Shower Power Peephole — A One-Way, Two-Way, Three-Way All-the-Way!

I shouldn’t have peeked in that peephole, but I couldn’t look away. If only I’d seen who was sneaking up behind me.

I have always had super long legs.

“Jenny,” my first boyfriend told me. “If your legs were any longer I would need to climb a stepladder before we got to fucking each other.”

What can I tell you? The man was a freaking goddamn poet.

Let me tell you — long legs are one hell of an asset for a woman to possess. Long legs can also come in awfully handy for basketball players, so it was no wonder that I was top of the women’s basketball team back in high school. As a matter of fact, I had been on top of some of the women’s basketball team while I was in my final year of high school — but THAT is another story.

Let me get back to my legs.

It has been ten years since my time in high school and I was still very proud of how my legs looked in tight athletic shorts and I knew that I could give most men an intense hard-on just by tensing my thighs slightly and leaning forward to look out of a window while they were standing behind me.

The funny thing is that it turned out that my long legs were great for my summer job as a track coach.

My long legs were an undeniable asset and I used that asset as best as I could manage to. Most of the girls in my classes wanted to be me and most of the boys wanted to do me.

It kept their attention nicely.

Not that I ever took their attention all that seriously. They were college kids, you understand. They were nice to look at and even to fantasize about but when it came right down to it I knew that it would be a very bad idea to try to make any of those pleasant wet dreams a reality.

Not that I had all that much to lose, you understand. It wasn’t all that much as summer jobs went. The pay sucked harder than a backed-up toilet and the office that I was given would have stood in nicely as a broom closet — if you had got around to giving it a proper paint job and maybe a window or two to peek out from.

Not that there was all that much to look at.

The school beside us was being renovated — which meant that I had to learn how to put up with the constant rattle of jack hammers, bulldozers and tanned men in bright yellow work vests.

There was also the head coach, Carl Reynolds, who was pleasant enough to look at and more my age range — so long as I chose to overlook the somewhat unfashionable hipster sideburns that the man proudly sported — but this was work and I was absolutely determined to see my way through the summer without any sort of an event.

Office romances were ALWAYS complicated and I did not intend to mess up this summer job by starting one.

Or at least that was the plan.

The whole thing started in my closet/office while I was rooting through some old files in the boxes that were stacked against the back wall of my closet/office on a set of some rusty iron shelving that looked as if it had been rescued from the barracks of a Napoleonic artillery battalion. I was looking for some permission forms for our track team’s next event.

That was when I found the peephole.

The peephole had been taped over with masking tape but age and dust had peeled that tape away and had left it dangling so when I moved the box I could see that there was light shining through the peephole.

My first thought was that somebody had been spying on me.

I know that might sound pretty fucked up but my last boyfriend had been a bit of a control-freak douche bag who I later found out had put a spy cam in my bedroom — which might have been kind of sexy in a weird fuck-kink kind of a way if he had actually bothered to tell me about that spy cam before he had gone and installed it.

He stalked me for a while and I am here to tell you that the most unpleasant experience you can imagine is walking down a street and not knowing who might be looking at you from behind.

It is an unpleasant feeling.

I suppose that experience should have made me wary about peeking into any sort of a peephole — especially when I could hear something coming from behind that sneaky little peephole.

Just the same, I had to look.

What can I tell you?

Curiosity, cats, and long-legged women — the urge to peek and poke around a mystery was absolutely irresistible.

I could hear water running on the other side of the wall.

It sounded like a shower running. Either that or the wall had sprung some sort of a leak.

I could also hear the sound of a man singing to himself.

He was singing an Elvis Presley tune. I recognized the song as one of his steamier love songs — “I Want You, I Need You, I Love You”.

He was almost on key and I am pretty sure that he got most of the lyrics almost right — at least as far as I remember them.

I took a peek through the hole just because I was plain old nosy — and besides, what normal woman does not want to sneak a good long peek at a naked wet man, any chance that she can get — particularly if he does not know that you are sneaking a peek?

It turned out that I was exactly right.

It was a shower. It was one of those big open stall, multi shower head faucets that kind of always reminded me of an open-air gangbang for some weird and sexually twisted kind of reason.

I was looking into the male shower room.

