showers of innocent desires

I was 17 years old and I’d carried on into 6th form to do my A-Levels and all in the same school, which brought a few perks: our own common room and we could wear what we liked with no requirement for the regulation school uniform, and were actually treated more as grown-ups finally.  It also meant the same teachers of course but the ones I had mostly I liked and got on fine.

I didn’t do the Sports and Exercise course even though that was an option, but still kept fit swimming and using our school gym.  I was fine with non-competitive exercise; it was such things as field sports I loathed.

I had never really fancied a teacher before, except for perhaps Mr. Evans. He taught English and a I wasn’t his only admirer, though some liked him for reasons different to mine being, I was more into that I like his attitude and the way he thought into tangents from subjects and ideas, but it was nothing more than an innocent schoolgirl crush.    Now I was in more of a college level of study and by the time I returned after summer break I’d pretty much outgrown it, instead I found another kind of desire emerge.

Unsurprisingly, my emotions weren’t fully-formed and still decidedly wayward but at the same time allowing me a chance to explore and discover what was truly me. As such I found myself increasingly attracted to other women, which wasn’t exactly new sure I was bisexual anyway, but now started feeling different, more adult perhaps, maybe mature would be the word for it, or so I thought. I found my attention increasingly drawn to a new Sports Exercise teacher who had just started at the school called Miss Anderson and who because I didn’t do that module I would never have teach me as such but as I spent time in the very places such as the gym and pool that she did I was lucky enough to find myself bumping into her.

Whenever I found myself anywhere near her I couldn’t stop looking her way and I kept telling myself to grow-up and control yourself!   She was the same height as me about, 5’3, and of very fit in a sports-sense obviously but also to me in a very sensual sense. Her general-wear in her teaching role was usually short sports skirt and collared short-sleeved shirt, sometimes with a track-jacket. No surprise that pretty much all the boys eyes were all over her which I thought very juvenile, but, who was I to talk! They fell, sometimes literally, over themselves to impress he which I’m sure not a single one ever did t her as she never showed a flicker of interest or unprofessional behaviour in that way.  She was clearly a strong personality, sure of herself and I admired that hugely as I was almost the opposite, a bit awkward and somewhat shy although always happy to debate or discuss anything with teachers especially if I disagreed with them.

Term was well underway and I’d kept finding myself in the same place as her often, usually as I said the gym or pool, sometimes walking down a corridor, and we developed a kind of mutual smile we exchanged whenever we saw each other.  I suppose you could call it a nodding acquaintance and I still hadn’t shared more than a “good morning” or “hello” with her. When I said I didn’t enjoy team games as such I did sometimes meet up with a few friends and play badminton in the gym, usually Wednesdays, and sometimes I’d see Miss Anderson at these times too.

Once thing that struck me on first ever seeing her was her brown eyes, so very brown, chocolate almost, which I envied as I had blue and had longed wished they were brown for no logical reason.  I knew very soon how my body and emotions began to react whenever I did see her or we passed each other, it was one of definite arousal, butterflies, tingles, which of course made it all the more difficult actually breaching any coherent conversation with her. Anyway, I was a student, she was a teacher.

She was 25 years old, which to me felt so much older than I was but at the same time I felt her more as an equal kind of in regarding myself as somewhat quite mature, not just physically but in the way I thought.  I had had girlfriends but usually of my own age and hadn’t entertained anyone older, that is until now.

One Wednesday afternoon I was swimming lengths as I usually did when I noticed her walk along the side of the pool carrying some sports equipment to a cupboard.  I saw her and stopped my lengths, took off my goggles pretending just to clear some water from my eyes and free-paddled while I did it. I wiped my hair and the water from my face to see better and couldn’t help but smile when she saw me at which I involuntarily froze like a rabbit, a very wet rabbit, in the headlights and embarrassingly blushed, but she just gently smiled back, totally relaxed.  Meanwhile my heart was leaping about beating like I was on speed of something.  Once again I had to tell myself, control yourself, and stop staring.  She disappeared into the changing rooms and I carried on my lengths being I have a number I like to do then add a few more each time. This time I had to complete them with my mind and body now flushed with an unexpected sexual rush.  I put all this sudden energy into swimming almost challenging the water to take the edge of it but all I ended up feeling was how it flowing over my cleavage, down my tummy, between my legs and thighs, how it felt against my skin.

After ten minutes I’d finished and climbed out heading for the changing rooms dripping wet of course and as I entered there she was, just finishing off a lesson with a third year class who by then were all changing back into uniform having showered.  She pottered putting away gym gear and checking all the girls were all done and ready to head off to their next lesson.    I made my way to the showers.

I was still wearing my blue swimsuit to wash off the pool water but now also conscious, or self-conscious, of her presence and how I was feeling towards her.  I didn’t dare look her way but each time I did dare a glance I almost couldn’t tear my eyes away again and felt my imagination imagining probably far too much and more than it perhaps should have been.  I felt so conflicted, uneasy but also excited and ecstatic at being this close and here too, in the changing rooms.

