tagExhibitionist & Voyeur92nd Floor Drop

92nd Floor Drop



IT'S AN OLD building, for sure.

Yes. I work on the top floor alright, and the view is great, when I bother to look at it at all.

There is a medium sized potted rubber plant in one of the elevators.

I timed it.

It takes exactly 3 minutes, 31 seconds from lobby to the top, or vice versa - assuming no stops on the way.

They need a faster one.

It's an old elevator.

It's an old building.

I'm a young woman.

There ought to be a Law...

I just knew I could do it; and I couldn't pull back from the risk.

I took an early lunch.

I wanted to be ready for it to come out at the right time.

I went shopping that day.

I bought vegetables, and picked-up a small free sampler-tube of hand cream from the cosmetics counter.

I ate twice the usual amount of Chinese food: Its better when it's big - it comes out faster.

I checked the elevator out for over three months: Every day - at all different times.

At 6pm, there is a 90% chance that the elevator will stop on the way down from the 92nd floor to the Lobby.

But, at 8pm, I found, that there is only a 20% chance that it will stop - except on Mondays...

On Mondays, there is only a 15% chance of it stopping to pick up passengers.

I attribute this to Monday night football, or just that people want to flee the scourge of the 'Monday work-curse', and leave early.

I wanted it to be fair...

If I got caught, then it would be the end of my career.

But it had to be fair!

A six figure career...against odds of 15 to 85...

A 15% chance of getting caught, against an 85% chance of getting away with it...

The risk: became -- acceptable; under the pressure of free expression, which I felt, I needed to explore.

I was, simply -- fed up!

Fed up of towing-the-line -- 'The Corporate Line' -- all the GOD DAMED time...!

Around 5:30pm I let it be known that I would be working late this evening, but that all the staff should go; relax, and enjoy a nice, long, quiet evening at home tonight with their loved ones; for they had, all, done well that day - I lied.

The double portion of Chinese food from lunch was getting fully digested, and I could feel the pressure building at the back of me.

I brewed a fresh pot of coffee, just to be sure of prompt delivery.

The last staffer left at 7:15pm.

That's when I started drinking the coffee, cup after cup -- after cup.

I was ready for the challenge now.


I HAD MY hand-cream, my vegetables - a medium sized zucchini, washed and wiped: My favorite hair-brush with the long, thick, bobble-finger-grip handle; a gut full of digested Chinese food - and lashings of coffee in me.

No tights:-

Easy-fit French lingerie panties:-

Front fastening 'Lift 'n' Separate' bra:-

Slip-on peep-toed clogs:-

-- And, statistically -- the odds were stacking in my favor.

It was now or never...

As the clock came up to 8pm, I opened my desk drawer.

I took out my black velvet eye covers: I use them to block out the intense sun at the 92nd level when I need to catch a cat-nap in between -- difficult - negations...

I was ready.

I grabbed my handbag, and my shopping, and moved to the elevator.

I pressed the call button and waited - shaking with anticipation.

I would have to be fast -- nay, I would have to be -- perfect! -- And, much more than that, I would have to be...Lucky.

Right on cue, the elevator arrived.

It docked at the exact stroke of 8...

As the doors opened I prayed someone was in there so that I could, at least, put this off for now -- but, it was empty, and the odds were with me...!

I stepped into the elevator's inner-chamber.

The peppery scent of the oak paneling made me shudder.

I have shared that woody smell with my staffers many a day.

It reminded me just how public this space is... But; nevertheless, I was determined to see this through.

Chp. 3.

I PLACED ONE of my clogs between the incessant shutting of the doors, so that they couldn't close.

It was time!

I took a deep breath and stepped up to the plate.

This was it!

Here we go: Let Luck shine kindly upon my soul...

"Okay," I sighed to myself, "let's get this done -- NOW!"

I yanked the rubber plant out of its pot, and placed it to one side.

I took off my jacket, and rolled my top over my head, and laid them neatly on the floor behind me.

I unlatched, and unzipped my mini skirt, and laid it below my other clothes.

I unhooked my bra, and slipped out of my panties.

I laid them off to the side - in a tidy fashion...

I opened my handbag, took out several paper towels...arranging them into a large square, off to one side.

