David Walker Craven hauls freight for Red Star Haulage. He has done so for five long, lonely years with only a sarcastic, sexually deprived computer as company. Her name is Miranda, the bane of his existence, but the one he depends on the most as well.
Everything seems to be going along swimmingly. David’s plans of retiring on a desert island, once he has saved up enough money, looks to be in the bag. After each successful haul his dream moves one step closer to reality and all he left behind fades into memory.
Until Miranda detects a life form on board.
A stowaway.
David is soon embroiled in a series of events that involves a dead young man, a legendary being called a shifter and an alien race that scares the absolute shit out of him. Can he survive the events that unravel? Or will his past, present and future catch up with him in ways even he couldn’t have expected? In ways that will change everything…forever.
Hot water cascaded over David’s weary body. He immersed his face in the stream, letting himself become carried away by the sheer joy of being cleaned of the day’s grime. With soap lathered on a flannel, he washed himself. Careful and deliberate, he caressed his weary muscles, rubbed his skin, enjoyed having his own touch across his body.
He dropped the flannel and soap, favouring skin on skin contact.
Soon his hands were at his genitals. He smiled. The water added to the sensation, lubricated his actions, and again, as gentle as he dared, he touched himself, made himself stir. He placed a finger into the mouth of his foreskin, touching his head, sending shivers of delight up his spine and throughout his body. He moaned, working that finger in little circles over his piss slit and down to his coronal rim and frenulum, all the while keeping his foreskin unretracted. He loved the sensation of fingering himself in such a way, his long foreskin stretched right up to the second knuckle of the finger he used to pleasure himself. He knew how he liked it, and in no time at all, he had a full on raging boner. Veins bulging, head as engorged as it ever would be. He smiled. This was beautiful. This was perfect. A man could be his own best friend.
Good thing his foreskin was long, because even in his erect state and horny as hell, he was able to continue his fingering action. His own movement over his head gained in speed and intensity with each passing moment. He closed his eyes tight. His balls tightened and the pangs of ecstasy rose with that wonderful and familiar delight.
With his other hand, he jerked off, still careful not to retract. The inside of his foreskin was just as sensitive and pleasure giving as his ripe head. Both being stimulated in combination was mind blowing, and within several pleasurably heightened heartbeats, shudders of delight consumed him.
In the end, he had to pull his finger out, for his skin was too sensitive even for his own touch. He shuddered some more. His fingers and toes tingled, and nothing would stop him from climax. He was seconds away. His lips, moistened from the water that cascaded all over him, quivered.
David groaned as white, hot ribbons of cum spurted out from his bulging cock. His stomach quivered, his mind overwhelmed by the rush of everything that was an orgasm. Over and over the shower wall was sprayed with his own joy. He was unable to think of anything, do anything, but continue to revel in the rapture his own touch had created.
When spent, he sunk to the floor.
