The Peeper

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Art by Michael Kirwan 

 Story by William Cozad

 

originally published in Honcho Magazine - January, 1991 issue

 

I was prowling around the arcade. It was littered with tissue paper and used rubbers. A real stink that Lysol couldn't hide! The place was starting to look like a health department inspector's worst nightmare!

Since it was a chilly night on Polk Street and the cops were cracking down on loitering and obstructing doorways, it had driven a lot of semi-pros inside to hustle. I think the merchants described the cruising activity between tricks and johns like that of a shark tank at feeding time.

In the course of my own meandering around the room full of video booths, I discovered that an enterprising customer had drilled some peepholes between the plywood partitions--not the size of glory holes, but big enough to spy through. Though I'd never been into watching other people get it on, I would sometimes look into a booth if a hustler had his shirt off and was beating his meat, trying to entice a client. Then there were the exhibitionist duos who left the door to the booth open so that you couldn't help but see them go at it.

Voyeurism. I guess that's the name for it. I'd once known a guy who was into that trip. His scene was to check into this cheap Market Street hotel across the street from a big tourist hotel, then whip out his binoculars and spend many happy hours spying into the rooms of people across the street. He told all sorts of lurid tales about seeing prostitutes and servicemen in hot sex-action. And while he never admitted it, I could tell by the heavy breathing which accompanied his descriptions that he'd hauled his dick out and played with it while he had watched.

I began a little spying of my own, watching the man in the next booth. He was sitting on the bench, completely unaware that I was watching him. And his eyes were fixed on the monitor showing a fuck video. The light from the screen flickered and there was the sound of moaning. Then, while I watched the young man rub his crotch, my own cock got hard.

The video must have gotten to the good part because when the guy watching it took out his prick, it was as hard as a rock. While he watched the action on the TV monitor, he stroked his dick--a stiff, cut one that pointed upward. At first he stroked it slow, then faster and faster. Then I sort of joined in, pulling my own prick. But before long I was rudely interrupted by a banging on the door of my booth.

"Drop tokens if you're going to stay in the booth," a gruff voice said.

It was obviously the attendant, so I fished into my pocket and dumped a token into the slot. Of course I figured that the interruption had scared off the guy in the next booth. But nope. He was still seated and stroking his cock. So I started flogging my meat in the same rhythm--although he was unaware of it.

Faster and faster he beat his meat. Then he grunted and his cock went off like a water hose. I mean to say the pressure of his orgasm made him go off like a sprinkler! Even in the semi-darkness of the booth I could see his creamy white jism hit the floor like foam on a dark sea. I stopped jacking myself because I didn't want to get off right away, knowing that sometimes after I got my gun I just wanted to go home and crash. But that night I wanted more time to explore the peepholes I'd discovered.

Wandering around the room, I avoided the gazes of obvious hustlers. One of them was rubbing his basket, trying to get somebody hot enough to pay for what was inside. That certainly wasn't what I was looking for!

I felt like a spy on a mission. But it also made me feel like one of those vice cops who stand behind the screens of heating vents in public toilets and watch for homosexual activity, then make busts. Some cops even stand at urinals as decoys [so I've heard] and stroke their meat to entice contact, create a crime if you will, then put the bracelets on some poor sucker.

But none of these thoughts stopped me from going into the booth where the young man shot his wad and taking a look at it. I even stepped in the slimy goo on the floor! No doubt he'd shot a hell of a load. The room even smelled of his body odor and jism.

All of a sudden someone entered the booth I'd just left. Since he had taken another guy inside with him, I couldn't help but take a look through the peephole. Their crotches were almost in my face! They groped each other and took out each other's cock. Both were big beauties. One was cut, but the other wasn't. They went to work jacking each other's cock. Then, just as I took my cock out, one of them kneeled down on the grimy floor and stuffed the other's big, drooling uncut cock in his mouth.

The suckee rubbed the brunet's hair while the brunet's motor-mouth worked on his friend's cock. Then, he let go of the throbbing cock and sucked the man's balls. Never mind that I had whipped out my meat and started to jack it! It was almost like I could feel the cock-sucker's lips on my own boner!

Suddenly, the suckee pulled the brunet up to his feet. At first I thought maybe they'd discovered me watching them and were going to another booth for privacy. But nothing doing. The guy getting his cock sucked wanted a chance to munch on his pal's goodies. Dropping to his knees, he went to work licking on 3" cut cock that was shorter but thicker than his own uncut tool.

