It had been a long day, and I was so tired I could barely keep my head up. We’d hiked ten miles to the cabin after a six hour drive from the city. I’d been trapped in the back seat of my friend Pete’s jeep with my worst enemy. His name was Dalton Walsh. We had known each other since I’d started working for the accounting firm two years ago. Dalton was on the fast track to becoming a partner and I had been fresh out of college with a brand new CPA. I’d quickly landed an account of my own and put myself into Dalton’s hateful sights without knowing it.

The account was huge, and I even had to pick two of the interns to help me. Dalton wasted no time letting me know that he thought that he should have been in charge of the account instead of me. I made things worse by refusing to hand it over. I was young and naïve then, so I didn’t know that Dalton was such an asshole. I just saw him as a good looking thirty-something accountant with a great body and perfect blond hair.

He’d made my life a living hell in the early days of my job at the firm, and as the years went by his attitude toward me didn’t falter. He made it next to impossible to enjoy my job for any length of time. I had this thing about not calling in sick, and it seemed that Dalton was healthier than the proverbial horse. Five days a week he made my stomach lurch. He stole my lunch if I forgot and put it in the company kitchen, I never had pencils or erasers in my desk and more than once my wallet was lifted. I learned after the second time to keep my wallet in my front pocket, bring a brand new pack of pencils and erasers every single day and never to bring my lunch to work with me. I was sure that I would be audited after my first year when I claimed every receipt for pencils and erasers on my taxes.

When I learned that we would also be sharing a room at the cabin I nearly lost it. This was my vacation! I was supposed to away from Dalton. Instead I was closer to him than ever. I decided that God hated me. That was the only explanation. Pete knew about my problem with Dalton. He should never have agreed to bring him along. If he’d known about it the whole time then he shouldn’t have asked me to come on this trip.

Deciding to give up and just deal with it later I went up to the room I shared with Satan and crawled into the bed farthest from the bathroom. Surprisingly I fell straight to sleep as my head hit the pillow. I was having the greatest dream when I heard Dalton come into the room. He didn’t even attempt to be quiet so that he wouldn’t wake me. I cracked my eyelids so that I could see him, but he wasn’t looking at me anyway. He just stripped naked and headed for the bathroom.

Now I have to admit that though I hated this man I loved his looks. Seeing him strip off his clothes got to me. There is no way around that little truth. What was even more unnerving was the fact that he didn’t close the bathroom door when he got in there. I heard the shower start and turned on my side so that I could look at the closed door only to find it open. Dalton was standing in front of the sink with his toothbrush. I could only see him in profile but that was enough.

I felt like such a pervert, lying there staring at his naked body. He was perfect, and I hated him for it almost as much as I loathed myself for liking what I was seeing. His legs were muscular and dusted with blond hair. He had the perfect round bubble-butt that looked so tight I imagined a quarter would bounce off of it. His bulging arms were great with just the first hint of burn from the sun we’d gotten on the hike to the cabin. The hairs dusting his arms were a bit lighter in color than those on his legs. It didn’t matter at all though. It just made his arms look even sexier.

As he brushed his teeth I watched. It was as simple as that. I fully expected him to shut the door after he spit in the sink and rinsed his mouth. He didn’t though. He opened the glass shower door and stuck his hand in under the spray to test the temperature before stepping all the way into the shower. At least he closed the shower door.

That didn’t help much though, because although it wasn’t completely transparent I could see through it good enough. It only blurred his body slightly. It was probably just enough to hide the fact that my eyes were open if he happened to look in my direction, so I boldly opened my eyes wide to gander. I’d never watched anyone shower before, so this was a little strange for me. I mean, I did shower after Gym in high school, but no one actually watches anyone in there.

Here I was, though. I couldn’t believe I was doing it, but I was watching with rapt attention. As I watched the water spray over his muscles my mouth went dry. He’d been my tormentor since I’d known him, but Dalton really had a great body. His pecs were well defined, and his brown nipples were perfect. His washboard abs were sexy as hell, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of them for a moment.

Then he turned around, and I was treated to a great view of his muscular ass. He ran his hands over the twin globes as the water cascaded over his shoulders and down his back. Then he lowered his head and let the water splash over his scalp, wetting his blond hair. I watched each group of muscles work as he reached for the bottle of shampoo. As he lathered his hair the muscles in his arms moved. I’d never thought about how magnificent the male body was before. Every movement he made was played out in a dance of his muscles.

Suds traveled down his back and washed over his ass. I watched as his crack was filled with the bubbly white foam. He spread his legs to allow the soapy water to slide off of him, and I could see his balls hanging down. It was a very erotic sight and I couldn’t get enough of it.

After rinsing the suds from his hair he took the bar of soap and began to lather his body. Now I have to tell you that watching those muscles move under the manipulations of his soapy hands was amazing. The suds danced over his abs and into his pubic hair. I loved the way his navel caught some of the suds. He used his index finger to wash the tender skin there and then it was time to wash his pelvis.

I actually sat up to watch this one. His soapy fingers ran through his pubic hair over and over again before he wrapped a soapy hand around his dick. Now I’m not a size queen but that man had quite a piece. He didn’t spend more time than necessary washing himself there. I did notice that it filled out a little, and instead of lying over his low-hanging balls it stood out just a little bit.

Then his hands were caressing his balls, working the soap into the creases in his scrotum. He spread his legs slightly and ran his hands over the insides of his thighs before bending at the waist to soap up his legs. My heart was beating as I thought about what it would be like to run my own hands over his body. I’d never thought of Dalton in that way before, but seeing him shower was just too much. He was a hot guy all right. He was also an asshole. On some level I hated myself for wanting him, but hormones know no boundaries.

When he stood back up I was treated with a vision as the water ran over his body, rinsing the soap. He flexed his abs and pecs a few times, lifted his arms and put his head back. His body seemed to shine as he moved. I watched the suds travel down his body again and finally took a good look at his dick.

It wasn’t overly large, but it was perfect. The skin there was a lot lighter than the rest of him. The mushroom head was slightly purple. I could see that even flaccid the veins stuck out on the shaft. As I’ve already testified, he had nothing to be ashamed of.

His balls filled his scrotum nicely. They were heavy enough to hang low below his flaccid dick. His legs were perfectly shaped and nicely covered with hair just a few shades darker than the blond on his head. As he ran his hands over his body again I decided that my view was over. He would be shutting off the shower soon, and I didn’t want him to find me looking at him. That would have been awful.

I turned onto my side and closed my eyes. I smiled as I thought about what would be running through my mind every time he tried to make me feel stupid. I’d picture him soaping his body and instantly get an erection. At least he couldn’t take that image away from me.


All I Want For Christmas
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