He looked longingly over my shoulder at the shower. That was a yes. He needed that to feel “clean” again. We’d work on this, but right now he needed to feel “clean” and this would be the best thing for him. I opened the shower door and turned the lever on to a warm setting. I flipped the towel warming rack on and motioned for him to come inside the bathroom. Ryan stiffly walked inside and remained a few feet fromme.
“There are soaps and gels in the basket, along with some shampoo and conditioner. When you get out of the shower, use this towel.” I put my hand on the fresh towel that had been draped over the warming rack. He would be cold and the warm towel would provide himsecurity.
He nodded that he understood. I tried to think quickly if I had missed anything. Permission to use shower products, directions on which towel to use. I glanced around the bathroom quickly and when I spotted the toilet paper, I recalled how Ryan had previously used it to scrub his stomach the last time. I pulled out a few washcloths and a hand towel from the cabinet and set them on the bench in theshower.
“You may use those if you need to,okay?”
“Yes, thankyou.”
Good, he wastalking.
“Go ahead, Ryan. I’m going to go get your clothes and set them on the counter so they’ll be here when you get out. When you’re all done, leave the towels on the floor and come to the kitchen,okay?”
I couldn’t dare assume he heard and understood what I had said. His mind was all over the place. I had to check for understanding with him rightnow.
“Okay, thankyou.”
I nodded and left him in the bathroom. I took my time gathering his clothes, mainly to give him a few private moments to get into the shower and start his ritual. While I picked up his clothes, I was nosey and checked his sizes. His jeans were a thirty-six, which I was almost certain wasn’t accurate. I checked his belt that he had looped in the jeans and the notch hole had been worn the most on the last slot. Thirty-six is too big for him. His gray t-shirt had a curled tag with a faded “XL” stamped on it. Even his boxers were an extra-large. I sighed and carried his folded clothes to thebathroom.
As I set the clothes on the counter, I glanced at Ryan. He had a sudsy wash cloth in his hand and his head was tilted downward to tend to himself. He scrubbed and scrubbed at his stomach. I wanted to tell him that he was clean, but I needed to respect this time forhim.
I quietly left the bathroom and made my way to the kitchen. I prepared a tray of sliced meat, cheese, crackers and diced fruits. I picked up some oatmeal raisin cookies at the bakery because I knew he loved them. I rarely ate sweets, and I preferred to nourish play partners with healthy foods. But Ryan wasn’t a play partner, and I was a selfish bastard. I liked seeing him genuinely smile, and each time I had cookies for him, hesmiled.
He came around the corner, his hair a tousled mess. But the look on his face calmed my own worries. He looked refreshed andsettled.
“Feelbetter?”
“Yes, thankyou.”
As Ryan ate, he became more talkative. We talked about him trimming his pubic hair and I treaded very carefully with this topic. I didn’t want him to feel like I was unhappy with how he looked. But I wanted him to know that I wanted to see more of him. His cheeks grew bright red and he laughed as we talked about technique. He was a good sport about it and said he wouldtry.
“I’m proud of you, Ryan, for going as slow as you had when I told you to masturbate.” A bashful smile appeared on his face as he reached for the cookie. “The more you practice slowing down and touching yourself other places, you’ll soon realize how you like to be touched. It’s important that you’re able to communicate that to a partner orlover.”
An ache had developed in my own stomach at the thought of him telling a potential lover how he wanted to betouched.
