The janitor read my look before my first coffee

I started at that consulting firm in September, fresh out of a job I’d put up with for three years too long. The company was on the twelfth floor of an old building downtown, one of those places with a wooden elevator and the smell of wax. There were no more than sixteen of us. I came in as a project analyst, an industrial engineer recycled into finance because, as my father-in-law used to say, “the money is where the money is, not where you study.”

Ramiro, the owner, introduced me to everyone else on Monday morning. A quick tour of the desks, brief handshakes, polite smiles. The last stop was the little kitchen in the back, where a dark-skinned, broad-shouldered man in his late sixties was scrubbing cups in silence. He had huge hands and wore an apron over a neatly pressed gray shirt.

—Mr. Aurelio, let me introduce you to the engineer —Ramiro said, and then, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret between accomplices, added—: watch out for him, engineer, Mr. Aurelio likes white meat.

Mr. Aurelio let out a deep laugh, the kind that comes from the gut, and held out his hand. I returned the handshake with as much professionalism as I could muster. I felt his callused palm, warm, and a chill ran down my back. Ramiro kept talking about something else. Mr. Aurelio didn’t let go of my hand right away.

I left the little kitchen laughing out of politeness. It’s a joke, just an office joke. But I spent the rest of the day with that line bouncing around in the back of my head.

***

I spent the first few days trying to make a good impression on everyone. I arrived before anybody else, left after half of them. I memorized names, org charts, printer codes. And, without meaning to, I also memorized Mr. Aurelio’s schedule.

I saw him go by twice in the morning, once in the middle of the afternoon and once at the end of the day. He walked unhurriedly, with a rag over one shoulder or a bucket in his hand. Every time I crossed paths with him in the hallway, he’d say, “Good morning, engineer,” or “Excuse me, engineer,” with such exaggerated respect it almost felt like mockery. I’d answer, “Mr. Aurelio,” and keep walking.

I looked at him more than was prudent. It was hard not to. He had broad shoulders, a thick neck, a firm belly that took nothing away from him. And the gray uniform trousers outlined a bulge that, every time I noticed it, forced me to stare at the ceiling. A bulge that hung heavy toward his left thigh, thick even through the stiff fabric of the uniform, and that moved with every step as if it had a life of its own. I was married, had two kids, lived in a new building in the north of the city. I wasn’t in the market for those kinds of things.

Or so I kept telling myself every night, while Lucía told me about the kids’ kindergarten day and I nodded without listening, one hand under the sheet gripping my hard cock, thinking about that black, thick bulge under the apron.

***

On Friday of the first week, I ended up in the elevator with Mr. Aurelio. I was going up with a folder under my arm, pretending to review some figures. He stepped in carrying a box of stationery and pressed twelve without asking me.

—Good morning, engineer.

—Mr. Aurelio.

The wooden elevator jolted and started climbing slowly. I looked at the floor panel. He looked at me. I felt it without needing to lift my eyes. That kind of look has weight.

—And? Settling in all right?

—Yes, thank you. Everyone’s been kind.

—People are always kind the first week, engineer —he said, and laughed softly.

I looked up. He had thick lips, split down the middle by a darker line. He smiled without showing his teeth. It wasn’t flirting. It was a certainty, like someone checking a form and confirming a signature.

Men like Mr. Aurelio have a radar I, by that point in my life, had already learned to respect. They know how to smell doubt. They know how to tell, between two married men, which one is not thinking about his wife. That morning, in the elevator, he knew everything he needed to know.

The doors opened. I got out first. He didn’t follow.

***

Ten minutes later, nobody had reached the floor yet. The office was dim. I’d only turned on my desk lamp and spread out the new client’s reports. I heard footsteps in the hall. Three sharp knocks on my door, which was half open. Mr. Aurelio stuck his head in.

—May I come in, engineer? I need to take some folders off the shelf.

—Go ahead.

He came in without looking at me. He walked to the cabinet behind me. I kept reading the report, or pretending to keep reading it, while he rummaged through the binders. I heard him breathing very close by. When I turned slightly in my chair to ask if he’d found what he was looking for, his trousers were at my face level.

The bulge was no longer the one from the hallways. It was bigger. It was an enormous piece pushing the fabric from the inside, almost brushing my cheek. It showed through completely: the thick head like a fist, the thick shaft slanting downward, and a pair of heavy balls that could be seen hanging beneath the fabric. I felt the heat before I fully processed what I was seeing. I also caught the smell: old sweat, wax, a man who had gone hours without taking off his clothes.

