This is a sequel to The Janitor's Closet, a story that people either loved or hated with little middle ground. I expect this story will get the same reaction. As usual readers are welcome to leave their opinions and comments and they will not be removed.
If you choose to make derogatory comments about me, women in general or people of other races, that's your business. Please be advised though that if you do so in an effort to hurt me you're wasting your time, because I've been hurt so badly by someone I loved and trusted for almost my whole life despite knowing better, nothing negative you say will even leave a mark.
For those who read and enjoy, thank you. I'm glad that I've created something that makes you smile, hard or wet. It's fiction for now.
**************
After getting rid of my husband following his unwanted visit, I took that shower that I had longed for, taking special care to make sure I scrubbed all of my soon to be ex-husband's cum out of my sore pussy while vowing that this was a chore I would never do again.
The image of Dave's face down between my legs, unknowingly lapping away at a pussy that had just been ravaged by the school janitor an hour earlier, stayed with me. Any guilt I had about that went away quickly because for one thing I had told him I wanted no part of him or his affections and had pleaded for him to leave.
The second thing that kept the guilt away was thinking that maybe he wouldn't have minded even if he had known. The husband I thought I knew had turned out to be someone completely different, and looking back at the hints he had given me only made me madder at myself.
Who knows? Maybe that porn movie he had me watch where the husband gets this black guy to fuck his wife while he sits and watches was his way of suggesting that to me. That did nothing for me, no more than letting him rope me into that three way with that woman who turned out to be the one he had been sleeping with behind my back. To save our marriage, Dave had claimed. Bullshit, and for somebody who's supposed to be fairly smart, I had proven to be a real fool.
Out of the shower, I dried myself and nuked a Lean Cuisine, bringing it into the computer room and pecking at it while checking my e-mail. Most of the incoming were garbage, but I got a chuckle at the persistent penis enlargement come-ons. Maybe they were for Dave, I mused. I didn't need a penis enlargement, I needed a penis.
You just had a penis, I thought as I replayed the events after work that had been so out of character for me that it was hard to believe that was really me in that janitor's closet, acting like one of those characters in a story at Literotica.
For the heck of it, that got me thinking about checking my special e-mail account that I had used for corresponding with readers. That had been a lot of fun as well, chatting harmlessly with guys like George and Dave and Dan and Ralph and Ed and Aaron, nice folks who would tease and flirt and make my days brighter.
They weren't all nice of course. Some in fact were so full of hate and bitterness that I couldn't get mad at them. I felt sad that they got so upset about a woman writing fiction that showed her just as horny and sex-obsessed as as man. Maybe it was my choice of some of my fantasy partners that incensed them so.
Ray the janitor this afternoon? He wasn't fiction. He was flesh and blood, and while I had felt disgusted about how I had been manipulated into doing the things he had me do, the plain and simple truth was that I liked it. More than liked it. Ray made me feel like I wasn't a worn-out old woman with sagging breasts and no future, and while I was sore in places I had never been sore before, it was worth it.
The Literotica e-mail inbox contained a few messages from old friends wondering how I was, but there was a message from an address I wasn't familiar with. These I approached warily because you never know what you were going to find. Some of the pictures and videos people sent me were rather graphic, to say the least, but I clicked on the message anyway.
Marie.
Hope you get this okay. This afternoon was fun wasn't it? Too bad we didn't have more time because there were a lot more things I wanted to do with and to you. Attached are a couple of souvenirs for you.
best wishes,
Ray
Chills went down my spine as I read his message, and then I opened up the pictures.
"Son of a bitch," I mumbled to myself as I looked at a couple of photos taken with a phone or something, and the first thing I thought of was wondering whether Dave was still able to monitor my mail and was looking at what I was.
The photos were taken by Ray while I was - busy. They showed an aging blonde on her knees, someone who I thought was easily recognizable despite the camera angle and the quality of the photo, with an enormous cock in her mouth.
One showed me stretching out Ray's dick by sucking on his foreskin while the other had my jaws opened as wide as they could go, my eyes closed and my lips halfway down the veiny ebony cock.
This added another wrinkle to this drama I had created for myself. Not only did I have to worry about whether my Literotica profile would show up on a toilet wall at work, but now was the possibility that pictures of me sucking the janitor's cock would appear all over the place.
My reactions were predictable. I was mad, mad at myself and mad at Ray for taking the pictures. Then the anger faded as I kept looking at the pictures, and in the end my hand had slipped inside the fold of my bathrobe.
The final result had me almost falling out of the chair with the frozen dinner plastic dish and my fork bouncing off the computer table while I brought myself to orgasm. Not as good as the ones I had in the closet at work but good nonetheless.
I got myself as composed as possible before typing out a response to Ray, and after a couple of drafts managed to type out something coherent and sent it out. I stared at the pictures for about an hour in hopes that Ray would be able to check his mail, and then his response came.
***
The scene was like something out of a spy movie, I thought cynically as I walked way out in back of the school to an area we sometimes ate lunch on nice days. This wasn't lunch time though, it was midnight and there was nobody back there but me.
For the umpteenth time I asked myself what I was doing, having already posed the question several times on the way over, and just like every other time I couldn't come up with an answer.
Menopause? Been through that. Dementia? I didn't think so. Middle-age crazy? Maybe, but my soon to be ex-husband used that and I thought that was bullshit then, so me using it would not be right. Full blown insanity? Sounds plausible, but if you're crazy are you the first or last to know?
So I sat at the picnic table breathing in the stifling muggy air while looking across the field towards the school and waiting for a man who may or may not come after his work shift ended.
As if on cue, from across the way came a tall lean shadow that grows taller and more imposing with every stride. I stood up and waited for him to come to me, wondering what I look like in the dim light provided by the moon and stars along with some illumination from spotlights on the school behind the shadow man.
"Miss Provost," purred Ray, who seemed to be chewing on a toothpick as he came up to me, wearing the tank-top but having shed the green work shirt in a concession to the heat of the night by tying it around his waist. "Didn't expect to hear from you so soon."
"Those pictures," I said as I clutched the lapels of my raincoat. "Why did you take them?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Ray said with a smile, his pearly white bright in the murky darkness. "You looked amazing."
