The Whore on 8th Floor [MF]

It’d been some time since Angie got home from school, heartbroken, in debt, stuck working a cashier job and taking advantage of the free rent in her parent’s basement. She had half a degree to show for it, and maybe she’d go back someday, but it surprised everyone in her small town when such a smart girl came back so abruptly. But Angie knew exactly where she went wrong in school. And despite what people thought, Angie had no regrets.

The boys in her dorm had a shared bathroom, and Angie’s room was right next to it. She’d set a goal to be as social as she could. A bit of a bookworm, she’d had a late growth spurt in high school and never was one of the cool girls. But she could change all that at College, she was certain of it. And so every day, she made a point to keep her dorm-room door wide open, and strike up as many conversations as she could.

It started innocently enough. But as more and more of her co-ed peers would file through their shabby dorm hallways, wearing nothing but a towel on the way to or from the showers, Angie couldn’t help but take a little interest in the young men. It was Wheeler who first caught her eye. He played for the College basketball team and was in better shape than anyone she’d ever met. His 6 foot frame, his strong biceps, his washboard abs… All out in the open, nothing but a small towel wrapped around his waist. He had a small tattoo that highlighted his hip bone, and Angie couldn’t stop thinking about it. Thinking about the tattoo, what the rest of it looked like under his towel… And what else was waiting for her under that thin white cotton.

…

Wheeler noticed Angie’s door was open every time he went for a shower. He’d been so stressed balancing his homework with his time on the court, but there was something about that open door by the communal showers that made gave him something to look forward to every day. He didn’t know her well enough yet, but he was pretty sure that Angie, the sweet girl small town girl who barely said a word at parties, was wearing less and less each time he paid a visit to the showers.

First it was a college sweater, and he liked that about her. The school gave him a scholarship, a full ride, and it meant a lot to him. It was nice to see someone there who took pride in their school, just like he did. He made a point to stop into her room when he saw her sweatshirt, hell, he had the same one himself. But as they exchanged small talk about the classes they had, the parties they were looking forward to, Wheeler couldn’t help but notice Angie’s cheeks would flush red and her eyes would dart down to his towel. He was good with women, he knew the effect he had on them, but there was something special about Angie and her wholesome roots, her school pride, her wide open door…

Wheeler decided he’d make a point to stop by Angie’s again after that, the next time he showered. The red blush of her cheeks was fresh in his mind when he first jerked off in those showers, thinking of her. And so a new ritual was born. Every evening, after practice, Wheeler stripped down and walked to the showers in his dorm, making a point to stop by Angie’s.

One visit, a few evenings into their routine, Angie switched the college sweatshirt out for a low cut coral t-shirt. He could tell, under the sweater, that Angie’s breasts were big. But when he came back to her room and saw her there, in a thin pink shirt that showed off her cleavage, he realized they weren’t just big, they were firm, round, well supported. His face got a little hot and he realized he was growing.

…

Angie had spent hours picking out the right outfit. She was so impressed by Wheeler and his dedication to his school, his team, when they talked about her sweater and she wondered if she knew how every night she would touch herself in it, thinking about him. She wanted to show off for him, but she knew who he was, how many women were after him. She didn’t want to be presumptuous, and so she settled on a t-shirt that showed just enough. A nice cut right below her breasts, which she was still getting used to after such a late puberty. When she got the idea to wear the shirt that’d gotten her a lot of attention in the past, she was so excited she couldn’t focus, and she had to skip class. She masturbated three times that day, waiting for Wheeler’s nightly chit-chat…

She’d never had such intense desire before. She had a lot of time to herself in high school, and, without interest from the boys in her grade, she’d had to make use of her personal time. She was good at masturbating, but it was always just a means to an end, a break to her boredom, a simple sweet release for all the inner frustration and turmoil of a lonely girl coming of age. This was something different. She was insatiable, thinking about Wheeler and his tattoo. She didn’t’ feel tired or relaxed like she usually did afterwards. She felt alive and excited, her pussy flushed with juices just thinking about Wheeler and despite crashing orgasm after orgasm she realized she needed something more.

When Wheeler finally came by that night, it was like he new what she was doing all day. Something about his easy conversational style had shifted to an almost giddy, awkward, nervous demeanor. She caught him looking down her shirt right away, right when he saw her, and it took all she had not to rip open her blouse and offer herself up right there in the dorm. But, ever shy, ever a “good girl,” Angie just smiled along to the conversation politely. She knew that as soon as he left her hands would be down her pants. She could feel her panties soaking through and for a moment, she thought about pulling Wheeler inside and closing the door behind them…

But then she saw his towel shift. Wheeler was leaning against her door in his towel, his hands bracing him, but she couldn’t help but notice a slight throbbing under the fabric. She wanted to pinch herself. This guy was on a full ride, he was built like a greek god, and she was watching his cock grow just for her in her pink t-shirt.