The third years had all left by the time I took off my swimsuit, lowering it from my shoulders and down my arms and over my hips until I was stood there totally naked still in the shower again and with the feel of the water inadvertently encouraging my teenage desires.

With a palm-full of body soap I rubbed it over my body, tummy, breast, nipples, down to my legs thighs and stealthily let my hand touch myself more intimately than I perhaps should’ve considering where I was I closed my eyes seeing Miss Anderson in my mind.  My whole flushed intense and I knew she was still somewhere in here but I couldn’t help myself. I felt breathless, drowning in the most beautiful way possible. Once again I had to inwardly scold myself, pull yourself together!

I finished showering, grabbed and wrapped my towel around me and went to the lockers where I could no longer see her.  I towelled my hair deciding against using any of the hair-dryers and slipped on my underwear, then black leggings, flared skirt and vest top.  Facing the full length mirror I towelled my disorderly hair again and spotted Miss Anderson.  I had a feeling she may have thought everyone had gone and she was alone. I surreptitiously watched her appear in the mirrors reflection walking to the showers totally naked but for carrying a towel.  I took a deep breath and held it along with my gaze not daring to let it out and give away I was here.  I found I couldn’t stop looking at her reflection and adjusted my positon to follow her, as voyeuristic and weird as that sounds I once again couldn’t seem to help myself. I just knew I really wanted too, needed too.

I quietly stepped closer to the showers so I could watch feeling both guilty and aroused and was entranced by the water streaming over her nudity following the contours of her amazing physique, not muscular but toned, firm, smooth, now glistening as each droplet caught the light and danced across her olive skin all the way down to her bare feet.

I almost didn’t know what to do with these feelings, the deep stirrings spreading like mercury through me enveloping in a most hypnotic way.  All I could do was stare until I had a flash of panic as though someone might see me watching her. I looked behind and down towards the door out and then the corridor leading out to the pool and no one, just a couple of faint voices and splashing from the pool.

I stood watching suddenly aware of my own hand under my skirt.  I was transfixed. I was touching through my clothes, enticing and encouraging the waves and ripples and desires that burned in me and over me. Miss Anderson continued showering spreading gel over her small frame, he small breast, similar to mine but with larger aureoles, she seemed to be more than showering herself as he hand also went between her legs over her dark pubic hairs now covered in soap.  My touch slipped over my knickers pulling down my leggings from my waist just enough to slide my whole hand inside, under the cotton until I was exploring myself, these cravings, standing just feet away.  She was my secret and I was hers as to me felt like we were making love, my hand was hers and hers was mine.

I began feeling faint and leaned against the wall now a I felt closer and closer, not just to her but to myself, my own looming orgasm which was threatening to burst, which I did nothing to stop, and couldn’t, not now, I was too far gone.  I should even be there; it felt so wrong and also so, so right, so serendipitous. I felt overwhelmed, there we both were, together and not, separated by feet, age, years, maturity, roles, she a teacher and me a student.

She turned slightly towards me and I nearly ran away but couldn’t; I was rooted to the spot, but she didn’t seem to notice me as she kept almost loving her own body as I imagined another woman might, as maybe I wish I could. For a moment I imagined myself undressing again, walking over to the showers and getting in beside her, us both naked.  But then reality snapped me back to the now, the real, which was wild enough anyway as I saw he fall gently against the tiled wall while her hand stayed between her thighs with a barely audible sigh to which I hasten the approach of my own orgasm unstoppably now and felt my legs give way and hips crumble.

Unfortunately I wasn’t so subtle and let out an audible almost surprised cry and she turned, still in the showers with water raining down all over her and looked directly at me.  I jumped, felt my body almost burst into flames as though I’d been struck down for the most heinous sin and pulled my hand out from under my skirt.

What was strange is she didn’t seem embarrassed in the slightest. I was, big time and no mistaking my presence for an accident and no hiding just what I’d been voyeuristically indulging.  I didn’t know what to do so foolishly just smiled clumsily feeling stupid and very, very embarrassed. But then she just smiled back, with a look I couldn’t understand at the time but now later and definitely now being older I do.  She hadn’t minded at all me watching; in fact most likely the whole time knew I was there.

Almost in a daze I then hastily gathered my towel and bag and apologetically dashed out of the changing rooms.  From that day until the day I left college our “good mornings” and “hello’s” carried much more than just a simple innocent greeting, and we both knew it and I think neither of us minded.  I never ever followed up what happened and it never happened quite like that again even though I did see her around plenty of times, even in the changing rooms, even the showers, and too this day we have remained secret lovers, or that’s how I like to imagine maybe she thinks also.

I often wonder though, what if, after all I’m not that much older now and neither is she and if we meet by chance again I wonder…

showers of innocent desires

© 2018 Emmaleela


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