Message-ID: <27797asstr$976389003@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: "omnivore" X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V4.72.3110.3 X-Original-Message-ID: NNTP-Posting-Date: Sat, 09 Dec 2000 03:43:48 GMT Subject: {ASSM} Shower Club: Introduction and Chapters 1-4 (ff mast voy oral femdom) - Recap Date: Sat, 9 Dec 2000 14:10:03 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, RuiJorge Shower Club by omnivore Disclaimer: Of course we need to start off with the usual **LEGAL** stuff about this being adult material. Leave now if you are too young to read sexually explicit stuff, 18 in most jurisdictions, some require you to be 21. Obviously these stories will be about sex, and by the end of it guys and girls will have been put together in just about every conceivable combination, so if you are an adult and find this sort of thing offensive, don't read it, go elsewhere. Permission is hereby granted to reproduce, archive, and disseminate this story by any means, as long as the following conditions are met: 1) The entire text of the story is reproduced, archived, or disseminated, including this disclaimer and the author's name. 2) The story is not reproduced, archived, or disseminated as part of any commercial product or collection that is distributed for financial gain. This exclusion applies specifically to, but is not limited to, archives that require an Adult Check ID number for access to this file. It also excludes any archive that accepts advertising on any web page visible to a person attempting to access this file. In the interests of full disclosure, I should point out that after I got this whole, ridiculously long story arc plotted out, and started writing this thing, I did a little search on the web to see if it had been done before, and I came across a story called "The Shower Club" by Captain Atom. It's a much more straightforward heterosexual showerfuck written, I believe, before the book or the movie "Fight Club" were released. A little free ranging fantasy at the time I was reading the book which took place just days after discussing the movie with a co-worker, led to the inspiration for this little exercise in self-indulgence, not Captain Atom's story, as nice a piece of work as that is. For the record, this is the first thing I've written since some nonsense sent out into the AOL chatroom wastelands many moons ago, and the first thing I've ever really tried to post. As a result, insert all the usual mumbo jumbo about copyright here. I hope you enjoy it. If you do, feel free to let me know here on the newsgroup, or at omnivore@mad.scientist.com. I'm even open to helpful suggestions about revisions or editing, since I've never attempted anything anywhere near this long, but I probably won't "publish" any revised sections until the whole thing has come out, when I can do it all at once. No promises how long this will take me, either, this is definitely a spare time effort. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Introduction The First and Second Rules (no sex, bear with me) ----------------------------------------------------------------- I know I signed up for some classes that spring, but frankly they're a blur. Not because I wasn't paying attention or getting the work done, mind you, I aced all five that I was taking, but because something else came to dominate my life so thoroughly that it moved everything else that happened into the background, barely more distinct than half-remembered dreams, or the plots of sitcoms you saw when you were in grade school. The first rule about shower club is that you don't talk about shower club. I guess that I'm breaking the rules by doing this, but Tyler's gone and I just feel like it's time that someone really knew what happened around here last semester. The articles never had more than a tiny part of the story, and the rumors were either way too tame or wildly exaggerated and completely off base. The truth deserves to be recorded, though, because the experience was so intense, the situation so extreme, that if I don't write it down, make myself say it all in words on paper, in ten or twenty years I'll wonder if it even happened. The second rule about shower club is that you don't talk about shower club. In fact, the one thing that really impressed me about shower club is that with only ONE exception . . . well, one exception up until now, anyway . . ... the first and second rules were never broken. That's a lot better than the cooperation the Brad Pitt and Ed Norton got in the movie "Fight Club," but then again that idea wouldn't have worked without a little word of mouth. Ours would never have worked without utter and total silence, not in the gossip-happy world of a college like ours, where almost all of the students live on campus. It's not a tiny school, but we live in groups of less than 500 that all share the same dining hall, and you get to "know" a lot of people in a big hurry. There were advantages to that level of contact, too, though, because it helped us pick people REALLY carefully for shower club. Like I said, now that Tyler's gone, I think it's important to get the real truth on the record. Or in my journal anyway, and I think I'll share it with the rest of the members of shower club. We'll just have to see if it gets distributed any further than that, but what the hell, I wouldn't be too ashamed if it did. I think there was something really amazing in what we did, and just to play it safe, I've changed everyone's name but Tyler's anyway, so only our closest friends will even suspect it might have been us. That bitch never REALLY saw anyone but Tyler, anyway, or anyone else's face, at least. And in case anyone is wondering, I've deleted all the photo files, and even had one of my comp sci geek buddies do a really clean wipe of my hard drive (I told him an ex-boyfriend had downloaded kiddie porn onto my disk, and oh goodness me, I just had to make sure it was clean, and I could just see him twitching to see what it was before he purged it from the universe forever). In the interests of full disclosure, I should reveal that Tyler and I both just loved the movie "Fight Club," even if was way too boy-happy, and we liked the book even more, since it pushed things so much further in every conceivable direction. However, I want to assure everyone that Chuck Palahniuk, David Fincher, Ed Norton, Meatloaf, and Helena Bonham Carter were in no way responsible for anything that happened. Brad Pitt might have had a little something to do with it. But we were adults, who did we did of our own free will, and the media should not take the blame (or the credit) for our actions. Now, the idiots that are running their very own so-called "fight club" on our campus and were foolish enough to give their names to the school paper, they're clearly just warped, and have been led astray by the Hollywood devils. We