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Shelly's Secrets: Bathing Jennifer Part 2

Shelly's Secrets: Bathing Jennifer Part 2

While trying to discover my own sexuality, I discover my roommate's.
Right after graduation, I enrolled in a very prestigious out-of-state university. Even better, I was going to be living with my good friend Shelly. I had known Shelly my whole life; she lived just 5 houses down. Although she was older, we had been very close until she moved away for college. In fact, she graduated from the very school I was attending just a few months before and was working the night shift at a nearby Trauma Center. So while I had the benefit of stepping out on my own, I also had the support of a very dear friend.

My college years were really a time of exploration for me; sadly it was mostly self-exploration. My roommate Shelly was always gone, leaving for work at like 10pm and not coming back until after I left for class. As soon as she left, I would deadbolt the door and put the chain on it. In the rare event that she came home, I’d tell her I didn't feel safe being home all alone. Of course that was a lie; I just wanted my own personal time. 

Just before Spring Break of my freshman year, Shelly told me she had to go out of town for work, and asked me to watch the boys while she was away--Shelly's little pugs Mark and Danny. She was a nurse and every few months she’d have to go out of town for a conference. It was always just for a few days and I pretty much lived by myself anyway. Now don't get me wrong, Shelly was a wonderful friend, my best friend, and still is. We had known each other for years, and in fact, Shelly had babysat me a number of times when I was little, even though she is only about 5 years older than I am. After I got home from school, we'd fix dinner together, watch TV, and talk each other's ears off until she left for work. But once she left for work, it was like she was going home, and I was all alone. She gave me the address and telephone number of the hotel she’d be staying at before climbing in her car. I watched as she backed out the driveway, feeling a little conflicted. In one sense, I didn’t want to see her leave. On the other, I knew her absence meant a lot more free time and time to play. While my heart ached watching her car disappear around the corner, my pussy was dripping.

I locked the doors as soon as I was inside and had my clothes off before the computer even booted up. I went straight for one of my favorite bulletin boards and started looking at pictures. It was painful how long it took for a single picture to load up, but to me, it was well worth the wait. I also had several magazines out. After a particularly sexy picture loaded onto the screen, I came up with the bright idea of saving it to a floppy disc. I looked all over the desk, but all of them were used. I knew Shelly usually kept a supply in her closet, so I peeled myself from the screen, dried my hands off, and walked naked into her room.

Her closet was an absolute disaster. There were at least a dozen shoe boxes, camera cases, and clothes everywhere. I was just about to give up when my curiosity took over. Now I never snooped through her stuff, but I was feeling very mischievous at the time. So I knelt down on the floor, my little ass waving in the air as I rummaged through her belongings.

Even after I found a box of blank floppies, I continued to look through the boxes. I was amazed at the things she kept. There were entire boxes filled with receipts and fortune cookie fortunes from that little Chinese takeout place we always ordered from. There were boxes of pictures of us together, playing at the park with Mark and Danny. Then, underneath a pile of sweaters, was this briefcase. I thought it was rather odd since I never saw her carry one, let alone this one. I tried to pop the locks open, but it was locked with a combination. I shook it a few times and could tell there was something in it, and as persistent and goal-oriented as I am, I sat back on the bed, starting with 000, and tried each and every number until the lock popped open. The combinations were the same for both sides…268, Shelly's birth month and year.

My heart raced as I opened the case, beating even faster when I saw its contents. Lying in the bottom were several dildos and vibrators, including one with straps. I picked it up and held it in my hands. The thing was huge. As young and naïve as I was, I was completely flabbergasted. I had seen several pictures of women fucking women with dildos, even strap-ons, but I couldn’t fathom why my Shelly would own one. The pockets held a collection of magazines, but not just any old magazines. These were hard core porn—lesbian porn. As I held the heavy shaft of that silicone cock in my hand, it suddenly became clear. My roommate liked women. I smiled as I recalled her confession of kissing a girl at summer camp. At the time, I thought she was telling me that she just experimented once or twice. Now, I was seeing Shelly in a whole new light.

