There was a tiny problem with taking showers where I lived then. No, it wasn't that other people used up my soap and shampoo, because I wisely kept them in my room. And wasn't that the lock was broken and sometimes people would walk in on me, because that was kind of exciting (they were mostly boys). And it wasn't that this shower sometimes went freezing cold with no warning, although that was very annoying and could be a real o-killer. No, it was that sometimes the water suddenly came out at a scalding temperature and you cooked like a lobster. I'm serious. Painful red welts that lasted for days. But nobody was seriously hurt, so I tried to look at it as a mean painplay tease.
I had to do that because for me, masturbating in the shower is something close to a religious observance. I've always felt very sensual bathing. For a long time now, I'd had "silent but deadly" cumms from playing with myself, and I'd gotten away with bringing my cookie off in I guess you would say some crazy places, as well as very often. That included almost every shower I took in that building. I trembled hard, likely made some funny faces too, but standing outside waiting for your turn you'd never know.
So on the morning when next we like lay our scene and shit, I was in the shower with my eyes closed and the warm water streaming down me, yanking a nipple with my left hand and slapfucking myself with my right. Maybe slapfucking is just a me thing. That's when I have my middle finger pumping inside me, but the rest of my hand cupping my pussy. I move my whole hand in and out and it's like a pussy slap as well as a deep finger. A real challenge to do quietly, both for the slapping and the not crying out.
Yeah, I had a few toys, the same ones every girl's got under a pile of lame sweaters. The same old injection-molded fake dick, the same old noisy "back massager" on clearance from Target, the same old vibrating bullet on a cord with a control stick so you can spend a day with it taped to your clit and realize it's not really as hot as perverts make it sound, and of course the same slimmish, featureless vibrator that's only vaguely dick-shaped. But for the Masters, I kinda prefer the personal touch when I'm touching my personal.
Joe thought we were a couple. I helped him think that being a couple meant we had to do it constantly, and never with protection. I used phrases like "Don't you trust me?" and "Don't you love me?" to wrap him around my finger. I think he was failing all his classes at that point, because I didn't give two shits about his school schedule.
But sometimes I wanted to fly solo. And morning showers were some of those times. My middle was surrogate dicking me from fingertip to palm on every stroke, and I was thinking about that en_extase story where this girl is home from college and she's fucking her older sister's boyfriend in the shower while that sister is brushing her teeth like three feet away and scolding him for not getting along with her family. Our heroine is bent over to the wall, and she looks back at her sister's boyfriend while he's got his whole cock sleeved in her, and she makes a pouty face at him like "aw, isn't it so sad that you're not being nicer to me?" And even though they're not moving and trying not to make any noise, he goes off into her right there.
That's like my favorite shower fantasy. I was imagining myself as that little sister, holding still and being quiet while my sister's older boyfriend guiltily throb-throb-throbbed his globby payload into me. I was imagining the kind of face he'd make, and getting really close, when someone rattled the door.
I slipped my finger out of myself and pulled back the frosted glass door. It was David, the guy next door. I didn't know him very well, only that he had a huge adam's apple and was on the school team for some girly sport like swimming or aerobics or tennis. He was wearing nothing but a pair of tented blue briefs, and I realized that although the glass was frosted, enough of me had been pressed against the glass to give him a show. Of course, he was a show too. Obviously rolled straight out of bed, messy hair, not at all hulked out but tight and toned, with nice clean abs.
I turned off the water so we could talk. "Hi David," I said, catching my breath, "what's up?" I had a pretty good idea what was up in those briefs.
"I've got places to be in 20 minutes," he said. And then he got a little impolite. "Isn't all that sex with Joe enough?"
No, it wasn't. Joe wanted it, and I guess I wanted it, but it was boring, even though I made a point of experimenting with new positions every time. "We're not having sex," I said, "Joe and I are just roommates." Behind the glass door, I slipped my hand back to my clam and began to move my fingertips together in a clit-mashing circle.
"Come on," said David, "I can hear it. 'Oh Mary, oh Joe, oh Mary, oh Joe.' All the time."
I guess together, we're not that quiet. "Uh... sorry."
"Some crazy dirty talk too. Are you really trying to get pregnant?"
"No."
"I didn't think so." He stared through the door and I realized too late that there was enough detail through it for him to see where my arm was. "Are you still buffing it?"
I looked him in the eye and panted a little. "Yeah. You shouldn't have interrupted me."
"Well, like I said, I got things I need to do, so could you finish yourself off someplace else?"
"You're gonna be late anyway," I said, speeding up, "'cause of the time it'll take you to whack it down the drain."
"I've got a little more discipline than you."
"Really?" I said, "Even after seeing this?" And I slid the door all the way open. I was still going at it.
He swallowed hard and stared at my boobs. My boobs are not gigantic, but what I do have going for me is what Janey calls nip-henge. My nipples are very expressive, and when I'm hot for it, you can see thick, rough circles of hard points in the halos. In a way, they stare back.
"Tell you what, David," I said. "I'm a nice neighbor. I can blow you so you won't be late."
"I want to fuck," he said urgently, moving his attention from my nips to my bulging, flushed twat lips, which puckered as I mauled them, giving him glimpses of the pink. He slipped his dick out of the fly in his briefs. It was all the way barred up.
"I don't fuck. I'm a virgin."
"You're a lying slut!" he hissed, and pushed me against the back of the shower stall as he stepped in.
This was among the hottest things that had ever happened to me. His precummy joy fist was resting skin-to-skin on the center of my upper body, just under my tits. I think I could have taken his pulse if I'd been counting the throbs. It is awesome that cocks throb, one of my favorite things about them. I felt my wet shoulderblades and ass sliding smoothly on the wall tiles as I stared at him, lips parted, willing him to rape me.
Instead he moved to one side as if to let me out, looked down at his own needy bone, and started jacking it with a white-knuckled fist.
"Stop it!" I whispered sharply. "I said I'd blow you."
His hand stopped and he looked up at me.
"I'll suck you off if you promise me I'm a virgin. And not a liar or a slut."
"Okay," he said, eyes wandering all over me. "Do it."
"First you say it," I said, twisting my shoulders. Maybe he could still lose control.
But he didn't. "You're not a slut, Mary. I believe you. You'd never tell a lie. If you say you're a virgin, you're a virgin. The guy... the guy who pops you is going to be so lucky." His eyes were watering. "Now suck me!" he begged.
I had him all the way in my throat before my knees actually touched the floor of the stall. He made a sound that was more of a yodel than anything else. I dragged my lips up to the mid-shaft and mouth-fucked him in short strokes back and forth.
To stop him grabbing my head, I reached up and held his hands, feeling his sweaty palms quiver. One of my hands was just wet on his, but the other was slick with my cunt leakings.
The point of my move was not the shaft, of course, which isn't very sensitive (and I wanted to finish him fast). I was getting his head to go in and out of my throat. He was extremely happy about it, and after about fifteen quick strokes, he was giving my tonsils a hot bath to go with the massage. I could tell he was trying not to make too much noise, but his orgasmic sigh must have involved the full capacity of his lungs.