knew exactly what we were up to. We were totally open about ripping off the book/movie every chance we got, and even without Tyler's name it would have been clear to everyone who was playing what part. Tyler Renfro hated her name for years, she told me once, because it sounded exactly like a name for just the sort of "prep princess" that she really was. She claimed to hate not only seeming like a stereotype, but proving it right at the same time. When I met Tyler she'd already seen the movie a couple of times, and what I think now is that when she saw it, she started thinking about power in a whole new way, and even gotten a whole new perspective on her name. She always was a little obsessive about things like that. And she was always in control, from the very first night. Sometimes I wonder if we really were improvising what happened as we went along, or if maybe she hadn't had the whole thing planned from the very beginning. Who am I kidding, most of the time now I think she did have it all planned, and that all I was doing was playing a part that was scripted for me. But the funny thing is, it doesn't really matter either way. I loved every minute of it, and would do it all, every bit of it, over again in a heartbeat. Who knows . . . maybe I already am. After all, the first rule about shower club is that you don't talk about shower club. And the second rule about shower club is that you don't talk about shower club. Here goes. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Shower Club, Chapter 1 Bathroom Friends (f f mast voy) ----------------------------------------------------------------- I wish I could say that I met Tyler Renfro as a single-serving friend on a plane, like in the movie, or on a nude beach, like in the book, but the fact of the matter is that I met her in the bathroom. Not nearly as cool, I know, but then again if it had been anywhere else the whole thing might have gone differently. I mean, what's the name of this whole thing, anyway, not to mention the name of this chapter? Let me get the Penthouse Forum prelude out the way, before we go any further. Ahem . . . I'm a sophomore at a prestigious east coast university, and wasn't very sexually experienced when I got to college, and I definitely never thought anything like this would ever happen to me. I turned 19 at some unspecified point during this story (no point giving you TOO many clues), and I'd describe myself as good looking, but far from gorgeous. Dark brown hair, shoulder length, hazel eyes (contact lenses), flat stomach, belly ring (everyone at my high school did it, what I can say?), 5' 4", 34B chest, pubic hair trimmed but only moderately, decent butt (nothing to brag about), clear skin, nose maybe a little too big, no visible tattoos or scars, hymen no longer intact (probably from tampons, initially, but my senior year boyfriend's dick probably didn't do it any good, either), non-disgusting feet (despite freakish "second-toe-longer-than-big-toe" mutation), short fingernails (only occasionally chewed), cute smile (everyone says it, even if I don't really see it), and one mole perched on my right hip, just at the point where you can push through and feel the point of your pelvic bone. Step right up close and take a real good look, `cause you're not getting descriptions this clinical for anyone else in the story. I want to keep people anonymous, but I don't want to put anyone in disguise, so I'll just have to be moderate, and maintain deniability. I had lost my virginity at the age of 17, and slept with my last three "serious" boyfriends, but it was pretty vanilla sex, and fun but not terribly exciting. Oh, and since I know you'll ask, no. And I'd never even given it that much of a second thought, although I had wondered what it was that got guys so inevitably hot about it. I mean, how many Skinemax movies have BOYS having sex together in them, anyway? Tyler definitely had an opinion about that, believe me. So now picture that wavy line effect on the screen, or maybe Superman spinning the world backwards in order to save Lois Lane, and follow me back to one fateful day in February . . . when I was first really introduced to Tyler Renfro. ------------------------------------------------ It was a Tuesday night. For some reason I remember that clearly. Working on some stupid paper had kept me up past 3, and I headed for the shower through completely abandoned, silent hallways. One of the disadvantages of the majestic gothic dorms we live in is that sometimes there isn't a girls' bathroom on your floor, and I was one of the unlucky ones, but I didn't mind walking the halls in my robe, or even occasionally in a towel, when it was this quiet. In the mornings it feels like a train station, sometimes, and every guy seems to be trying to peek in your robe, or use his puny mind ray to make your towel fall, which is why I usually showered at night. When I got to the bathroom, it was equally deserted, and after taking a quick pee, I headed for the last shower stall. Some idiot friend of mine once sent me this little, marginally funny .exe file about "How to Choose the Correct Urinal," and I'd say that shower etiquette in a 5-shower college bathroom is about the same. The first one in always takes the far end stall, The next one takes the stall at the near end. The third takes the one dead in the middle, of course, and the next two in are left to pick one of the remaining "surrounded" spots, or if they're really uptight they might even wait a really long time before they finish their "pre-shower preparations." I didn't really care one way or the other, but I knew enough to follow the rules, even if there didn't seem to be anyone else awake in the entire entryway. The steaming hot water was exactly what I needed to drive away all thoughts of gender-related themes in classic fiction or social stratification or the history of Arab rule in Spain or whatever the hell it was I was writing about that evening. I washed my hair, and then just sort of soaked for a while, or as close as you can get in a bathtub-less world, anyway, leaning against the wall and letting the water just pour over me. I slowly tried to let every muscle in my body relax, from my toes up to my head, turning my face up to let the water rush past me. One of the advantages of the number-keyed locks on the bathroom doors is that they make a lot of noise, and the design of the bathroom makes it really easy to hear someone coming long before they could . . . well, catch you at anything. You know what I mean. I had avoided boys completely since arriving at school (a combination of lingering feelings for my summer boyfriend, annoyance at my desperate, idiot classmates, and disdain for the cocky upperclassmen who thought they had it made with the chicks just because they could get them into parties) and had taken advantage of the shower room's basic "safety" more than a few