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peterboy1.peperonity.net

DORM SHOWER

Thinking back to last fall and the near disaster we almost encountered,

Jamie and I worked out in advance what we were planning to do with our

summers. We had long since decided not to be 'possessive' about each other

when we had to be apart.

Jamie had a co-op research job waiting for her

down south, and I was going home to work with a friend of my father's, his

company needed someone with mechanical drawing skills. So we knew, as March

came around, that we wouldn't have much longer together. We were determined

to make the most of it.



It wasn't going to be quite what we expected, though.

I came in from the rain looking like a wet bear. I'm a medium

sized guy, 5'11' and about 180lbs, but what really made the image work was

my shaggy brown hair and the beard that hadn't quite grown in yet. The beard

had been a major source of friction between us in more ways than one, but

Jamie was being pretty good humored about it so far.

I went back to my room, stripped to the waist, and dried myself off. When it hangs straight,

my hair goes right down to my shoulder blades. That's never an issue,

though, because my hair could no more hang straight than I could flap

my arms and fly. Straight or rumpled, though, it holds a lot of water.

A few minutes later, feeling much drier, but now looking like a

bare-chested caveman, I strolled down the hallway to the washroom, to get

combed and presentable again.



In the hallway was Tina Brauer. She was dating Shawn (Woody) Woods,

the guy who lived across the hall from me.

She went to an all-women's college about 20 miles away, and she often

stayed with him on weekends. She was wearing her bathrobe, and walking

towards the bathroom just ahead of me. She had long brown hair and nice,

slender legs.

The bathroom was shaped like a hallway. Facing me, there

was a giant mirror covering one wall from hip level, up to a height of

about 7 feet. It had a row of sinks in front of it, and the shower stalls

were on the opposite wall. Tina went into one of the shower stalls, and

pulled the plastic curtain closed.


Nonchalantly, I selected the sink almost directly opposite her shower stall,

so I could watch the mirror for any interesting action.

I didn't know why I did stuff like that. If she were

to throw the curtain open, and expose her entire naked body, I'd probably

hide my eyes, and scream for her to cover herself. But for some reason,

I was hoping for a glimpse of a bare thigh, it would turn me on with its

silky shine.

Inside the stall, I heard her slide out of her bathrobe, and

I saw a slender arm reach up to hang it on a hook in the stall's changing

area. Then there was the sound of another sliding plastic curtain, and the

water started.


Meanwhile, I trimmed my beard with a pair of tiny scissors

I had bought for that purpose. I knew that if I was going to see anything

interesting at all, it wouldn't be until she came back out of the inner

cubicle. Sometimes women left the curtains open a little. I wondered if

they didn't know about the mirror trick, and were just taunting us.


Suddenly I heard a wet thump in the shower stall, and then a loud and

repeated coughing, choking noise. I put down my scissors. "Tina?" I asked,

in a mid-tone between "concerned" and "no-I'm-not-being-nosy". Then there

was a fairly loud noise, like someone vomiting. "Tina?!" I called, much

louder and less-worried-about-being-nosy. There were more choking sounds

and a wet thrashing on the floor of the stall.


Ok, so this is where normal, socially polite behaviors get dropped,

you can't hesitate about saving a drowning victim because he's skinny dipping,

and you want to respect his privacy. I ran into the shower stall, on fire with "rescue fever".

I tore open the inner curtain to see what was happening, and... there was Tina.


Well,of course, there was Tina. I knew that before I went crashing into the stall.

The trouble was, she didn't really look all that distressed or anything.

In fact, she was kneeling on the floor of the stall, with her legs tucked

under her, swishing her hands and thumping the floor to simulate the

thrashing sounds I had heard. And she was grinning at me.

"Well," she said, "this is what you wanted to see, right?"

Oh shit.

I made a little choking sound of my own then, as I tried to make up about 5 different lies

at once, but couldn't choose one quickly enough.



"What are you *doing*?" I managed to get out at last, "Are you crazy?"

She looked like a water nymph, there, with her brown hair soaked and laying on her shoulders, and

small drops of water running down her olive skin.

"I was just playing a little joke on you * Mr. Peeping Tom *." That grin still didn't quit.

