The Stranger in the Shower

This story is based on a real event. All characters are at least 21 years old.

It had been a long day. After staying in the library until it closed at midnight, a friend and I had driven over the county line to a truckstop diner for biscuits and gravy. I was hungry, he wanted to get off campus for a while, and the diner served cheap food. Besides, he was hot. I loved sitting beside him in the front seat, talking to his beautiful profile as he stared at the road ahead.

Unfortunately, he was super-straight, so all the trip did was give me a full stomach, a boner, and a case of blue balls. We didn't get back to campus until about 2:30 a.m., and by the time I climbed the dorm stairs to my room all the other guys who lived on the hall had their doors closed and locked and the long corridor was empty. No more socializing tonight. Ah well - I had to be up in time for an 8 a.m. class anyway.

And that's when the lightbulb in my head turned on. I was lousy at getting up for early classes, and I was so tired now that there was no way I'd get up early the next morning. That meant I wouldn't be able to catch a shower then -- so my only option was to take a quick one right now.

As soon as I got into my room, I sloughed off my clothes. The shoes got tossed in the corner, the shirt and pants were thrown over the back of my one chair, and my white briefs were dumped at the bottom of my closet. Grabbing a towel to wrap around my waist, I headed down to the communal washroom. Located on the right side at the center of the long hallway, it was built to accommodate all 34 of the single rooms in the wing. The brown metal door swung inward to face a dividing wall: toilets, hand basins, and mirrors to the right, more basins and mirrors and the huge communal shower to the left. To my mild surprise, I realized that the shower was already on and running when I got there. Given the hour, I figured I'd have total privacy for once. Who could be around at three in the morning?

I draped my towel over one of the hooks outside the archway leading into the shower room, and stepped inside. Even though a shower was on, it didn't provide any real coverage for the one guy in there. He was using a showerhead near the entry, and all of the steam he was creating was quickly swallowed up by the large room, or was simply floating out of the archway into the larger bathroom. I quickly assessed him out of the side of my eye as I walked past him to claim a spot for myself.

He was blonde. A mop of curly hair, and a slender body. His waist was even smaller than my 29 inches, but his legs looked muscled and strong, and his torso was tight and lithe. Maybe a swimmer? Or a gymnast? Virtually no hair on his body, except of course for the hair on his head. I'd never seen him on campus before, which seemed really odd to me. It wasn't that big a college, and I thought that I knew (at least by sight) virtually everybody there. Who was this guy?

It was especially strange because this was a dorm restricted to seniors and graduate students. How could somebody this cute have been on campus this long without my noticing him before? I couldn't work it out. What was a stranger, a guy who clearly didn't live on this floor, doing in OUR shower? Especially at 3 a.m.? Very weird.

I sat my soap bar and shampoo bottle down, then twisted the "hot" and "cold" knobs for the showerhead I'd chosen (same side of the room as the blond, with only one "empty" nozzle between them) and played with them till I found the temperature I wanted -- hot, but not burning. As I did, I kept doing side-glances at the other guy. He was facing the wall, standing just a little too far away from the running water -- it was hitting his body just below his chest and running down over his crotch and legs. And he wasn't moving. Wasn't using any soap, wasn't turning, wasn't

washing

. In fact, I realized, his hair wasn't even wet. He was just -- standing there. Posing.

I picked up my bar of Ivory and thought for a few seconds, then turned my body away from him to soap up my right shoulder. I couldn't see him for a bit as I washed my right arm and pit, then I turned to the other side to work on my left arm. The guy had stepped back a bit. The water was hitting somewhere around his knees now. And that's when I saw it. His dick. He wasn't moving, but his dick was. It was... rising. It already stood at half-mast, and was filling with blood even as I glanced at it. His eyes were locked on the wall in front of him -- but his soap-free hands were stroking his thighs, and his dick was getting stiffer and fatter every second.

I didn't want to get caught staring. But he was doing nothing to hide himself. He wasn't even looking at me. He hadn't acknowledged my presence in any way since I'd come in. He was just standing there, staring at the wall, a hard dick between his legs and his hands stroking his thighs.

No. Not his thighs anymore. His ass. His hands were on his ass and he was pushing his crotch forward. His mouth was slightly open and his eyes were wide and staring.

And I was getting hard. I looked down at myself as my cock thickened and lengthened. Soap was running down my chest and foaming around my prick and balls. I didn't move. We both just stared at the wall in front of us, standing side by side, our college dicks pointing to the sky.

He finally turned toward me -- and in response, I turned to face him head-on. We locked onto each other, staring directly into each other's eyes. We spoke to each other without ever moving our mouths. Our bodies were wet and slippery, my hands were soapy, and I wanted him.

Without a word, he turned his back to me, put his hands on his knees, and bent forward. The cheeks of his ass separated, and I stared at the pink hole in the middle of his crack. As I looked, he grabbed his own ass cheeks to pull them wide.

I pushed my bar of soap up between his legs and worked on him. The soap rode up and down his crack, sudsing it up. I pushed the tip of one finger up against the lips of his hole, and pressed the wet soapy digit inside the entrance to his body. Once it was all the way in, I began to stretch him open. He helped me by rotating his ass clockwise while I pressed a second finger into his chute.

