The Janitor’s Secret
When Tom first approached me, he looked like a man broken by the world. A war veteran who had fallen on hard times, he begged for any kind of work. My heart softened, and while I couldn’t offer him a corporate role, I gave him the position of janitor and a small living space behind my business. I provided him with clothes and a place to sleep, hoping it would be a stepping stone to something better.
A few days later, I returned to the quarters to say goodnight, only to find the door slightly ajar. I froze in the doorway, my breath hitching. Tom was sitting on the edge of his bed, partially covered by a sheet, but his focus was entirely on himself. He was leaning forward, his incredible length gripped in his hands, performing an act of self-pleasure so flexible and daring that I had never seen its equal. I had always been drawn to powerful, dark masculinity, but the sight of Tom’s massive, chocolate-toned member left me trembling. I retreated silently, my mind consumed by the image for nights on end.
I tried to remain professional, but the tension grew. One evening, after a grueling day of work, we found ourselves alone in the office. I poured myself a glass of cognac to steady my nerves, the amber liquid barely masking the heat rising in my chest. Eventually, I invited Tom to share a drink. As the glasses emptied, the conversation shifted from polite small talk to the intimate details of our lives.
Fuelled by the alcohol and a desperate need for honesty, I confessed that I had seen him that first day. The reaction was instantaneous. I watched as a visible erection strained against his athletic pants. The air between us thickened with an electric, mutual hunger. I stepped closer, my hands shaking as I lowered his waistband. “My god… you are beautiful,” I whispered, staring at the magnificent sight before me. He was fully aroused, a thick, pulsing vein running along the length of his dark skin, the tip glistening with anticipation.
I sank to my knees, my hands barely able to wrap around his girth. I tasted him with a fervor that bordered on worship, my tongue exploring every inch of his heat. Tom let out a low, guttural moan, his breath hitching as I pressed him against my lips. The chemistry was explosive. I guided him to the rug, stripping away my own clothes with frantic haste, preparing myself with a mixture of my own excitement and his pre-cum.
Tom’s strength was overwhelming. He lifted me effortlessly, his towering frame making me feel small and cherished. He laid me across one of the office tables, spreading my legs wide. He teased me with his tongue, tasting me deeply until I was sobbing for him. “Penetrate me, daddy,” I gasped, my voice raw with desire.
He hoisted my legs over his shoulders and aligned himself. As he pushed forward, I felt my body stretch to its absolute limit, a searing, filling sensation that reached deep into my core. He moved with a rhythmic, powerful intensity, driving into me again and again. I lost count of the orgasms that ripped through me, my world narrowing down to the feeling of his massive presence filling me completely.
As he reached his peak, Tom began to huff, his muscles tightening. I begged him to fill me, to leave his mark inside. With a final, powerful thrust, he flooded my depths with hot, thick seed, the intensity of the release leaving us both breathless and entwined in the quiet of the office.