I Spied on Her Through the Locker Room Vent

The noises coming from the adjoining locker room leave no room for doubt. A couple is giving themselves over to what they’re doing, without much concern about disguising it. The ragged breathing, the dry thudding of bodies, and the barely contained moans form an unmistakable soundtrack. I sit on the wooden bench, towel still over my shoulders, and try to pretend I can’t hear.

But of course I can hear. Without meaning to, all my senses sharpen to catch every sign of the party next door. The encounter is intense. Whoever is in there sounds completely lost in each other, in one of those fucks that allow no pauses. I can hear the wet slapping of a pussy being impaled deep, the dry smack of balls against an ass, and a woman’s voice asking for more between broken gasps.

I like imagining it. And, while I’m at it, I remember with a certain nostalgia the years when I was the protagonist of scenes like that. I look at the ceiling with resignation, trying to chase away the thoughts assaulting me. Right above my head, near the ceiling, there’s a long vent covered with plastic slats connecting the two locker rooms.

I find it hard to resist the temptation. Harder than I’d like to admit. I can already feel my cock thickening inside my swim trunks, pressed against the fabric, throbbing in time with the moans on the other side.

Carefully, I climb onto the bench to see whether I can reach high enough to look through the grille. I try not to place my foot wrong, not to make the wood creak, not to give myself away with a bad movement. I bring my face close to the slats and look.

As soon as my eyes focus, I recognize her. She’s the owner of the moans: Carla. A girl of about twenty-five, with a body that had drawn attention only a little while earlier, when she was sunbathing on the grass around the club pool.

There had been a group of guys and girls, and she stood out effortlessly. Defined hips, a flat stomach, shapely legs, and a feline, unhurried way of walking that made people turn their heads when she passed. All afternoon I hadn’t been able to tell which of them was her partner. They all seemed to orbit around her.

Now I see her with one knee on the bench and the other foot on the floor, leaning forward. Her back is arched and her tits hang down, swaying with the rhythm of the thrusts, her stiff nipples pointing toward the floor. Behind her, a young man grips her hips and thrusts energetically, without stopping, burying his cock to the root with every drive. I can see it going in and out, shiny and drenched in her pussy, while Carla lets out breaths that become rougher and rougher.

—Like that, give me all of it, don’t stop —she tells him in a hoarse voice, biting her lip—. Fuck it into me all the way, asshole.

The guy obeys. He grabs her by the waist, pulls her backward, and impales her with a hard thrust that tears a guttural moan from her. Every drive makes a wet sound, an obscene slapping that bounces off the locker-room tiles. I watch her ass flatten against the young man’s pelvis and spring back, her rosy buttocks marked by the impact.

I’m afraid someone will enter the locker room and catch me perched on the bench, spying like a kid. And even so, I’m incapable of looking away. I have a front-row view, slightly from the side, missing almost no detail. The sight is so pleasurable that I can’t help noticing my pulse quicken and my cock turn hard as a rock inside my swim trunks. I squeeze it through the fabric, not yet daring to take it out.

***

Suddenly I hear a second voice. Another man, who until then had been outside my field of vision, demands his turn with a brazenness that leaves me stunned. I had assumed I was witnessing a tryst between a couple in love, and it turns out the situation is something else entirely.

—Come on, let me have her. Watching you is making me painfully hard —says the second man, finally appearing in the frame, his stiff cock in one hand, slowly stroking it while he stares hungrily at Carla.

The newcomer approaches impatiently, as if the first man’s time has already run out. Reluctantly, the other gives up his place, pulling his cock out of Carla with a sucking sound that raises goosebumps on my skin. He watches it emerge dripping with fluid, red and swollen, and still gives her ass a couple of slaps before stepping away. Carla barely readjusts herself, looks over her shoulder, and lets out a low laugh—the laugh of a woman who knows exactly what she’s doing and enjoys the power it gives her.

—Don’t you even think about coming inside me —she warns the second man—. Put all that cum on my ass or my tits, wherever you want, but not inside.

—Don’t worry, sweetheart.

And he drives his cock into her in a single thrust. Carla throws her head back, opens her mouth in a silent O, and lets out a long moan, almost a wail, while the guy starts fucking her without restraint, gripping her hips with both hands.

The earlier scene was already exciting. This adds a layer of kink that sends me over the edge. The first man isn’t content to stay on the sidelines: he positions himself beside her, caresses her breast, pinches her nipples until she moans louder, and little by little seeks her mouth. After a couple of attempts, she takes him in and starts playing with his tongue while the other man keeps moving behind her.

