- Her Attractive Boobs
- Her Attractive Boobs – Part 2 Continues….
This is a new story called “Her Attractive Boobs” let’s begin…..
What was starting university still half in lockdown like? Well, my grades were solid, I was bored out of my skull, and I masturbated a lot.
It would be fair to say that I felt a little cheated; I had envisaged the start of life as a fresher as being wild. I would finally be away for the first time in my life from the severe, disapproving glare of my parents.
They would have blown their collective fuse had they got wind during my sixth-form days of a boy within striking distance of my bedroom, and I was fully intent on making up for lost time as I looked ahead to the start of university life- on bar crawls and impromptu hook-ups and not having to care any longer what other people labelled me as, like every great coming-of-age movie cliché rolled into one.
Then, of course, by the time I was actually heading off to campus, the pandemic was in full swing. Any socialising, raunchy or otherwise, became all but impossible. There were secret parties, of course, and I certainly considered attending a few. But I guess my parents’ influence had rubbed off on me more than I realised, and I stayed tediously put in my new room, listening with ire to the music blaring from the accommodation block across from mine, and the knowledge that someone else was having an infinitely better time than I was.
But it was more than just COVID that was cramping my style, I’ll admit. When I caught sight of the guys who were hosting those gratingly vibrant parties hanging out in front of their building, or even when I heard snatches of laddish male laughter from across the block at night, I was hit more by apprehension than intrigue. On reflection, I’d picked an all-female accommodation block on campus for a reason. University boys made me nervous. I was more wary of them than I was interested. Hook-ups? Forget it.
As it happened, then, with my less than flourishing social life, the people I did get to know fairly well were my neighbours in the building. I had a single room with a kitchen shared with a few others down the hall and an adjoining bathroom that I shared with another girl whose room was just across from mine.
My bathroom neighbour was a psychology major named Rose, and she was incredibly sweet. I’d come a long way from home to university- take that, possessive parents- whereas she was from only a few miles away, and so she’d come much better prepared, and was very generous in lending me anything I’d belatedly realised I hadn’t brought.
Aside from that, though, my company was pretty stagnant, and I found myself often bored and frustrated and… well, you know. I was stressed, classwork was challenging, my racy dreams of campus life were as of yet unfulfilled, and one of the few bright spots was the novelty of having a bedroom with a locking door and some co-habitants who respected the right to privacy. So I got off. Pretty often. Like I said, it was novel being able to touch myself at more or less any time of the day, and without pausing every time I thought I heard a creaking floorboard or another door opening nearby.
Of course, it was still a shared accommodation block, and so I didn’t have total free rein just to cut loose. Most notably, Rose also played for the university’s hockey team, and was liable to come home and jump in the shower at odd hours of the day as they struggled to schedule things to accommodate their ‘bubble’, and I didn’t yet feel quite comfortable entertaining anything risqué with her just a single door away.
Over time, I ended up more or less reverting to my usual old habit of rubbing one out just before bed, by which time everything had settled down. In our block, at least- the ‘mad lads’ in the accommodation across from ours were still partying late into the night, and I often found myself resorting to… other methods to keep their noise out.
Porn was something I had a bit of an odd relationship with. It had been the one lewd going-on I could actually get away with as an adolescent- my parents might have been conservative, but they were about as computer-illiterate as it was possible to be, and happy for me to have my own laptop as they figured I would need it for schoolwork.
I probably first had a look just out of curiosity; my upstanding church-affiliated school took a pretty Victorian line on anything resembling sex education, and my mid-teens probably spawned some pretty questionable Google searches that Rose’s psych professors might have had a field day with. Over time, it became just a little indulgence, though one I had thoroughly mixed feelings about. I’d read some truly terrible things about the porn industry,
and after the initial teenage novelty had worn off had grown quickly weary of the stilted, mechanical sex that so much of it depicted. Still, I didn’t see anything so terrible in principle about watching two attractive people get it on. By the time I started university I had become significantly choosier (and, naturally, a lot more angsty that I hadn’t yet graduated to the real thing) but the mood still took me some of the time,
provided I could find something that was 100% above board, and where the sex seemed genuinely nice and something I could imagine doing for myself, if I ever managed to get out of my room and meet a guy who didn’t gross me out.
Boy, did I have no idea what I was in for.
With nobody to get on my case about it, another small novel enjoyment was being able to let my living space be a little messy. I felt vindicated in this by Rose, who was prone to leaving stuff everywhere in our shared bathroom. Shampoo, shower gel, moisturisers, make-up remover, the lot. I didn’t particularly mind, and would have been loath to start an argument with one of my few new friends anyway, so it never came up between us.
Until, that was, one morning on which I was up earlier than usual for a rescheduled online lecture, and was brushing my teeth at the sink when I spotted something sitting just beside the stainless hot tap. It was a small matte black object that I initially mistook (okay, don’t laugh, I was innocent) for a small stick of deodorant.
I took a closer look. No, that clearly wasn’t it. The slight lip near one end that I’d mistaken for the base of a lid was purely decorative, and as I looked closer I spotted something at the underside, a small opening with a silver protrusion inside. A charging port? But what for? What was-
Then, belatedly, realisation hit me and my heart skipped a beat. Oh no. Rose must have left it in here by accident. It was okay, I told myself. She may not have been awake yet; I could simply finish up here and go for my lecture and she would never need to know that I’d seen it. Good thing too, because she’d surely be mortified. Or, perhaps, I would be mortified-
The other door swung open.
