No Bathroom Privacy
A young man discovers the pleasure of being watched while masturbating.
Though hardly endowed with a mighty horsecock, I’m hung a bit heavier than the average guy; so I never feel ashamed of showing my off my dick to anyone interested in seeing it. And, of course, I share with many men the love of being watched and urged on by an aroused on-looker when I jack off.
I was about 19 when I discovered that there is something terribly exciting about being spied upon–of course, I was not excited, but terribly embarrassed the first time this happened to me. After my sophomore year in college, my college roommate, George, and I went to France and Italy on a private tour arranged by a Frenchmen, who taught French literature at the university.
The professor, three co-eds, Mary, Kathy, and Tina, and, of course, George and me. And the six of us and our luggage somehow managed to fit fairly comfortably into the professor’s new 4-door Chevrolet. Since we were trying to travel on the cheap, at hotels in the countryside, we usually rented two double rooms (with enough bed space in each for three persons)–one with bath for the girls, the other, usually without bath, for the men. The trip was a lot of fun–about three weeks in Paris, followed by extensive travel in France and Italy; but, of course, the camaraderie meant that one had virtually no privacy. For a seasoned and addicted masturbator like me, this meant that hard-ons soon became a hardship. George and I shared a bed every night that summer, but since we were anything but J/O buddies, I was usually reduced to keeping my nuts drained by resorting to quickie jack-offs in the toilet.
My unwitting sex show occurred in a hotel somewhere in the French Alps. As usual, the girls had the room with the private bath; but we three guys were permitted to take turns bathing one afternoon, while the other members of the group regaled themselves with drinks on the hotel’s terrace. I went last, and I was warned that because the water pressure was very low, it took forever for the tub to fill. Okay by me, I thought, as I stripped off my clothes. While it’s filling, I’ll empty my nuts after a nice long session with my prick! The mere thought of a leisurely jack off got me hard immediately. The plate glass door to the bathroom (the French idea of privacy, I guess) was slightly steamed up, but through the veil of moisture I could dimly make out the layout of the unlighted empty bedroom beyond the door, as I sat on the toilet next to the tub thoughtfully and joyfully stroking my cock. I was soon so absorbed in what I was doing that I failed to notice that Tina had come up the room to fetch a sweater. She must have entered the bedroom very quietly, but even if she had banged the door and shouted, the noise of her entry would have been drowned out by the thunderous flow of hot water into the tub. Thinking myself quite alone, I, of course, degenerated into a snarling jackoff animal, finally standing up and grunting with satisfaction as I squirted a copious load of semen into the toilet.
Not until later did I learn that Tina had witnessed all this. George had taken a shine to Tina and they were “dating” (I suppose one could say). That night when they were alone together she told George (in guarded terms) that she had inadvertently “seen me naked,” that she had knocked and shouted when she entered the bedroom in search of her sweater, but that I, who had not yet gone into the tub, had apparently not heard her and was sitting there stark naked; fearing that I would hear her and think she was spying on me, she claimed that she froze and waited until I had gone into the tub before leaving. That was what she told George, but I, of course, knew that she had watched me indulging in totally uninhibited cockstroking. How shame-making! God!! How could I ever face her again? And how it must have delighted her to describe the whole thing to Kathy and Mary! Oh, Christ!! I could see her holding her palms about 8″ apart to show her giggling roommates the approximate size of my–penis? my dick?–l wondered what word she would use to designate me beloved manhood.
At breakfast the next day I seemed to notice that the girls were more giggly than usual, and I had the distinct impression that they were stealing glances at my crotch. Were those looks of admiration or of pity? Oh, God!! I felt humiliated and yet–to my surprise–I was beginning to feel horny, too. I brazened it out, pretended that nothing had changed, that the girls were still unaware that I was a lonely masturbator–even though for all I knew they might regard such people as degenerates. Well, so be it! Thinking of them thinking of me jacking off began to excite me curiously; and I began getting horny every time I imagined that they might be masturbating thinking of my wasteful habit, thinking what it would feel like to be fucked by a cock like mine. Why had Kathy taken that extra banana at breakfast and put it in her purse?-“to eat later,” she had said. I found myself wondering if they were all virgins: Mary, who had been educated in a convent and whose uncle was a Cardinal, was intact–I was quite sure of that; but Kathy was a tease and probably had hot pants; Tina had probably not yet “gone all the way” with her Yalie boyfriend, though I imagined she might be the type who would persuade her boyfriend to accept a hand-job in lieu of penetration–I had her pegged as a “technical virgin.” Owing to such thoughts, I found that embarrassment was beginning to give way to arousal: Tina wanted to watch. She could damn well have crept out of the room if she hadn’t been so fucking curious to see something she had probably never witnessed before. I found myself jacking off to fantasies about Tina watching me: her pussy begins to itch and tingle; she reaches under her skin, sticks a finger in the leg opening of her panties, rakes her pubic hair with her manicured nails; shivers of delight run through her body; she can feel her pussy growing hot and wet. She pulls down her panties and steps out of them, gasps as she slips her right index fingers between the moist mustached lips of her steaming pussy. Scraping her swollen clit with her fingernail, she feels a surge of heat engulf her body; her eyes are glued to the eagerly masturbating young man only a dozen feet away from her. She massages her clit in tandem with his stroking fist. As he stands up to ejaculate into the toilet, her body is racked with orgasmic spasms. She is sure that her muffled cure cry was inaudible to him. She scoops up the panties and quits the room. Wow! I’d entered a new level of sexual freedom.
– end –