Sharla and Sam lived just a few blocks from me. They were good friends, as far as friends go. Then Sam got a job in Sheboygan, Wisconsin. I hated to see Sam move, because I had spent many a day sitting on Sam and Sharla’s patio, which had a pool that overlooked the 17th fairway of a local golf course.

Sharla messaged me and said that she was going to ask a friend she knew in the real estate business to sell their house, but that the friend was more of an acquaintance than a real friend. Sharla asked if I would go by their house and check on it once a twice a week to make sure no one did anything untoward to tank the sale.

“Only if I can skinny dip in your pool.” I jokingly replied.

“Help yourself,” Sharla messaged back, “Just know the neighbors might be watching.”

The first couple of times over to the house was weird seeing what a home had been now standing as an empty shell of a house, for sale. I sat out by the pool several minutes, reminiscing back on days gone by. It was a Friday afternoon, late in the summer and it was hot. The pool called out to me.

So, I stripped down to my bikini underwear and slipped into the cool waters of the pool. I swam a few laps and then I leaned up against one of the sides of the pool, wishing my god friends had not moved. Suddenly, I saw a figure entering the pool areas from the house. I froze, realizing my underwear was not really swimwear and would very likely expose my greatest treasure.

The agent looked my way and asked, “Who are you and what are you doing in the pool?”

I introduced myself and said that I was a friend of Sharla and Sam and that they had given me permission to look after the house. The agent looked astonished, judging from her crossed arms and appearance.

“Well, I’ll have to check this out,” she said as he stammered out of the pool area ad back into the confines of thr house, obviously perturbed at finding me swimming lounging about in the pool.  I quickly exited the pool and slipped back into my clothes. As I entered the empty house, I heard her talking on the phone.

“Well,” she said, into her phone, “You could have told me. I am your realtor”

I quickly deduced from the conversation that she had reached either Sam or Sharla. My phone buzzed and it was Sam.

“Are you at the house?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. “I went for a swim and I don’t think the real estate agent liked it.”

“Fuck her,” Sam jokingly replied, “Not literally, I mean, just ignore her. She can be a bit of a snoot and a bitch.”

I laughed because the real estate agent was standing just a few feet away from where I was standing, and I was pretty sure she could hear our conversation. I looked at the agent, a thirty-something fairly atrractive and decent looking woman. I proffered a very pronounced wink.

“Sure,” I replied to Sam. “We’re going to go share some drinks.”

Sam laughed. He knew I was joking, and he also knew my penchant for taking on challenging adventures. Sam and I were blood brothers from different mothers.

“Give my bests to Sharla,” I said.

Good luck with Angela," Sam said, ending our call. 

I looked at the real estate agent, who by now was thumbing through her text messages. Like I said, she was cute. I had to try and figure out a way to get to know her a little better.

“My name is Scott,” I said, looking her way.

“Angela Simpkins,” she replied, handing me her real estate business card.

“Can I ask a favor?” she pressed.

“Sure,” I replied.

“If you can tell me when you’re going to be here, so I don’t walk in with a prospective buyer, it would be most appreciated.”

“Well,” I replied. “My schedule is pretty spur-of-the-moment, but usually I’m by here, twice a week during the afternoons. I skinny dip on Wednesdays.”

“I’ll make sure I don’t come by on Wednesdays,” she dutifully and matter-of-factly replied.

Ouch.

“Not a skinny-dipper, I presume,” I replied.

“I am a businessperson, first and foremost,’ she shot back.

“Even a businessperson has to let her hair down every now and then,” I said.

“I do,” she replied. Ahh, a crack in the door. I seized on it.

“How long have you been a relator?” I asked.

“Too long,” she replied. “It gets old after a while.”

I could sense she was in a profession she didn’t really enjoy.

“I guess those five per cent commissions aren’t that glamorous,” I noted.

“Try two and three per cent,’ she replied. “Its not exactly a good market right now.”

I spied a wine bottle and two glasses sitting at the bar.

“How about a drink?” I replied.

“That’s for show,” she replied.

“Oh, come on,” I replied. “I’ll bring by a replacement bottle in the morning.”

I stepped over to the bar. I reached in the first drawer and pulled out a corkscrew. In quick fashion, I had disengaged the cork, with a shallow pop. I poured the sweet red wine into the two glass goblets. I turned to hand her one of the glasses.

“I can’t drink while I’m working,” she said.

“Then, consider yourself off work and chill a bit,” I said. She stared silently at the wine goblet in my hand, thinking.

“Come on,” I pressed, “take a load off your feet, let your hair down, take it easy for once. You work hard, you deserve a break.”

She took in a deep breath and then forcefully exhaled.

“God,” she said, taking the charged wine goblet from my extended hand, “I hope I don’t regret this.”

“You won’t,” I said, raising my glass to proffer a toast.

“Here’s to a quick sale and a good return,” I said. We touched wine glasses and I proffered another very pronounced wink as we each took a sip.

“Come on,” I said, nodding my head, “let's sit on the patio.”

Without questioning, she dutifully, followed me back out to the pool area and the patio, where we each took up seats by the pool.

“it’s a nice house and it should sell fast,” I noted.

“I hope so,” she said, taking another sip from the wine glass she held in her hand.

“So how long have you known Sharla and Sam,” I pressed.

“A couple of years,” she replied, “I live across the street.”

Then, suddenly, it dawned on me, who she was. Sam had told me about her: A divorcee, who got caught cheating on her husband. Two kids and a dog. Always drunk and a super sexy flirt.

“Sam and I are,” I started to say, before catching myself, “were- golfing and drinking buds.”

“I think Sharla mentioned you to me,” she said. Damn, I hope it was in good standing.

