Or maybe a warm shower

Authors Note: Yo Yo! Thanks for reading. This story is a pleasure to work on. The latest chapter (Chapter 9) actually just came out this week on Patreon as the whole house goes on vacation, so if you want to check it out, please do! Got plenty of new stories coming out every week as well and polls, so I try to make it worth your while:

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Dear Michael,

Sorry it’s been so long since I’ve written, but things have kind of fallen into a pretty regular pattern. I work all day, come home, have a small dinner while Brady feasts, and I get to spend some time with my wife before she and Brady head off to bed while I sleep on the couch. To be honest, my couch time was supposed to run out a couple of days ago, but I’ve been having the best sleep I’ve ever had in my life. So even though I could bring it up, I’ve chosen to keep it to myself. I hope Catherine isn’t too bummed about it. Although, I see her smiling too whenever she leaves the bedroom, so I’m sure she’s not too frustrated.

One thing that took a lot of getting used to, but now I’m really appreciative of, is my wife’s large breasts. I mean, seriously, her tits were always one of my favorite parts of her, aside from her sweet and ambitious personality, of course. But, ever since she decided to stop being sexualized by men and allow herself free expression, her decision to walk around completely topless in our house has been a welcome gift. Now, whenever I get home from work, I have this beautiful sight of my wife walking around with those large “fuck bags” of hers, as she calls them, laying on her chest, and if it was a particularly stressful day, I just go up and grab them like stress balls. It’s quite the deal, and it always makes her smile.

The only downside of this arrangement is that Brady has grown quite accustomed to also enjoying this wonderful view of my wife doing everything around the house topless. Her swinging tits while she cleans, her breasts pressed up against the glass while she washes the windows, or just fully in his face while she gives him a relaxing shoulder massage while straddling him, since that’s the only way she can get the best angles. He always takes those opportunities to bite one of her nipples or just motorboat her the whole time. It seems like he never gets tired of it. He also takes plenty of pictures, sending them to his friends or posting them online for other people to see. At first, I thought it was weird and I berated him for it, but Catherine explained to me how I shouldn’t treat it any differently than if he just asked her to smile for a regular picture. The only difference, of course, was that her tits were fully out for the entire world to see, but like she said, that was just me sexualizing her, so I shouldn’t judge her for that. Sometimes I can be worse than Brady, I guess.

Yep, honestly, things haven’t been too bad. I’ve even moved my pillows out onto the couch full-time.

The only thing I really have any concerns about is the smell. Brady is a big guy, he’s hairy, and he loves to go out and do some exercising with his buddies in the sun. That’s all fine, but he comes home all sweaty, and I swear he hasn’t showered in about a week because the body odor is terrible. It’s like the moment I step into the house, my nose is assaulted by a SWAT team made up of terrible smells. I’ve already had to do the laundry twice for him just because of how sweaty his clothes were, but it doesn’t change the fact that the man himself stinks like a dumpster on a sunny day. For her part, Catherine has been an absolute sweetheart, saying that she even kind of likes the smell. Sure, baby. So, today I decided to talk to him about it.

It was about 6 o’clock. It was a Friday, so I was finally off of work for the week, and I decided to put an extra hour in after my shift to make a little extra money since Brady had taken about 25% of my last paycheck. Rightfully so, since he lives in the house and about 25% of my paycheck goes to Catherine, so it’s only fair that he receives his portion too, I guess.

Anyways, I made it home to find Brady cutting his nails on the couch, bits of his crusty toenails flying onto the ground. He was wearing boxers and, much like my wife, though much less enjoyable, was also topless, showing off his big hairy chest and fat belly.

“Yo bro, welcome home. Did you get the beer like I texted you to?” His pungent smell filled every crevice in my nostrils.

“No, sorry, I missed your text.” Dammit. I knew I had forgotten something. “But actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about if that’s cool.”

He didn’t answer me for a second while he focused on getting the exact right cut on one of his toenails. Clip. “Yeah bro, what’s up?”

