Making a Woman of Him Ch. 03

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Chester gets a lesson in cleaning.
5.3k words
4.41
33.8k
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Part 3 of the 17 part series

Updated 11/02/2022
Created 02/19/2014
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ElRoylk
ElRoylk
330 Followers

He had arrived mid-day on Friday. It was now Saturday evening and he considered his situation. Because of all the fuss yesterday, his schedule was in complete ruin. He had tried to make up for it today, and thankfully, for whatever reason, he hadn't been called upon to do any specific chores.

Either Saturday was quiet, or the women responsible for the chores had forgotten to delegate them to him. He didn't count the clean up at the meals and he hadn't been expected to cook. Apparently they didn't think of that as "cleaning." Several had stopped by to say hello, peeking into Wendy's room and chatting briefly. He had dressed in casual slacks and white blouse with a small bra to fill it out; conservative. He didn't want to create any more scenes if he could avoid them.

He was told to stay on the Council floor at all times, unless he was exiting or taking meals. That was fine with him -- he didn't need to call any more attention to himself with the rest of the women in the house. His penis was a little uncomfortable, uncomfortable in a way that made him think this was a Monday. He had been very careful for over three years now to only relieve himself once a month, and always on a Sunday night. As a rule, the next day was always a little uncomfortable, but today was more so than usual.

It wasn't too surprising, given how the women had practically attacked him the previous night on top of Corrine the previous afternoon.

In addition to waking with an erection, an event he noted only on Mondays after relieving himself, there was a slight pain inside - a small throbbing - that appeared every once in a while. Each time it called itself to his attention, Chester felt a fleeting moment of shame and humiliation. He knew he wasn't "bad" for being a boy and having these urges, but he always felt a little pang of guilt even as the burst of momentary pleasure overwhelmed him.

He had carefully worked out his scheduled releases so that he didn't wake in the middle of the night all wet and sticky. Once per month seemed to be the minimum necessary, and he could choose the means and method to avoid creating a mess. He would never have allowed the ejaculate to spray hither/thither onto the floor. Usually, he lay in his bed with a proper tissue that could be flushed away.

His thoughts returned to his homework. Mostly he had caught up, except for a review of the articles in the Poly Sci class. He put away the math book and associated work sheets, careful to place his spiral notebook in its prescribed pouch in his backpack where he could expect to find it on Monday, and took out the PS assignment. It was mostly a review of the writings leading up to the Magna Carta, stuff he could almost recite by rote from his high school AP course years before.

Within the hour he completed the review, packed it up and prepared to get ready for bed. He wondered if he would be faced with a similar assault in the bathroom again this evening. There was nothing for it except to go about his routine and try to make the best of it. Maybe they were all too distracted by their parties or boyfriends or whatever to pay attention to him.

He carefully undressed, placing the dirty things in the clothes hamper, hanging the clothes he could wear a second time on their hangers and grabbed his toiletry bag. He reached for the robe unconsciously and then stopped. He looked at the clock -- 10:30; past rush hour. But they had said he had to hang it on the door no matter when. The thought of being caught naked in the bathroom again filled him with mixed emotions: a weird sense of arousal combined with humiliation. If there were any women in the room, they would likely stare. They seemed so obsessed with his peter! He folded the robe over his arm, prepared to leave the room naked as the day he was born.

He entered the hallway, somewhat self-consciously, expecting at any moment to be accosted by one of the senior women. He walked quickly to the bathroom, his penis swinging from side to side, the motion causing the slight pain from yesterday's attention. The feeling of Corrine's hand forcing him to ejaculate was immediately overwhelmed by the humiliation of Roxie masturbating him in front of the rest of the women.

Replaying the prior evening's events for the umpteenth time, he wondered what it was about Catherine that gave him a jolt. Even now, as he walked into the bathroom, he realized he was growing slightly, the pendulum swing of his peter slowed somewhat by his mushrooming erection.

