The Dormitory free porn video
We never intended for our college dorm to become clothing-optional. In fact, probably none of us girls would have moved in if we knew in advance that would happen. It just evolved. Our small liberal arts college in the Midwest always prided itself on being, well, liberal. The dorms were made co-ed long before it became common. One dorm room on a floor would have women; the other, men. Men's and women’s bathrooms were separate, but there was only one set of showers, a long room with communal showerheads. There were times when the showers were male-only, then female-only. We respected that, although there were occasional accidents of people walking in on the other sex in the showers around the change-over times. But apologies were made and accepted.
Our story began during the summer session, when in late July the massive air conditioning unit on the roof failed. It was high 90s degrees outside, and hotter inside. We were sweltering, and a new unit, on order, wouldn’t be installed for weeks. Opening the windows brought no relief; it only invited in hot air. People began to dress with fewer clothes. Many of the girls walked around in bra and panties in their rooms, the guys in briefs. It would have been weird to put on clothes to go to the bathroom, so they walked the halls in that skimpy attire. It became commonplace and accepted.
The only real relief from the heat was cold drinks with plenty of ice – and to take cold showers. A few enterprising students took to luxuriating under the cold water in their underwear, and then not toweling off. The evaporation of the water from their bodies and underwear acted as a cooling agent. The idea caught on and soon everyone was doing it. But like in a wet t-shirt contest, the water made the fabric cling to the body. The shape of our breasts, already revealed in a bra, was even more apparent. The panties formed camel-toes. The guys had a similar fate. The shape and size of their penis were outlined in their briefs. The dorm was turning into someone’s fevered dream of a teenage slumber party.
Outdoors, things weren’t much different. We took to lying on the large grassy area outside the dorm in bikinis, the men in swimwear, reading our class assignments, hoping for a passing breeze. We’d spray ourselves with a garden hose, staying wet. But while a breeze usually didn’t appear, other things were stirring. Particularly if a guy and gal were dating, sitting together in wet, clinging swimwear encouraged more than a few embraces, and some bulges appeared among the men.
Everyone baked under the sun, sitting and lying on the grass, reading, drinking, talking and sunbathing. Some girls unhooked their tops as they lay on their stomachs, to avoid tan lines. It had to happen, and a few of the more daring ones rolled over and lay with their breasts exposed. I hadn’t seen that happen before, and I know it was the growing openness of displaying our bodies during the heat wave that caused it. Girls just began to do it, and it didn’t provoke much comment -- at least not from the students. But the college administration took note. And was not happy.
The VP for Administration, Mr. Pritchard, called for a meeting of all dorm residents on a weekday evening. He addressed us. (We were wearing proper clothes, for the occasion.)
“I know the heat’s been overwhelming, and I promise the AC will be repaired soon. But the heat is no excuse for the shocking and irresponsible conduct of some of you. We overlooked the scandalous display of underwear and skin inside the dorm. But public nudity is not permitted. This college is doing more than educating; we’re trying to inculcate values too. This is not a nudist colony. The next student who is found not properly dressed on the lawn, or even in the corridors of the dorm, will face severe disciplinary action. Even expulsion.”
He went on, but we were hardly listening. There was anger among the students. We are adults now, or so we’re told. Don’t we have control over our bodies? Who was being offended? No student complained. The college is outside of town, and even the professors live off-campus. So it’s just us. After the VP finished and left, we students stayed behind. A second meeting took place.
“So what are we going to do?” was the common question. Did we accept this mandate or challenge it? But who was brave enough to face expulsion?
One of the girls, Lisa, always a feisty one, stood up. “Men have for centuries told us women what to do, how to live, what to wear. We’re in the 21st century now. I say we defy them.” And she pulled off her t-shirt. She stood bare-breasted. Everyone cheered.
“I’m with Lisa,” said another girl, and she pulled off her blouse and unhooked her bra. Her breasts spilled out.
The guys looked at each other, and several of them stood. “We’re in.” And they stripped off their shirts and shorts. They stood nude.
