Everything was fine until I looked over the side of the building. My head spun and my knees went weak. Then something strange happened. I'd heard of people who got sick looking down from heights, but I once played pool with a woman named Jodie who reckoned she got horny looking down out of high windows. Her greatest fantasy was to lean out of a high window while she got porked from behind.
I was getting a serious case of the "Jodie's". The more I looked down, the randier I became. My stomach wanted breakfast but my pussy wanted something entirely different, and it was winning.
Jack put his hands around my waist to help me over the edge of the building and onto the platform. The wire mesh sides came up to my waist, and there was an iron pipe railing around the top of it.
Looking down, I could see between the floor boards and down to the street. I leaned back against Jack as though I was going to faint, but fainting was the last thing on my mind. Every time I looked down at the street far below my pussy tizzled into overdrive.
I guess Jack sensed this because he ran his hands down my hips.
"Relax..." He was standing behind me pressing me back against him, his breath warm against my neck. I guess heights did something for him, too. I could feel it in his pants.
"Look at a point on the horizon and concentrate," he whispered in my ear. He slid his hands round my waist, under my tee-shirt and over my skin. "Concentrate on the horizon," he whispered again.
His hands slid up to my breasts and undid the clip on my bra. They were warm, work-roughened hands. Very sexy. Slowly, he kneaded my breasts while he gently pressed me back against him so I could feel his erection hard against my bum. All around me was open sky. There was already a wet patch of delicious anticipation in my knickers.
He pulled the tee-shirt over my head and hung the bra over the rail where it promptly slid off, then floated down onto some lucky passer-by. The sun was warm on my bare breasts. Bare nipples warming in the sunshine--one of my favourite pastimes--after all, every gal needs a hobby.
Jack's thumbs and forefingers found my nipples, and tenderly rolled them round and round, drawing them into hard peaks. I moaned. I could really get used to this window cleaning business.
I tried to concentrate on the horizon, but my eyes closed in a haze of lust as he slid his hands from my breasts to the zip of my jeans. I leaned forward to grip the side rail while he eased my jeans down.
Jack's hands smoothed over my belly and around the front to grab my pussy. He squeezed. It throbbed and yearned for more. He ran his finger along my clit and stroked.
Happiness is an excited clit--I think I read that somewhere. Maybe Shakespeare, or was it Schultz?
I held on tight to the edge of the rail. He had my jeans round my ankles. I skipped out of them, my knees buckled and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor dragging Jack down with me. The platform jiggled and bounced in the breeze as he rolled on top of me, his knees between my thighs.
My ankles hooked over the rail, and my fingers clutched the wire sides of the cage while Jack's finger explored between my legs and his mouth paid homage to my tits.
Perhaps I could make a career of this window cleaning game.
)
