The Shower

You know, I thought there might be some problems flatting with all these people, but this wasn't one that came to mind. After all, it's something of a tradition to do it this way.

First year at Varsity, first time way from home, we stay in hostels. Meals are provided, sheets are washed, facilities are clean, available, restricted, and frankly boring. Any of us who manage to find our virginity promptly lose it, in an inappropriate manner, under the influence, and with someone who, if not actually horrid, is certainly not partner-for-life material. Think orangutan. A drunk one.

Drinking edges its way inexorably from desirability to compulsivity. Plans for study are put aside. Partnerships are created and broken with monotonous regularity. Some of us put homosexuality to the test, and find that while we are capable of sex with our very own gender, we would, on the whole, rather not. Then of course, the remaining ten percent take the exact opposite view.

Friendships come and go, there is a lot of laughing, even more crying, devastation, heartbreak, pregnancy, drug addiction, stalkers, streakers, theft, rape, and an occasional hero who comes along and makes it all worthwhile. Of course, not all those things happen to all of us. Personally, I could have done with a few more heroes, but I'm not complaining.

Somewhere along the path toward summer we realise that, despite all the fun and games, we've completely forgotten that we were here to learn something in an academic sense, and realise also that we can't possibly go home and tell Dad about all the extra-curricular learning. He wouldn't want to know about the coke, the drag racing, or the threesome. We're not sure we want to know either, though they all seemed pretty damn good at the time.

As it slowly dawns that we, along with most of the rest of our class, might be in trouble, we knuckle down. We study with a will not before seen, a determination which astounds us all, a focus heretofore thought impossible, and with not nearly enough time for it to help.

The year ends badly, and we all head to various homes, tails between our legs, goodbye-no-strings-just-friends fucking done and dusted, to face parents who are not happy and less than supportive, but privately pleased that we were just the same kind of hellions as they had been a generation before. The fact is, they would like to know about the coke, sex, drinking and heartbreak. But you can guarantee we won't be telling them, unless we can manage to disguise things enough to convince them that it wasn't us.

Summer is spent in remorse, at least in the presence of parents. Many of us need to work hard to raise enough money to do it all again, while the rest waste the time on beaches and in bars. But when it's time to leave home again, and the relieved parents wave goodbye, or drop us off, it's not to the hostel we go. No, we are mature now. Older, and more experienced. We want to feel life with a visceral edge, a reality that only exists when we look after ourselves. We want to cook our own meals, or choose not to. We want to clean up when we feel like it. We want to choose our companions, often based on a five minute conversation late one night, the year before. We want to cram as many people as we can in a small, dingy, dark, grotty flat, and then see if we can drive each other crazy. We want to be grownups.

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I gave it two days after pinning the note to the fridge. Nothing had changed. The fact was, I knew who it was anyway. I just hadn't been quite obnoxious enough to put his name on the note.

The six of us who made up the tenancy were a strange mixture. All intelligent, partly-educated, independent, self-thinking individualists. It shouldn't have been a surprise that we provided friction to one another. The three guys were probably not bad as these things go. They were mostly tidy and clean, and they treated at least us three girls as people. No telling what they did outside the house.

Nev was probably the least extroverted of the bunch. He was a Computer Science student, but he didn't fit the nerdish stereotype of most of his classmates. He was very involved in mountain biking, and was the most likely of the group of us to eat something healthy.

I couldn't stand what he was doing in the bathroom though, and decided I needed to confront him. Don't get me wrong. I had no problem with him masturbating. More power to him. Really. Hell, I've been comfortable with my hand between my legs myself, for years, on a regular basis. It wasn't that, not at all. The problem was having a shower after him, and having to stand on the sticky leftovers. Yuck. Now I realise we girls have an advantage here, but that's no reason to leave evidence.

I waited until the next morning, and sat quietly in the kitchen, until Nev appeared, towel around his waist, and made his way to the bathroom. I wasn't really sure what I intended to do, but had got the idea into my mind that I needed to catch him, in the bathroom, in the shower, in the act. So I followed him down the hallway, and listened to him for a while, until I heard the water start in the shower.

Knowing that I was safe for a few minutes now, I tried the door. We weren't too concerned about nudity in the flat, and the door was seldom locked. Hell, when the guys went for a pee, they didn't even shut the door until we ganged up on them. Sure enough, the door, while closed, wasn't locked, and I could open it easily enough.