After a while, the first man steps back a little, stands in front of her, and brings his cock to her face, still shining with Carla’s own fluid. She doesn’t make him wait. She opens her mouth, sticks out her tongue, and takes him all the way in, sucking up her own taste without the slightest hesitation. I watch her swallow it whole until one cheek bulges, while the other man continues thrusting into her from behind. Her eyes fill with tears, her mascara runs, and even so she doesn’t let go. She holds him with both hands and wraps her lips around the glans, sucking as if her life depended on it.

I shouldn’t be watching this, I think, and yank down my swim trunks. My cock springs into the open, hard and leaking, and I grab it without taking my eyes off the scene. I don’t move an inch. I start stroking it slowly, pressing my foreskin against the glans on every downward stroke, in sync with the thrusts of the man fucking her from behind.

The man behind slows his pace so he won’t get in the way, and for several minutes she shares herself between them with a freedom that leaves me undone. She pulls the cock from her mouth only to lick it from top to bottom, suck his balls, coat it with saliva, and swallow it again. There’s nothing forced about what I’m seeing: she sets the pace, calls the pauses, decides when to speed up. They’re the ones who seem to be following her lead.

—Harder from behind —she orders, releasing the first man’s cock for a second—. I want to feel it tomorrow.

The second man obeys. He digs his fingers into her hips and starts pounding her at a brutal rhythm, until the wooden bench creaks beneath her and her tits bounce wildly against her own body. It can’t last long at that intensity. The first man steps away, grips his cock furiously, and finishes on his own, with a restrained growl, shooting several thick streams of semen over her face and chest. A white streak runs from her cheekbone to her nipple, and she smears it with one finger, brings it to her tongue, and smiles.

The other man regains the infernal rhythm from the beginning, clings to her hips, and shortly afterward pulls out just in time. He empties his entire load over her ass, in two, three, four thick spurts that run down her buttocks and drip along the backs of her thighs. Carla slowly straightens up, wearing the expression of someone bringing the session to a close while feeling, beyond dispute, like the winner. Up on the bench, I swallow a moan and hold back the urge to come; I don’t want to finish yet—not like this, with my hand and without her.

The two men give her a quick, almost awkward kiss and leave her alone. She stands there for a moment, catching her breath, then steps under the shower without any hurry. I climb down from the bench with my heart pounding against my ribs, my cock still hard in my hands, and my head full of images that won’t leave me alone.

***

With my libido through the roof, I head home. Marta, my wife, is in the kitchen finishing dinner. She tells me the kids are staying at their grandparents’ house tonight. I approach her from behind, brush her hair away from her neck, and whisper that we should leave the food for later. My cock is already hard again, pressing against her ass through her pants.

She wasn’t expecting it. But when she feels how aroused I am and sees that I’m completely serious, she decides she won’t waste the impulse. I hoist her onto the table in one pull, lower her panties, and bury my tongue between her legs right there in the kitchen. I lick her until she writhes, until she grabs my hair and begs me through moans to put it in. I fuck her standing up, her legs hanging from my arms, and fuck her like I haven’t fucked her in months, watching her tits bounce while, the bastard that I am, I think of the other woman’s. That night, without Marta ever suspecting, there’s a third person in the room: a stranger from the club who won’t leave my head. When I finish, I come inside her with a muffled moan, and she laughs in surprise at how much there is, never knowing that half that desire wasn’t really for her.

***

The next day I return to the gym earlier than usual. I hold a magazine in front of my face so my interest won’t be obvious, but my eyes follow Carla wherever she goes. For a while she plays with a ball beside her friends. Her laughter, her shouts, that way she moves, have everything under control.

When I add the memory of the previous day, the combination becomes impossible to push from my mind. The image of the carefree girl laughing in the sun existing alongside that of the woman who enjoys several men’s cocks at once, without guilt, seems as contradictory to me as it is fascinating. And that contradiction is precisely what has me trapped.

A little before two, the group gathers up their towels and heads toward the bar. Everyone except Carla and one of the guys who has been accompanying her all morning. I figure out where they’re going and hurry to take up my hiding place. I’m not going to miss anything.

This time the prelude is brief. A hug, hands seeking each other, and before long she kneels in front of him, yanks down his swim trunks, and swallows his entire cock in one go. The scene leaves me breathless: I watch his cheeks swell, see her pull the cock out and push it back in all the way to her throat, using her hand to stroke his balls while she sucks. The guy closes his eyes, trembling, barely able to stand. He grips her shoulders and starts fucking her mouth with short, clumsy thrusts, faster and faster. During a moment of respite, he summons the courage to pull away in time and asks her to turn around. She does, bracing herself against the bench, her pert ass sticking out behind her, and lets him take her from behind. I watch him part the lips of her pussy with two fingers, position the glans, and push all the way in with one thrust.

