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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
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type of literature, or you are under age,
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 1996. Please
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Shower Buddies
by Stone Wolf (address withheld)
***
A mishap in the coed showers. (MF, exh, no-sex)
***
The Masterton Dormitory was an all-guys dorm, affiliated
with the University's mainly science oriented colleges.
But that all changed when the Beatty Residence, the
females-only equivalent, had a serious run-in with that
primal element, fire.
An entire building full of young women were suddenly
without rooms to sleep in until repairs could be carried
out on almost half the floors to bring the structure
back up to building code compliance. Due to a drop in
funding, that was going to be a long, long time.
The university immediately started looking to distribute
the displaced ladies as best they could among the other
residences, for the rest of the year and Masterton had,
unsurprisingly, a fair number of untaken rooms. This was
a definite step up for the girls from the main gym at
the Phys Ed. building, and a God-send for the University
administration, who only had to provide off-campus
housing to about half of the affected students.
The problem was, nobody actually thought about notifying
the residents of Masterton about their new neighbours
until a few weeks later, leading to this situation...
Harold walked sleepily down the hallway at the ungodly
hour of 7 am. It was his regular routine to get up at
this hour and shower, before breakfast and his 8:30
class, but that didn't make it any the better. Dressed
in his robe, and carrying his bath kit and sundry other
supplies, he grumbled his way past the locked fire hose
cabinet and the empty fire extinguisher bracket.
What bugged him about that? At this hour, who the hell
cared? The biggest problem was operating the doorknob
that opened the wash room door, while juggling kit,
towels, bottles, and a good sci-fi book.
Having surmounted that obstacle, he dumped his stuff on
the counter, noting that there was only one robe on the
hooks. Good. He hated waiting for a shower. He disrobed,
hung the fuzzy article of clothing on the other hook,
and proceeded to sort the necessities of showering from
the other crap he had brought.
Taking his soap, washcloth, and shampoo... Shampoo?
Where is the shampoo? "Shit!" he thought. "I'm NOT going
all the way back to my room just for one goddamn
bottle." He walked past the first stall, which emanated
copious amounts of steam and the smell of soap... What
was that scent, vanilla?
Entering the far stall, he pulled shut the curtain and
laid his stuff (one item less than usual) on the small
shelf, and proceeded to adjust the heat of the water.
This was a laborious and delicate process, involving
minute adjustments of the tap, careful attention to the
sound of the air bubbles in the hot water pipe, and
split-second reflexes, because this shower head had a
tendency to flip upwards and off its stalk if too big an
air block got through it.
Having duly adjusted his water supply, wetted his cloth,
and taken in a generous eye-opening blast of water, he
reached for his shampoo bottle... which naturally was
not there. Pausing a second, he decided that the
necessity of having clean hair outweighed the irritation
of having to interact with some guy he probably didn't
know at this time of the morning.
Risking leaving the shower head unattended for a brief
moment, he pushed the curtain aside and snaked his chest
around the tiled wall between the two enclosures, doing
his best not to step out on the main floor, which had
not been nicely warmed by the hot water. Gripping the
curtain rod above his head with his left hand, he pushed
the other stall's curtain to the side with his right,
and said "Hey, 'morning, man, can I borrow..."
On reflection, this was probably not the right order,
courtesy-wise, in which to have done things, but that
analytical thought was not foremost his mind at the
moment. Foremost in his mind was the distinctly
undeveloped thought, "Shit!" arising mainly from the
fact that the figure he had just jovially addressed as
"man" was decidedly not. She was, in fact, a young
woman, and an attractive one, at that. At least so it
appeared to Harold, whose view was not in any way
distracted by the hampering factor of clothing.
"Excuse me! Do you mind!" was the easily anticipated
reply.
Harold degenerated into what seemed to him to be a
stream of babbling, stuttering, and "uh"ing, punctuated
with multiple instances of "sorry..." and "I thought..."
and "I..." and "Well, could I just...?" He would be very
surprised to know that in spite of an understandable
shock, the unfortunate hour, and the visual distractions
manifestly present before him, his perception of his own
dismal attempts at communication was in fact quite
accurate.
"Could you what?" was the still angry, and now somewhat
guarded reply, as she turned to look him full in the
face.
"Well, could I borrow some shampoo? That is if you have
any. If you don't mind... I mean if it's not too
much..."
"I'll tell you what. Why don't YOU get out of MY shower,
and we'll work from there, okay?", the girl said,
pointing first at him, then the floor.
At that point, Harold broke his eyes away from hers,
just barely escaping the temptation of the inviting
sight of her wet body and looked down to see that he
had, during his mental incapacitation, lost his balance
and stumbled out of his own stall, and around the
corner.
While he had not actually laid a foot into the other
stall, most of him, including, quite frankly, the
important parts, were leaning at a precarious angle into
the young woman's shower, stopped only by the fact that
he had somehow managed to grab onto the curtain bar for
support.
Mumbling an apology, he hastily swung back out, closed
the curtain, and leaned back against the far wall to
collect the thoughts that were now whizzing through his
head, as if to make up for the temporary interruption.
