Building Inspection

I woke up the morning after the barbecue to the delicious scent of bacon, eggs and sausages, and the even more delectable sight of my wife wearing nothing by an apron.

'Good morning gorgeous,' she greeted, placing my plate on the bedside table. 'I'll be back in a sec. Just need to grab the coffee.'

I sat up and stared at her bare bum as she walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. She returned in less than a minute carrying two mugs. She placed mine next to my breakfast, her tits hanging forward against the front of the apron as she leant down, then climbed into her side of the bed to drink hers.

It had been years since she'd made me breakfast wearing nothing but an apron. She made me breakfast regularly, sure, but with the kids around, she did it fully dressed. I didn't bother trying not to stare. I've always liked nude women in aprons, although delving into the reasons why will probably make me sound sexist, so I won't.

Sarah climbed into bed and sipped her coffee. She doesn't eat breakfast. Never has. Our daughters are the same, which honestly stresses me out, because my parents would have died before letting us go to school with an empty stomach. Not Sarah. Sarah just packs them a sandwich for morning tea and waves them off as if there is nothing at all strange about not eating until after ten.

I ate a mouthful of eggs and wondered if I had enough time to fuck her before I needed to have a shower and go to work. Probably not. It was already six thirty and I needed to be at work ten or fifteen minutes before my official start time so I could mentally prepare for the long day ahead of me. In between that I needed to eat breakfast, shit, shower and shave.

As I was eating, Sarah put her coffee down and turned towards me. She reached underneath the covers, slipped her hand inside my pyjama pants, and found my cock.

'Don't do that,' I groaned. 'If you tease me, then I'll try and fuck you with a piss fat, and we all know how that ends.'

Sarah laughed and removed her hand. 'Sorry.'

I ate my bacon and tried to think unsexy thoughts. Unfortunately all that came to mind was an image of last night's events. My dick twitched. I still needed to pee, but I was also desperately horny.

'So, um, last night,' Sarah said, as if reading my mind. 'Are you okay with everything that happened?'

'Sure,' I replied. 'You?'

'Yeah, definitely,' she said. 'I was just... it was never something I thought we'd ever do. But if was nice, wasn't it? I got so turned on watching you eat out Deb.'

'I felt the same way when you were sucking Mark.'

She laughed and blushed. 'Jeez, he has a big dick, doesn't he?'

'Sure does, lucky bastard.'

'And Deb has great tits.'

'They're not as big as yours,' I replied.

'No, her tits are better than mine,' she replied matter-of-factly. 'I was kind of hoping she might be bisexual, but I asked Mark and he said she wasn't.'

I hesitated, holding my next forkful of sausage mid air. 'I got asked twice yesterday if I was bi, but nobody asked you. Are you?'

'Probably, a bit. Not much, but a bit. What about you?'

I shook my head. 'No. I don't think so. The idea of kissing Mark is enough to turn my stomach. But his dick was interesting. It's a pity women don't have penises. That would be a lot of fun.'

'Oh my God,

yes

,' she exclaimed. 'That would be awesome.'

With every year that goes by, I find more and more reasons to love my wife.

I finished my breakfast and went to the bathroom. I was in the process of taking a shower when there was a knock at the door. Sarah. She wanted to know if she could come in.

I'd never say 'no' to that, so I opened the door and she slipped inside. Sarah stood in the bathroom, still in her apron, watching me as I hopped back into the shower.

'I thought for sure you were going to fuck me,' she remarked.

'I was, but I don't have enough time to make it good for both of us.'

She grinned and reached behind her apron. At first I thought she was just readjusting it, or scratching an itchy spot, but it quickly became apparent her activities were a little more sexy than that.

'Should I keep going?' she teased.

'Please do.'

Sarah laughed and leant against the bathroom vanity. She bit her lower lip as she began to toy with her clit, and her face took on a dreamy, faraway expression. Maybe she was thinking of Mark. I had no idea. I didn't care, either. I started wanking myself while keeping my eyes fixed on what she was doing.

A soft moan escaped her mouth and her other hand made it's way under the top half of her apron to her left breast. I could see her squeezing her tit, and playing with the nipple. I was no longer interested in my normal showering routine. I just wanted to watch her finger herself.

