Race for a Shower

It was only late June and it was hot. Stepping from the heavily air-conditioned computer lab to the black pavement of the sidewalk was a shockwave of heat on my skin. By the time I crossed the campus to the gym the sweat was beading across my face. It felt good to strip off my clothes and pull on my one-piece swimsuit in the deserted locker room. The comparatively cool water of the pool was a welcome relief. I slid into a lane and began a gliding sidestroke. With the last spring semester over, and summer semester not yet begun, I practically had the pool to myself. My mind slipped away into the routine of swimming. One of the reasons I prefer swimming to a treadmill was that I never was able to zone out on a treadmill with people walking around, music playing, and the college gym meat market in progress. When I want to exercise, I wear a swimsuit that is made for swimming. When I want to look sexy I'll get out one of my barely-there bikinis. But I get ahead of myself.

When my arms and legs were pleasantly tired I headed home. The other advantage of the unsexy swimsuit is that all I needed to do was rinse quickly, pull back on my shorts, slip on my Birkenstocks and throw my backpack over my shoulder without getting too many stares on the walk home. I knew the heat would soon again glaze me over, and I was already looking forward to a shower. My friends and I live on the top floor of a triple-decker near campus: spacious at a reasonable price as long as you can get several people together who can get along. While we'd only been in the place a few weeks, I felt everything was working out great. We were three girls and one guy, which Brian's friends joked was either hell or heaven. Looking back, I think he'd say it was closer to heaven.

As I headed down the front steps of the gym there was a familiar holler from behind me. Brian had apparently just finished his own workout. Brian is a pretty big guy, over six feet, with a build that had been muscular enough for him to play football in high school but not make the team in even our small college. Unlike many other football players I had met, Brian was a friendly and gentle guy. A smile crossed my face as he jogged a bit to catch up. His bare chest was certainly nice to look at, without being the over-muscled mass that turns me off. My boyfriends had been exclusively thin geek types, which perhaps made sense at the time since I am not exactly a curvy sorority girl myself. And after all, I’m pretty much a geek myself, both then and now.

“How was your swim?”
“Not bad. Better than the lab, at least the way my project is going right now.”

We talked for a bit about the frustrations of computer programs that won’t compile, and then I sympathized with him as he talked about mechanical tests that refuse to return consistent results. We were a couple blocks from home when he interrupted our academic conversation, a grin on his face.

“First one home gets the shower!”

I paused for a moment, letting a thoughtful look settle on my face. Then I looked past his shoulder, smiled and started to wave. When he turned to see what friend I was greeting, I took off at a sprint. I could hear his laugh, and his footsteps picking up behind me.

I led him up the hill, past an old man at the laundromat who I’d like to think was cheering me on with a wave of his pipe. Around the corner onto our street I could hear he was pretty close, and I made the mistake of glancing back. His long arm reached out and gently pushed my right shoulder, throwing me off my pace quite effectively. I stumbled a few steps and he was past me. I tried lunging to give his shorts a quick pull to his knees, but he was just a few inches too far ahead. He zipped up the front steps to the foyer of our building and tagged the door.

“Oh yeah! The shower is mine!” he chortled as he pulled out the front door keys.
“Aw you cheated.”
“Yeah, like that look-the-other-way trick was fair.”

He opened the door with a grin, and I noticed his eyes drop considerably below my eye level before he ducked through and up the stairs two at a time. A glance down my own front confirmed what I pretty much expected. My nipples were standing out pretty impressively through my swimsuit from the exertion of the run. My breasts are small, something I wasn’t fully comfortable with until my sophomore year of college. But more embarrassing to me during high school than breast size were my nipples. When erect, my nipples stick out in a way my first boyfriend compared delicately to pencil erasers. It takes either a well-padded bra or a thick knit to hide them away. During my sophomore year I finally came to the realization that I really liked my breasts, and so did the people I was intimate with. Since then I haven’t tried to hide them as much, which is a real comfort in the summer when thin-fabric bras or no bra at all is definitely the way to go.

While I headed up the stairs a plan started to form in my mind. As I entered the front door of our apartment, I heard the door to the bathroom shut. A quick check of the apartment showed that neither of our roommates was home. I poured a small glass of filtered water from the fridge, and drank it while I made up my mind.

Brian and I had always been good friends. This wasn’t the first time I had noticed him checking out my breasts, but then that’s hardly rare for a guy, even with my small chest. I had even flashed a breast at him once when he wiggled his eyebrows at my nipples as we trudged up and down the stairs when we first moved into this apartment. He had come to me to unload over the breakup with his last girlfriend, and I had cried on his shoulder after getting dumped by my first serious boyfriend freshman year. As I pulled off my shorts and bathing suit in the hallway and tossed them into my room, I resolved that if it seemed like I would ruin my friendship with him with what was to come, then I’d back off and apologize quickly. I stood there nude and took a deep breath. Then I opened the bathroom door as quietly as I could and slipped inside.

