Janelle & the Janitor

"My pleasure, all part of the service Miss," Wayne joked, pretending to tip his hat to me, although he obviously wasn't wearing a hat.

I laughed at his joke, then made haste for the female toilets. Going inside, I changed the rolls over in each stall, putting one roll on the cistern and one on the holder and disposing of the empty cardboard tubes into the bin, before returning to the first stall, closing and locking the door.

Inside, I hitched up my pleated blue skirt to expose my light pink, bikini-style panties, the oblong shape of my napkin visible in my crotch, the wings that held it in place on my panty saddle also visible. Standing in front of the toilet, I hooked my thumbs into my panties and pulled them down to my ankles and sitting my bare bottom down on the toilet seat.

With my legs open at the knees, my pussy was on display. I knew that some of my classmates were shaving their vaginas now, some even removing any trace of pubic hair from their pussies, but I was not one of those girls. I did some landscaping work around my bikini lines in summer, but otherwise I sported a full bush of dark curly pubic hair over my feminine mound and my twat. I was a girl who firmly subscribed to the theory that sharp objects such as razors and hot wax should not be allowed anywhere near my genitals, so therefore my very hairy pussy.

I relaxed the muscles in my urethra, and soon began to urinate, my bright yellow pee tinkling into the toilet bowl, the sound echoing in the quiet of the girls' bathroom. As I continued to have my piss I looked between my legs and could see the toilet water was yellow from my urine, but the color changed quickly to something resembling pink grapefruit juice, as my menses dripped out of my pussy and the blood intermingled with the pee in the toilet water.

When my pee stream abated I got some sheets of toilet paper from the roll, wiped my hairy pussy and dropped the used toilet tissue, wet with my pee and stained red by my period, into the bowl. Adjusting my position on the toilet, I did a gross thing that only girls for obvious reasons could do - farting both from my front bottom and my back bottom at the same time.

"That is so disgusting, Janelle," I said to myself, able to smell the fishy odor from my pussy fart, and the rotten cabbage-like smell from my proper fart from my anus. Straining ever so slightly, my anus opened and from my rectum came a huge amount of poo. Sticky, messy and very smelly, with the consistency of oatmeal, it went everywhere in the toilet bowl, splashing into the water, and my menstrual blood made it all the more gross.

I unwound some toilet paper and wiped my bottom, the toilet tissue coming away from my vagina and my anus smeared in dark red period blood and smelly brown poo, the second length of toilet paper suffering the same fate when applied to my private female area.

While farting on the toilet again, this preceding another rush of smelly bowel movements, I looked down at my lowered pink panties and my period pad. The pad's cover showed quite a few dark red menstrual stains courtesy of my heavy flow, but I wouldn't need to change it during this bathroom visit. I would change it when I got home, then before bed I would change my next pad into an overnight one.

"Phew," I said, waving my hand under my nose as I again got toilet paper to wipe my dirty bottom. My poo smelled so bad today, like it did every time I had my period. And of course, I could smell my menstrual blood too which made things even smellier. I wished the school would put toilet freshener in the girls' bathrooms so we could use it whenever we had smelly number twos, but given that sometimes they could not supply their female students with adequate toilet paper, this seemed unlikely.

At least though as I was in the girls' room no boys would be able to smell the aftermath of what I had done, unlike my experience at Thanksgiving last year just after I turned 18. We went to stay with my uncle - Daddy's brother - and his wife and two sons (my cousins) and I had started my period that night.

I woke up very early on Thanksgiving morning feeling how wet my overnight pad was between my legs and with a desperate urgency in my bowels. Hurrying to the bathroom, I sat barefoot on the toilet with my oversized tee-shirt hitched up and my panties around my ankles for close to 20 minutes, pooing and farting and using heaps of toilet paper as I stank the bathroom out. When I eventually finished I changed my napkin, flushed the toilet and washed my hands, but forgot to spray any toilet freshener around. Opening the bathroom door, my smelly overnight pad in a sanitary bag to be taken to the outside trash, I walked right into my two male cousins who were waiting for me to finally get my stinky little ass off the toilet.

I could see the look of revulsion on my cousins' faces as the smell of my poo and my period escaped the confined spaces of the bathroom, and their look of horror that I was carrying a sanitary disposal bag. During the day neither my male cousins nor I could look at each other the right way, and I think the thing they both gave thanks for was that they did not have the same monthly girls' problems as their cousin Janelle!

