Date: Sat, 7 Jan 2017 19:16:03 -0700
From: Mack Marek <mack.marek42@gmail.com>
Subject: My Janitor Bear

This story is partially true although exaggerated, and I changed the roles
of the characters to anonymize them better. Sorry if the beginning is dry,
but it is similar to the story of how I met the love of my life and I
wanted to share it. I really did transform from basically asexual to a
sex-crazed lunatic basically overnight. :) Anyway, questions, comments,
criticism, whatever, please drop me an email: mack.marek42@gmail.com

Thanks for reading!

------------------------

You don't get to where I am without working long hours. I've been a
workaholic since middle school. To some people, a job is a job, but my
company is my life.

I'm just 24 years old. Three years ago, I started a software business which
now has five employees. As the founder, I have a lot of responsibility in
driving the company forward, but I still insist on programming with the
team, because after all, I made it this far by loving to code. I might be
rolling in dough, but it's the work that makes me happy, and I don't think
I could ever give it up.

It doesn't sound super exciting, I know. I sit in front of a mostly black
computer screen for 12, 13, 16 hours a day sometimes. But what can I say,
when you find something you're passionate about, you get lost in it -- even
if it's not always glamorous. Sometimes I forget to eat. Sometimes I'll
collapse into bed exhausted but my mind is still reeling when the sun comes
up.

I'm pretty tall (6 foot 4 inches) and fairly lean, although I'm far from
athletic and a few years of neglect have softened my figure a little. My
hair's cropped short and it seems I'm always fighting a losing battle
against stubble. I've never paid much attention to how I look.

I'm not romantic; in fact, I'm a virgin. I almost never masturbate. Maybe
I'm asexual even. My obsession with work has come at a personal cost. I
have acquaintances but not so much friends. Those that I do have get bored
of me because all I ever want to talk about is bleeding-edge tech and
software architecture and the latest framework the Facebook team churned
out. I even had a falling out with my parents when they criticized me for
refusing to take over the family business. I'm not emotionless, but I don't
find my interpersonal relationships to be rewarding or meaningful; I just
want to create.

And then last year I damn near had a stroke. Doctors said it had something
to do with exhaustion. It's fine to be in love with work, but it can
literally kill you. Since then I've had a half dozen sessions with a
psychiatrist. I need to learn to relax, detach from work once in a while,
and most of all I need to develop human relationships. At first I thought
it was just a bunch of hippie bullshit, but it turns out that giving myself
some time to recharge a few days a week has dramatically improved my health
and reduced my constant dependence on caffeine and ibuprofen. But shutting
work out of my mind left a void. I began to feel lonely. I began to want to
be social. And I had all but forgotten how.

It was half past nine at night and I was lost in the work again, scrambling
after an elusive bug. I snapped out of it when the pangs of hunger finally
returned me to reality, but I knew if I went home without figuring it out,
it'd plague me all night anyways. I ordered a pizza and brewed a pot of
coffee. As I waited for dinner, I realized how long it'd been since I last
ate and my brain felt fuzzy, as if I'd had one beer too many. I scrolled
aimlessly up and down on the screen, unable to focus any longer. After an
eternity, the pizza arrived and I wolfed down three slices before feeling
satiated. The rest of the greasy goodness joined the ever-growing disarray
of my desk. I'm a neat freak, but my desk is proof of entropy -- each
morning I meticulously clean it, and every night it's devolved into chaos.

I jolted when the vacuum cleaner started. The janitor was here. While I
work late often, I'm almost never at the office, since the only reason to
be here is when the whole team's here. He worked his way into my office and
I nervously smiled then averted my eyes, a natural introvert. Then I
remembered the advice from my therapist and I knew I had to make an effort
to be more sociable, especially with someone who I can't just rant about
work to. My voice cracked briefly as I hadn't spoken in hours. I cleared my
throat and asked him if he'd care for some pizza, gesturing to the chair
across from my desk.

