Bad Penny (21 page)

I looked away deliberately, my head spinning with dirty thoughts. To calm myself, I turned my attention to the ventilator and my purpose in being there. Even on tiptoe, I could barely reach it but, after climbing on to the loo and bracing one foot against the door, I managed a moderate view. Outside I could see a fair bit of Hulme Green and the top of the war memorial, exactly as it had been in the pictures. It was ideal for a voyeur, appearing only as a small, dark hole at pavement level, yet providing a view straight up the skirts of any girls who passed. As the view was of the area outside the gates to the ladies, it could also be guaranteed to be successful. The combination of ingenuity, determination and perversity that had been necessary to achieve views of girls' panties filled me with a similar alarm to that I had felt when viewing the glory hole. Only now it was more personal: very personal, in fact, as one of the voyeur's greatest successes was catching me peeing!

It was more than I could resist not to use the peep-hole myself. The first girl who passed was wearing jeans. I wrote my message as I waited, inviting ‘Internet voyeur' to meet and adding a few flattering comments and an offer of pictures as extra bait. I got lucky on the second girl. She was a pretty blonde with a snub nose and freckles, her skirt just long enough to be modest yet show her legs to advantage. From my angle, the view was anything but modest. As she walked past, I was given a clear view of her panties, bright yellow and ridden up between the cheeks of her chubby little bottom. I climbed down, feeling turned on and a bit guilty. I knew I was going to have to masturbate, though, and sat down on the seat, only to stop dead.

Protruding from the glory hole was a large, dark, heavily hooded cock and a pair of enormous balls in a sac, richly grown with crinkly hair. I froze, staring at the thing, a big, fat, excited set of male genitals pushed out for my attention.

‘Come on, boy, you know you want to do it,' a voice spoke, a whisper hoarse with urgency.

I almost ran, terrified by the knowledge of what I was supposed to do. I couldn't, though; I was rooted to the spot. I put my hand out instead, my fingers trembling and my pulse hammering. Some men's cocks look nice: quite handsome, even. This one wasn't, it was ugly and also big. It was more than I could do not to touch it, stroke it, watch it thicken and stiffen in my hand, see the spunk erupt from the tip when he came. My hand closed on the grotesque thing and it squirmed in my fingers, the blood coming into the shaft as I began to pull up and down.

‘Squeeze my balls; suck me,' he groaned from beyond the partition.

It was an order, and one I was powerless to resist. Leaning forward, I cupped his balls in my hand, feeling his coarse hair and the wrinkled skin of his sac. The balls moved inside, firm, egg-shaped lumps moving in my palm as I squeezed gently. His cock was coming to full erection, the head fully out of the foreskin, meaty and red. The shaft was dark, not the glossy deep brown of a black man's cock, but a dull red-brown. It was also heavily veined and bent upwards and a little sideways, a distorted thing at once virile and obscene. A hole which must once have held a piercing added a final, nasty, irresistible touch. I opened my mouth, gaping wide, feeling absolutely filthy as my lips touched it. I kissed, tasting the salt and the flavour of aroused male. Then my mouth was around it and I was sucking with a desperate eagerness that came from the sheer dirtiness of my position. I was in a male lavatory, sucking on a man's penis, a man who I had never even seen, but whose orders I had obeyed simply because I'm too much of a slut to resist. Worse still, he thought he was being sucked off by another man.

I wanted him to come in my mouth, badly. Also on my face, so that when he had I could sit back and masturbate with the taste of come in my mouth and my face and hair splashed with sperm. His cock had hardened fast, and was now fully erect, a great column of solid prick for me to suck on. I put my spare hand around the base of his shaft, masturbating him right into my mouth, desperate for my faceful of come. His balls squirmed in my hand and his groans were audible through the wall as he pushed his cock out to get it deeper into my mouth. I knew it wouldn't be long when he started to grunt and pant, a noise with all the raw, male vitality I had been imagining. I pulled back as I felt his cock jerk, catching a thick jet of semen across my face and lips. I tugged hard at it; the second spurt splashed over my nose and the third right into my open mouth. Then I put his gorgeous cock back in my mouth and sucked and sucked until I'd drained him and he was beginning to go limp.

