Shower Bob

As Marissa and Vicky entered psych class, Bob, "Shower
Bob", now to Mari, was just taking his usual seat, as far back as
possible in the lecture hall.

"Hi Bob." She said, deciding to take the seat next to
him.

Bob grunted a reply, and looked at his book, suddenly
realizing that he needed to read. Mari leaned over. "Hey Bob, she
said, "who has bigger balls, firemen or policemen?"

Bob's head shot up, a look of disbelief on his face.

"Whoever sells the most tickets!" She delivered the line,
laughing, and Bob, realizing it was a joke, started laughing too.
The ice was broken. "My brother Todd told me that joke last year.
"He's really smart, and loves to tell jokes."

Bob, now completely relaxed, said, "He sounds nice. You
must really like him."

"Right on both counts. He's a great young guy, and I do
like him alot. He's one of the nicest guys I know." Marissa
scooted down in her seat. "Boy, do I like him," Marissa thought,
as the lecture began.

As the professor began droning on and on, in his hypnotic
monotone, Marissa began to loose interest. She closed her eyes,
and as the lecturer's voice beat a soft, lazy tattoo in her ear,
she began to think back to a time not that long ago, when the
world was new.

Marissa had always been interested in sex. When she was
eleven,(going on twelve was the way she thought of herself), she
would help her mother give Todd, her ten year old brother, a
bath. Todd was big for his age, tall and well proportioned, and
as smart as they came. He shared his sister's dark good looks.
The two kids got along great.

"You both took after your father's side of the family,"
their mother would tell them. Their father was a hot blooded
European of questionable pedigree. "Half gypsy and half jackel,"
was the way Marissa heard her mother once describe him. He went
out for a quart of milk four years ago, and no one had seen him
since.

Although Mari wouldn't admit it to a living soul, she
found that she got a crazy thrill when she helped bathe her
brother. It kind of worried her, and she couldn't quite get a
grip on the emotion. A guilty little pleasure that she couldn't
quite nail down. "I'm not doing anything wrong," she would
reason, "just helping mom."

"Yeah, right. Just helping mom and looking at his
thing," she'd admit to herself.

Mari knew it wasn't nice to want to look at such things.
But the truth was, his little thing fascinated her. Well, it just
did.

For Marissa, life in general was fun. The kids at school
liked her. She was tall and pretty and could play basketball and
softball as well as the boys. And why not? She was actually
bigger than most of the boys in her class, having started her
growth-spurt early. And aided by the infusion of some
particularily oily hormones from her father, her body launched
itself into a somewhat early puberty.

She actually started growing hair shortly after her
eleventh birthday, and sometimes she wondered if the other girls
in her class were getting hair too. Some of the other girls were
mature-looking to her, and she thought they might, but she wasn't
about to ask. She actually had mixed feelings about the hair.
Sometimes she wished it had never started growing, but other
times, like when she took a bath, she really thought it was neat.
She'd part it and spike it and then muss it up. Hey, it was her
hair.

It had started out as a few straight tendrils growing
where the two lips met at the top. Then, in a matter of months,
the hair thickened and curled, growing up and spreading
sidewards.

By the time Marissa was done with the sixth grade, she
had a curly triangle. "My own personal jungle," she thought as
she played with the hair in the tub one evening.

Her period had started a few months back and her mom had
told her "what she needed to know". But, being conservative
sexually and a bit old-fashioned, she didn't discuss the things
that Mari really wanted answers for.

As Marissa matured over the next several months, she
noticed that her body was not only looking different, but wow, it
started feeling different too. Real different.

She'd soap up her breasts, which were changing from flat
and hard to soft and round, and notice how tender the nipples had
become. Running her fingers over the puffy nipples gave her a
wild sensation. It also became apparent to Marissa that there
was more growing between her legs than just hair.

The lips were getting bigger and were starting to hang
down. Cancer? And the little knob on the top was growing, too.
Whether deformity, disease or natural phenomenon, all she knew
for sure was that it sure felt great when she soaped it up.

And Jeez, did she like to soap it; Marissa was sure she had the
cleanest vagina in the sixth grade.

Being as smart as she was, Mari wanted some real answers
to her questions. Specific answers. She thought about asking her
mother--for about two seconds. Her mother was a fine woman, but
sex wasn't her long suit.

That little birds-and-bees talk a few months back almost
killed her. Marissa had to laugh when she thought about asking
her to explain the female anatomy in detail. But she needed
answers.

The library seemed like a good place to start. But, being
a small town library, it wasn't well stocked with the kind of
information Mari wanted.

The sparse information she found did more to confuse than
enlighten. She did find out that the little knob was called a
clitoris, and was related, in some arcane way, to the penis. But
exactly how, was a mystery to her.