Once again, I pooped and this this time, my bowels seemed to be empty. I used heaps of toilet paper to wipe myself clean, but like any menstruating teenage girl, no toilet paper was safe around me at that time of the month.

When there was no poo on my final piece of toilet paper I stood up and flushed the toilet, but not before I looked into the bowl and saw that I had done a 'period poo' - several large clots of menstrual blood that had slid from my vag and gone into the toilet water.

The clean water banished my bodily wastes and my dirty toilet paper to the sewer systems where it belonged, but the terrible smell of the poo obviously still remained. Bending forward, I pulled up my panties and adjusted my pad securely and comfortably around my crotch, before smoothing down my skirt.

Exiting the toilet cubicle, I washed my hands thoroughly with plenty of soap and water, massaged my tummy as a period cramp went through my uterus, then opened the exterior bathroom door and saw Wayne just finishing up his work.

"You feeling better now, Janelle?" he asked me.

"Yes, much better," I said.

"Thought you'd fallen in for a while there," he smiled.

I blushed a little, knowing I had spent ages on the toilet, so it was obvious to Wayne what I had been doing in there, although he couldn't have known I was on my period. "No nothing like that." I then suddenly stopped. "How do you know my name?"

"Course I know your name, Janelle. I see you around all the time, notice you all the time Janelle," said Wayne. I could see he was eyeing me off, checking me out like a pretty girl at the beach and the mall. Given my vagina was currently expelling a rush of period blood into my napkin as my stomach cramped and I had just taken a massive smelly shit I didn't feel all that pretty, but Wayne definitely seemed interested and that made me feel flattered and hot.

"You notice me all the time?" I asked.

"Sure, you're always around the place with your other theatre kid friends, working on your lines, rehearsing your next production," said Wayne, his Southern drawl making me feel horny. "Plus, how could I not notice you Janelle Jepson? Nobody ever told you how pretty you are? Especially today, dressed up in your tight sweater, pleated skirt, long socks and perfect white sneakers. If I was a homo, one look at you would turn me straight."

I blushed and giggled nervously. "I'm not pretty."

"Sure you are Janelle, sure you are. I know you're pretty Janelle, you know you're pretty. Plus I don't just notice how pretty you are. I know you look at me. I know what you're thinking about every time that you see me."

Wayne's tone became even more suggestive. "I think I'm in your thoughts when you put your fingers into a place you were told not to. I know that whenever I'm doing something I was always taught was a sin that you're the star of the show in my head."

It was like Wayne was telepathic. How did he know that I did indeed masturbate over him? And he jerked off over me? Wow, mind completely blown. "I don't, I never ..." I stammered, but Wayne extended his finger and put it over my mouth.

"Shsh," he said, to which I complied, regarding Wayne with my wide brown nervous eyes.

"I know what you must be feeling, Janelle," he said. "You have these thoughts about me, thoughts you can never tell anyone. If your Mom or your Daddy knew what their 18-year-old daughter was thinking about a guy like me, they'd have a fit. I know if I had an 18-year-old daughter who liked a guy like me, I'd have a heart attack. But it's okay to have those thoughts, and it's okay to do something about them too. I'm a man, you're a woman, were both over 18 and not related."

My heart was racing, and I couldn't decide whether I wanted to do what my heart desired, or be the goody two shoes theatre kid who would never put a foot wrong I had always been. In my state of near-panic, I decided on the latter.

"I'd better be going," I said nervously, but as I turned to leave Wayne stopped me.

"We both know that's what you don't want to be going Janelle." He pointed at the girls' bathroom. "I know you'd rather go in there with me. Come on, don't be nervous, we'll go real nice and slow, I promise."

Feeling my pulse surging to crazy levels and butterflies in my tummy as I followed Wayne towards the girls' toilets, still unable to believe that I was going to kiss my crush - at school such interactions between students and staff were forbidden for obvious reasons. What if we got caught? Then I reminded myself that nobody else was around, and that therefore the chances of this were slim.

Still, Wayne was taking no chances. He pushed his janitor's trolley to the bathroom door, took out the 'Closed for Cleaning Sign' and placed it in front of the door, before taking his backpack off the trolley and going inside, the nervous but excited me going in after him.