times. After all, how am I supposed to play with myself with my roommate in the room, thank you very much? On the Tuesday in question, I really felt like I deserved a good orgasm, having worked my ass off for the last three nights in a row. My roommate, generally a pretty tolerable person, had really been getting on my nerves, and if she hadn't been sleeping over in her boyfriend's single room two out of every three nights since Orientation Week, we would probably have been at each other's throats. I'd been rejected from the singing groups I'd tried out for, even though I knew I'd been a lot better than when I'd done it first semester, and had made two separate callbacks. Poor, poor pitiful me. But a good wank could solve all of that (the word "wank" is one of the greatest gifts the English have given the world, by the way), or at least make it MUCH less important for a moment. Just to be sure I was alone, I shut off all the water and just stood there for a second, listening. Nothing. I turned the water back on, got it to that perfect, hot but not too hot temperature, and started by massaging my small, firm breasts, gently tweaking and rubbing the nipples. While my left hand kept playing with my nipples, I reached down between my legs with my right hand, and lightly touched my clit. There was no time for extensive foreplay in a "shower massage," as I liked to think of them. I leaned back against the tile wall of the show, re-adjusted the shower head so that it was back on me, and started rubbing with intensity and vigor. Occasionally I'd slip a finger or two up inside me, but the big pop is really from going straight for the center of things, and I focused all of my attention on that little nubbin. Eventually I was leaned against the back of the shower, head down, both hands working furiously, doing intricate little dances of fingers and thumbs and musical patterns and combinations, breathing faster and faster and faster, eyes tightly closed, and still with ears straining for the slightest sound of someone coming through the door. I was on the top of the roller coaster hill, just waiting for that final click when the screaming starts, when for some reason, maybe a subtle shift in the light against my closed eyelids, I looked up. And I saw her. There was a girl looking at me through the gap between the shower curtain and the shower wall, and she was looking me right in the eye, not embarrassed at all, but my fingers couldn't stop, and suddenly the click came, and it was a hill, a loop and a corkscrew, followed by a few more hills, with everyone in every car screaming the entire way, with fireworks exploding in the beautiful dark blue sky and a brass band waiting on the platform. Here I was, eye to eye with a person I hardly knew, and I was having the orgasm of my life, and as I was slowly shuddering to a stop, she just stared at me, and she smiled. And then she walked away. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. What the fuck?! All I could do was lean up against the wall, catching my breath, totally stunned, my mind racing furiously, but incoherently. I heard her enter the shower stall immediately to my left. Next to mine. A blatant violation of the rules. I heard the shower start, and wondered what I should think about what had just happened. Should I say something to her? Would she keep it a secret? I may not have known her, but I knew who she was. Her name was Tyler Renfro and her dad was some kind of millionaire, but that was true of so many of my spoiled classmates that it didn't seem remarkable at the time.. What was remarkable was her face . . .. oh, and her figure . . . and, oh right, her incredible, naturally red hair. In fact, she was fairly universally acknowledged to be the most beautiful girl in our college, and those in the know said she was in the top five, campus-wide. Her breasts were large, her skin was white and perfect, her eyes were a green so brilliant they looked like they glowed. And she had seen me masturbating. Some columnist recently wrote a piece in our campus paper describing different "classes" of friend, and the only one I thought had any real validity was the "bathroom friend." A bathroom friend is someone that you know enough to make chit chat with in front of the mirrors in the bathroom, but anywhere else on campus you'll just acknowledge with a wave or a raised eyebrow and a nod. For a good portion of the year, you may not even know their name. As far as I was concerned, Tyler was definitely a bathroom friend, but beyond a few five-minute discussions of parties and classes and politics, I didn't think I'd ever really talked to her. She definitely hung out with a different crowd than I did outside those tiled walls. I was still a little frazzled, both from the orgasm and the surprise, and no matter how much I tossed it around in my mind, I couldn't decide if she was the type to talk or not. After a few minutes of dithering, I came to the conclusion that there was really nothing I could do about it, and that if I was lucky she'd be just as embarrassed about watching me as I was about being watched. If that was the case, she'd never even acknowledge that it had happened. I crossed my fingers and repeated it to myself silently: She won't tell. She won't tell. She won't tell. I quickly finished my shower, wrapped myself in my towel, grabbed up my stuff, and got set to hustle out of the bathroom before there could be any kind of confrontation in front the mirrors, or something. But as soon as I stepped out past the curtain from my stall, I heard something. It was a low, growling, quiet moan, and it had clearly come from the stall Tyler was in. I started to walk past, and the curtain was half open, so how could I help seeing her there. Totally naked, one hand busy between her legs and the other stretched behind her, apparently playing with her asshole. Her breasts, which I'd never seen before, were incredible: large but still totally firm, with big, light pink nipples that were clearly erect. She was easily as "in the moment" as I had been a few minutes before, just inches from the peak, but there was one crucial difference. She was looking right at me. Staring. Smiling, even as her legs started twitching and her breath started her catch. Her eyes were locked directly on mine. After about ten seconds, I ran. