Crying for the Moon Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Sarah Madison
solved. You take a shower while I get dinner started. Then you can take over and I’ll clear out before your friends get here. My pleasure. Now beat it.” Tate made shooing motions toward the door.
Alex gave in. After all, what could happen?
W HAT happened was that Alex lost track of time in the shower. It was one of his few indulgences these days: a long, hot shower. The first thing he’d done on moving in was crank the temperature up to near scalding on the hot water heater thermostat. Come to think of it, that might explain the electric bill .
He’d spent so much time at the local home-improvement store purchasing supplies that he’d started sitting in on several of their Saturday afternoon classes and had come away confident in his ability to change the fixture in the antique tub. Gone was the showerhead that resembled the end of a watering pot; in its place was a sleek new piece that had multiple settings, including a pulsating massager. It attached to a long, snakelike cable that allowed it to disconnect from the overhead stand. Until the recent problem with the filters, the water pressure had been mercifully strong, even at the top of the old house.
Alex turned on the taps and waited out the spluttering as he took off his dirty clothes again, allowing the room to fill with steam before stepping into the tub. Overhead, the old metal frame supported a new, shiny curtain, the smell of the plastic sharp in his nose as the water began to heat up. Standing under the pulsating spray was a sensual experience that he craved, having chosen to deny himself most of his pleasures these days. You’ve given up the coffin, you’ve give up the feasting; you deserve this. It was hard to deny his thoughts when they sounded so very right.
He’d seen a lot of marvels develop through the centuries but nothing compared to indoor plumbing. Hot showers topped the list of the best all-time inventions ever, as far as he was concerned.
He picked up a bottle of body wash, pouring out a generous amount into his hands, and inhaled the fresh, tangy scent of eucalyptus and spearmint as he lathered up his skin. It reminded him of other times, other eras, and he reminisced for a moment of events long gone and lost to him now. It was foolish, he knew. There was nothing there in his past that he really wanted anymore—at least, not anything he could have. Just the nostalgia remained. You should think about getting a hot tub . He smiled at the thought.
The heated spray began to work its way into muscles he had not known were tight, and he flexed his shoulders into the water, relishing the soreness that came from doing hard, physical work. It would seem that fixing up the house was good for him in more ways than one. He thought suddenly of Tate, in his lean, muscular perfection, there in the half-light of the basement. The image of Tate in bright, emerald-green swim trunks flashed into his head, and Alex’s hands began to slow, languorously sliding across his skin as he soaped his body.
He could see Tate now, sinking into a foaming hot tub with a look of bliss on his face. Tate, swallowing from a cold bottle of beer, watching Alex as he did so. It would be night; the tub would be outside, the air brisk with the autumn chill. The only light would come from within the tub, and steam would rise into the darkness.
Alex let the water pound down onto his neck and shoulders; the vapor filled the small room. He could imagine himself in the hot tub as well, easing down in the water across from Tate and smiling at him through the steam. He let his hand slide down his belly as he developed the fantasy. He remembered the way the light from the overhead bulb accentuated Tate’s arms and how he could make out the beat of Tate’s pulse just under his skin. Using the body wash, Alex lathered up his cock until he was slick with soap. Fully erect now, he pushed his foreskin back as his cock jutted out straight in front of him. He braced one
Alex gave in. After all, what could happen?
W HAT happened was that Alex lost track of time in the shower. It was one of his few indulgences these days: a long, hot shower. The first thing he’d done on moving in was crank the temperature up to near scalding on the hot water heater thermostat. Come to think of it, that might explain the electric bill .
He’d spent so much time at the local home-improvement store purchasing supplies that he’d started sitting in on several of their Saturday afternoon classes and had come away confident in his ability to change the fixture in the antique tub. Gone was the showerhead that resembled the end of a watering pot; in its place was a sleek new piece that had multiple settings, including a pulsating massager. It attached to a long, snakelike cable that allowed it to disconnect from the overhead stand. Until the recent problem with the filters, the water pressure had been mercifully strong, even at the top of the old house.
Alex turned on the taps and waited out the spluttering as he took off his dirty clothes again, allowing the room to fill with steam before stepping into the tub. Overhead, the old metal frame supported a new, shiny curtain, the smell of the plastic sharp in his nose as the water began to heat up. Standing under the pulsating spray was a sensual experience that he craved, having chosen to deny himself most of his pleasures these days. You’ve given up the coffin, you’ve give up the feasting; you deserve this. It was hard to deny his thoughts when they sounded so very right.
He’d seen a lot of marvels develop through the centuries but nothing compared to indoor plumbing. Hot showers topped the list of the best all-time inventions ever, as far as he was concerned.
He picked up a bottle of body wash, pouring out a generous amount into his hands, and inhaled the fresh, tangy scent of eucalyptus and spearmint as he lathered up his skin. It reminded him of other times, other eras, and he reminisced for a moment of events long gone and lost to him now. It was foolish, he knew. There was nothing there in his past that he really wanted anymore—at least, not anything he could have. Just the nostalgia remained. You should think about getting a hot tub . He smiled at the thought.
The heated spray began to work its way into muscles he had not known were tight, and he flexed his shoulders into the water, relishing the soreness that came from doing hard, physical work. It would seem that fixing up the house was good for him in more ways than one. He thought suddenly of Tate, in his lean, muscular perfection, there in the half-light of the basement. The image of Tate in bright, emerald-green swim trunks flashed into his head, and Alex’s hands began to slow, languorously sliding across his skin as he soaped his body.
He could see Tate now, sinking into a foaming hot tub with a look of bliss on his face. Tate, swallowing from a cold bottle of beer, watching Alex as he did so. It would be night; the tub would be outside, the air brisk with the autumn chill. The only light would come from within the tub, and steam would rise into the darkness.
Alex let the water pound down onto his neck and shoulders; the vapor filled the small room. He could imagine himself in the hot tub as well, easing down in the water across from Tate and smiling at him through the steam. He let his hand slide down his belly as he developed the fantasy. He remembered the way the light from the overhead bulb accentuated Tate’s arms and how he could make out the beat of Tate’s pulse just under his skin. Using the body wash, Alex lathered up his cock until he was slick with soap. Fully erect now, he pushed his foreskin back as his cock jutted out straight in front of him. He braced one