Post sex shower

Steam drifted out the shower into the motel room. The hot water did little to wash away the smell of pussy that seemed baked into my throat. I leaned against the tiled wall, trying to sober up. My head pounded from straight liquor. My nose was clogged from too much pussy.

I blew my nose into the drain and laughed to myself. The snot hung down. “I don’t think I’ll ever smell anything again.”

Maggie laughed from next to me in the shower. “That was insane. Seven girls.”

“It was.”

She smiled, “So much fun.” There was a pause while the water filled the room with white noise. “We should definitely do that again before summer’s over.”

I stared at the tile for a long moment. The question came out before I could stop it. “What if…” She waited. “…what if we didn’t do it with everyone else?”

She looked over, “Yeah we can fuck alone again.”

“I mean…” I shrugged awkwardly. “What if we just… stayed exclusive? Just me and you the rest of the summer.”

“I don’t know.”

“I kind of feel like we’re supposed to find each other. We do fit perfectly together like puzzle pieces.”

For a second she simply blinked. Then she laughed. Not cruelly. Just genuinely surprised “Oh…”

She shook her head. “You’re sweet.”

She stepped closer, her expression softening “You’re a great guy. But camp isn’t real life.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means people come here to have one summer.” She smiled sadly. “I don’t want to promise anyone anything. I don’t want to limit myself.”

The words landed harder than I expected.

Before I could answer, some frat guy shouted her name from somewhere outside the room.

“Maggie!”

She smiled apologetically. “I’ve got to go.”

Without a glance back, she sprinted from the bathroom totally naked and ran toward the guy calling her name.

A second later laughter echoed back through the open doorway. “Babe! You’re getting me all wet.”

“You’re getting me all wet!”

The slap of a hand on wet flesh.

A giggle.

They were gone. It was just me alone in the shower. I stayed where I was another minute.

Cass had tried to tell me. People weren’t looking for the same things. I’d heard her. I just hadn’t believed her.

When I finally exited the shower, it looked like the aftermath of a hurricane.

Empty pizza boxes. Playing cards. Crushed beer cans. Condoms like snake skins. Puke in the trash can. Bras. Panties. Sleeping bags scattered in every direction. The king-sized bed was completely occupied, counselors asleep wherever they’d found space. Others had claimed patches of carpet with spare blankets and pillows.

The room smelled like stale beer, stale cigarette, and the lingering haze of dirty sex.

There wasn’t a bed left. Only a small patch of carpet near the wall. I grabbed a folded blanket, lay down, and stared at the popcorn ceiling. Outside, someone laughed in the parking lot. Inside, everyone else slept peacefully.

For the first time since leaving home, I felt lonelier surrounded by people than I ever had by myself. They cared only about my cock. Not me.