"Sexual Harassment"

There was the buzz of young female voices, their overlapping chatter reduced to a melodic white noise by the acoustics of the showers. It was impossible to make out what any one girl was saying, but the overall tone was one of excitement or even nervous wonder. They were all gathered by the showers' entryway, looking out into the locker room at some unseen figure. Their tittering died down, and finally they parted, allowing the new arrival entrance to the washroom.

For a few seconds I had direct line of sight of this unknown figure, framed by wet girl flesh and veiled by steam. I couldn't make out her face, only the general shape of her figure. And there was something else... was she wearing a bottom? Wait... was that...?

It was a strap-on. Just like Kathy had warned me about only a few minutes earlier. She noticed my intent stare over and past her shoulder, and turned to see what I was looking at.

"What... oh jeez, not again," she turned back to me, still shampooing my scalp, but first shooting me a subtle disapproving shake of her head with a long sigh.

"What's going on over there?" Tori asked, looking up at me from beneath Kay's legs, my sud covered cock dancing in her hands.

The strap-on wearing figure approached a group of five or six girls, who until she'd appeared had been washing each others backs in a circle. Now they all meekly washed themselves, avoiding the interlopers gaze up and down their glistening wet naked bodies. After considering them for a moment, the figure apparently thought better of her options and moved on to better prey. She passed through them, dividing them, the group of girls giving her long plastic cock the wide berth that so far nobody has given my own flesh and blood one. Perhaps it was the size that was intimidating, at least a foot long by my estimation, inky black rubber. She groped at a couple of their breasts as she passed, but they paid her pawing no mind.

"Stay down there out of sight," Kay whispered to Tori, as the latter continued working my hard-on like a piston. "...They seem to go after the underclassmen," my friend explained.

The strap-on festooned student was headed our way. Surely she hadn't heard my compatriots? But no, she stopped in the dead middle of the tiled room, and scanned her potential prey. I averted my eyes as her gaze drifted our way, pretended to be really absorbed with what the blonde freshmen was doing below my waist. Honestly I didn't have to pretend hard.

"You there," the girl's voice rang out loudly, echoing off the ceramic walls and floor. "Get over here and help me wash."