It sure didn't look at all like her brother's. And how
big was it supposed to get? Her's had been growing alot lately,
and she noticed a big difference in its sensitivity over the last
few months.

Her vagina, (that word she had know forever, even her
mother used it) always felt good when she washed it. But now it
felt so sensitive, the sensations she got when she touched it
frightened and delighted her.

The situation hadn't improved much by the time Marissa
entered the seventh grade. Her body was maturing quickly, and her
questions were being answered slowly. And every day at school,
newer, stranger and more exciting concepts were eagerly imparted
on her by her girlfriends.

Mari had lots of friends at school, and she soon realized
that she wasn't the only one going through the ravages of
puberty. The girls were constantly talking about sex, giggling
quietly in little groups, imparting great quantities of forbidden
wisdom on anyone who wanted to listen.

Marissa really couldn't be sure, but her intuition told
her that the girls who told the stories got even more excited
than the girls who were listening. She would watch their faces,
their eyes wide and shiny, while they related their sexually
explicit tales. Then she would see how, after the telling, they
looked at each of the other girls, looking at their faces. Trying
to gauge the effect that the story had on them.


At first, Marissa thought this was great. "Wow, these
girls know everything!" She would have all her answers in no
time.

However, being as good as some, and better than most at
separating fact from fallacy, she soon realized that the
consumate knowledge that her girlfriends seemed to possess was
nothing more than misinformation passed down from generation to
generation, in the finest old traditions of a sexually ignorant
society.

But she did learn the meanings of some often heard, but
previously undefined words, some of which she used herself, even
when she didn't have an inkling of what the meant.

Like horny. The girls in school were always talking
about being horny. "I'm as horny as a toad," she'd hear them say.
"God, that story got me horny!" Marissa was too ashamed to let on
that she really didn't know what it meant. It was finally
explained to her by Sue, the one girl who's opinion she
respected, when she got up the nerve to ask.

"Sue, can I ask you something," Marissa started the
conversation on the way home from junior high one day.

Sue seemed to be a bottomless vessel of sexual
information. Her father taught psychology at the junior college,
and Sue would sneek into his study, devouring the sexually
oriented books, when he wasn't home. She also did other things,
with the door locked in her bedroom. She'd die if anybody found
out.

Physically, she was much more mature than Marissa, as
well. She was fourteen, with a shiny forehead and an ongoing,
minor case of acne. As one pimple was defeated, another bloomed.
Other than that, she was quite attractive, as fourteen year olds
go. She favored jeans and tee shirts, and she reminded Mari of
the older sister on "Three's Company." Sue was also totally
obsessed with sex, and Marissa liked that just fine.

"Ask away, Mar," she said, you know the rules. The two
girls made a pact, never to reveal to anyone, even if threatened
with death, their secret conversations. But, you had to say
"secret conversation" first.

"Secret conversation. What does 'horny' mean?" Mari
checked for a reaction. Not seeing any, she continued, "I'm
serious. I hear it all the time, you know, 'I'm horny', 'I'll
bet he's horny,' I've said it myself. But I really don't know
what it means." She waited.

Sue checked to see if Marissa was serious. Satisfied that
she was, she slowly formulated her answer.

"Mari, horny is like when...like when you...like when
you're thinking about sex, and you get real hot, and then you get
that full weird feeling up and down your body and down your legs,
and, like you gotta get relief, and, you know...you have to get
yourself off." Sue looked down at her shoes. Then she said,
"Remember, secret conversation."

"OK, yeah, I think I got it." Well, she got most of it,
and most was better than none.

At last, the wonderful lousy feeling had a name. Horny.
"If the other girls are as horny as toads, then I'm as horny as a
bullfrog," Marissa thought. Verbalizing the thought mentally
seemed to help a little.

She'd come home from school and start thinking of some
guy at school, or replay one of Sue's sexually charged lectures,
and feel the hunger. Then she'd look around to make sure nobody
could see. "One good squeeze," she'd think, and squeeze for five
or ten seconds. And some of the pressure would be relieved.

The reptillian part of her brain would feel the squeeze
and get frightened, retreating back down to the base of her
brain where it lived. It was small and young, too. But it was
growing, and getting smarter. And getting much more stubborn.

She would think about one of the boys in her seventh
grade class and press against the corner of the kitchen table.
Perpetual horniness. Was it fatal? Maybe this was just what
happened during puberty. Some strange, temporary condition that
would correct itself as she matured. Marissa was sure of one
thing. Adults, she reasoned, couldn't possibly feel like this;
given enough time, it would certainly cause madness.

During this period, Marissa's bath time took on new
meaning. She was half-way through the seventh grade, and one of
the most sexually mature girls in her class. She looked like an
eighth grader. The reward was admiring glances from the boys, but
the price, of course, was a fierce sexual hunger.

