Road to Somewhere

Warning: This post may or may not contain words like: sex, hot, naked skin, lubrication, soapy flesh, etc... So, if these are things you wish not to visualize, come back some other day.
I take really really long showers.
Its almost always the first thing I do in the mornings. Drag my ass out of bed, inject it with the needed stimulants, other drugs, and/or food products and then go stand under the steaming hot water until my soul returns to my lifeless body.
Weekdays tend to feel a bit rushed. Don't get me wrong, cause I am still in there for at least twenty minutes, but I know that I can't relax and just absorb the warmth. On weekends though, all thoughts of time and responsibilities are allowed to be washed away. I often stand under the hot water long after I am done washing and my finger tips have shriveled up like a penis in a cold swimming pool.
This isn't a new thing to me. Growing up I was notorious for running the water heater out of hot water, so that my mom had to take a cold shower. Nothing intentional, but I just couldn't get out till I absolutely had to. I remember when I first got to college and realized the dorm had a boiler, so I could stay in the shower as long as I wanted and never run out of hot water!
So, as you may imagine, the shower is a very intimate place for me that I sometimes find even more comforting and relaxing than my bed. In my virginal days, I never saw the shower as a place for sexual encounters or even self pleasure(I never used conditioner for anything, and only recently have the benefits of conditioner over shampoo for self pleasure been explained to me). Even in puberty my showers were more like a giant, extended, warm hug that surrounded my soapy flesh in comfort and security.
It was Heather Dean who first introduced herself to my steamy realm. It was a spring afternoon late in my senior year of high school, and we were at my house hours before we expected my dad or his girlfriend, Shane, to get home. At first, sharing the stream of hot water with another naked body seemed a bit odd, but as my body slid easily over her slick naked flesh, I realized the shower had been transformed in my mind. Our young, inexperienced bodies merged into a slick machine. As the hot water began to fade, we spilled out onto the bathroom floor. Drying each other and marinating a bit in the soothing post sex haze and steam that filled my bathroom.
I guess we may have lingered a bit too long in that moment, because soon we heard Shane at the bottom of the stairs asking if anyone was home. I am sure she saw us come out of the bathroom together, still damp and dripping a bit in the clothes that only seconds before had served as a temporary floor pillow.
Now, sometimes I stand under the stream, elbows into my chest, hands extended in front of me as if waiting for something to be placed in my cupped palms, face up to the ceiling. The hot water pelts off my chest, neck, and forearms. My mind clears. No one can call me here. No one can assail me here. My sanctuary.