Two Blue Hearts

I get up off the bed, lightly stepping onto the chilly tiled floor.

I get up off the bed, lightly stepping into the chilly tiled floor. I stand up and nearly fall like a tree, leaning towards the left and falling down towards the sofa. I catch myself before impact and regain balance.

I tiptoe, slowly but clumsily, towards the kitchen door, light flooding into the living room where the bed, television, and videogames are. As I stumble into the kitchen, I'm startled by my reflection in the body-length mirror hanging on the wall. My dark brown hair is completely flat on one side, the other being completely poofy like a mistreated hedge. The bright blue eyes in the reflection wildly look back at me. My pale complexion seems to glow in the incandescent light of the kitchen. I'm so skinny, I look damn near anorexic. The thigh gap doesn't help much. The outline of abs is faintly visible, as is my light dusting of hair they call a happy trail. What could Dale possibly see in me? I literally look like the picture they would show in the dictionary for the word, "pitiful".

The kitchen is decently sized and neatly put together, pots and pans hang from the ceiling above a well-built wooden island. The silver refrigerator gleams, slightly, the moon is reflecting off the surface through the huge window near a coffee table.

I continue past the fridge and island, towards the only other doorway. I peek around the corner and see a dark hallway extending both ways. Only one room has a light glowing beneath the doorway. I turn the corner to the left, edging closer to the door. The water is still running, sounding like rain.

I grab the fancy looking silver door handle, and turn it slowly. It's not locked.

The door doesn't click or anything, thankfully, I really don't understand why I felt the need to sneak around like a mouse. I silently crack the door open.

After a few seconds of my eyes adjusting to the blinding white light, I can see a large mirror hanging above a white countertop and sink. There's a little toothbrush holder, the single toothbrush neatly tucked in it's place.

From the mirror I can see a toilet, toilet paper stacked into a little basket above it. I can also see a walk-in shower.

Dale is standing inside of it, eyes closed, facing up into the water stream coming from the shower head. His face looks like a living watercolor painting, his mouth barely open, emanating slow, heavy breaths. The water slides over his tan back muscles, slightly tensing and relaxing rhythmically. I only then realized Dale has a very nice, muscular ass. Damn.

He has one hand against the wall of the shower, bracing himself. His other hand...

He's roughly stroking himself, his legs nearly buckling from the sexual pressure having built up after the little incident we'd had in the living room. His balls tense and he pauses for a moment, gasping. He doesn't cum like I expect, he only stands there breathing slowly and calmly, letting go of his dick. He sits for a few moments, before beginning to jack off again in the same, statuesque position.

I slip through the small crack in the doorway, Dale's eyes still closed. I walk over to the shower, the door wide open. I can feel the heat radiating off of him, the smell of him that I had smelled earlier seemed to be physically emanating off of Dale as steam. It smelled really good.

The water splashes off of Dale's back and onto me. I blink for a few moments before walking up slowly behind him and hugging him from behind. He jolts and stops moving abruptly.

I grab his dick and stroke it, slowly and steadily.

"What are you doing..." he whispers. I let go, easily, and duck under the arm he has propped up against the wall of the shower. His brown eyes look so gentle. I lean into his ear.