“Ohmygod I’m so sorry!” Tucker said, almost shouting, “I don’t know why…”
Bud cut him off: “Don’t be sorry. It was great.”
Tucker and Bud
[This story is fiction and includes depictions of unsafe sexual practices. Such practices would be reckless in real life, and the author cautions strongly against them.]
When Tucker floated up out of sleep, he found himself sitting upright with his head resting against a meaty shoulder. A supporting arm was around his back, and a blanket was wrapped around him.
He looked up and saw his friend Bud smiling down at him.
He was on Bud’s lap.
He had no idea why he was there, how he had gotten there, or even when he had fallen asleep.
Bud brushed a vagrant lock of hair from Tucker’s forehead and said softly: “Hey, Tucker. You gave me quite a scare. How are you feeling?”
Now that Tucker thought about it, he was feeling very cozy. However he said only: “Hi, Bud. Pretty sleepy.”
Tucker and Bud had been friends since high school. The friendship had mystified their classmates, because Tucker was a handsome jock and although Bud was equally good-looking and athletic, he was widely rumored to be gay. In that school, straight-gay friendship was an alien concept. In fact anyone who was even suspected of being gay did not have an easy time of it.
Except for Bud: Refusing to deny or confirm the rumors, he parried the occasional taunt with laughter and a stinging rejoinder, and he responded to inquiries by asking why his orientation was of such great interest to his would-be interrogator. His attitude frustrated and angered some of his classmates but no one dared attack him physically, because he was bigger and stronger than any of them and knew how to use his fists when it was required.
Bud had no known relationships other than his friendship with Tucker, so all the curiosity was left unsatisfied.
Tucker wasn’t put off by the rumors. On the contrary, he admired Bud: For one thing, Bud never took advantage of his size and strength to bully anyone. For another, his supreme self-confidence was never manifested as arrogance. And perhaps most important, when not forced into physical conflict he was a truly gentle person.
Following high school, Tucker and Bud had gone to the same college, where their friendship had grown closer. After obtaining their degrees, they pursued separate careers, which limited their contact during the week, but the friendship remained solid and they spent almost every Saturday together. The question of Bud’s orientation remained unresolved in Tucker’s mind, but that did not lessen the fondness he had developed for his friend. And now, drowsily looking up into Bud’s smiling face as Bud held him, Tucker was feeling not just fondness but affection.
Nonetheless, he was perplexed. “Uh … Bud? What am I doing here?”
“I’d say offhand” Bud replied, “that you’re just waking up.”
“No I mean … how did I get here?”
“Don’t you remember? I guess you’re still half asleep. Your car is in the shop so I drove you.”
“Yeah, I know all that. I mean … here.”
“Oh. On my lap.”
“I carried you from the guest room” Bud told him, and grinned as he added: “You know, you’re heavier than you look.”
“Carried me from the guest room? What happened? How did I get there? The last thing I remember is we were sitting and talking.”
“That’s right, we were, and you didn’t say anything about not feeling well but all at once you got a funny look on your face and you keeled over. I couldn’t rouse you; you were out cold. I panicked and called a friend who’s a physician. I told him you had passed out and were unresponsive. I asked if I should put you in the car and rush you to the emergency room or if it would be better to wait for an ambulance. He got me calmed down and told me how to check your vital signs. Based on those he said you weren’t in any immediate danger. Then he walked me through an examination so he could decide what should be done next.”
As Bud was talking, Tucker became aware that he could feel the fabric of the blanket on his skin. Everywhere on his skin. He was naked. “Who undressed me?” he asked. “The doctor?”
“No” Bud said. “The doctor wasn’t here. I told you, he guided me by phone. I undressed you to do the exam.”
Bud did not notice the emerging color on Tucker’s face as he continued: “He had me look you over for bug bites or anything else that might have injected a toxin and made you pass out. He was very thorough; he even told me to look between your toes. After that he had me take your temperature and listen to your heart and lungs.”
By now, Tucker’s face was quite pink.
Bud finally noticed. “Hey, no need to be embarrassed” he chided. “We both have the same equipment.”
That didn’t help. Tucker’s face became almost red, and suddenly Bud understood the fundamental cause of his unease: “Oh, the high school rumors. Are you afraid I might have done unspeakable things to you while you were unconscious?”
