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Getting The Builders In Ch. 01

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Blonde

Well, I guess I had better tell you about myself first. My name is Alison. My story starts a few years ago when I had just started my first proper job and bought my first home. Like then, I love great sex and have always enjoyed trying new things. I’ll try anything once – as long as its legal! And so that time was one of many ‘firsts’. But a bit more about me first.

I’m about five foot six tall, slim, brown haired, green eyed and athletic – I try to get to the gym as often as I can but I don’t go mad. There are better ways to burn calories! Not that I’d had chance for a while. I’d been going out with a guy for a while back home but we’d decided to call it a day. Long distance relationships don’t work in my book.

As I said, I had just entered the real world. I’d left university, where I’d had the time of my life, and had moved to a new town for my first job. I’d been working for a few weeks and had been house sharing with a friend-of-a-friend until I found somewhere of my own. At long last, having found the right place and gone through all the process, the sale had gone through and I had the keys. I’d managed to scrape together a small deposit, and my parents had chipped in and with a somewhat frightening mortgage I had got myself a small but pretty Victorian terrace in a nice part of town. But it needed a lot of attention.

I couldn’t wait to get on with it, so I took a couple of weeks off work and set about it. I’ve always been independently minded – or stubborn as my friends tell me! So, as usual, I was determined that I would do as much work as I could myself. The outside, the electrics and the heating were okay but everything else wanted stripping out and starting again. With such a big mortgage and a wreck of a house I didn’t have much choice! I’d probably have to call in a few favors, too.

I had decided to start at the bottom and work up. The kitchen was located in the basement, with a living room and small dining room at ground floor and two little bedrooms on the first floor. The living room and dining room were okay – they just needed a coat of paint to get them livable with, so I sorted that out in the first couple of days. The bedrooms would have to wait. I needed to tackle the kitchen in the basement next.

At the end of the third day I sighed with satisfaction as I looked at the pile of timber and rubble that had been the kitchen. I’d arranged for a skip to come the next day, so I’d piled everything up just outside the French windows which led from the basement to a small stairwell, with stone steps leading up steeply to çatalca escort the pavement above. It was a fairly quiet street and even the few people who did walk past wouldn’t be able to see in. When I’d finished the basement I was going to get a load of pots to put on the steps and plant them up. It was Summer now and it imagined it would be great to be able to open up the doors on a nice day and grow herbs in the pots, the smell of lavender and rosemary blowing in to the kitchen.

I kicked the last few bits of broken wood out of the door and admired my handiwork. The basement was now cleared out, ready for me to start putting in the new kitchen I’d picked at the store – an off the shelf one which would hopefully arrive in a week or so.

I peeled off my heavy leather gloves and wiped my hand across my forehead. It came away black with dust and wet with sweat. It was a still, hot day and the work had been exhausting. My dirty vest top was sticking to me. everywhere felt pretty damp with sweat. I needed a shower.

I went to the open doors and patted her jeans down. Dust flew in to the air in little brown grey clouds. I’d have to strip them off down here, I thought. I kicked off my tatty old trainers, pulled my socks off and wriggled my legs free of my jeans which I left in a crumpled heap on the floor. I wiped my hands clean on my vest, leaving black stripes over my breast and belly. Damp patches had appeared under my breasts, the material turning slightly translucent. Little specks of perspiration sat on my chest. I straightened up my panties – little white hipsters, where my jeans had tried to take them with them. I could feel the crotch was a little damp too after all my efforts.

I grabbed a big bottle of water from the fridge – the only bit of the kitchen I had kept – and gulped some down. I felt it running down inside me. It felt so good. I wedged the bottle under one arm and poured water on to my hands to wash away as much of the dirt as she could. I splashed the cold water on to my face, making me gasp – it was so cold.

The dirty water ran down my arms and neck, soaking in to my vest so more or less all the front turned a semi-opaque grey and stuck to my skin. The cold made my small, red nipples stick out through the vest, the material a turning pink where it stretched over my little buds. I don’t have huge breasts but I’ve always thought they were pretty good – nice an firm. I took another swig of water. Suddenly I heard a cracking sound outside. I looked over just in time to see a figure disappearing esenyurt escort from view just outside the door, at the bottom of the steps.

‘Who’s there?’ I shouted, frozen to the spot.

‘Sorry! I… I…’ I heard a man’s voice stammer.