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Shower Club, Chapter 2 The Plot Thickens (f f mast voy) ----------------------------------------------------------------- After I got back to my room I lay awake in the dark for over an hour, trying to figure out what had just happened. I had experienced the most intense orgasm of my young life, and I couldn't kid myself and pretend that the fact that Tyler Renfro had been watching wasn't responsible. It had been such an incredible rush, watching her watching me, seeing her react as I came, the feelings cascading in some kind of orgasmic feedback loop until I'd been lucky not to fall in a heap to the ground. And looking at Tyler's body, watching her pleasure herself, had definitely caused something to twitch inside of me that I hadn't really felt before. I was pretty sure I'd been in love with my last boyfriend, and I definitely got turned on by sex with boys, but maybe I was into girls, too. I was a little weirded out, sure, but it wasn't like I'd really DONE anything with her. Maybe all this would have blown over, and drifted out of me, by the next morning. But what would she do? And who would she tell? I worried it over in my head for a while longer, until I couldn't help but drift off from sheer exhaustion sometime around four a.m. ************************************************* When my alarm woke me up the next morning, my roommate still wasn't home, and after getting dressed I headed off to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I decided to play it safe, and went to the bathroom upstairs instead of the one downstairs, and didn't see anyone at all along the way, let alone Tyler. When I got back to my room, I noticed that someone had written something down in the bottom corner of my message board. It just said "2 am - TR." I quickly rubbed out the tiny message, and looked up and down the hall, to see if anyone else might have seen it. I couldn't remember if I had noticed it there on my way up to the bathroom, so she could have put it there anytime. Shit. What did she want? Was she going to blackmail me? She was rich, for god's sake, what could she possibly want from me? Shit. Shit. Shit. Or maybe she just wanted to talk. As I wandered through my classes in a daze, turning in the previous night's masterpiece and sitting through several tedious lectures, I tried to come up with all the possibilities that I could. First, Tyler wanted to blackmail me. Possible, but hard to figure out what for. Second, Tyler wanted to apologize, put it behind us. Also possible, and probably the best of all possible outcomes, for that matter. Third, Tyler wanted to set me up for some kind of prank or embarrassment. The more I thought about it, the more I started to think that this was the most possible explanation, and as the day wore on, I started feeling more and more nervous. But there was another, fourth possibility. Maybe Tyler wanted to do it again. I stumbled through the usual dining hall visit to the salad bar, and a couple of lackluster hours in the library, and then went to back to my room and got into bed around nine. My roommate was over at her true love's abode once again, so I had the place to myself. I set the alarm for 1:45. ****************************************************** The beeping woke me up from a dream where Tyler Renfro and I had been involved in an elaborate duel like something out of a poorly-dubbed martial arts movie, complete with stunning spinning kicks and jumping that suspiciously resembled flight. It was pitch black in the room, other than the glowing numbers on my clock and the tiny lights on our computer monitors, and for a split second I couldn't remember why in the world I'd set the alarm for such a ridiculous time. And then it came back to me, all four possibilities, with the residue from the dream jumbled in, and sat for a moment with my head in my hands and wondered what the hell I was getting myself into. Tyler hadn't said anything to me all day, and I told myself that if I had the sense just to stay in my room, this probably would be over right then and there. But I didn't have the sense. And I couldn't just stay in my room, I had to know what she wanted. So I got up changed into my robe, made sure I didn't look hideous, took a deep breath, and headed down to the bathroom. When I got there, I heard a shower running. Actually, once I got into the room it sounded like they were all running. And they must have been running hot, because the steam was so thick it was actually billowing out of the shower area and into the area where the stalls and sinks were, and all the mirrors were fogged up. I set all my stuff on the counter above the sinks, draped my towel over two sinks that looked dry, and slowly made my way through the doorway between the two areas. I quietly called out, "Hello? Hello?" but didn't hear any reply. The nearest stall had its curtain wide open, and was empty, although the shower was on full blast. I reached in and turned it off, trying not to get the sleeve of my robe too wet. The next one was the same, so I turned it off, and so was the third, and the fourth. After I turned off the fourth shower, I paused. The fifth stall's curtain was half closed, with the opening at the far side, and I realized that the sound of the water falling in that stall was different than it had been in the others, more irregular somehow. There was someone in there. Slowly, trying to keep from shaking, I walked forward until I could see through the gap. Tyler stood there, just as she had the night before, gloriously naked and stroking herself in the front and from behind. She smiled when she saw me. I half-tripped backwards, and caught myself against the cool tile wall. But my eyes kept contact with Tyler's, and as I returned her gaze her smile just got bigger and bigger. "Come in," she said. Possibility four, I realized, in a moment of strange clarity, and I stepped forward without even a moment of thought for what my response "should" be. I shivered a little, despite the steam that was piling up and rolling out from the shower stall, and hugged my arms closer to my body, closing my robe even further. My eyes drifted down from Tyler's face to her breasts, and then further down to see her middle finger twitching with a consistent, staccato rhythm on her clit. For the second time I noticed that she was definitely a real redhead, with pubic hair the same dark, rich auburn of the hair on her head. I stared hard for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only twenty or thirty seconds, and then she spoke again. "Don't you want to?" she said. "C'mon, take off the robe, then you can have that corner and I'll take this one." She gestured towards the corner she was facing, then the one behind her. I didn't trust myself to speak, but I felt myself slowly nodding. I turned around and opened my robe, and after a brief hesitation, I quickly shrugged it off and hung it on the hook just inside the curtain. I paused again, bit my lip, and slowly turned around. Tyler had moved over to her corner, and was smiling encouragingly as I shuffled over to my designated spot. "I . . . I don't know what to do," I stammered out. My arms and hands kept making half-hearted, hesitant motions toward covering up my breasts and between my legs, and I could feel myself blushing all the way down my face and neck, until I could see the redness reaching down almost to my breasts. "I've never . . . I