What was a girl doing in the showers at an all-male
dorm? It's a free country, it's a co-ed university, who
am I to say what someone else should do? Yeah, that's
all fine, but what is she DOING here?? Taking a shower,
of course.
"...shampoo?" interrupted his thoughts. "I said, did you
want to borrow the shampoo, or what?"
"Uh... Yeah. Thanks. Um, how...?"
As if in answer to his rather naive question, a
glistening arm emerged from the edge of the curtain,
holding forth the blessed bottle, purveyor of
cleanliness, and vessel of follicle health. Harold
reached out, took the bottle from her hand, and beat a
hasty retreat into his own stall, pulling the curtain
shut behind him, then whipping his hand out in an
instinctive response, to grab the shower head, just
before it could explode ceilingwards.
As if this reflex action had formed a catalyst to bring
him back into a normal routine, Harold put the bottle
down on the shelf for a moment, fixed the head firmly
back on its stalk, and then went about the business of
cleansing his hair.
Time passed without thought as Harold lathered,
scrubbed, and rinsed his hair. Picking up his cloth and
soap, he began lathering his body, starting with his
chest and arms, and working his way down. As he brushed
his now wilting organ (when had it been erect? It was
definitely on the way down.), the image of the young
woman, clad in nothing but shining streams of water,
came unbidden to his mind. His organ was now definitely
on the way up, again.
There she stood, completely open to his view, raising
her arm to point at him, opening her mouth, and saying,
"Are you done with my shampoo? I mean I would kind of
like to wash my hair today too, you know."
Harold snapped back to the present, whipped around,
grabbing the borrowed bottle, and experienced what may
only be termed as whiplash, as his eminently active male
member slapped against his waist. He thrust aside the
curtain, to hang round the corner and pass the bottle
into her stall, and found her already halfway out of her
stall, leaning towards him.
He thrust the bottle into her hands, took one quick,
embarrassed, but unavoidable look at her nicely shaped
breasts (breast and a half, actually, given the
intervening wall, but who's counting), and thrust
himself back into his stall, pulling the curtain closed.
Okay, time for some serious deep thought. No avoiding
it. Why was she here? She's probably the girlfriend of
some guy on the floor. You see girls walking secretively
down the hallways at this time of the morning, all the
time. Pipe's whining, grab the shower head. Yeah, but
taking a shower? Can't they just go back to their own
dorms or something? Well, maybe she's visiting from out
of town, or something like that. Sure, okay, why not
just ask her? Real smooth move, there.
Whoops! Hold tight, there goes the air bubble. Does it
matter? Bottom line: it's an all guys dorm. If she's
here, she's taken. Shower head's done its thing, I can
let go now. Why is that the bottom line? Wake up,
dickhead. There's a naked girl, in the next shower, and
you have to be told what the priorities are? Yeah: leave
it alone. You've already done enough stupid stuff for a
whole week, and it's only about twenty past seven.
*
Twenty past seven it was, and high time our protagonist
was getting out of the shower and on with his day. He
shut off the taps, remembering to flick the hot water
tap twice in rapid succession to try to clear as much
air as possible, and picked up his cloth and soap.
Ignoring the feeling that he'd forgotten something, he
opened the curtain, stepped out of the stall, and then
looked back, realizing that it was his shampoo he'd
forgotten. No, he hadn't, he'd had to borrow from...
Harold's head looked immediately to the other stall,
which was empty and quiet, and then ahead of him to the
counter and the robe hooks, where the anonymous, but
quite unforgettable, girl was just bringing her towel
down from her chest to her legs and bending over away
from him. Umm... He really shouldn't be watching this.
Suddenly, probably realizing that his shower had
stopped, she straightened up and turned around, the look
in her eyes saying that she thoroughly agreed with him.
She pulled the towel up around her, arched her eyebrow,
and looked pointedly (if one may use the term in this
atmosphere) at his blatantly uncovered manhood.
Harold blushed, sidestepped rapidly left, and entered
her stall, thus breaking eye-contact, and nearly his
skull, as he misjudged the location of the end wall of
the shower enclosure.
"Oh my god! Are you alright?" she said, with concern,
taking a few quick steps back towards the showers.
Holding his head, Harold stepped back out where she
could see that he was all right, in order to forestall
her coming any further to assist him, and promptly
realized that this move sort of defeated the whole
purpose of stepping into the stall in the first place.
He stepped back, much more carefully this time, and she
went back to drying herself, before rapidly donning her
robe.
"I'm decent now," she said, picking up her belongings.
"And if you want to come out, I'm leaving." With a
slight hint of humour in her voice she said, "It was
nice meeting you." Then a very definite giggle, muffled
swiftly, but ineffectively.
Hearing the door swing closed, Harold poked his head
carefully around the corner, and, seeing nobody about,
walked nimbly to the counter. He put down his stuff,
picked up his towel, and dried himself off. He then put
on his robe, re-arranged his pile, picked up his book,
and headed to the toilets, for a relaxing session of
reading, deep thought, and the other thing that North
Americans don't like to talk about, except for shock
value.
Thankfully, his routine was not further disrupted, and
he made it safely and well fed to his 8:30 zoology
lecture, which he completely lost track of, his thoughts
being occupied elsewhere.
END
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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 69