The flat we rented was a conversion of a big old house, and some of the rooms were shaped a little strangely as a result. After I opened the door and walked into the bathroom, I still couldn't actually see the shower. I closed the door carefully behind myself, and peered around the corner. Sure enough, Nev was under the water, and just as I got there, he finished rinsing his hair, and turned away from the shower head, and put his back to the water. He would have been able to see me if he happened to look in exactly the right direction, but with soapy eyes, and steam, he probably wouldn't.

The shower cubicle had a clear glass door, and from where I stood, I could see fairly plainly through it. Nev must have been giving his upcoming masturbation some thought, because as he turned, his erection became obvious. He reached up and squeezed a little conditioner on his hand, and carelessly wiped it all over his cock, and that's when my plan went all wrong.

I'd never seen a boy masturbate before, other than up close, his cock right next to me, with our lips together, and me helping. This was different. He stood there, back almost straight, relaxed and calm, closed his eyes, and started to stroke. He had a sizable penis, and from where I stood, I could see that it jutted out strongly from his hips, curving slightly upwards. I knew, from a late night conversation earlier, that he was circumcised, and the head of it was large, and red. Conditioner partially covered the skin, and his right hand slid effortlessly up and down, getting faster as I watched.

I noticed the rest of his body for the first time then, as well. The mountain biking had given him strong shoulder muscles, and his legs held him rock steady. His face was squinting with concentration, and the water was running down the back of his short, dark hair, and down over his muscled back.

The desire to confront him had completely departed, and been taken over by another more basic need, and as I watched him intently, both of my hands slipped down to my thighs, and lifted my skirt at the front. My panties provided very little in the way of a barrier, and I pushed them down off my hips to give myself better access.

Plunging a finger from each hand inside myself, I realised how wet I was, and stroked frantically, covering my labia with ample moisture, sliding my fingers up and down in time with his hand, slowly nearing my clitoris.

I leaned back against the wall now, careless of being caught, and attacked myself vigorously. Two slippery fingers pounded my clit delicately, but oh so fast, and I watched Nev, as he bent his back a little, in anticipation.

Suddenly I realised I couldn't hold on any more. My legs collapsed under me, and I crouched, skirt around my waist, panties around my ankles, knees apart, fingers buried, and stroked, as fast as I could, my hands a blur between my spread legs.

I'm sure I was making noises, but I didn't care then. I just kept watching the tip of his cock disappearing and reappearing through his hand, and stroking myself. Suddenly his movement changed, and my finger slipped, lost in the moment. It didn't matter. As his cock reappeared once more, a thick stream of milky semen flew from it, and sprayed on the glass opposite him, and as he came, I did too, my muscles contracting almost painfully in this position, and I shuddered over and over, as he continued to spray the glass. My body jerked in time with his releases, and my fingers, deep inside me now, were trapped and squeezed wonderfully.

As he stopped painting the shower cubicle, I calmed down a little, and started to realise what a ludicrous situation this was, and tried to stand up, in hopes of leaving the bathroom before I was caught. It was a waste of time. My legs had been strained a little too much, and as I tried to straighten them, I fell headlong onto the floor. It couldn't possibly have been more embarrassing.

He opened the shower door as I stumbled around, trying to push my skirt down, and pull my panties up, and smiled at me.

"You know, Sandy, that's one of the hottest things I've ever seen, but this last part is a let-down."

"You saw me?"

"God yes, from the moment you walked in. I thought maybe you were going to accuse me of leaving a mess in the shower."

"I was."

"Ah. And...?"

"Shit, I... I couldn't. I was..."

"Yes, I could see."

"I'm so embarrassed."

"There's no need Sandy. Umm... at the risk of being bold... you could probably do with a shower."

"Oh, I... I couldn't."

"Uh huh. Come on. Instead of trying to pull those cute panties up, how about taking them off? It's not like I haven't seen already, is it?"

"Look, it wasn't my intention to..."

"I know, I know. I was really angry when you walked in, but somehow the idea of you watching..."

"Oh. You too?"

"God yes. Listen, I do jerk off in the shower, but it's not normally like that. That was amazing. You were too."

"Well, I've never done that, crouching on the floor of a bathroom, and I never intended to, either."

"Come and get in the shower, Sandy."

"You sure, Nev?"

"Oh, yeah. Unless you don't want to."

"Oh, I do. I do."

"Well, come on then."

