Sleeping Cutie's Two Daddies (reluctant taboo sleep sex erotica) by Riley Rourke

Sleeping Cutie’s Two Daddies
     
     
    Whomp.
    Whomp-whomp.
    Slapping my required-unless-you’re-insane
flip flops against the tile leading to the dorm bathroom always
made me giggle a little. A lot of things do, I guess, but that’s
one of my favorites. I tend to head down at weird times. I like to
shower in the middle of the afternoon, right around lunch, whatever
– when most of the girls who live in this place are off doing other
things.
    Why? I’ve got a confession.
    I’m a virgin.
    Yeah. Seriously. I’m A twenty-one year old
college girl who hasn’t ever even let a guy get to third base. And
no, before you ask, I’m not some kind of weirdo. I just...well, I
never found the right guy is all.
    Whomp.
    Laughing at the echo, I pulled open the door
to the common shower room and put all my stuff on the faded blue
shelf outside the stall. That’s one of the best parts of girls’
locker rooms, or bathrooms or whatever. We all get separate stalls.
Guys? They get to stand in a big circle and shower while they all
stare at each other’s dicks.
    Oh lord, Gia. You’re blushing because you
thought of a bunch of naked guys soaping up. How ridiculous are
you? There I stood, blushing, alone in a bathroom.
    Like I said. Virgin.
    I’m such a virgin it hurts sometimes. My
girlfriends will watch porn or whatever and laugh about it, or talk
about their boyfriends and the stuff they do when it’s supposed to
be lights out and I just can’t handle it. I get all red-faced,
giggly, and ridiculous. But that’s what happens! I can’t help it.
We’ll go out for a beer, although I never drink any, since you’re
not supposed to have any alcohol ‘even in your belly when you come
back to campus’ here at St. Mary’s.
    See? That’s me. I’m such a dork I follow the
rules that nobody ever follows . But hey, that’s just me.
Anyway, the girls will get talking about all the stuff their
boyfriends do to them and I do a whole lot of blushing. At the same
time though, I feel things that I feel bad about, no matter how
much everyone else talks about how good it feels.
    One time, I let Brad Preston stick his hand
under my shirt, and the way his hand kind of rasped over the mauve
fabric of my bra made my...er...nipples get really hard. I knew
that happened when it was cold, or I got wet or whatever, but that
was the first time someone else made me feel like that. And of
course, as soon as he did, I made him quit and didn’t call him for
a week.
    Back to the shower thing – why do I go in the
middle of the afternoon when no one’s around? Well...
    That afternoon was just like the rest of
them. I went to morning mass, finished my two Thursday morning
history classes and started to have my feelings . I got out
of my little shower shorts, and tight t-shirt I loved to wear, but
only when I was pretty sure I was alone because it was really embarrassing the way guys looked at me when I wore
it. Then, as soon as I figured the shower was hot enough and I
stepped under the water, the drops hit me on the chest.
    Little beads of water ran down my between my
breasts, past my navel and slid around my down there . I
loved the way it felt. The wet trickles circling me, and how when I
put one of my legs up on the soap dish, how the stream of water
massaged me in my special place.
    Starting to make sense why I take my showers
in the middle of the day?
    I closed my eyes and ran my hands through my
hair. Heat from the water splashed all over my...well...what is
there to be embarrassed about? The water caressed my belly, ran
down between my legs, and tickled the sensitive nibs on my tits. I
always liked that word. It makes me feel so naughty to say, or even
think, but I like the way it sounds.
    “Does it feel good when I put my hands on
your tits?” A soft, vague voice echoed in my mind. My fantasies
never really had faces but they always had a voice, and it was
always the same one. It’s weird, but in these little daydreams I
have when I touch