With the sound of the water rushing around his ears he didn’t even hear me. I pulled aside the curtain and stepped into the back of the tub as he scrubbed shampoo into his curly brown hair. I picked up the soap and slowly reached forward, until my hands touched his back.

He nearly jumped right out of the shower as he spun around, shampoo washing in sudsy clumps down his face. His eyes were the widest, brownest things as he looked straight into mine.

“I figure it was more of a tie. How about if I do your back, and then you can do mine?”

I’d like to say that I was sexy, smooth, and totally in control. I wasn’t. I stammered it out and then gave a hesitant smile rather than the sultry grin I would have in some perfect fantasy world. There was this terrible pause as he kept looking into my eyes, and I was about to panic and step back out of the shower. I had expected him to check out my body, displayed in all its nude glory. When he finally smiled and his eyes drifted down I felt like I could breathe again.

“Yeah. Sure. That’d be great.” He got it out, but his voice about as shaky as my own. The shampoo in his eyes made him wince a bit and he turned back around to rinse his face and present me his back.

A more hesitantly this time I moved my hands up to touch him. My hands were shaking, and I dropped the soap. I kneeled down to get it and he reflexively turned at the sound of the bar bouncing off of the tub floor. As I looked up I could see his penis rising, almost half erect already. I couldn’t tell how much of the warmth in my belly was from the hot steam and water or from my own feelings. My heart was beating at an incredible rate.

I soaped his back, reaching up to massage his wide shoulders a bit. He arced his neck back a bit, and I rubbed his neck at its nape. Neither one of us had anything more to say it seemed, nor did we really need to. I worked my way down his back, and he leaned forward into the wall, the water streaming on his neck and upper back. I didn’t even hesitate as my hands slipped over his buttocks, tracing one hand briefly under and just short of his balls. I wanted to keep it at least a bit innocent for now, and see how things went. I knelt again to wash down each leg from his powerful thighs down to his feet, but again staying away from his cock that I could now see was standing straight up. As soon as I hesitated, he turned around and his penis swayed towards me, and I couldn’t help but look at it. I looked up as his hands softly took my shoulders, and into a smile that was gentle and yet intense like I had not seen before on his face.

“Your turn”

His arms guided me as I slipped past him and into the stream of hot water. As it washed over me I became aware of a tension in my muscles that wasn’t entirely from my laps in the pool. The tension started to subside into a very aware relaxation as his hands worked over my back and up to my shoulders. My head lolled forward as his fingers moved expertly over my neck. Darting through my mind was the sly thought: If I had known he was such a good masseuse I maybe would have been more physical with him earlier in our friendship. As he applied more pressure to my neck I leaned into the wall, unconsciously pressing my butt into his crotch. The unmistakable shape of his hard penis on my cheek sent a ripple of warmth through me that had nothing to do with the water. As quick as I felt his hardness it was gone again and his hands were now working their way down my back. I arched with his touch, moving entirely through sensation as I became more absorbed in the experience. His hands rubbed over my butt, alternating strong pressure with a caressing touch. His hands dipped under much as mine had, and a finger brushed against the bottommost folds of my pussy and traced lightly over my anus. My eyes were closed, the water tapping upon my face, amazingly aware of my own body.

His hands ran strokes down my legs, moving quickly enough that I got the impression he was ready to move on. I reached up to push water from my eyes, and I prepared my sexiest voice to offer to do his front. But before I could turn, his hands were firmly on my waist and he swept us around in a circle so that his back was towards the shower and I was still facing away from him. Now his chest was firm against my back, and his balls and cock pressed into the top of my butt and the small of my back. As his hands circled around my belly I leaned into him and closed my eyes.

Pausing for a moment to rub up some more soap, his hands began at my belly button and slowly worked their way up my ribs. I raised my arms and laced my fingers behind his neck, pushing my chest out and my butt against him. His fingers paused and slowly traced the underside of my breasts and I stopped trying to hold my feelings in and let a ragged breathy moan out. His fingers ran circles around the edges until he gathered up the whole of a breast in each hand. He held me there for a moment, his hands encircling my breasts and his penis pressed into the crevice of my butt. I realized I had risen up on my tiptoes without even thinking about it. I slowly lowered myself with an up-then-down motion, rubbing his cock against my rear. His fingertips played with my breasts, circling my aureoles and over my hard nipple-tips. That pushed another encouraging moan from me. My breasts are very sensitive to exactly that kind of play. I can come pretty close to orgasm just from stimulation of my breasts, something my friend Sara patently disbelieved until the night that we spent exploring and comparing one another.