My hands were already going to my zip as I sat back, the sperm bubbling up around my lips as I prepared to frig myself into oblivion. I saw his cock pull back as I pushed aside the pair of tights that I had bundled into the front of my panties. I stopped, realising that there was a major problem. If he looked through the glory hole, he would see not a stiff pink cock and a pair of balls as he expected, but my pussy. Quickly rearranging myself, I stood up, putting my back to the glory hole.

‘Don't be shy; put it through and I'll wank you.' His voice came clear through the partition.

Of course, that was one thing I was completely incapable of doing. I started to panic, pulling some paper from the roll and wiping at my face, even as I considered how best to answer.

‘Come on,' he urged. ‘I want to see your cock.'

I wasn't at all sure what he'd have thought if he'd discovered I didn't have one, and that he'd been sucked off by a girl, but I wasn't hanging around to find out. Wishing that I'd brought a compact with a mirror, I made a last check for stray splashes of come in my hair and bolted from the toilet. A man coming down the stairs gave me a look of surprise and then I was out and running for my car.

When I got home I masturbated until I was sore. I did it with my boy's clothes still on, kneeling over my toilet with a courgette pushed up my pussy in place of the marvellous, grotesque penis I had sucked. Of course, I knew full well that, had it gone further, it wouldn't have been my pussy that got filled and ended up greasing my bottom and wedging the courgette into my anus. I pushed it in and out as I played with my clit, reaching the most exquisite orgasm with my anus stretched wide around the intruding vegetable while I imagined that it was his cock.

I had set the meeting a week away to make sure the voyeur had a chance to read my invitation. All that week, I took care to use the female students' loos and kept an eye on the staff ones. I saw nothing suspicious and so was amazed to discover new postings when I checked the ‘Peeping' website the following Saturday.

There were three, and all of them had been done in our female undergraduates' loos, the very ones I had been using to avoid being caught again. The first two were of one of the prettiest women in the second year, a slim, shy girl with long black curls who I considered exceptionally bright if rather introverted. To my surprise, the voyeur's work showed that she had her labia pierced. The third AVI was of the same girl that he had caught in the staff loos before.

What amazed me was not just his ability to avoid detection, but his ability to select the prettiest girls to film. Of course, it was possible that he just posted the best, but I doubted it. In either case, it was impossible not to feel just a little flattered when he had posted me along with Wendy and perhaps the two prettiest undergraduates in the department.

Not that that diluted my desire for revenge, and it was with considerable satisfaction that I positioned myself to watch the park on the next Sunday. I had chosen a half-collapsed brick hut as a meeting place. This was on a piece of wasteland that adjoined the park and would provide shelter for the imaginary meeting, but leave me in no doubt as to who went there. The back window of my flat overlooked it, too, which meant that I could watch in perfect safety and comfort, sitting by the window with a pair of binoculars, a cup of coffee and a sandwich.

Unfortunately, my man was too suspicious to be caught so easily. Nobody arrived at the hut when they were supposed to, yet there was a man sitting on the old bandstand and evidently intent on the hut. As he was wearing a black raincoat with the collar up and a purple woolly hat, it was impossible to see who it was.

I was faced with a frustrating dilemma. All I needed was the man's identity and I would be able to work out some fitting revenge at leisure. I couldn't simply walk past him as, if he saw me, he was bound to be suspicious. On the other hand, if I failed this time, he might well not take the bait again; besides which, I wasn't at all sure if I had the courage for a second visit to the gents at Hulme Green.

Time was passing and I needed to think fast. Deciding on a bold plan of action, I put on my heaviest overcoat, a blue one that makes me look a bit like Paddington Bear, and hurried round to the park. I was just in time, as my man was already walking away from the bandstand towards the railway arches at the far side of the park. I followed, knowing that once I had his address, it would be simple enough to find out his identity.

