"You're sopping wet!" Harry exclaimed when he opened the door.
"No kidding," James retorted dryly. "I was a halfway to my car when the sky opened up and dumped buckets on me. I figured that I could dry out here while I visited."
"Sure, no problem," Harry said. He watched as James slipped his shoes off. A plan began to take shape in his mind and he smiled inwardly. "It's 55 degrees outside. You've got to get out of those wet clothes before you catch cold. Give them to me and I'll toss them in the dryer. They'll be dry in 15 minutes."
"Geez, Harry!" James swore as he shook his head. "You'll do anything to get into my pants, won't you?"
"Yes," Harry agreed with a grin. "Almost anything. Now strip!"
The two men stared at one another, and in his peripheral vision Harry noticed a tremor shake James' body. The inward smile suddenly turned into a silent shout of glee.
"Look at you," Harry said worriedly once James had lowered his eyes, "You're shivering. Now march right into the bathroom, hand me out your clothes, and jump into the shower. A nice hot shower. Make that skin glow pink," he directed.
He placed his hand on James' shoulder, turned him in the right direction, and gave a gentle shove. "Your clothes will be dry before you are," he promised.
James started hesitantly toward the bathroom, then he seemed to make up his mind. His steps quickened, and his hand moved up and began unbuttoning his shirt.
"Act One complete," Harry thought to himself as he followed James to the bathroom, "Time to set the scene for Act Two."
He stopped just outside the door and waited patiently for James' clothing. Once it had all been handed out, he began to close the door, but stopped just before it was closed. Opening it slightly, he called in, "How about a cup of coffee? Light and sweet, right?"
"That would be great," answered James from behind the relative safety of the door.
Harry shut the door gently. He held his breath. No sound came from the bathroom, and then Harry heard the hiss of the shower. He emptied his lungs, and began to walk away. "Silly boy," he whispered, "he didn't lock the door!" The shouts of glee that had been echoing through Harry's mind now transformed themselves into a slow, moving piece of music. Heavy with bass, it set his nerves on edge and quickened his heartbeat and breathing. Like countless men before him throughout the ages, his body began to prepare itself for flight, fight - or sex!
He tossed the clothes into the dryer, but not before he examined James' briefs. "Interesting," he thought to himself as he fingered the stretchy black fabric. "Nylon spandex, I think. So, my little cockteaser likes sexy men's underwear, too." The briefs joined the rest of the clothes and was set spinning. Harry moved into the kitchen, humming along with the music.
"Well would you look at that," he said to the stove, "There's already a pot of coffee made." He paused and pretended to think. "What do you think? Should I bring James his cup of coffee right now so he can drink it while he towels himself dry?" The stove didn't answer so Harry took its silence for agreement.
Harry poured. He sugared. He milked. He stirred.
Coffee mug in hand, he turned back towards the bathroom. Pausing with his hand on the doorknob, he announced aloud, "Ladies and gentlemen. For your viewing pleasure - the third and final act!" The audience of pillows silently applauded and the orchestra in Harry's mind began to play louder.
Carefully and soundlessly, Harry opened the door.
He stepped in and walked directly into the shower.
The sight that greeted him caused him to slosh coffee onto his hand and very nearly ruined his plan. And at that same moment, the chorus chose that same moment to join the band. The combination of the mellifluous voices and the vision that beheld him made him gasp out loud.
But James did not hear, for he was rinsing his hair, and the water beating down on his head and around his ears drowned out Harry's gasp of surprise - and pleasure.
For what Harry saw was beyond anything his mind had conjured up for him in the few minutes that his plan had been conceived, lay gestating, and was finally born there in his shower on the wet tile floor.
For James stood there facing him, his eyes closed as the suds cascaded off his head and slithered down his glistening body.
Unnoticed, Harry observed one clump of bubbly froth trace a path across James' shoulder and down the center of his chest. Harry watched as it slid downwards, just missing James' nipple, which was deep pink in color and ringed with sparse, dark hairs. Propelled by gravity, the bubbles continued downwards. Propelled by deepening desire, Harry watched, enthralled. Speeding up, the bubbles raced across James' nearly hairless stomach until finally coming to rest in his pubic hairs, where Harry saw them slowly dissolve away. Surprisingly, their absence caught Harry's attention and gave him pause, for he noticed how short the hair down there was. So short that they could not begin to hide the penis below. And a beautiful cock it was! Just dangling there in a dormant state, Harry could tell it would be one of average length but above average girth for the glans was wide and sharply flared. Above it, the shaft was marked by a darker ring of scar tissue halfway up, and Harry could not help but wonder what its final dimensions might be. But even as he began to wonder what James' cock would look and feel like once it was engorged with blood and fully erect, another thought crossed his mind.
"I wonder if he cuts his pubic hair all the time, or if he did it just for me," he mused.
And with this thought a new plan took shape. A plan only one step beyond his previous one of just seeing James nude. A plan which now took hold of him and seemed to consume him - body, mind, and soul. A plan from which he vowed to himself there was no turning back.. A plan so simple, he was surprised he didn't think of it first. A plan to have James.
To give him pleasure. To give him love. To make him come. In the shower. In his mouth. Today. Now.
Harry finally spoke, "I brought your coffee."
The sudden and surprising intrusion of his voice had the desired effect. James' eyes flew open and his head moved back. And as his hands moved from his head to his crotch in a belated attempt to cover himself, a terrible and yet wonderful thing happened. A wave of bubbles released their hold on his hair, cascaded down his forehead, and plunged directly into his "deer in the headlights" eyes.
