PF-153 Hard Packed Hunks
Hard Packed Hunks
Power Force
PF-153
Norm Peters
$3.95
Excerpt
Monty got even more paranoid. He decided to at least fake a normal reason for being where he. was. He went over to the second stall in the room and pulled open the door. He was in, his back turned toward the toilet, his belt unbuckled, and his pants unzipped, before he realized there was a hole separating his stall from the occupied one.
Monty almost re-zipped his pants, re-buckled his belt, and got the hell out. Then he realized that the guy next door, whoever he was, was probably just as embarrassed by the peephole as Monty was, and was probably avoiding notice of it like the plague.
Monty pulled down his pants and his underpants. He sat down. He waited. At least he figured he now seemed to have a valid excuse for being where he was. He no longer had the inner fear that anyone could accuse him of being a queer, cruising the company cans.
He heard the faint scratching on the partition separating his stall from the next one. He turned toward the noise, seeing nothing but a wall covered with scrawls of graffiti—mostly of a sexual nature:
You hold the whole world in your hand. If you want ten inches, call 925-4600. Have cock—will fuck queer.
The scratching on the partition continued. Monty didn’t know what to make of it. The very fact that it was so out of context made Monty even more uneasy about its presence. It was obvious, after a few moments, that the guy on the other side was using something (a fingernail?) to cause the sounds.
Monty shifted uneasily on his seat. He was very tempted, once again, to pull up his pants and get the fuck out of here. But the guy he was supposed to meet here obviously wasn’t here yet. If it were the guy in the adjacent stall, there would have certainly been more contact by now than just the undecipherable scratching. Yet, there was no one else here yet; or, Monty would have heard the rest room door opening.
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