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Peeping Tom - Simon - 11-20-2025
I stood outside Room 856, held the silver tray aloft in my left hand and knocked quietly on the door. There was a pregnant pause of one or two seconds before an elderly gentleman greeted me expectantly.
“Room service,” I announced.
The man eyed the tall glass of warm milk on the tray and beckoned me into the room.
“I know it’s late,” he started, “but my wife is not sleeping well.”
“It’s all part of the service, sir,” I replied. I placed the silver tray down on an antique oak sideboard, picked up the glass of milk and set it down on the bedside table next to an ageing woman, who looked up at me smiling.
“Thank you,” she whispered, softly.
“You’re welcome, madam,” I replied.
Bidding my farewell, I made my way along the red-carpeted eighth-floor corridor of the resplendent hotel towards the lift, the silver tray tucked neatly under my arm. This was my second week as a night porter at the hotel, the hours were long and hard to endure, but I needed the money to help fund my university course. The job was anti-social too, but again, it allowed me to catch up on my studies, indulge in a little surfing of the net and listen to music; all things I had found little time to do of late. I was also saving myself a small fortune by not being out all hours, drinking with my mates, even if they were on the verge of disowning me. OK, so I was often called upon at two o’clock in the morning by guests pestering me for hot glasses of milk, but it was also good to stretch the legs every once in a while.
Suddenly I heard the sound of laughter, followed by a loud cracking noise. I stopped dead in my tracks and listened, thinking I might have imagined it. There it was again, a loud slap, this time followed by a low, female groan. The sounds were emanating from Room 812. Gingerly approaching the door, I held my ear to the dark mahogany wooden surface and heard the muffled strains of music within. A third thwack made me jump and the tray fell from under my arm and clattered on the corridor floor. I withdrew from the door, picked up the tray and beat a hasty retreat to the hotel lift.
Back at my desk, I picked up my course book and resumed reading, taking a bite from the un-finished sandwich I had made for myself some twenty minutes earlier. It was after turning two pages I realised I hadn’t digested a word, my mind pre-occupied with what I’d heard up on the eighth floor. Curiosity finally got the better of me and I tapped in the room number on the hotel computer to discover the occupant was a Ms Collins, staying for one night only. Moreover, the adjoining room, 814, was one of the few in the hotel that was available as a family suite, together with Room 812. An inter-connecting door provided access between the two rooms. However, Ms Collins was paying for a single occupancy and Room 814 was currently unoccupied.
My body tingled with excitement as I mulled these thoughts over in my mind. It would be both immoral and negligent behaviour to even consider abandoning my duties to eavesdrop on a guest in the hotel. I drew open the drawer of my desk and stared at the set of master keys to the hotel rooms. Immoral and negligent indeed, I thought; but sometimes these things just had to be investigated or voyuered.
My heart raced as I exited the lift once more on the eighth floor and made my way along the corridor. I paused at the door to Room 812, held my breath and listened. I could just discern the strains of the music from inside the room. I smiled quietly to myself and continued to the door of the adjoining room. It was now almost two thirty in the morning, there was not a soul in sight, yet I still felt the need to look up and down the corridor to check the coast was clear, before inserting the master key into the lock and entering the room.
Closing the door behind me, I was plunged into darkness, save for a small beam of light emanating from the keyhole of the inter-connecting door. My heart was pounding in my throat as I stealthily made my way over to it. My knees clicked as I lowered my body to the soft carpeted floor, causing me to momentarily halt my descent. When I finally peered through the keyhole, I could not believe my eyes.
I had an unrivalled view of the king-size divan, draped in crisp white bedlinen. On the bed, lay a blonde haired girl in her mid-twenties, dressed in a cream satin bodice and skin coloured stockings. By her side sat a similarly aged brunette, dressed in a black lacy bra, matching knickers and hold-ups. The brunette was gently caressing the exposed left cheek of the blonde, the flesh of which was visibly raw. I watched intently as the brunette worked her hand between the blonde’s cheeks and ran a finger teasingly along the length of the crotch of her knickers. The blonde writhed with expectant pleasure on the bed, but instantly the brunette withdrew her hand and administered an almighty slap on the girl’s cheek, causing her to yelp in pain.
