| Dorothy and the Mobil Home Bathroom
The cost of housing was unacceptably high . . . astronomically
high for a new kid. I had tried one "reasonable" apartment
a mile or so from the charming Eastern Campus with its
ivy-covered stone buildings. It was reasonable only because the
slumlord couldn't get anyone to live there (I subsequently learned).
After a week's battle, trying to clean up the place, I'd given up. The
rancid and rotten smells were ingrained deep in the decay of the
building. I gave up and bought a mobile home. They called them
"trailers" in those days.
Dolores, my and I, both students, came to enjoy
those cramped quarters, for they were light and clean and more,
they were ours. That summer, she'd invited an "aunt" to visit us as
she was passing through on her way to "spend some time in Spain."
As I understood it, this lady - Dorothy was her name - was the
aunt of my wife's sister-in-law. Despite the remote connection,
they were friends and I'd come to feel a real affection for her, so it
was no more than a minor bother to have her stay with us for a
week or so.
Dorothy was thirty-something, a few pounds over weight, and
filled with a lust for living life. She had an easy-going acceptance
of people and a delightful, sassy way of putting them at ease. Often
she'd toss off some sexy remark and then make eye contact with
me, eyes squinted with her laughter.
The second evening we were sitting in front of a large floor fan
that was blowing over a bowl of ice. There'd been scant relief from
the humid scorcher of a day and we were all lightly dressed.
Perhaps copying my wife's relaxed appearance, I was aware that
Dorothy's sleeveless top was damp with perspiration and clinging to
her ample, braless breasts. At one point, my had caught my
eye and with her's, gestured toward Dorothy's prominent nipples. I
grinned at her in acknowledgment, for our's was a easy and relaxed
relationship and I appreciated her silent permission for me to ogle
her lady friend.
Our bedroom was in the very back, just aft of the bathroom.
Forward of that was a "middle room," actually a wide-spot in the
hall-way containing a bunk bed. Dorothy had been curled up on her
made-up bed reading a novel and, on the way to john, I'd stopped a
moment to chat. As our conversation lengthened, I sat on the edge
of her bed and soon was sitting against the opposite wall,
comfortable in our relationship.
"I've got to clean up," she announced, "I'm meeting Dolores
for tennis." Without waiting for me to leave, she swung off the bed
and rounded the corner into the bathroom, still talking to me.
The "bathroom" was a pretentious name for the large closet
that held a too-small tub, a and a sink. Across the tub was a
shower curtain whose main job, it had evolved, was to serve as an
indoor drying rod for lingerie. I'd become quite used to my wife's
dainty things drying there, but since Dorothy's arrival the day
before, I was presented with a new collection of undergarments . . .
brief, lacy things. 36-D the cut-away bra said and the I
found there that morning were very brief with French-cut, high
sides . . . long before they'd become fashionable.
The walls were thin in that trailer. I accepted that she could
hear me and Dolores making love at night. Dolores was not quiet
in her passion. Too, I was aware of the usual "bathroom sounds"
of the two woman. One has to adopt to the forced intimacy of
trailer living or go bonkers. I wasn't surprised when she continued
the conversation, she in the bathroom and me still on her bed.
From my vantage, sitting on her bed, facing down the hall
toward the bathroom, I could see her clothes flying out the door,
landing in a heap on the floor outside the bathroom.
Our easy chatting was interrupted by the shower. I sat there,
imagining in my mind, this attractive woman soaping her in
my shower. How I'd like to watch her, I thought.. How I'd like to
see if the color of her pubic hair was as light brown as the hair on
her head. Atop the pile of her clothes, I saw another pair of her
panties, rumpled. Would they carry her scent, I wondered?
"Well, will you?" her voice brought me back with a start.
"I'm sorry. Didn't hear you. Will I what?"
A flash of light caught my attention. It was on the wall
separating her bunk bed from the bathroom and I suddenly
remembered that a long-empty screw was on that wall. When
I'd first noticed it, I saw that it afforded a peep-hole view into the
Now, I'm not at all adverse to peeping. I've always accepted
that I had some voyeur in me, but I'd never had an opportunity to
use it before this. I knew it was risky, for she *knew* I was there
and we were only a few feet apart. I suppose that risk added to the
"Will you show me around the campus tomorrow? she asked.
It suddenly dawned on me that I was hearing her so clearly because
she'd not pulled the pocket door closed. She must be drying herself
in the tub. Dare I peek?
"Uh, sure . . . be glad to," I answered as I knee-walked across
the bed and pressed my eye to the hole. At first I saw only the
mirror directly across from me and then she stepped into view, a
towel around her head and vigorously rubbing herself with another.
"Oh, good. Dolores is going to be ensconced in the library
tomorrow she said. We can get to know each other," she added.
I know how I'd like to get to know you, I thought.
She was standing with her back to me. I could see all of her
back side to a point below the full swell of her hips and prominent
buttocks. Reflected in the mirror was a wonderful view of her large
breasts, both from the sides and from the reflected front.. She
paused for a moment and leaned forward, inspecting some invisible
spot on her tit, and then said, " S'cuse me a minnit . . . gotta go."
