Around ten in the morning, there was a knock at my back door. I didn’t recognize what it was at first because, well, it was the back door. The knocking was loud and a bit insistent. Why didn’t they just come to the front?

I went to the back door at the kitchen and peeked through the curtain. The first thing I saw was a black hood, skin tight with only a hole for a mouth wearing bright red lipstick. The hood alarmed me at first. Maybe it was some sort of bizarre morning robbery, though the lipstick suggested otherwise.

Then I noticed the rest of the person. They wore a long red coat that I recognized from somewhere. The coat clung to their body and the obvious feminine curves underneath. Bright red heels covered their feet and I felt a moment of sympathy for what it must have taken to walk over my cracked sidewalk in these heels.

Weird, but kind of sexy.

I opened the door. The hooded woman smiled. I knew that smile but I couldn’t place where. My wife was at work and this was not remotely her style.

The woman had a card in her hand. She presented it to me, but her angle was off. That was when I noticed the hood had no eye holes or even slits. She was probably blind inside that hood.

I took the card. It was a Valentine’s Day card. The front said, “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Inside was blank except for a woman’s handwriting.

“Please do not ask my name.
Please do not remove my hood.
Please unwrap your present.
Please use my mouth.
Please use my cunt.
Please put your hand around my throat.
Please hurt my ass but don’t mark my tits.
Please return me to the porch by 4pm.”

It was signed, “Your Secret Valentine”

Huh. This was a first for me. I should have closed the door. Or, failing good marital sense, I should have at least brought my Secret Valentine inside.

What I did instead was reach for her coat. I undid the buttons as the woman bit her lip. Taking my time, I opened that bright red coat and unwrapped my present.

She wasn’t quite naked underneath but it was close. A lacy red bra held up lovely breasts. Red hearts stickers covered her skin. Matching red lace panties covered her sex. More heart stickers covered her thighs.

I hooked my fingers in her panties. My Valentine shuddered. I pulled on her panties and peeked. She was shaved and it looked recent. Lovely.

Wait, what was that on her hip? A small tattoo of a dolphin riding a rainbow adorned her skin. It was a good thing she was blind or else she would have seen me smile.

I knew that dolphin. This was Katie. She was in my wife’s book club. I followed her on Facebook. We had mad met several times at parties and vacations. I had seen this coat in pictures on social media. I had no idea she felt this way.

Well, I had a little suspicion, but just a little. I wonder what her husband thought of this. Or does he even know?

Yeah, not my problem.

I took my Valentine by the hand. “Come on in,” I said, “And mind the step.”

We left her coat by the kitchen door. Her bra I left on the counter. She kept her panties on as I ate her out on the living room couch but took them off before fucking her on the ottoman. Later, she rode me while I squeezed her throat.

It was a good start to a lovely day.

Dickmeat jacked his cock. It was okay. He was allowed to stroke, pump and edge his tool as much as he wanted. If he could find someone, he was even allowed to stick his thick rod into the mouth, ass or cunt of a willing slut.

The only hindrance was that he was only allowed to come if he was inside Mistress. Usually that was not a problem as Mistress’ slick pussy walls or tight mouth could squeeze the come right out of his cock in a matter of minutes. Usually.

This week was different. Dickmeat was on restriction. He was only allowed inside Mistress during her morning office break and then only for six strokes. That was it.

Restriction started three days ago. Dickmeat hadn’t climaxed since. He knew it was a myth but he swore his balls were swollen. His cock ached and longed for the sweet release of a climax.

That was why he was outside Mistress’ office. She worked from home and was currently on the phone with a coworker. The phone was on speaker and Dickmeat could hear the meandering conversation.

It was time for Mistress’ office break. She kept talking about return rates and points of contact. It didn’t seem to be wrapping up.

Dickmeat paused in his jacking to lick his hand. When the spit covered his cock, there was a slight wet sound that made him wince. He stroked a little slower, being careful to be quiet.

Mistress kept talking.

Dickmeat wondered if Mistress would skip her office break. She had done it before during other weeks but this week was his restriction. Would she deny him his one slim chance to come today?

Yes, Dickmeat realized. She would do it and not think twice about it.

There was a surge of tension. The thought of being denied pushed him to the edge. He let go of his cock like it was a live snake. If he came, oh sweet Jesus, it would mean the cock-cage for sure.

His cock twitched. He quickly grabbed his traitor tool and squeezed as hard as he could. The sudden pain was almost enough to make him come but the pressure on his cock was too tight. Slowly, the moment passed and Dickmeat was safe.

Wait? When did Mistress stop talking?

He peeked in the office. Mistress was standing up and bent over her chair. Her slacks were down by her ankles and her bare ass was exposed. In her hands, she was playing an online game on her phone. She was finally on break!

Dickmeat rushed into the office. He ignored the clock, not wanting to know how much time he had. It didn’t matter. All he had was six strokes.

He stepped behind her and took his dick in hand. Mistress’ pussy was so close but it might as well be a mile away if he didn’t get permission. A small whimper escaped his lips.

“You may,” Mistress said.