I was relieved that Wayne led me to the changing cubicles and showers in the left hand side of the girls' bathroom rather than the toilet area, given that I had been such a smelly little bitch and completely stank out this area of the bathroom when I had had a shit and presumably the smell still lingered.

"You know when I was at high school myself back home in Kentucky, I always wanted to make out with one of the pretty theatre girls like you," said Wayne, stroking my face with his fingers and causing me to go weak at my knees.

"So why didn't you?" I asked.

"Because I was a goddamned stupid snob," said Wayne. "I grew up in a trailer park, and everyone would have laughed at me hanging out with the theatre kids rather than listening to heavy metal, so I worried about how I looked. But now I'm not living in a trailer park in Kentucky, I'm with the prettiest theatre kid I've ever met and I couldn't give a fuck what people said."

With that, Wayne lowered his handsome, rugged face into mine and we kissed on the lips. I could smell that he smoked, but although a non-smoker myself, it didn't bother me too much. It certainly didn't bother my pussy, as I could feel my clitoris tingling between my legs.

Wayne and I kissed deeper, out tongues intertwining as we French-kissed. I couldn't believe Wayne and I were making out in the girls' bathroom at high school, and things only got hotter when I felt Wayne's hands on my body, running up and down my back, and lingering on my bra clasp through the fabric of my sweater and my shirt.

One of Wayne's hands made its way to my left leg, teasing the hem of my skirt before moving slowly up my thigh towards my panties. It was then that I began to freak, knowing what he would find up there.

'You're on your period Janelle, you need to tell him,' the little voice inside my head urged me, but I couldn't find the words to say as Wayne's hand drew nearer to the leg elastic of my panties.

'Janelle, you are wearing a period pad in your panties to catch the blood that is coming out of your vagina, you need to say something,' the internal voice in my brain said, but again I was struck dumb. Wayne's hand was well up my skirt, brushing against my panty fabric now, and dangerously close to my crotch.

'Wayne is going to absolutely freak when he touches your napkin and finds out that you're on the rag, Janelle,' the voice reminded me, but before I could even attempt to say anything I felt Wayne's fingers on my panty saddle, and him go absolutely rigid as he felt the soft material of my sanitary napkin, and one of the wings that held it in place.

"What?" he gasped, both of us stopping kissing and Wayne moving his hand away from my underpants.

I felt panic in my tummy. Wayne had discovered I was having my period, something I should have told him about before we started all this. Now he would think I was nothing but a little cock tease who had led him on. Adrenaline raced through my body, and being such a teenage drama queen anyway any attempts at controlling my emotions went out the window.

It was Wayne who spoke first. "You got your period, Janelle?"

"Yes, oh Wayne, I'm so sorry," I pleaded, feeling tears welling up my big brown eyes. "You must think I'm I terrible tease, I should have told you I was on my period, I didn't mean to lead you on, you must be so freaked out and mad at me. I swear I'll jerk you off, and I'll suck your cock, and as soon as my period is over I'll have proper sex with you. I wasn't leading you on, I promise."

Wayne to my relief was not mad. He gave me a reassuring smile. "Janelle, come and sit with me for a few minutes," he said, leading me to the bench in the changing cubicle and sitting me down, then getting his bag and retrieving me some tissues, which I used to wipe the tears from my eyes. He put his arm around me to reassure me as I regained my composure.

"Why are you being so nice to me, you don't seem mad," I said.

"Janelle, I'm not mad," Wayne reassured me. He took one of my hands in his and gave it a squeeze, and put his other hand on my knee, just below the hem of my skirt. "When I went in here with you I was thinking that there was only one thing that could make screwing a pretty theatre kid like you better."

"And what is that?"

"Fucking a theatre kid when she's on her period."

My mouth dropped open in utter disbelief. Unusually for me I couldn't find anything to say at first, before I managed to say, "You find periods sexy?"

Wayne nodded. "Uh huh. It's my fetish. Most guys have a fetish. Some guys are into fat chicks, some like feet, others like smelling girls' panties or watching girls having a piss. For me, it's periods."

"Periods are not sexy, Wayne," I said. "They're inconvenient, messy, smelly and painful." As if to emphasize my last point, my uterus cramped and I clutched my tummy in pain as the menstrual pain went through my abdomen.

"That's because you have periods," said Wayne.

"I have two elbows too, and they're not sexy. Why do you get turned on by periods?"

