Page 87 of His Choice

I turned my head to look at him. He seemed eager and uncertain at the same time.

“We don’t have to,” he added, with a tilt of the head that indicated it wasn’t a bother to him either way. “If you’re too uptight.”

“I’m not uptight,” I argued. I’m beyond uptight.

Aaron still looked unsure, like if he pushed, I might spring at him and bang his head against the tile. “Um, do you want to watch each other?” I think my mouth was open, and he frowned. “Or not. I just didn’t know if it would be weird to have our backs to each other like it’s something shameful…or whatever.”

“Are you sure you won’t freak out later?” My erection was weakening at the prospect.

It was as if he suspected as much, as he glanced down at my dick, then back up again. “I won’t if you don’t.”

I wanted this so bad. “Uh, I’m cool.”

I finally allowed myself to peek at his erection. It was impressive and even more beautiful than when it had been soft. He smiled, then began soaping it, nice and slow. “Been too long, man.”

I used the hand on my uninjured arm to mirror his motions. I had never done it left-handed, yet it had never felt better. “Yeah. For sure.” Unlike Aaron, who sounded confident and comfortable with pleasuring himself, my voice had sounded like a squeak.

“Relax, Mikey. It’s all good. Just let go of the pressure of this week,” he encouraged. “We’ll feel better and be able to get a good night’s sleep, huh?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, increasing the speed of my stroking to match his. Aaron glanced over and watched. In that moment, it seemed he was into me, and all the crazy, conflicted emotions I had ever felt for him crashed around me. With only a dozen or so more strokes, my balls tightened. I grimaced as cum shot and cascaded over my clenched hand and cock, then onto my nuts before some of it dripped onto the floor below.

As soon as my temples stopped pounding, Aaron grunted. I looked to him and saw him blast a rope of jizz at the glass shower door, followed by two more equally powerful eruptions. Globs of semen slid down the glass like melting vanilla ice cream. Leave it to him to be a remarkable shooter.

“Fuck!” Aaron cried with every aftershock that spurted cum no further than his fist. Once he was drained, he bowed his head and fondled his dick more gently. “Fucking A!”

I watched him, fearful that he would begin to show signs of regret, despite his earlier proclamation. Instead, when his breathing normalized, he glanced over to me with a grin.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He seemed surprised. “Why wouldn’t I be? Blowing a load is good.”

Despite my nervousness, I found myself laughing. “You’re…refreshingly self-assured.”

Aaron looked at me with hooded eyes. “Yeah? I thought you were going to say I’m a stud. Look at the mess I made, man. It’s like a piece of art. I should grab my phone, snap a photo, and send it to the Gardner Museum in Boston.”

“Okay, I knew you’d make it weird,” I joked.

He pulled me into an embrace, which surprised me. I was face-to-face, skin-to-skin with Aaron. “Thanks, Mikey.”

I nodded. I didn’t know why he was expressing gratitude. If he only knew how much I had wanted that, he might have felt differently.

He took a hold of my hip so that he and I were standing side-by-side under the shower head, rinsing the cum from our bodies before soaping everywhere we hadn’t yet.

“This isn’t like our apartment,” I said, to change the subject. “The water would have gotten cold a long time ago.”

Aaron reached for the faucet handle and turned off the spray. “Come on. I’ll dry you off.”

I followed him out of the shower—the pain lessened from the steam and euphoria. But when I raised my arm to grab a towel from the shelf, I howled.

“I said, let me dry you off,” he reminded me in a chastising tone.

At this point, I was past embarrassment. I decided to luxuriate in his tender caring.

“Cold,” I complained, shivering now that we were standing under one of the air-conditioning vents.

He vigorously rubbed the towel over my chest and back, then more gently through my hair and over my aching arms and legs. I was about to grab the towel from him, but he ignored my outstretched hand, then wiped my dick, balls and buttocks as if doing so was no more consequential than drying off his just-washed car. Although he was still dripping, he grabbed one of the long luxurious robes from a door hook and helped me into it.

“Thanks,” I whispered.