—Engineer —he said, without turning, pretending to keep looking for folders—, do you need anything else?

—No, Mr. Aurelio, I have everything I need.

—Are you sure?

I hesitated. Just a second. Just enough for him to notice. He brought his hip a couple of centimeters closer. The fabric brushed my chin, and I felt, unmistakably, how his cock jerked against my face, swelling suddenly beneath the trousers.

—I’ll ask again, engineer. Don’t you need anything else?

—You already know what I need —I said, in a voice I didn’t recognize as mine.

Mr. Aurelio shut the shelf drawer with a calm that made my head spin.

—Are we leaving together at six, engineer?

—Yes.

He left without adding anything. The door stayed the way it had been before, half open. I sat staring at the computer screen without seeing a thing, my cock hard and pushing against my zipper, my mouth still full of saliva that had collected there without me noticing. From that day until six in the evening, I remember absolutely nothing. Meetings, calls, lunch, nothing. It was, without a doubt, one of the most unproductive days of my life.

***

At six people started leaving. First the assistants, then the analysts, then Ramiro. Each goodbye hit me like a blow to the chest. I kept staring at a spreadsheet I’d already checked three times. At six twenty, the main room lights shut off automatically, triggered by the motion sensor. Only my office light and the hallway reflection remained.

At six thirty I heard the click of the front door lock.

At first I thought we were going out. That we’d take a taxi to some downtown hotel, one of those that charges by the hour and doesn’t ask for ID. That he had everything planned. But when I saw him come into my office, apron still on, I understood we weren’t going anywhere.

—Is everyone gone? —I asked, my mouth dry.

—A while ago, engineer.

He walked over to my desk. He didn’t say another word. He unbuckled his belt with two motions, pulled the gray trousers down to mid-thigh, and took off his underwear. His cock was at my eye level, pitch black, thick, still half mast and already enormous. It hung heavy, with veins standing out as they ran up the shaft, the purple, shining head peeking out from a thick foreskin. The balls, two hairy, full globes, swayed slowly with the movement. He smelled like a man who’d worked all day: sweat, closed-in clothing, a male, salty smell that filled my mouth before I’d even touched him.

He didn’t ask. He didn’t beg. He just stood there.

I bent down and opened my mouth.

***

I took it first in my hand. It felt hot, thick, alive. It was heavy. I ran my tongue from the balls to the tip in one long lick, following the thick vein running underneath. Mr. Aurelio let out a faint breath through his nose, as if confirming a calculation he already knew. Then I licked his balls, one by one, carefully taking them into my mouth because of their size. The coarse hair stuck to my lips. The smell was stronger down there, a smell of caged male that made my own cock harder than it already was.

He got hard extremely fast. I felt it growing in my hand, the foreskin tightening back on its own, the head swelling purple and glossy in front of my face. I thought I knew what a big cock was until that night. Mr. Aurelio corrected me patiently.

I opened my mouth as wide as I could and took it in. The head filled my lips at once. I went down slowly, swallowing saliva, feeling how it stretched the corners of my mouth. Halfway down I choked. I pulled back a little, inhaled through my nose, and went down again. I licked it all, from base to tip, tie still knotted, in my own office, in a chair with the company crest embroidered on the backrest.

—That’s so good, my engineer —he murmured, one hand on the back of my neck, not pressing—. The engineer sucks so well.

—Do you like it? —I asked between gulps, strings of saliva hanging from my chin.

—I like your suckable lips, engineer. Pink. Made for this.

—Really?

—Really. Suck it all. Balls and everything. Like this, my engineer, like that.

He pushed the back of my neck just slightly. I went down as far as I could, eyes watering, and felt the tip shove against the back of my throat. I choked, coughed, a thread of spit slipped out onto the gray uniform trousers, and I came back up to breathe. Mr. Aurelio laughed softly, with that deep laugh, and ran his thumb over my lips.

—And I want to eat your ass, engineer. I’ve wanted it since Monday.

—Since Monday?

—Since I saw you come into the kitchen in that white shirt. I pictured myself burying it in you right there, between the cups.