I hurried to follow, concerned that I might lose him in the maze of little streets beyond the railway, or that he might get on to a bus. Neither happened, and I was not at all surprised when twenty minutes later we passed the sign that announced the start of Hulme Green. He went to one of the dingiest parts of the area, a cluster of Victorian back-to-backs bordering the canal. I watched him enter the last in a row, descending a flight of steps into a basement flat. At no point had I had a chance to see his face, yet he was of middling height and stockily built which had allowed me to eliminate just about all our male students. Of the remainder, one stood out, a rather quiet boy called Marcus who I had always suspected fancied me and I could just imagine setting up the camera system.

Sure that it was him, I walked on, intent on discovering the number of the house he had gone into. It was thirty-eight; but as I reached the low wall that cut the end of the street off from the canal I realised that I might be able to confirm my suspicions on the spot. The wall didn't meet the houses, but left a narrow gap. This was clear on the side opposite thirty-eight and I could see a skylight that evidently opened on to the basement flat. The equivalent space by thirty-eight was hidden by a decaying mattress, yet presumably had an equivalent skylight.

Thoroughly enjoying my role as detective, I pushed my way into the narrow gap and past the mattress. Marcus was about as unthreatening a person as it is possible to be, and I was even considering a direct confrontation and a bit of corporal punishment. I hadn't caned a man since I'd moved out of Amber Oakley's to take up my lecturer's post and, while I normally like to be on the receiving end, this seemed a perfect opportunity to get back in trim.

I settled by the skylight and peered down into the basement. The window was half-hidden by a drape on the inside, yet I could make out the lower part of a swivel chair and a piece of desk. Someone was seated at the chair, only visible from the waist down, but presumably Marcus. I made myself as comfortable as possible, hoping that he would come further into view and allow me to make sure of my identification before I confronted him.

He didn't but, from his movements, it was clear that he was seated at a computer and operating the mouse and a keyboard. Knowing that he could well stay in that position for hours, I began to rise, only to stop as his hand went to his crotch and he began to stroke himself through his jeans. Well, if he could film me peeing, I could certainly watch him masturbate – and then catch him red-handed.

I was grinning to myself as he slipped a hand down his trousers and began to knead his genitals. He was obviously watching something smutty on the screen, possibly even the AVI of me on the loo. For a long while, he kept his hand down his jeans, his cock stiffening to become a hard ridge under the cloth with his hand moving up and down the length in a lazy rowing motion. I was riveted, and looking forward to the moment he took it out.

Finally, he pulled his hand free and began to undo his fly, opening the button and drawing the zip down with a haste that marked his increasing excitement. I watched in rapture as his other hand came into view and he pushed his jeans down, exposing tight blue underpants absolutely bulging with cock and balls. He settled his jeans around his thighs, which I could see were solid with muscle, then tweaked open the front of his pants to pull out his balls and erection.

I gasped. His cock was thick and dark red-brown, the head a reddish pink, the shaft curved up and a bit to the side, the foreskin heavy and uneven. I had seen his cock before; indeed, I had sucked it. I stayed staring in surprise, realising that what I was seeing meant that innocent young Marcus was not only bisexual but an out-and-out pervert. When I'd sucked him, I'd been thinking of him as a mature, confident, strong gay man, highly sexed and dominant. Now I was confused by what seemed a contradiction between what I knew of Marcus and his gross and apparently insatiable sexual appetite.

He was tugging hard at his cock now, left-handed while he used his right to control the mouse. If I was going to confront him, now was the time, yet he had managed to bring out both the dominant and submissive elements of my sexuality, which made me unsettled. The sight of him pulling at his fat, ugly cock produced an even more primitive desire in me. I was so wet between my legs that my jeans were damp, and I urgently needed his cock inside me.

I walked quickly to his door, determined to do it before common sense got the better of me. I knew logically that I had a strong hold on him and that, outside of his sex life, he was a quiet, polite young man. Emotionally I could only see him as the sort of unbalanced animal who was likely to fuck me on the doorstep if I disturbed him in such an aroused condition.

The bell rang and, after just the sort of pause you'd expect from someone caught in the middle of having a wank, I heard footsteps approaching the door. I folded my arms and put on my most poised and dominant expression, determined to carry it off by sheer willpower.