Translated beauty

A charming girl with a perfect, flawless figure transferred to the sports college. The guys started introducing her to all the offices, buildings, and the large territory of the sports college, and finally showed her the huge indoor pool located far from the college building, explaining along the way that to the left of the entrance is the women's locker room for girls, and ten steps down the corridor to the right is the men's, for guys, and at the end of the corridor is the pool.

I was self-conscious, embarrassed to shower in a crowd because of my quick excitability—when my cock was brushed against in the jostle, it would immediately assume an unyielding combat stance at a full 22 cm, and the erection wouldn't subside for a long time,

— and the guys would mockingly grab it; dodging or shielding myself from the crowd was useless, so I would leave to wash up a couple of minutes before the bell, knowing that the guys would still be playing water polo or diving from the tower for about five more minutes after the bell.

The new girl also hurried to the shower right after the bell to avoid crowding with the other girls, remembering that to the left of the entrance is the locker room for girls—but she confused the corridor entrance from the street with the entrance from the gym hall. In the locker room, she took off her wet swimsuit, threw it into a cubby on the rack, and humming a cheerful tune, headed to the showers. I, having finished washing, headed to the locker room—but hearing her approaching voice, I started looking for a place to hide and saw a freshly painted utility closet in the corner (for mops, brushes, buckets), which were absent due to the painting. I jumped in, closing the door behind me and holding onto the latch from the door handle.

Although the paint didn't transfer onto my wet body, the touch felt like sticking to a solid bandage covering the entire wall with my butt, so I tried not to touch it. The new girl, having gotten wet under the shower, noticed a bottle of shampoo on the shelf—generously pouring it over herself, she began lathering up, covering herself completely in foam, and just as she was about to step back under the shower, she heard the approaching crowd of guys—she needed to hide urgently, but where...

and noticing the closet in the corner—she rushed in with a running start, pressing her ample butt into my lower abdomen and pushing me into the painted back wall of the closet. Completely exhaling, she squeezed in and with difficulty closed the door, turning the latch.

From her body pressed against mine—especially her buttocks—my cock pressed between her soap-slick thighs, and with its unyielding erection, began pressing against her perineum, the tip pushing against her clitoris. When faced with two problems, you choose the lesser—to panic and jump out to 20 naked guys—or to stay pressed against one. My heart was drumming fast and loud, audible even without a stethoscope. Through my cock, I distinctly felt the strong pulsation of her labia and femoral arteries. Besides the soapy foam, slippery, hot love juices from her vagina began flowing onto my cock. We couldn't move to free ourselves from the cock pressing on her perineum..."

The guys fooled around in the shower for a long time and were in no hurry to leave.

Simultaneously, an orgasm, arousal, anxiety, and a sense of fear were building up in us—indescribably off the charts. At all costs, we had to suppress moans during the orgasm and not make any movements. Despite a very intense orgasm—we went unnoticed. The guys, having had their fill of mischief, left after about 40 minutes. It felt like an eternity had passed.

After the last one left the locker room—the new girl waited another minute, listening to the silence—to finally make sure no one was left there. With great effort, she barely managed to open that latch she had closed in panic. In the remnants of the flowing foam, she ran to the locker room—without even rinsing off under the shower.

I waited in the closet while she quickly got dressed and dashed out of the locker room. Coming out of the closet, I looked at the imprint of her buttocks, back, and shoulder blades on the fresh paint of the back wall, as well as the pattern on the door—of her breasts, nipples, stomach, navel, and her thighs—the picture was simply awesome!!!

Then I trudged to the shower, calmly washed up, and trudged home.

Since then, during full-fledged sex, I have never experienced such a storm and intensity of emotions and orgasm.