Page 38 of Lethal Seduction

I flip on the shower, turning the knob to the perfect spot. Hot enough to soothe my aching muscles, but not too hot as to burn me—or at least not too burnt. My mind begins to drift to Patrick again. His cute smile, the glint in his eyes when he looks at me. Physically, we're pretty different, but I love that about him. He couldn’t have been more than five-nine and a hundred-fifty pounds soaking wet. His light brown skin and black hair are stunningly perfect—not even a small blemish.

The steam billows out of the shower, and the glass walls are completely opaque with condensation. I begin unbuttoning myshirt and get a whiff of myself in the process. Yep, a shower before bed is definitely necessary.

I yawn. Not once, but twice. Long, loud, and with tears in my eyes.

Tossing the shirt on the floor, I unzip my pants. They’re tighter than I usually like them, but I wanted to make a good impression. I slide them over my pronounced ass and down my thick muscular legs. For being in my thirties, I’ve retained much of my athleticism from when I was in ballet. I toss my jeans and boxers into the pile with the shirt and stretch my hands far above my head.

Once I step inside the shower, I sigh, enjoying the rivers of warmth as they caress my body. Each hot rivulet washes away the nerves and loosens my aching muscles.

I grab the body wash and apply a large amount to the washcloth, cleaning myself. Each time the rough fabric brushes against my hard nipples, I shiver. Very weird. Not usually so reactive to light touch. I look down at my semi-hard cock and realize just how horny I actually am. I begin playing with my nipples, rubbing them softly at first before lightly pinching them while the hot water runs over my chest. It feels so good. Goosebumps spread across my arms, legs, and chest, the more I rub my hands against myself. I close my eyes and imagine Patrick is in the shower with me.

I shiver with anticipation.

Slowly, I trace my finger down between my pecs, along the center of my stomach until I reach the base of my cock. I’m fully erect now, the entire shaft twitching up and down with my heartbeat. Again, soaping up the washcloth, making it slippery and wet, I wrap it around my shaft. Closing my eyes, I envision Patrick’s lips slowly moving over my head, his tongue rubbing the sensitive underside of the head and shaft. I cup my ownballs in my hand, letting them roll around in my fingers, before pulling on the loose skin of my sack.

I moan.

My knees begin to tremble more with each passing second. The desire I feel for him and for my own release is so much more intense than I can ever remember happening before.

My breath quickens as my stroking intensifies. To keep myself from slipping, I brace myself against the cold tile wall at my back, which sends a tingle up my spine. “Oh, fuck yeah.” My legs continue to tremble, but I’m getting closer to climax. I pinch my sack again, but this time my balls are pulled up, ready to release their hot load.

“Just like that,” I say aloud, to no one but myself. “Fuck, yeah, buddy. Suck my cock… like that.”

I moan as my legs shake.

My thick cock throbs in my grip, fighting to erupt, but I hold back just enough to prevent this from being over. It feels too good and has been too long since I’ve felt this sexual and needful. I reach between my legs and press my finger against my asshole. I’m puckered tight, but I lube my finger with soap and push inside while I imagine Patrick standing behind me. “Fuck me, baby,” I breathe the words, sucking in air as I work my body hard in the hot water.

I reach my sensuous spot and press down while I continue to stroke my cock. A sensation almost impossible to describe runs down my legs and around my back into my belly. It’s pure pleasure. A nervousness, excitement, and unadulterated happiness rolled into one feeling that could bring this six-foot-five, muscular, ox of a man to his knees—begging for more.

Seconds race by as the surge of release that starts in the base of my sack runs up into my belly. Again, my balls are pulling up inside me, my body desperate to shoot my load. Quickening my strokes, my breath draws in and out, timing perfectly with myhand as I stroke my cock. Unable to remain standing, I slowly slide to the tile floor, but never once slowing my strokes. My need is now boiling over and no matter how hard I try to hold it back, I can’t. Locking my knees, holding my legs out straight, my back presses against the wall and my ass rests firmly on the floor, I begin using both hands to slide up and down on my shaft. Shifting myself out from under the direct water stream, I see precum seeping out and slickening my cock head. “Yes,” I call out. “Fuck, yes.” I explode with intensity. Spurts of cum erupt, shooting upward and landing on my chest and belly. I rub the thick, creamy hot pleasure across my belly and back down onto my throbbing hard cock. Each stroke after I cum is hypersensitive and forces me into a laughing fit. A tingle forms at the top of my ass and runs up my spine. I stop before it becomes too uncomfortable, but I want more—I want it to be real, with Patrick.

The hot water begins to run out, sending a shiver through my satiated body. My breathing has long since returned to normal, as has my heart rate. I stand and reach over, turning off the shower, and then sit on the ledge for a few moments, listening to the last of the water circle the drain.

I force myself to stand and stretch. My arms overhead cause my lower back to pop with a satisfying relief. Grabbing for the towel, I dry myself. Tears seem to come from nowhere.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I finish toweling off and take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. There is going to be time for me to get into a good relationship and be happy. No matter how many times my friends and family call, asking if I’ve found that special someone, and me telling them no—there is still time. Although, my mother is always reminding me that she is getting up there in years and would feel like a horrible parent if she died knowing her son had never been able to find true love.

I sigh and wipe my cheeks. The tears aren’t from sadness, but they aren’t from regrets either. The intensity of our date, and the lovely sex afterwards, party-of-one style, had just bubbled up. No reason to worry.

The phone rings and I rush to answer it.

“Hello?” I say as soon as I connect the call. “Mom, is that you?”

“Your father and I are having a lovely time in Hawaii. I wanted to call and see how your day went.” She’s sweet, but I know what she really wants to know is how the date went. I made the mistake of telling her when we spoke last.

“I was just about to get into bed… it’s been a long day here,” I say.

“Oh?” Her tone alone asks a thousand questions, none of which come before the first thing she has on her mind. “Are you going to bed alone?”

“Mom,” I say, “you ask too many questions. When I’m ready to share, I promise you’ll be the first person I tell.” I lie, but I know it will make her feel better about the fact I’m sharing no details.

“Hold on a second, Michael. Your father is trying to carry two plates of Kalua Pork back to the table, and you know how he limps.”

I stifle a laugh as I can picture exactly what is going on there. They are probably at a luau, and Mom has carried their drinks; two for her and one for him. He is in charge of the food, and God forbid he drop something—he would never hear the end of it.

“Don’t drop my pork,” she yells into the receiver. “Honey, I’m going to have to let you go, your father is embarrassing me.”

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