Shower Gel

I hadn't decided whether or not I ought to call over to him when I went over for a shower. I wondered if maybe his flirting had been an attempt to shock me - he must have known that I was straight when he'd seen Kaz and I on the previous evening. I wanted to show him that I wasn't bothered at all by the idea of being hit on by another guy. I thought it might be fun to walk over to the shower block with him: he was obviously a bit of lad, or fancied himself as such - he might have the audacity ask him to join me in his shower or something. Make a grab for me, or get smutty, like straight lads sometimes do with girls they fancy.

Different possibilities and scenarios presented themselves to me as the water boiled and I spooned coffee into our cups. Maybe he would suggest we take a shower together; maybe use the old "let's save water" routine. I rehearsed my reaction: I'd laugh, and then decline; I'd remind him that I was here with my girlfriend. I wouldn't show any surprise or alarm: just as when he'd rubbed his shorts in front of me, I'd play his game but only to a point.

But then I kept thinking of getting in the shower with him: of him pulling down his football shorts and revealing his round, solid arse and his thick stiffening cock. I kept developing that idea, the scenario of me following him in there, and my cock kept lengthening and pushing so hard against the waistband of my briefs that the sensitive tip of it hurt.

I poured the water into the cups and tried to dismiss the possibility. I would say no. Look amused and recite the girlfriend line. I was getting turned on by the alternative because it had been a few nights since I'd had sex with Kaz. It was natural to start fantasizing about stuff I normally wouldn't think about. I was with her all day, enjoying her company, looking at and admiring her body, and yet I couldn't express my feelings for her at night. I bound to be getting frustrated. Any other guy would in my shoes.

I took a drink from my cup and was, as on previous mornings here, surprised by how its taste was improved by the freshness of the air. I took another swig, savouring the moment, and then looked back in on Kaz. I shook her leg gently and told her there was coffee waiting for her. She groaned and turned over. I thought I'd leave her a little longer. I drew my rucksack out of the tent and pulled on a pair of tracksuit bottoms from it.

Then I walked over to the car and retrieved my towel which had been drying on the back seat. As I did so I noticed that the guy in the football shirt was reaching into their tent and pulling out his towel and a sports bag. His mate was lying on his back looking up at the sky, his cup in one hand. His legs were bent at the knee but wide open so that I could see that his cock and balls were making an impressive mound in his tight white briefs.

I slammed the car door shut and the guy in the football shirt looked over at me. He gave me the thumbs and I grinned. Then I started walking towards the shower block. As I expected, I'd only walked ten feet or so when he caught me up.

He immediately asked, "You two here long, then?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Probably for the rest of the week. We'll see if the weather holds."

He said, "We're travelling around. We're going over to the Isle of Mann today. Catching the ferry."

We walked past a family having breakfast outside their caravan.

Then he said, "Is she your girlfriend then?"

The guy clearly wasn't a believer in beating around the bush.

I smiled. "Yeah."

He said, "Mine couldn't get the week off work. Sometimes it's better with a guy though. More fun."

I smiled more broadly, almost laughing. "Yeah. Right."

He continued, smirking, "You can do more with a guy. More possibilities. You know what I mean?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I know exactly what you mean."

I was amused by him and wondered if this was his way of flirting or if he was just trying to unsettle a straight Southern guy. I decided to play along.

I said, "And guys like doing the same kind of stuff, usually."

He laughed, "You got it in one. Fuckin' spot on. Two guys both know what each other likes. No pissin' about."

I added, grinning, "You can go farther, faster."

He laughed again. "Too fuckin' right, mate."

We reached the male toilet and shower block and walked inside. The front part of the building had toilets down one side and urinals and sinks down the other. A couple of older guys were standing at the sinks, washing and shaving, and a young lad was pissing into one of the urinals.

We walked past them and I opened the adjoining door into the shower area for him. As if to explain, I said, "They're through here."

He smiled and walked through.

The room was warm and filled with condensation and smells of soap and deodorant. There were five or six shower stalls, none of which were being used. I guess most people have showered and gone by ten o'clock in the morning.

The guy walked down the row of stalls and stood outside two of them at the far end of the room. He said, "This pair look pretty clean."

I followed him down, wondering if he'd make a move on me or try to suggest we use the same cubicle. My rejection was ready: my hard-on had eased and any temptations I'd experienced earlier had subsided along with it. However, he did neither: he just stood between the two cubicle doors, inviting me to use one of them.

I looked into the stall of the nearest one. It looked pretty clean; as good as you'd expect in a campsite shower block. I said, "Looks cool."

He said, "Nice one." Then he disappeared into the adjoining cubicle and banged the door shut.

I went into my own cubicle and closed the door. I felt a bit disappointed that he hadn't come onto me. The thought that he might not be gay at all flashed through my mind and then I mentally derided myself for supposing he must be straight just because he hadn't made a move on me.

I pulled off my teeshirt and then took off tracksuit bottoms and briefs. Then I fished around for some change to put into the machine to start the shower. As I was doing so, I heard the shower next door switch on and the spray turn into a irregular spatters as he stepped into it.

My own shower sputtered into action and warmed up rapidly. I got under it. The temperature was slightly hotter than I'd have liked, but I didn't want risk messing it up irrevocably by trying to turn the knob on the wall. I knew from past experiences with camp site showers that trying to change the temperature usually results in being scalded or frozen.

I poured some shower gel onto my hand and started washing my chest and stomach with it.

It was then that I noticed that one of the wooden bars of the partition dividing my shower with that of the guy next door was missing. The gap was at chest height and I glanced through it to see his hip and the side of his arse as he washed himself. I felt an automatic wave of aversion: this was another guy I was spying on; men don't normally peep on other men in the nude.

I looked away and got on with my shower, lathering shower gel into my cock and balls and washing them thoroughly. As I was doing so, I glanced through the gap again. I noticed that the guy had turned to face me and was also washing his cock and balls. I immediately looked away and then, after a few seconds, curiosity got the better of me and I looked back at him.

His cock was large and thick and hung heavily over the top of his balls. His red bell end was partially exposed like he'd pulled it back to wash himself. He rubbed soap into the pubic hair on either side of his cock, rubbing his hands up and down on the insides of his thighs. Then he turned his attention to his thickly haired ball sac, lathering soap into it, pushing his thick cock from side to side as he did so.

I washed my own cock as I watched him washing his. I pulled my foreskin back to expose my own, more purple, bell end, and lathered soap into my balls and pubic hair. I realised that my cock was starting to thicken out and grow stiffer, partly in response to the attentions of my soapy hands, and partly in response to the novelty of watching another guy washing his cock. I looked down at it and saw that it was standing out from my balls and growing thicker and chunkier. It looked good. I marvelled at how, as a blond guy, my pubic hair was so much lighter than the guy in the next shower's, and how my balls hung low between my legs like a couple of eggs in a sock, whereas his were firm inside his solid-looking scrotum.