He felt a mixture of relief and disappointment upon entering the deserted bathroom. It was much better to not be bothered at all, and for that he was very relieved. But if he was to be bothered, he thought a little shamefully, it would be much nicer to be bothered the way the women bothered him as opposed to the men. No rat-tails on his naked butt, no cat-calls and jeers as he walked down the hall and no crude references to what the women were all too happy to notice were excellent choices in clothing. He looked down to see the robe draped across his arm and returned to the hall to hang it up. Still no one to be seen.

Completing his toilette with absolutely no molestation, he returned to his room, slightly deflated. He recognized the symptoms: he was tired, and no doubt so much loss of semen in so short of time was contributing to the mild depression. It surely wasn't healthy to lose that much vital fluid. He picked his favorite silk pajamas, grabbed the latest novel on the stack and slipped into his sheets for a long night's rest. Maybe being in the women's house was going to work out okay.

* - * - * - *

He awoke fairly early for a Sunday; he wasn't used to the sun streaming into the windows, and he was surprised to find himself erect for the second day in a row. It was surely a sign of ill health. The over-stimulation by the women on Friday was likely the culprit. He hoped he could get through a second day without further humiliation.

He grabbed his towel and toiletry bag, remembering the prescription of taking his robe. He kept his pajamas on while he made his way to the bathroom, first to eliminate and then for a much needed shower. He felt grimy, like he had sweated during the night, although he couldn't remember anything in particular to cause night sweats. His forehead was cool, so he wasn't getting sick. He hung the robe on the outside of the bathroom, saw it was empty and quickly stripped out of the PJs.

As he closed the door to the stall he heard someone else padding in. He hated eliminating with others in the room so he made sure to aim the stream at the side of the bowl to be more discrete. Before he had finished, he heard the shower running and the curtain being pulled closed.

He flushed and made his way to another shower.

"Is that you Chester?" It was Genielle.

"Yes," he said loud enough he hoped for her to hear but not so loud he would be heard outside in the hall.

"I thought so. No one else I know pees standing up around here. It's Sunday, yeah?" She poked her head out and looked at him. Her hair was filled with lather. He noticed her eyes scanning his body. It made him blush a little. "There you go again turning pink. Damn you're the pinkest person I've ever met. Anyway, it's Sunday. Sunday is my day to clean the showers. I was hoping you'd help me with that." She pulled her head back in and left him wondering what to do next.

He figured he might as well get started now. He opened the cleaning supplies closet they had pointed out to him Friday night and found what he hoped would be enough equipment: gloves, a scrub brush, and the cleaning fluid. He walked back to one of the empty showers turning on the water as he usually did to begin his washing routine.

"Hey, Chester! Watcha doing out there?"

"I was going to clean the showers, Genielle. I thought I'd get started on this one as you are already using that one."

"Forget that shit. I need to make sure you do it right. Get your little pink ass in here!"

He shut off the water and looked a little confused. The showers were pretty small and he wasn't sure how he would be able to clean one while it was occupied.

He stepped up to her shower and pulled back the curtain slightly. "Is there enough room for two of us?"

"Hell, yes. Get in here. Forget everything but the brush and that spray bottle. Genielle will see to it you clean these showers the way they're supposed to be."

He stepped in, his arm brushing against her breast. Her nipple trailed across his skin. He shivered at the image of Yvette rising unbidden from his memory. He shook his head to clear it and tried to avoid the touch of her nipple as he squeezed passed her. There was just enough room for the two of them as long as she stayed under the shower head. He turned away from her, a little embarrassed at being so close. Why would Yvette pop up? He was distracted by her memory.

"Okay, Chester, here's what you do. You start at the top of the corner there and work your way down. That stuff is "all natural," they say, so it shouldn't kill us to breathe it, but it does make you scrub a little harder." He hesitated, looking up where she pointed. "Go on, the hot water will be gone."

He sprayed the upper corner and stood on his tiptoes holding the brush up as high as he could reach. He strained his calves and couldn't get good leverage to brush very hard. Standing almost half a head shorter than her, there was no way he could clean the way she normally did without a stool to step on. He realized his buns were straining. At least she couldn't see his peter.

"Oh." She had been rinsing her face and hadn't been paying attention. "You're too short. Well, I'll take care of the high parts. Why don't you get started on where you can reach."