There was a low hum coming out of his mouth. I could just barely hear it above the spouting water. It sounded like the machine of his body had been turned on and the gears of the engine were starting to engage. He pushed his ass back against my hand as twisted his torso and braced himself against the tiled wall. His breath was coming faster every second, and his head was thrown back. The water was hitting it now, plastering his blond curls to his face and the sides of his head. And finally he spoke.

"Do me. Do me. Do me now. Come on, put your dick in me. Fuck me. Fuck me with a dick. Put a big cock in me. I'm a Hole. Put a cock in the Hole. Shove it in. Dick me. Oh yes sir, do me. I want it so bad. I need it. I feel empty. So empty. And I'm tight. I'm so tight. Open me up. Fuck me. Plow me, sir, plow my starving ass. Oh do me, do me now, PLUG IT IN!!!"

By now I was holding him from behind and the snout of my cock was twitching and drooling. A heat-seeking missile that needed to be planted in flesh. The glans ran over the puckered lips of the Hole and I gleefully stabbed into him. One long hard merciless push. I wanted to make him cry out. I wanted to give it to him the way he wanted it -- I wanted it to hurt.

And I did. He cried out as he pushed his ass back hard against me, the water from the showerhead hitting his open mouth and running down his chin, his body slippery as an eel's as I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him back tight against me. My chest against his back, my hairy legs shoved against his slick ones, my dick drilling into his ass and trying to dig into his tummy. I hit his prostate over and over as I long-dicked him, his slender body bouncing up and down as I rutted in him. He was right. He was a Hole. That's exactly what he was. A tight, grasping, glorious Hole.

He lost his brace against the wall, and the violence of my fucking body drove him forward. His shoulders and chest were plastered against the shower tiles. His fingers scrabbled at the wall above his head, trying to find something to hold onto even as he kept pumping his ass into my crotch. I grabbed his cock in both of my hands, pumping him, flogging his meat as I screwed him. I could feel his balls bouncing, slapping against my beating hands, his cock thicker and harder than ever. An iron crowbar in my hands. A swollen handle to operate his body with, a lever to make his ass suck and clutch and gobble at my dick.

He was trapped between the unmoving wall and the relentless need of my fucking body. No air between any of them now -- me plastered against every inch of his back, his front pressed against the wall. Ahhh how good it felt. Using him. Taking him. Ramming into an orifice that took and took and wanted more. I sank my teeth into his shoulder, and his howl bounced around the tiled room. And he only asked for more.

"Do me. Do me. Fuck the Hole. Fuck it. Flatten me. Push all the way inside me, ride up into me and make me yours. Awww shit yes oh yes this is what I came here for. To be fucked. FUCKED. Fuck my body. Fuck me. FUCK THE HOLE!!" His prick was a club in my hands as I flogged it, a heavy meat-club with its head protruding from my fist and flopping back and forth between his soft belly and the hard wall. My other hand was on his balls, the thumb and index finger forming a ring around the base of the balls, pulling them and stretching them away from his meat. Pulling on the balls. Pulling them like taffy. Prolonging the pain. Prolonging the pleasure. You can't cum yet, brother. You can't cum yet...

I can feel the muscles in his ass working, trying to get me off. Trying to make me dump my thick mancream into him. His man-pussy is so thirsty. It wants a drink. It wants to feel the jizz spray out into it, wants to gulp at and swallow the babies. Wants semen. Wants to be bred. Wants to be drenched with man-pudding. Wants to choke on semen.

My legs are losing strength. Starting to cramp up. It hurts. But I don't want to stop. Don't want this to ever end. I want to spend my forever pressed up against this wall, plugged into this Hole, feeling his slippery body sliding against mine as I rut in him. So. Fucking. Great. Perfect. Perfect.

His head falls back against my shoulder. My hands rise to twist his tits. His dick, bereft of my grasp, presses itself against the wall. He's humping the tiles now. He's banging his crotch against the wall as hard as he can. He wants to cum. My buddy needs to shoot...

And so do I. We are completely soaked, soap and water and mist everywhere. Our bodies wriggling and twisting against each other, floating in space as we ride each other's high. Now. It has to happen NOW....

The release. The absolute mindless other-worldly RELEASE of feeling my dick blast off and spit my babies into the Hole. Of grabbing his dick as it loses control and erupts, pouring his dickjuice all over my hand and the wall. The water washing us. Grabbing our sperm and sluicing it off our bodies and carrying it down the drain. Bliss.

His body twists around as I press his back up against the wall for one last eternity together. Our mouths meet and our lips spread open as we kiss as hard and as deep as we can. We are pouring our words and our joy into each other. We are saying "thank you." The Hole and The Prick are saying their last good-bye. I know he'll never come back to this floor again. I know that when I wake up for my 8 a.m. class he'll be nothing but a mist that has evaporated and disappeared.

But that's tomorrow. Right now we are pressed against each other and our mouths are locked together and the ecstasy belongs to us both.