I figured this would be easier without Catherine in the room, since sometimes she can be a little bit easy on him because of her kind heart. “So, when’s the last time you showered?”

“Showered?” He seemed genuinely confused, and I didn’t know if he didn’t know what the word meant or if he was legitimately surprised by the question. “Oh, you mean because of the smell.” He started laughing.

“Yeah, I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just… distracting.” I went to go lay down my stuff on the living room table. Lately, everything had become kind of a mess since I moved a lot of my belongings out into the living room, and Catherine spent so much time doing things for Brady that some of the housework had fallen behind.

All of Brady’s clothes were washed, and all his dishes were done, but mine and Catherine’s clothes were starting to pile up in Catherine and Brady’s room and in my corner of the living room. I even found a pair of discarded panties in the kitchen yesterday, which Catherine told me she hadn’t had time to put away. I don’t know why she took them off in the kitchen anyway. Brady gets onto us for being so messy, so obviously we apologize for being bad hosts and give him an extra hundred dollars for his troubles.

“Yeah, man, I don’t mean to smell so bad, but I think I forgot how to shower. It’s just so confusing with the knob and stuff, and what do I even clean? So I just haven’t been doing it because I’ve been too embarrassed to ask for help.”

At last, the secret revealed itself. I should’ve known. Brady had always been an idiot; his strength didn’t come with brains, so it made sense that he couldn’t figure out something as simple as a shower. “Well, why didn’t you say so? I can show you a YouTube video or just tell you how to do it.” Showing my intellectual superiority over him sounded like a nice idea.

“I’m really a hands-on learner,” he said.

“Oh,” I called out from the kitchen while grabbing a sparkling water, “well, I mean, if you really need help, then I could be there.”

“No, what the fuck. That’s gay.”

There it is, the juvenile term. I guess in this instance it at least made a certain amount of sense. Not like when he called my SAT scores gay, or the pink shirt my mom had got me for graduation gay, or when he called me and Catherine’s relationship gay. “It’s not gay because neither of us are attracted to each other.”

“Well, you might be attracted to me,” he said. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when Catherine’s giving me a massage, gay wad.”

“That’s because I’m looking at Catherine, obviously!”

“Sure, man, whatever.” God, he knows just how to grind my gears.

He looked pensively, posing like the Thinker. “If only there was a way I could learn hands on without some dude in the shower with me… nah, nothing comes to mind.” he got out of his thinking pose and stared at me with that stupid smile and vapid eyes, “Guess you’ll just have to deal with the smell.” He punctuated the sentence with a fart.

Classy. God, did I have to do all the thinking around here, “Hey!” I said angrily, “here’s an idea, why don’t you just ask Catherine to shower with you.” Man, it’s like this guy has three brain cells.

“You don’t mind?”

“No, if you need help, she can help you.”

He stood up, leaving an indentation of his fat ass on the couch. “Well, I’ll go ahead to the shower and you can ask her to join me.”

“Fine.” I smiled, happy that I finally put him in his place.

Just then, the bathroom door creaked open, and Catherine stepped out into the hallway. She had a towel wrapped tightly around her waist, but as usual these days, her upper half was completely bare. Her large pale breasts bounced slightly with each step she took toward the living room.

“Hey guys, what’s going on out here?” she asked, her voice carrying that sweet, completely innocent tone. “I heard shouting. Is everything okay?”

Brady didn’t even hesitate. He took two steps forward, his massive, hairy frame completely towering over her as his pungent odor hit her full-face. He took two large handfuls of her breast, pinching her small nipples between his fingers. “Hey Cat. Michael and I were just talking about how I smell bad, and I told him I don’t really know how to use the shower knob or what parts I’m supposed to clean. It’s just too confusing.

So Michael suggested that you should get in there with me and teach me how to wash my body.”

