Page 31 of Strange Lad

Ihave to piss. Urgently.

Fumbling out of bed, I squint through the bright light and paw at the wall beside the bathroom door.

The sound of water rushing only makes my bladder scream as I blink through the fog of sleep. Sometimes, I crash so hard that it takes me a while to realize I’m awake and not still dreaming.

The ache in my bladder grows the longer I stand there, my brain rewiring to figure out why my shower is on.

“Jorge,” his name comes out like a wisp of smoke.

Carefully leaning against the thin wood, I press my ear to it and listen. There’s splashing—like water is hitting the tile walls of my shower. He could be just scrubbing. Jorge has showered here before.

I hold my breath in hopes it’ll allow my ears to focus.

My body absently leans in closer, and the door slips open like he hadn’t shut it all the way. Through the crack, I glimpse my relatively sheer shower curtain. The shadowy planes of his body are visible past it.

I swallow hard, absently reaching for the handle.

I’m going to close it. It’s the decent thing to do.

My eyes trace the outline of his back, dropping to the curve of his ass. So round and thick and taut. The kind of ass that could destroy a man or resurrect him. I wet my lips, my bladder long forgotten as I take in my fill. His arm moves frantically, more splashing. Something urgent crushes down on my chest, warmth swirling low in my stomach. Tingles spread over the base of my spine while my balls draw up tight.

It’s just shapes and colors, but it’s enough to have my imagination going wild. Picturing all that skin on display, glistening and dripping.

His other hand slaps against the wall, bracing himself. And it dawns on me. This is an extremelyprivatemoment I’m intruding on. Masturbating isn’t something I actively seek to do anymore unless my body demands it. Even then, it’s clinical. Absent of all pleasure.

Jorge fucks his fist like it’s someone else.

He worships the feeling and savors it like he has all the time in the world, but he is also eager to reach his climax.

I’m panting as I stand there, enthralled, hypnotized by the sight. A soft moan echoes through the bathroom as I squeeze the handle tighter, my knuckles blanching.

What has him like this? Or better yet, who? Did I interrupt something when I asked him to come over last night? Did he leave a willing participant at that party? Someone who’d reciprocate his touch?

My body wars from within, bloody and violent. To make myself known or to run away?

Regardless of my repressed needs and my dreams of an alternate reality where I could be the one to please him, I can’t make a decision. Can’t move from this spot.

In slow motion, I watch as his muscles flex, and his head throws back as he comes all over my shower.

Leave,my mind shrieks.Leave now!

How can I? How can I ignore something this fuckinggorgeous?Even if I know I’ll never experience it myself, just having a glimpse into his passionate world soothes a broken piece of my soul.

“Ohmygod!” Jorge shrieks, arms windmilling and fingers clawing at the shower curtain. He goes down in a heap of limbs, taking the entire plastic sheet with him. The flimsy plastic rings holding it to the rod pop dramatically, falling to the ground.

“I’m sorry!” I cry out, shame and disgust filling me like quicksand. “I had to piss and—”

“There’s still jizz on my dick, man! Give a guy time to wash it off!” he growls, cheeks dark. “My ass hurts,” he whines, struggling to untangle himself.

Rushing to get him a towel, I turn off the shower and wordlessly hand it to him, which he takes with a muttered thanks. “Ow, ow,ow,” he keeps whimpering as he stands.

Holding the towel over his crotch, he peers over his shoulder and inspects his ass. I’m unsure what to do. He’s moaning and groaning in pain. Should I get ice? I have some Tylenol in the medicine cabinet…

“It’s bruised. I never bruise! I think I hit the lip of the shower.”

Since I don’t have a bathtub, the single shower has a raised lip to avoid splashback and water damage to the floor. Jorge faces me, wet curls clinging to his cheeks and rubbing his buttcheek while holding the towel.

It hidesonlyhis cock, revealing everything else to me, like his narrow hips and the subtle V. His firm thighs and lean torso. I’m bright as a ruby, forcing myself to keep eye contact and not drool over his perfect lithe body.

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