Pagan Moss' Peep Show Stories

Saturday, May 22, 2004

Addicted to Love

Addicted to Love

There are some men who make the rounds--feverishly stalking the various erotic dens of town, and then there are those loyal gents who have their favorite haunt. The rest, I presume, fall somewhere in between.

There was once a man named Robert who made his rounds. He is the only customer I've seen at each place I've worked in the sex industry.

I guess you could say he loved sex like a spider loves a fly.

Act I: The Lusty Stage

At the Lusty, Robert would come in several times a week. There was no way of missing him. He had a full head of long frizzy red hair and he looked as if he had just walked off the stage of a White Snake concert. I wondered what he did for a living. When he came in, he'd often set out a neat row of polaroids, which showed him sucking off a black guy's cock. The polaroids set on a small ledge of the booth window and he would adjust them and move them around in hopes of gaining the attention of a new girl dancing on stage. The new girls were the only ones who would pay him any attention, laughing and pointing at the pictures. Most of the girls had grown weary of his antics and would often respond by filling his window with their ass, blocking his view to the stage. Eventually, he would get fed up, leave the booth, only to resurface a few minutes later in another booth. At the Lusty, he would also rouse the girls by bringing in large dildos, which he would idly suck, while leering at them. Most of the girls would wag their pointer finger, yelling, "Get a private show if you're gonna pull that shit," which was promptly followed by their ass in the window.

Two years later . . .

Act II: The Dungeon

When I worked at the dungeon, Robert stumbled in one day, looking higher than a kite. He was strangely dressed, donning a red plaid flannel shirt which unbottoned to his navel, revealing a chest full of red downy hair. He also wore a pair of bright turquoise sweat pants under which his cock bobbed freely up and down as he walked. He inquired about the shows and I gave him the run down. He decided he wanted to talk dirty. I signed him up for a fantasy show and walked him back to the room.

He sat down on the couch and opened a plastic sack and proceeded to pull out several dirty magazines, mostly of the gay male variety. He then pulled out a handful of polaroids. He spread them out neatly on the couch and told me to come kneel next to him. As I looked at the polaroids, I realized that these were the same ones which he used to flash at the Lusty a couple of years ago. It appeared this represented the peak of his sexual escapades.

He then started flipping through the pages of the magazine, stopping here and there to show me pictures of guys he'd like to fuck and suck. "I like big cocks," he said. "I won't suck a small one." Then he directed my attention to the polaroids. "See this cock. Now that's a mouthful," he said, laughing. "Look how far open my mouth is." He moved his face close to mine and opened up his mouth wide; a wave of foul air hit me. "I've had two cocks in this mouth," he said, proudly. "How many cocks have you had in your mouth?"

"One," I answered immediately.

"Only one, really? Let me see how far you can open that thing."

[Note: There are customers who will try to see what they can get you to do. Most have desires which are satiated by the sight of your tits, pussy and ass. But there are those customers who want to see what your tonsils look like; they want to see if you can stick your whole fist in your mouth. Yes, the fist thing, that one really gets me. It is funny how we all have those things which push us over the edge--the hot button some might say. For some girls it is having a guy call their pussy a cunt. Or for some, it may be vulgar talk, like that coming from customers, coining phrases such as, "Yo, bitch . . . I wanna see you bust that pussy." But me, I'd have to say the fist in the mouth. That one really gets me.]

Without straining, I opened my mouth--just a natural slack of the jaw.

"You can open it wider than that."

"Sorry, this is as far as it goes. My dentist said I have TMJ. I have a hard time eating a burrito."

He seemed convinced and quickly went on to something else. "After this show, I'm gonna go down to The Cuff and get me some cock."

"Oh, I'd like to see that," I said. I lied.

"Yeah, I'm just gonna go up to some guy and tell him I want to suck your cock."


"Yeah, I went there last week and got lucky. Man, he had a huge cock, too. It filled my mouth up real good."

Something caught my eye and I looked down to see his cock rising under his sweats. He pulled the front of them down, and started stroking his cock.

His eyes narrowed and spit flew as he snarled, "Yeah, maybe after I get some cock, I'll come back and tell you all about it. How I sucked some guy's cock."

"Oh, baby. You're so naughty."

White foam started collecting at the corners of his mouth, which stretched disgustingly as his lips moved. "Yeah, my mouth's gonna be full of cum tonight. I'm gonna come back and show you." He squeezed the tip of his cock until a foamy bubble emerged, which he skillfully swiped and brought up to his lips to taste. "Mmmmm . . . " He opened his mouth and offered me his tongue, which was covered with pearly swirls of jism.