Catherine blinked, her eyes darting between Brady’s broad, bare chest and me. “Oh! Well... I mean, I love to help out, but getting in the shower together? I don’t know, honey,” she said, looking over at me with a slight frown. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with that? I know how you can get about these things. You even acted weird when Brady’s friends would give me friendly pats on the butt.”

They certainly had gotten more comfortable since the first game. At first Catherine was still hesitant, but neither her nor his friends had any hesitations with her body being free use as she served us.

I stood up from my spot near the kitchen counter, taking a slow sip of my sparkling water. This was my moment to show them both how mature and accommodating I could be. “Catherine, of course I’m comfortable with it,” I said, putting on my best “go with the flow” smile. “Brady is our guest, and if it will stop the smell, it’s our responsibility as hosts to assist him.”

Catherine looked at me for a long moment, a slow smile spreading across her lips. “You’re working through your judgment issues in therapy, aren’t you?” She turned back to Brady, her posture relaxing. “Alright, Brady. If my husband says it’s okay, then I’d be absolutely honored to show you how to wash yourself. But on one condition.”

“What’s that?” Brady asked, his green eyes tracking her chest as she shifted her weight.

“Michael has to come into the bathroom and watch us,” she said firmly, crossing her arms underneath her breasts, which only served to push them up further. “That way, there’s total transparency. After all, some men would be intimidated by their wives showering with another man.”

“Whoa, hold on,” Brady said, immediately wrinkling his nose and looking at me with total disgust. “Having Mikey in there while I’m naked? That’s mad gay, Cat. I don’t want him checking out my cock again.”

“It’s not gay, Brady!” I turned my head to Catherine. Trying to maintain eye contact, though she made it very difficult. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Of course.” She walked over and put her arm on mine sweetly. I brought her close and kissed her forehead like I had done after our first dance.

Brady stared at me for a few seconds, letting out a loud, defeated sigh. “Fine, whatever. Just don’t look at it, gay wad. Let’s just get this over with.”

The three of us piled into our tiny, one-bathroom space. It was incredibly cramped. The air was already thick and humid from the lingering steam of Catherine’s earlier routine, and when you added Brady’s immense body odor into the small perimeter, it was almost suffocating. Catherine seemed to actually breathe it in. I immediately took my place on the closed lid of the toilet seat, tucking my legs in closely so I wouldn’t get in anyone’s way.

Brady stripped out of his boxers, letting them drop straight onto the floor right next to my feet. He didn’t even attempt to cover himself as he stepped into the fiberglass tub. His cock was as large and last time and just as hairy. I consciously kept my eyes fixed firmly on the shower curtain, determined not to give him the satisfaction of thinking I was looking even if my eyes did glance on occasion.

Catherine unknotted the towel around her waist, letting it drop to the floor. She stood there completely naked, her beautiful hourglass figure on full display as she stepped into the tub right behind him. “Need a little help?” Brady asked as he took two big handfuls of her large white ass, and lifted her into the shower effortlessly. She giggled. As he let her down, his dick rubbed up against her crotch, but she took a slow step away.

She reached past his broad shoulder and turned the single plumbing knob.

“Okay, Brady, look closely at my hand,” Catherine said, her voice echoing slightly against the tile. “To get the water warm, you turn it to the left. See? If you turn it too far, it gets hot. If you turn it right, it gets cold. Do you understand?”

“Whoa, wait, slow down,” Brady said, his voice dripping with an almost cartoonish level of confusion. He stood completely still under the rushing water, letting it stream down his face and his thick beard. “Left is warm? Man, that’s so backwards. How am I supposed to remember that?” As he spoke he was sure to grab her tits and shake them so that water would splash everywhere.

“It’s okay, big guy, we’ll take it slow,” Catherine reassured him sweetly. She grabbed the bar of soap from the dish and began rubbing it vigorously between her palms until a thick, white lather formed. “Now, to actually clean your body, you have to apply the soap directly to the skin. Like this.”

