Cleaning Duty

Mar 22, 2024 // By:analsex // No Comment

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It was the summer after my senior year of high school, only a few months until I would be shipping out to the University of Tennessee. I had just gotten my driver’s license, and I needed a job for the gas money. Thankfully, my church’s custodial staff was a few hands short, and my dad knew just the right people to get me on the Saturday cleaning crew.

For my first day, I pulled my blonde hair into a ponytail and shaved the peach fuzz from my face. I arrived early at six-am and found my coworkers already waiting for me. David and his cousin Meghan.

I hadn’t been to church regularly in a while, and if it wasn’t for my new position at the place, I would probably have never attended again. David, meanwhile, had just completed two years at an out of state community college and had only moved into town and joined the congregation a few months prior. So, it was my first time meeting him face to face.

I stepped into the church lounge where they were finishing breakfast, and my eyes snapped to his. David’s cool gaze seemed to slice right through me. He sported a form-fitting black tee and dark jeans, even in that summer’s extreme humidity. He had cropped his auburn hair short and given it a slight swoop in the front. And on his face, he wore a knowing smirk, as if to say that I was as much or as little as he’d been expecting.

I shot out my palm. “Hi, I’m Adam! I’ve been looking forward to working with you.”

He ignored my hand and turned back to his newspaper. “There’s coffee in the pot and donuts on the counter. We start in fifteen minutes.”

His cousin Meghan shook my hand for him. She and I had interacted only a few times in the past. All I really knew about her was that she’d just graduated from some Christian high school across town and that she used to sing in the church choir. She was a tiny thing, her scalp coming to just under my chin. Her sweatshirt and pants hung loose from her slender frame. Sometime since I’d last seen her, she’d dyed her long hair neon blue.

“Nice color!” I said. “Where did you get it done?”

“At home a few nights ago when I was just sitting around, bored.”

“You did it yourself?”

“Sure! It’s not hard once you figure out how to do it. You just have to, like, mess it up five or six times in a row until the whole process finally clicks.” She flicked my ponytail. “You sure have a lot to work with. I could do yours sometime.”

“Appreciate it, but I don’t think blue would really be my color.”

“It wouldn’t have to be blue. There are loads of options. A whole rainbow’s worth. Like, literally!”

“I’ll think about it.”

Not looking up from his newspaper, David said, “Ten minutes, children.”

Over donuts and coffee, Meghan and I discussed the finer points of long hair maintenance. When David’s timer hit zero, we started my first Saturday shift.

We did the sanctuary first. David and I vacuumed while Meghan scrubbed the windows. Even under the AC and not that many square feet of floor, I worked up a good sweat. No wonder Meghan had arrived in gym gear. Whenever they weren’t looking, I’d pull my boxers out of my crack and unpeel my balls from my thigh.

David barely perspired, but his jeans, like his shirt, appeared a bit too tight. In one legging, a massive bulge ran a third of the way to his knee. Every time he stretched, his shirttail would hike up and expose a forest of belly hair.

In her loose-fitting sweat-clothes, Meghan did far too good a job concealing whatever kind of body she was packing.

We vacuumed the hallways, offices, and Sunday school classrooms. We wiped down the wainscoting and polished the windows, inside and out. David handed Meghan and I a set of buckets filled with spray bottles and scrub brushes, and he dispatched us to the bathrooms while he did the mopping throughout the building.

My first day on the job, we finished at four-pm. On average, though, we’d be out of there by two. Our lunch breaks would generally hit at eleven-thirty. We’d take half an hour if we’d ordered a pizza delivery, a little longer if we had to run out and pick something up.

Meghan insisted upon bowing our heads and praying aloud before the meals, usually with all three of us holding hands. My turns came easy, even if I didn’t believe a word of it. Just, “Thank you, God, for this food, and please let us have a great workday.” Each time, David would repeat by rote, “Thank you for this and all Your many gifts. Please, keep us truly grateful.” Meghan, however, would hold miniature sermons at the table. She’d pray straight from the heart, wishing good fortune upon everyone she knew and praising the Lord for even His most inconsequential blessings.

Often, I’d glance up to see if she was nearly finished. A lot of times, I found David already sneering at me in disapproval.