There was one man standing under the water, soaping himself up with a bar of green-striped Irish Spring soap. He was a good-looking man with the kind of body that most men wished they had. I am talking about big broad shoulders and a good thick set of biceps that looked as if he had either grown up tossing around hay bales and tractors and fully grown cart horses down on the family farm — or else he was one serious diehard gym rat.

Only I wasn’t looking at his muscles.

It was his cock that caught my attention.

His cock was long and thick and heavy and it hung with that all-too-fucking masculine air of authority between his legs.

I know that some women will tell you that looking at a man’s junk just doesn’t appeal to them but the truth of it was — for me, at least — there was nothing I liked better than looking at a big hard cock.

To me, looking at a good hard cock is more exciting than looking at a sculpture in a big old museum — unless maybe it was a great big old sculpture of a great big cock.

And this guy had a really good looking cock.

The truth was, I just could not take my eyes away from the sight of the man’s big fat dripping cock.

It was the head coach, Carl, who owned that cock.

The sideburns tipped me off.

I watched Coach Carl closely as he ran his hands across his broad hard chest and down along that happy belly-trail of man fur, working the sudsy lather into the thick shaft of his cock and his big dangling balls. He was singing a little bit softer now, almost to himself, and I could see that by the stiffening of that big heavy cock that he was beginning to enjoy his dick scrubbing.

I was beginning to enjoy myself as well.

My cunt was wet and I was wishing that I could get close enough to Coach Carl to kiss the tip of that big fat cock of his. I wanted to feel the length of him pushing into my mouth and I wanted to run my tongue all along that heavy pink shaft and I wanted to taste his come splashing into my mouth and swallow it.

I wanted to lick his cock clean after I had swallowed a throatful of his thick salty semen.

I figured that I might as well make the best of this unexpected voyeuristic opportunity, so I worked my pink track shorts down to my knees with one hand, not taking my eyes off of that thick hardened cock. Then I licked two of the fingers of my right hand and began to slowly play with my clit.

I’ve got a good-sized clit and right now it was blossoming like big pink rose. I circled the rim of my clit with my thumb and index finger until I felt the heat beginning to build between my long hot legs.

Oh fuck.

Oh sweet, dying fuck.

That cunny-rubbing felt so goddamn good.

It had been far too long since I had enjoyed the sight of a totally naked man and somehow, seeing Coach Carl this away, totally unaware of my presence, thrilled me into a white hot passion.

My cunt moistened and I began to pant and to lick my lips. I wished again and again that I could taste that big hard cock of his. My cunt began to drip as I slid two more fingers into my aching pussy. I moaned slightly and my breath quickened and I knew that within a minute or two I was going to come and I tried to bite my lip to hold back my moans.

Holding back like that can make a good self-frigging even hotter, if you know what I mean. It is kind of a hot wet pressure that builds up inside of you so that the more you try to hold back the hotter and sexier the whole experience feels.

I bet you that it is the same way for men.

Just imagine yourself with your cock in your hand, hard and hot and ready to come. Imagine yourself trying to hold back at the same time as you are jacking yourself off.

You begin to pant, don’t you? Your muscles tense and your cock gets even harder and the more you try to hold yourself back from coming the more that you ache to shoot your cum all over that towel in your hand.

Or that wad of tissue or that open skin magazine.

Whatever floats your big fat dick-whacking boat.

That was how it was for me. I could feel an orgasm building up inside of my aching cunt. I could feel that little slow engine charging up and aching to roar. It was only a matter of time before I let go of my orgasm.

But for now, I did my best to hold off my release. I wanted to enjoy this frigging and I wanted to make it last for a long, long time.

I dug my fingers even deeper into my cunt, imagining that those three fingers of mine that I had buried knuckle-deep into my hot and aching-wet pussy were actually a young man’s hard throbbing cock.

Which was right about when I felt the unmistakable gentle weight of a man’s hard hot cock pushed up against my bare ass.

Oh my holy-assed fuck.

What the hell was going on behind me?

“Please don’t move,” a male voice whispered from behind my right ear. “Don’t turn around. I want to fuck you without you knowing who I am. If that is alright with you then reach back and touch my cock.”

Oh my god!

What could I do?

What could I say?

What the fuck do you think that I was going to say?

I wanted this guy’s cock.

