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I had a part-time job at a fast-food restaurant. I hated it, but I needed the money for college next year. One day I saw an ad for a job cleaning rooms at a motel just a few miles from school and my house. It couldn't be worse than asking "would you like fries with that?"

Across the country there are all these chain motels, but here and there, there were still the old-style motels which catered to travelers who were looking for a cheap place to stay. The motel where I worked was built right after World War II and still had signs posted offering air conditioning and color TV.

The rooms, as you might imagine, hadn't been updated in decades. The walls were thin and back then fake wood paneling was popular.

It had thirty rooms on two floors and between every fourth and fifth room there was a maids' station. In the maids' station were clean sheets, towels and cleaning products. Every day, there was a clean uniform which I had to wear. There was a changing room for the maids next to the manager's office.

That's what I was: a maid. For a few hours before and after school, and on weekends I cleaned rooms. I changed the bedding and linens and cleaned the bathrooms.

It wasn't too bad. Most people weren't real slobs. Occasionally, someone didn't flush the toilet or vomited, but 99% of the time, it was relatively easy.

It didn't take more than a few hours to find that it was the perfect job for someone like me: a Peeping Tom. I showed up for work at 6 AM and the manager gave me a list of rooms that were ready to be cleaned. In the maids' station, I heard noises; I was sure I knew what they were.

To my surprise, there was a very small opening in the seams between the paneling. The opening was tiny, but I could see in. There they were: some couple fucking away with the man on top. I turned off the light in the maids' station. It was mostly dark in the guests' room but I could clearly see them banging away.

I watched and watched. It was like watching Mr. and Mrs. Piotroskywicz or Mrs. Baransa but now I was able to hear them. They sure were noisy; much noisier than I was when I masturbated. The guy sure was giving her a good fucking; or maybe she was giving him a good fucking. At my age with my lack of experience, I didn't know the difference.

I didn't go to school that day. After work, I went home and spent the day playing with my pussy; replaying in my head what I'd seen and heard. And that was just my first day on my new job.

The next day, the first thing I did at work was check all the maids' stations to see if there were small openings where I could see into rooms. The motel was so old that of the six maids' stations located between twelve rooms, I found a spot where I could see into ten rooms.

One or two mornings a week, I'd catch someone. Sometimes not just fucking. I'd watch men standing against the headboard with a woman on her knees giving him a blowjob or a woman on her knees on the floor or on her back, having her pussy eaten.

Just as fascinating for me was the men who were there alone; perhaps a traveling businessman. Invariably, they'd masturbate and I watched. Big cocks, little cocks. Men who only lasted a few minutes. They always sprayed all over the bedding. I loved watching them cum.

Once whatever was going on was over, I'd move on to another maids' station. I didn't shirk my work. In fact, the manager thought I was doing a good job. First, unlike some maids, I showed up every day I was scheduled and on time. My rooms were always cleaned in a timely fashion and done exactly as required. On occasion, the manager would ask, "Wanda, I need room 23 cleaned right away, I have an unexpected reservation. They'll be here in fifteen minutes. Can you get it done for me?"

I was always glad to help out.

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