Sarah slipped her fingers inside her wet pussy, then pulled then out. She opened the glass shower door and shoved her slippery, Sarah-coated fingers in my mouth. I sucked at them hungrily, before spinning her around and pulling the apron strings loose. She slipped it over her head and presented herself to me in all her natural glory. Fuck, I thought, staring at her. She's seriously the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

'Keep touching yourself,' I requested, grabbing her hand and leading it to her crotch. 'Make yourself come.'

She nodded her head in the direction of my erection. 'And you, too. You keep wanking yourself.'

Sarah returned to her position against the bathroom vanity and resumed her sexy little self love session. Her fingers would tease her clit for a few seconds before dipping into her wet pussy. Then she'd withdraw them, all coated in her juices, and return to pleasuring herself.

I was careful not to jerk myself too hard or fast. I wanted her to come first. And come first she did, falling to the floor, her hand clenched between her legs, as she came hard. Her hair flew everywhere and she looked so desperate, so out of control, that I stopped wanking and just stared at her.

'Oh God, shit,' she swore, glancing up at me. 'Fuck.'

I stared at my wife laying splayed out on the tiles. I couldn't help myself, I stepped out of the shower, hoisted her to her feet, and lent her over the bathroom vanity so that her arse was pointed in the air and she was facing the vanity mirror. I took a step back and momentarily enjoyed the sight of her luscious wet cunt fully exposed and ready for me to use.

'Fuck me,' she whispered.

'With pleasure,' I said, guiding my cock into her waiting hole.

As much as I wanted to draw this out, I knew I didn't have much time to spare if I wanted to be at work on time. I started to thrust, slamming my prick in and out of her pussy. I stared at our images in the mirror as I ploughed her. I had one hand on her hip and another found a breast. Sarah moaned, a sweet, welcoming little sound that told me she was just as dirty and horny as I was.

'Hold on,' I muttered. 'Sarah... Sarah... oh

fuck

.'

I knew she was staring at me in the mirror as I came. That made my climax even better; knowing that as I was filling her with my seed, she was watching my facial expressions. I cried out, banging in and out of her as my orgasm rolled over me, first quickly, then slowly as the last pulses of pleasure slowly ebbed away.

When I was done, I leant forward and kissed her back. She glanced up, at the mirror, and smiled at me.

It was hard going to work that day, let me tell you that.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was one thing for Mark to find Sarah physically attractive. That was something that left me flattered, not offended. It was quite another for him to seemingly develop a crush on her.

Over the next couple of weeks I tried to figure out if what I was seeing was real, or if it was just my mind playing tricks on me. He seemed to spend a lot of time talking to her and the girls over the back fence.

Sarah and the girls were always out in our backyard, which was more 'wild fruit and veggie garden' than actual grass, planting and pruning, picking and fertilising. My wife might have grown up five kilometres from the central business district, while I lived in a house that bordered farmland, but I can unequivocally tell you which one of us knew more about growing their own food.

We had a couple of chooks, ex commercial layers that we'd bought one day on the way back from a weekend trip to my parent's pub, and although I'd created a forty square metre enclosure for them, they were forever escaping. Normally they'd just scratch and peck through the veggie gardens, but they'd also jump the low fence to Mark's house. They liked to hang out on his veranda, but the stupid animals could only get up stairs, not down them, which would render them stuck. Mark delivered the first one back direct to our door, but after that, he'd start coming into our yard with wayward chooks and putting them in their pen. I can't tell you why, but it started really fucking annoying me.

Three weeks after Mark's barbecue, he came around with a handful of forms. Sarah and I were both home, and we listened as he explained that the Queenslander needed restumping. Given that it was going to need to be hoisted up, he wanted to take the opportunity to move it one metre closer to our house. This would allow him to subdivide the block vertically. He was on a large piece of land and we lived in an area that was marked for redevelopment. He was almost guaranteed to be granted a subdivision, and when this occurred, he'd sell off the second parcel of land.

He didn't need our permission to shift the house. Reading through the paperwork after he'd left, it became abundantly clear that he'd come over as a matter of courtesy, not requirement. If he wanted to move his house, the council would let him. Our city's population was growing. People needed somewhere to live and subdivisions were allowing that to happen.

'What do you think?' Sarah asked.

'I don't know why he asked us. It's up to him and council what he does.'

She tapped her teeth together. 'All the same, what do you think? I have no issue with it. You can already see into our yard from his veranda. A metre's not going to make any difference.'