David would silently read from either a book or his unfinished morning paper while he ate. That was fine by me. The only things that ever seemed to come out of his mouth were orders. “Redo that window. Eskort Bayan You left streaks all over the glass.” “We empty out the vacuums once we’re done with them. Get in that habit.” “Wrap that band around the trashcan liner. Do you want the bag to collapse into the can when Pastor John tosses his coffee in there?” And the one time I’d dared to say, Jesus, man, just chill out a little: “Watch that mouth! We are in a church here.”

So, during lunch, Meghan and I steered our own conversations. We’d go from hair care to summer plans to our mutual love of anime to what classes we’d be taking at the University of Tennessee in the fall. On the third Saturday, I found her droning on about her Bible study group and the modern-day interpretations of the book of Leviticus. As soon as I saw an opening, I changed the subject to beaches.

“Oh my Gosh!” she said. “It’s been, like, years since I was there last!”

“My family’s trying to go to Hilton Head sometime in July. That leaves me about a month to make myself presentable.”

“Gotta get rid of the old farmer’s tan, huh?”

“I’ve got to get the rest of my body to match it, more like. That and I’ve got to myself tightened up a little.”

“I definitely need to do some of that before I even think of slipping into a swimsuit.”

I scoffed, “What’re you talking about? You look great!”

David raised an eyebrow from his newspaper and final slice of pizza. I couldn’t tell if the look he flashed me was one of suspicion or mere annoyance.

Meghan said, “Well, I want this to be the summer I finally rock a bikini, so I’ve got to say sayonara to this little tummy I’ve put on.”

I had only caught brief slivers of it beneath her shirttail, but I could already tell it would be far from unappetizing in a two-piece. It wasn’t like I was hiding a six-pack, either. Not like David and his furry abs. If he wasn’t in the room, I might have acted upon my temptation to suggest that Meghan and I lift our shirts to compare.

We discussed fitness. How many pushups we could do. How many sit-ups. Our record times for running a mile. Eventually, David sighed and flung his paper plate into the trash. “We’re doing the foyer next,” he said. “You two have five minutes to wrap this up.”

I watched him leave. His ass even looked wound more tightly than usual, the cheeks stiff and lifeless in his jeans. Once he was out of earshot, I muttered, “Douche.”

Meghan blushed. “Adam…!”

“Well, he is, isn’t he?”

“David’s just…different.”

“That’s an epic understatement.”

Meghan sighed. “Just ignore him, I guess. It’s what I’ve always done when he gets in one of his moods.” She drummed her fingers upon the table, glancing about the room. “So…wanna, like, arm wrestle before we start back?”

I grinned. “Arm wrestle?”



“Why not? You’re not afraid of a girl beating you, are you?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s just, I don’t know, kind of random.”

“It’s something to do. Maybe the exertion of energy will take your mind off David being…David.”

“Meh. I’m just not really in the mood for roughhousing right now.”

She smirked. “You sound suspiciously like a guy who’s afraid of losing to a girl.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, as if.”

She slapped her elbow upon the tabletop, cocked and ready to go. “Prove me wrong.”

She had me there. We convened at the corner of the table. We stuffed our left hands into our pockets and linked our right ones in the starting position. Meghan said, “Three, two, one, go!” and the match commenced.

She had more packed away beneath that sweatshirt than the tummy she bemoaned. In the first moments of the match, she nearly snapped my shoulder out of its socket. Her baggy sleeves bulged against her contracted muscles. But once I adjusted to her strength, I had her. I bit my lip and wrenched her arm slowly towards the tabletop.

Meghan gritted her teeth and strained against my inevitable victory. Her forearm closed within eight inches of the tabletop. Six inches. Four. Then, she tore her left hand from her pocket and threw its full weight against my arm.

I said, “No, you don’t, you little cheater!” My own left hand joined the fray and evened the odds.

Meghan wheezed and grunted, her face turning purple. She made a half-hearted stomp at my feet. I caught her knee between my thighs and clamped it there like a vice.

It was only then that I noticed the erection threatening to tear through my cargo shorts. I couldn’t remember getting it. Had it been there throughout the entire struggle or was it a new development? My God, it felt great against her knee, especially as she jerked her leg up and down, trying to free herself and somehow still eke out a victory.

An urge arose within me that I couldn’t resist. My left hand made a beeline for her hip and tickled her mercilessly. She cackled, squirming in her chair. Her knee toppled forward against me. I drove my hand deeper into her waist as her leg ground deeper into my groin. My balls were roiling, my asshole tightening. I got two fingers under her shirttail and onto skin.