He seemed confused (it probably is awkward), but he sat down, peeling off
his rubber gloves. I took a good look at him. He was a short, chubby
Hispanic man, maybe 40 years old. His hair was buzzed like mine, and he had
a big, full beard. His eyes were soft and intelligent, and his neutral
expression seemed smiling, which contrasted my resting face, which always
looked robotic. A thick, dark fur ran up the length of his arms. He wore a
buttoned short-sleeved white shirt, which seemed a little tight for such a
thick man, and some chest hair was poking out of the collar. He shyly
muttered a "thanks" and gingerly reached for a slice. We sat in silence for
a few seconds.

"I'm Mack."

"I'm Harold... I like your office." He was so quiet.

"Thanks."

He adjusted his glasses and looked at the floor. I wasn't good at this.

"You a Salt Lake City native?" I asked, trying awkwardly to maintain the
small talk.

"No, I grew up in Ecuador. Moved here last year."

"Oh wow! I haven't even been to another country before. What brought you
here?"

"Opportunity, I guess. It's safer, more jobs... and I like the mountains
and the weather here."

Something I could relate to. "Same, I moved here from Massachusetts. A
little less dramatic than a new country and language, but this place is
beautiful."

We both nibbled on the lukewarm pizza. "Do you have family here?"

"No, you?"

"No."

Well. Guess I'm not the only one here who's alone. The guy's quiet, but he
seems nice. I wonder about his childhood, what drove him to come here, what
he wanted to do. I couldn't figure out how to ask in a way that didn't feel
like an interrogation. I mean, he's literally sitting across from me at my
desk. It felt like an interview.

His accent was exotic and I liked listening to it. I didn't know what to
say though. I was beating myself up inside, angry that I was so socially
inept, that I didn't know how to make a conversation feel natural.

Instead, he broke the silence this time. "I'm trying to learn how to code.
I heard Salt Lake is a good tech spot."

"Cool! That's awesome, what are you learning?" Suddenly we had something
real in common.

"It's nothing -- just some basic website stuff. HTML. I don't really know
what I'm doing yet."

No, this was something to latch onto, I wasn't letting him go now. Finally
the conversation had started to flow.

I practically pulled him around to my side of the desk excitedly, and he
showed me some of the sites he'd worked on on my computer. It was
impressive work! We started pulling apart his source code and he lit up and
really got talking. I showed him what we were working on and he was
genuinely excited. He had an attitude that most of my team was lacking, a
real enthusiasm for the trade, like I had. He was humble and knew more than
he initially let on. I coaxed him out of his shell and suddenly it was like
I couldn't get him to stop talking. This man was a talented coder, not a
janitor!

I cut him off mid-sentence as he was voicing his thoughts on directory
structure. "Do you want a job here?"

He froze and his expression muddled a bit. He thought I was toying with
him. "As a web developer at first," I interjected. "But room to grow with
your skill set."

His brow furrowed. I couldn't help but find it cute, which was an alien
feeling to me. I'd never really felt attraction to anyone before, male or
female, and here I was mildly crushing on a chubby, hairy little man. It
was his mind, his beautiful mind. He seemed both naive and seasoned,
innocent and brilliant. I felt like he didn't fully realize just how much
potential he had.

"I don't think I have the experience you're looking for..." He trailed off.

"I'm not looking for experience. I have experienced developers. I'm looking
for someone who's motivated, someone who cares about the trade like you do."

He seemed to blush. "Yes," he blurted.

"What's your price?" Wow, this turned into an interview after all.

He named a number. I smiled and opened the offer letter template on my
computer. As I filled it out, I doubled what he asked for. I printed it out
and handed it to him and he stuttered when he saw it. "It's still a steal,"
I grinned.

In between a few disbelieving thank-you's, he signed it and handed it back.

This stupid bug would be there in the morning. I snapped the lid of my
machine shut and stood up. "Wanna grab a drink?"

