Peter was standing at the window of his friend's apartment. The apartment, on the eleventh floor of a Manhattan high-rise, looked across the street at another luxury building. Every floor in the other building had seven sets of windows, and Peter could see into three floors of apartments from where he stood. That meant, potentially, twenty-one different apartments to look into.

Peter was going to be here for one week. The usual resident, his friend Barbara, was out of town, and Peter had been invited to take care of things in her absence. Barbara, although straight, had a kinky side. She was a voyeur, and she had a telescope pointed toward the luxury building and its three floors of viewing potential.

Peter was planning to have fun. He did not think of himself as a voyeur, but twelve years of Manhattan living had helped him develop a taste for observing the actions of others, others who may not have known he was looking. Before she left Barbara told Peter about a guy who lived across the way. He apparently walked around topless and barefoot, clad only in warm-up pants. The guy had an armchair which faced out toward Barbara's building. His television sat in front of the armchair, which meant the guy spent lots of time facing the building where Peter now stood.

Peter could not see the guy. He wasn't even exactly sure which set of windows were his. Since it was only six-thirty and still light outside, Peter thought maybe the guy wasn't home from work yet. Peter was vigilant, though, with a drink in his hand and his eyes facing right out the window.

Peter was eager to see what would happen while he was sole occupant in the high-rise apartment. Barbara confessed that she often walked around with nothing on. Nonetheless, she'd been unable to spark the guy's interest, even as he sat in his armchair and watched her parade around. Peter decided, hopefully, that the guy didn't like girls.

By seven o'clock, Peter got a chair and set it next to the telescope. He was tired of standing. He poured a second drink and wondered if it was wise to be drinking on an empty stomach. He put his eye to the telescope and tried to see something in the apartments across the way. There was an older man watering the plants on his terrace. A young man and woman prepared dinner. Two frat guys played quarters on their coffee table.

Wait! What was that?

Peter had seen a flash of flesh walk through the apartment directly across from him. Was that the guy who wore warm-up pants, the legendary neighbor? Peter focused the telescope on that apartment. Yes, there was an armchair. In front of it Peter saw a lamp and a television. "Must be the guy," Peter murmured. At the rear of the room was a slant of light coming from somewhere that Peter could not see.

Peter decided that it was a doorway to another room. The bathroom? Ten seconds later, Peter saw a flash of white skin. The guy had emerged from the doorway. Peter got a sideways view of a well-built guy with a towel in front of his crotch. The guy had a nice ass, Peter thought, but before he could be sure, the guy disappeared.

Fuck! Where did he go? Peter couldn't see anything. The guy was out of view. Peter kept his eye glued to the telescope, waiting to see what would happen. A few moments later, the guy re-emerged, this time in a pair of red warm-up pants and nothing else.

The guy had a great body. He was muscular and well-toned without being over built. His chest was smooth and his skin creamy white. He had nice-sized nipples, and they were dark rose in color, like red wine stains on a creamy white tablecloth. His pecs were strongly defined, protruding a bit further than the rest of his flat, tight torso. He had curly hair, light brown, a bit wild and unruly, but just a bit.

One muscular arm held the guy's towel and the other, a TV remote control. His legs bulged nicely beneath the well-worn jersey fabric of his warm-up pants, which tapered down to a pair of beautiful feet. His feet looked like something Michelangelo would have carved, like the feet of a Greek god in marble. His shapely ass curved downward toward his legs and upward into the small of his back. In short, he was picture perfect.

Peter had been hard since he first looked through the telescope. When he spotted the guy across the way, his hard dick had begun to throb. By now, after this thorough assessment, his dickhead was leaking out rivers of pre-cum. His underwear felt slippery.

Peter decided to slip off his pants. With a wet, raging hard-on trapped inside, all Peter could think of was setting it free. He pulled his eye away from the telescope and shimmied out of his pants. Then he peeled off his underwear. His swollen joint slapped hard against his stomach before settling down to its normal angle--a ninety degree angle. His penis pointed directly across the way to the guy in the other apartment. Peter hoped the guy could see him and his hard-on.

But where was he? Nowhere to be seen! Had Peter taken that long slipping out of his pants? Peter was just on the verge of complete panic when the guy came out of the bathroom again, turning off the bathroom light behind him. Now the only light came from the lamp by the TV. Peter preferred seeing the guy's body with the aid of the telescope, so he started to lean down and look through it. But as he leaned down he noticed something. He noticed the guy was now standing at his window and staring at Peter.