Before I could respond, the buzzer went off, sounding the end of the show.

"I'll be back," he said, swallowing.

One year later . . .

Act III: Fantasy Booth/Stage

It wasn't long after slipping my heels on for the first time at Fantasy that Robert's face appeared.

I first saw him when I was working on stage. He appeared at the corner window, which is a two-way, and immediately slipped me a ten dollar tip and pumped a hand full of ones into the machine. He knew how it worked; he was a regular.

A ten dollar tip means I take it all off. And luckily for him, I wasn't wearing much that evening--white lace panties and a matching bra. I also donned thigh high stockings, but those were staying on.

I danced around the window a little, while stripping. First the bra and then the panties. The panties always come off last.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Natalia," I answered

"Are you new?"

"Yeah, I've only been here a couple of weeks."

"I never forget a face," he said, smiling.

But he had. His eyes had perused my flesh on several occasions, but his face was void of any recognition.

Robert put one hand in his coat pocket and pulled out a handful of polaroids, which he neatly displayed for me in the window.

They were the same polaroids as before. But even so, I went along. "You like to suck cock, huh?"

"Yeah, I do. I'm hoping to find a guy in the theater tonight. Do you know if it's been busy?"

"I think so. I've seen guys coming out and using the bathroom a lot. It's funny because they don't ever close the door and you can tell the guys who have boners because they brace themselves against the wall so they won't pee on themselves."

"If I get lucky in there, I'm gonna bring him out and get a booth show with you so you can watch me suck his cock."


"Yeah, I've done it before."

The window closed, ending the show.

Robert put his mouth up to the tip slot. "I'm gonna check out the theater. I'll be back."

"Good luck," I said as I gathered my things and walked off the stage.

After I dressed, I jumped back into my booth and resumed reading a saucy passage from Diane Di Prima's Memoir of a Beatnik.

Twenty minutes or so passed and Robert emerged from the theater alone. He jumped into my booth and picked up the phone. "It's totally dead in there tonight."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh well. You up for a show?"

"Of course."

He put a twenty through the tip slot and put twenty into the machine.

The shade began to rise and I closed the shade to the hallway.

"Can you leave that open during the show?"

"I can't do that. I'll get in trouble."

"The other girls do it."

"I dunno."

"Here I'll give you another twenty." Another twenty came through the tip slot.

I started raising my shade to the hallway a bit. "OK, but I'm not raising it all the way. This is as far as it goes."

"Just a little bit more?"


"OK," he said, disappointed.

I stripped back out of my bra and panties and waited. Robert had the booth door ajar so he could see if a customer was coming.

"Hey, I'll be right back. I'm gonna put these pictures below your window so customers walking by can see them. There's a little ledge there. I think they'll stay."

"I don't know about that. They'll think they're my pictures."

"I'll tip you more if you let me put them there."

Another twenty came through the tip slot.

"OK, but you better hope I don't get in trouble for this. I just started working here, you know."

"I promise you won't get in trouble. The girls let me do this all the time."

He left the booth to set up the pictures and then came back. He took a dildo out of his bag and and started sucking it, while peering out into the hallway, hoping someone would come by. But no one was coming.

The show was coming to an end, when someone came out of the theater. When the customer spied me naked, he looked as if he had seen a ghost . . . or maybe a murder. Robert opened the booth door wider so the customer could see him. The customer smiled and walked closer to the window. Robert stepped out into the hallway and the two engaged in conversation although I could not hear what they were saying. The customer picked up one of Robert's pictures and smiled. He then looked up at me and started to laugh. He put the picture back and disappeared down the hallway.

The shade began to fall and I closed the shade to the hallway.

Robert got back into the booth. "That guy showed me his cock in the theater once. It's too small for me. I only suck big ones."

I started dressing.

'Well it's dead here tonight. I'm gonna leave and go to Neighbors. I think I can find some cock there."

We said our goodbyes and then Robert left. I was glad.

After that night, I only did a few more shows for Robert. After a while, it wasn't worth the money. He started getting greedy, wanting more for less money. It got so bad that no girls wanted to do shows for him and he was eventually asked to leave after a customer complained that he was exposing himself in the hallway.

Robert was an addict and sex was his drug. I imagine he is out there somewhere, making the rounds, flashing those polaroids.

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