Much happier with the new arrangement, Chester scrubbed starting at eye level. He enjoyed the feeling of moving his muscles, of working the unseen colonies of bacteria off the wall. It wasn't long before he had scrubbed to the base and continued on the floor. Kneeling as he backed up, he bumped into her, the touch of her thighs against his shoulders made him jump. He was getting hard again. Before this weekend, he'd never suffered an erection when he cleaned. It was confusing.

"You're doing great, Chester. You really do like to clean. You know, maybe you should hold off on the floor for a minute and work on this side wall here."

He looked up to see her looming over him, her breasts almost hiding her face, her pubic hair at his eyes. He stood up, careful to not touch her too much and continued his work on the wall. It was a little more cramped now, being next to her, with every brush stroke his elbow grazed her breasts.

The steam and water was getting in his eyes making him stop more frequently than he would have liked. As he worked his way down the wall he felt her crowd him, pushing her thighs and hips against him, knocking him a little off balance.

"Hey Chester? How come you shave yourself so much? I've been thinking about your thing there. It's one of the largest I've seen on a white guy, maybe on any guy. Why do you shave him and all?"

It was torture having to talk about himself while she stared at him. He desperately hoped she couldn't see how hard he was getting. "I don't know, Genielle. I guess it feels cleaner to me that way, you know?"

"Cleaner, hmm? You think hair is dirty? Lemme see...wait a second." She stood under the stream, leaning into one bent leg, straightening the other. "Hell yes. Have you ever cleaned a woman properly?"

He swallowed, completely confused by her statement. He stammered and shook his head. He couldn't get the image of Yvette out of his mind. That was different! That wasn't cleaning!

"I thought not. Okay, today, in addition to cleaning the shower you're going to get a proper lesson in cleaning a woman. Now to begin, take that washcloth back there and get it all lathered up."

He reached for the cloth over her shoulder. Her breast rubbed against his chest making him wince. He was bent at the waist, his peter sticking out so far he had to struggle not to touch her pubic hair with it. Taking the soap he frothed the cloth with lather.

"Okay. Y'see, I love my hair, like I said the other night. And I think you will find, after you've cleaned it properly, that you'll like hair too." She raised both hands above her head exposing large tufts of wet black hair under her arms. "Start by scrubbing that mat of hair just as if you were going to rub it off."

He started to push the cloth against her underarm, but she fell away from him. He realized he would have to support her shoulder with the other hand. The thought made him queasy. Pressing into her shoulder while he rubbed under her arm brought more memories of Yvette rushing into his brain. He swallowed and did as she asked trying to ignore the horrible images of what he'd done, rubbing the cloth back and forth raising a lather in her hair.

"That's right, Chester. That's the ticket. Now do the other side, just like the first."

He switched sides, the shower spray blinding him for moment. Working on her body, he couldn't stop thinking about what Yvette had done to him. That was years ago! The first time she had taken a shower with him, the first time he held her; dressing him up-- the impact on his peter was immediate.

"Whoa, Chester! Something is up, my man. You really enjoy cleaning, don't you?"

He blushed, knowing she would tease him.

"There you go again, turning pink. Well, it looks like you got the idea, Chester. That was the practice session. Now for the real cleaning. The hair between my legs gets real dirty and you'll need to work even harder on it."

He hadn't seen it coming. There was no point in protesting, and it let him bury his erection between his legs, away from her skin. He sank to his knees, backing up as close to the wall as he could and, reaching his arm around her waist to provide resistance, he began the same scrubbing motion on her pubic hair. Even though it was sopping wet, it was wiry and wouldn't take a lather. He stopped for a moment to soap up the cloth and returned to the task. As he scrubbed, he tried to imagine how he would know it was time to stop.

"That's it, Chester. Keep it up. Let me help you a little." He felt her hands come down on his shoulders to steady him, pulling him a little closer.

He continued to scrub, moving his hand between her legs to spread the soap all around. Up and out to the top of her mound, back and forth, down and through to her cheeks. He didn't know if he was supposed to wash her there, but then she bent her legs a little giving him more access.

"Yes. Chester, that's it. You need to make sure I'm totally clean. Everywhere."