I beckoned and he shuffled after me, abandoning his janitor cart in my
office. I locked up and we braced ourselves against the icy breeze as we
stepped outside into the crisp night. He shuddered and I almost put an arm
around him. I had no idea what was going through my head.

We walked briskly to the bar across the street and ordered some beers. I
couldn't believe that two hours ago I was frustratingly debugging some
trivial issue and now I was drinking with someone who'd gone from stranger
to practically best friend. I was glad I hadn't gone home.

Exhaustion made me a lightweight and by the second beer, I was already
heavily buzzed. If anything, he seemed to start slurring even faster than I
was. I had no idea what we were doing -- we came to socialize, not get
drunk. But the drinks were there and I needed to decompress and I'm used to
drinking alone. As I began to unwind, the conversation went more personal.

"Are you single?" I blurted out unexpectedly.

After a moment he said, "Yes." It was quiet and terse, as if it was a
subject he didn't want to talk about.

I pressed on anyways, the alcohol making me more dangerous. "How's such a
smart, handsome man like you not getting lucky every night?" I asked slyly.

His face turned dark red and his eyes turned away. He chugged a full beer,
clearly uncomfortable.

I felt guilty, but couldn't understand why the subject would make him feel
so uncomfortable, so I upgraded us from beer to whiskey. After a few
minutes of aimless small talk, I knew the effect had hit him full force. It
had hit me hard as well though, and without thinking, I asked, "Do you like
guys or girls?"

His eyes seemed to widen and he looked at me incredulously.

Without warning, he leaned in and kissed me on the lips. I was frozen,
shocked. I felt his whiskers brush against my face. It was half a second
but felt like an eternity. My hands dropped to my sides. I looked into his
pleading brown eyes. I had never felt so confused; I knew that I'd thought
he seemed cute but I'd never felt any semblance of romance or arousal. It
was like going through puberty all over again. I just stared stupidly.

He jolted back to reality. His expression went from innocent to horrified,
hand he reeled back, realizing what he had done. Before I could even find
my tongue to speak, he was running, the stool still slowly spinning as he
stumbled out the door. I just sat there stupefied for a few seconds, the
bartender glaring disapprovingly. I slapped a few twenties on the counter
and grabbed Harold's coat, chasing after him. My world was spinning, the
buzz being amplified by the nervous, excited electricity that was flowing
through me.

He had crossed the street and was fumbling with his keys, trying to get
back into the office, to escape me and get back to work. I sprinted after
him, and just as the door was closing behind him, I threw it open and
crashed into him. We tumbled onto the floor of the lobby. I rolled on top
of him and I looked down at his mortified expression. Tears were rolling
down his cheeks and collecting in that thick, dark beard. "I di -- I didn't
--" he started to stammer.

I pressed my lips against his, almost violently. The door still stood open,
the freezing wind cutting into my back. I barely felt it. I thrust my
tongue into his mouth and he gave. I felt his arms go limp underneath me,
then they circled around my torso and he started to kiss me back.

I was hopelessly in love with a man I'd met hours ago, whose last name I
didn't even know. I pushed deeper into his mouth, as if I could somehow
force us together until we were inside one another, until we were melded
into a single person. I wanted to join us together, to caress every cell of
his body. I wanted to give him the kind of pleasure I had never known.

After what seemed like an eternity, I yanked myself away to look into his
eyes. He was still crying, but with an irresistible smile pasted across his
face. I was choking tears back myself. This was the meaning in life that
people were talking about. This is what love is. I felt like I was melting.
I simultaneously felt more in control than ever before, while also as if
every move was automatic and I was just here to experience the sensations.

He stared longingly into my eyes, searching for my thoughts. He seemed
un-confident, as if something were amiss. I was surprised as I felt so in
sync with him that I couldn't understand why he wouldn't feel the same way.
"Something wrong?" I asked.

He hesitated, then said, "I'm ugly."