'I agree.'

Sarah frowned. 'Are you okay? You seemed a bit cold towards him when he came in.'

'I'm fine,' I lied. 'No issues at all. I'm just tired. Getting old.'

'You always harp on about being old,' she said, not unkindly. 'You're really not. You're only halfway through your life. There's a lot of living left to be done.'

I didn't respond.

'I'm going to see Mark and tell him we've had a chat and there are absolutely no problems at our end,' she said. 'Did you want to come?'

I didn't, but our girls did. That left me stewing in front of the TV for the next half hour while my wife and family visited the good-looking, hung-like-a-horse builder next door.

By the time they arrived back I was in a dark mood, although I was careful to hide it.

'How did it go?' I asked.

My daughters waxed lyrical about the wonderful-ness of Mark. Did I know he had a foreign currency collection? And a taxidermy rooster his mother had made? And had I seen the traditional knife his grandfather, who had served in Papua New Guinea during World War Two, had given him?

'I had to drag them out of there,' Sarah said. Then she turned to the girls and told them to start brushing their teeth and getting ready for bed. They skulked off to the bathroom with a series of complaints, with the younger one telling us the older one was bossy and the older one telling us the younger one was a pain in the bum.

When the girls were out of earshot, Sarah turned to mischievously. 'We've been invited to the Gold Coast for a weekend away the week after next. Deb's house. Mark said she lives in a pretty impressive apartment. Just think; a whole weekend of you-know-what.'

I stopped thinking about Mark, and started thinking about Deb and her beautiful breasts. She was probably the only woman I'd ever have extra marital sex with. Did I really want to say 'no' to the opportunity to make love to her because I was a little insecure about Mark? No. No, I did not.

'The only problem is that we won't have much privacy,' Sarah mused.

'I'll tell everyone you're feeling a bit tired or sick if you want to escape for a bit,' I offered. Sarah's an introvert, and needs her 'me' time.

She gave me a grateful smile. 'That would be awesome. Thanks.'

I left messages for both my Mum and Sunny asking if they were free for a weekend's baby-sitting. Half an hour later, Mum called me. After the usual polite chit chat, she told me that Sunny had called her about the baby-sitting gig, and that both Mum and Dad, and Sunny and Lisa, were happy to take the girls.

'We were thinking of having a nice country weekend with them,' Mum said. 'Sunny has to work on Sunday afternoon, and obviously Dad and I need to manage the pub, but between us, we'll have no troubles taking care of the girls.'

'Sounds great,' I said, thinking only of Sarah and Deb, and not at all of Mark. 'I really appreciate it.'

'In other news, we think we might have a buyer for the pub,' Mum said.

'Really?' I was surprised. They'd been trying to flog that place off for a good year by now. It was very profitable, sure, but not everyone wants to sign up for the 'running a country pub and hotel' lifestyle. The hours were long. 'Have they got finance?'

'They do. We're just waiting on a few more pieces of legal paperwork. Then it'll be gone, and time for Dad and I to retire.'

