His Woods (MxM)

31 Tyson Gets a Helping Hand

"What's up?" Ray asks pleasantly, popping back into the bathroom.

I inform him that the nurse double-knotted the drawstring on my pants and I can't get it undone one-handed. He pulls at the knot with his big paws and quickly has it undone as if he used some magic.

"Well, I'm an idiot," I scoff.

"No you're not. You are just...helpless," he says.

We both laugh.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I am not sure how you are going to get washed up with one hand," he informs me.

"Ah shit," I let out when I realize he is right.

Awkwardness takes over. I do not want to have to ask him for his help with such a weird request, but I am not sure how I am going to clean myself either. One-handed hair shampooing and body scrubbing sound like a challenge that I am not interested in figuring out at this moment.

Almost as if he reads my mind, he sighs and shakes his head.

"Alright," he says, taking the waist of my pants and underwear and pulling them to the floor. "Step."

My sudden nakedness catches me by surprise, but Ray acts as though this is just another part of his day job.

I use his shoulder for support as I leave my clothes behind and carefully straddle the side of the tub. I hastily plop down into the tub, being careful to keep my cast dry and try to relax, kicking my feet up on the faucet. While Ray retrieves a washcloth from the linen closet, the water quickly wins me over and I almost forget about the weirdness of the situation.

When he returns, Ray squats beside my right side and drives the small towel into the warm water just as I bring my free arm up from the tub to rest it along the ridge. The combination of activities sends a small tsunami over the side of the tub, soaking Ray's shirt.

"Really, Ty?" he asks, pretending to be annoyed.

I snort an apology, as he heaves the wet tank off over his head. Unable to look away from his well-built chest, I stare at his wet fur and delectable nipples.

"Okay, dunk," he tells me, breaking my gaze.

When I return topside, I try to clean my shoulders and chest. It must be going poorly because Ray takes the rag from me with a snicker.

"Just chill, bub. I got you," I hear my gentle giant say, taking a spot behind me.

Ray's hands carefully land on my head; his fingers rake themselves through my hair. Almost instantly, I forget about everything else. As he suds and massages my head, I feel all of my stress fade away.

I barely notice when his oversized mitts travel down the side of my neck and start lathering my right shoulder. He scrubs my bicep down to my wrist and then directs my arm into the tub to rinse. Carefully, he washes my left shoulder, being careful not to get my cast wet.

"Dunk," he tells me again.

I do as I am told and take an extra few moments under the warm water. There is something about being surrounded by water that gives me comfort. I always feel it at the pool, the ocean, the lake, and in this tub.

When I emerge, Ray reaches down the front of me to clean my torso. This makes my head lightly press into his hairy belly. When my eyes flutter open, I get an up-close view of his strong, furry bust. In switching the towel from one hand to the other, Ray spends time getting a soapy froth on my right pec before his bare hand splashed the body wash away and squeegees itself down over the ridge.

He repeats the same action for my left chest mound. First the sudsy rag, then his cupped hand for rinsing. But it is when Ray loses the cleaning cloth and takes both of my man humps into his paws and kneads my muscles with deep, deliberate motions that I let out a moan of delight.