Monday, January 21, 2013

Open House


"So, the home comes with all appliances: washer, dryer, refrigerator, stove, microwave, and dishwasher," the real estate agent told the couple walking through the elegant Victorian home.

"What about her," the well dressed man asked.

"Um, I know it's rather unusual, I...I never had a listing like this before, but that...that's actually the owner's, um, husband...um," she looked down at the listing sheet, "a sissy, I guess he...she's called. She was insistent that he...she...be left on display during any showings."

The woman looking at the home squeezed her husband's arm. "We know she's a sissy," she said, eyes brimming with the thought of possibilities, "we're asking if she comes with the house."

"I...can't imagine," the agent stammered, ashamed that she had to show the house with such a thing on display, looked to the listing sheet again. "Oh...OH!"

"What," the woman asked.

"It says...it says...it's negotiable."

Her husband had wandered over to the tied sissy, let his hand wander to the crotch rope, tugged at it. "Are you pre or post op," he asked.

"Hmmmggfff," she groaned through her gag.

"Silly me, of course. Do you still have your sissy clit?"

The sissy nodded, eyes fluttering as the rope tightened on her tucked organ.

"Does it still grow?"

She nodded again, eyes begging.

"Sandra," he turned to his wife.

"I want it, Richard, the house. The sissy, too."

"You're sure?"

"Oh, I'm sure, Richard, I'm sure."


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