Voyeur Files - Part I

When I was in my mid-twenties, I lived with my old roommate from college.  He was recently divorced after a short-lived marriage to his high school sweetheart. We had been casually nude around each other in college—not in a sexual way or anything, but we changed in front of each other, and we would walk into the bathroom when the other was in there showering or whatever, and it was no big deal. That casual atmosphere continued when we moved back in together. My roommate drove a garbage truck, so when he came home he was always filthy.  As soon as he stepped in the door, he would strip down to his underwear in the entryway and leave his dirty uniform there.  He didn't dare sit on the furniture with his smelly clothes on.  He would plop down on the couch next to me, and we would smoke-up and drink a couple of beers before he would finally get the energy to get up to take a shower.  He had a lean, sinewy body and was very hairy.  I was thin and not very hairy, so I had always been fascinated by his body, and he had no problem showing it off. This became our after-work pattern, sitting on the couch in our underwear, since I started stripping down when I got home too, so, unless we knew someone was coming over, we lived in our underwear.  One day, however, when he went into the bathroom to shower, he shut the door tightly, which caught my attention for some reason—mostly because he had never done that before. He always left the door open when he showered.  It wasn't a big deal, but for some reason I started to wonder what compelled him to shut the door on this day when he had never done it before.  I thought maybe he was going to take a dump before he showered, though, again, he had never shut the door for that before either.  It made me wonder if he was going to jerk off, and that was why he closed the door. This bathroom had two doors to it—one from the main hallway (which is the one he shut) and one that led to my bedroom. The door to my room had swollen, so it never shut tight, but it was wedged against the top of doorframe so it was mostly closed, but not latched.  On my side of the door, I could see a crack of light that bled through from the bathroom.  On the hunch that he was jerking off, I got up and went into my room, got down on my knees and looked through the small crack in the door there. The way the bathroom was laid out, I could see the mirror that ran across the opposite wall and I could see his reflection as he stood in front of the mirror. Behind him in the reflection I could see the shower. Through the crack I could see the left side of his body. He was nude and standing in front of the mirror. I could see his left arm moving up and down, but I couldn't see his hand from this angle. I was pretty sure he jacking off.  I don't know what possessed me, but suddenly I knew I had to see for sure what he was doing, and if he was jacking off, I wanted to watch.  I pulled a bit on the door to try to open it just a little more so that I could see the rest of him. I pulled with a steady pressure, worried that the door would fly open and he would see me there, kneeling in the doorway.  I couldn't help myself, however—I thought this might be my only chance, and I pulled.  The door gave just a tiny bit.  I looked through the crack.  Fuck!  I still couldn’t see all of him.  I pulled some more.  The door made a noise and opened a little further.  To me the sound of the door was loud and I was positive that my roommate had to have heard it. I figured I had been caught, but I looked through the crack again.  Now I could see his entire body, and there he was:  nude, hard and stroking his cock. And I could see everything. I had seen him naked numerous times before, but this was the first time I saw him hard.  I didn't care much about size, but he had told me before that he was 9 inches hard.  He said he knew that because his most recent girlfriend had measured it.  I didn't believe him.  Seeing him hard, however, I had to reconsider.  I wouldn't have said he was 9 inches, but he was still impressive. All I knew was that he was jacking off, and I was watching. I was totally floored. I remember being struck by the fact that he was right-handed, but he jacked with his left. I’m a leftie, but I jack with my left hand.  I was fascinated that he used his non-dominant hand. I just watched him, getting more and more aroused. We kept Hustlers and Playboys and Penthouses under the sink in the bathroom, and he had one of the Hustlers lying on the counter.  He had a lit cigarette in his mouth, and he turned the pages of the magazine with his right hand and stroked with his left.  I had never watched someone like that who didn't know he was being watched.  It turned me on big-time.  I was on my knees outside the bathroom door, and I pulled my sweatpants down and hooked them under my balls and started stroking my already-hard cock. What I really wanted to do was to get up, open the door and walk into the bathroom with him.  