He kept the motion going for what seemed like an eternity, her words urging him on at first and then drifting to just grunts.

"A little harder, Chester. A little harder, right there. Faster and harder in little circle right there. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes! YES. YES! Keep it coming. YES! YES!" She continued to push her hips at his hands, holding his shoulders while he did what she asked. With all of the water flowing, there wasn't much soap left, but he kept going until she told him to stop.

He looked down, his emotions swirling like the soapy water around the drain. He was tired from the exertion, and alarmed to see how erect he'd gotten. He pulled his hips back a little to hide from her. Too, he smelled a new aroma in the shower, the images of Yvette overwhelming him -- he knew that smell, an animal smell. He wrinkled his nose and closed his eyes.

"Chester. You did good. I think you got most the hair sparkling clean...but there's likely one more thing to clean me up properly. This doesn't require a cloth. Here." She held him in place and pushed her mound towards him, making him turn his nose up to face her. Looking up he could see the bottom of her breasts rising and falling, her nipples silhouetted against the ceiling light.

"Okay, Chester. The only way to properly get that smell out of a woman is with your tongue. I know it smells pretty different from anything you've probably had in the past, but believe me, when you are done, I'll be properly clean. Now, I'm going to press my lips against yours, and you need to stick your tongue as deeply as you can inside me to get all of that smell out."

He panicked for a moment as the water came down on his face, making him sputter, but she rearranged herself, blocking the stream and then she pressed against his lips.

He flashed back to Yvette, holding him in the shower. Why now? He panicked a little; it had been so long and so forgotten. His face was beet red at the upwelling memories. She had instructed him how to do what Genielle was asking, but it had been so long ago. She had been the one to help him understand how different women's bodies were from his; she had made him study her to better understand women's clothes.

His schooling was at the hand of the finest tutors money could buy - sex education was limited to the most basic of plumbing and none of the instruction manuals were nearly as instructive as Yvette had been. The flood of memories, so long repressed, came spilling into his brain, momentarily stopping him.

"That's it, Chester. She won't bite you. And don't you bite me either, buster!"

In spite of his memories of his prior experience doing this horrible act, or maybe because of them, he wasn't any better prepared to stick his tongue between Genielle's legs -- as far as he could tell, a vagina was the second dirtiest part of a woman's body.

He remembered Yvette's smell all of a sudden and it was different from Genielle's now that his nose was right in hers. Hers had smelled of the ocean. This one smelled like hay and barnyard.

She pushed herself onto his mouth and he opened his lips, his tongue emerging. The hair was wiry and thick; he almost gagged at the thought he would be putting her hair in his mouth, but he couldn't back out -- her hands were against the back of his head. Her lips were filmy, at first he thought it might be soap residue, but as he licked them, the salty taste reminded him of Yvette and he knew it was lubrication. The memory of Yvette laughing at him gagging when she told him it was mucous made his stomach lurch.

Genielle held him firmly, pushing his mouth tighter against her open vagina. Slipping his tongue between her thick labia, he explored her, tasting more of her fluid, licking his tongue tip back.

He felt a swollen bump pushing on his upper lip and knew it was her clitoris. He remembered Yvette shoving her fingers against his nose while she forced him to lick her, and he knew she was playing with herself there.

"Push your tongue as deeply as you can inside me, Chester. It's the only way to clean me up." Her hands continued to hold his head, providing no escape.

He plunged his tongue in as far as he could, tasting and feeling the salty fluid. He scooped and pistoned, scooped and pistoned, in and out, her hands helping him find a rhythm she seemed to want. He couldn't hear her anymore, the rush of the water and her thighs against his ears, but he felt his way into and out of her. She seemed to be reaching a crescendo, her hands pressing harder on his head, her hips thrusting into his face until she stopped, spasming, holding him tight and then...a torrent of fluid came into his mouth, spilling around his tongue and lips. He thought he might choke as he tried to swallow and breathe. For a split heartbeat he thought she had peed in his mouth, and then he remembered his own first orgasm...did women have semen, too? This was completely new -- Yvette had never done anything like this, and he began to gag at the thought of what he was swallowing.

ElRoylk
ElRoylk
330 Followers
12