Skin Deep, Iris 2

Iris closed the bathroom door firmly behind her. To her surprise, the bathroom - complete with a garish red hot tub - was brilliantly lit. Her bladder made itself known and for a second she considered using the bidet next to the toilet. The penis-shaped spout in the base of the bowl hit a little too close to home, though. The last thing she needed, Iris scowled, was a watery replay of being hit with cumshots.  Instead she squatted over the toilet and emptied her bladder, hissing from the slight burn she felt.

There were complementary slippers nearby but if the deep indentations in the insoles were any indication, they had been used many times already. The sink and toilet had seen better days and Iris regretted the management's decision not to go with the shadowy lighting of the rest of the establishment. Gingerly she moved about the bathroom. The state of the hotel's amenities shouldn't have been her main concern, she acknowledged. No, the skinny white stranger in the next room deserved that honor. But Iris could not really think about him until she washed the stickiness from her thighs and pubic hair. 

And face. 

She peered through the door of the glass shower stall. It was the most modern thing in the entire suite, with its triple shower heads, small porcelain bench in the corner, and handles attached to the tiled walls. A small mound of wet towels lay in the corner surrounded by at least 12 half-filled bottles of lubricants and assorted body lotions. Iris didn't remember showering with the white boy, but based on what she did vaguely recall, it was entirely possible that they had been the ones to put such a dent in that supply of oils and lotions. She placed one foot inside the shower and nearly fell. The shower floor was coated with a slick substance that dripped from her upraised foot. "Shit!" A stream of other curse words flew from her lips as she forcefully cleaned her foot on the used slippers. "Fuck this shower," Iris cursed. She was no prude but she couldn't think of anything less appealing than standing around in what was possibly somebody else's cum. 

So, tub it would be. At least she could count on the heat from the water killing whatever germs would certainly be found there. Running the water as hot as it would go, Iris waited only long enough for the tub to fill with about six inches of water before climbing in. She knew from experience that it was easier to adapt to the heat in stages. Still she grimaced as she lowered her sore body into the steaming water. 

Shit. Her ass hurt. Yet another thing she had to try and remember from her mystery time with the unknown white boy. She had only had anal sex twice before: once with a childhood friend who had been very happy to help her lose her virginity days before prom, and then again with Craig, who had been so surprised that she agreed that he hopped out of bed and returned with a box full of bizarrely-shaped things whose purpose Iris could only guess. 

Absently she began to wash her body. She wondered just what the fuck she'd been a part of. Her pussy was beat up, her ass hurt, and there were bite marks all over her titties and thighs. Unfortunately there was only one way to find out what happened. A conversation with the white boy would have to take place, Iris frowned. She wasn't thrilled by the idea. Not because she was ashamed of whatever kinky shit had gone down between them; he'd apparently been right there with her step by step. No, Iris hated the thought that the best sex she'd ever had (even the little she could remember) would be thanks  to a skinny white stranger who was horrified by the very thought of being with her. Sighing, she dried herself with one of the hotel's stolen towels and then wrapped it about her as well as she could. Just as deliberately she shrugged on the protective armor she had worn most of her life. The sooner she had a conversation with the white boy, the sooner they could go their separate ways. 

Iris stepped out of the bathroom and stopped. Her mystery bedmate stood naked in front of the window, his long, erect dick jutting upward. His mind seemed miles away. As Iris opened her mouth to gain his attention, the white boy reached down and wrapped his fist around his dick and began to stroke absently. In and out he thrust, occasionally pausing to slide back the uncut foreskin that covered the head of his dick like a cap.

"You just nasty, ain't you?"

The biting insult startled him. White boy's head whipped around as though he was surprised by Iris' presence. "This isn't… I wasn't…"

Iris rolled her eyes. "The shower is free," she informed him. "And there is plenty of cold water waiting for you. Make sure you use it. Pervert."

For the first time since they awakened together, the white boy showed a flash of fire. "Look here." He closed the distance between them until they were nearly nose to nose. A single step forward and Iris knew that she would feel the heat of his hard dick pressed against her. "I've had enough of you making me the bad guy in whatever this is," he bit out. Iris was distracted from whatever else the white boy said next. She smirked as she wondered what would happen if she just reached out and gave his dick a hard yank.  She bet he would shut the fuck up then. 

"…one another ever again." White boy turned and stalked angrily toward the bathroom. Iris watched silently until he was a single step away from the doorway. "You know," she didn't try to hide the amusement in her voice, "all that shit you just said woulda really shut me up if your ass hadna been hanging out while you was saying it."

End Notes: Darryl Pine - Daniel GilliesDarryl Pine

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