Sullivan's Shower

I hit the last note and threw my drum sticks to the ground as the stadium went dark. The fans screamed for more, but little did they know that we had just played our final encore song and we were all ready to retire for the night. I stood up from my stool and stretched, my muscles screaming in protest.
My arms and back ached and I was drenched in sweat. My hair stuck up at crazy angles, (well, it usually does but it was exceptionally crazy at the moment,) and I probably smelled terrible.
But I sure as hell didn’t care.
There was nothing I loved more than getting paid to do my favorite thing: banging on the drums on stage with my four best friends for a shit ton of people who loved to hear us make music.
I walked off the stage and began making my way to the back, grabbing a beer from one of the stage crew dudes. I downed it and took another. I was parched, tired, and a little light headed form the stupid fog machines.
Damn special effects managers... I thought.
I made my way to the dressing room, or whatever you would call it, and found my buddies lounging on the various sofas and chairs in the room.
“Hey Jim ” they all shouted and waved, offering me more alcohol and a seat. I denied and mumbled something about heading to the bus for a shower.
All I wanted was a shower.
Eight months on a cramped tour bus with four -and sometimes more- people can be really irritating and claustrophobic. Showers were just about the only time I got to myself.
Well unless someone decided to take a dump while you were in there.
I opened the door and stepped outside, running to and getting on the bus before any left over fan girls could mug me.
I basked in the peace and quiet of the bus as I grabbed a towel and locked the bathroom door.
The bathroom wasn’t much. It was tiny and hospital room white, but definitely not as clean as a hospital would be.
I dropped my pants onto the floor and pulled my shirt over my head, then turned the hot water handle all the way up, slowly turning the cold handle until the spray was the perfect temperature.
I stepped into the spray and pulled the curtain closed, letting the steam fill the compartment.
The water cascaded down my back, soothing my aching muscles and washing the sweat and dirt from my body.
I grabbed the bar of soap and began lathering it in my hands, then running it along my arms and chest. I set it down and scrubbed my upper body with my hands, getting my underarms and behind my ears. Then I rinsed and shampooed my hair, watching the soap go down the drain in a tiny tornado.
I let out a sigh and laid my head against the shower wall.
Man, I was tired of this tour. Being away form home for eight months sucked ass. After the first month or two, you get really tired of eating Ramen Noodles and Twinkies, and you realize how comfortable your own bed is. You get tired of being with the same people, even though they’re your best friends. They get annoying after a while, and you really begin to miss video games.
I missed my own bed, I missed my moms cooking, video games, privacy and I missed my girlfriend, Leana.
God, I missed her with my whole being. I missed her smile and her eyes. I hated sleeping alone. The nights I lay awake, waiting for sleep to overcome me were agonizing without her.
I wanted someone to rub my shoulders and kiss me good night. Someone to cuddle with and wake up to.
I closed my eyes and tried to picture her. I imagined her beautiful hair and face, her amazing eyes and lips and her cute little nose.
I imagined kissing those lips, letting my tongue run across her full bottom lip.
I imagined pushing her up against the wall and grinding against her.
My cock hardened in response.
I imagined the noises she would make when I kissed her neck and nibbled on her ear lobe.
I wrapped my hand around my dick and began to gently stroke it, still imagining Leana.
I thought about how her wonderfully full breasts would feel in my palms, and how they would taste under my tongue.
I grunted, moving my hand faster along my length, my core tightening.
I imagined how she would cry out in pleasure when I slammed into her moist folds, slowly bringing her to her peak, and how my name would come to her lips as I finally pushed her over the edge.
My core tightened more as I sped up. I grunted as it finally released and I let my load out onto the shower floor and down the drain.
God, I missed her! I hoped she was safe and well. I hadn’t talked to her for a few days...
I wished I could hold her...
This brought an idea into my head.
I shut off the shower and got out, drying off with the towel and wrapping it around my waist.
I walked out of the bathroom and to my bunk, grabbing a pad of paper and a pen.
I threw myself onto the bed, put the pen to the paper and began to write.
”Dear God, the only thing I ask of you...”