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Water trickles down the drain, invisibly laden with a young woman’s sweat. Steam curls around the edges of a curtain touched with the first dots of mildew. Beads collect on a mirror. There are showers meant for cleansing, and showers meant for privacy; the nubile creature occupying this jungly bathroom is currently engrossed in one of the latter.

She’s braced against the porcelain wall across from the showerhead, propped on one drying arm while the other does things down below. Her neck is bent, her shoulders taut as they can visibly be beneath the soft padding that sheaths her figure in mostly the right places. The arcing water strikes her smooth thighs, perpetually rinsing them with a gentle tingle that is all but lost to her now–for look at her rapt face, her open mouth, her flushed chest. Look at her hand, which alternates between slithering runs through her genital folds, and quick trips behind her curved rear to adjust the plastic thing, the thing you’d notice first or maybe second if you were actually here, that’s stuck up into her ass.

Her name is Sherry (for Sharon), and she has this occasional habit. Nice girls where she grew up don’t ever talk about such things, but one need not talk much or think much, it turns out, to smear on the requisite hand lotion and spread one’s legs and just poke and play a little, just for a minute or two. Any moment now Sherry will (she figures) pull it out and wash it off and brush her hair with it like she’d intended, but of course a butt-reaming session has its own momentum and now she’s pretty goddamned hot to go on toying with her clit while her stretched anus periodically throbs around the glossy, ergonomically molded (but not for this exactly) handle that’s got it so deliciously wedged open. casino siteleri Images of maybe doing this with a guy–she’s almost got the nerve, now that she’s been broken in by her first several months at college–float half-formed in her libidinous brain, clothing the same old skeletons of fantasy that coalesced that first time, several years ago, when a curious impulse in a secluded shower led brush to meet butt. Not that she’s keeping track.

But nevermind those wisps of scenery, those candles and bedsheets and strong arms encircling her (perhaps incongruous given that it’s seven AM), because there is a whole real world here and in it, somebody is using up the hot water that several others will sorely miss, though her glistening cunt drips enough fluid of its own to well make up the deficit in the minds of some lusty judges, somewhere. But sadly Sherry’s apartment-mates are not among these (except possibly the one who’s been secretly realizing she’s a lesbian, and wouldn’t you like to hear about that!), least of all the groggy nymph that’s about to knock loudly on the bathroom door, just as quivering Sherry begins to grind her way through a slow, hard orgasm. So for one last moment only the brush-head bobs, the buttocks tremble, the nostrils whine out pleasure, and there is peace.

Then, wham! Wham! Wham! And “Sherry, finish your fucking shower!” But the girl, Lindsay, she doesn’t wait, and the door slams open to find Sherry slipping to face the door, just barely avoiding a dangerous fall, in an effort to bring the phallic hairbrush out of view… of a girl who can’t see her anyway, through the shower curtain. “God, it’s like a jungle in here. Are you playing with yourself or what?” demands Lindsay conversationally as she knocks around in the slot oyna medicine cabinet, looking for her contact solution probably.

“I’ll be done in a minute,” replies Sherry, her voice a little more high-pitched than usual. She stands stiffly for a few moments until she’s sure the other girl has left, clenching her butt tightly to keep its passenger from easing free and clattering on the tub floor. She shifts her weight so as to face the showerhead for one final rinse-off, and the brush brushes (so to speak) the wall behind her, tweaking the sensitive muscle that grips it, making her heart skip a beat. It feels so nice to have that thing in there, pressing on her insides… she reaches back to pull it out, but instead (just for fun) gives it a little twist, exhaling her ticklish pleasure through the streams that now web her pretty face. So nice indeed. She tugs the brush a half-centimeter, sighing as the wide part of its shaft insistently unburies itself from her rear. A lone needle of water pricks her left nipple, and she pauses just there. The erectile flesh hardens, and the brush–now mostly free of lube, but still smooth enough to serve its purpose–begins to wiggle and hitch under Sherry’s careful control, sending her back into that horny trance, sending her clit out from its hood again.

The water is now noticeably starting to cool, but surely there is time for a quickie. Sherry touches her little pleasure-nub, grunting at its sensitivity; then her prudence awakens and she peeks around the curtain to make truly sure that nobody is listening. But there on the sink she sees Lisa’s hairbrush, with its own smooth, glossy handle, and inspiration strikes amidst a flood of happy adrenaline. In a quick motion she snatches the brush and pulls it back canlı casino siteleri behind the curtain, where it is instantly inserted between trembling thighs. One-handed, Sherry guides her new toy up and down her slit, panting and perspiring anew. There, it’s gotten caught against her hole, and she pushes, and groans as it begins to enter her. But it’s the wrong shape, a sort of exaggerated, rounded rectangle, and it really isn’t going any further without some serious lubrication and patience. Something, dishes it sounds like, clanks from the kitchen, and Sherry knows she must hurry. So rewinding, she merely lays the length of Lisa’s brush down her crotch and humps it, twisting and tilting the other in her ass at the same time. Her nipples bob atop their generous mounds as she begins to wantonly fuck the air.

“Oh, oh, oh,” she puffs, no longer self-conscious. The plastic in her crotch chafes a little, but its flat slide over her clit is too arousing for that to matter. Soon she is spasming again, cumming even harder than the first time, seeing stars behind her water-pounded eyelids. Her thighs clamp tight, holding two obliging plastic rods just where they are needed, rigid and steady against delicate nerves until the spasms finally slow.

Then the bathroom floor creaks, and Sherry knows she is not alone. She stands quietly, hotly, wondering in post-orgasmic relaxation whether the unknown party at the sink has heard her moans. She thinks, as she awaits capture or relief, that it’s time to maybe learn how to buy a dildo. Or get a boyfriend who is a little kinky (her heart flutters as she realizes, somehow for the first time, that fantasies can be made real). She hears something else, just ordinary toiletry sounds, and she knows she is free to end her shower without embarrassment.

She cleans up briskly, with a generous helping of soap, and shuts off the water. As she’s reaching out the curtain for a towel, her companion speaks: “Sherry, have you seen my brush?”

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