mean, I haven't been . . . I mean . . . I . . ." "Shhhh," she whispered. "Don't get all flustered. This is completely natural. Just do what you always do. Last night wasn't the first time you' ve ever touched yourself, I could tell that as soon as I peeked around the curtain, so try not to get too tense, and just let your fingers do the walkin'." My nipples were already hard as rocks, so tight and sensitive that they almost hurt, and they sent flashes of sensation rushing through me as I brushed my slightly quivering fingers across them hesitantly. My right hand crept down my stomach, inch by inch, until the tip of my middle finger was nestled just between my lips, curling inwards, ever so slightly. I continued to stare straight at Tyler, throwing glances at her hands as they moved from breasts to ass to crotch, and all the while trying to keep myself from grabbing my robe and running away. Suddenly something snapped, and the lust hit me like a wave, and my hand thrust in and down as I plunged one finger deep inside me. I slipped another one in, and started sliding them quickly in and out, while doing my best to work my clit with my thumb at the same time. The rush was immediate and intense, and I could feel the first orgasm blossoming within seconds. I pressed my chin into my chest, and my shoulders back against the slick tiles, and felt the muscles in my ass and thighs clench and relax and clench and relax in a series of rapid, electric twitches. "Mmmmmmmm. That was nice." I looked up at Tyler. She was still caressing herself slowly, and if possible her smile had gotten even bigger. I slid my fingers out, and started a slow, circular rhythm on my nubbin. My breathing returned to normal, more or less, but I still didn't, or couldn't, speak. "We are never so free as when we are having a good wank," Tyler suddely declaimed, in a voice that sounded nearly loud enough to be heard out in the hallway. "The power and pleasure of sexual release, the freedom of solitude, the empowerment of individual initiative. We are doing something incredibly nice for ourselves. Something that doesn't cost any money. Something that can be done almost anywhere. Something that doesn't add any calories. Something that doesn't hurt anyone else. Something that doesn't require any equipment (although it can be used if desired). What could be better than this? How could you not love it?" Clearly she had thought about this a lot. I sort of shrugged, and smiled weakly, but I still couldn't think of anything to say. My left hand took the right's place between my thighs, and with my right hand I started tweaking and pulling my nipples. "A good wank is a gift from the gods. It's a gift from yourself. It's just a gift . . . and it can be even more intense when it's a gift for someone else. If you think about how incredible, how free, how empowering a good wank can be, think of what you could do if you amplified that power by combining it with someone else's. The synergy would be - the synergy IS . . .. simply . . . incredible." As she spoke, her fingers rubbed with increasing speed and intensity at her clit, and as she finished speaking a series of low, mewing moans escaped her lips. "Oh . . .oh . . . oo . . . ow .. . . ew . . .mmmmm." She bit her lip, and started blinking quickly while trying to open her eyes as wide as possible. Red blotches started to appear all over her neck and chest, and her shoulders shook as the orgasm raged through her. Finally she shuddered to stop, and sank back against the wall, continuing to stare at me through lowered lashes. The power of her orgasm had triggered a second one in me, and it washed over me in a way that was somehow far more intense and yet far smoother and less jarring at the same time, like an exultant shout by my entire body. It was all I could do to keep from yelling out, "Yes! Yes! Yes!" like I was Meg Ryan in "When Harry Met Sally," but I settled for a number of low, quiet grunts and groans that may not have sounded very ladylike, but definitely accurately expressed how I was feeling at the time. Tyler had already finished coming by the time I had really started, and when I finally reached the end of the ride she grinned at me and mimed applauding. "Wow." Real articulate, I know, but it was all I could think to say. "Yeah," she said, "Pretty amazing, isn't it?" I started, slightly. "You've done this before?" "Why Elizabeth . . . that's sort of a personal question, don't you think?" "But we just . . . I mean didn't we . . . um . . . but . . ." "Oh, I see," Tyler said knowingly. "You're into girls." "But . . . but . . .," I sputtered, "Wasn't that just . . . just . . . I mean, what we just did? What was that?" "Well that's an interesting fact to know about you, Elizabeth. Interesting indeed. I think that since you seem to be one up on me right now, we should probably take advantage it," Tyler said. "On your knees. Now. Get to it." ----------------------------------------------------------------- Shower Club, Chapter 3 Crossing the Line (ff oral exhib femdom) ----------------------------------------------------------------- "What!??!" I yelped. "Lick me. Now." Suddenly there was a steel to Tyler's voice that hadn't been there before. It wasn't like it scared me precisely, it wasn't anything creepy like that. It was just a voice that was so certain, so utterly in control, that it felt like a force of nature somehow. It would not be denied. Before I really realized what I was doing, I was on my knees in front of her, my head half turned to keep the water from the still-running shower from hitting me right in the face. I hesitated, and I felt her hands touch my hair, then drift lightly down to my shoulders, where she ran them back and forth in slow, gentle swirls. The tingling where her fingertips brushed my skin was like an electric prickling cascading down my body, bringing every part of me to attention almost like I was one giant erect nipple, or an enormous clit, engorged and sensitized and crying out to be stroked. What was I doing? Even when I had thought about possibility four, the chance that Tyler might have wanted to somehow continue what had started the night before, I had only let myself consider the possibility of the type of mutual voyeurism that we'd started with. Actually doing it in the same shower stall had been a big step, and somehow I'd been blocking out the thought about things going further. I turned my head, and looked through the falling droplets at the small triangle of her pubic hair, the soft notch of her lips underneath, and her already erect clit poking out between the two. I'd never been this close to anyone's pussy before, even my own, and I stared at it in fascination, at the water beading on the hair, at the subtle shadings of pale pink on the exposed flesh. What in the world was I doing. Tyler spoke. "C'mon, Liz. Get to work." I blinked the water out of my