Message-ID: <27797asstr$976389003@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "omnivore" <omnivore@mad.scientist.com>
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
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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.
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