Peter stood straight up and walked right up to the window. Now both men were standing at a window and looking across. The guy in the warm-up pants wrinkled his brow as though he couldn't tell what he was seeing. Peter moved the telescope aside so the guy could see his giant hard-on, pointing straight out from his body. But wait, since his hard-on was pointing straight out from his body, the guy probably couldn't see it. Peter turned his profile to the window, so the guy could bee his long, chubby tool bouncing out from his groin.

The guy leaned forward, squinted his eyes, unfurrowed his brow, then quickly turned off the light. Peter didn't know what had happened. Did the guy go looking for lube? Was he getting himself hard? When would he turn the light on again? After ten minutes of waiting and hoping, it dawned on Peter what had happened. The guy had leaned forward to see what was going on in the apartment across from him, had seen Peter's enormously swollen dick, and had freaked out. The guy wasn't looking for dick! He was straight.

Peter was truly annoyed. He finished his drink, made a third one, ordered some take-out Chinese, made a fourth drink, and watched cable TV, which was always the second most exciting thing about staying at Barbara's, because he didn't have cable at his place. Peter did all these things with his pants still off, including answering the door and scaring the hell out of the tiny guy who delivered the Chinese food. (Four drinks could make Peter do silly things, especially if there was no one around to suck his dick.) Peter also did all of these things without glancing for one second across the street at the other apartment. Fuck that guy! He wouldn't look at him the whole week he was going to stay there. Fuck him.

But late in the evening, as Peter got ready for bed, he weakened, and looked across to the shirtless guy's apartment. He saw the flickering light of the TV set, and it looked like the guy was stretched all the way across his armchair, but he couldn't tell; Peter thought he saw three legs and two sets of arms. At that point he decided to take a few aspirin before he went to bed. Clearly he'd had too much vodka.

In the bathroom, Peter looked in the mirror as he swallowed the aspirin. "That guy should have been flattered I was checking him out," Peter thought. It was true. Peter had an incredibly handsome face. The product of a British father and an Italian mother, he had straight, black hair and dark olive skin. He was tall and slender, but he had broad, sturdy shoulders and tight, smooth ass. His dick, even when it wasn't hard, was a meaty masterpiece that hung between his legs, this time pointing down and not straight out.

After taking the aspirin, Peter went to pull the blinds before going to sleep. Just then, the lamp came on in the guy's apartment. The guy looked over at Peter. He pulled off his warm-up pants. Then he snapped off the light.

The next day at work Peter had a hangover. His hangover was made worse by his inability to understand what had happened the night before. Clearly he'd had too much vodka. Clearly the booze had made him horny. But it was also clear that the guy in the red warm-ups saw Peter over there and knew that Peter was looking at him. Why did he come back over to the window, then, at the end of the night? Why did he tease him with a two-second view of his naked body?

On his lunch hour Peter decided to go to the paper store. He bought a sheet of poster board and a big marker. Instead of working that afternoon, he sat in his office making a sign: "SHOW MORE," in big, bold letters. When he got to the apartment that evening, he put the sign in the window and waited for the guy to get home.

By eight o'clock nothing had happened across the way. Peter, bored, called an old boyfriend, David, and asked if he wanted to meet for a drink. David was a Broadway producer who was usually busy attending the openings and parties of fellow theater professionals. But this night he was free. Peter told David to meet him at the bar on the corner, an Irish pub.

When David arrived, Peter remembered what he'd first seen in his former boyfriend. David was neither tall nor short, and he was stocky. But he had lots and lots of boyish charm. He was a red-head with short, wavy hair, and he could charm anyone out of anything. His other noteworthy quality was purple-headed dick which, when growing erect, would thump up and down as the blood throbbed into it. For this reason, Peter gave him the nickname Thumper.

Peter and Thumper had several drinks, Peter having forgotten the perils of having drunk too much the night before. "Well," he reasoned on the way out of the bar, "A little hair of the dog always eases the hangover." Thumper, unwilling to comment on Peter's drinking, said he wanted to see the apartment where Peter was staying. Peter, of course, knew what that meant, and decided that since the guy across the way probably wasn't going to come through, fucking Thumper would be a good consolation prize.

Back up in Barbara's apartment, however, things had taken an unexpected turn. Actually, it was in the apartment across from Barbara's that things had taken an unexpected turn. The guy in the warm-up pants was there, with the light on. But so was another guy, who was wearing only a towel. The second guy was built somewhat like the red warm-ups guy, except he was shorter and darker-haired, and he had a tattoo on one of his biceps.

