Stick around while John tests the definition of "staff"

As John wandered aimlessly out of the bathroom, he literally walked into inspiration. Miss Anya, the school's janitor, was mopping the hallway, and John was so lost in his own head that he wandered into the puddle and fell flat on his ass.

"Careful, Mr. Doe," she said flatly, not even turning her head as she continued to mop.

John frowned up at her, instinctively appraising her figure through her baggy scrubs. She was hot enough in an athletic, Eastern European kind of way, and John thought about using his Fuck Pass just to teach her some manners. He figured he couldn't -- or at the very least shouldn't -- cum again so soon after Mrs. Hazlem, and he had something special planned for next period that he needed to save some energy for, but he decided to have a little fun with her anyway. If nothing else, he needed to make sure the pass applied to school employees who weren't actually teachers.

A little nervously, John pulled the Fuck Pass from his pocket and showed it, wordlessly, to Miss Anya. She took it from him, squinted to read the small print, and rolled her eyes as she handed it back. Then she started mopping again.

"Am very busy, Mr. Doe. Do what you want; I will mop."

That wasn't quite the reaction he was used to, but the Fuck Pass definitely seemed to work. John stood up and unzipped his pants, but when he reached in to pull out his dick he realized how messy Mrs. Hazlem had left it. His whole shaft was sticky with an unholy cocktail of shit, spit, and jizz.

"Actually," he said, letting his filthy dick hang free, "I just fucked Mrs. Hazlem's ass, so I'm not too worried about cumming again right now. But I had to run off with my cock still covered in slime, and I figured you were the best person to clean up a mess like this."

Miss Anya finally put her mop away in her well-equipped cart and examined John's member with passionless efficiency. She turned to fetch some cleaning agent from her cart, but John stopped her.

"No, no. Just use your mouth."

She made a sound deep in her throat that was equal parts sigh and growl, but went straight to work anyway. Miss Anya methodically moved her lips along John's length, scrubbing every inch of it with her warm tongue. The process was purely practical, intended to clean him off without getting him off, but it still felt surprisingly good. His cock steadily grew back to full mast while she worked, giving her more to clean the more she cleaned.

Finally, Miss Anya leaned back on her heels and double-checked her work

"There," she announced, "you are cleaned."

She tried to stand up, but John held her head in place.

"Sure, you washed it," he mused, "but you can't just leave me wet like this; I'm liable to catch cold. Dry me off."

Miss Anya grabbed a towel, and he before he could tell her to use her hair instead she wrapped it around his shaft and started stroking. She barely used any pressure at all, letting the warm, fluffy cotton float across his skin like a cloud. John would never have imagined that a dry hand towel could feel so good, but Miss Anya used this one like the professional she was.

It was over far too soon; before he knew it, his throbbing cock was dry and Miss Anya went back to mopping. John was harder in that moment than he had been in his life, but the whole encounter had left him rejuvenated. Next time he needed a fluffer, John knew exactly who to ask. When the bell rang, he marched through the halls with his dick out and standing at attention, maintaining proud eye contact with everyone who took a double take as he passed.