I placed my hair-brush: the small tube of hand-cream - with the screw-top taken off - and my washed, medium-sized, zucchini, neatly, side by side on the tissues.

I placed my black velvet sleeping goggles on my forehead.

I was as ready as I could ever be.

Chp. 4.

MY NIPPLES WERE sticking out a full inch, and I was running down the inside of my thighs.

My breasts were aching; engorged with milk, from 9 months of Japanese massage therapy, revered to increases ones bra size up to three marks -- cheaper and safer that implants, but lactation is a bit of a nuisance.

As I handled them, fountains of warm, opaque, Mother's-Milk sprayed out in all directions, from my, stiff, little, red, shower-head nipples.

What worried me most was the visceral feeling in my bulging gut: I wanted this... more than anything that I had ever wanted in my life, right now -- and here is was. I could almost taste it!

I slowly squatted down, and rolled onto my back, placing my handbag under my buttocks for better lift and access to my under-carriage.

I shuffled up to the doors, laying on my clothes for hygiene.

I adjusted my position so that my legs were wide open; the soles of my feet planted firmly, high up, either side of the elevator doors -- my big-toe over the Lobby button.

My pose, affording a clear and unobstructed view of everything apparent...

Everything apparently right there - right there; with no question about it!

It was to be absolutely crystal-clear!

Perfect in its totality and unquestionable clarity!

Clarity; so driven, so pure and unambiguous, that if the doors opened -- there would be no mistaking the reality of the situation...

The unobstructed brilliant light of truth would be shone - directly - into the crux of the matter, highlighting the going's-on... -- and it was going on -- NOW!



The time for action had come -- at last...

I pulled one of my buttocks up, and over, to one side, and took hold of the small tube of hand-cream.

I inserted it into my puckered-hole at the back of me, and squeezed the entire contents into my dark mysterious chocolate-log chamber - It tickled!

I tossed it to the right, and it went directly into the open rubber plant pot.

It was now or never, and I chose now...

I would have 3 minutes and 31 seconds to do this - if I was lucky!

I pulled my eye shades over my eyes.

The elevator doors were banging up against my clog - trying to close.

I knew once I started the decent, then that was - IT!

I fumbled for my hair-brush and zucchini.

I located them immediately.

I reached down under, and grasped hold of my clog.

I yanked it out from between the insistence of the banging doors.

They closed - finally shutting off the banging.

All was quiet...

My heart was pounding in my chest.

My breathing shallow, and frantic, and with every inhalation, I felt sprinkles of tepid milk, raining down onto my upper torso, erupting out of the burning, burning volcanic teats of my glands, like two cinder cones spewing plumes of basaltic pyroclastic ejecta out of the vulcanized molten rock, bubbling explosively, somewhere deep, under the surface, of a, deceptive, outwardly calm exterior.


IT WAS TIME to shit, or get off the pot.

It was my last opportunity to abort...

I bit my lip, contemplated the risk...and pressed the Lobby button with my toe.

There was nothing but utter silence, and it seemed to last for an eternity.

Then, I heard a light sounding whirr, and my stomach turned over, as my tummy filled with butterflies.

I felt a sudden drop, as the elevator started to descend.

I handed my right hand the bobble hairbrush, and went back for the zucchini.

I located both holes through sheer bodily knowledge, like when one can touch the tip of their nose with a single finger - eyes shut.

I rose up off of my handbag, and with a defiant exhalation.

I deftly inserted both phallic symbols, hard and deep into my holes...!

Both gates strained to keep out the infiltrators, but the natural lubrication of my love-cave hole gave-way to the bobble handle of my brush, and to the insistent will of its -- director.

Likewise: The injection of lemon-scented hand-cream that I had priorly squeezed, and squirted, into my chocolate-sausage hole, aided the incorporation of the blunt, rotund, end of the zucchini truncheon.

The tight, kaleidoscopic, gate of my wrinkly, fuchsia, burnt-ochre, stink-hole ring, opened like a carp's mouth, and swallowed the vegetable whole, squeaking and hissing, as excess pressurized gas tried to escape, around the edges.

I gasped with shock and utter animal gratification; my head reeling, and rolling around my neck like a pissed-off Puerto Rican whore's preaching the Gospel of The Street, to a clutch of skanky Bitches, attempting to trespass on her turf.