eyes, glanced up at her face looking down at me, licked my lips nervously with the tip of my tongue, and started to lean forward. I'd certainly never had my face between another girl's legs before, but I'd had my own pussy ineptly eaten by two of my last three boyfriends, so I thought I had a pretty good idea of what was involved, and what not to do. As my face got closer and closer to Tyler body, I slowly closed my eyes and pursed my lips for a kiss. I started by planting dozens of delicate, moist kisses all over her lips, pubic area, and upper thighs. I kept my lips pursed tightly together, and as I got closer and closer to her clit I felt her shift against the wall, trying to open her legs further. I tentatively stuck my tongue out just a short ways, and lightly licked up the line where her thigh met her crotch, first on the right, then on the left, then stuck it out a little further and licked long and slow directly on her slit. I finished with my tongue positioned directly on her clit, and flicked it few times, quickly before pulling back. I held my face a few inches from her, and lightly blew air directly at her clit. I heard her breath catch, and her right hand clutched tightly at my left shoulder. I leaned forward again, and the only way that I can describe it is that I basically began deeply french kissing her pussy. I was using my lips and my tongue as much as possible, roaming all around her pelvic area, first rapidly flicking her clit then sucking it in hard while my tongue swirled around it. I slowly and deliberately stroked my right hand up her right leg, starting at the ankle, and when it reached the top of her thigh I swiftly jammed two fingers up inside her, gently nipping her clit with my teeth at the same time. That time she actually yelped, just a bit, and I smiled with my face pressed into her red curls. I continued to kiss and tongue and suck her clit, occasionally pulling out the fingers inside her to brush them along between her slit and her asshole when I switched to light kisses in the area of her bush. I kept this up for five, maybe ten minutes, and other than the noise of the shower, the rasp of Tyler's breathing, and the soft, wet sounds my lips and tongue were making against her flesh, there wasn't a sound. Suddenly Tyler's voice rang out, not exactly shouting but far from a whisper. "Oh, that's good. That's really good. I think you might have done this before, you little slut. You didn't come back because you wanted to share a wank, did you, or to beg me not to tell anyone? You came tonight because you wanted me. You wanted me so bad that you were willing to risk humiliation or blackmail to have me. That's okay, I don't mind. In fact, I 'd say I'm definitely enjoying it." Suddenly she drew a deep, long, shuddering breath. "In . . . fact . . . it's . . . quite . . . amazing . . .. " She trailed off as the orgasm hit her, and it must have hit hard, because she actually slid down the wall behind her, her legs shaking dramatically, eyes tightly closed, until she was seated on the shower floor facing me. She opened her eyes and looked at me, appraisingly. I slowly leaned towards her, lips slightly parted, keeping my eyes on hers. "You want to kiss me, Liz?" she asked, quietly. I nodded. "Then ask." I managed to squeak out, "May I kiss you?" in a barely audible voice, and she paused, slowly and deliberately, staring at me squarely. "Of course," she said, smiling, and as I closed to press my lips to hers, I felt my nipples brush hers as our breasts came together. We kissed for what seemed like a long time, exploring one another's mouths and teeth and lips and cheeks and ears and eyelids with our mouths and tongues. I nestled in between her thighs, and rested my head on her shoulder, slowly stroking my fingers up and down her other arm, occasionally moving in to tentatively explore those magnificent breasts. Tyler pressed her lips against the top of my head, and hugged me close to her as the water, no longer hot but still reasonably warm, continued to wash over us. We probably only sat there like that for a few minutes, but it was incredibly comfortable and strangely timeless, and seemed to stretch on for hours. And then we heard the door. "Oh shit!" I whispered frantically, every muscle in my body suddenly tensing up as I prepared to jump up and run. "Shhhhh. Just wait a sec," Tyler breathed. We listened together, and heard the sounds of a stall door slamming shut, and locking. Tyler stood up, and pulled me up with her. She put her hands on either side of my face, and looked deeply into my eyes. "I want her to see you," she said, quickly and intensely. "I want you to go out there, right now, into the other side of the bathroom, and be standing naked in front of one of the sinks brushing your hair when she comes out of the stall. You can pretend to have been startled by the flush, if you want, but you have to make sure she gets to see ALL of you, front and back before you cover yourself or duck back in here to get your robe. Now go." There it was again, that steel in her voice. This time I summoned enough resistance to stutter out a quick, "But . . .," although I didn't really resist when she put her hands on my shoulders, spun me around, and pushed me out through the half-open curtain. She gave me little slap on the rear as she pushed me along, and behind me I heard the water slow to a trickle and turn off, then after a few seconds turn back on again. Even though I was so nervous that my entire body was prickling with goose pimples, I hurried out to make sure that I was in place when the other girl came out of the stall. I grabbed my brush from where I'd left it on the shelf, and positioned myself right in front of the only stall door that was closed, trying to use the mirror to watch from the corner of my eye without being totally obvious about it. It turned out that I didn't have the chance to pretend I was startled by the flush, because the girl must have been from one of those water-scarce areas where people are trained not to flush "unless necessary," if you know what I mean. I guess this night it wasn't, because before I had a chance to really mentally prepare myself for it, she opened the door and walked right out for a dead-on view of my naked butt. It was a sophomore named Kate, a cute, short Asian girl from California who I had spoken to a few times and who was in one of the singing groups I had tried out for. I hadn't thought it would be someone that I actually knew, but then again I hadn't really thought about it at all! I could tell from her expression in the mirror that she was startled to see me there in my birthday suit, because even though you occasionally get a glimpse of another girl's body in the bathroom, it's usually just a quick glance in the shower area. I quickly spun around, careful not to let my natural instincts take over and cover myself. "Oh, Kate, I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone else was in here, and I just got out of the shower." My fingers were almost twitching, I was so eager to bring an arm up over my breasts, to cover my crotch with my other hand . . . but I resisted. "My bad, let me grab my towel." "Oh my, Elizabeth - I mean, Liz. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I mean . . She kept darting her eyes to the right and left, trying not to look like she was looking at my body but totally unable to stop from looking at it all the same. I felt a new and strange sort of power in my nakedness, and enjoyed it for a few seconds. "Anyway, just . . .um, sorry." For a moment, neither of us moved. Somehow I was now totally calm, and I leisurely reached out and grabbed my towel off of the adjacent sinks, shook it out a few times, then carefully wrapped it around myself. I grinned ruefully at Kate, shrugged my shoulders, and turned around to pretend to work on my hair. Kate stammered out another apology, quickly moved to a sink, washed her hands, and then took off out the door without another word. After a few seconds, Tyler came walking out of the shower area with my robe in her hand, which she handed to me with a smile. "Mission accomplished?" she asked. "Without a hitch!" I exulted. "What a rush! God, who knew that I was such an exhibitionist! I felt so in control for those ten seconds she couldn't help but look at my body. I might have been imagining it, but I think she might have even been a little turned on." "Oh really?" Tyler said. "How good a view did she get of your butt?" "I don't know, maybe a second or two, before I turned around, but I gave her a lot more of the front," I said eagerly. "Sure," Tyler replied, "But it's the rear view that's especially tasty right now. Look." I dropped the robe, then unfastened my towel and let it fall to the ground, while I turned my back to the mirror and twisted to look over my shoulder. Right there, in the middle of my right cheek, was a red mark that was obviously fingers and the top of a hand, from when Tyler had given me swat as she urged me out of the shower. At the time I hadn't really thought that she'd hit me anywhere near hard enough to leave a mark, so the thought hadn' t even crossed my mind, but I later learned the same trick, and it's all a matter of precise timing and placement. "Oh my god," I exclaimed. "That's why she seemed more flustered than I expected. She must have seen it. Oh, no! It was this girl Kate, who I actually know, oh my god, what's she going to think?" "I wouldn't worry about it." "YOU wouldn't worry about it?! Of course not, she didn't see you with a handprint on your ass! How embarrassing!? She'll think I'm such a slut. She'll tell everybody! Oh no, what if she tells everybody I was with another girl? What'll I do?" "Okay, calm down. Just relax. First of all, you don't know if she'll say anything or not. If she was little turned on, like you thought, she won't be able to talk about it without getting embarrassed herself, which would then make people ask questions about her. In fact, I'm pretty confident she won't say anything to anyone. Second, how bad could it really be? Let's face it, after what we just did I'd say that you are kind of a slut, I mean, just did a whole of stuff together and we don't even really know each other. Being a slut isn't necessarily a bad thing, it's just a word men use to belittle sexually assertive and impulsive women. Anyone that licks bush on command has to meet that definition." "And don't forget, we're in college now. If someone whispers around that you were spanked in the bathroom, the boys will all become interested in you, and of the girls will start to wonder just who it was that in there with you, since they know you're not dating anyone. You'll totally be the center of attention. More than a few of the girls will be a little intrigued by the possibility that it was another girl with you, and ALL of boys would find that particular scenario irresistible, so you can't get hung up about the lesbian/bisexual thing. Let's face it, you're not about to turn into some indiscriminate campus fucktoy because of this, so you get all the intrigue and exotic appeal, with none of the corroborating evidence necessary to really trash your reputation, whatever that means." "Hell, if I were you I'd almost wish she did tell. I'd think about going to her and encouraging her to tell. I'd even BEG her to tell!" I laughed. "Okay, okay, I get your point. It's not the end of the world. I think you were right about her not telling, though, she was definitely more agitated than if she had just acquired some good gossip." "Oh well, too bad. Don't worry about Kate for now, I'm going to be taking up a lot of your evening and late night hours for a while. I think we need to spend a little time exploring this little partnership we've created here. I 've never met a little slut that took to showing off so quickly." Again I wondered exactly how much Tyler had done this sort of thing before, and started to feel just a bit nervous about what she might be talking about. She stepped in close to me, still totally and beautifully nude, and took me in her arms, and kissed me. I kissed her back, and let my questions and my resistance slowly slip away. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Shower Club, Chapter 4 Explorations (ff mast voy exhib oral outdoor/public) ----------------------------------------------------------------- Over the next week or so, Tyler and I started to test the limits of our new relationship. Or Tyler did, I guess, since she always made the first move. We still barely acknowledged each other during the daytime, but at night we kept trying new and different ways to please each other, and increase the risk factor and the rush at the same time. This tended to take the form of having a wank in some new and marginally public place, or trying to touch one another or kiss in public without being seen except by old men or young teenage boys, or some equally silly, exciting, thrill-inducing acts of exhibitionism. To be honest, it was usually me taking all the biggest risks, except for those relatively chaste kisses in the park and the grocery store. Tyler would tell me what to do, and I would do it, I just couldn't say no to her. First she had me play with myself in a bathroom stall in the student center, while she sat in the stall next to me. When someone came in, I had to continue stroking myself without making any noise. Since it's probably the busiest restroom on campus, there must have been two dozen people that walked into the bathroom during that session, and each one caused another quick rush and silent acceleration of my fingers. I think that one of the people heard me, when I finally came, but luckily she left the bathroom before I left the stall. When I walked out of the door I wondered if she, whoever she