I looked down at the dildo. I’m not sure why it didn’t occur to me before, but I was suddenly aware that this cock I was holding was my best friend’s. It had been inside her. She masturbated with it; fucked herself with it. I know the thought should have repulsed me, but it didn’t. Instead, in turned me on immensely, images of her face racing through my mind. I brought it to my nose, smelling it, expecting to smell her, but it only smelled of rubber and soap. I was disappointed to say the least.

Putting it aside, I grabbed the magazines and thumbed through them. They weren’t all that different from ones I had seen before, mostly younger women in rather provocative poses, but just knowing they belonged to my roommate made it naughty…taboo, and that made it all the more exciting to me.

Behind it was a lockbox. I had seen it before. I remember asking her what was in it and she just told me “important papers.” At the time, I took that to mean birth certificates, resumes, tax documents, and things like that. But now, curiosity had taken its hold on me. I turned the numbers on the dial, trying 2-6-8 first. That didn’t work, but 2-1-68 sure did. At first, I was disappointed. There were a few floppy disks and a few documents, mostly letters. But as I picked up the letters, I saw several Polaroid pictures under them, pictures of an older girl about Shelly's age and a younger one about my age. Others had Shelly in them as well. Even more striking was the fact that all of them were naked, and in several of them, they were touching each other. Oh hell! Why mix words? My best friend was fucking them, fucking and licking them both. And they were the hottest pictures I had ever seen.

After examining each and every picture quite closely, I turned my attentions to the letters. I noticed the envelopes were addressed to Shelly, but the address was a post office box. My heart raced as I pulled the first out. I went through each and every sentence, every single word of that letter. It was so beautifully written, expressing a love that was so sincere that even I could feel it. I learned the older woman in the picture’s name was Nicole. The younger one was her roommate, Natalie. I counted another dozen letters, the postmarks dating back almost two years. It was getting late, so I decided to put the letters back, knowing I didn’t have time to go through them all.

I had a thousand thoughts racing through my mind when I stood back and walked back to my computer. I sat down, looking at the pictures, but not really seeing them. Images of Shelly kept popping up. They weren’t sexual thoughts of her; they were just things she said to me over the years that were making more sense now. Most of them were comments she made about her dad and about their relationship, as well as her relationships with men. She was always talking about sex with guys, but I never knew her to have a boyfriend, or have one call. Oh my God, how did I miss that!

My thoughts were interrupted by the familiar ring of the telephone, signaling Shelly's nightly call. I stood up and walked to the kitchen to grab the phone. As I heard her voice, I became increasingly aware of my nudity. It wasn’t uncommon for me to walk around the house naked when no one was home, or even walk out after a shower with just a towel wrapped around my head. Still, as I stood there naked on the phone, I felt like she knew, like she could see me. Maybe it was because I felt guilty for snooping, exposing her secrets; perhaps it was because I felt so close to her. Whatever it was, I felt much more exposed than I ever had before.

“Is everything okay? Are the boys giving you any trouble?” she asked.

“No, they haven’t even been inside all day. To be honest, I didn’t even realize it was 7:00 until you called. I haven’t even started dinner yet,” I confessed. “How’s the conference going? Having a lot of fun?”

“Oh, long and boring. It’s like going to school with a bunch of people you don’t know. I’d much rather be home with you.”

For once, I detected the deceit in her voice. I knew exactly where she was, and it wasn’t a conference. I wanted to tell her it was alright, that she didn’t have to lie to me. I wanted to tell her that I understood. I just didn’t know how.

“I love you, Sweetie. And if you want to stay an extra day or two, we’ll be fine. You deserve it. You deserve the time away, enjoying yourself.”

“Don’t be silly. Why on Earth would I want to stay in a hotel any longer than I have to?” she asked, the confusion in her voice mixed with an equal part apprehension.

“Because you deserve the vacation. You deserve the time away to just relax and enjoy yourself,” I answered.

“I may just take you up on it,” she replied.