So I reached back behind myself and I wrapped my hand around the mystery man’s cock.

Staring at Coach Carl’s dick while getting fucked by a mystery dick — there was absolutely no fucking way in hell that I was going to pass this once-in-a-fucking lifetime opportunity up.

“I’m wet,” I whispered, trying not to look back behind me, although I could see the tattletale peek of a bright orange traffic vest that told me that it was very likely one of the young construction workers who had somehow stumbled across my upturned and totally exposed ass.

“Fuck me now,” I told him. “Stick that cock inside of my cunt.”

There was no please or even a thank you about it. This just wasn’t a time for any sort of goddamn Emily Post manners. I wanted to come more than anything that I had ever wanted before and right now I wanted to come with that long hard cock inside of me.

“Give it to me,” I said. “Make me take that dick of yours. I don’t care who the hell you are. I just want that cock of yours inside of me right now.”

Sometimes the rules of what is right and what is wrong just fall away like panties dropping to the floor at a senior prom.

Right then and there I was lying and I was telling the truth at the very same damn time.

The truth was that right then I wanted to be fucked so badly that I did not care who it was that was actually fucking me. I just wanted that big hard cock inside of my cunt. I wanted to feel his balls swinging between my legs as he pumped his dick inside of me. I wanted to be filled with his long thick meat and to feel it filling my cunt with his white hot cum.

But at the very same time a part of me wanted to know who was behind me. I could not recognize the strange male voice behind me.

And I just did not fucking care.

The mystery man reached around and carefully parted the lips of my aching cunt while I frigged my clitoris feverishly, still not taking my eyes from off of the naked head coach’s big massive cock. Then the stranger eased his thick work-hardened fingers deep into my cunt, drawing those fingers in and out of me as I waved my ass in the air and I moaned softly.

“Oh fuck, yes,” I moaned.

Then he pulled his fingers out of my cunt and he slid that big hard cock, balls deep, straight into my dripping wet pussy.

At that point I just could not help myself.

I moaned loudly with pure hot pleasure, loudly enough to be heard over a roaring shower head and a poorly-sung rendition of Elvis Presley.

Now the secret stranger was reaching around and feeling up my jiggling tits and I was surprised to see that the Coach Carl had stopped his singing and his masturbation and was walking towards me. I licked my lips and I moaned again as the stranger behind me tweaked and teased at my hard erect nipples.

“I don’t know who you are,” the head coach said softly from the shower on the other side of the wall. “But I can tell by your moaning that you are having an awfully good time over there. I want to stick my cock inside of your mouth. You don’t have to do a thing but hold it in your mouth and lick it and swallow my come.”

I pushed my mouth up against the hole.

“Fuck, yes,” I gasped out, not caring if he recognized my voice or not. “I want your cock in mouth.”

Then all at once I had Carl’s prick inside of my mouth. His cock was rock hard and it was steaming hot and I could taste the salt of his pre-cum ejaculate and I could taste the bitter minty-green tang of his Irish Spring soap. At the same time the stranger behind me was banging me just as hard as he could. I felt that push as an orgasm tore and roared out from the base of my cunt and shook me clear. I barely prevented myself from biting down on Carl’s cock but he was too busy shooting his cum deep inside of my mouth.

I almost drowned in his hot sticky cum, trying to simultaneously swallow and moan and feeling the stranger’s cock shooting out his own load of white hot spunk. I felt his cock softening inside of me and the cum that was dripping out of my lips and down my thighs and then Carl leaned back and sat down on his ass and my knees gave way.

“Holy fuck,” Carl moaned.

“Fucking hole,” I moaned back. “I’m all sticky now and wet. I’m going to come over there and I’m going to share your shower with you if you don’t mind.”

“I’ve got lots of hot water spraying around,” Carl said. “And there’s more than one shower nozzle.”

“Good,” I said. “I like a lot of nozzles.”

“Can I come too?” the stranger asked.

“You can come as often as you want to,” I told him.

Then I stood up and I turned and I headed for the doorway out of my office, not bothering to look if the stranger was following me. I kicked out of my track shorts and I stepped out into the hallway, not caring who saw me.

Right then and there, if anyone else saw me and wanted to follow me into the shower room that was just fine by me.

The End

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