The shower door slides abruptly open. Lance stands there, gaping. Neal ogles. Lance sings softly as he steps into the shower: "If it's you my life lines trace. – Hi Neal, nice meeting you here." he slips into the fold of his new partner's arms, kissing his lips and reaching for the soap. "Turn around, let me wash your back," he says, grinning.
Neal obliges, saying nothing, but turning to present his back. Lance soaps his hands into a fluffy lather, the soap smelling cleanly of lavender and spice. He begins with the back of Neal's neck. Taking his time, he gently laves his way across Neal's firm broad back. Lance's object is to soothe and heal. To express his genuine affection for this strong fine man, in words might be misunderstood, so he endeavors to transmit his feelings through his fingertips. Using fairly firm pressure, he seeks not so much to wash as massage. Nonetheless, touching Neal in any way now causes in him the strongest, hardest erections since he and Martha were youngsters.
Neal places his hands flat on the shower wall for support and leans into them, surrendering to the pleasure of Lance's soothing hands.
Lance's hands descend to Neal's buttocks, kneading and working deep into the muscles there. For easier access, he kneels. When Lance's hand slides soapily under his ass cheeks, Neal spreads his legs wider, adjusting his footing in the slippery shower. Encouraged to experiment, Lance slides two fingers between the firm tight cheeks,washing up and down, first with the two on the left, then the right, alternating several times. The first three times Lance's fingers encounter Neal's tightly puckered anus, he can feel it contract in response.
Neal spreads his legs even farther. Taking this move as an invitation, Lance inserts the tip of his middle finger. "Ooh." Neal gasps. Lance reaches for the soap again, lathering up once more. For the next several minutes, Lance washes Neal's ass thoroughly inside and out, using copious amounts of the fragrant soap and all his fingers at one time or another. Finally, Lance's middle finger is inserted full length between the muscled cheeks, turning back and forth and around, washing deep inside his friend. When he turns his finger fully around, pointing down, he contacts Neal's prostate. Neal's anus squeezes tight around his finger and his hips involuntarily lurch forward, almost dislodging Lance's finger.
Lance removes his finger. Stands. He takes a few moments to thoroughly wash his hands, pausing now and then to caress an ass cheek. Hands cleansed, he speaks for the first time. "Turn around Neal, let me do the front."
Neal complies. His long thin beautiful cock is standing straight out in front of him, brushing against Lance's much fatter, longer shaft. Neal begins to speak. "Lance I. . ."
Lance shushes Neal with a finger to his lips. He reaches down and pulls back his long loose foreskin, reaches for Neal's smaller thinner cock. He puts the heads together, one pink, one darker, purple. Then he slides his foreskin forward to enclose about one third of Neal's penis. Stretching a bit farther, he holds the two dicks, joined together, tightly in his left hand. He puts the soap in Neal's hand, turned palm up. "Hold that," he says.
Lance rubs the soap in Neal's hand with his fingertips. "Close your eyes," he says. He washes Neal's face, gently, sensuously, beginning with his eyelids. He thoroughly washes every space his fingers contact on their journey, even inside and behind the ears. He moves to Neal's neck and shoulders, touching so gently, so softly that every touch brings a new crop of goose bumps to Neal's skin. Neal's nipples, like tight pink pencil erasers, stand up proudly in the center of darker aureoles sprouting a forest of tiny hard bumps. First, Lance washes them using circular motions of thumb and forefinger. Then he bends and briefly suckles at each taut nipple. Neal's reaction to every touch, each caress, is transmitted to Lance through their adjoined cocks and back again. Each tender cock head feels the heat, the pulse, the wetness, of the other.
Lance releases their dicks and steps back half a pace. There is an audible 'tssk' as their cocks plop apart. Lance regains the soap from Neal and soaps his palms again. Next, he thoroughly washes Neal's underarms, his flanks, his taut belly.