There was more cheering. More and more people stood and took off their clothes. Before too long, almost everyone was in some form of undress.
More cheering.
“They can’t expel everyone. If we stick together – or maybe I should say, if we strip together, they’ll be powerless,” said Lisa, now our ring leader.
There was an exhilaration as we laughed and talked together, in the nude. Everyone eyed everyone else. There were no secrets now. Who had the largest or shapeliest breasts. Who shaved down there. Which men were circumcised, which were not. How long were the penises, or how thick. Everyone always secretly makes guesses about the bodies of the opposite sex – and sometimes about the bodies of others of our own sex. Now we filled our eyes with the answers and it was delightful. What had begun, somewhat innocently, with underwear, had morphed into so much more.
Lisa said we needed to plan our defiance. “We’re going to send a message. Saturday, 10 AM. We’re going to meet on the lawn outside the administration building. It’s going to be our Independence Day. Don’t worry about what to wear.”
There was laughter as we knew what she meant. We were emboldened. Young, on our own, even one might say, reckless.
Once we gave ourselves permission, the atmosphere in the dorm changed. Underwear began to seem like overdressing. People walked to and from the showers with just their towels, and sometimes the towels were hung over the shoulder, with the bodies bare. Some of the boys, exhibitionists or just horny devils, took to walking in the corridors in the nude, clearly proud of their equipment dangling for our inspection. And we did inspect. Why not? The boys were enjoying us too. They began using the showers during prescribed “girl” time; that effort at segregation fell like a Montgomery, Alabama lunch counter in the 1960s. No more apologies. Girls and guys showered together at the same time.
We were headed for a confrontation with the college. We knew it -- just the college didn’t. Mr. Pritchard always worked a half-day on Saturday, so he’d be witness to whatever transpired. Lisa and a small committee she formed planned the day. It was to be a party. Food and music. Several volleyball nets were strung. Slip and slide mats, leading into a rubberized pool of water, were laid out.
We all gathered on Saturday at the appointed time. Lisa spoke.
“Robert Frost said that when one comes to a fork in the road, the path taken, or the path not taken, makes all the difference. We reached one of those crossroads when the administration mandated how we, adults, had to act and dress. We’re hurting no one. We can make our own decisions. And I’m making mine. Will you join me?”
With that, she pulled off her top, and stepped out of her shorts and panties. She stood defiantly, proudly, nude. We all followed suit. Most everyone was either nude or topless. There was cheering. And the party started.
Teams formed for volleyball. Breasts and penises bounced and flopped as we swatted the ball. Guys and girls collided with each other, chasing errant volleyballs. Skin on skin only produced merriment and enhanced the visual delight. The slip and slides, coated with water, allowed naked bodies to hurtle forth, not slowed by friction against the fabric of bathing suits. Music blared and couples danced and moved unashamedly. We were having a great time.
Mr. Pritchard, on the other hand, glowered at us from his second-floor window. He knew he was being defied. He also knew that he couldn’t expel the entire student body. (Or should I say, the student bodies?) He either had to start a nuclear war or accept defeat.
He decided on a compromise.
He came down to the party. The music continued to play but everyone stopped dancing when he appeared. He was dressed nicely in his navy blue suit with a lovely tie. We were not dressed at all.
Lisa went up to meet him. He looked her in the eye (not daring to venture his eyes further south).
“I can’t live with the campus becoming a nudist colony. If you’ll agree to keep your clothes on outside, I’ll declare yours an official clothing-optional dorm. Do whatever you want within those walls. Please, just wear clothes outside. OK?” It was not a demand. It was a plea.
Lisa smiled. It’s really what we wanted all along.
“It’s a deal,” she said. “Starting tomorrow. For now, we’re in the midst of a party. Care to join us?”
“No thanks,” Mr. Pritchard said. “I’m overdressed,” and he quickly left.
I’m sure ours was the first officially-sanctioned clothing-optional dorm in the country. Of course, it wasn’t widely advertised. The school is very liberal – but not all our parents are.
Latisha
- 05.05.2022
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