My jaw dropped. It hadn't really occurred to me that he wasn't
stereotypically beautiful. I felt nothing but love for him, and that love
transcended into lust. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen," I
said, and I meant it. "Besides, it's your mind. Who couldn't fall in love
with a mind like that?"

He choked up. He was blushing even darker than before. I didn't think he
could've gotten any cuter but he did. I wiped the tears off his cheeks with
my thumb and stared into his dark, unblinking eyes.

Without unlocking our gaze, I started to unbutton his tight shirt. I broke
the gaze to press my face up against his chest and inhaled his sweet, musky
scent. I finished undoing the shirt and pulled it open. He wore a
sleeveless undershirt beneath it, which was slightly stained and smelled of
sweat. His skin glistened and the outline of his nipples shone through the
shirt.

With a sudden burst of energy, I pulled violently at the hem of the tank
top and tore it straight down the middle, exposing his thick, matted barrel
chest and broad belly. I buried my face in his chest, showering his body
with kisses. My cock was pressing hard against my jeans. I had never felt
anything even vaguely like this before.

His eyes seemed to roll back into his head with pleasure. I resurfaced from
the jungle of his chest fur to resume our kiss. His hands were rubbing up
and down my body, exploring every contour. I focused mine on his head and
face, massaging his temples and caressing his cheeks.

I pulled him into an upright sitting position on the floor. With our lips
still locked, I rolled his shirt and undershirt off of his arms. I ran my
hands up and down his smooth, soft back and squeezed our chests together.
He broke our kiss and said, "I haven't done this before."

"Me neither," I confessed.

I stood up and held out my hand to pull him up alongside me. I kicked the
door shut, then held his hand and escorted him to the reception sofa in the
middle of the lobby. He shuffled behind me excitedly, pulling my polo up
over my head. I chuckled and helped him take it off, then tossed it to the
floor.

I shoved him onto the couch and crawled on top of him, our naked chests
pressing against each other. His body heat against mine felt amazing. His
skin was damp with sweat, and he seemed to shift uncomfortably, clearly
self-aware of his hyperactive sweat glands, but I loved it. To show him, I
leaned down and slowly licked across the chubby folds of his chest where
the sweat had gathered, inhaling his salty aroma. He groaned softly and I
felt it vibrate in his chest.

I began unfastening his belt in a frenzy. I'd never once wanted cock in my
life and now it was suddenly as if I was in withdrawal, that it was
something I needed more than air. As I yanked his pants from his torso, he
sighed of relief as the pressure against his boner was released and it
bounced into a tent in his loose boxers. I switched from being frenzied to
slowing down so that I could truly appreciate this moment. I tenderly
pressed my hand against the fabric of his boxers, rubbing my palm against
the underside of his penis. His whole body seemed to squirm with
anticipation.

He started to sit up, reaching for my pants. I shoved him back down with a
force I didn't know I had, and he seemed surprised. I was worried I had
hurt him, but instead he seemed somehow even more turned on, as he
unconsciously lifted his ass into the air, pushing his cock against my
hand. I felt guilty that I wasn't letting him experience the same as I was,
so I unbuckled my belt and slid my jeans down, exposing my own tented
shorts. I gently grabbed one of his hands and pulled it up to me, where he
grasped my pulsating dick.

A dark, wet spot formed on his light boxers. I leaned down close to his
crotch, pulled apart the fly of his boxers, and fished out his cock. It was
short, maybe 5 inches hard, but it was almost as thick as a soda can. It
was dark, circumcised, and disappeared into a forest of thick black pubic
hair. I wanted to relish this moment, so instead of gobbling it all into my
mouth at once, I gingerly licked the precum from his cock head. He moaned
loudly as my tongue feathered its way across his throbbing cock. I knew
that, like me, he must be aching, probably close to cumming even though I'd
hardly done anything.

