Asbestos Tile: a Good Thing

Tiles ceilings are virtually everywhere.

I worked in a plant whose front offices had such ceilings. Turns out they were old asbestos tile squares, and I was put in charge of doing something about them. (Best thing is to cover them in a special kind of paint, which seals up the asbestos, rather than tear them out and replace, which causes more danger when they crumble.)

Anyway, because of my responsibility, I had to be very familiar with where they were and all the details, and it would not arouse suspicion if I removed them or did anything with them, really.

My corner office was right next to the purchasing manager, Maggie, a woman who was probably my best friend in the whole company. Both her and my office had the drop-ceiling type of tile running continuously over the walls, so there was no wall at all up above, just the occasional support column up to the roof.

My good fortune was truly an accident, for I was standing in a chair to remove a tile from my office for a sample to send the contract industrial hygienist for testing to confirm whether or not it was asbestos when I noticed that I could see down into Maggie's office through a tile whose corner was broken off.

Maggie was a pretty attractive women, with a slim build but big boobs, but her daughter, a high school senior, was a super-cute redhead with huge, I mean HUGE breasts, and every day after school, she'd come into Maggie's office and change out of her school uniform into casual clothes before going to her part-time job.

Maggie and Red lived a long way from the plant, and her daughter's job was right on the way from school to work, so Maggie's office, right there on the front of the building, was a convenient place to change.

Convenient, indeed!

In warmer weather, Red would often wear halter style tops, which of course are incompatible with bras, and so I surmised that she would be bare-breasted for at least a few moments when changing for work on weekday afternoons.

Well, I simply told Maggie I needed a sample tile for testing and that the broken one in her office would be best, as the edge of it was already crumbling and posing a possible asbestosis hazard. This was, in fact, true, but, of course, I had other motives. Why not kill two birds with one stone?

She appreciated me looking out for her safety, and I replaced the broken one with an intact one from another part of the ceiling, so that the missing tile space was in a place giving me a direct eye-line from my office to the extra chair beside Maggie's desk. Under it, Red kept the duffel bag with her casual work clothes, and thus presumably right where she would most likely be changing.

I could see the entire circle drive and parking lot from my big office window without even getting out of my chair, so it was easy to be on the lookout for Red just after 3 PM on school days.

As soon as I'd see her, I'd close and lock my door, slide one of the sturdy armchairs into place, stand in it, quietly remove the tile, poke my head up through the hole, and wait.

That first day was a hot one in September, and I was hoping she'd be changing into a halter. I heard Maggie's door shut and lock, Red say "Hi" to her mom, then into view she came, already unbuttoning her white parochial school blouse. Off it came, revealing an industrial-strength brassier, then off came the Mary Jane shoes, the knee-high socks, and the plaid skirt.

Wow--what a surprise--she had on thong panties! Eyes having always been primarily glued to her tits, I'd never realized what a nice ass the heavy wool skirts and those thick, loose jeans she changed into concealed. She had those poochy kind of young buns you just wanted to sink your teeth into.

Her back to me, up came the hands to unfasten the bra's multiple hooks in back, and off it came, leaving deep lines in her fair skin. Turn around, please, turn around, I prayed.

The Boob God granted my wish, for around she pivoted, and there, before my bugged-out eyes, bobbled a pair of, I swear, honeydew-melon-size bazooms, smooth and lily-white, appearing even more enormous on the small, short frame of the young, redheaded cutie.

My eyes popped further out as she kept rubbing them to restore circulation from the confines of the tortuously tight bra, perking up the fire-engine-red areolas and nipples like lava erupting from massive twin volcanoes.

I'm not really a big-tit man, but, I must say, for five minutes most days, I thoroughly enjoyed her gigantic young yabbahoes.

One afternoon, Red came in for her usual change of clothes. Of course, I was in position voyeuring.

Her mom Maggie started scolding her for not wearing a bra, saying that gravity would take it's toll and make them saggy if she didn't.

Red was making a pretty good argument that the sturdy bras she had to wear for her enormous, heavy tits were uncomfortable and that she always wore them except for a few hours at work after school and some of the time on weekends.

Maggie was vehement and trying to make her point convincingly. She pulled her top off, then the bra, and there, before my ogling eyes, were HER bare tits!

Cupping them from beneath, she lifted them up and let them fall several times over, telling Red that if she did not religiously wear a bra, they'd be droopy like hers.

Frankly, for a woman in her late 40s, I thought Maggie's looked great. With nipples and areolas just like her daughter's, they were somewhat smaller--merely cantaloupe size, ha!--and definitely pendulous, but with a really nice drape and still quite full.

It was not only TITillating, but hilarious, watching both of them facing one another doing the boob-drop thing over and over. That was a one-time-only thing, but I certainly enjoyed Maggie's form of persuasion.

She did not make her point, however, as Red continued to go braless for her part-time job until summer rolled around and she no longer dropped by for a quick change.

It was then that that the funding was approved to have the tiles enrobed in the special paint that kept the asbestos contained. Red graduated, went off to college, and I never saw her again before I resigned and accepted a position in another state. All good things must come to an end.

On my last day, I made the rounds to say good-bye to everyone. It was only then that the stock room guy—Maggie's employee, no less—told me he' d been boning Red during that whole period of time. He was a really dorky dude, so I didn't believe him at first until he gave such a perfect description of her boobs and ass that I was convinced he'd definitely seen her naked and probably was telling the truth.

Since he worked for Maggie, they had to keep their thing a complete secret, but--nerd that he was and not likely to ever boink a chick half as good as Red--he was more than willing to provide the details when I asked.

He lived with his parents, so they didn't have anywhere to get it on except in their cars and in the stockroom. The stockroom?!!! He worked a split shift, so there were no front-office employees around when he was there alone at night, only the occasional hourly maintenance guy who needed something. Besides, it was about as safe a place as any because it was partitioned off form the rest of the plant with heavy wire fencing and kept locked at all times to prevent pilfering.

He said Red would sneak in after she got off her part-time job, and they'd have sex all throughout the vast stockroom. Eager to tell and with me even more eager to hear, he took me down each aisle and furnished the graphic details. There, on the gigantic sorting table, he'd fucked the shit out of her, laying her out spread-eagle with each limb restrained with loops of chain clinched in vices at each corner.

And over there in the middle, he'd hog-tied her, then to the ropes affixed the hook on the hydraulic overhead lift. He'd lie on the floor with the controls in his hand, and up-and-down her on his cock! I really got a charge out of that. I'd never imagined Red was into such kinky stuff, much less him.

When I mentioned that she was built for titty-fucking, he said he'd slather lithium grease from the industrial-size canisters between her boobs and go to town. He also said that's what he used to lube her ass for butt-fucking. I noted that the Material Safety Data Sheet indicated it was not for "internal use." Oh well, use what you got.

Unfortunately, I quit that job and moved away before I ever had an opportunity to voyeur that action, but, having seen her naked many a time, it was easy to picture.

I guess you could say he did her "asbestos" possible, and it sounded like she loved every bit of it.