That was a strange thought. I couldn't imagine them selling the pub. But all the same, I was happy for them. They were getting on in years and it was time for them to retire.

~~~~~

The Gold Coast is a holiday mecca for families and there's no way in hell I'd want to go there during school holidays, but it was early October when Sarah and I made our way there. School was in, but the weather was warm - it was downright hot the weekend we visited - so it was perfect. Just bliss, actually.

We'd arranged to go up Friday afternoon and come back very early Sunday. I'd drop Sarah off home and then go to work. We'd asked Mark what we should bring and we'd been given a list consisting of condoms, lubricant, booze and whatever we wanted to wear.

We arrived just after five thirty. The beaches were a sight to behold and the atmosphere was excellent. I saw the signs and barricades going up for the Gold Coast 600 car race, which was due to be held in a few weeks, and wondered where her apartment was in proximity to it. The race route runs through normally residential streets, so a lot of residents have a balcony-side view of it.

'Next left aaaand it's the building on our left,' Sarah said, consulting our GPS. 'Oh, that's it there. Holy shit.'

Gold Coast property booms and crashes like the waves. Deb lived in Surfers Paradise, which has always been one of the most vulnerable, but most appealing, areas and the apartment tower she lived in was pretty shit hot. It probably dated back to the nineties, but it had been extremely well maintained, and it was within walking distance of the beach.

As we parked our car in the visitor parking and made out way up to her apartment in the lift, I found myself wondering why Deb had described our cottage as 'cute' last weekend. Who had she been kidding? Our house was an eclectic shit heap compared to this place.

Her apartment was insane. Just imagine someone what you can do with a hundred and eighty square metres, a lot of cash and good taste, and you get the idea. It was literally twice the size of our cottage, and everything was tidy. As Deb was inviting us in, two perfectly cute, perfectly groomed, perfectly behaved little bundles of fluff came up to say hello.

'They're my babies,' Deb told us. 'Dotty and Bow.'

Our hostess was wearing a black one piece swimsuit with a white cotton sarong wrapped casually around her hips. It was a very casual, summery thing to wear and she seemed relaxed. She told me to leave the box of wines and spirits she'd instructed us to buy in the kitchen, the led us to our room.

The dogs followed us as she showed us the way. Sarah bent down to pat one, and it gently jumped up against her, licking her face. I mentally prepared myself for dog ownership. If the expression on Sarah's face was any indication, we were about to become puppy parents in the near future.

We heard the front door to the apartment open as Deb was chatting to Sarah about the dogs.

'That'll be Mark,' Deb said. 'I was a naughty girl and sent him to do some work for me. One of my clients has a broken kitchen cabinet and we can't for the life of us find a handyman or carpenter willing to do such a small job.'

'What do you do for a living?' Sarah asked curiously.

'I'm a leasing manager for a shopping mall,' Deb replied. 'I also...'

She trailed off as Mark appeared at the door. He was still in work clothes; heavy cotton drill pants and an old white shirt, but it wasn't his clothing that caught my attention, it was the expression on his face when he caught sight of Sarah. My stomach clenched. I glanced at Deb helplessly, and she forced a smile, but I could tell from the look in her eyes that she'd seen what I'd seen. I didn't know whether to feel angry that Mark was obviously developing feelings for my wife, or vindicated that my suspicions had turned out to be correct.

'We should have a drink,' Deb said brightly. 'Mark, go and have a shower. You smell.'

'Yeah, yeah,' he replied, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. 'I know.'

Mark left the room and headed, presumably, towards the master bathroom. Deb led Sarah and I into the kitchen, where she poured us all a drink before packing away the surplus wine and booze. I tried my best not to gulp mine down, but I felt very on edge. I was starting to regret coming here.

'Sarah, why don't you go and check on Mark?' Deb suggested. 'Your husband looks tense. I'm a qualified masseuse. I might give him a massage and see if I can't get him to relax.'

Sarah gazed at me questioningly.

'Just tired,' I said, planting a smile on my face. 'Go and have some fun. I'll either fall asleep, in which case Deb will come and join you, or I'll wake up a bit.'

'Are you okay?' she asked me.

I nodded and leant over and brushed her hair back from her face. There was no way I was telling her about Mark. I knew it would only make her uncomfortable. We could have that conversation when we were back in Brisbane. 'Positive. See if he can't make you orgasm.'

She blushed, but didn't say anything. Deb and I watched her go.

'Come on, sweetie,' Deb said, taking my hand in hers. The gesture was almost maternal. 'Let's pop you in the shower and then we'll see if we can't loosen you up.'

The guest bathroom had a two person shower. Deb ran the water, then gestured for me to strip off and hop in, which I did. She followed me, entirely nude, just seconds after I'd stepped inside. Her luscious tits were once again on full display, along with the toned, tanned body and that beautiful surfer girl smile of hers.

Deb washed me slowly and sensually. My cock was rock hard and she seemed to take particular delight in stroking it, as well as very delicately washing my balls. I'd actually showered and shaved before I left home, but what she was doing was so pleasant I couldn't bear to ask her to stop. The warm water and the bourbon and Coke was going a long way towards relaxing me.

When we'd finished showering, we patted each other dry. Deb pulled out a bottle of moisturiser, and I asked her if I could apply it to her. She nodded her head and gave me a smile.

'Be my guest,' she said.

I tried my damnest to apply it thoroughly and sensually. I mustn't have done too bad a job, because by the time I'd finished her nipples were erect and her eyes were hooded with lust. I gently stroked her slit, and when she didn't protest, I pushed in between her pussy lips to her clit. Her little button was hard and erect, and she moaned as I rubbed it.