Every time he said “engineer,” something tightened in my chest. A man like him, who had been sweeping offices for decades, who had learned how to read men long before I learned how to read balance sheets, calling me “engineer” with his mouth full of me —or better said, with my mouth full of him— was more than I could bear. I sucked his cock hungrily. I sucked it like I’d never sucked anything else, both hands at the base, moving my head fast, swallowing every drop of precum he leaked onto my tongue.

I stood up. My mouth was swollen and my lips were shiny with saliva. I fumbled at my pants with clumsy fingers. I loosened my tie without taking it off. I turned my back to him, bracing both hands on the desk over my own reports. Mr. Aurelio didn’t wait for instructions. He yanked my pants and underwear down in one motion, leaving my ass bare under the cold light of the lamp.

—Like this, my white little engineer —he said, squeezing my ass with both hands, hard—. Nice and white. What a delicious little ass.

He spread me open with his thumbs. I felt myself exposed completely, my asshole open to the lamp on the desk. He crouched behind me and I felt, all at once, his hot tongue licking me there. A moan escaped me, which I muffled against my arm. His tongue moved hard, thick, pushing inward, soaking my hole with saliva. Then one finger went in. Then two. He moved them in circles inside me, opening me up. I clenched my teeth into the sleeve of my shirt so I wouldn’t cry out.

—So tight, the engineer —he murmured while he licked me—. Your ass is so tight, don’t tell me you haven’t used it before.

—Not like this —I answered, my voice breaking.

—Ah. Then you’re going to like this.

His hands were rough, callused, the hands of a man who works with buckets and wax and wood. He wasn’t tender. It wasn’t necessary. A few seconds later I felt him straighten behind me and spit on my hole, and then the tip of his cock, thick and broad, pressing against the opening, searching for the gap.

He pushed my head down onto the desk with one open hand between my shoulder blades. Then I felt the tip set itself against me. It went in slowly, without pausing, without violence. I felt him opening me with every centimeter, as if it were a millimeter at a time and all at once. The head forced through the ring first, and I ran out of air there, eyes squeezed shut, biting the sleeve of my own shirt so I wouldn’t make a sound. Then the shaft, thick, pushing from inside a place I hadn’t known existed. I felt his balls bump softly against mine when he finished going in.

—You’re mine now, my engineer —he said when he’d buried it all the way—. This ass is all mine.

And he started to move.

***

He fucked me like he knew exactly the rhythm that would break me. He pulled almost all the way out and drove all the way back in, and every time he came in again I let my breath out in a rush. My own papers crumpled under my hands, soaked with sweat and a thread of spit dripping from my open mouth. The first minute hurt, then it didn’t hurt anymore, then it wasn’t pain at all. It was something new, a void filling and emptying at a brutal pace, with my balls tight and my cock dripping onto the carpet on its own.

Mr. Aurelio grabbed my waist with both hands and shook me against his hip. I heard the slap of his heavy balls hitting mine, plap, plap, plap, a wet, obscene sound bouncing off the empty office walls. I felt his hard belly crashing into my lower back with each thrust.

—Look at me, engineer —he said, pulling my hair back.

I turned my head as best I could. He looked me in the eye while burying himself in me, smiling with those thick lips, and drove in with a thrust that made me open my mouth without a sound.

—Tell me who this ass belongs to, engineer.

—Yours, Mr. Aurelio.

—Again.

—Yours. All yours.

—That’s more like it.

He let go of my hair. He shoved my head back against the desk, face down on the new client’s reports, and sped up. I could feel his whole cock going in and out, how my ass had opened for him, how my own cock was bumping the edge of the desk with every thrust. I was about to come without touching myself. That had never happened to me before.

Then the landline on the desk rang.

I stared at it in panic. I thought of Ramiro, of some client, of the ridiculous possibility that someone had come upstairs and was calling from another office. I nudged it slightly with my hip, signaling wait. Mr. Aurelio stayed still, still inside me, holding his breath. I could feel every beat of his cock inside me. I tried to breathe deeply so my voice would sound normal.

I picked up the receiver.

—Love?

It was Lucía. She’d been calling my cell and I hadn’t noticed. She was worried because it was already seven and I hadn’t said anything.

—Love, sorry. I’m a little delayed at the office, I’ve got a few things left to finish. Thirty minutes and I’m out.

Lucía started telling me something about the kids’ school. Something about the year-end recital. Something about her mother, who was arriving on Saturday.