Dickmeat guided his restricted cock between her thighs, into her bush and deep into the slick grip of her divine pussy. Wet heat gripped his thick tool. The blessing of her cunt was around him once more.

Penetration counted as one stroke. It was cruel but true.

Dickmeat gently gripped Mistress’ hips. Tremors ran down his legs. He slowly pumped his hips.

Two. Three. Four.

It wasn’t going to happen. Dickmeat could tell. He had come too close earlier and the act of strangling his orgasm had set him too far back. If he had a few more minutes to get back to speed, then yes, maybe he could be ready to come inside Mistress and fill her sacred pussy with worshipper seed.

But it would not happen today.

Dickmeat kept thrusting. The honor of being inside Mistress was almost as good as an orgasm. And who knows? Maybe he would come in three more strokes after all?

He didn’t.

“We received 36 offers for your house,” the realtor said. “The highest offer is for forty thousand over your asking price. The second highest is twenty thousand over, but they are willing to pay cash which means we can close in a day if you want.”

“Holy shit,” I said. “I knew it was a seller’s market but this is crazy.”

“I also want to draw your attention to three more offers that are a bit more unconventional,” the realtor said. She passed me a portrait photo of an attractive blonde woman. It looked like a boudoir shot. The woman was wearing a red negligee with matching red lipstick. There was a knowing look in her eye that promised dirty things.

“This offer is ten thousand over your asking price, but it includes a one time offer of oral sex performed by the wife of the purchasing couple. Their offer includes the invitation to ejaculate in her mouth, on her face or on her breasts.”

I stared at my realtor. I didn’t think she had this dirty of a sense of humor. Her deadpan delivery was perfect.

“Is this for real?” I asked.

My realtor nodded. “Like I said, it is a very competitive market.”

“What the fuck are the other offers?”

The realtor passed me a set of small Polaroid pictures. They featured a black woman completely nude on a bed. She had lovely small breasts and a rather large bush of black hair. The things she was doing to a dildo was anatomically impressive.

“This offer comes from a couple who will be moving in with their adult daughter,” the realtor said. “The offer is for the asking price, but they are including the free use of their daughter for one day a month for twelve months, along with a lifetime subscription to the woman’s OnlyFans. Apparently, the daughter is in the top point six percent of content providers.”

I licked my lips. One photo showed incredible flexibility with her legs. “What does free use mean?”

“It simply means you can engage in sexual activity at your discretion. Though I do want to emphasize that it only applies for one day a month.”

“And there is a third offer?”

The realtor turned her laptop around to face me. There was a video of a curvy redhead wearing nothing but a leather collar around her neck. She was bent over a bench, sucking a masked man’s cock while a masked woman spanked her from behind.

“This offer is for ten thousand less than the asking price, but it includes the gift of a submissive woman who will be willing to live with you. The buying couple trains submissives for a living and this one owes them a personal favor of some sort. You will have full responsibility and use of their submissive for a three-year period with the exception of a two-week period during the Christmas holidays.”

I watched the video and took note of the attractive way the redhead wriggled within her restraints.

“Oh wow,” I whispered. “I see what you mean by a seller’s market.”

“Do you need time to consider which offer you want to accept?”

I looked at the photos in front of me. My mind went back to the highest offer that seemed so boring and dull in retrospect. The portrait with the blonde stared up at me, inviting me to ruin her makeup. The pictures of the black woman tempted me with sexual gymnastics. On the video, the redhead submitted to more debauchery. All the while, I weighed the temptations with the offset in purchasing price. There were my own expenses to consider.

“No need,” I replied. “I know which offer I am taking.”

Michael hated this part of the cleaning. He was tilted back at a fifty-degree angle with a bright light in his eyes. The plastic sunglasses the dental hygienist gave him blocked most of the light but the glasses sat uncomfortably against his nose. His mouth was wide open as the dental hygienist scrapped his teeth with a small metal tool. It felt like the sharp tool would poke his gums at any second.

“I have got to start flossing more,” Michael thought.

On the upside, Michael’s pants were open and a cute redhead had his erection in her warm mouth. Spit dribbled from her mouth and soaked his balls. A nimble tongue made slow circles around his dick.

The second woman didn’t wear the green scrubs that the hygienist did. She wore a fuzzy sweater pulled up so Michael could fondle her small breast with his right hand. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw her working at the receptionist desk earlier.

“Have a little bit of buildup right here,” the hygienist said. Michael felt her poke the back of his lower front teeth. “Make sure you don’t skip brushing here.”

“Ar-aih,” Michael said with his mouth open.

The redhead closed her lips around his dick. Her head bobbed up and down. She went nice and slow, letting him savor the moment.

The blowjob was unexpected but apparently it was part of the new medical plan. Michael was annoyed when his wife, Victoria, wanted to pay extra for Purple Cross and Pink Shield when Michael’s employers were more than happy to pay for the entirety of Gamma Medical, but holy shit, was he glad that he gave in. Victoria was right: you get what you paid for.

“Almost done,” the hygienist said.

“Take your time,” Michael thought. The redhead flicked her tongue against the tip of Michael’s dick. Could he come before the cleaning was done? Was climaxing guaranteed? He really needed to read the insurance policy when he got home.