was, was watching to see who I was, but I didn't see anyone staring or obviously keeping an eye out. Next Tyler took me to a romantic movie, where we sat in the back and she made me take off my panties from under my skirt and touch myself during the frequent love scenes. Once or twice she leaned over to add her touch to mine, and she let me see her licking my juices off her fingers after she'd slipped them up inside me. I thought one of the ushers might have seen me at one point, but I wasn't sure and I didn't see him on the way out. Tyler kept my panties after I was done, and made me walk all the way home without them, which was pretty risky given the shortness of my skirt. The whole way home I could feel the cool air on my exposed pussy and ass, and was incredibly conscious of the fact that just about anyone could conceivably get a good view of me if I moved wrong, or bent over, or even just climbed a few stairs. I almost had another orgasm without even touching myself by the time I got home. One night, we took a blanket and climbed up on to the roof of one the academic buildings at like 3 in the morning, where we both stripped completely naked under the moonlight. It was a nearly full moon, and a warm night for that time of year, and we stood staring at each other in the silver light as we stroked ourselves off to one orgasm, then used our hands and mouths to give one another a few more each. Despite Tyler's confusing remarks about me being the one that "liked girls" she definitely wasn't averse to doing a little pussy-licking herself every now and then, it seemed. There was a day that we took a bus two towns over to visit a shopping mall, where we spent hours trying on clothes in store after store. In each dressing room, we would go into the stall together, strip totally naked, and just stand there for a minute talking before we put our underwear back on and tried on whatever we'd brought in with us. Because we thought there might be security watching (hell, we were hoping that security was watching) we were careful not to do anything that would get us kicked out, but through light touches, laughs, playful kisses and longing looks made it obvious to all of the guards behind the mirrors and cameras, and more importantly all of the women working in the stores, and for that manner to many of the customers, that we were totally into each other. Not all women are intrigued by the idea of lesbianism, to be sure, but a lot are, and when it' s two good looking teenagers putting on a show there was definitely a lot of interest. There were more than a few that looked at us hungrily as we left each store, and by the sixth dressing room I was sure that one women had been following us for the last three stores. At that last stop on our itinerary, we tried to go a little further. Each outfit that Tyler tried on, she would walk out of the dressing room to check in the wraparound mirror, being careful to open the door wide each time to reveal me standing there totally nude, apparently oblivious to the exposure. One time I was pulling on a pair of panties, another I had my back to the door, fixing my hair in the mirror. We were careful to make it look lazy and overly casual, rather than deliberate, but by the time we fled that store, and the mall, in hysterics, at least three salespeople and a half-dozen customers, including our stalker, had gotten one hell of a good look at me. When we got off the bus back at the edge of campus, I looked up at the window as it drove on and thought that I saw the face of the stalker, but she was wearing a hat and I just couldn't be sure if it was her. Another night, Tyler and I didn't actually hang out, but instead she gave me an assignment that I had to follow without her. I had to play with myself until I came in my own bed, on a night that my roommate and her boyfriend were there sleeping. I sometimes let them sleep in the room together, but made it a condition that they didn't fuck when I was there, so it was sort of ironic that I'd be getting off with the two of them in the other bed. When I got near the end of my wank, and couldn't stop my breath from catching just a little, I thought that I might have heard a sound from The Boyfriend, and wondered if he might have been awake and figured out what I was doing. The thought just turned me on even more, and I came in an intense, though thankfully silent, rush. Whatever Tyler told me to do, I did, and it felt so natural and right, that I didn't even question how thoroughly she was dominating me. We were both getting off so much, and so intensely, and I was having so much fun exploring this new side of my sexuality that it didn't seem at all exploitative, or even that strange. When I thought about it, which I did constantly, all day every day, I was conscious that we were playing a pretty clear game of dominance and submission game, but it was never painful or humiliating. Almost two weeks later, on the Monday thirteen days after that first, brief encounter, we were hanging out in my room watching garbage on television, when out of the blue, she asked me, "So did you go talk to her?" I was totally baffled. "What? Talk to who?" "You know, to Kate. To find out if she saw. To find out if she told anybody. And to find out if she was turned on." "What!!? You're kidding, right? I mean, I . . .I . . .but . . . why the hell would I have done that? What if she didn't see? What if she didn't tell anybody? And most importantly, what if she WASN'T turned on? It would be awful, I'd never be able to face her again." "Oh come on, don't get so dramatic. It wouldn't be that hard. You could figure out some pretext to talk to her, didn't you try out for that singing group she's in? Ask her what you did wrong in the audition, what you can do to improve. Performers love that kind of thing, they get to sound like an expert and "share their wisdom about the craft" and all that shit. Then you can sort of make a joking reference to the other night, see how she reacts, and proceed from there. You won't be hanging yourself out to dry, or doing anything foolish. It'll be easy. You can do it." "I don't know, Tyler, I just don't think it's such a great idea." "You can do it. And you will do it. Believe me." The steel. I ducked my head, then nodded quickly. "Okay. Of course. I'll do it. I'll try to find her alone in the cafeteria, or in the college library in next few days. I think I see her studying there pretty often." "I don't think so. If you don't do it now, you'll lose your nerve. Yes, I' m positive that you should do it right away, before you can convince yourself again that it's a bad idea." "But I don't know where she is," I pleaded, weakly. "Her room is in the next entryway over. Basement floor, right at the bottom of the stairs. Room 014. It's 10:30 on a Monday night, I think she'll be there. Now GO." -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+