He gets up and does the same.
“I made up the guest room for you, if you want to put your things in there. It has an ensuite bathroom, so you can grab a shower.”
“I would love a shower,” he says as he walks over to his suitcase. I can’t pull my eyes from him as he does, taking in every inch of him in a way that most certainly is not friendly. Best friends don’t stare at their best friends like this… what the hell is going on? “Hudson?”
“Yeah?” I say quickly, clearing my throat.
He smiles knowingly. “Where am I going?”
“Oh, right.” I scratch the back of my neck, laughing. “Sorry, I’m still tired.”
“Sure,” he says under his breath.
I gesture for him to follow me upstairs. It’s just a small hallway with two doors on either side.
“Both bedrooms are in the back here. Mine is on the right, so yours is here.” I gesture to the door on the left. “The other room is my office, and then another living room.”
“Lots of space for one man.”
I shrug. “I got a good deal on it.” And then I change the subject, because I don’t want to talk about the fact I bought this house to satisfy my parents into thinking I’d planned on starting a family one day. Wife, kids, dog… all that stuff. They assumed since I had so much space, I’d want to fill it. Little do they know it’s filled exactly how I want it. Or at least it’s how I used to want it… “Everything you need is in the bathroom. Soap, towels, all that stuff.”
“Thanks, Huds!” he calls as I hurry out of the room and into my own bathroom.
My heart is pounding, and I have no idea why.
How is it that he can make me so calm, yet make my heart race like a horse?
I hear the shower turn on in the other bathroom since they share a wall. The upstairs was built mirrored, so the bathrooms are exactly the same, just… the opposite. I only chose this side because I’m not woken up by the sun in my eyes.
I turn the shower on to let it get hot as I undress. I need to shave, but I’ll do that when I get out. Everything for that is under the sink, so I pull it out for when I’m done, then get into the shower and wash quickly, scrubbing every inch of my skin and my hair. My hand is on the faucet to shut it off when I hear a sound from the other bathroom that has my dick instantly hard.
There goes my heart again…
I strain to listen, stepping closer to the wall, which causes the spray to rain down on me. I ignore the water pouring down my face and focus on the sounds coming from the other side of the wall.
Another moan, this time louder.
Trey doesn’t live here to know that the walls are paper thin. Nothing is a secret in this house—nothing.
I glance down at my dick that’s jutting out and begging for attention. I wrap my hand around it, my eyes falling shut at the relief.
Trey moans again, and I thrust my hips forward, placing my free hand flat on the wall and imagining what he’s doing on the other side. I picture him in the same position as me, bracing against the wall and stroking his dick—thinking of me. Imagining me. Is he wondering if I’m doing it too? Is he thinking of me jerking off in the shower? Or maybe just me naked…knowing I’m in the shower. Is that what got him hard? What made him so hard he had to touch himself in my house?
Tingling pleasure trails up my spine, and I realize I’m thrusting hard and fast into my hand, so close to getting off. I move my hips faster, my nails looking for purchase against the tile wall. My panting gets louder until they’re full-on moans. I hear myself, but I hear him too, on the other side, no doubt doing exactly what I am. There’s no denying it. I know he can hear me, but he doesn’t stop.
We both know what’s going on, and maybe he’s doing this on purpose?
“Fuck,” I mutter as the orgasm hits me, cum splattering the wall in front of me. I gasp, thrusting through my orgasm until my knees shake.
I rest my head against the wall and catch my breath. It takes only a few moments, and then I’m shutting off the shower, and paranoia sets in.
It’s silent on the other end.
Did I make it up?
My heart is still pounding when I pull the shower curtain back and step out. I grab the towel from the sink and dry my face and hair, then wrap it tightly around my waist. My fingers are trembling as I shave, so I have to be extra careful not to cut myself. That’s all I need before I visit my mother… she may say I need an in-home nurse.
I love her. She’s a good person, and I know she means well, but her lack of knowledge about autism stresses me the hell out. I’ve tried to have a conversation with her about it, but she just doesn’t listen. She’s already made up her mind about what it is, and what I’m capable of. That, mixed with her being my mother, I think she’s going to treat me like a toddler for the rest of my life.