Yes! Wonderful! Hot, smooth, sweaty. Her slight tummy fat rolled against the hard abs buried beneath. It was everything I’d hoped it would be. I snapped my eyes shut against the rushing waves of pleasure. I wanted to glue my hand to the spot and never let go.

She howled in a fit of epileptic laughter. She toppled upon me, screaming, “No fair! No fair!” I slammed her forearm to the table and dragged her tight against me, my entire hand up her shirt, goosing her flesh. A spasm shot through my body as I flooded my boxers with hot sperm. It soaked right through the fabric of my cargo shorts and onto the legging of her sweatpants as I wheezed and coughed and fought for breath.

Oh God. Oh, Jesus Fucking Christ, what had I just done? She’d freak! She’d get me fired and then really go to work on me. She’d tell everyone about it. She’d press charges. She’d have David beat me within inches of my life. She’d never want to see me again, no matter how much I pleaded and apologized. Shit! Shit! Shit!

Meghan unwound herself from me and pulled down her shirttail. “Wow!” She brushed her gorgeous, blue hair out of her face. “I hope you realize that I let you win.”

Wait. Had she not noticed? I crossed my legs, fast, to hide the dark patch spreading across the seat of my shorts. “Sure you did,” I gasped more than said. “I wouldn’t stand a fighting chance in a real, uh…a real, honest to God match.”

I watched her sweatpants as she rose, the legging stained only slightly at the knee with my drying sperm. “Our five minutes are about up,” she said. “Better go and…deal with my cousin.”

I swung my legs beneath the table. “Go on. I need a sec to recuperate here.”

She smirked. “Wore you out, did I?”

I chuckled but couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “I definitely wasn’t expecting that.”

How in the unholiest of fucks I’d gotten away unnoticed, I couldn’t tell, but I wasn’t taking any more chances. I waited a minute after she left and then sneaked to the downstairs men’s room. Locking the door, I tore off my shorts and ran the damp patch beneath the sink. I leaned over the tap and rinsed the remnants of semen from my sticky prick. I dabbed my soiled boxers with a clump of wet toilet paper. I diluted enough of the sperm to keep it from turning crusty on my clothes once it dried.

I thanked the God I no longer believed in that heavy rain had been predicted for the day. I redressed and sneaked back to the lounge. I grabbed my raincoat and tied it off around my waist. It would hide the cum stain well enough until it dried. I just couldn’t remove it for the rest of the shift. I probably couldn’t wear those shorts ever again.

In the foyer, I found Meghan on a ladder, cleaning the windows. She beamed at me with only a hint of confusion in her eyes. Mopping the floor, David set his jaw and looked at his watch. “I thought I said five minutes, not twenty.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Dude, where have you been?”

“I had to go to the bathroom,” I said. “Pizza didn’t agree with me.”

David raised an eyebrow. “Really. The bathroom.”

I shrugged. “Yeah.”

“For twenty minutes?”

“I found a mess in the downstairs men’s that I had to clean up.” I forced a chuckle. “You don’t want to know the details, but it was not pretty.”

David glanced at my shorts. He smirked, as if he could see through my tied off jacket to the telltale stain underneath. “I’m sure it wasn’t,” he said.

* * *

As jaw droppingly, earth shatteringly good as that scene in the church lounge might have felt, there was no way I could risk a repeat performance. No way would I be lucky enough to secretly orgasm against Meghan’s body and get away with it, twice. Not to say that I was about to start keeping my hands to myself, just that I’d have to exercise extreme caution. Especially with the presence of David constantly looming just around every corner.

Lately, he seemed to be intentionally dispatching Meghan and I to opposite ends of the building. Usually, he kept her right at his side. But being flesh and blood, David wasn’t omnipresent. At least a couple times every Saturday, I’d find a way around him.

I’d discover Meghan alone in some hallway or classroom, vacuuming or collecting trash bags. Once I was certain that David was busy elsewhere and wouldn’t be walking in on us, I’d tiptoe up behind her and attack. Sometimes, I’d just clamp my hands over her eyes and say, “Boo!” More often, I’d shout, “Gotcha!” and goose her sides, hard.

She’d shriek and jump out of her skin. If I was lucky, she’d bolt upright, her soft ass brushing against my groin and her spine snapping against my chest. I’d snatch her around the waist and tickle away, her yelps of surprise turning to manic giggles. I could usually catch the skin of her belly with a finger or two before releasing her.