From my seat on the toilet, I watched the silhouette through the translucent shower curtain as Catherine stepped directly into Brady’s space. She placed both of her soapy hands flat against his massive chest, smooth sliding them down over his pectoral muscles and across his fat belly.

“Mmm, okay, yeah,” Brady muttered, closing his eyes as he leaned his back against the wet tile. “I think I get it. But what about the sides? I have a lot of surface area, Cat. It’s hard for a simple sandwich artist to reach everything.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Catherine cheered. She shifted her position, moving completely behind him. Because the tub was so narrow, her large breasts were pressed entirely flat against the hair of his upper back as she reached her arms around his torso to lather his sides. Her nipples were right against his shoulder blades, slick with soap and water. He turned and held her waist back so he could just stare at her for a second. “Can I try on you?”

I almost said something, but kept my cool. “Sure!” She said sweetly. He took his sweet time to lather up her melons so they were nice and soapy and wet, rubbing his hands over them about a dozen times, before putting the soap on her ass and thighs, and taking his time to move his hands to those areas too. Catherine let out a moan, but I didn’t want to blame her for her body’s natural reaction. “Hey Michael, you paying attention? Your wife is a literal saint. I’m learning so much right now.”

“I’m paying attention, Brady,” I said from the toilet seat, keeping my voice completely level and calm. I took another sip of my sparkling water. “Just make sure you’re retaining the information so we don’t have to repeat the lecture tomorrow.”

“I might need a daily lecture unless you want me stinking up the place.” He farted again. Catherine laughed which was unlike her.

“Did you just laugh, baby?”

“Yeah, at night Brady lets out some crazy ones, which I used to think were gross, but Brady explained to me how funny they are and since then I kinda look forward to them.” Catherine called out over the sound of the rushing water. She slid her hands down past his waist, lathering up his thick thighs. “See, Brady? You just have to make sure you get into all the creases where the sweat builds up. It’s very simple once you get the hang of it.”

“Yeah, but what about the back of my legs?” Brady complained, playing dumb with a totally straight face. “I can’t balance on one foot under the water, Cat. I’m too top-heavy. I might slip and break my neck.”

“Then just lean on me for support,” Catherine said readily.

Brady turned around to face her fully, his massive front completely crowding her against the opposite wall of the shower. He placed his heavy hands flat against the tile on either side of her head, trapping her beneath him. Catherine didn’t seem to mind at all; she just kept scrubbing his shoulders, her fingers digging into his muscles just like during the massages.

“Wow, Cat,” Brady murmured, his green eyes presumably locked onto hers as the water drenched them both. “I think the soap got on my cock. Can you help me rinse it off?”

“Of course, just stay right there” she whispered, her voice incredibly soft.

I sat there on the toilet seat, staring at the tile floor between my feet, counting to three in my head. One, two, three. My therapist said that clear communication and understanding boundaries was key, and right now, I was really happy she was just cleaning.

I couldn’t see exactly what was happening because his hairy ass was blocking my view, but I heard the sound of slapping flesh as her hand moved back and forth. I had my cock “cleaned” like this in the shower before so I know how good it felt for her soft hand to slide up and down my wet cock.

“Talk to me, baby,” he said.

“No! Micheal’s here.” She continued to pump him.

“He’ll understand.” He called over to me, “Right, Micheal, you don’t mind if Catherine does her job thoroughly.”

“No, of course not.”

“Okay then honey.” She started pumping faster as she spoke, “Come on, daddy. I want you to finish.”

“Oh yeah, Cat,” Brady groaned, his heavy hands gripping her shoulders now for balance as his upper body shifted with the momentum of her arm. “You’re doing an amazing job.”

“Good boy,” she crooned, her breathing getting just a little bit heavier as the sloshing sound of the soapy water intensified behind the curtain. “Just focus on the warmth of the water.”

I took another measured sip of my sparkling water. It was getting a little warm in my hand from the ambient humidity of the bathroom, but I kept my composure.

