Part 2.
Dean stepped into the shower and felt his muscles relax under the warm water. The water glided across his muscles, reaching in the dips and creases of his skin. For a crappy motel, the shower wasn't half bad. Dean took out the shampoo he had set on the tub's corner, squirted some into his hand, and lathered it slowly into his scalp. His finger tips massaged his skull, and Dean instantly felt the head ache from earlier ebb away. The last time his head felt so relaxed was when Sam and he had stopped off at a diner a couple states back and the pretty lithe waitress wrapped her fingers in his short hair and massaged it while he ate her out in a bathroom stall. Dean felt his blood flow southward, and groaned as his dick fattened up in lieu of the memory. He washed the shampoo out of his hair and grabbed Sam's conditioner. He, for once, inwardly thanked his younger brother for owning so many hair products. The conditioner was far smoother in his hand than the motel's complimentary shampoo had been.
The hunter, once again, squirted the bottle into his palm. Dean brought his hand to his dick and slowly encircled his fist around the head of his cock, squeezing it lightly. 'God, it's been too long.' He laid his head back against the shower's old wall tiles and rocked his hips into his fist. Dean groaned and touched the vein under the head of his penis, worrying the vein that presented itself on his erection. "F-Fuck!" He moaned and pistoned his hips faster into his hand, slipping a finger over the head of his penis and touching the slit that was now slick with pre-come. Dean swiped some of the pre-come off his cock with one long finger and pressed it near his opening. Dean was by no means a stranger to sexual kinks, and had found that the sweet spot, a girl had once found within him, was way too good to pass up. He slowly pushed his finger inside, past the pink rim. Having no patience, he started to fuck himself on his finger while still ministrating his dick with the other hand. He started losing the fluidity in the movement of his hips, as he pumped erratically and felt the long overdue climax approach him. "Holy Shit! Fuck Fuck Fuck." And a litany of cuss words fell from Dean's lips while strings of hot white hit the tile below him and washed down the drain.
When he finally left the shower and got dressed, Dean felt better than he had in several days. 'Time to call the son of a bitch.' He thought.