Never missing a stroke on my huge erection, I looked down and watched the blond jack his own cock while he serviced the brunet. He sucked and I beat off along with him without his knowledge or consent. But I didn't care. It was as though I was on a spy mission and I could do whatever I pleased as long as I didn't get caught at it.

Before long the blond took his mouth off the bloated cockhead and beat it while he jacked himself off faster and faster. By the brunet's groans and moans, I could tell that he wasn't going to hold out much longer. Then, all of a sudden, the cocksucker (obviously an expert in these matters) got down on his pal's big cock and sucked it dry, mercilessly squeezing those pendulous balls to get every drop of the load.

I stopped jacking myself. I still didn't want to finish yet. Good thing too because the brunet evidently believed that one good suck deserved another. Crouching on his knees, he started to suck on the big uncut cock like a vacuum cleaner. Then he jacked the shaft and worked on the cock-head, exposed from its sheath.

"It's fucking cumming!" the blond screamed.

The brunet furiously jacked the shaft but kept his mouth on the bloated head. I could see him swallow. Then, like a snake eating a mouse, he gulped the jizz down his throat not spilling a drop of it!

I just squeezed my cock and stared as one zipped his fly and the other buttoned up. I could have gone for an encore. But soon one of them exited the booth, then the other.

I took a walk around the maze of cubicles. My crotch was packed hard and I noticed an old geezer who was determined to get at me. But I was having nothing to do with him even though he bird-dogged me around the booths until he spotted an open door with an occupant. Then he went inside and some hungry cock-sucker snagged him like a fly in a spider's web.

I walked around awhile longer. The crowd had started to thin. But just as I was about to call it a night, I ducked into a cubicle and peered through the peephole. What I saw was hotter than any of the live sex shows you have to pay to see!

One of the guys was a kid who looked to be eighteen or nineteen, likely a hustler who'd found a score. He was flexing his biceps and posing. Then I heard him say, "Get down on that dick, man!"

The other guy was maybe ten years older, not bad looking either. Both of them were dark-complected, but the dim light made it hard to distinguish their features. They didn't bother with playing the video and the attendant wasn't around to insist. But from a crack of light that had seeped through the booth, I saw the older guy put a bill into the younger one's hand.

 

"For this I fuck your face 'til you cum?" The kid had a deep voice, and he sounded like rough trade. The older guy unzipped the hustler's fly and took out a soft, cut cock. Then he jacked it. But nothing stirred.

"Can you get it up?"

"Yeah but you gotta suck it a little, asshole." The hustler stuffed his cock in the man's mouth. Then, his dick got hard alright! And before long it swelled so big that the cock-sucker had to spit it out and settle on jacking the spit-soaked cock while he looked at it.

It was a nice teenaged cock with tender milky-white flesh and a leafy pattern of blue veins underneath. Naturally I got my cock out and fondled it till it was hard and pulsing. Then I heard the hustler say, "Blow me. Oh yeah, that's it. My meat feels so good in your fucking mouth."

The cocksucker sucked and sucked on the cock. Then he stopped, like he had lockjaw or something. "Can't you cum?" he asked.

"Not for ten dollars, dude. Want me to cum, it'll cost you twenty."

The man put another bill into the hustler's hand. Then the teenaged hustler looked at the money like maybe it would make him cum. "Damn!" he cursed, frantically tugging at his joint.

Watching the man blow the teenaged hustler made me horny. But seeing the money and the reason for it left my tool only semi-hard. It wasn't like I was the one who had to pay. It's just that I thought sex should be for love, not money.

The man continued to blow the teenager. But as far as I could tell the hustler was a long way from cumming. His cock stayed sort of rubbery, sliding in and out of the man's mouth. Then, after a while, the cock-sucker made a suggestion: "Maybe you could get it off if you fucked me. You like to fuck, don't you?"

"Sure. But I charge more for that."

"How much?"

"Another sawbuck."

By my calculation the cock-sucker's bill was up to thirty bucks and it was still dubious whether he'd get the hustler off or not. But I noticed that more money exchanged hands.

 


Before long the man dropped his pants and I discovered that he wasn't wearing any shorts. He had a nice round smooth butt, leading me to believe that with an ass like that he shouldn't have to pay to get it fucked. Hell! I'd have done it for nothing! But then again I was only a spectator.

I watched the hustler feel the man's meaty butt cheeks. He spit right in the crack. Then I could have sworn a wisp of smoke escaped from the man's steamy butthole. Tugging on my ball sack and grasping my shaft, I was ready to be a silent part of the action.