Smiling, I told her, “Please do,” and told her goodbye. I picked up the phone and ordered a pizza before heading back to my room to get dressed and clean up. Usually, I would return to my porn right after my shower—that night I didn’t. Instead, I lay in bed thinking about my friend. I felt sorry for her. Before, I couldn’t stop thinking about my own sexuality, now I couldn’t stop thinking of hers. I realized all the issues that had been plaguing me for the past several months had tormented her for years, perhaps longer. Then I started thinking about where she was, what she was doing. Finally, she was getting a chance to enjoy herself, to explore, to be herself without judgment. I was so happy for her, and I didn’t want it to end for her just because she had to come back home. I fell asleep contemplating exactly how I would let her know.

I woke up to the sound of paws clawing at the door. Reluctantly, I got out of bed and let Mark and Danny out. That was usually Shelly's job and as much as I hated getting up when I supposed to be on Spring Break, I really didn't mind taking care of them for her. They really were sweet little guys. Besides, after they ate, the preferred spending their day outside lounging by the pool anyway. Ordinarily, a refreshing swim would sound good, but I was already wet. After feeding them and letting them out, I made sure all of the doors were secure and the blinds closed.

My next stop was the laundry hamper, gathering up the clothes before taking them out to the laundry room. I couldn't spend the entire week masturbating; I had to at least do some housework. I threw some detergent and bleach in the washer and set the cycle to hot, then started loading the dirty towels. I then went through the dirty clothes, separating them, throwing the whites into the washer. My heart nearly stopped when I saw a pair of Shelly's panties lying in the basket. I had never thought about them before. I picked them up, holding them in my fingers, marveling at how soft they were, despite wearing nearly identical panties. “Snap out of it, she’s your best friend!” I scolded myself aloud before throwing them in the washer.

I then went to clean up the kitchen, which thanks to the pizza the night before, was of short order. After picking up trash around the house, I ran the vacuum cleaner over the floor, making sure to leave tracks across the carpet. I finished up in Shelly's bedroom. I unplugged the vacuum, wrapping up the cord with my eyes fixated on her closet. For once, I didn’t even think about my computer or my magazines.

As soon as I put the vacuum away, I peeled my t-shirt up and over my head. I slid my panties off too, tossing them both in my room before heading to Shelly's closet. With my juices trailing down my inner thighs, I knelt to the floor, heading straight for those two boxes. Popping the locks, I pulled everything out, and then lay down on her bed, surrounded by her magazines, her letters, and her toys. As I lay there, smelling her pillow, her scent still on it, I reminisced about her holding me a few short days before, comforting me as we watched some stupid movie on TV. I missed her so much, but was glad she wasn’t home.

I organized the letters by their dates; then pulled out the first letter. It was written just shy of two years earlier. It started out innocently enough. From what I deduced, Shelly had met Nicole at a nurse’s convention in Dallas. Apparently, they had gotten pretty drunk and wound up sleeping together. I could sense the pain in her letter. She confessed that she had thought about women her entire life, but Shelly was the first, and she couldn’t stop thinking about her. Tiny water spots decorated the pages. I couldn’t tell if they were Nicole’s or Shelly's, but I suspected they were a mixture of the two, as I was adding a few new ones of my own.

The next couple of letters were more of the same. It was clear that Shelly had written her back, and apparently they had talked on the phone a few times. Long-distance was extremely expensive back then or I’m sure they would have been talking daily. While it was obvious she still missed her immensely, the tone was much happier, especially on the fifth letter when she related her excitement that Shelly had planned another visit, this time just to see her.

The next letter talked a lot about how wonderful it was to see her again, to make love to her. But reading further, she mentioned that she thought her roommate knew. I learned then that her roommate, and best friend, was 18 and “certainly not stupid.” She said Natalie had been avoiding her and been very quiet and she feared she realized Nicole was a lesbian and didn’t approve. Once again, I could feel her agony, this inner conflict between living for herself and living a lie for the sake of those she loved. It was obvious that she loved Natalie and didn’t want to hurt her, and my tears were once again flowing.

The next letter sounded very veiled. Apparently something huge had happened and she had called Shelly to talk about it. All I could really get out of it was that she was happy and relieved. It wasn’t until the next letter that I fully understood. I learned Nicole had had a very long talk with Natalie and admitted her feelings for Shelly. She was happy because her friend was okay with it but was jealous of Shelly because she felt like a third wheel. Natalie told her she just wasn’t used to sharing her, but would have to learn to deal with it. Nicole said she was going out of her way to spend quality time with her and that their relationship was stronger than ever.