He was busy jerking my cock through my boxers and I was leaking myself.
With his other hand, he pulled down my shorts and I bounced up and down
freely, slapping against his hands. I relinquished my control, allowing him
to sit up. He didn't waste time like I did and instead did his best to
swallow my whole cock into his mouth all at once. Mine isn't quite as thick
as his but quite a bit longer, and he struggled to fit it in. I gently
pushed back on his bare shoulders, so that he wouldn't go too far and gag
in his excitement.

The feeling was otherworldly, and I was dizzy with sensation. His warm, wet
mouth engulfed my cockhead and I was in heaven. With his lips sealed around
my cock, though, I could no longer kneel down to return the favor. Instead,
I wet my hand with spit and reached down to stroke him, incredibly slowly,
as he seemed ready to shoot and I wanted this to go on all night. This
time, a low guttural growl escaped him and vibrated against the dick I had
buried into his mouth, further enhancing the way his tongue caressed the
underside.

He backed off of my dick to make a request. Looking up into my eyes, he
pleaded, "Use my ass."

I was taken aback for a moment. I knew the basics of sex but had never
thought of myself as gay. I'd never been very interested in porn and had
watched very little, but never gay porn. I knew of anal sex but it hadn't
occurred to me that this would be something I would do with Harold. I
flip-flopped from confident to nervous in an instant.

He seemed to tell from my expression. "You don't have to," he stammered.
"It's -- it's weird."

But I wanted to. I wanted more than anything to please him. To give him
pleasure was to give me pleasure, because right now we were one and the
same -- two passionate virgins wanting to explore as much of each other as
possible.

I re-wetted my fingers with saliva and slid them down to his thighs. He
instinctively spread his legs for me and lifted his ass off the sofa a few
inches. His mouth returned around my cock and I was so startled with
pleasure my knees nearly buckled. I regained my balance and caressed his
inner thighs, admiring his beautiful, glistening figure. The room was
beginning to fill with a musky scent, and each breath stimulated me. I felt
his hot exhalation from his nose onto my crotch as he made an impressive
attempt to swallow it all at once, and it damn near sent me over the edge.

I returned my focus away from my own body and back to his. I tickled the
hair around his asshole, then finally mustered up the courage and slowly
pushed my index finger inside. It clenched tightly against my finger,
almost as if pulling me inside. I reached deeper, almost hypnotized by the
warm, enclosing feeling, until I brushed against something that felt
ridged. This made his cock twitch and suddenly I understood. I pulled out,
sticking my fingers back into my mouth to get them properly soaked. Then I
returned to explore deeper. This time I pressed two fingers in, as deep as
I could. I again rubbed my index finger against the spot and watched his
whole body tense up, muscles flexing. His cock was literally dripping
precum.

I allowed myself to focus again on the blowjob. He began gently tugging on
my balls, sucking loosely on the head of my engorged dick. I knew I was
close, that I was approaching the point of no return. I wanted this to last
forever, but I also couldn't bear to ask him to stop. Instead, I quickened
the pace of my fingers, thrusting them with newfound violence against his
prostate. He tried to scream but was too gagged by my cock, and instead a
muffled breath escaped his lips.

And then he lost it, without me even touching his beautiful cock. It began
erupting, throwing thick ropes of cum against his fat, furry stomach. The
sight of this triggered my own, and I exploded. He had my cock buried deep
in his mouth and my cum was streaming directly down his throat. He pulled
back a little to flood his mouth with my load. Another projectile shot from
his dick, flying so far it struck his cheek. We locked eyes, with me
feeding him my seed while he sprayed his own all over his beautiful dark
body.

After an eternity of orgasm, finally my penis began to soften, still
hanging limply in his mouth. I watched him roll his tongue around it
passively, swishing semen in his mouth to relish the flavor. The smell of
his spunk mixed with the sweat, exuding an intoxicating aroma. Finally the
last of my energy seeped out of me and I collapsed onto the floor. He laid
limply on the couch and I was flat on my back on the cold linoleum,
catching my breath.