Mr. Aurelio listened to me. He waited for two sentences. Then, with a smile I couldn’t see but felt in my back, he started fucking me hard again. He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back into me in one stroke. A soundless gasp slipped out of me. He pulled back out again. Slammed into me again. I was already stretched open, there was no more pain, but the surprise made me bite my lips so I wouldn’t moan into the receiver. I closed my eyes. My wife talking about the kids’ recital, and Mr. Aurelio driving himself into me with every word.

—Yes, love, of course —I said, my voice shaking—. Of course. Tell them I’ll be there for dinner.

Mr. Aurelio leaned over my back. His hot breath reached my free ear. He started thrusting more slowly, but deeper, driving me against the desk with every penetration, grinding his cock inside me in cruel circles. With one hand he reached down and grabbed my cock, hard and wet, and started jerking me off in the same rhythm. I could feel sweat running down my forehead and Lucía’s voice talking about chicken or fish.

Lucía is the kind of woman who, once she starts talking, never stops. And I couldn’t cut her off. I couldn’t, because cutting her off would have been worse. It would have been suspicious. So I endured. I endured with that black cock inside me, my chest against the glass top of the desk, my ear pressed to the receiver. I endured listening to the mother of my children ask me whether I wanted chicken or fish for dinner, while Mr. Aurelio sped up and jerked me off in sync, squeezing my cock between his rough fingers.

—Chicken —I said, in a thin thread of a voice—. Chicken, love. I love you. I’ll be home soon.

I hung up.

And when I hung up, Mr. Aurelio groaned as if he’d been waiting a week. He let go of my cock, grabbed my waist with both hands, and fucked me for real. There was no restraint left. He pulled out almost all the way and drove in all the way, with an animal, brutal rhythm that shook my whole body over the desk.

—Hang on, engineer —he panted through his teeth—. Hang on, because I’m going to fill you up. I’m going to leave your ass full so you can take it home with you.

—Yes, Mr. Aurelio.

—Say it. Tell me what you want.

—Cum inside me.

—Louder.

—Cum inside me, Mr. Aurelio. Fill me up.

—That’s it, my engineer. That’s it.

***

I heard him speeding up, felt his hands seize my hips with a force that was going to leave bruises. His hips slammed against my ass in a frenzied rhythm, and his fat balls struck below, an obscene splash that filled the office. A few seconds later he let out a low, long groan, buried himself to the hilt, and stayed there, pressing me against the desk with all his weight. I felt his cock swell inside me, throbbing. I felt the shots, one after another, thick, filling me. One, two, three, four. Each pulse pumped more semen inside me, hot, thick. I felt his forehead against the back of my neck. I felt his thick mouth leaving me a kiss behind the ear.

—That’s so good, my engineer —he murmured—. Feels so good coming inside you.

He kissed my cheek. He stayed still inside me a little longer, still hard, enjoying the squeeze. My own cock was still standing, dripping onto the carpet. Without pulling out, he reached down under me, wrapped his hand around it, and with three or four rough strokes made me cum too. I came over my own reports, with a shudder that ran up from my feet. I let out a broken moan against the wood of the desk.

—That’s it, engineer —he whispered—. That’s it.

He withdrew slowly. I felt his whole cock sliding out, centimeter by centimeter, and once it was out, a hot thread of semen began running down the inside of my thigh. I stayed open for a second, empty, my ass throbbing. He pulled his trousers back up with a calm that seemed obscene, buckled his belt, ran a hand over the apron to smooth it down. Then he walked to my office door, turned for a second, looked at me over his shoulder, and left.

I stayed there. Bent over the desk. With my pants around my ankles, the crumpled, stained papers under my chest, and semen running down my legs. The lamp light hit one side of my face.

It took me a few minutes to move. My heart took longer than my body to calm down. Then I got dressed, cleaned myself as best I could with some paper tissues from the drawer —my hole still stretched, wet, impossible to hide completely—, brushed my teeth in the floor bathroom, ran my fingers through my hair. I went down all twelve floors by the stairs; I didn’t want the elevator. With every step I could feel the semen shifting inside me.

I got home in time for dinner. Lucía served chicken. I smiled at her. The kids told me about the recital.

That night, in bed, while Lucía slept, I reached a hand back there and it still burned. I put a finger in. I was open, soft, and it came out wet. I brought it to my nose. It smelled like him. I closed my eyes. Engineer.

I knew I’d go back to the office on Monday. And I knew perfectly well who I’d be running into in the elevator.