Sliding off the bed, the brunette, who I nominated as Ms Collins and the mistress in my head, worked her way between her submissive’s legs and began delicately peppering her tender skin with soft kisses. My cock was growing rapidly within my boxers and as I continued to stare through the keyhole, I felt the need to adjust my posture. Repositioning my knees on the floor, I was able to rest my forehead against the door, just above my spy-hole; my ever expanding erection now easing its way down the inner thigh of my right leg
A hot flush came over me as I suddenly realised what I was doing. Should I be discovered, not only would I be summarily dismissed, but I could also be shamefully exposed as a peeping tom; hell, I might also be asked to leave the university, should the story hit the local newspaper. I bit my lower lip and endeavoured to regain my composure. I was letting my guilty conscience get the better of me. Besides, I was too intrigued to walk away now. I silently took a deep breath and let it out slowly, a sense of calm restored.
Returning my gaze to the adjoining room, I watched as the mistress began easing her muse’s knickers down her slender legs. Once free of the garment, the brunette plunged her face between the blonde’s cheeks, producing a shrill of ecstasy from the girl as she squirmed on the bed. My cock was now pounding against my thigh, how I longed to be there in the room with these two beauties. Climbing back onto the bed, the brunette grabbed the blonde under one thigh and flipped her onto her back and, prising her legs apart with ease, set about devouring her glistening wet pussy with her tongue. The blonde thrashed about on the divan, her hands kneading her breasts through her tight-fitting bodice. Pre-cum oozed from my tip, as the brunette began to finger fuck her plaything, while feverishly lapping away at her clit. I placed a hand on my throbbing cock and subconsciously started stroking myself with an open palm against my thigh. Driven on by the two women only a matter of a few feet before me, I felt at one with their hungry desire for fulfilment. The blonde arched her back and began groaning uncontrollably, as wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure poured from her soul.
I was transfixed as the blonde rose from the bed and pulled the brunette up from between her legs and into her arms. They kissed wildly, the submissive seemingly driven with a desire to repay her mistress for the earth-shattering orgasm she had received. She pushed the brunette to the bed and sat astride her, her arse high in the hair before me, as she set about planting passionate kisses about the brunette’s body. I yearned to reach out and finger the gaping pussy nuzzled between the blonde’s pert buttocks. The sight before me was too much to take. Without shame, I tugged at the fly of my jeans and felt the buttons pop free. Reaching inside my boxers I extracted my aching cock and started milking myself in earnest. I stroked myself to the rhythm of the girls making love before me. The blonde was now spanking the brunette; the tables were turned, justice was being administered. The mistress knew she was beaten, she took her punishment willingly.
I continued to pump away at my engorged cock, as the blonde rolled the brunette onto her back and began playing with her inside her knickers. I could only imagine how wet they were right now; how I yearned to possess them, a lasting souvenir to treasure, a reminder of this very mischievous night. This thought was more than I could take. As I stared at the brunette cumming to the touch of her young muse, my cock began jerking in my hand, splattering the foot of the inter-connecting door with my thick, steamy cream.
It took a moment or two for my body to stop trembling. Unlike the girls in the room next door, I had been forced to contain my release whilst in a crouched position and in the aftermath of my violent orgasm, I now realised that every muscle in my body was aching. I peered through the keyhole once more and saw the girls sprawled on the bed in each other’s arms, spent from their exertions. It was a picture to behold.
I quietly got to my feet, pulled up my jeans and made my exit, closing the door to Room 814 behind me. I scurried back to my desk on the ground floor and resumed reading my book as if nothing untoward had happened. Within minutes, a sense of calm washed over me and I smiled to myself. I recounted the events in my head and I revelled in the fact that I had got away with it.
I was suddenly brought to my senses by the sound of the telephone ringing loudly in my ears. I cleared my throat, lifted the receiver and spoke. “Room service,” I announced.
“Oh hello there,” came the sound of a soft, feminine voice. “Could I order a bottle of champagne please?”
“Certainly, madam,” I replied. “Can I take your room number?”
“Sure… 812,” came the reply.
My heart skipped a beat. “Certainly madam,” I replied, calmly. “And would there be anything else?”
“Oh yes… and three glasses, please.”
“Three glasses,” I spurted, confused and without thinking. “I’m sorry, three glasses… sure thing.”
The voice on the other end of the phone burst into laughter. “We thought you might like to join us!”
The End