One of us obviously thought this situation was amusing.

"I can't...I just...I..." that was about as coherent as I was going to get, apparently. I'm

sometimes fluent when I'm angry, but never when I'm embarrassed.

Shesaid, "Oh, don't take it so hard," and smiled shyly. I wish she hadn't

used the word 'hard'. Her flat little breasts, and tight brown nipples,

were starting to get me 'interested' in an altogether unacceptable manner.

She held her hand out to me, "Help me up?" Despite the unlikeliness of

her needing any assistance, I took her hand and helped her to feet.

Even though the shower stall was built down about three inches from the

changing area where I stood, she still came almost up to my nose. The

steaming water was still pouring onto her, and she brushed her wet hair

back behind her ears. Then she tilted her head up towards me, eyes closed

and lips parted invitingly.



I stepped back. "You've got to be kidding me."

She opened her eyes. "What?"

"What was all this about? Where's Shawn, anyway? Is this some kind of practical joke?"

I sound pretty authoritative when I speak like that.

"Shawn's at marching band practice.

He won't be back until 8."

"It's raining out! They'll cancel it!"

"Silly. They practice in the dome. What's the matter, don't you like the way

I look?" She looked a little downcast.



"Well, of COURSE I like the way

you look," I stopped then, because she was looking really amused at having

suckered me with the sad look. I was beginning to feel completely

outmaneuvered, and a little panicky.


She stepped out of the stall, then, and backed me against the wall, tracing a line

down my chest with her fingernail. She was leaving a dripping trail on the floor.

I don't know why I noticed that.

"You watch me every time I get in the shower. There

must be something you like." She bit her lip. "Something you want."

I swallowed. I was sweating uncomfortably, because I knew exactly what I

wanted, and if I got it, it would lead to no end of trouble.



She leaned in towards me, and my back was up against the cold tiled wall. Her small,

flat breasts pressed against my bare chest, and I could feel the hard

tips of her nipples pressing into my skin. Once again, she tilted her head

up towards me, her eyes closed, and her lips slightly parted. This time,

I lowered my mouth onto hers. She had a sweet tasting mouth. She was a

gentle kisser, she lapped softly at my lips, rather than trying to devour

you. But she was thorough, too, and her tongue gently explored every part

my mouth. As I kissed her, I fantasized about how exquisite her gentle

kissing would be, if she were to kiss me somewhere else.



We made out softly for a long time. She didn't put her arms around my neck like a lot of

women do. Instead, she caressed my shoulders and chest, and played

with my nipples. I did the same to her. She had wonderful nipples,

taut brown circles with hard nubs like little pencil erasers. I rolled

them in my fingers, and squeezed her small breasts in my hands.

I took a nipple between my thumb and forefinger, and asked her between kisses, "Do

you like pinches?" She breathed the answer into my mouth, so softly that

I could barely hear her, "yes..." So I pinched her, maybe a little harder

than I normally would have, because she had me so hot with emotion. She

moaned into my mouth as we made out, and her face winced with pain, but she

pressed herself harder against me, and began to rub her thigh against

mine. I was drenched, and furiously, passionately aroused by then. The

shower was still thundering in the background, filling the changing stall

with steam, and our bodies were lobster red and sweating. She licked the

beads of sweat from my chest, and my stomach, and then worked her way slowly

downwards, until she was kneeling in front of me, her face towards the

waist button of my jeans.



She undid the button and the zipper with her slender fingers, and pulled my jeans down to my thighs.

Then she pulled the waistband of my undershorts down, and exposed me. She put a fingertip

on the head of my cock, and swept up a bit of the clear fluid that was

squeezing out of the tip. She put her finger in her mouth and tasted it.

"It's sweeter than Shawn's," she said.

I wish she hadn't said that. It pained me to look down at her, but I did.

And she was beautiful and almost innocent looking, which I already knew.

She said, "You're sweeter than Shawn." Oh, kill me. Just stick a knife in me,

and leave me for dead.I should never be around women, I don't have the guts for it.

She kissed me then, on the stomach. Then she kissed me right where my brain

was begging her to kiss me, and ...


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