I hadn’t bothered to lock it. I was only brushing my teeth, after all. “Oh,” Rose said brightly. “You’re up early. Did one of your-“
Her eyes, predictably, arrived exactly where I’d been praying she’d fail to look. “Oh-” Rose looked briefly at me, then straight down at the tiled floor, blushing like mad. “Uh, sorry, I forgot to- yeah-“
She grabbed the toy and exited back to her room, determinedly not looking at me. I stood there, feeling a flush of my own creeping across my face, and a painful mixture of embarrassment and sympathy for my friend.
The incident remained on my mind throughout my early lecture- I was grateful to be able to merely listen with my camera and mic both switched off and I felt myself blush again as and when it popped back into my head throughout the day. The best response, I decided, was to act as if nothing had happened. I’d just plough on ahead next time we ran into each other. Rose, surely, would want to forget about twice as much as I did.
I didn’t see her again while I was cooking that evening, but I didn’t have to wait much longer- my hair-dryer began playing up the following day, and figuring a little embarrassment was preferable to running a dodgy appliance next to my wet hair, I braved the other side of the bathroom door and knocked softly. “Rose? Can I borrow your hair-dryer?”
“Sure, come on through.” Rose was sitting at her desk with her headphones on. “It’s a pre-recorded lecture, don’t worry,” she added, shrugging them off. “Over there on the windowsill.”
“Thanks.” I was maybe a little more stiff than usual, but Rose seemed unbothered, and I made my way over to grab the dryer.
“No problem.” She turned back to her screen.
“I’m sorry about yesterday.”
I had blurted it out without even thinking. Great. So much for carrying on like nothing had happened. I could feel the heat creeping up my face once more.
Rose looked slightly taken aback, and I winced internally. Then, to my immense relief, she half-smiled sheepishly and shook her head. “Oh, no, no, it’s fine. It was my fault anyway, you haven’t got anything to be sorry about.”
I was still certainly blushing and annoyed at myself for bringing it up, but I now also felt a slight twinge of additional annoyance on top. Had my life in fact turned me into a prude after all, if I was more embarrassed at finding someone’s intimate toys than they were? Ugh, I even winced at that too. Sex toys. You can think of the word.
Indoor acoustic concerts are ‘intimate’. Things you use to get off are sexual. “Well, I’m sorry anyway,” I said. “Hey, since lockdown’s probably killed off hook-ups, we’re probably not the only people it’s happened to.”
I thought I was pushing it there, but Rose merely laughed and nodded. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I’d probably have brought more if I’d known I was gonna be flying solo.”
I couldn’t quite believe I was having this conversation, but I giggled and shrugged. Well, I’d wanted to loosen up a bit after getting away from home, hadn’t I? “Good thing you live within driving distance,” I said. “I had to take a flight to get here.”
Rose grinned conspiratorially. “Oh, God, that’d be a fun trip through airport security. Literally flying solo.”
“Oh my God-“
We cracked a few more jokes before I took the dryer and left her to return to her studies. My pulse was still going a little quicker than normal, but I didn’t mind much. Mainly I was just relieved that I wasn’t going to be tiptoeing around my nearest neighbour- and nearest friend here, if I was honest. And she was right. It was nothing to really be embarrassed about, when you broke it down. Hell, I’m sure it could easily have been me, if I owned anything like that. I didn’t, of course- attempting to smuggle the parcel past my parents would have been a nightmare-
And then it hit me, for the first time, that I no longer needed to. I paused with the dryer in my hand. I had received little mail on campus so far, but I knew the system: everyone had the right to claim a locker, and postal deliveries could be mailed directly there and then collected at our own discretion. Anything I wanted to order I could do so entirely inconspicuously. I filed that little revelation away in the back of my mind. I wasn’t quite ready to act on it yet, but I certainly wasn’t going to forget it, either.
**
Rose and I’s conversation turned out not to be a mere one-off. She was much more relaxed in talking about these things than any of my old friends- and I, as it turned out, had things I’d been waiting to get off my chest without realizing it for a long time.
It was something wholly new to me, having someone to talk to who was genuinely confident and comfortable discussing sexual topics. Not just confident and comfortable, in fact, but sweet and approachable. Having shuffled awkwardly around the issue for some time, I eventually admitted to her that I was still a virgin, genuinely worried that she might laugh or, even worse, take pity on me. But she merely shrugged and nodded calmly. “That’s okay. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. We’re supposed to be done with making people feel bad for having sex- why would making anyone feel bad for not having sex be any better?”
“I guess it’s not.” Even with her nonchalance, I couldn’t help but cringe a little. “You know that’s easier for you to say, though. It’s hard not to be self-conscious about it.”
“I know.” She reached out and brushed my shoulder affectionately, and it surprised me. I wasn’t all that used to affection from friends. Come to think of it, I wasn’t all that used to affection from anybody. “But you’ll get there. And you don’t have to rush. I’ll let you in on a secret: when I lost my virginity, it sucked. Seriously, it was so underwhelming, and I was too shy to say anything- like I was worrying about it: ‘am I bad at this?’ ‘Is this just what sex is always like?'”