She couldn’t help but stare. Fitting his basketball player’s large frame, Wheeler’s cock was obviously enormous. Angie couldn’t take it anymore. She needed that beautiful dick. She wanted to kiss his tattoo. She wanted to wrap her lips around his cock, she wanted to swallow it down as deep as she could, she wanted his thick hot cum splashing against the back of her throat.

But just when Angie was about to see if he wanted to come in, Wheeler dropped his hands in front of his towel, covering the tent he was pitching, his cheeks blushing as pink as Angie’s soft tight pussy. Before she could stop him, Wheeler was making excuses and rushing out to the shower.

…

Wheeler braced himself against the shower stall. The water was warm, flowing down over his muscular body. His cock was harder than he knew possible, and he thought about Angie’s low cut shirt, her perfect tits, while he stroked.

…

Angie was nervous when she decided to go through with it. She’d bought Wheeler’s jersey days ago, and she knew what she was going to do with it… She just didn’t expect it to happen so fast. But she couldn’t get the outline of his dick out of her mind. She swore she could make out throbbing veins through the towel, but that couldn’t be true, could it? His dick would have to be bigger than any she’d ever seen for something like that to be possible. God, that cock. She’d tried burying herself in her homework right after Wheeler left, but each time she tried to start an essay, there it was, the perfect member, stretching the towel towards her, begging for her lips…

Angie couldn’t take it. She stripped off her t-shirt, the push-up bra she’d chosen to make her tits stand out. She pulled on Wheeler’s jersey and held one hand on his player number while the other rubber her wet pussy up and down. It wasn’t enough. She knew what she really needed.

Angie had to change out of her panties, the old ones were soaked, and so she found a nice pair of booty shorts that matched the colour on Wheeler’s jersey. She took a moment, before leaving, to stop and stare at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t vain, but Angie knew she looked good. She almost stopped in front of the mirror to get herself off so she could get back to her essay, but she knew what she saw. She knew what Wheeler was packing, and what he was probably doing in the communal showers…

And so Angie slipped out of her dorm room, wearing nothing but sheer panties and her crush’s Basketball jersey.

…

Wheeler was rock hard. But he never much cared for shower sex, something about it made it hard for him to cum. Too much heat, too much stimulation from the water dropping on his hard body, but he knew if he didn’t cum his balls would ache for the rest of the night and he’d just be thinking about Angie instead of tomorrow’s big game.

He was about to call it quits when he heard the door open. His heart was beating, did somebody hear him in there? If he was caught masturbating in the communal shower, Wheeler knew his teammates would never let him hear the end of it. He stood there, quiet, his throbbing dick in his hand… But the footprints sounded lighter than the stomping clumsy feet of his fellow dormmates.

“Hello?” He called out. His shower curtain rippled.

“Someone’s in here,” he said, trying to hide his hard cock, thinking he was about to get caught.

“I know,” replied a voice, the voice he couldn’t get out of his head.

The shower curtain slowly pulled open and Wheeler turned to find Angie there, wearing his jersey and little else. Her tits were flowing out of the sides, he could make out how hard her nipples were through the light athletic wear…

…

Something came over Angie. She’d never done anything like this. Sure, she’d thought about it a lot. She’d ran scenario after scenario about finding just the right guy, and giving in to the desires she’d felt so strongly, but so internally. Now that her dream dick was right in front of her, Angie felt like a woman possessed.

She stepped into the shower. She didn’t care that her clothes were getting soaked. She didn’t care that her tits were popping out… All she cared about was getting Wheeler’s cock in her hands.

He didn’t say a word as she stepped inside and grabbed hold of him. She could tell he was big in her dorm room, but now that she actually had him in her hands? It took both of them to get a hold of Wheeler’s cock, and there was still a good few inches sticking out. Angie squeezed. She felt like she was grasping titanium, this was nothing like the bananas she’d experimented with at home, this was the real deal. This was a pornstar cock, beautiful, firm, thick, long, it was hers.

Angie stood there stroking him, looking into his eyes, seeing how vulnerable he was with his prized possession in her palms. She felt his heartbeat through that cock, pounding to a rhythm she knew she needed inside of her. But what Angie really felt was power. She had power over this man, unlike anything she’d experienced before. She knew he would do anything to taste her… But Angie didn’t expect what she did next. It happened in a flash.

She pulled down her panties. She flipped them inside out, and she showed Wheeler the cum that was mixing with the flowing water. Without a word, Angie stuffed her panties into her Wheeler’s mouth and got down on her knees.

Wheeler’s cock was divine. The perfect size, the perfect girth. As she pulled him into her mouth, Angie looked up into Wheeler’s eyes, and said –

“I hope this doesn’t get us in trouble.”

And she wrapped her lips around him.

*This is my first story! Let me know what you think. I have a series in mind, but I’ll need the right support to keep me going. If anyone responds to this and wants to hear more, or would like to commission me for something, I am open to that in DM. Thanks for reading!*

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/f9l14q/the_whore_on_8th_floor_mf