Lance goes to one knee, places one foot at a time on his other knee and laves it, top and bottom, under the toes, and each toe individually. In front of his face, Neal's rock hard dick jerks and jumps when each toe is touched. Lance has learned something about his friend. Smiling, he reserves the knowledge for a later time.
At last Lance begins to wash his friend's penis. Neal is so hard, so intensely excited, he nearly cums at the first touch of Lance's insistent hands. His knees go weak and he nearly slips. Lance's arms reach around his hips and buttocks for a moment to steady him. Lance holds back his friend's foreskin with one hand and washes thoroughly round and round the head and around the frenulum. Sliding the foreskin forward, he uses two fingers to wash underneath the foreskin. He uses his cupped fists alternately in long stroking movements to scrub the outside of Neal's cock. He reaches under and thoroughly, but gently massages each ball in its tightening sac.
Lance lifts Neal's form from the wall, guides him under the shower and uses the still hot water to rinse everything. This done he reaches for Neal's hand, guides him out of the shower, pauses in the hall to grab a large fluffy towel, drags him into what is fast becoming 'their' bedroom, and spends several long, long minutes drying every nook and cranny of Neal's body. It occurs to Lance that now he was sure that every part of Neal's body was squeeky clean, (after all he had done it himself), he could now feel free to kiss or lick any body part. This brings a smile to his lips. Once many years ago someone had licked his ass. He remembered it as feeling pretty good once he had recovered from being grossed out.
The men sit on Neal's large bed, perfectly comfortable with each other's nakedness, discussing wives and lovers and almost lovers, successes and failures and might-have-beens. Throughout their prolonged conversation, they touch each other often, here and there, erections blooming and subsiding; free and easy with each other's bodies, attuned to each other very much like new lovers.
Lance, having previously told Neal about his 'other Neal', from the Air Force, now relates the story of his almost sexual encounter on the beach, expressing his great regret at not having followed through, at not having expressed what had clearly been love.
Neal takes Lance's face between his hands, eyes boring into his psyche. "You think that's what we have, Lance. You think it's love?"
"Geez, Neal, I don't know. It's surely something, something important. Maybe discussing it, over thinking it, will ruin it, whatever it is. Right now I think I am too sore, too vulnerable, to make rational decisions. I always said my love for Martha had been a rational decision, with benefits. Huh, did you hear that? I just said 'Martha' and my voice didn't choke. Perhaps I am healing. Thanks to you. Thanks very much to you, my dear dear friend."
"You know, Neal. Something just occurred to me. In all my relationship with my "other Neal' I never kissed him once. And even with Michael, my long time lover, I can only remember kissing him once. Isn't it odd? Kissing another man always seemed much more intimate and strange than say, sucking his cock. In the old days, I would suck a stranger, but I would never have kissed a stranger. And yet, I have no trouble at all kissing you. Maybe that means something."
"Well, kiss me and let's find out. The men kiss, laughing about it, then more deeply, more seriously. Neal interrupts. "You know Lance, if it would make you happy, we could try, er, uh, uh, what you didn't do with 'your other Neal'."
"Wait, ho, I didn't mean to imply that or anything. I wasn't trying to. . . "
"I know that. No sweat, it's not, you know, like that. I just want to make you happy."
Lance breaks into soft laughter. "Well, good buddy, and I sincerely do mean, good buddy, you are being very successful so far. You have made me happier than I have been for many years. Not that life with Martha wasn't happy. It's just those last years, with her cancer and all, er, everything. Well, you know how it is. Battling outside forces one can't control, can't fight, can't win. . . It. . . It takes a lot out of a man. But you. You are the best thing that has happened to me in a good long time. It truly feels like fate, or good karma or something coming back to me."
"I got an idea," Neal says. "Let's get that stupid looking trailer of yours, 'the monster', as I call it stocked up and let's go way off in the woods someplace, just the two of us and rough it, be alone, stay naked all the time, fish for our meals and scratch and fart and drink beer and all that stuff."
"And give up all this luxury?"
"Well, you said 'the monster' does have a big shower."