“Almost there, big guy,” Catherine whispered loudly over the roar of the showerhead. She kept the talk going, guiding him as her hand kept slapping back and her tits bounced up and down around his arm. “Just a few more rinses.”

With a sudden, deep grunt that rattled the fiberglass walls of the enclosure, Brady tensed up completely. I heard a frantic flurry of splashing, followed by a wet, heavy thud against the tile, and then the distinct sound of the shower handle being aggressively jerked to the right. The water sputtered and died, leaving only the sound of heavy breathing and the rhythmic drip, drip, drip of runoff hitting the drain.

“Wow,” Brady breathed, wiping his face with both hands as he stepped out of the tub, completely unbothered by his total nudity. “Class is dismissed, holy fuck.”

“You did so well!” Catherine beamed, stepping out right behind him. She grabbed her towel from the floor, completely unconcerned with the fact that she was dripping wet and bare from the waist up. She gave his broad, hairy shoulder a playful pat. “Look at you, all fresh and clean. Doesn’t he smell so much better, Michael?”

“Oh honey,” I said, “Looks like you have some extra shampoo on your hand?”

She look down at the thick white glop. “Oh!” She brought it up to her mouth and licked it up, making sure to not miss a single drop. “Thanks honey. I know it’s a bit odd, but this shampoo is tasty.”

I laughed. She could be so silly. I leaned forward and took a careful sniff of the air. The toxic cloud was entirely gone, replaced by a pristine, soapy aura. “Great work, my love.” I stood up from the toilet seat, finally able to stretch my legs. I felt a genuine wave of accomplishment.

The three of us walked out of the humid bathroom and back into the bedroom hallway. Brady didn’t even bother putting his boxers back on, simply walking down the hall toward the master bedroom with his damp skin glistening under the hallway lights and his dick hanging between his legs. Catherine followed closely behind him, carrying her discarded towel.

When she entered the master bedroom, she walked over to her side of the bed. I stood near the doorway for a brief second and noticed the stark contrast in the room’s current state. My side of the room or rather, the small dresser and corner where I kept my neatly folded work shirts and structured slacks was completely spotless, untouched and immaculate. Although my diploma and pictures of my family had been replaced with pictures of Micheal Jordan, Tom Brady, and Sydney Sweeney. Of course, the picture of her has her wearing almost nothing. The only thing of mine he kept was a picture of our vacation last year to the Carribean, but had folded the picture so only my mom was showing. She was pretty with very very large breast, so I didn’t have to take two guesses why. Oh well, he’s a guest.

Catherine’s side, however, was an absolute disaster. She casually threw her damp shorts and tossed them directly onto a growing, chaotic mountain of her own clothes that had completely taken over her nightstand and the floor beside the bed. There were inside-out tank tops, discarded bras, and piles of crumpled laundry spilling everywhere. Her side kept getting dirtier and dirtier by the day. She laid down, throwing the wet towel to the ground, and grabbed a beer from the side.

“Since when do you drink beer?” I asked.

“Brady recommended them to me. They’re actually pretty good!”

“Well, I’m going to hit the sack,” Brady said, throwing his heavy frame directly onto the center of the mattress and pulling the comforter up over his waist. “Thanks for the lesson, Cat. If they taught like that at school maybe I woul’ve been a fucking nerd like Micheal.”

“Anytime, Brady,” Catherine smiled, walking over to turn off the overhead light. She looked back at me in the doorway, her breasts casting long shadows in the dim light of the hall. “Goodnight, Michael. Enjoy the couch!”

“Goodnight, honey,” I said softly. It was only 8:30. I wondered what else they would do, and if my wife was going to put more clothes on.

Deep breath Micheal. You took a big step today. You won. He showered.

I walked back into the living room, completely content. The house was a mess, but as I settled into the perfect, broken-in groove of my couch cushions and pulled the blanket up to my chin, I realized something wonderful. Despite everything, we were still excellent hosts.

I’ll update you tomorrow, journal.

—Kindly, Michael