Her discovery was a natural progression from her
squeezing and pressing, aided by an article she read in one of
her mother's magazines. The subject, innocently enough, was
female hygene. What caught her eye was the section on the
clitoris.

Sometimes, Marissa worried about the size of her
clitoris. It started growing when she hit puberty. When she
wasn't feeling sexy, it was no big deal. It was completely
hidden under the hood, and that was that.

What she thought might be a problem was what happened
when she felt horny. When she gave it a squeeze, or rubbed
against something, it got really big and hard. Like the size of
her pinky down to the first joint. Lots of times when this
happened at home, she would go into the bathroom and look.

Parting the lips, she would see the red tip sticking out
from under its hood. "Just one naked squeeze", she would say to
herself, and she would grasp her clitoris between her thumb and
forefinger and squeeze it. The rush was amazing. She'd feel it
down her back and through her rear end.

Then she would gently pull the hood down over the tip as
best she could and wait until it got soft enough for her to pull
up her panties without giving it any extra stimulation.

In the article, the author advised that, during bathing,
the clitoral hood be retracted all the way back, exposing the
glans for cleaning. "Cleansing the base of the clitoris," wrote
the author, a noted female gynecologist, "can prevent irritation
and infection."

That night, while she bathed, Marissa remembered the
article. First, she thoroughly washed her vagina with her soapy
right hand while she lifted herself partially out of the water,
supporting herself with her left. The washing had the usual
effect; her clitoris came to life.

"Now let's see what's under here," she thought, as she
pulled the hood back, exposing the glans. Before reading the
article, Marissa hadn't realized that the skin could be safely
pulled back all the way, and, since this was the first time, she
had a little difficulty getting the hood to clear the rim of the
glans.

With a little tug, it slid over, leaving the entire glans
exposed. She bent over a little to get a better look. "Unreal,
it really does look like a tiny dick." She examined more
thoroughly. "Some white stuff around the base, just like the
author said."

Marissa rubbed the base of her clitoris, cleaning it.
"Oh, God what a feeling." She reached up and soaped the tips of
her thumb and first two fingers. Her clitoris was now engorged
with blood and pulsating.

Carefully she ran the three soapy fingers up the shaft
and over the glans, then back down, then up again. And the
reptile sprang from it's sleep. And it knew, for the first time,
really, what it wanted.

Marissa was now lost in her own being, not knowing what
the next moment would bring. Cupping her hand, she brought some
bath water up and rinsed off the soap, which had begun to
irritate her a little. Allowing the prepuce to slide back,
partially covering the glans, she began rubbing the right side of
her clitoris in earnest.

Occasionally brushing the tip with her index finger,
she kept rubbing and rubbing, totally lost in this new suspended
world. And then the sensation started to change. A scary sweet
spark seemed to ignite at the tip, and spread throughout her
clitoris . "Oh, my God, Oh, my God!"

The feeling became so strong, and her clitoris so
sensitive that she had to stop. "Oh, my God, what was that?"
Overcome by the fear that she had somehow damaged herself, she
stopped abruptly.

And waited. "Still alive." After a minute her fear
subsided, and her clitoris and heart rate returned to their
unexcited states.

Climbing from the tub, Marissa wondered what had
happened. She didn't know if she liked the feeling or not. But
she definitely knew she'd discovered something important.

From then on, Mari could hardly wait to take her bath.
After running the water, she made sure that the door was securely
locked. An uninvited guest, like her brother, could be
disasterous.

Then she would take off her robe, remove her bra and
panties, and look at herself in the half mirror over the sink.
Dark brown hair, full lips, beautiful eyes with luxurious
eyebrows. Kind of a weak solution of Brook Shields.

She knew that the boys in school were always secretly
looking at her. She also knew that they would all get boners if
they could see her naked, like this. That excited her . Besides
her brother's, Marissa had never seen a live penis, let alone a
boner. She knew about them from the older girls at school, and
the sexy stories they told.

Marissa would then climb into the tub, and get what she
thought of as the regular part of her bath over with as soon as
possible, leaving her privates for last. She'd go through the
whole routine: soaping, rinsing, feeling the surge of pleasure
as her clitoris sprang to life.

"I'm only practicing good hygene," she would tell
herself as she washed and excited herself. The baths always ended
the same way, with Marissa vigorously rubbing the right side of
her clitoris with her first two fingers.

She quickly learned that sexual fantasy heightened the
sensation, and she would think about the sexy conversations she
had with her girlfriends, especially Sue, while she rubbed. And
then, all too soon, Mari would know it was going to happen, and
she would get "the cool feeling" and have to stop.

She was just too afraid to keep rubbing after she got
the feeling. She would soak her clitoris in the warm water and
wait for everything to return to normal.

Things went on pretty much like that for a long time,
bath times filled with excitement, fear and frustration. Then,
one night, she helped give her brother a bath, and her whole life
changed.

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