Today, Tommy stared down the imminent arrival of Fran, a hurricane in a whole other class. Already, her large swells had required a daring rescue by the coastguard further down the Atlantic seashore and she was still gaining momentum. Her fierce winds swayed trees, and she had already dumped enough heavy rains on them for a flash flood watch to be issued. He prayed Fran would dwindle away, but if the third time was the charm, the odds weren’t in his favor. Tommy understood tornados were equally as dangerous as hurricanes but something about the image of a funnel cloud rising from the ocean like a Kraken bent on destruction sent a hundred ice-cold pinpricks right up his spine.
Ken had shown little emotion in regards to the storm, but his perpetual stone-faced demeanor wouldn’t allow any signs of fear to crack through, regardless of what he was actually feeling. Trisha had an entirely different attitude, leaning much closer to unbridled aggravation than anxiety or fear. Rather than preparing for the worst, she had been too busy bitching about her tennis shoes being soaked through to her socks.
She’s too stubborn for her own good! Tommy admired her tenacity, but today her strong-willed behavior had been driving him nuts. His nostrils flared as he recalled her refusal to call in sick to work even though he had called her early in the morning and practically begged her not to go. Trisha insisted people were going to need their bread and milk and someone had to be at the Pick-and-Save to ring up their purchases. He frowned, shaking his head. Why does it have to be her?
After squirting a dollop of Ken’s shampoo into his hand, Tommy rubbed his palms together before scrubbing his wavy blond locks, bleached bright platinum by many sunny afternoons spent at the beach. After rinsing until he was fresh and squeaky clean, he turned off the water and looked up to where he hung his…Ah, shit! He had forgotten to grab a towel. Ken was going to fuss at him for getting the floor wet again. Oh well, he had survived all of Ken’s tirades up until now. What was one more?
He hopped out onto the bathmat and reached over to the shelf that held their towels, grabbing the top one and pulling it to himself with a short yank. Thick and blue, the material’s white seashell pattern made the terrycloth towels perfect for home or the beach. He dried his face first and then rubbed the towel over his hair before drying his body and putting on his deodorant and cologne. Vainly, he smiled at himself in the mirror, raising and lowering his light brown eyebrows a couple of times.
Pretending both of his thumbs and forefingers were guns, he pointed at his reflection, wiggling his fingers in self-adulation before snickering at his behavior. Looking down at his cock, he offered an apologetic squeeze. “Sorry, big guy. I know it’s been a while, but I can’t go sticking you anywhere tight, wet, attractive, and willing anymore. Trish might think I’m a man-whore.”
He sighed, bemoaning the nearly six-month, self-imposed dry spell he was enduring—the longest he had ever gone taking care of business on his own since becoming sexually active. If it wasn’t Trisha, he wasn’t interested. She had wiggled her round, little booty into his heart, capturing him slowly and subtly before he even realized what was happening. Her smile, her sense of humor, and the way she fit into his world even better than a glove—he had never stood a chance.
After returning his attention to the mirror, Tommy began his skin regime, slathering his face with expensive, department store moisturizer, using both hands on each side of his rugged jawline. Moving on to pamper his body, he looked in the cabinet where he kept his lotion, but the container wasn’t in the usual spot. He scanned the area again and looked around in the other cabinets and drawers but still couldn’t find the blue tube. Maybe Ken had borrowed it.
He wrapped his damp towel around his hips before he reached for the doorknob. Wait, maybe I better knock. Ken could have a girl in there…Pfft, yeah, right.
As handsome as he was, Ken wasn’t so good with the ladies. A lot of girls wanted a first date, but obtaining a second date, assuming he even wanted one, often proved far more difficult. If not for the generous ladies who were down for one-nighters, that guy would have to endure some serious dry spells. While pushing the door open, Tommy strode into Ken’s room without being noticed.
A grin spread across Tommy’s face and his eyes widened as he caught Ken in the act. His usually vigilant pal was too wrapped up in the hentai video he was watching to notice the intrusion—fucking anime porn! Really?
Staying as silent as he could, Tommy scooted along the side of the wall until he stood parallel to the foot of Ken’s double bed. His shirtless buddy was sitting on the edge of the mattress with his gym shorts and underwear down around his ankles and his hand wrapped around his fully erect cock. Tommy smirked. No wonder he needed my lotion.
While covering his mouth with his palm, Tommy struggled not to make any noise but a gasp and a snicker were both sticking in the back of his throat. Ken’s masturbating wasn’t surprising or funny—he would be abnormal if he didn’t. But a prodigy like Ken forgetting to secure the bathroom entrance to his bedroom struck Tommy as hilarious and he wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to get an honest reaction from
