Running in the Rain Ch. 01

"We're near my house. Why don't you come in and we'll wait the rest of this out," I said to Barry.

"Thanks, that would be great. It's getting a little slippery."

"Let's go to the back door so we don't drip on the rug."

We headed up my driveway and around to the back of the house. I fumbled in my wet shorts for my keys. Now that we had stopped moving I was getting chilled, and my hands shook as I tried to unlock the door. Finally we got in and stood in the middle of the kitchen floor, teeth chattering, jumping up and down, trying without success to get warm as puddles of water formed at our feet on the linoleum. An air-conditioned draft blew in an arctic blast around us.

"Shit, I'm fucking freezing."

"The bathroom's down the hall to the left. Get in a hot shower," I told Barry.

He looked at me. "You're shaking too. Want to join me?"

A fresh chill struck me at that moment and I shivered violently. "There isn't room for two. I'll go in the upstairs bathroom. I'll bring you something to put on. There should be a towel there. "

"Thanks." He disappeared down the hall. Now I had to do something to get warm. There were extra towels in a linen closet upstairs and I made a beeline for the stairs.

In the second-floor hallway I stripped off my soaking running clothes, heedless of the mess I was making. I pulled out piles of towels, took the largest one I could find and rubbed myself vigorously to get the circulation going again. No matter how much I tried I couldn't seem to get warm. My feet were numb and my teeth chattered uncontrollably.

I knew the water heater in the house didn't have enough capacity to supply both showers with enough hot water at the same time. If I tried to use the shower in my own bathroom Barry's would get cold.

In a moment my feet were moving of their own accord down the stairs and toward the bathroom on the first floor. I paused at the door, hearing the sound of running water. I knocked loudly and walked in without waiting for an answer.

The first-floor shower was a stand-up compartment, encased in frosted glass. Barry's clothes and shoes were in a sodden heap on the floor. I saw him huddled underneath the steamy spray. He looked up, startled, when I came in, and opened the shower door.

"I... there isn't enough hot water for both showers," I began.

Barry took in the situation at once. "You're going to catch pneumonia. Get in."

I swear I had no thoughts at that moment other than getting warm. I threw off the towel around my waist, stepped in and let the hot spray wash over me, throwing my head back and sighing as the heat began to creep in and vanquish the chill.

The compartment was small, built for a single person, and Barry stood only a foot or so away from me. After a while I had to look at him. I had never seen him naked before. His shoulders were wide, his pectoral muscles defined and symmetrical, topped with large, dark nipples and furred with hair, matted against his skin at the moment by the water. Hair outlined the ridges on his stomach and thickened as it descended toward his crotch. My eyes followed the stream of rushing water down his body, to the cut cock and dangling balls nestling in another dark thicket, impressive in repose. I thought of what his cock might look like hard.

Then I saw a hand, Barry's hand, take hold of the genitals at which I was staring. I raised my head and looked into my friend's smiling face. There was no way I could pretend I'd been looking elsewhere. I started to babble, sounding ridiculous even to myself.

"Sorry," I said. "I was just so cold."

He shook his head, still smiling. "It's okay." I hoped he would get out, but he didn't leave.

"Do you need to get under the water again? Are you still cold?"

He shook his head again. His steady gaze sent a wave of heat surging through my body that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. To my appalled surprise I felt myself getting hard.

"Poor Sean," Barry said softly, barely audible above the sound of the rushing water. "Your teeth are still chattering," and with that he stepped forward and put his arms around me.

"What are you doing?" I stiffened and tried to push him away, but not for nothing was Barry built the way he was. He tightened his grip and I was trapped. My arms were pinned against my sides and the shower was too small for me to get any sort of leverage against his body. Besides, something strange was happening. The more I struggled the harder my cock became. I felt something else hard pressing against my stomach as well.

"Sean, Sean," Barry said, close to my ear. "Don't be scared. Let yourself go. You know you want to."

The futile struggle, the heat of the rushing water, the hardness of his body against mine--it all overwhelmed me. Without meaning to I sagged against him. In response, Barry relaxed his grip just enough for me to raise my arms. My hands slid over his strong back and suddenly we were locked in a fierce embrace.

"Sean," Barry said again. His hands roved over my wet skin, caressing, then slipped between our bodies. I felt one hand grip my cock as he pressed his mouth to mine. No, my brain said, and I resisted for a moment, shaking my head back and forth, before I yielded. His tongue darted in, not hesitant like Patti's when we made out, but demanding and urgent. I kissed him back, gripping his head as if to weld our mouths together.

Finally we broke apart and Barry drew back, looking into my eyes. "You are so gorgeous." His face disappeared from view as he knelt. I looked down in time to see him grasp my cock and take it into his mouth.

Pleasure surged through me. I raised my head and let out a soft moan, which turned into a startled cry as the stream pelting down on us abruptly turned cold. The hot water had run out.

I turned and quickly twisted the knob to "off." Laughing and cursing, we climbed out of the shower and took our towels, drying each other off, teasing each other, grabbing each other's cocks and horsing around. Suddenly I stopped. We fell silent, panting.

"What is it, Sean?"

I tried to grasp the enormity of the step I was on the edge of taking. I looked at my friend, naked and beautiful, his hair damp, his expression quizzical. He was the only one to whom I could appeal for guidance.

"What am I doing?" I asked him.

Through all that's happened, I've held on to what Barry said next, because I think he meant it.

"You're doing what's right," he answered. When I stayed silent he raised a hand slowly and touched my face. I kissed his palm. We didn't let go of each other for the next few hours.

TO BE CONTINUED