"Stick it up my ass. Yeah! Sock it to me, baby."

"Shut the fuck up, asshole. You're getting this cheap because you ain't an old fart and I want to do it. When I get down with you, you'll know you been dorked."

I started pulling my prick right away as I watched the teenager's cock sink into that beefy ass. I could almost feel the heat, the fiery hole, the ass lips clutching my cock. Then I imagined what it would be like to feel the hustler's balls banging against my ass cheeks.

"Fuck it! Fuck that ass!"

Pour on the coal, I thought. Really give it to the sonuvabitch! I had to bite my lip so that I didn't utter a sound. One peep out of me and I would have been discovered; the action would have been over. Who knows? The hustler might have jammed a pen through the hole and into my eye. Or maybe he'd have busted down the door and done a number on me, stomped my ass, crushed my bones and left me in a pool of blood on the floor that reeked with stale piss and cum.

I was stroking my prick. But suddenly I stopped in order to keep control. I didn't want to cum despite the hot action because I didn't want to pant and scream and call attention to myself.

It was plain that the hustler was an experienced fucker. While he fed his cock to that hungry butt, the guy who was getting poked moaned and moved his ass around and bucked back at the stiff prick that had invaded it. By simply watching the fucking I could almost feel my cock in that hot fuck-hole. Then my asshole gave a twitch and I dropped my pants and fingered my hole while I beat my meat, stopping just short of climax--and discovery.

The hustler held onto the man's waist and really plowed into his ass. I mean to say his cock fucked that hole hard and fast! Then his balls started to slap against the fuckee's nuts.

"Shoot it! Shoot that hot load up my ass. Do it now! Aw, fuck. Oh, shit. I can feel it. Ohhh!"

The hustler rammed his cock all the way up the man's asshole, then he threw back his head and his knees buckled. "Take it, man! Take my fucking load."

"Stay inside me. I gotta fucking cum or I'll die," the man moaned.

"Hurry up, man."

In the shadowy booth I could tell that the guy who was taking it up the ass was also beating his meat. He fisted his prick fast and furious. "Get it off, mother-fucker. I gotta go," the hustler complained.

"Just one more minute. Please. Oh God, I'm cumming!"

Because of the angle of my position at the peephole--and because of the shadows--I saw the jizz ooze out but I couldn't tell where it landed. The hustler crudely pulled his prick out of the man's gaping asshole. Then he wiped the crud onto the man's butt cheeks and hoisted his jeans.

"You were wonderful! I really needed that," the man sighed.

"Then give me a tip."

"I'm sorry, I'm tapped out. Next time ... I promise."

"Fuck you. That never happens." It sounded as though the teenaged hustler spat. I don't know if it was in the guy's face or whether it landed on the floor. But he split and the other man soon exited.

Wouldn't you know that not thirty seconds passed before another guy came into the booth. It amused me how he searched the floor for telltale Signs, probably looking for the cum of the guy who got fucked. Then he sniffed the air, like he got high on the sex stench, and whipped out his cock and started to jack it. No doubt his cock was one of the thickest I'd ever seen, literally like a beer can!

"Hot fucking sex. Cock-sucking and ass-fucking. Hustling little scumbag. Horny john. God damn filthy bastards," the man in the next booth raved on and on while he furiously beat off. He was probably loony, lust-crazed. But he had a huge cock--a fantasy cock that the mere sight of made me want to get my rocks off.

"Dirty, disgusting Peeping-Tom! You saw it all, didn't you? Took my fucking peephole, damn you!" he ranted, whacking his meat like a madman. "Take this, you depraved asshole! Here's mud in your eye!"

Before I could back away, he aimed his spurting cock--right at the peephole and white-washed it. A glob of cum hit me square in the eye. But I was so hot that I lost all control and splattered a wad all over the wall. Then it dripped down onto the floor, mingling with other puddles of spunk.

As soon as my cock had popped, I hightailed it out of the arcade. No telling what the demented guy would do next. But my guess was that he'd stuff those peepholes with tissue paper until he was ready to use them himself!
 


THE     END

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Any images, writings or other content on this website may be copied for personal viewing only.
They may not be: redistributed; sold; altered; enhanced; modified by artificial, digital or computer imaging;
used on another website or blog; posted to any internet or computer newsgroup, forum or media sharing site;
nor used for any other purpose without the express written permission of the artist or KirwanArts.com.