Then, of course, I’d have to shove both hands deep into my pockets to hide the sprouting hard-on. I mastered the technique of flipping my engorged cock under my belt to mask what was going on down there. I’d joke and laugh with her for a minute, then slip off back to work before another accident could occur.

I’d hold it in until I got home. Then, I’d lock my bedroom door and let loose. I usually finished too quickly to even need lotion. I’d take my swollen member in hand, concentrating on its warmth as I recalled the intense heat of Meghan’s flesh. A few quick tugs, lying on my back, and my cock would spurt across my belly and chest.

I gave myself a lot of facials. Once, I caught it in my mouth by accident. Instead of vomiting like I would have expected, I found that it didn’t taste half bad. Just a little salty. After that, I’d open wide and stick out my tongue and let my cum land wherever it pleased.

Once, Meghan guilted me into attending Sunday services with her. I tuned out the sermon, only paying enough attention to know when I was supposed to rise and sing with the congregation. I’d play clumsy and brush against Meghan at every juncture. I’d have to cross my legs to hide the growing excitement in my pants and hope that it would subside before the time came to rise for the next hymn. Thankfully, David sat with his own group of friends on the other side of the sanctuary, and for once, he didn’t seem to notice anything.

I had a wet dream that night, even after the workout I gave myself before bedtime. In the funhouse chapel, dimly lit and immaculately maintained, I caught Meghan unawares and gave her the usual scare and tickle. She bent at the waist, crushing the sweet cushion of her ass against my engorged penis. I humped her thrice before I came.

In reality, I helplessly hosed my sheets with gouts of semen.

In the dream, Meghan knelt before me in prayer and licked my prick clean.

When I awoke, I tore into my boxers and gobbled the cooling sperm by the handful. It was the best cleanup method I’d found yet.

* * *

One Saturday in mid-July, a week before my family and I were due to leave for Hilton Head, David left Meghan and I to fend for ourselves as he ran out to grab a couple dozen Krystal burgers. He had me vacuuming and Meghan cleaning the windows. Luckily, we found ourselves doing it in the same corridor.

I worked my way down the hall to her, watching her stand on her toes and stretch to reach a few of the higher windows. As I completed that length of carpet, I noticed that one final window eluded her. It was a tiny pane of glass, maybe two square-feet. It acted as the top section for a multi-window crucifix design in the center of the hallway. Reach as she might, Meghan found herself a few inches shy of her goal.

“Having a little trouble down there?” I said.

Meghan threw up her hands and sighed. “Oh my Gosh, I hate being short!”

“I could get you some stilts for your birthday.”

“Ha ha…ha ha…ha. Off I go to find the step ladder.”

I licked my lips. “Actually, I’ve got a better idea. Face the window.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What are you gonna do?”

“I’m going to help you get that last one. Now, come on, get into position.”

She turned to the window, her spray can and rag at the ready. I scooped her around the waist, garnering a stunted yip from her. I said, “Elevator going up!” and hoisted her into the air.

It took her thirty seconds to complete the job. Plenty of time to pretend to adjust my grip so that I could sneak half a palm beneath the tail of her sweatshirt. The more she scrubbed the glass, the more skin I was given. Soon, both palms grazed her tummy, its heat unbelievable as her ass cheeks squirmed against my cock. I’d already flipped the erection under my belt, providing incredible friction without giving the game away.

She finished just in time. Another few seconds, and I’d have painted the inside of my T-shirt. When I set her down, Meghan threw up a high-five. “Phew! Teamwork!”

“Teamwork!” I slapped the palm. Before stuffing both hands into my pockets, I seized her shoulders and smacked my lips against her cheek. I didn’t plan it, it just happened. My innards did somersaults as Meghan’s face turned red.

“Adam!” She giggled and wiped the cheek with her shirtsleeve.

“Oh God! I’m sorry!”

“No, no, it’s okay.”

“Was it too much?”

“No, I just, like, wasn’t expecting you to do it.”

“I didn’t mean to weird you out.”

“It’s okay, Adam. It was actually kind of sweet.” She smiled in only mild embarrassment.

We watched each other for a while. Me standing there with my hands in my pockets and a boner threatening to explode at any moment. Meghan with ruffled clothes and an adorable blush on her face.

“So,” I said, “we’ve probably still got a few minutes before David comes back.”

“I know. I’m freaking starving!” She sighed. “I guess I’d better start on the foyer.”

“Yeah, and I might as well knock out a couple rooms downstairs. You call me if you need to use the elevator again, okay?”

She smirked. “Sure thing!”

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