I thought I could pretend I had to piss, but I figured it would surprise him and he would be embarrassed.  I really wanted to walk in and tell him I would help.  I wanted to take over jacking his cock for him.  I worried, however, that what made for a great fantasy might not play out as I had hoped.  I hoped he would say, “Here, it's yours.”  I thought the reality would be that he would say, “Get the fuck out of here!”  So I just kept watching and stroking and enjoying the view. He kept stroking his dick.  He kept turning the pages of the Hustler. I was fascinated by his continuous turning of the pages.  I usually found one picture to focus on when I jacked off to the magazines, but he kept working his way through the magazine, sometimes paging back to look at a particular picture again. At one point, he stopped stroking and turned to walk over to a drawer out of which he pulled a bottle of hair conditioner.  As he went to the drawer, he stopped and turned profile and looked at himself in the mirror.  He flexed his hard-on to make it stand straight up.  At first I wondered if, in fact, he HAD heard me pull the door open and knew I was watching, so everything he was doing was a private show for me.  That probably was not the case, but it was nice to think it was.  He stood there and admired himself—and especially his cock—in the mirror.  It turned me on even more than I was. After looking at himself for a bit, he walked back to the magazine and opened the conditioner bottle and squirted some into his hand.  He then started rubbing his cock again, using the hair conditioner as lube.  He continued jacking, periodically spitting into his hand to wet the conditioner.  Watching him in that private moment turned me on.  I jacked off with my eye against the crack in the door.  I hadn't planned for this jack-off session, so I wasn't sure what to catch my cum with  My closet was behind me, so when I got close, I grabbed a dirty sweat sock out of my dirty laundry pile.  I grabbed it as fast as I could so that I wouldn't miss it when he came. When he shot his load, I expected it to fly and shoot across the counter, spraying the mirror.  I was a distance shooter when I came, so I just assumed he would be too, but, instead, his cum flowed out of his cock and oozed over his hand.  I was disappointed he hadn’t let it fly, but it was still sexy to see his cum drooling over his fingers as he grasped his boner. When he finished milking the last of his cum out of his cock, he let go of his cock and held his hand out, spreading his fingers.  I could see the cum on his fingers dripping down his hand.  That was all it took and I shot.  I didn't get the sock in place in time, so I spooged on the door, but I didn't care.  I went back to watching him.  He unrolled some toilet paper and wiped each finger and his hand.  Then he wiped off his cock with it and threw the toilet paper in the toilet. He closed the Hustler and tossed it in the cabinet where we stored the porn and jumped in the shower.  I thought it was interesting that he took the time to wipe himself off before getting in the shower.  I would have just jumped in the shower and let the water rinse the cum off. Later I went in to the bathroom and pulled out the Hustler.  Two of the pages were stuck together.  I could see the splash mark where his cum had dripped off his hand and splattered onto the page.  I always wondered if he left that for me to find. After all, it was my Hustler, and I couldn't help but notice he had splashed the page with the sexiest photo in that issue, where a sexy man was fucking a hot woman from behind.  He and I both thought was the sexiest photo spread in that issue.  I know he felt the same as I did because we had discussed the spread earlier and both admitted we found that one to be the hottest.  So I wondered if he just splashed on it and didn't think anything of it, or if he deliberately dripped on it to give me a little wink, letting me know he'd gotten off to the same photo I liked. After that first time, I always knew when he was going to jack off after work because he always left the bathroom door open when he was just showering, and he always shut it tight when he was going to jack off.  It worked that way every single time.  I would watch the door.  If he closed it, I would position myself outside the other door and I would beat off as I watched him jack himself as he watched himself in the mirror and looked at our magazines.  I always imagined that he knew I was there and he was putting on his little show just for me.  The reality, however, is that he probably didn't have a clue I was there. He later started tearing pages out of the magazines and pressing them on the wet shower wall where they'd stick and he would jack off in the shower.  We had a clear shower curtain, so I could still watch him though the curtain would start to fog up as he showered, so I couldn't see as well after that, but I was still glad for the free show.