SEXIS WRONG

lence as the shade fell. “Thanks,” I said, putting on my robe.
“You guys were fun.”
One of them asked through the shade: “Do we get to keep
it?”
“Keep what?” I asked.
“We keep pee?”
“You want the pee?”
“Yes. We want the pee. Please. Pee, please. We want your
pee-pee, please.”
Well, he was being polite.
“If you want the pee, it’s gonna cost you more.”
“How much?” he asked.
“Fifty?” How much was pee going for these days? Maybe I
The glass is thick in the booth, and most of the time the customers
can’t hear what the fuck we’re saying when we try to
talk to them in the hallway, so we usually end up pointing to
our booth door as we make the universal phone sign: head
cocked to the side with hand held up to the ear—pinky and
thumb extended. This usually does the trick, getting them
into the booth, but some of the nervous ones run off when
they see this.
This customer seemed a little skittish, and for a moment I
thought he might run off, too, but he eventually went into
the booth, put some money into the machine, and the show
began.
“You been here before?” I asked.
He nodded yes.
“We want the pee. Please. Pee, please.
We want your pee-pee, please.”
“Are you a naughty boy?” I asked, taking off my bra.
His eyes darted toward the ground, as if he
were guilty of something. He smiled and
said, “Yeah, I’m naughty.”
shoulda looked that one up on the Net first.
“Okay,” he said.
Damn! I could have got a hundred, I thought. “Meet me at
the back door,” I said. “It’s the one right next to the theater
entrance.”
“Okay.”
I tore out of the booth and scrambled to find something to
pour the pee into. I found a large McDonald’s cup in the corner,
complete with straw and lid, and decided to use it. I emptied
the vase into the cup as carefully and quickly as I could.
Aside from a small pelt of urine on my arm, it went pretty
well.
I opened the back door, and the three men were standing
there, smiling. I handed the McDonald’s cup to the man with
the glasses, and he handed me the cash. “Don’t drink it all in
one place, baby,” I said.
He nodded politely.
P**p Show
The clock had just inched past midnight when a customer
walked up to my booth window. He was fairly clean-cut, average
build, and looked to be in his middle to late thirties. He
had a shy demeanor but seemed interested in getting a show,
nonetheless. I thought maybe he’d need a little prodding, so I
moved closer to the glass and yelled, “Hey, baby, would you
like to get a show?” He just stood there, smiling blankly.
“What kind of naughty things do you like to do?” I asked,
taking off my panties.
He pointed at my ass and said, “I like that.”
“Oh, you like my ass.” I smiled. “What would you like to do
to it?”
He bit his lip and said, “Well...I would start by licking it.”
“Oh, really?” I said, slapping my ass.
“Yeah...and once it was nice and wet, I’d stick my cock in it,”
he said.
At this point he had his cock out, and he made a thrusting
motion with it toward my ass.
“Oh, I like it up the ass,” I said.
He stopped masturbating and pulled his pants down to his
ankles. “Do you want to see my ass?”
I really didn’t want to see his ass. Normally, when a guy asks
you this question at a peep show, what he really means is:
“Do you want to see my asshole?” I’m never good at getting
myself out of these situations. I tend to be too nice at times,
so of course I responded: “Sure.”
A huge smile spread across his face. He turned around and
leaned forward toward the wall. He reached one arm around,
grabbing his left ass cheek and spreading it.
Oh, my God, I thought to myself. I tried to avoid making eye
contact with the sphincter surely staring back at me. He
looked at me over his shoulder, checking for my reaction. The
210 EVERYTHING YOU KNOW ABOUT SEX IS WRONG