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Campsite Showers

A lot of the camp sites I’ve visited over the years are rather communal in their nature, one site that stands out was to say the least quite basic. There were four showers facing out over the area for washing dishes, each had a plain sturdy wooden door matched by an equally spartan interior in which the shower head hung loosely from the ceiling. The water pressure was incredibly low and each morning while showering I would hear the locked door creak as people tried to see which of the cubicles were vacant, displaying a clear lack of foresight the owners had neglected to leave any outwardly visible sign of occupancy.

Each morning I thought about leaving the lock open for fun but eventually decided it would be a shame to only be seen once, so I headed down to the showers just before the post supper rush then stepped into the second cubicle and stripped off. It was just as well nobody was around since it took a few attempts to get the lock just right.

I turned the shower on and started getting washed, using rather more soap than I usually would so the lather would provide a little modesty. I stood facing the door with my eyes closed while making sure the girls were as clean as possible, it did not take too long before I could hear the conversation of people by the sinks leaving me to enjoy the building anticipation.

The door opened quite suddenly, my eyes were still closed so the first thing I felt was the sudden rush of cold flow over me. I waited just a second before opening my eyes and offering my best rabbit in the headlights impression. The man who opened the door apologised profusely and tried to close the door as fast as possible while the people at the sinks laughed, his own shock meant that the door must have been open for at least 4-5 seconds… hardly any time at all but it felt much longer.

He sounded very flustered from behind the door so I decided to put him at ease and said not to worry… still naked I pushed the door open just an inch and let it drop back giving some of the people by the sinks just a quick glimpse while saying “looks like locks sticking” and made a lot of noise slamming the bolt closed a few times. Since my fun was over I rinsed off the soap and dried quickly… however since my clothes were already stashed away in my bag I felt it might be fun to head back to my tent barefoot and clad only in a towel.

So after a moment I stepped outside the cubicle past the steadily growing shower queue, even though blushing furiously I paused long enough to tell the person waiting outside about the sticking lock. The towel reached a modest three to four inches below anything indecent, but the eyes of everyone at the sinks were glued on its edge. Thankfully it managed to stay firmly in place all the way back to my tent, I had to really reach above my head while tying my hair back to let it fall innocently to the ground outside. I probably spent at least a minute starker’s and fumbling with the towel while people watched on before finally diving through the door of my tent to ease a little growing tension.

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Adventures of an Exhibitionist