Page 51 of Napkins and Other Distractions
In the restaurant, amid the chaos of wine and water, something strange occurred. I remained calm. The worst had happened. I was filthy. Smoke billowed from our table as the entire restaurant gawked. Kent’s clothes clung to his body, saturated by my dousing. Even with his usual frazzled demeanor, Kent seemed unfazed. Even amid ruins, being with Kent, I felt safe. Relief washed over me, and that comfort ignited a blaze. If we’re going to be friends, there will be benefits.
Holding the wadded, soiled towels in my right hand, I gently guide Kent into the bathroom. Quickly tossing them into the hamper, I catch Kent’s gaze. He stands, mouth slightly open, and watches. Is he thinking about the last time he was here? When we kissed and cuddled. Does he want it to happen again? That was a measly appetizer. I’m craving a feast.
My hands are damp from the towels. A mixture of wine and water and my shirt, ruined beyond repair, sticks to my skin and takes extra effort to peel off. I unbutton my slacks and grab my erection, solid and throbbing, about to be free from the fabric. Kent doesn’t break eye contact when I slide them down, and my cock springs up. What is it about this silver fox that makes my libido burn like a bonfire?
My open shower, large enough for two, with brown and gray tiles and a rain shower and wand, welcomes me as I turn the water on. There’s no curtain or door … they’re germ magnets. A minute of scalding hot, and then I’ll lower the temperature—for him.
The water cascades over me, my bare head soothed first, and then slowly, my entire body becomes enveloped, warmed, cleansed.
Kent hasn’t moved, but I sense him studying me. I take a few pumps of soap and begin my shower ritual. Moving out of the water, I lather bubbles in my palms and start at the top, washing my head, ears, and face before moving to my neck, arms, and chest. I linger a moment on my pecs, and Kent unbuttons his shirt, eyes still locked on me. Yes, please. I’m ready to be good.
Two fresh pumps for my cock, balls, and ass. When I slide my palms up and down my hard shaft, Kent lets out a soft, barely audible moan. His furry chest over that fucking dad bod, or I guess grandad bod, makes my dick pulse in my hands. He pushes his khakis off and stands in only his boxers. They’re maroon and, from my vantage, appear to be in better shape than the ones I saw before. Maybe he bought new ones?
I reach around and separate my ass cheeks, meticulously washing and sanitizing every single bit of skin. For him.
My thighs are next, and while my hands grapple them, rubbing up and down, Kent takes a few steps closer. I try really hard not to stare, but I can see the head of his dick poking through the hole in the front of his boxers. He slides them off when I bend over to clean the lower half of my legs. And there it is. His plump, gorgeous cock grows thick and hard as he approaches. I’ve never been a size queen, but I’ve also never had a dick like Kent’s. I want him gagging me while he holds my head and tells me I’m a good boy. Fuck.
Kent enters. Standing under the water, his gray mane instantly slicks back while he rinses off. The fur covering his torso glistens, beckoning my fingers to explore its velvety softness. I want to take him in my mouth immediately, but also, let’s get this man clean first. With only my feet to finish, I brace myself on the wall to lift my foot for washing. Before I begin, Kent speaks for the first time since we arrived at my condo.
“Wait.”
I pause and search his face for a clue but come up empty.
“Let me. Please.”
Staying under the stream, Kent moves closer and kneels. More of him is touching the shower floor than I’d like, but I scoured it last night, and the cleaning crew came two days ago. And I’ll scrub him myself soon.
On one knee, he takes my foot, still aloft, and slowly begins working the soap from my legs down. He rubs the top of my foot with all the lather, massaging bubbles between every toe. When I was a kid, I was extremely ticklish, especially my feet, but when Kent delivers the right amount of pressure, it’s actually calming.
“Fuck,” he says. And even with my dick fully firm and pink from excitement, Kent Lester seems clearly focused on … my feet.
In this kneeling position, his cock is fully hard but still hangs because, well, I’m not an engineer, but gravity. Water drips off the tip, making it even more inviting. I salivate at the idea of how clean he’s about to be.
After caressing and washing each toe, he moves my foot under the water, gently turning and twisting to rinse all the soap.
“Be a good boy, and hold on,” he says, nodding to my hand that’s gripping the handle for balance. My cock shudders with his praise, and I do as I’m told as Kent slowly lifts my foot. I lean back and grab the metal as my center of balance shifts, with Kent bringing my foot toward his face. Bending down, my toes almost tickle his beard, and he looks at me and asks, “May I?”
I’m not exactly sure what he wants, but with both our erections at full attention, all I can say is, “Yes.”
With the water on his back, Kent slowly brushes his lips against my big toe. A kiss. Small. Teasing. His hands rub the tendons firmly, and after another peck where the nail begins, he takes my entire big toe in his mouth.
My shoulders tremble because this tickles more than I expected. With deep breaths, I move my hands from the handle to his head and steady myself in Kent’s thick hair. The pressure on my footpads from his thumbs counters the sensation of my big toe completely in his warm, wet mouth. I teeter momentarily, and Kent pauses, lifting one hand to my waist. His fingers graze the tip of my hard cock, and it pulses at the brief contact.
“Heaven,” he says, taking my big toe and its neighbor in his mouth. He reaches down and begins stroking himself. Using his hand, he turns my foot and licks the entire footpad, finishing by taking each toe, one at a time, in his mouth to suckle. Kent’s fingers press on the arch of my foot, and his tongue dances between each toe. Tiny slurping noises echo with his moans in the shower as he licks and laps. I never imagined such attentiveness to my feet would make my heart pound so hard, but here we are.
He gingerly rests my foot on his bent knee and pulls me closer, kissing the head of my dick. My head falls back at the relief of finally having my cock touched, even just by his lips.
“You ready?” he asks.
Ready for what? I have no idea. My chest tingles, and I remind myself to breathe.
“Yes. I’m ready.”
“Good boy.”
Kent takes the head at first, his lips surrounding it, and he draws my hips closer, slowly taking more of the shaft in his throat. The hair in his beard tickles the sensitive skin as I enter him, but I drop my shoulders, take another deep breath, and ease into the sensation.
Moving his mouth off me, he looks up at me and says, “Now, fuck my mouth like a good boy.”