Carla sets the rhythm with her voice. She asks him to continue, not to stop for anything in the world, to open her properly, to fuck her pussy the way it deserves. But the guy, too nervous and too fast, finishes in less than a minute, convulsing, with his cock still inside her and a ridiculous grunt, emptying himself almost before he’s begun. Without further explanation, he gets himself together, tells her it’s better if they leave separately so as not to arouse suspicion, and goes.

—Did you like it? —he asks before closing the door.

—A lot —she replies, although her face says otherwise.

***

Alone, Carla sits on the bench. She props one foot on the seat and stares straight ahead, directly in my direction, unaware that I’m watching her. There’s something weary in her expression, the look of someone who has been left halfway there once again. She brings one hand to her stomach, slowly slides it downward, and starts seeking on her own the ending the other man failed to give her. She spreads her legs wide, licks two fingers, and lowers them to her pussy. I watch her part it, still shiny with the guy’s semen, and begin rubbing her clitoris in slow circles, biting her lower lip. With her other hand she pinches a nipple, pulling it until it stands stiff, and lets out a long sigh of pure annoyance and desire at once.

It seems almost unfair to me. After spending the whole morning surrounded by eager guys, she ends up having to take care of herself. And then, with a mixture of boldness and desire that surprises even me, I decide that perhaps this is my chance.

I step into the hallway and knock on her door. She doesn’t answer. I imagine she’d rather make people think there’s no one inside.

—Carla? Open up for a moment, please. It’s Andrés, Nico’s uncle. I just want to talk to you.

The bolt slides back and the door opens a crack. Her head appears, a towel wrapped around her chest, and she looks me up and down, assessing me suspiciously.

—What do you want? —she asks.

The uncertainty of the moment and everything I’m carrying inside have me tense, nervous, aroused. My cock throbs again against the seam of my pants.

—It seemed to me that they left you alone —I say, holding her gaze—. And I thought you might like a little company. The good kind.

—What are you playing at? —she replies, amused but cautious—. I don’t know you at all.

—No —I admit—. But I haven’t been able to think about anything but you for two days. And I get the feeling you weren’t completely satisfied either. That kid didn’t know how to make you come.

She remains silent for one second too long. She doesn’t close the door. Nor does she open it all the way. She only watches me, like someone weighing a bet.

—You’re pretty direct —she murmurs at last.

—I’m forty years old. I don’t have time left for beating around the bush.

A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. She takes a step back and leaves the door open behind her, not inviting me with words but inviting me all the same. I enter and close it behind me.

***

—Just so we’re clear, I decide when —she says, pressing one finger to my chest—. I’m in charge here.

—Perfectly fine by me.

And I mean it. After what I’ve seen over these two days, I know exactly what she likes and what she’s missing. I approach slowly, without the urgency of the boys who have surrounded her all morning. I brush a damp lock of hair from her face, hold the back of her neck, and take my time kissing her. Just that, for a long while, until I notice that the towel has begun to be unnecessary. I untie it myself, calmly, and let it fall to the floor.

There she is, finally naked a handspan from me. High, firm tits, her nipples already stiff and pointing at me. A flat stomach. Her pubic hair trimmed into a narrow triangle, still gleaming from the shower. I run both hands over her hips, move up to her tits, and catch one nipple in my mouth, sucking it slowly, playing my tongue around it and nibbling until her first real moan escapes.

—Take it slow —I tell her in her ear—. I’m not going anywhere.

I feel her shudder. It’s the first time in two days that anyone has spoken to her like that. I gently push her until she sits on the bench, spread her knees, and kneel between her legs. I kiss the insides of her thighs, moving slowly upward until my beard catches in her pubic hair. Then I run my whole tongue over her pussy, from bottom to top, and feel her jerk.

—Fuck —she whispers, grabbing my hair—. Right there.

I lick her thoroughly. I part her lips with my fingers and find her clitoris with the tip of my tongue, drawing small circles, alternating with slow, deep licks. When I feel her tense, I slow down; when she begs for more, I speed up. I slide two fingers inside her and curl them, searching for the spot I know drives her crazy, while I keep sucking her clitoris without stopping. After a while my beard is soaked, she rides my face without the slightest inhibition, and she lets out moans she no longer cares about anyone hearing through the vent.

