Remembering Rick Ch. 02

"I missed a drop," I said, trying to grin my most sultry grin.

"Right on," he whispered, then kissed me. I let his tongue enter my mouth. He stepped back too soon.

"Come on," he ordered, stepping past me. "Let's get cleaned up."

He leaned into the shower and turned the nozzle toward the wall before twisting the handle. I smiled. I did the same thing. I hated getting splashed with cold water. Rick would dart his hand under the water periodically, checking to see if it was hot yet. When it was, he adjusted the temperature and stepped in. He backed under the shower, threw his head back and let the water run over his face and hair. When he straightened, his eyes and one hand beckoned me.

I joined him in the shower. It was a small shower. There was no way for our bodies not to touch, not that I wanted them to not touch. He handed me a bar of soap.

"You wash me first, okay?"

I took the bar from him and began to soap his body. I paid scant attention to his pits, giving them a cursory scrub. My hands lingered on his chest. I can still feel how hard his pecs were and the sharp points of his tiny nipples. When my hands reached his cock, they took their time. Even though he'd recently unloaded down my throat, I could feel him begin to respond to my touch. He surprised me when he turned away and leaned his chest against the wall of the shower. Warm water cascaded down his back. It funneled toward his ass crack. I knew what he wanted.

I worked my soapy fingers between his ass cheeks and began to wash his asshole. He pushed against my fingers and I replied by letting one slip inside. With the soap it was easier. I moved my finger in and out. Wishing it was my dick and not my finger. I wondered if I should fuck him in the shower. That would be hot.

"Use two," he whispered, his head hanging between his arms.

I pushed with two fingers. They entered him without resistance. I moved them inside him and, feeling bold, added a third.

"Oh, fuck yeah, Rob," he gasped and pushed back against my fingers. I was afraid to push my fingers too deeply inside him. At the time, I pretended to myself I didn't want to hurt him but now I can admit I was afraid my fingers would encounter stool. I wanted to fuck him, wanted badly to fuck him but the idea of stool on my cock bothered me. It still does.

It was several years later when I confessed that to a lover. He looked at me astounded. "Christ Rob, you are such neophyte sometimes. Of course you don't. Hell, hardly anyone enjoys a dirty fuck. There are a few scat daddies out there but not a lot."

Rick pulled away from my hand and turned again. He leaned into me, kissing my chest, as his hands held his ass cheeks apart so the shower could rinse his ass.

"Your turn."

We switched places. Before turning to face him, I rinsed off my hand. I saw only soap suds. His hands felt fantastic. He could barely touch my dick. I was too close to cumming.

"Turn around," he commanded. I did not hesitate.

I pressed my hands and chest against the wall as his fingers began to explore my virgin ass. The feel of his fingertips gliding over my pucker felt as good as I had imagined.

"Okay, relax now," he warned. "If you tense up it'll hurt."

He pressed against me. It felt uncomfortable. He kiss one shoulder.

"Relax, bro, relax. I promise it will be worth it."

I can't say I relaxed all that much but I didn't pull away. There was a little pain as he penetrated me. He kept whispering and murmuring reassurances to me. I told myself to stop being a pussy. His finger wasn't as big as some of the craps I had taken. I focused on my breathing, focused on the way his finger felt, focused on wanting him deep enough inside me to do whatever it was my fingers had done to him. He was patient; I will always give him that. He pushed and pulled, a centimeter, no more at a time, until finally I felt the intense pressure I imagined he must have felt. I heard myself moan.

"Told ya, bro," he whispered.

He pulled his finger out. I started to turn but he held me in place. I peeked over my shoulder. He was re-soaping his hand.

"It will be easier now," he reassured me. It was.

His finger slid back inside my ass and there was no pain. I tensed again when I felt two fingers against my pucker hole but once I relaxed, that was fine as well.

We both jumped but thank God neither of us yelped when someone knocked on the door.

"Mike? Rob? Dude you going to be long? I gotta date and I'd like to get cleaned up."

I turned. Rick was ashen. I thought he was going to be sick. I held a finger to my lips. He nodded. I leaned next to his ear.

"When I open the door, slip out and go into my room. Just be quiet. It's no big deal."

He nodded, still looking terrified.

I pushed the door of the shower open and stuck my head out. Rick slipped out behind me, grabbed a towel and did a tiptoe trot into my room. I made a note to try to cover the trail of his wet foot prints.

"That you Darren?" I shouted louder than I needed to.

"Who the fuck else would it be? Not to be a dick but I don't want to be late. I'm hoping to get somewhere tonight. I don't want Jill all pissed off from the start."

"I'm done," I called back as I turned off the shower. I stepped out and grabbed my towel. My dick had softened a little but not completely. I hoped he wouldn't notice. I wrapped the towel around my waist and reached over to pop the inside lock so he could get in.

Darren barged in. He was such a narcissist I needn't have worried about him noticing anything. As always, he came in naked, towel over one shoulder. He had no idea, I don't think, that I was gay. He wouldn't have cared. He assumed everyone wanted to look at him in all his glory. He was okay but not that hot and definitely not my type. I brushed my hair as he jumped into the shower. I didn't expect and I didn't receive a thanks.

I went into my room and closed the door, locking if from my side. It wasn't unusual for Darren to barge in with only a cursory knock.

Rick stood dripping beside my bed still looking like he seen a real life predator or the acid dripping creator from the Alien movies.