way...

Peg turns to her sightseer with a devious grin, pointing in his general direction with a swirling finger.

Peg: 'Clothing optional'... That doesn't mean, just me.

Into the dining room, Goofy looks on as Peg 'stripper walks', popping her hips with every step, cheeks jiggling as she crosses the room. Reaching the giant table at its center, her back turned to the mesmerized hound, Peg lets go of the scant swimsuit, allowing it to fall to her ankles. Kicking her heels off to one side and then the other, she leans over, resting her hips against the expansive piece of wood.

Peg: This table dates to the time of Louis the Fourteen, seats twenty, and is at the perfect height for...

Peg pushes out her chest and flexes her lower back, accentuating her curvaceous hips and ample breasts. Just two rooms into their shortened home tour, Peg turns to look at the lanky mutt. Just when she's about to give him an enticing 'come hither' finger gesture, she instead lets out a burst of laughter. Taking her words quite literally, in the twenty feet and half as many seconds it takes to get from the kitchen to the dining room table, Goofy has managed to shed all of his clothes...right down to his Mickey Mouse themed socks.

Goofy grins at her, his own expansive piece of wood hovering over her posterior. Her laughter ceases, replaced by an 'Oooo!' of surprise, Goofy pushing her onto the table with one hand, his other guiding the head of what is easily fourteen inches of manhood against her sphincter.

An hour passes, then two, Peg vaguely aware that the doorbell has rung on multiple occasions...some of her potential buyers arriving for their appointments. Face down and splayed out across the table, her legs dangling, feet not quite touching the floor, she's forgotten how many times he's made her come. Three, four...she can't remember...her eyes going in and out of focus, Goofy's soup can diameter manhood buried in her ass, plunging into her again and again.

He's relentless, slowing only to grab a fistful of red hair. Peg grits her teeth, Goofy snatching her head back, her jouncing breasts coming off the table, now wobbling in circles beneath her. She can feel a fourth climax quickly welling up. ...or is this the fifth? Still can't remember. The lanky mutt slows, his hilt pressing hard against her splayed open ass cheeks...her tinge becomes a quiver.

One good, long thrust...then two...then three. Peg cries out, her waving voice producing something unintelligible as Goofy jams his black monster to the hilt one last time. A jolting climax curls her toes into fists, Peg clenching around what feels like gallons of come spasming into her. Soooo much come...so much she can almost taste it. Goofy finally letting go of her hair, she flumps back onto the table, her once neatly salon'd hair flayed out in all manner of directions.

The two of them reduced to a quivering pile, Goofy having collapsed onto her, the pair clamber for breath. Still buried inside her, Peg can finally feel him relaxing, warm ooze now running down the inside of her thighs...the back of her knees...dripping from the tips of her toes. Sooo much come.

Goofy:  S-s-say, Peggy? Doesn't this place have, like, a bazillion rooms?

Peg's eyes widen, her brain still full of post-climax fuzz, she blinks repeatedly having finally comprehended what he'd just said. So much for an abbreviated open house tour.

Original Sketch by CallMeWritefag

Colors and Edits by Phillipthe2