The cost of housing was unacceptably high... astronomically high for a new college kid. I had tried one "reasonable" apartment a mile or so from the charming Eastern Campus with its ivy-covered stone buildings. It was reasonable only because the slumlord couldn't get anyone to live there (I subsequently learned). After a week's battle, trying to clean up the place, I'd given up. The rancid and rotten smells were ingrained deep in the decay of the building. I gave up and bought a mobile home. They called them "trailers" in those days.
Dolores, my wife and I, both college students, came to enjoy those cramped quarters, for they were light and clean and more, they were ours. That summer, she'd invited an "aunt" to visit us as she was passing through on her way to "spend some time in Spain." As I understood it, this lady - Dorothy was her name - was the aunt of my wife's sister-in-law. Despite the remote connection, they were friends and I'd come to feel a real affection for her, so it was no more than a minor bother to have her stay with us for a week or so.
Dorothy was thirty-something, a few pounds over weight, and filled with a lust for living life. She had an easy-going acceptance of people and a delightful, sassy way of putting them at ease. Often she'd toss off some sexy remark and then make eye contact with me, eyes squinted with her laughter.
The second evening we were sitting in front of a large floor fan that was blowing over a bowl of ice. There'd been scant relief from the humid scorcher of a day and we were all lightly dressed. Perhaps copying my wife's relaxed appearance, I was aware that Dorothy's sleeveless top was damp with perspiration and clinging to her ample, braless breasts. At one point, my wife had caught my eye and with her's, gestured toward Dorothy's prominent nipples. I grinned at her in acknowledgment, for our's was a easy and relaxed relationship and I appreciated her silent permission for me to ogle her lady friend.
Our bedroom was in the very back, just aft of the bathroom. Forward of that was a "middle room," actually a wide-spot in the hall-way containing a bunk bed. Dorothy had been curled up on her made-up bed reading a novel and, on the way to john, I'd stopped a moment to chat. As our conversation lengthened, I sat on the edge of her bed and soon was sitting against the opposite wall, comfortable in our relationship.
"I've got to clean up," she announced, "I'm meeting Dolores for tennis." Without waiting for me to leave, she swung off the bed and rounded the corner into the bathroom, still talking to me.
The "bathroom" was a pretentious name for the large closet that held a too-small tub, a toilet and a sink. Across the tub was a shower curtain whose main job, it had evolved, was to serve as an indoor drying rod for lingerie. I'd become quite used to my wife's dainty things drying there, but since Dorothy's arrival the day before, I was presented with a new collection of undergarments... brief, lacy things. 36-D the cut-away bra said and the panties I found there that morning were very brief with French-cut, high sides... long before they'd become fashionable.
The walls were thin in that trailer. I accepted that she could hear me and Dolores making love at night. Dolores was not quiet in her passion. Too, I was aware of the usual "bathroom sounds" of the two woman. One has to adapt to the forced intimacy of trailer living or go bonkers. I wasn't surprised when she continued the conversation, she in the bathroom and me still on her bed.
From my vantage, sitting on her bed, facing down the hall toward the bathroom, I could see her clothes flying out the door, landing in a heap on the floor outside the bathroom.
Our easy chatting was interrupted by the shower. I sat there, imagining in my mind, this attractive woman soaping her breasts in my shower. How I'd like to watch her, I thought... How I'd like to see if the color of her pubic hair was as light brown as the hair on her head. Atop the pile of her clothes, I saw another pair of her panties, rumpled. Would they carry her scent, I wondered?
"Well, will you?" her voice brought me back with a start.
"I'm sorry. Didn't hear you. Will I what?"
A flash of light caught my attention. It was on the wall separating her bunk bed from the bathroom and I suddenly remembered that a long-empty screw hole was on that wall. When I'd first noticed it, I saw that it afforded a peep-hole view into the bathroom.
Now, I'm not at all averse to peeping. I've always accepted that I had some voyeur in me, but I'd never had an opportunity to use it before this. I knew it was risky, for she knew I was there and we were only a few feet apart. I suppose that risk added to the thrill.
"Will you show me around the campus tomorrow?" she asked. It suddenly dawned on me that I was hearing her so clearly because she'd not pulled the pocket door closed. She must be drying herself in the tub. Dare I peek?
"Uh, sure... be glad to." I answered as I knee-walked across the bed and pressed my eye to the hole. At first I saw only the mirror directly across from me and then she stepped into view, a towel around her head and vigorously rubbing herself with another.
"Oh, good. Dolores is going to be ensconced in the library tomorrow she said. We can get to know each other," she added.
'I know how I'd like to get to know you', I thought.
She was standing with her back to me. I could see all of her back side to a point below the full swell of her hips and prominent buttocks. Reflected in the mirror was a wonderful view of her large breasts, both from the sides and from the reflected front... She paused for a moment and leaned forward, inspecting some invisible spot on her tit, and then said, "S'cuse me a minnit... gotta go."
I heard the door slide closed and in the next moment I'd slid off the bed and picked up her panties, holding them to my nose. The fragrance of her was strong, mixed with the unmistakable musky smell of her pussy. Knowing she was naked on the other side of that door, hearing her peeing and smelling her panties, I suddenly sported an intense woodie! God, I was horny!
Dropping her underpants, I scurried back to my vantage point. Sitting on the toilet right on the other side of my peep hole, she was too low for me to look at directly, but the large mirror over the sink gave me a marvelous view of her front.
My puzzler doesn't work well when I'm horny. Perhaps the blood drain? Anyway, my witty conversation was reduced to me asking, "You have a boyfriend?"
"What?" she asked in a loud voice. "A boyfriend? Hardly... but I do have a couple a men friends... nothing serious. Why?"
"Don'no... just curious," I said.