Clean 4

I turned off the computer and headed back to the bedroom and the master bath. I chuckled to myself about how the words 'master bath' remind me of 'masturbate.' I hung my old terry bathrobe in the closet and slipped out of yesterday's underwear - those blue Hane's micro-fiber bikini briefs. The fabric is so comfortable against my skin, they provide plenty of support for my package, and the cut shows off my sturdy thighs. Had I known they were discontinuing them, I'd have bought more when I last saw them in the store. I dropped them in the hamper.

In the bathroom, I silently approved of myself in the big wall mirror. I look much trimmer since I lost that twenty pounds. I had just been trading lascivious Personal Messages on the computer. My cock looked a little thick as a result - not erect just a little aroused. I approved again. 'Virile looking for a middle-aged guy,' I thought.

I took my vitamin. I opened the window over the toilet - a gentle autumn breeze from outside would keep the mirror from fogging up during my shower. I gently gripped my thick cock and began urinating in a long stream into the toilet bowl. I listened to the pink noise of my pee splashing in the water, mixed with gentle rustling of leaves or something outside the window. The slightly parted window curtain fluttered a little in the breeze.

I brushed my teeth. I squirted a dollop of shaving gel onto my fingers and spread it over my cheeks, chin and throat. It smelled minty and fresh. I shaved the night's growth of short, fair whiskers from my face. For good measure, I also shaved a few longer hairs from around my areolas. My nipples are almost as sensitive as a woman's. I try to keep them looking inviting in case some kinky woman might want to kiss them. It has happened.

Some other stubble caught my eye in the mirror. 'That I'll get in the shower,' I told myself.

I turned on the water in the shower and adjusted the temperature to a little more than warm. I stepped into the clear glass enclosure. I rinsed quickly in the warmth. I pumped some shampoo onto my hand - that creamy, white, Dove shampoo. It's kind of pearly in appearance. It looks for all the world like an orgasm's worth of semen in the palm of my hand, but it smells more floral. I rubbed the floral ejaculate into my short, sandy hair, lathered and rinsed.

A fall cloud passing outside the window seemed to darken the bathroom a little. I rubbed soap on a washcloth. I washed my face, my under arms, parts of my torso, and my legs. I rinsed. I rubbed a little more soap on the terry cloth and cleaned, gently but thoroughly between the cheeks of my firm, round ass. I rinsed again and hung the washcloth on the shower caddy.

Taking the hard bar of soap in my hand, I applied it directly to my groin. The water ran down my back, as I lathered facing the window. I soaped up the curly pubic hair above my hanging manhood. I rubbed the bar next on my cock, then on my balls, then chuckling, on the 'taint' of my perineum. T'ain't ass; t'ain't genitals. All sudsy, I put the soap back in the shower caddy.

At the window, through the slightly parted curtain, something black caught the notice of my peripheral vision - a bird. A shiny blackbird. My mind raced. 'Oh golly, those aren't feathers, that's fabric. Someone is peeking in the window. Ms. Street is watching. How did she get here so fast? She must be standing on a garden chair to look in that high window.' I remembered the sound of leaves or something rustling outside. In that moment, I determined not to give any indication I had noticed.

I lowered my chin and gave all of my attention to my soapy cock and balls. I rubbed the glans with my palm on all sides and from every angle, making certain my head was clean. With my forefinger, I circled what remains of my foreskin after my infant circumcision. Thinking, as I did so, 'I don't remember if it hurt, and I can't honestly say I have ever missed it. God, I hope she doesn't think it looks incomplete.' I cupped my balls in my hand and thickened the lather on them. I squeezed the shaft of my cock, made the head swell, and stroked a little bit, becoming semi-erect in the process.

I was no longer taking a shower, but putting on a shower show, still turned toward the window for my spectator's benefit - my own eyes on my own prize. With three fingers on my left hand, I pinched the half-engorged purplish head of my penis and pulled it toward my navel. At the same time, my right hand pulled a safety razor from the shower caddy. As I applied the blade to my cock, I heard a slight gasp from behind the window curtain - the surprised sound of air sucked over teeth. I gave no notice as I carefully shaved the shaft of my penis hairless.

The wrinkly skin of my scrotum presented an even more ticklish subject for the keen blade of a safety razor. Still, with my left hand, I pulled and stretched my sack, alternately shifting my testicles one way and another. With my right hand and short gentle strokes, I shaved my balls clean. I backed deeper into the shower spray and let any remaining soap wash down my legs and into the drain. I took a moment to handle myself in the water so that any little bird that might be watching could fully appreciate my blade work.

Employing only my peripheral vision, and without lifting my chin, I took a peek at the window sill. The bird was still there, flicking its tail, hopping, fluttering its wings, something. A rhythmic motion was vaguely visible through the parted window curtain. I knew what that meant. It meant that Ms. Street was standing on my garden chair, her hands in her crotch, Jilling-off. She was peeking through the curtain, watching my shower show and mistress-bating to my morning personal hygiene ritual.

I was now clean and my cock and balls had that porn star, well-groomed look. I needed a finale. I wondered what I could possibly do next to bring my audience over the edge. After all, I had to put on my coat and tie and go to work. I don't know what possessed me, but I decided to press my wet body against the shower door. Small children do the same thing with their faces at windows to admire the way the glass distorts their features. I pressed my cock, my chest, and my face against the shower door and held my pose for a long count of ten.

Then, as I exited the shower, I whispered softly at the window, "Show's over, little bird."