Early the next morning Chris got out of bed. He put on his running clothes, laced his sneakers, brushed his teeth and rinsed his face. As he descended the stairs he saw his mother and father bustling around in a hurry, getting ready for work. He quickly drank a mug of coffee from the pot that Tessa had made, set his watch, plugged in his earphones and left the house. He took an easy six mile run around the neighbouring suburbs. He loved being out so early in the morning; the air was fresh and the roads had a life of their own, of people heading for work and going about their morning business. The streets were quieter than usual because it was school holidays which gave him the impression that he was getting a head start, while all the other kids were still lying in bed he was getting fit.
He made it back home after an hour drenched in sweat. The humidity had already risen quite significantly in just the hour he was out. He paused at the front door to check the time on his witch and made his way through the kitchen to the attached laundry. He started pulling off his shirt when to his surprise, he noticed his laundry hamper pushed up against the washing machine with a note that read: "Do your own laundry pig, you're stinking up my cottage - S." He felt a rush of irritation dissipate the runner's high he had briefly enjoyed as he finished his run. He stripped right down right there and tossed his running clothes, along with the contents of his laundry hamper into the washing machine. He turned the dial and hurried, naked, two steps at a time, up the staircase and slammed his door.
"Her cottage? Who the hell does she think she is?" He said out loud as he strolled over to the shower. It occurred to him that he didn't check to see if she might have seen him naked while he started the washing and dashed upstairs. 'Oh well,' he said to himself as he shrugged, and then laughed to himself. She doesn't live here anymore, so while mom and dad are out, I'll do whatever the fuck I want. This feeling of de facto authority, mixed with the energy he felt from his run, boosted his audaciousness. It also gave him a bulging erection. He adjusted the water temperature and stepped into its prickly downpour. He ran his fingers through his soaked hair, down his torso and to his groin. He glided his fingertips over his balls, up to the base of his cock and then along its velvety length to its sensitive tip. The delicate sensation from his fingertips made his cock twitch. He cupped the underside of his cock in the palm of his hand. He knew that he wasn't massive but he liked how thick he looked and felt in his fist. He stroked back and forth and felt a rippling sensation of pleasure traverse through his clenched ass and upper thighs. He thrust his hips forward as though he was fucking an imaginary cunt.
He closed his eyes and pictured his latest hentai drawing. He was exploring this mental image when all of a sudden Sadie's dismissive and insolent note appeared in his mind's eye. He continued to stroke himself and tried to dismiss this irrelevant and demeaning image from his imagination. But to no avail. And then he began to realise that something about it excited him, he couldn't quite grasp why. He forced himself to visualise the hentai drawing but Sadie's note, again, surfaced in his mind. He should be pissed off at that note she wrote, but he wasn't, he felt quite the opposite. He concentrated on the words, "Do your own laundry pig, you're stinking up my cottage - S." And felt himself beginning to reach climax. He pumped his cock harder and faster as he pushed himself onto the balls of his feet and moaned out loud. He had to hold on to the upright shower conduit as his orgasm shook him. He squirted thick coils of stringy cum onto the teal mosaic tiles of the shower wall and watched as it slithered down and curled into the drain between his feet.
He was suddenly out of breath from cumming so hard and from the steam that that now filled the shower. He switched off the taps, grabbed his towel and dashed toward the bathroom door. The cooler air in his bedroom was a welcome relief, although he was drenched in a mixture of water and perspiration. He collapsed on his bed, a forearm thrust over his closed eyes and contemplated his bizarre shower masturbation scene. He couldn't remember the last time he had had such a powerful orgasm. 'Fuck me,' he thought. That one hit the ball out the park. He thought back to the note Sadie had written. He thought it strange that it should provoke in him such a peculiar state of eroticism. 'Must be just a once off thing,' he surmised. He looked down at his cock, it lay flaccid and calm, as if nothing had happened. He got dressed and went downstairs to fix a ravenous hunger that had overcome him.
Chris used some of the ingredients from the lunch of the previous day to make a sandwich and poured himself a tall glass of orange juice. He arranged his makeshift breakfast on a long wooden tray, and placed it on the coffee table in the living room while he set up up his PlayStaion. The game he was into at the moment was Call of Duty. He didn't enjoy as much for the action scenes or killing but for the mere escapism of it. By nature he actually detested wars and the absurdity of mass organised violence, but at the same time, he was fascinated by them. It was a kind of internal conflict that bothered him and ironically the escapism of this game was what brought him some relief from this inner turmoil.
He was busy manoeuvring the controls with a level of dexterity when he became aware of a presence beside him. It was Sadie. She had slipped in unnoticed, due to the general sound effects of the game, and stood right next to his chair. He turned and looked up at her. She had tied her hair up in a bun and wore a Pixies T-shirt, grey sweat pants and a fluffy pair of open-toe slippers. Her toenails were painted dark blue. He couldn't help draw his attention to the silver lip ring, that occupied the right corner of her mouth. He wondered briefly about how comfortable it was. All he could think to say was, "Hey."