Thumper and Peter went to the window to watch. The two guys were puttering around the apartment, not really engaging with one another. The second guy clearly was a room mate. Is that who provided the extra pair of arms and the extra leg Peter had seen the night before? If so, the two guys were pretty friendly for your average room mates. Noiselessly, Peter pointed to the telescope, and Thumper bent over to look through it.

At the same time, warm-ups guy discovered the posterboard asking him to "SHOW MORE." He looked at his room mate, then back at the sign, and then back at Peter. He made no indication that he saw Peter watching him, but he slid out of his warm-ups and walked toward the bathroom, his white, bare ass taunting Peter and Thumper as he disappeared.

The room mate hadn't seen the sign or Peter or Thumper, so he began to get dressed. When he slipped off his towel, Thumper gasped, and Peter uttered, "Oh, my God," because neither guy could believe what he saw. It was the longest piece of unerect meat imaginable. It hung down, limp, almost to mid-thigh, hanging lower than the two tangerine-sized balls in their hairy pouch. He pulled on a shirt and socks, his floppy, huge dick slipping and sliding back and forth as he dressed. Then came the underpants. Both Thumper and Peter were laughing uncontrollably as they watched the poor guy try to fit his horse-sized hose into a pair of briefs.

He was still trying to fit into his underwear when warm-ups guy came out of the bathroom, wet from his shower. Huge dick had finally stuffed himself in and started in on his pants when warm-ups walked toward the window and dried himself in front of Peter and Thumper. He toweled off his crotch and then pulled the towel away so Thumper and Peter could see. He had a tight ball sack and a short, fat pud. His dick had lots of folds in it, which promised tremendous growth potential when fully erect.

Peter was so busy looking at warm-up guy's dick that he almost missed the exit of the room mate. On his way out, room mate/huge dick and warm-ups had a long, slow kiss. And then room mate was gone. Warm-ups wasted no time making his way to the window. He placed something in it.

"What's it say?" Peter asked Thumper.

It was a phone number. Peter grabbed the phone and dialed the number as Thumper called it out to him. Warm-ups walked over to his arm chair, sat down, and picked up the phone. Thumper could see him mouth, "Hello?"

"Hey," said Peter. "What's up?"

"Hanging out," said the guy.

"We can see," said Peter. "I'm Peter, and this is Thumper."

"Why's he called that," asked the guy.

"You'll see," answered Peter. "What's your name?"

"Todd."

"Well, Todd. Are you going to show more?"

"Shit yeah!"

"What apartment are you in?"

"How about I come over to you?"

Peter thought about this for a moment. It was, after all, Barbara's apartment. Was it all right to have a strange boy over? Not in the least. But Peter was, after all, drunk, so he said, "Eleven-B. Come on up. But you can't wear anything more than your warm-up pants. If you do, I'm not letting you in." And with that, Peter hung up the phone.

Peter and Thumper watched Todd grab a pen, write down Barbara's apartment number, and pull on his warm-up pants. He left his apartment without turning off the lights. A couple minutes later, they saw him walking out of his building and across the street to where they were. He hadn't even slipped shoes over his bare feet. Peter's tool began to stiffen. He grabbed Thumper around the waist while Thumper was still bent over the telescope and pressed his hard-on into Thumper's butt cheek.

"Hey!" Thumper protested, "I only want a piece of him. I've already had you."

"Fine," Peter said. "Then you go let him in."

Thumper called down to the doorman and instructed him to send up any gentleman who asked for apartment 11-B. Then he slipped off his shoes, pants and underwear. Thump, thump, thump--his dick was expanding. He unbuttoned his shirt and waited by the door. Peter stayed fully dressed, although he was now fully hard. There was a knock at the door. Thumper opened it.

"Hey," said Todd. He was bare-chested, barefoot, and wearing red warm-up pants. When he saw Thumper naked before him, he started pitching a tent. His hard-on, like Peter's, pointed straight out. Thumper closed the door without locking it and put his hands on Todd's smooth torso, stroking him. Todd, impatient, pulled off his warm-up pants. His dick sprung free from captivity and bobbed up and down. The two guys came together and started kissing.

Peter made his way over to them. Todd reached out to touch him. Then he took one of Peter's hands and placed it on Thumper's dick.

"Sorry," said Peter. "Thumper only wants you to touch him. I'm not allowed."

