Secret Inspection: Green Room Secrets

The humid southern air hung heavy as we circled the half-finished green house, the scent of fresh lumber clinging to the twilight. My wife, Sarah, leaned against the truck, a small, amused smile playing on her lips as I meticulously scanned the property. The Realtor’s drone of school districts and property taxes had faded into background noise, replaced by a more primal urge – a need to assess, to evaluate, to see if this house, this potential future, truly possessed the right ingredients. The mirrors in the bathrooms, the kitchen layout, the landscaping – all critical components in determining its suitability for our family.

As she shifted her weight, I caught a glimpse of her jeans, snug around her ample curves. The thought, unbidden and insistent, snaked its way into my mind: how would she look kneeling in the kitchen, her body angled towards my stiff, insistent member? The possibilities, both subtle and blatant, swirled within me, a potent cocktail of lust and curiosity.

"Are you listening to me?" Sarah asked, her voice laced with a playful challenge. I’d been lost in my mental calculations, meticulously mapping out angles and potential views.

"Uh, yes. Nice cupboards, lovely cupboards," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "Wonder what kind of knobs they will put on them?" It was a stalling tactic, a way to buy myself a moment to focus on the visual feast unfolding before me. My eyes lingered on the curve of her hips, the way the fabric strained against her skin.

“What are you thinking about?” she pressed, her gaze intense. The heat between us intensified, a silent conversation spoken through stolen glances and simmering desire.

The words hung in the air, pregnant with unspoken desires. "I was thinking that the people who bought this house are going to move in here and on their first night they’ll be thinking they’re going to be the first ones to have sex in here and I think that they might be a little late in “christening” this house." My confession felt both liberating and slightly absurd. It wasn’t a declaration of intent, but rather a release of pent-up fantasies, a glimpse into the hidden corners of my mind.

Sarah’s laughter was low and throaty, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. "Oh really?" she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "And how are you thinking of accomplishing this?"

Without hesitation, I dropped my jeans, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat building within me. I bounced onto the bare concrete countertop, my body trembling with anticipation. My member, fully erect and demanding, met her gaze. The world narrowed to this moment, this connection, this shared desire.

“Pretty simple really,” I offered, my voice low and husky. “You shimmy out of those jeans, turn around, grab on to that sink and hang on.”

Sarah wasn’t hesitant. She quickly released her grip on the truck and moved towards me, her movements fluid and graceful. She slipped out of her jeans, her gaze never leaving mine. The scent of her body, a blend of soap and something uniquely her, filled my senses.

As she turned, her back arched slightly, exposing the curve of her spine. She reached for the cold metal of the sink, her fingers gripping it firmly. I leaned forward, my body pressing against hers, the anticipation almost unbearable.

“Wow, that was quick work,” she purred, her voice a low rumble. She gently stroked my hard cock, her fingers teasing and tantalizing. The touch ignited a fire within me, a primal urge that threatened to consume me entirely.

She began to lick my member, her tongue exploring every inch of its surface. It was an act of pure pleasure, a slow, deliberate dance of sensation. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the moment, letting her control me completely.

Her head bobbed up and down as she gripped the base of my shaft, her body swaying gently. The pressure built, a crescendo of pleasure threatening to explode. "If you don't wish to swallow this you better back up quickly," I warned her, my voice strained.

She responded with a swift, powerful thrust, sending shockwaves through my body. The first wave crashed over me, a torrent of sensation that left me gasping for air. My muscles clenched, my heart pounded, and my breathing grew ragged.

She repeated the action, each thrust more forceful than the last. The world dissolved into a blur of sensation, a symphony of pleasure and pain. I lost all sense of time and space, consumed by the intensity of the moment.

Finally, with a final, desperate push, she brought me to the brink of release. "If you don’t wish to swallow this you better back up quickly," I managed to utter, my voice strained.

She continued, her movements frantic and desperate, until the dam finally broke. The release was explosive, a torrent of pleasure that left me weak and breathless. My body shook with the aftershocks, my senses overloaded.

As the last vestiges of pleasure faded, she straightened up, her eyes shining with triumph. "Oh, I can’t let that escape," she purred, descending once more upon my throbbing member. She encircled my shaft with her tongue, sucking rhythmically, drawing out every last drop of pleasure.

“Oh, thank you young lady. That feels so good.” She continued, her touch growing more insistent, more demanding. She moved her tongue up and down my member, exploring every curve and crevice.

“Aren’t you going to cum?” she asked, her voice laced with impatience.

"I'm enjoying the show, but if you tell me to cum, well, you’re going to get a face full," I replied, maintaining my dominance.

She responded with a quick, decisive thrust, sending me spiraling into another wave of pleasure. The cycle continued, each release more intense, more satisfying than the last. We continued for a considerable time, lost in our mutual lust, until finally, we collapsed in a tangled heap, exhausted but exhilarated.

“Well, I think that concludes this inspection,” she said, her voice a low murmur against my ear. She straightened up, her body radiating heat. “I now pronounce it fit for habitation.”

As we made our way out the front door, the scent of fresh lumber and drywall lingered in the air. The green house, once a collection of raw materials and half-finished dreams, now felt imbued with a new energy, a sense of intimacy and possibility.

I paused by the counter top, the remnants of our encounter still fresh in my mind. I could almost feel the lingering heat of her touch, the memory of her lips against my skin. A small crack in the concrete surface caught my eye, a subtle imperfection that hinted at a hidden history. It felt like a physical manifestation of our desires, a silent testament to the potent connection we had forged.

"Probably my imagination," I told our dogs, who were eagerly awaiting our return. But as I looked back at the green house, I knew that it wasn’t just my imagination. This place, this house, had been thoroughly inspected, not just by us, but by the raw, undeniable force of our shared lust. And it had passed with flying colors.

Story taboo sex

Secret Inspection: Green Room Secrets

Did you like this story? Secret Inspection: Green Room Secrets look, but like these, here Story taboo sex.