25 September 2006

 

Estate agents

Back in the 1980's in between contracts or whatnot, Keesie wrote the estate agents exam, and passed of course, and started selling houses.
I started as an assistant agent to a woman called Martie, she of course being a fully fledged ESTATE AGENT.
She had 3 brain cells:
: Number One for looking after her hair (blond)
: Number Two for Hating her husband because he slept around.
: Number Three for having sex with the boss.

In between these activities I was looked upon to be helpful in the dirty deed of selling houses.
She had no real interest as the boss was paying for the upkeep of our office out in the sticks and for her car plus a retainer, I wonder why?
I had no retainer though and was to get all my joy from 15% of her commission.
So on Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays when I knew her car would not be used (why was her car not used then?), I used her car to do some canvassing, advertising and selling.

On one particular case I had to get her involved as the owner of this particular property had gone thru the boss to get his agency involved.

This was a super property out in the bush with a 2 storey, 19 room house, with 6 bathrooms, private chapel, pool room with a full size table and two smaller ones.
Rolling lawns, swimming pool and a tennis court defined the outside.

I met Mrs. SMITH on the first visit and she handed me two cards:
: Dr. and Mrs. Smith of the SMITH Estate.
: Mrs. Smith, Architect.

I arranged a meeting for some time in the future where she could meet the Estate Agent.

On this Particular Wednesday, our heroine having not received her protein, and thus grumpy, we walked up the 500 yard entrance walkway smelling 1,000 rose blossoms, to the mansion.

It is 11:30 in the morning and I am full of the joys of life.
Kees : Look at the view.
Martie: Mphmhh.
Kees : Smell the roses.
Martie: Mphmhh.
Kees : There's the tennis court.
Martie: Mphmhh.

At this point the main doors to the mansion burst open in what I presumed to be a rapturous welcome.
Out steps an old man and raises his arms and starts trotting towards us.
Martie's three brain cells have frozen and she starts walking slower.

The man, Dr. Smith (as we later found out) walked right past me and Martie without blinking an eye and proceeded to pull a humongous penis from his pants and pissed merrily into the pool.
I gawked and Martie's eyes glazed over at the sight of this MAN sized member and she fainted.
I had no intention of catching her and she crumbled to the walkway.

Mrs. Smith explained to me later that her husband became an alcoholic after his stroke at the age of eighty.

I sold the property and still only got my 15 %
The money came in handy as my smallest pumpkin just started walking and the bills kept on mounting.

This post was funnier in Afrikaans but I hope that you get the gist in English (well, sorta).


COMMENTS
MrsJoseGoldbloom said...
I've had bosses like that...you do all the work and they get all the profit and recognition. To bad the old man didn't pee on her!
Monday, September 25, 2006 10:38:00 PM
ralphd00d said...
I can almost picture that happening! Would have been better had he stopped beside her, and did it in the bushes or something....
Monday, September 25, 2006 10:48:00 PM
Eric said...
... an alcoholic 80-year old with a huge dick and a mansion... that'll be me in 47 years...

Monday, September 25, 2006 11:37:00 PM
Holder said...
Be hell to be Mrs. Smith, eh?
Tuesday, September 26, 2006 3:53:00 AM
Elisson said...
Don't flatter yourself, WhiteBoy. Heh.

This story is a Classic.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006 5:19:00 AM

GUYK said...
Be about my luck I would fall into the pool..the cold water on my dick would shock me
Tuesday, September 26, 2006 5:44:00 AM

Comments:
I've had bosses like that...you do all the work and they get all the profit and recognition. To bad the old man didn't pee on her!
 
I can almost picture that happening! Would have been better had he stopped beside her, and did it in the bushes or something....
 
... an alcoholic 80-year old with a huge dick and a mansion... that'll be me in 47 years...

Eric
 
Be hell to be Mrs. Smith, eh?
 
Don't flatter yourself, WhiteBoy. Heh.

This story is a Classic.
 
Be about my luck I would fall into the pool..the cold water on my dick would shock me
 
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