I wiped the sweat from my brow, the music from the party thumping through the walls like a distant heartbeat. Another night of mopping up after these rich assholes. my muscles were aching from cleaning trash since morning and now all evening. I was on duty in the washroom so if someone makes it dirty, i have to clean it immediately. These rich people can't use slightly dirty bathroom at all. Today my wife had got an early leave. We were going to enjoy our quality time with me rearranging her insides till she begs to stop. But here, i am, frutrated, because of these rich brats.
Soon the washroom door creaked open, and in walked this hot lady with curvy hips swaying in a tight black dress, blonde hair, fiddling with her makeup bag. She was the mother type, probably in her forties, with full tits straining against her top and an ass that begged to be grabbed, let alone bluncing. Perfect timing for me to blow off some steam. I need it. My cock needs it.
She glanced at me, making a face which told me that she didn'twant me there. I smirked, leaning on my mop, my janitor uniform tight over my ripped chest and arms—years of bodybuilding paying off.
"There are no tissues. Can you arrange some", she spoke while fixing her makeup
"Here ma'am, and if you need help with anything... deeper, I'm your guy", Her eyes flicked down to my bulging crotch, visible over my pants while my thick cock was already twitching at the thought of imagining her lips around my cock. Verticalor horizontal, any lip would work.
I have started something I am not even sure anyone would read. Now here we are. Me—still writing. You—still here. I’m not backed by fame or algorithms, just pure passion… and you. So if you’re reading this, thank you. Your support doesn’t just help—it builds this journey. And every share, every comment, every cheer? It’s another “Keep going.” And I will. For you to read. Comment your darkest desires to read in the story.
Write a comment ...