Brian’s left hand started doing figure eights around my breasts, while his right hand slid down my side and onto my hip. He hesitated for a moment there, and I twisted my pelvis, sliding his hand closer to where I know it wanted to go. His hand slowly moved over the crease of my leg and belly and paused just above my pussy. His fingers slowly circled the small tuft of hair that was all I had kept from the razor, a narrow triangle pointing down.

“Do you always have it like this?” He whispered with a trace of nervousness in my ear. “I’ve never seen a woman all shaved.” Then he corrected himself with a bit of a stammer, “Not in person anyway.”

“Mmmm hmmm” was about the more intelligible thing I could say at the moment, both my breasts and pussy overwhelming my thoughts with their happy clamoring. It was true enough. Once I had become sexually active in college I had found that being clean shaven not only made me feel a lot sexier, it also encouraged lovers in a way I very much wanted. Plus, it left no excuse not to buy tiny thongs and bikini bottoms that made me feel like a goddess when I go out.

His hand on my breast had become still in its teasing, as all of his attention focused on the fingers that slowly roamed over my outer folds. The sensation washed over my clit, and I pressed back into him and let out an undisguised groan of pleasure. As his fingers rubbed around my labia, I ground my butt against his cock, once again up on my tiptoes with my fingers still fast on his neck. His head ducked slightly as he nibbled on my earlobe. To be honest, I hardly felt it as my pleasure grew in waves from my clit. His fingers grew quicker and began to run from my clit down and in between my pussy lips. I bucked my crotch into him and felt the orgasm draw nearer. His left hand drew a quick circle around my breast and briefly pressed my nipple between his fingers, and that was it. I shook in my orgasm and my legs buckled underneath me as I called out some unintelligible praise to his sure and gentle hands. A strong arm quickly wrapped around my waist and held me to him while the other carefully stroked up and down my sex. Waves of orgasm came and went until I found myself almost kneeling on the floor of the tub, Brian crouched behind me.

I eased away from him, and this time I knew the grin on my face had none of the nervousness it had earlier. I raised my eyebrows as I started into his smiling eyes, and then slowly lowered my gaze to his cock.

“You still need some washing, young man.” It was then that I first started to notice the water was only lukewarm, but my brain really didn’t seem to process that fact.

I stood him up in front of me and soaped up my hands. He reached out for my breasts, but I batted them away with a “tut tut tut” and a mischievous grin. Looking him straight in the eyes, I took his cock and balls into my hands and started to rub. He held my gaze for a moment and then held his eyes shut as his crotch jumped. His balls were tight against the base of his cock and I paid them careful attention before moving back to his shaft. Long strokes up his shaft seemed to stir him particularly well, and his crotch pushed against the downstroke of my hands. I started to speed up my motion, and his breath become rough much as mine had been a few moments before. His cock was a big pulsing thing in my hands, covered in soap pushing against my every motion. While I’d like to think that I had been good with my previous boyfriends, I never had felt quite so in command of a man and his pleasure. Brian’s penis was also physically larger than any boy I had been with before either, both in length and thickness. Looking back on it, the grin on my face must have been huge as I licked my lips and wondered how it would feel to take that inside me.

It was about then that Brian gasped and jumped, but it wasn’t from his cock exploding in cum on my hands. The water had shifted entirely cold. His eyes were wide and startled and I couldn’t help but give out an abrupt laugh as he turned to fruitlessly twist the hot water faucet. His movement left a clear path for the water to cascade over my hands and across my chest. Compared to the flush of my nipples, the water felt like ice. The sexual aspect of the moment was broken and we dodged around the shower as we got the last of the soap rinsed off of us. As we jumped out of the shower I looked over at him and he tossed me a towel. Childish grins were plastered on both of our faces and I knew in that moment that our friendship had just gotten stronger and a lot more intimate.

We toweled off, and as we stepped out the bathroom door I could hear Sara singing along with the radio and the sound of clanking dishes in the kitchen. We trooped in on her, still dripping and wrapped in our towels, and she stopped to look at us before she broke into laughter. It was contagious and we all must have laughed for a good five minutes.

“It’s my fault,” Brian said with a mock-sheepish face as he nodded at the sink. “It was my turn to clean up the dishes from last night. If I hadn’t left them and annoyed you….” The pause sent us into another round of laughter.

We packed off to get dressed, Brian promising that he’d be back to clean the dishes as soon as the water was hot again. Sara gave me a knowing look and a wink and I returned a wide and happy smile. It probably left all three of us a bit on horny side, which does much to explain the game of strip poker that happened later that night. But that, my friend, is another story.