"Oh," said Todd. "Then come with me." Todd led Thumper over to the bed. Thumper lay down on his back, and Todd, standing at the end of the bed, grabbed hold of Thumper's legs behind each knee. "Lube me up, willya?" asked Todd of Peter. Peter scrambled to find his lube and latex. He found them, and slipped a rubber over Todd's lengthy cock and shoved some lube in Thumper's hole. The second Peter finished with the prep work, Todd plunged his dick into Thumper's asshole, all the way up to the hilt. Then he pulled out again. It was only two or three thrusts later that Thumper was finally able to make a sound--a barely audible, but satisfied, grunt.

As Todd fucked Thumper, Peter stood behind Todd and placed his arms around that smooth, hard chest. Peter rubbed his clothed body against Todd's naked ass and back. Soon, Peter was moving in and out in rhythm with Todd as Todd fucked Thumper's ass. Thumper didn't say much. His eyes were closed, and his mouth was wide open. The only way to tell he was conscious was in the thump, thump, thump of his purple-headed dick.

After awhile, Todd couldn't stand it anymore. "Now, Peter, I want you to fuck me deep in my ass. Shove that dick of yours up my butt-pussy. Fuck my pussy, Peter!" With that, Peter unbuckled his pants, which slipped to the ground, slapped on a scumbag, took one step closer to Todd's smooth body, and with that he was IN! Todd had a wet, delicious ass, tight and ready to take Peter up for a ride. Peter stood against Todd, fucking him, while Todd stood against the bed, fucking Thumper, while Thumper lay against the comforter of the fully-made bed, moaning softly. They were so deep in their pleasure, all three of them, that no one noticed Todd's room mate returning to his apartment, looking across the way at the mini-orgy taking place, finding the note with the apartment number written on it, and leaving as quickly as he'd come.

Five minutes later, the door swung wide open. "What the f--" was coming out of Todd's mouth when he realized who had arrived. "Hi, Jim," said Todd sheepishly, but without missing a thrust of assfucking. "Please don't be mad."

"I won't be mad if you let me join in. How about it?"

"Sure," said Peter, a little nervous about what might happen next. Thumper had nothing to say, because he still had Todd's massive dick up his ass, which suited him just fine. The first thing Jim did was to take off everything he had on, which freed that gigantic beast he'd stuffed into his drawers. It was still limp, but he managed to feed it into Thumper's mouth, one inch at a time. Thumper sucked it down gleefully, until it got so hard that Jim could no longer get it down Thumper's throat from that angle. So he stood on the bed, facing Todd, and had Todd gnaw on it for awhile.

Todd obviously knew how to work such a massive piece, because Jim began swaying back and forth and groaning loud, happy groans. Meanwhile, Todd and Peter continued fucking their respective receptacles and letting out happy groans of their own. Peter started swinging around slightly to one side, knowing his turn at Jim's joint would come next. Right he was, because one moment later in popped the prize prick, ready to work over Peter's achingly ready mouth and throat. Peter did his best to keep from choking on Jim's sizable feast, and he tried to take it deeper and deeper into his throat. By now Jim's tool had been moistened by three mouths, so it slid easily in and out of its target, Peter's wet hole.

Pretty soon, Jim wanted to fuck an ass of his own. He decided it would be Peter's, which appeared to be free at the moment. Jim was tired of wet face holes and wanted a wet asshole. He swung around, sheathed his monster in latex, and without any warning stuck it hard up Peter's asshole. Peter felt the warm, searing pain of the hard, massive pole, but he knew if he only relaxed he could take it in. After a minute, Jim was sliding in and out of Peter's ass as easily as he had slid in and out of his mouth.

The pressure was too much for Peter. Between the sweet ass in front of him and the slippery sea monster behind, he had to pop, and pop big. He pulled his sloppy wet dick out Todd's ass and yelled as he came, buckets of jizz flying all over Thumper and Todd. Jim came next, whipping out of Peter's sore cornhole and cumming all over his back. Todd's load was next to fly, and it flew all over Thumper's chest and face. Thumper snapped out of his dreamy moaning long enough to come. Then he slid back into his sex coma.

The next week was the most exiting of Peter's life. He and Todd and Jim (and sometimes Thumper) spent a lot of hours and shared a lot of activities together. When the week was over, Todd gave Peter his red warm-up pants as a souvenir. Todd said that wherever Peter was staying he'd always be glad to come over and show more.

Peter decided to leave the warm-up pants hanging in Barbara's closet, instead of taking them with him. Since Barbara never really would have a chance to get a piece of Todd's fleshy prize for herself, at least she could have a share of Peter's trophy!