jillin' off in the boys' shower

I could not sleep on a Saturday night. I was an 18-year-old first-year college student itching for something to happen. I was a sexually frustrated billionaire's daughter who had 24/7 personal protection which made me a social loner until my libido kicked in, and I decided to go on a tiny adventure. Erotica for men. (female masturbation).

Excerpt:

I got out of bed. I could not sleep.

It was late Saturday night. Or maybe I should say early Sunday morning.

Everything was quiet.

My roommate had not returned. She was probably staying overnight at her boyfriend's apartment. Or maybe, she got lucky and was staying overnight with someone else. She was the luckiest girl I knew. She was charmed. The universe blessed her repeatedly.

Did I have to use the restroom?

I slipped on my slippers and walked to the dorm room door in the darkness. I turned the doorknob and opened the door. I looked down the hall. It was dark and gloomy. The resident assistant usually turned the lights off after ten so only every third hall light was on. It seemed eerie.

My protection was forbidden to be inside the building unless I called. He was probably sitting in a car in the parking lot, watching. So I didn't want to turn my light on. I didn't want him to know I was awake.

Did I have to pee? I didn't know. And it didn't matter. I was just restless. And in all honesty, I was lonely.

My cup runneth over with loneliness. I felt isolated and unloved. I was unpopular and unhappy.

I grabbed my robe and walked down the hall, listening to the silence and the slide of my slippers.

When I reached the community bathroom, I looked back down where I had come. My room was at the end of the hall right before the exit door. Curiosity filled my mind. I had never come or gone out of that door. I used the elevator like most of the students on the eleventh floor.

I walked into the community bathroom. I didn't have to pee. I walked around. The lights in the bathroom seemed bright coming from the dark hall but the room was just as silent.

I did not want to sleep. I was anxious. Itching for something to happen. I felt that I was missing out. That most other students on a warm Saturday night were out partying. Were out getting laid. But I had been in bed.

I looked at myself in the mirror. Was I a loser? Was I a nerd? Was I a pariah? I needed some excitement. I needed some adventure. I needed some sex.

I wanted someone to kiss me hard. I wanted rug burn. I wanted hickeys. I wanted to be pounded hard as if I were nothing but an awful teasing slut.

I was so lonely!

I walked out of the bathroom and back towards my room. I looked at the exit door as I approached.

I could have a tiny adventure, I thought. I could walk down the exit door stairs. And I smiled to myself with the idea of doing something different for once. Something that was not so safe.

When I reached the exit, I looked through the tiny window in the door. It was dark on the other side.

I slowly opened the door and looked into the stairwell. I saw it wasn't exactly pitch black. The stairway was lit with step lights. They were illuminating rectangles. They were glowing strips at each step. The fluorescent light fixture in the ceiling was off.

Was that normal?

I listened.

Silence.

I was on the top floor, so there was only one direction to go.

Should I do it?

In my mind, most students were either not in their room, asleep (like I wasn't), or having sex.

I was eighteen years old. My first year in college. The world was a big and mysterious place. And I wondered what people did in the very early hours of the day. Were people all over this college town having sex?

I so deeply wanted to know how my roommate was getting laid so often. What secret did she have? Was it because she wasn't watched all the time like I

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