Moaning at the sheer visceral fulfillment of the raw canal ecstasy of it all...I screamed.

I screamed loud and long - and blind, as I descended, unto my fate... Working my crevasses harder, and faster, than the piston-arms of a speeding steam-locomotive...

Awaiting my arrival - if lucky - at the Lobby level...Was the rest of my life -- as I currently knew it -- but all of that could change in a twinkle of an eye...?

There, down there, under me...at ground-zero lay my Destiny - one way or the other -- good, or bad... And I could feel it there -- absolute, solid and certain in its waiting; in its dark, palpable randomness, some 92 floors beneath me -- and counting!

I knew not was in store for me, for I had rolled the dice; I had spun the Wheel-of-Fortune. Will I turn up card XV, The Devil, or will it be The Sun? Is my Destiny to Roll Snake-Eyes, or bust the bank with a seven or eleven, on the pass? All I know is I have taken the plunge, and I'm kicking sand in the face of the Gods, at odds of 15 to 85 -- in my favor...and it feels, so, so good right now -- I just can't stop...!

Chp 7.

I WAS DROOLING with unabashed pleasure.

Both hands pumping away relentlessly at my cavities - all the way -- my reddened rings opening and shutting, alternately, as the phallic proboscises rammed in and out of them - with a vengeance.

The only portion of my endorphin-swamped brain remaining intact and operable, with a smidgen of logic still accessible to my worldly senses, outside of the utter bliss, and raging fury, which I felt blazing away in my loins, clouding my judgment, told me that I must be passing - at least - the halfway mark -- Level 46 and hurtling downward, rapidly...

I knew I had to step up the pace, and promptly re-doubled the frequency of the pumping.

It was alternate: ass, pussy, ass, pussy, ass...

I could detect the scent of both in the air, and a hint of hand cream to boot.

It was deathly silent in there, except for the soft whirr of the elevator pulley-wheels spinning around, and the periodic, metallic, "Clank" every time the elevator car passed a floor, throwing a micro switch which rang a little bell in the cab, other than that all I could hear was the sloshing and squelching sound of my holes, which reminded me a children dancing in mud-patch, and my incessant feverish moaning and groaning, and panting and squealing -- and gigglings.

Chap. 8.

IT HIT ME suddenly, around level 37.

I came, both in my ass, and in my pussy - simultaneously!

I let out such a long, blood-curdling, screeeeeeeeeam...that the Doppler effect alone, would haunt any poor office cleaner, toiling away, religiously, between levels 40 through 33 that night!

Yes, haunt them!

Yes! ...haunt them for years to come.

Tales of phantoms and spirits...

They; past occupants of the High-Rise...

Fading into "Cleaner-Lady" folk lore...

Seeding their culture, and profession, with hair-raising accounts of succubus infestation, corporate hobgoblins and Executive phantasms roaming the deserted corridors of "Finance" late at night, as the lights go out: Tortured, lost souls, still, desperately, searching for that, one, singular - "Perfect Deal" - much akin to the old surfer dude, roaming the coasts of the world, hoping for the wave - that "Perfect Wave". For they fervently believe, if they ever found it, and if they, ever, got to finally ride it -- then, they --might -- feel, that they have touched the untouchable, tasted the nectar of the Gods and finally, become "One", with their environment: Loved even, by their environment; a friendly environment... An environment, which, in their mind, has always rejected them: A hostile, critical, unbending environment; one that has always pushed them away...at least, at the corporeal level.

Chp. 9.

FREE-FALLING: Pumping -- blind.

Screeeeeeeeaming! ...in total acceptance of my womanly right to enjoy -- Yes! -- enjoy, the company of my own body...

It was getting late, though! I had gotten my orgasms, in both the front, and at the back of me -- and in the corporate world that is what is called a "Hostile Takeover", with monopoly shares, and good bonuses! It was time to liquidate my assets, and re-group.

Chp. 10.

I raked both units out from my holes.

They slammed shut instantly, tighter than a Swiss vault at 3pm!

I instinctively brought my hands up onto my breasts and squeezed them.

Two multi-streamed jets of warm milk shot out from their engorged teats.

The white fountains hit the doors and started to trickle down in decreasing torrents.

I pulled both nipples up to my lips and inserted the hot, stiff, rigid war-heads into my mouth.