“She said Sam had a friend who was a gigolo"."

“That’s my evil twin,” I jokingly replied. “Did she really say that?”

“Yes,” she said, “But, she could have been talking about anyone.”

“I guess there are worse things in life to be,” I shot back.

“Yeah,’ she replied, “I don’t why real estate comes to mind.”

We chatted about how she found her way into real estate, after having gone through a nasty divorce and needing some steady income. I pressed her about her divorce, but she opted to simply say some bad decisions were made and that she was now happy to have it behind her. I poured her a second glass of wine. She slipped out of her stiletto-heeled pumps. She caught me staring at her bare legs.

“You know,” she said, “I can certainly appreciate that you like my legs, but your staring is freaking me out a little bit,” she declared.

I quickly apologized.

“You’re a very attractive woman,” I noted. “My apologies for mentally undressing you.”

She turned a few shades of red and politely scolded me, saying “Behave.”

“I’m trying,” I replied. I blamed the wine and the afternoon heat for my indiscretions. She fanned herself with her hand and agreed. Looking at the pool, she blurted out that it looked so inviting.

“I’m half tempted to take you up on the skinny-dipping offer,” she divulged, adding, “Only I’d have call it chunky dipping.”

“Oh pullease,” I shot back, “You? Chunky dipping? That would be me, not you.”

“No,” she shot back, “You’re far from chunky.”

“Not really,” I replied, patting my abdomen. I had a good start on a midlife beer belly.

“It’s not the size of the tool shed that matters,” she replied, “it’s the tools under the shed.”

Now it was my turn to blush. The wine was working. inhibitions be damned. 

I silently toe-to-heel removed my tennis shoes, stood up and slipped out of my t-shirt, dropping my shirt on to my chair. I stripped out of my jeans, fully aware that my raging hard-on would be barely hidden by my bikini brief underwear. I dove head-first into the pool. My bikini briefs slipped from me and floated lazily in the pool waters, as I surfaced. I went in search of them, but was distracted by movement on the side of the pool. 

I looked over at my guest and said, “Come on. Have some fun for once. Let your hair down, You can sell houses tomorrow.”

To my surprise, my new rela easte friend silently stood up and slipped out of her black leather miniskirt, stepping out of it, as she unbuttoned her satin white button-down blouse. Her 38-d cup breasts were neatly tucked away in a lacy push-up bra. She unpinned her pinned up blonde hair, allowing it to fall gently on to her shoulders.

“I’ll probably regret this,” she said, as she sat down on the side of the pool and edged her curvaceous body into the cool waters. She found my bikini underwear floating in the water and sheepishly asked if I had lost something.

“Yeah,” I said as I waded towards where she stood with my underwear in hand.

She tossed my underwear on to the pool deck.

“Why did you do that?” I asked.

“Just for the fun of it,” she replied, with a sheepishgrin, shaking her head back and forth.

“Let’s hope the neighbors don’t call the police on a naked man scaring the hell out of her kids.”

“It’s a private back yard,” I replied. “The police won’t do anything.”

I pulled myself up on the side of the pool, my raging hard on, arching upwards towards my belly.

“Damn!” she called out at the sight of my raging hard on. “You’re going to get us busted.”

She slowly sauntered over to where I was situated on the side of the pool, slipping between my parted legs, looking up at me.

“It looks like we have something going on here that might need addressing,” she said softly, her eyes locking on to my nine-inch stiffy, as she placed her hands on to my thighs. The water lapped just under her bra-covered breasts. She reached behind herself and unfastened her bra, allowing it to float away, freeing up her gorgeous 38ds. She lightly teased her nipples with between a thumb and a forefinger, making them stand out.

“Nice boobs,” I complimented. Then, she moved in for the kill, grasping my cock and wrapping her slender fingers around the thickness of the shaft of my tool, as she pressed herself in closer, between my legs. She placed my purple headed cock between her boobs and worked her boobs back and forth against my tool. Oh my God!

She pushed away and laughed.

“Come on big boy,’ she said., as she swam backwards and away from me.  “Come and get it.”

I dove head-first, back into the water, as she shrieked and tried to back-pedal away. I caught her underwater and in an instant, I had her panties looped into my fingers and pulled down to her knees. She tried to kick at me, but it was a fruitless effort. She fell backwards and I pulled her panties past her ankles, as she kicked and struggled to surface for air, completely naked. 

I was surprised to find her completely shaved downstairs.

“Ok,” she said, after we surfaced, “You caught me, now what?”

“Time for me to eat you,” I said with a smile, as I waded in her direction.

“First you have to catch me,” she shot back, splashing water in my direction.  I was a fast swimmer and even faster when submerged. She backed up against the edge of the pool and I surfaced right in front of her, surprising her and pinning her against the edge of the pool. She looked straight at me and asked, “So am I fucked?”

“Yes,” I devilishly replied. “Very fucked.”

She tried to duck under my arm, but I caught her and repined her against the pool edge.

She grabbed my arm and we fought for a few seconds and then suddenly, she grabbed my head with both of her hands, and planted a deeply passionate kiss on me, thrusting her wicked tongue down my throat. Oh my God! There was no turning back at this point. Her flirting was more than flirting. She was downright devilish and uncontrollable.

We ended up in the master bedroom, pleasuring each other in unspeakable terms. My afternoon swim turned into a marathon fuck session of unbelievable proportions. We eventually made our way across the street and into her house, where we finished off a second bottle of wine and fucked until the wee hours of the morning. I don’t know how or where I found the stamina, but it was the most enjoyable serendipitous, accidental hookup I had ever experienced.

Sam and Sharla’s house sold the week after that hookup. I was kind of sad to see it sell, but very happy for my new real estate agent friend.