—I’m going to come —she warns, pressing my head against her pussy—. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t st—

And she comes in my mouth, her legs closed around my head and her back arched, letting out a moan that turns my cock red-hot. I lick up all her juices, leaving nothing behind, until she pulls away laughing, her cheeks flushed.

—I’m not finished with you yet —I tell her, standing up. I yank down my pants and briefs. My cock springs free, hard and thick, much bigger than those of the kids who rode her all morning. I see her expression change when she looks at it.

—Come here —she asks, sitting on the edge of the bench. She bends down, grabs me with both hands, and takes me deep into her mouth. Her tongue dances around the glans, she sucks with her lips tight, using her hand to stroke me at the same rhythm, pulling me out only to lick my balls and swallow me whole again. I hold her head and push a little, fitting myself into her throat, and she doesn’t give in: she tightens her lips, looks up at me with shining eyes, and keeps sucking as if this were what she had been waiting for all morning.

I lift her before I lose control. I turn her around and bend her over the bench, her hands braced on the wood and her ass raised. I run my glans up and down her pussy, soaking it, and enter slowly, millimeter by millimeter, until I bury myself completely inside her. She lets out a long, hoarse moan from deep in her chest.

—Fuck, you fill me so much —she pants, pushing her ass back toward me—. Fuck me already, please.

There’s no clumsiness or anxiety. I listen to her. I follow her. When she rolls her back, I slow down; when she sighs for more, I speed up. I grip her hips with both hands and begin to move, slow and deep at first, pulling almost all the way out and sinking back in to the hilt. I speak into her ear, tell her what I’ve wanted to say for two days, tell her how I watched her, how hard it made me to see her swallow, and discover that every word has more effect than any hurried thrust.

—Like that —she murmurs, gripping the edge of the bench—. Exactly like that. Don’t even think about stopping.

I don’t stop. I fuck her harder. The wet slapping of her pussy mixes with the pounding of my pelvis against her ass. I watch her buttocks flatten against my stomach with every thrust, her tits bouncing beneath her, and slide a thumb between her ass cheeks, pressing against her asshole without entering, until she lets out a new, higher moan. I grab a handful of her hair and pull gently, making her arch her back. I adapt my rhythm to her gasps, to her nails digging into the wood, to the way she tenses her legs to hold me and make me stay exactly where the pleasure is. Sometimes slow and deep, sometimes fast, depending on what she asks for without needing to speak.

I pull out for a moment, turn her over, lay her on her back on the bench, and lift her legs onto my shoulders. I enter her again and fold her nearly in half, burying myself to the hilt, her tits bouncing with every thrust. She wraps her arms around my neck, pulls my mouth to hers, and kisses me with tongue while I keep fucking her, her moans breaking into my mouth whenever I reach the deepest point.

—You’re going to make me come again —she pants, biting my lip—. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t—

And she clings to me, goes still for one endless moment, and lets herself go with a long moan, writhing beneath my body, her pussy squeezing my cock in spasms—her second orgasm, the one she had been chasing all morning and nobody had managed to give her.

Only then do I allow myself to join her. I pull out sharply, kneel over her, and finish stroking myself with two, three flicks of my wrist. I come with so much pent-up desire that I shoot several thick streams all over her stomach, between her tits, and up to her neck. She looks up at me, runs one finger along her throat, gathers some semen, and brings it to her mouth without taking her eyes off me, wearing a lazy smile. When I finish, it’s hard to remember the last time an encounter left me so empty and so completely full at once.

***

We shower together, unhurried, laughing at how absurd the situation is. I run my soapy hand over her tits, her ass, and between her legs, and she returns the gesture by wrapping her foamy hand around my cock and stroking it slowly until I’m almost hard again. When we say goodbye, we share a slow kiss, different from the ones at the beginning.

—Next time, give me some warning before spying through the vent —she says while tying her sneakers.

I go still.

—I saw your eye peeking between the slats —she adds without looking up, with a purely malicious smile—. You’ve been up there for two days. Did you really think I hadn’t noticed? I even turned my ass sideways so you could get a better look at him fucking me.

I don’t know what to say. She slings her bag over her shoulder, gives me one last kiss on the cheek, and opens the door.

—I’ll let you watch —she says before leaving—. But only if afterward you have the nerve to knock on the door. And to fuck me like you did today.

We make plans to see each other another day. And as I watch her walk away down the hallway with that feline stride that had driven me crazy from the very first moment, I realize that the voyeur at the vent had been part of the game all along, without knowing it.