I squeezed, and kneaded my breasts, like a Scottish baker playing the bag-pipes, and sucked furiously, resembling a vagrant lout stealing petrol out of a car gas-tank with a siphoning hose.

I needed to release the pressure, and relieve the constant ache, of my ballooning, bursting massive bosom.

I gulped down torrents of thick, creamy-sweet, Mother's Milk, guzzling greedily, filling my little tummy even fuller now. I burped! and re-swallowed the regurgitate.

I was shuddering with ecstasy, and unbridled carnal bliss, and valor...

But I was hurtling toward total devastation, at the same time!

"I need to get it together, and get it together --- FUCKING NOWWWWWWWW! And when I say now, I mean NOW, and a bit FUCKING! rapid to...! Because if you don't, I tell you, honey, it will be all over for - you - baby...! Yes--ss...! All--ll --- FUCKING --- over, honey! ...Except for the applause that is..." I thought to myself.


I BOUNCED FROM the fucking floor like a God-dammed gazelle.

Ripped off the blind-fold...

Rolled up the tissues...

Wiped down the doors...

Rolled it all up along with the zucchini, hair-brush and the screw-top of the hand cream tube...

I rammed them into my handbag, and zipped it fast...

I rushed over to the rubber tree planter, sat on it and threw out a gigantic Chinese lunch hour turd, much more than a foot long chased from me by a pint and a half of rock-hard black coffee... I was grunting and heaving like a hog -- the noise from my ass was alarming!

Simultaneously, I pissed like as fucking race-horse in there too.

I snatched a leaf from the rubber plant to wipe.

I used both sides before tossing it into the pot -- Chinese food really gets me -- sometimes!

I bounced off the terra-cotta bowl and looked in the pot.

There was a 2 ft brown boa-constrictor curled up in the bottom, and it was steaming...!

I forced the plant back into its jail-cell pot, and arranged the leaves with a flutter of it foliage.

Chp. 12.

I jumped up and down and shook my body violently, like a polar bear shaking frigid ocean waters out of its coat, from diving at seal, somewhere southerly, around the rim of an Arctic Basin sea, to get the milk off my upper torso: My breasts flailing around wildly like colossal pink plastic grocery bags, in a parking-lot fight, between a purse-snatcher, and a female African American shopper, on the eve before a Martin Luther King Jr. day anniversary celebration -- each bag, holding a 5lb melon -- the ribs being carried in a separate bag, in line with federal food sanitation laws.

My bra and panties went on in seconds, and I threw my top over my head and, shot my arms out through the sleeves, faster than sloppy macaroni oozing out of 'Mamma Luigi's' spaghetti press at dinner time.

I jumped through my mini skirt, slicker than sausage-filling, squirting into its slippery pig-intestine skin-jacket. It was zipped and fastened it in less time than a blink of an eye!

I rummaged around in my purse, frenetically, for my half-ounce Channel #5 toilet-water, and copiously squirted atomized plumes into the air, having found it -- waving my arms around like a helicopter...!

The doors opened - just as I was slipping my last unshod hoof into the only remaining vacant clog around. I looked up, gracefully, and smiled; a slow, building, luxurious smile, spreading faster across my face, than HIV through a third-world continent. I felt the pain of Tom Cruise's jaws following a lengthy Hollywood mug-shot session - or not quite that painful...But the thought of it all, still hurts!

There, standing in front of me, were half a dozen or more, Japanese businessmen, bowing, and smiling, and waiting politely for me to get off, before they trundled in, eyeing my tight little ass -- as usual.

The elevator car was hot and humid by now; and coupled together with my beaver scent, my Chinese log-stink, and the peppery sniff of white oak paneling... Well, the place smelled like a heat-steamed, shit-house wooden crapper seat, off a shrimp boat toilet-bowl -- "Channel has his work cut out for him tonight." I sniggered to myself, blushing.

I straightened up.

They bowed, graciously.

I walked out through them...

Leaving my scent trail behind me, like a hot, comet.

Their hemmed corporate imaginations could never get close to what had just gone on, only minutes ago in there.

I strolled away, confidently, feeling so, immaculately good...!

I had beaten the odds, alright... But only just!

Maybe next time, I'll try it on a Friday evening.

The odds will be slimmer...but --.

...But, I feel lucky!

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