I stood there in front of him then, and slowly removed the remainder of my clothes, dropping them to the floor carelessly. I was momentarily embarrassed at him seeing my breasts, but realised that was ridiculous, and showed them off proudly instead.

As I opened the shower door, and stepped inside, Nev moved away from the water, and insisted that I get myself wet. I turned away from him, tipping back my head under the hot water, and let it run down my front, a little flowing over the back of my head, and down my back. Nev squeezed some liquid soap onto his hands, and started rubbing it into my shoulders and back, slowly increasing his range of movement to include my arms, and then my hips.

Feeling the heat of the water now, I moved back slightly, and pushed my ass against him. I could feel that his erection had recovered, and hoped that he wasn't going to remain quite so gentlemanly. I need not have worried.

As I gently rubbed my body against his, he squeezed a little more soap and moved his hands to the front of my body, slipping down over my collarbone, knowing somehow, where and when, to stop. His fingertips walked down over the tops of my small breasts before sliding gently all over them, soaping and kneading, squeezing my nipples between his fingertips before continuing down.

It's a strange thing, but my belly button, which is normally ticklish, becomes immensely erotic after I have an orgasm. I've been able to come, when I'm alone, just by stroking there in the right way, but never for the first orgasm. I'm sure he didn't know, unless one of a very short list had blabbed, but he somehow did exactly the right thing, sliding in circles around it, and occasionally shooting straight over the top. I said nothing, encouraging him with my body, and as he continued applying just the right amount of pressure, and his lips started to nibble my ear, I came. Not the earth-shattering near-pain I'd experienced before on the floor, but a gentle wave of pleasure, culminating in a hard clench of my muscles, and a wonderful zing at the end of all the nerves in my body.

I wasn't sure he'd noticed for a moment, as his fingers continued their caresses, and his lips explored my shoulder, but he knew. He just didn't want to break the silence.

I felt released then, my needs taken care of, my stress erased, and my body tingling. There was just one more thing I wanted, and I knew it was the same thing he had in mind. Nev was about eight inches taller than me, so I knew it would be a bit fiddly, but I wanted him just how he was, from behind.

I leaned forward and put both of my hands on the wall in front of me, the water pouring down my back now, and pooling between us wherever possible, and pushed my butt back towards him, making it clear what I wanted again, without speaking. I parted my legs a little, while trying not to bend them too much, and I could feel Nev positioning himself between my legs.

His hands, which had remained in front of me, had moved their way down between my legs, and he used them to help position his hard cock in the right place. Desperate now, I pushed against it, willing it inside myself, and as we both wiggled, and he used his hands to help, the tip of his cock suddenly popped through my labia, and he was inside. It felt so big, due to both the position and its actual size that I hesitated momentarily, and he froze, worried that he'd taken a liberty I hadn't intended. But I was just savouring the moment, and pushed myself down over him, his hot hardness filling me, stretching me, arousing me yet again.

As the full length of him impaled me, I started to move up and down on him, pushing him out and pulling him in, the water from the shower flowing in and around me as well, the hot water and his hot cock so different. I could hear him panting behind me, and his thrusts were becoming a little desperate when I felt his fingers on me, my swollen clit caressed by his wet fingertips, his desperate cock pounding inside me, his breath in my ear, his tongue on my earlobe, and I lost it.

My muscles clenched tightly around him, and I orgasmed. Not the earth-shatter of the first, or the slow pleasure of the second, but a pounding hot wet release. And as I came, clamping him inside me, he did too, grunting and moaning behind me as his seed lodged so deep inside my sopping clamp. We both stood there, in that insane position, each of us encouraging the other to one more muscle contraction, and then, inevitably, we collapsed, arms and legs in all directions, our bodies separated suddenly, and the shower pouring over both of our heads.

Unable to breath where I was, I moved to the side, only to hear a pounding on the shower wall. It was our flatmate Linda, and she wanted to know if we were ever going to get out of there, and stop wasting water. She was also pleased that I seemed to have fixed the masturbation problem, but her language wasn't very nice!

We stumbled out of the shower, wrapped the only towel around both of us, left the remaining evidence on the shower wall, all my clothes on the floor, and walked in as dignified a way as we could manage out to the hallway, to a standing ovation from four people.

Throwing the towel aside, realising there wasn't much point, I dragged Nev to my room, ostensibly for recuperation. The poor boy barely survived the day.