”Bloody perv! Piss off before I call the police!’ I shouted back. I’m no shrinking violet. I’ve had my share of unwanted attention and think I know how to handle myself.

I heard footsteps as whoever it was retreated up the stairs. I suddenly realized I was standing there in my now see-through vest and panties, my nipples erect, looking sweaty and dirty. I dropped the bottle and quickly hid against the wall by the door, automatically covering my breasts with one arm and my crotch with the other hand.

The man’s voice called down from the pavement. ‘Look, I just came to see if you need any help. I’m from next door. we haven’t met properly yet. My name is…’

‘I don’t bloody care. See enough did you?’ I shouted.

‘I said I’m sorry. Keep your pants on,’ the voice said. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be funny.

‘Get lost!’ I yelled and slammed the door shut.

I peeked through the glass and, with no one in sight on the steps beyond, I ran across the kitchen and up the stairs, still cupping my breasts and covering my soaked panties.

* * * * *

After a hard day working on the basement I was looking forward to a long, hot shower. Still angry about the intrusion a few minutes before, I leaned over the bath and turned the water on. I love my showers to be as hot as I can stand them, enjoying the tingling heat on my skin. Clouds of steam started swirling in the air as the water hissed hotter and hotter.

Damn that guy spying on me, I thought. I wiped steam from the big bathroom mirror and looked at myself. I wondered how long he’d been there, staring at me standing in my wet, grimy vest and pants.

I looked down at my little panties where my dark public hair showed through the thin white cotton, now wet with water and sweat. Yeah, he’d got an eyeful, I thought. Probably went straight home for a wank. The image flashed through my mind as I stared at my reflection,watching the whirling clouds of steam. He wasn’t bad looking, I thought, from the glimpse I’d had. Or imagined I had — it had happened so quick. At least it wasn’t some old boy letching at me. My mind wandered further. I found myself imagining his big, hard cock. his big hand pumping away on it. It had been a while since I’d been with a man – not since I’d moved away etiler escort from home. The heat of the shower, the sight of myself in the mirror all wet and dirty, it was too much. Butterflied were appearing in my belly.

I watched my reflection as I stroked my bush through the cotton, feeling my pubic hair under the slick material. I wondered if this was what he was imagining as he stood there watching me. Was he there, next door, imaging this now? I parted my feet a little more and stroked my fingers more firmly along my slit. I could sense I was starting to get wet. I pressed a finger harder against the fabric till I felt the moist parting of my pussy lips. I stroked myself slowly, pressing the fabric against my skin. The folds of my lips grew hotter ands wetter with each stroke as I probed deeper in to myself till my panties stretched as far as they could. I watched myself in the mirror. The wet, dirty cotton in to me so that it showed the line of my pussy.

I slipped my hand inside the waist of my knickers and resumed sliding a finger up and down my slit. I watched my reflection, as if I was the stranger. I pressed my finger inside me now. I was so wet, it slipped inside easily. I shuffled my feet further apart to allow me to probe deeper inside. I wiped the steam from the mirror again and watched as my finger worked in and out of my slit, wet with my juices.

I stopped for a moment and pulled my knickers down to my ankles. I slid my wet finger back inside my dripping slit, then gently massaged my clit. With the fingers of my other hand I reached down and parted my lips, as if showing the stranger. After a minute I started to feel myself go. I sat back on the edge of the bath. I forgot about the guy next door. This was just about me now. I rocked my hips as my fingers worked inside and around my aching pussy. I was so wet. My fingers worked frantically as I whimpered and writhed in the hot steam. I glimpsed my reflection – my legs wide apart, my body arching.

I shuddered and gasped as I came, flicking my slick fingers in and out and round my clit. I gave a last gasp as the waves of excitement subsided. I looked down at my sodden, swollen pussy and glistening fingers.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror, now covered in steam so that I could just about make out the shape of my body. I’d never touched myself like that – brought myself off in front of a stranger.

‘Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Bloody perv.’ I said out loud in the direction of the house next door.

She stepped under the shower and felt the heat singing her skin. I stood for along time, enjoying the water fizzing on my face. I couldn’t help thinking about the guy next door. Maybe I’d been too harsh. Maybe he had just come round to offer to help, like he said. Oh well, I’d told him where to go anyway. I hoped it wasn’t going to make things awkward.

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