"I love you," I whispered, and I'd never meant anything more in my entire
life. He reached down from the couch and weakly grasped my hand. His palm
was warm and damp against mine. I closed my eyes and smiled.

I awoke, startled, to something wet. As everything came flooding back to
me, I realized with terror that I was lying naked on the floor of the
office. What if my team was here?

I breathed a sigh of relief as I realized it was still dark. I felt the
warmth against my morning wood again and looked up. Harold was nestled
between my legs, gently licking the underside of my cock. I shifted to let
him know I was awake and he took the whole thing in his mouth. I closed my
eyes and was getting lost in the sensation when he abruptly sat up, pulling
away. I opened my eyes. "Is everything okay?" I asked.

He said nothing. He simply squatted down above me and without a word,
grabbed my cock and guided it until it rested lightly against his asshole.
The hairs around his ass tickled my head. Then he lowered himself ever so
slowly, impaling himself inch after inch. I felt my cock enveloped in
warmth and breathed a long sigh. After he got about two-thirds of the
length of my cock inside him, he seemed to struggle with it. His face
contorted into a wince. "You don't have to," I started.

With a resounding pop, he pushed me the rest of the way in, inhaling
sharply and loudly, with a high-pitched voice. I gasped. His balls rested
gently against my pubes and his belly jiggled above me. I reached up and
toyed with his nipples playfully. He leaned down, struggling to reach, so I
sat up to meet him halfway in a passionate kiss. Then he gestured for me to
lay back down.

He began to piston himself up and down on my cock, first slowly but then
gaining speed. This was even more arousing now that I was sober, and I knew
I wouldn't last long. He grabbed my shoulders with his hands and rocked
against my penis, pulling us into an embrace. I reached between us to grab
at his chubby dick and yanked on it. He yelped and rocked faster.

"Oh, FUCK!" I shouted loud enough to wake the city. I hit my limit and
began emtpying my balls into his ass. He threw my hand aside and crushed
our bodies together tightly. Then he let loose. His cum was pouring between
our two bodies, leaking between our chests and dribbling down my side. I
felt the warm liquid spread, coating us both, sticking us together,
dissolving us, molding us into one. As my hot jets of semen were blasting
inside of him, I felt as if he was cumming inside me as well, as if my skin
were absorbing his life-giving seed. Our mouths locked in passion as we
fell into each other, lost in unimaginable pleasure.

After a few minutes, he pulled himself off of me. Our skin was bound
together by dried cum and we slowly peeled apart. As he pulled off, I
realized that my soft penis was still embedded in his ass and as it exited,
I felt my own cum, still warm from being inside him, drip out onto my
crotch.

I stood, shakily. We hugged, naked but no longer aroused, simply enjoying
the feeling of each other's skin. I led him to the restroom where we wiped
down each other's bodies, rinsing the dried cum from our chests. We stepped
back into the lobby and began dressing slowly, both of us exhausted and
drained. The sun had begun rising and bright light creeped through the
lobby windows. A clock flashed 8:00am and I scrambled to button up,
suddenly aware of how soon any of my colleagues might show up.

As we buckled our belts, we returned to my office where he grabbed his
janitorial cart and began wheeling it back to storage. I sat down, picked
up my mug of old, stale coffee from last night, and, holding back disgust,
downed the rest of it.

As my computer returned to life, I took one glance at the bug and knew
immediately what was wrong. Turns out the "incubation" strategy really
works. I jumped to my editor, rearranged a few lines of code, and, with a
satisfying few clicks, published the change. Then I popped open my email,
drafting a quick message to the team saying that I'd be out sick.

I jogged down the hall to the maintenance closet, catching Harold as he was
locking up. He seemed mechanical, almost zombified, as if waking up from a
fairy tale and disappointed to be back in real life. I wrapped my arm
around his shoulder and he perked up. Without a word, I escorted him to the
garage to take him home with me.

I canceled the follow-up with my shrink.