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Sparkling baby blue eyes

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Posted on: 31 Oct 2003 1 comments
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This story is completely true and totally bizarre, please don't read it if you have a weak psyche or you may never want to have sex again.It all started during the construction of the World Trade Center in New York City. I was an Electrical Inspector assigned to the site for the duration of the project. It was coveted work because only the best union journeymen were hired, they came from around the world to be a part of the project. Everything went along as expected for about the first 18 month but then we got to the 59th floor and a series of events were put in motion that would have unimaginable consequences. Every day I came into the city from New Jersey. First, a bus into Hoboken and then the train across the Hudson, coming up a short walk to the site. Every day, the same time, the same bus, the same train. Then there was this one day when I was behind 15 minutes and took a different bus. As I entered the bus one of electricians saw me get on and motioned for me to come and sit. I had never seen her up close before. She was gorgeous. Long blond hair with sparkling blue eyes. She spoke with a slight German accent and a deep sensuous voice. How she could stay so feminine in such a harsh work environment I will never know. The job was different after that. I couldn't stop thinking about her long platinum blonde hair. Oh, those sparkling baby blue eyes high up against the hue of the open sky. It was inevitable that we would be intimate sooner or later so we both just gave in. We met a Cheetah's for drinks then left for her apartment in Jersey. She told me that in Germany, men and women have frank discussions about what they expected from a lover before they engage in the relationship. We sat on the couch talking openly about sex for hours. Then without provocation, she got undressed and sat on the arm of the couch while I laid back stretched out gawking at her beautiful body. She took my hand and began to show me how she liked to be touched. She loved having her nipples squeezed and her mound rubbed at the same time. She took me to her bedroom that looked like the toy department at your local sex toy store. She had everything you could imagine from beads to buckles. We spent hours trying out different ones looking for what we were going to use for the remainder of the evening. And what an evening it was indeed. I would get hot right now just thinking about if I didn't know how the story ends.The next day on the job was very difficult. I could see her standing on steel on the 59th with those sparkling baby blue eyes. It almost looked like you could see the sky behind her right through her eyes. Her crew was installing the RG-39B receptacles every 64 inches as they had done tens of thousands of times on the floors below. They were easy to install but you had to watch out for the pigtails. The inspectors job was to check each and every one to see that the pigtails were cut short enough not to cause a spark when the building swayed in the wind. When I got to Greta's work all I could think about was the night before. The way she looked sitting on the arm of the sofa, the deep sexy sound of her voice and her long platinum blonde hair framing those sparkling baby blue eyes. I was so blinded by the last night's passion that I hopelessly gave up the inspection. A mistake that I will never forget in this life or the next.Our relationship ended when the job ended but surfaced again 30 years later when 40 thousand gallons of jet fuel went looking for a source of ignition. A year later FEMA inspectors found that it was a single source that ignited the fuel. The source was a pigtail on the RG-39b receptacle on the 59th floor. They found evidence of an electrical arc on the back of the metal box had occurred when the building was shaken by the impact of the plane.I've been in therapy for the treatment of aversion to sexual relationships with women since the disaster happened. My doctor recommended that I join the Whispering Willow community as a step in the healing process.