Wayne laughed lightly. "Maybe because they're such a personal and private female thing? Guys don't get periods obviously, and we have no idea what they're like, it's all a big mystery to us. It's sort of like the forbidden zone. Say you spent the summer in a great big beautiful mansion and you were allowed to go into any room you wanted at any time, but were told you were not allowed to go into the attic. Where would you want to go?"

The answer was obvious. "The attic."

"That's like it is with me and periods. Periods are the most personal things about a girls' life, and no business of guys at all. And girls don't have any choice about periods, it just happens to them. It's not like sex, where girls choose when, where, why and with who they have sex. They don't have to have sex, but they do have to manage their periods every month. It's also really hard to believe that pretty girls actually get their periods. So maybe that's why periods turn me on, because they're so private, so female and I'm not supposed to be turned on by them." Wayne laughed. "Either that or I'm just crazy."

"Most guys are very freaked out by periods," I observed.

"True," said Wayne. "Like my older brother, he's terrified of his wife when she's got her period. Mind you, she's scary anyway so I don't blame him. I'm shit scared of her too."

I smiled, feeling more relaxed. "So period fetishes aren't genetic then?"

Wayne laughed. "No. But talking about families, when I was 18 my Mom's new boyfriend moved in with his two kids. There was Lori-Beth, she was 18 like me, and Tyrone, he was 14. Tyrone was an absolute little shit and I wanted to kill him, and Lori-Beth was a bitch but she was a hot blonde so I forgave her. And every four weeks, it was Lori-Beth's time of the month and her female hygiene wasn't too crash hot. She would always leave her dirty panties on the floor anyway, but when Lori-Beth was on her period her pads would still be attached, covered in blood. She would get gassy and walk around the trailer farting, and you could hear her farts against her pad, bubbling in the blood in her pussy. Then she would go to the bathroom and sit on the toilet for 20 minutes at a time, and her shit would stink out the whole trailer. Most of the time she would flush but sometimes she would forget, and the toilet bowl would be full of her menstrual blood and period-stained toilet paper. It should have grossed me out, but it turned me on. So much so that one night when she was on the rags she wanted sex, and I sure as fuck wanted sex and nobody else was around, so I got into Lori-Beth's panties and nailed her on her period. Best fuck I've ever had, period. Pun intended."

I laughed at Wayne's joke, but was still disbelieving. "You had sex with Lori-Beth on her period?" Lori-Beth's personal feminine hygiene sounded shocking, and I assumed would turn off most guys. Things got pretty gross with me when I was menstruating, but I always made sure my personal hygiene was A1 during my time of the month. I would never dream of leaving my dirty panties with napkins still attached on the floor, and would never neglect to flush the toilet.

"Yeah, but periods or no periods Lori-Beth turned me on because she was hot and I would have fucked her anyway. Her period just made her hotter. Like you Janelle, you're hot and I'd want to fuck you any day of the month, but fucking you when its your time of the month is much more of a turn on. It's kind of like ice-cream, I like vanilla ice-cream, but I prefer a nice chocolate sundae with the works than plain ice-cream."

I giggled. "With me at the moment, you wouldn't be having a chocolate sundae, you'd be having a strawberry sundae."

Wayne laughed. "That's a good one Janelle. Lucky for you, strawberry is my favorite flavor of sundae. I wish they made a strawberry sundae that tasted like Lori-Beth's pussy when I was eating her out on her period, and I bet you're gonna taste just as good as her when your panties come down." He put his hand further up my thigh under my skirt, until he touched my panties, before pulling back my pleated skirt so that my underwear was visible. Wayne's fingers stroked the pink cotton fabric of my panties, then he gently moved my legs apart so that the oblong shape of my napkin and the wings could be seen clearly in my panty saddle.

"Now that is what I call hot," said Wayne, feasting his eyes on my crotch. I felt a little shy that Wayne could see the shape of my period pad and its wings, but turned on too and my clitoris responded, sending a little shudder up my spine.

Wayne's hand went to my panties, stroking the front cotton panel first, then moved his hand between my legs, tracing the shape of my sanitary pad. Through my wide brown eyes, I watched Wayne's fingers linger on the pad's wings before he squeezed the soft feminine napkin through my undies. I still couldn't believe I was doing this, and could barely contain my excitement as Wayne lowered his face into my crotch and smelled my period pad through my panties.