Window Washer


I was a college freshman in Atlanta many years ago and a buddy of mine and I used to enjoy the added thrill of inhaling certain herbal substances in the craziest possible places, one being the roof of the Peachtree Plaza Hotel, about 80 stories high atop the I.M. Pei-designed tower.

We'd done this quite a few times, and the key was avoiding anyone seeing you. The last place we ever imagined running into someone was on the roof itself, so we just about freaked when we ran into a guy up there, the window washer.

Turns out he was a really cool hippy dude who appreciated us sharing our herbal nosebleed recipe. He mentioned that he'd seen all kinds of things from his window-washer perch and told us some astounding stories.

There was hardly a day that passed that he did not see people naked or having sex, and that day was no exception. Not thinking he'd actually do it, I just casually tossed out that I'd love to give it a go. Unbelievably, he readily agreed to take us down the rig on the outside of the that breathtakingly tall building. My buddy had the good sense to stay put, but I went down.

Washer said it was calm, but I thought it was a windy day, and talk about frightening! I looked down once, and that was the one and only time I did that. He said he'd seen an exotic-looking black woman exercising nude with a muscular white guy in a room just a little while earlier, and that they probably showered afterward and might be coming out about now, so down, down we went on the rig.

When we got to the right window, he handed me a squeegee and said to just look busy. From our vantage point, we could see through the open bathroom door that the mirror was fogged up, so someone was in there taking a bath or shower.

In a few moments, an Arnold Swartzenager-looking guy came out toweling off and lay down on the huge bed. We were real close, and in clear view, so he could not have missed us, but the washer said as long as you look busy and don't change your expression, the vast majority of people continue with their activity.

Next thing I see is muscleman slathering baby oil all over his body. I don't follow such things, but I'd bet from the look of this guy that he was a world-class body builder, quite possibly a Mr. Universe contender.

Then out comes a to-die-for black woman with a tall, super-lean, athletic physique and a fade hairstyle. I recognized her right away, Grace Jones! She's out of the limelight now, but she was huge then, all over magazine covers, on every talk show, in a Bond film, and other movies. If she looked fabulous in those, she looked even better in person. Washer dude loved her looks but had no idea who she was.

She oiled herself up, which was delightful, then hopped in bed and writhed in a slippery tangle with muscleman, very aggressive and clearly in charge. Pointing her Brazilian-coif pussy right at us, she got on her knees and performed what appeared to me to be a fantastic blow job, but it took muscles forever to get it up. It was even frustrating for ME to see that, but it just made for a longer show, for it was Grace we wanted to look at, anyway.

And the pitiful thing was, he had a really small cock, little in its own right but positively miniscule against his massive body. Methinks steroids had taken their toll. When she finally got it hard enough, she mounted him, and we watched her fuck like a woman possessed, her gorgeous ass flexing and pink pussy exposing with each stroke.

Ever once in a while his cock would start bending to such an extent that it wasn't fuckable, and she'd blow him some more to suck it back up to size, then resume Grace-on-top coitus.

After that happened a number of times, she finally gave up fucking, swung around to grind her pussy on his face, and alternately suck and jack muscleman. This gave us a perfect frontal view of her face and tits, and there were times in which she appeared to be looking right at us. We continued our solemn-faced squeegee work, and from the periodic contorted facial expressions, she came a bunch of times.

Dribbling more oil on his balls, and still in the Grace-on-top 69, she really, really went to town on Muscles with both hands and mouth, and you could tell from her deeply concave cheeks that she was sucking like a Hoover on high. Finally, he came a paltry dribble that she hand-milked from his never-did-get-real-hard mini-dick.

He barely moved after that, but she jumped up, did some stretching exercises even closer to us on the floor, including a headstand with a complete leg-split in the air that may be the best view of any pussy I've ever seen anywhere, then went back into the bathroom.

I was astonished, but washer dude took it all in stride, saying it was just all in a day's work before he hoisted us back to the top of the tower, where I spilled the story to my buddy while the three of us smoked some more rope.

All in a day's work, indeed!

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