Maggie and the Builders
We were married eighteen months before finding our dream home on the outskirts of a village in rural Norfolk. It needed a ton of work but we knew it would be perfect to eventually raise a family.
A friend drew up some plans and Maggs was taking a three month sabbatical from teaching to act as Project Manager. She had seen it on Channel 4. Easy.
He didn't look that impressive but Ted and his small band of building misfits came recommended from that most highest of arbiters, the village noticeboard. He was a tubby little man in his fifties who seemed more interested in my young wife than her ideas, but his quote was six grand cheaper than the others so an August start date was agreed.
The big day arrived and Ted's van pulled into our gravel drive. With him was an elder chap and a pimply labourer and to be fair, they seemed like a decent bunch. Maggs was more excited about wearing a yellow safety helmet than choosing something suitable to wear, and she had to quickly throw on a short khaki dress. Not particularly appropriate but if she didn't climb any ladders...
When I left for work, Maggs was fielding Ted's questions while holding the plans upside down, and she was still bubbling with enthusiasm when I got home.
She dragged me outside to where excavations had begun, and then showed me what was left of our stripped out kitchen. Basically a standpipe and a washing-up bowl. It was when she bounced up the stairs and I caught a glimpse of her white underwear that the butterflies took flight.
She didn't do it intentionally, she's not that sort, but the backs of those thighs wouldn't have gone unnoticed and I wondered what the men thought of having a young woman skipping around telling them what to do?
"Were the builders okay?" I asked casually.
"Oh they were lovely" she laughed, "I've never made so much tea! Mind you, the amount of times they had me going up and down these stairs. So many questions!"
Quiet honestly, I'm surprised they got any work done at all.
I forgot to mention. The house came with a burglar alarm and a second hand CCTV system. The cameras were rubbish but they doubled as movement detectors so they did offere a little peace of mind when we were away. The system covered most rooms and had 24 hour recording straight to a very basic hard drive.
Second morning I watched Maggs drop her nightdress into the laundry basket before slipping into some fresh undies. This time she held up a denim dress, perhaps an inch longer than yesterday, but one that still hovered above her knees.
"This okay?" She asked.
In a world where men weren't misogynistic cunts it would've been entirely appropriate, but I could only manage a guilty nod before it was slipped over her shoulders.
If anything untoward did happen during those first few days, Maggs certainly wasn't phased by it, and from what I could tell a procession of tradesmen and delivery drivers had come and gone without any problem. However, she did mention Ted saying how pretty she was.
"What did you say?" I asked.
"Nothing. Blokes do it all the time. He even got me to join them for a group photo. It's something they do with all their clients apparently."
Good lord! I was definitely checking that hard drive tomorrow evening.
I was right about the image quality but managed to find the beginning of a 24 hour loop showing Ted and Maggie chatting in the kitchen and another feed where the elder chap was sawing timber.
The only person missing was that pimply labourer who I eventually found coming out of our bedroom carrying what looked like a pair of Maggie's knickers fished out from our washing basket.
The question was, did Ted know what that little bastard was up to?
I got my answer after fast forwarding the tape to lunchtime and Maggs handed over three mugs of tea before disappearing into the garden to make a phone call. When she was gone Ted produced her knickers from his tool box and held them under his nose and took a big overdramatic lungful, before passing them around.
Everyone seemed to find it incredibly funny.
What to do? Chucking them off the job would be messy financially and Maggs would be really embarrassed, so I did nothing and hoped the problem would go away. It didn't, and a week later she complained that some of her knickers were going missing. A big deal apparently because with no washing machine, this would mean resorting to her most expensive (sexiest) lace panties.
"You don't think someone's touching my underwear do you?" She asked.
"Don't expect so." I lied.
"It's just that I think that labourer had his phone up my skirt!"
My cock reared it's little head and not wishing to waste an opportunity, I grabbed Maggie's hand and closed those slender fingers around it.
"Oh you are terrible." She groaned, but still began slowly pumping my cock up and down.
"I suppose it's only natural Maggs. Tell me about it." I suggested helpfully.
She described how she was looking under the stairs while the electrician explained something about the fuse board, and when she stood up, the labourer was behind her and hurriedly hiding his phone.
"I was too embarrassed to say anything in case I was mistaken." She said.
"Well if he did take some pictures, he's probably wanking over them right now." I said.
"Do you think so?" She pondered.
A few minutes later when she lowered her mouth over my cock, I had a sneaky suspicion she wasn't choosing a colour for the bathroom tiling.
The weather was perfect that summer. Every day sunnier than the last and you should've that little bastard's face when Maggie started wearing lightweight maxi dresses that reached safely past her knees.
Much to my surprise she settled into her new role as Project Manager, and had even swapped her yellow safety helmet for a wide brimmed summer hat that matched her pink clipboard.
Most days I was usually gone before the workers arrived, but on this particular day I was still loading my car when Ted's van pulled onto our drive followed by two more containing plumbers and electricians. I thought it was a bit strange when they hardly made eye contact and rushed past me into the house. I managed to stop Ted though.
"Morning Ted everything okay?" I called.
"We're all grand." He answered in a slow Norfolk drawl.
"Maggie giving you plenty of tea?" I joked, pointing over my shoulder towards the house.
"She was a bit slow early doors but I threatened to put her over my knee if she did it again, ha ha."
He was definitely watching for a response.
"Good luck with that one mate." I warned.
We joined the others crammed into the kitchen where the back wall had now been demolished, leaving a large opening facing the garden. In front of it was a tea-making workbench and my young wife pouring milk into eight mugs of tea. I realised what the rush was all about!
With the morning sun streaming in behind her, everyone could see the outline of her body through the thin cotton dress. She looked practically naked, and as she handed out the mugs I clearly saw the pattern on her underwear. Jesus! Did this happen every morning? No wonder that fucking labourer arrived early.
Driving to work that day felt like I was leaving Maggie in a lion's den of hairy arses and sweaty bollocks.
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The Builders Part 2. Mr Pink.