It was a letter written last October that really got my attention. Shelly had gone to another “conference” the week before and Nicole said she hadn’t been able to sleep since she left. “Every time I close my eyes, it takes me back to Saturday night,” she wrote. “I keep seeing her in the doorway, watching us. I keep remembering how I ran after her to talk to her. I keep hearing her words, telling me how she felt, how she was jealous of you, and why. And then I think about Sunday night, the look in her eyes when I led her to our room, how wonderful it was to share my lover with her, how wonderful it was it share her with you.”

I read that part over and over again, so many times I have it memorized, not just the words, but every stroke of the pen. I was mesmerized by it. I had read hundreds, if not thousands of stories on the bulletin boards and in magazines, which would spell out every explicit detail, often involving extremely kinky and taboo encounters. But none of them were as erotic to me as those words. I closed my eyes imagining it, using their pictures to facilitate the imagery, augmented by my own wicked imagination. 

The final letters talked mostly about how close Natalie and Nicole had become. She told Shelly how much they both missed her and how they couldn’t wait to see her again. But there was something else. Nicole thanked Shelly for sending her my pictures. She told her how beautiful I was and how it was easy to see why she never stopped talking about me. But the line that really stuck out was her telling Shelly, my best friend, that she hoped one day that she would have the kind of relationship with me that she really wanted and that she would “be as happy sharing you with Becky as you are sharing me with Natalie.”

You know how some things, no matter how obvious they are, you just can’t believe? I read over that line over and over trying to come up with a rational explanation, something, anything that would make more sense than the obvious. It’s not that I didn’t want it to be true. Oh, God no! I never wanted anything to be truer. I was afraid that I was wrong. I read her words several more times, then picked up Shelly's dildo and rammed it deep inside of me, fucking every ounce of doubt right out of me.

My clean up wasn’t as meticulous this time; I knew I’d be back the next day going through everything again. I simply threw everything back into the boxes and pushed them back in her closet. I didn’t even bother to clean her dildo off. I did take a shower, which was a mistake. I just couldn’t resist rubbing myself again, despite my clit being nearly rubbed raw.

It was so hard to focus the rest of the night. Mark and Danny kept fighting with each other, which was probably no more than usual but they were sure annoying the hell out me. My mother called and asked me what was wrong, noting that I seemed distracted. I told her I just had a lot on my mind. She asked me if I had more girl troubles, which caught me off-guard. I just didn’t know how to answer. My hesitation prompted her to ask me who she was. She was the only one that knew about me and Jennifer, the only one who besides Jennifer who knew my secret. I told her I couldn't tell her right now, but she was someone special. Somehow I got the feeling she already knew.

“Fair enough,” she replied, “I’ll talk to you next week, but eventually I want to hear all about it young lady.”

“Okay, mom. Love you,” I told her, hanging up the phone.

The receiver had barely hit those little pegs when the phone was ringing again, scaring the hell out of me. I don't know why I was shocked to hear Shelly's voice, but I was.

"Hey, I've been trying to call for the last 30 minutes. Who the hell have you been having phone sex with?" She tried to sound mad; it was just one of her things, but I was sure she really had been calling for the last 30 minutes. We didn't have call waiting then. Hell, we didn't even have a cordless phone. So it wasn't the faux anger in her voice that got me flustered, it was hearing the word sex in Shelly's voice.

"Uh, uh, nothing. It was my mother," I said, barely able to speak.

"Well send her my love. Listen, thank you so much for taking care of Danny and Mark and convincing me to stay here another day. God, I really needed that. You don't know how much I needed it. But I really can't stay anymore. I have to be back at work on Saturday night and I really need some time to just relax. I'll be home about 5, OK?"

I heard her, but the words took a while to register. I didn't snap out of it until she called my name three or four times. "Yeah, I'll be here. You be careful driving back."

It didn’t give me much time to prepare, but for once, I knew just what to do.

To be continued…

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