The Janitor

Being a janitor sucked.

The kids sucked.

He was already over sixty, overweight, and had to clean the lecture halls every damn day. How he hated having to clean up after those little assholes. They left their trash everywhere—empty bottles, crumpled pieces of paper, gum stuck under the tables. Today it was the turn of the large lecture hall.

He was just in the upper third of the room when he spotted the big puddle.

“Damn it,” he muttered, walking closer while cursing. Probably some idiot had knocked over his water bottle again. That would cost him at least fifteen minutes. He grabbed a bucket and a mop.

When he reached the row, he noticed it right away.

That wasn’t water.

The smell hit him right in the nose—heavy, sweet and sharp, unmistakable. Something he hadn’t smelled in a very, very long time. Pussy juice.

As confirmation, a thong lay beneath the chair. Completely soaked.

Some slut had really been masturbating right here. Right in the middle of the lecture. What a cunt.

He looked around. Of course, no one was there anymore. The lecture hall was empty and silent.

He bent down and picked up the thong. The fabric was still slightly damp. In the middle, right where it had been pressed between her labia, he could see dried, whitish-clear pussy juice. He hesitated for just a moment, then lifted the thong to his nose and took a deep breath.

“Oh God… so hot.”

He guessed the size was a small S. Small, delicate, and expensive-looking.

He carefully dabbed up even more of the liquid from the chair with the wet fabric until the thong was thoroughly soaked. Then he stuffed it right into his underwear, flat against his already half-hard cock. He hadn’t been this close to a real pussy in years.

He mechanically finished his cleaning rounds, locked up the lecture hall, and drove home.

At home, he took a quick shower. Then he lay down naked on the bed. The thong lay within reach beside him. He wrapped the damp fabric over his mouth and nose, inhaled the scent in deep breaths, and began jerking off.

The scent was intense, feminine, used. He came the first time after just a few minutes—thick and intense—the warm cum landing on his stomach. He paused briefly, continued sniffing the panties, and started right back up. The second time, he moaned loudly; the contractions lasted longer.

When he was done, he lay there with the sticky cum on his stomach and the thong still over his mouth and nose.

That’s how he fell asleep.

He was back in the lecture hall.

He’d just gone to get the mop when he saw her: a beautiful blonde, right in the row he had to clean. She was crawling on the floor, her ass sticking up in the air, presenting him.

She’s on all fours, her upper body bent deeply forward, her buttocks raised and spread apart. Her short skirt has ridden up and lies in folds across her lower back, leaving nothing covered. No underwear. Nothing.

Between her tightly spread thighs, her smoothly shaved pussy lies completely exposed. The outer labia are plump, slightly swollen, and a delicate, rosy pink. Because she’s bent forward so deeply, they open slightly on their own. The inner labia protrude between them—thinner, darker, and glistening with moisture. They’re uneven—the left one slightly longer—and they glisten with moisture. Between them, the narrow, pink slit is clearly visible, having spread open a little due to her forward bend. The entrance itself is visible: a tight, darker hole that contracts slightly and rhythmically, as if it were breathing. Directly above it, between the labia, sits the small, swollen clitoris, exposed and glistening because it’s completely shaved. Not a single hair. Just smooth, soft skin that glistens slightly in the light.

Further back, just a few centimeters away, lies her anus. Everything is shaved here, too. The skin around the anus is smooth and pale, with a slight rosy tint. The ring itself is tight and contracted, a delicate, darker pink that stands out against the lighter skin. Due to the sharp bend and the lifting of her buttocks, the anus is slightly open—not wide, but enough to see the fine folds of skin and the darker, moist rim. It twitches involuntarily, contracting and relaxing again as she remains in this position. Between her pussy and asshole, the thin skin of the perineum is taut and smooth, completely hairless.

Everything is exposed, unprotected, at the mercy of the gaze. The smooth, shaved skin reveals every detail: the moisture already pooling between the labia and trickling slightly backward toward the anus, the slight swelling, the fine wrinkles around the anus, the glistening, wet slit. The skirt, which has ridden up, merely frames the whole scene—as if it were deliberately revealing what would otherwise be hidden.

He savored the sight for a few seconds. Then he pulled out his cell phone and took a picture. The soft click made her flinch.

“Damn it.”

She spun around and stared at him in panic, still on all fours.

He asked bluntly, “What are you doing here?”

“I… I’m looking for something,” she said quickly. “Something I lost after class…”

He grinned. “And what did you lose?”

She avoided his gaze. “Um… it’s not that important.” She tried to get up and walk past him, but he blocked her path.

Slowly, he pulled the thong out of his pants and held it up. The fabric was still slightly damp and smelled strongly of her.

“Are you looking for this? Did you make this mess?”

She looked down shyly. Her cheeks turned red. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened…”

She reached out for the thong, but he held it higher.

“Not so fast. Who do you think is supposed to clean this up?”

She stared at him in shock.

“You’re going to clean this up,” he said calmly.

“I… I don’t have any cleaning supplies,” she tried.

“Use your shirt. I don’t care. If you don’t, I’ll report you. Then you’ll be fired.”

*Typical power-abuse porn scene*, he thought, feeling his cock stiffen in his pants.

She complied. Trembling, she took off her blouse until she was standing there in nothing but her bra and short skirt. She knelt down with the fabric and began to mop up the puddle. He secretly took a second photo while she had her back arched and her skirt rode up.

When she was done, the shirt was soaked through and unusable. She’d have to go home in her bra.

She reached for the thong again.

He held it back. “Not so fast. I’ve got a hard-on now. It’s your fault. Take care of it.”

She stared at him in horror.

“We’ll forget the whole thing,” he said, “if we do 69. I’ll lick you, and you’ll suck me.”