My affinity for sucking cock may have begun at age 18 with Lt. Simms, but it has lasted throughout my adult life.
My next go -- so to speak -- came right after we moved back to the states. I was barely 19 when my father (with my brother and me in-tow) landed in Northern California. It was a far cry from Europe, but I decided to make the best of it.
We settled into a three-bedroom house in the East Bay, not far from the community college I was attending. Although I had a driver's license, I didn't yet own a car. Instead, I generally rode my bicycle to school and work. For dates, or anything more serious -- like job interviews -- I had to rely on borrowing my brother's or occasionally my father's car.
I was scarcely three months into my first semester in college when my dad broke the news to me. He had, yet again, come up on orders to relocate. This time to Texas. It was one of those make-it-or-break-it times in my life. Although I had a part-time job, it didn't pay nearly enough to allow me to rent an apartment and cover all of my living expenses -- which included school. I knew it was going to be tough, but somehow, I'd figure out a way to make it on my own.
It didn't take me long to land a full-time job as, of all things, a janitor at a health club chain. When I first started, I thought it was going to be one of the grossest jobs ever. I mean, who the fuck enjoys cleaning toilets and scrubbing showers for a living? NOBODY! EVER! Especially since it meant working six nights a week! But, thankfully, it was a job. One that paid enough to rent my own apartment, buy a car, put food in my stomach, and it allowed me to at least continue with my education (albeit some of which was spent in a sleep-deprived stupor).
It's often said that everything happens for a reason, and that job, at that time, delivered my reason and a life lesson I would never forget.
My evening began like most others in those days. I clocked in at precisely 11 p.m. and headed straight to the storage room where I kept my cleaning supplies and cart. I went out onto the floor -- which was virtually empty by that time of the night -- and cleaned the treadmills, elliptical machines, bikes, etc. By the time I finished vacuuming the floor, there were only a couple of guys playing racquetball on one of the courts.
My next stop was the ladies locker room. I always did that room first since it took the most time to clean and it would be less likely to have any occupants. You'd think the men's locker room would be the hardest to keep clean, but until you've experienced it... just try getting tons of loose hair, and dried-on hair care and make-up products off sinks, tiled floors and wood benches. Not to mention having to pick up the occasional bloody kotex from the floor or fish a used tampon from a toilet. It's a bitch to be sure.
Like the vast majority of other nights, the room was empty at that late hour. And even though I was always on the lookout, to my DISSatisfaction, I never did find that hot red-haired and blonde chick lying on a bench locked in a steamy 69! (Sorry to all of you porn junkies who are into lesbian scenes.) As I later found out, they do happen in porn. It just never really happens in real life -- at least not in my world in those days.
I'd finally made my way to the men's locker room. By that point, I was getting tired and just wanted the night to be over. I opened the door and did my usual shout-out letting anyone who might be in there know that I was coming in to clean. Not seeing or hearing any response, I went in -- armed with my trusty cart and hose (to spray down the floors and shower stalls).
I did my usual walk-through to try and spot any major issues. I could hear water running in the shower room -- which was not unusual. Many times people would just leave them on and I would have to turn off the water, which was a fairly common occurrence.
As I walked in and turned the corner, I could see there was indeed someone in the shower stall. The club thankfully had a "no—shower curtain rule" (which meant less cleaning for me), but I suspected it was really put in place to discourage lewd behavior. It didn't stop this guy though. As an employee, it was my responsibility to report such things, but I didn't care. I was kind of enjoying the show. Besides, aside from me, he was the only one in the room at the time. No harm, no foul, as they say.
He was an older gentleman (late 40's or early 50's), clean shaven and rather stout. I didn't recognize him as one of the regular late night guys; but then again, I hadn't been there that long. He was lathered from head to toe, and I couldn't help but notice that he was well-built, and fairly hairy except for his pubic area, which was clean-shaven. What was really obvious though was that he was sporting an impressive 8+inch hard-on, which he was rubbing frequently between washes. He also was wearing a tight leather strap that separated his cock from his balls. I'd never seen or heard of a cock-ring at the time, but I later learned how one could come in handy to keep a guy hard.
I was still too naïve as to initiate anything, so to keep to myself, I simply passed through the shower room to attend to the rest of my duties, which included steam cleaning the sauna and pool area.
While finishing out my shift, seeing that guy in the shower generated flashbacks of my time spent on my knees sucking Lt. Simm's thick cock, or bent over, ass-out taking a hard pounding until he finished deep inside me.
My thirst (or was it hunger) triggered by those memories must have been written across my face that night as I went about my work because, just as I was ending my shift, I found a note setting on top of my cart. He had left it in plain sight where I was sure not to miss it. "Meet me in the parking lot as soon as you get off. I'll flash my headlights to let you know where I am."
What the hell? How could he possibly have known? I had to read the note a couple of times to be sure I wasn't reading more into it than what was actually there. Thankfully, it was summer, which meant I didn't have to leave work and head straight to the campus. Eagerly, I quickly finished up and clocked out. As I walked out that morning, I was greeted by two bursts of headlights in the far corner of the parking lot. At first I thought I'd just better ignore it. But, then, thinking about how hot he looked stroking himself in the shower, I didn't want to miss an opportunity that I would later regret.
I climbed in my car and drove around to where he was parked and pulled into the parking stall next to his. We both rolled down our windows.
"Do you need me for something?" I asked naively.
He laughed. "No, I'm sorry if I offended you earlier," he said. "I hope you didn't take that wrong and report me. I was just noticed the way you were staring at me in there and was wondering if you liked anything you saw?"
I could tell he was still super horny, but not more than me. "No worries," I said. "Trust me, I've seen a lot more than that. I'm just sorry you had to waste it in the shower alone."
"Oh, I didn't waste it," he said, totally picking up on my vibe. "Do you want to go for a quick ride?"
"Damn," I thought. "He didn't waste much time either."
"Uh, sure, give me a second," I said. My mind was racing as I finished parking, got out and jumped into his passenger seat.
Neither of us spoke for the first few minutes. My heart was racing and I knew he could tell I was nervous.
"How long have you been working at the gym?" he asked, breaking the ice. "I just started a few weeks ago," I replied.
"So, how do you like it so far?" he continued. "It's ok I guess. It's a job," I said.