I heard the door slide closed and in the next moment I'd slid off
the bed and picked up her panties, holding them to my nose. The
fragrance of her was strong, mixed with the unmistakable musky
smell of her pussy. Knowing she was naked on the other side of
that door, hearing her and smelling her panties, I suddenly
sported an intense woodie! God, I was horny!
Dropping her underpants, I scurried back to my vantage point.
Sitting on the right on the other side of my hole, she was
too low for me to look at directly, but the large mirror over the sink
gave me a marvelous view of her front.
My puzzler doesn't work well when I'm horny. Perhaps the
blood drain? Anyway, my witty conversation was reduced to me
asking, "You have a friend?"
"What?" she asked in a loud voice. "A friend? Hardly . . .
but I do have a couple a friends . . . nothing serious. Why?"
"Don'no . . . just curious," I said.
The paper roll rattled and I saw her carefully build a
folded wad of tissues, and then with her right leg cocked, reach
down and carefully pat herself extensively. Her public hair was full
and a medium brown, extending out of sight between her legs. As
she dropped the tissues, she leaned back, legs spread and said,
"Well, as you might guess, there are times when I wish I had a in my life. Actually," and she gave a rueful laugh, "what I'd really
like is someone when *I* want him . . . if you know what I mean."
"Sure I know what you mean . . . doesn't everyone?" I had to
pull my head back each time I answered, for I was certain she'd feel
the vibrations if I spoke with my eye jammed against the hole.
Her right hand had returned to her and she was running a
finger lightly up and down through her public hair, pausing near the
top of her visible slit. God! Was I going to get a chance to watch
this fox play with herself . . . and what'd she think I was doing all
She didn't speak. I could see that her eyes were closed and her
head was tilted upward. With the tip of her tongue sticking out,
she opened the lips of her with her left hand and was slipping
the middle finger of her right hand into her cunt. She *must* know
I might wonder what she was doing in there. That added to the
thrill . . . and my hard-on .
I couldn't help it. I pulled out my hard cock and with eye
pushed up against the hole, I began to stroke myself. I asked,
"What do you do for yourself?" (Now that was a leading question
at best, and more likely, a dumb question. What did anyone do?)
Echoing my thoughts, she replied with a touch of exasperation
and a little breathless, "What does anyone do?"
Jack off, I thought to myself . . . just like we're both doing right
now, separated by this thin wall . . . and I'm watching you!
"What do YOU do?" she asked. I could see her open her eyes
and look toward the door with a smile.
What happened next was not planned. Had I thought about it
for more than a second, I'd not have done it, I'm sure. But
excessive planning was never a serious character defect of mine.
Sliding off the bed for the second time, I stepped in front of the
pocket door. Holding my cock and stroking it with my right hand,
I opened the door with my left hand and answered, "This!"
Her hand was deep in her and she was slumped way
down, legs extended. Her eyes snapped open as she swung around
to see me. Her thighs closed on her hand for a moment. I could
see her eyes drop to my cock.
This was it. This was the moment of truth. Was I in deep shit
She smiled and relaxed her thighs but left her hand jammed in
her crotch. "We've only a few minutes," she said with a questioning
look in her eyes.
"That's all it'll take. I'm about ready to explode. Come on, get
out of there and bend over the bed . . . we'll do it that way."
She came off the john and stepped into the bedroom, and
bending over the end of the bed, groaned, "Oh, Christ . . . this is my
*favorite* way . . . DO it!"
I remember how the cheeks of her ass parted as she bent way
over, resting her head on the bed. I admired her pucker of an ass
hole and for a moment wondered . . .? No, this is *pussy time* I
decided. Kneeling down, I stuffed my face into her crotch and
tasted the warm, pulpy wetness of her cunt.
"Come on, come on! Put it in. I want it inside me. Don't tease
me . . . put your cock in my CUNT." She added an edge to the
word "cunt" as she reached back and with both hands, pulled her
ass checks apart.
Standing, holding her hips, I did a hands-free, lunging insertion
of my rigid dick, plunging into her all the way in one mindless
"Uuummmphhhh . . . yes-s-s-s . . . fuck me," she grunted, again
giving the "fuck" a slutty, hard tone.
This was no act of love, nor was I trying to thrill her with my
technique or my stamina. I was good for no more than a few
minutes of hard thrusting . . . close and holding her pendulous
breasts, I murmured those obscenities of mindless lust as I
approached my orgasm.
"Now!" she yelled. "Now, I'm going to . . . now . . . do it,
harder . . . harder."
"Here we go-o-o-o . . . cuming . . . in you . . . my . . . in
your . . . in your . . . oh, shit . . .take it all!"
We both slumped to the bed, gasping and spent.
The next day, Dolores asked me, "Did you like it? Did you like
screwing Dorothy?" Her grin resolved any concern I might have
I smiled and looked upward and asked, "Did you set this up?
Did you and Dorothy set me up. If so, thanks. And yes, I loved it."