J Long - Motel peeper

Hiram farted in disgust at what he saw in room six. Quickly, he scooted on.

Clackety-clack. Clackety-clack. Clackety-clack.

Room eight was a little more normal, at least for Hiram's taste. A woman was fucking a dead man. But that wasn't what Hiram was looking for – at least for right now.

Clackety-clack. Clackety-clack. Clackety-clack.

Room nine was occupied by – no!

Hiram couldn't believe his eyes! What he was seeing was mind-boggling, even for his ingenious brain.

Reverend Manly was baptizing Hiram's daughter with cum as she was being eaten very thoroughly by that pig law officer Sheriff Colby.

Hiram shook his stethoscoped head.

Hiram couldn't believe his ears! What he was listening to, via the stethoscope, was simply mind-boggling, even for his ingenious brain.

It sounded like… sounded like Reverend Manly was baptizing his daughter Rebecca with cum as she was being eaten alive very thoroughly by the pig law officer Sheriff Colby.

Hiram shook his stethoscoped head.

What the Hell was going on? Where the Hell were all the normal fuckers of Tweedy – people like Wednesday Mallory and Emory Willets and Ferris Collier?

Hiram moved on.

Clackety-clack. Clackety-clack.

Room ten was too bestial to describe – completely unusable for The Secretary's Brown Pubes because Hiram's publisher had told him often enough that scenes of people fucking dogs and sheep did not turn on their average fuck-book readers.

Clackety-clack. Clackety-clack.

Room eleven was very dark. Hiram put on his infrared goggles, watched two big black niggers fucking their shared nigger wife – one in her big ass, one in her big lips.

Where were the normal people? Didn't anybody fuck in just the old-fashioned, man on top way any more? Shit, Hiram was getting desperate. He needed to see what normal fucking looked like because he needed that kind of inspiration to finish off the last pages of The Secretary's Brown Pubes.

Clackety-clack. Clackety-clack.

Room twelve was – oh God!

There is was! A newlywed couple fucking very normally!

Hiram adjusted his infrareds. Smiled happily as he watched them fuck normally – he on top like the dominant male, she on the bottom like a submissive bitch.

There – there in room twelve was inspiration!

Perfect!

Beautiful!

Now he could write the only thing that was left to write for The Secretary's Brown Pubes.

Hiram took off his infrared glasses. Rolled in a clean sheet of butcher paper. Took a deep breath and started typing: