Because of the rental line, Horny and Hilt are already there. Lo and Caulder will be arriving later tonight, and we’re going for a hike. The following day is paintball.
We stop at the hotel long enough to check in and drop off our bags. Once in our room, I opt for a quick shower to get the feeling of the airport off me.
“I’m going to shower quickly,” I tell him. Arush nods as I strip. He watches me, never taking his eyes off what I’m doing. “Want to join me?”
We’ve showered together before. His eyes rise to mine, and he shifts. I’ve seen him touch himself twice. Once the day I came home and found his door ajar while he fucked himself on his toy cock. The image has lived rent free in my head ever since.
There’s poetry in sex. The erotic curves and movement. The heat lining every sound. The glisten of sweat on smooth skin. It’s beautiful. I’ve always thought so. I’ve always thought that sex is hot. I’m a fan of naked bodies. I’m a huge fan of porn.
I just don’t get turned on by it. It’s not that kind of sexy.
If I were going to get turned on by anyone, it would be Arush. He makes my heart beat wildly. However, that’s not how I’m wired and I’m not sorry for that. It means I can appreciate things far more from a distance than being lost in the moment when all the details pass by.
Arush nods at my question, but he’s biting his lip.
In my underwear, I cross the room and take his lip from between his teeth. He shivers. “You want to touch yourself?” I murmur.
I’m not imagining the quiet moan as he nods subtly.
“Can I watch you?”
His entire body shudders against me. “Yes,” he breathes.
Smiling, I yank on his shirt playfully before backing away. “Take your time. I’ll meet you in the shower.”
He swallows and nods.
I leave him to gather his bearings and head into the bathroom. I’m glad there’s a decent-sized shower. I don’t want us to be forced to stand too close. I imagine there’s a fine line between this being an erotic moment, and it being much too close for either of our comfort.
I’m standing under the water when Arush walks into the bathroom with his toiletry bag. He’s naked. He’s hard. I try not to stare so I don’t make him uncomfortable, but I can’t stop myself from admiring him.
Arush joins me, and I move from under the spray of water for him. Thankfully, it’s a wide rain head so we’re both still getting some water, even from a couple feet apart.
“You okay with this?” I ask.
“I want you to watch me touch myself,” he says. “I like when you look at me.”
“That’s a relief,” I admit. “It’s hard not to. You’re beautiful, Arush.”
He takes a breath as he reaches for the body wash dispenser attached to the shower wall. While he’s doing that, I admire his dick. It’s maybe exactly perfect. Not too long, but not short. Not too thick, but not thin, either. His veins are pronounced, decorating his cock like a living, breathing organism.
His cockhead is pronounced and smooth, with a perfect mushroom tip. His slit is… weirdly sexy. The whole shaft stands at a hard forty-five-degree angle, almost pointing at me.
Which means I have a full look at his balls. They’re tight. Full. Unmistakably hard. Sexy.
Strange. I’ve never looked at a man’s junk before and thought it was sexy. By far, it’s the most beautiful body part. There’s something elegant about it.
I wait, wondering if this is the moment when my body will wake up. I experienced these moments a lot growing up. Okay, not this specifically, but moments that were sexy in nature. I waited, expectant, that my body would respond. It was frustrating at first because the stark difference in how I was built stood out like a red balloon in a sea of black and white.
Eventually, I stopped waiting for it to happen. When it happens, and I can count on a single hand the number of times it’s happened naturally, it’s taken me fully by surprise. And in those moments, I now realize I’m very much like Arush. I don’t want someone else to get me off. I don’t want to engage in intercourse. I’d rather get myself off.
My body doesn’t respond, as I was relatively certain it wouldn’t. This is something I’ve come to appreciate. There’s no distraction now. I can admire the show.
Arush’s soapy hand wraps around his cock and he gives himself a single stroke, root to tip. He hums quietly. I look up and find his eyes on me. I wish I could look at both places at the same time. I want to watch him touch himself, but I also want to get lost in his eyes.
His hand moves slowly over his dick, gliding smoothly with a mixture of soap and falling water. It’s difficult to see when a bead of precum forms. It gets lost in the water droplets and soap bubbles that are quickly washed away.
His moan fills the stall, and I lick my lips. I love that sound. “Beautiful,” I murmur.