Tucker didn’t reply, but his silence gave the answer.
“Oh Tucker, I would have thought you knew me better than that. You’re the last person in the world that I would take advantage of, in that way or any way. My activities were confined strictly to collecting medical information. I gathered the data the doctor asked for, and that’s all.”
Tucker’s blush began to subside.
Bud went on: “When I told my friend I didn’t see any bites or scratches but you had a fever, he said you’ve got a virus that’s been going around. He told me that ordinarily his advice is just to let it run its course, but in view of the fact that it knocked you out it should be treated. He called my local pharmacy and they delivered some things I need to give you. He said you should be fine in about a week if you get enough rest.”
Tucker was baffled: “I’ve got a virus? I don’t feel sick.”
“You have a fever of almost a hundred and three, aren’t you hot?”
“Yeah, but I thought it was the blanket.”
Bud reached over to a small nearby table, picked up a mirror, and said: “Look at your eyes. See how glassy they are?” He put his hand on Tucker’s face. “Now feel your face and then feel mine.”
Tucker looked, and felt.
“See?” Bud asked.
“Oh. Yeah. Is the fever why my head feels … I don’t know … cloudy, and I’m groggy?”
“Your fever is the reason for the cloudiness, but you’re groggy because of the sedative I’ve been giving you. It’s one of the meds the doctor had them send.”
“You’ve been giving me a sedative when I was asleep already?”
“At first you were unconscious. It’s not the same thing. He said to wait until you showed signs of coming around and then begin the medication. When you began to move, I gave you the first dose of sedative. That put you to sleep. I also started you on an antiviral drug. You get them every four hours, day and night.”
“I don’t remember taking anything” Tucker said.
“I give you the medicine each time as you’re just starting to wake up” Bud told him. “You’re barely conscious. You wouldn’t remember.”
Tucker thought for a moment. “Bud?”
“Can I ask you something else?”
Tucker hesitated, and then said: “This is really nice, so please don’t think I’m complaining. I’m just curious: Why do you have me on your lap?”
“Originally, I put you to bed in the guest room” Bud told him, “and I planned to be there when you woke up so that when you opened your eyes the first thing you saw would be a friend. That way it wouldn’t be so scary waking up in a strange place and not knowing why. But then it occurred to me that if you turned in your sleep, the first thing you’d see would be the wall. So I decided this was a good way to make sure.”
“That was really thoughtful.”
“I wanted you to have as easy a time as possible.”
“Well I did. It was really good waking up this way.”
Bud took mental note of two things Tucker had said: That being held on Bud’s lap was “really nice,” and that it had been “really good” to wake up there.
Actually, the first word that had come to Tucker’s mind had not been merely ‘nice’ or ‘good’. Instead, the word he had been thinking was ‘wonderful’. He didn’t say it because he was afraid to admit having such strong feelings for Bud. In fact, he was disconcerted to realize that he had them.
Notwithstanding his concern, he would have been happy to stay where he was. He tried to think of additional questions so that Bud would continue to hold him. But as he was thinking, Bud consulted his watch and said: “Time to check you over.”
“Check me over?”
“Every four hours I have to examine you for a rash and take your temperature, before I give you your medication.”
Bud stood up, necessarily lifting Tucker off his lap. Then he laid him back down and made sure he was well covered. “I’ll be right back” he announced as he left the room.
Tucker was impressed by the ease with which his friend had lifted him. It showed that Bud had not let his muscles decline after graduating from college.
A few minutes later Bud returned, carrying two plastic prescription bottles and several other items, all of which he put on the table that held the mirror. “Do you need to use the bathroom?” he asked.
“Yeah” Tucker told him. “Now that you mention it, I have to pee.”
“All right. You know where it is. Keep the blanket with you so you don’t get chilled. And put those on” he added, pointing to a pair of slippers in front of the couch. “Be careful walking. I gave you a reduced dose of sedative this morning but you might still be a little bit wobbly.”
“Ok” Tucker replied as he rose from the couch and started toward the bathroom, holding the blanket against his front.
Bud watched in case Tucker were to need help, but his walk was steady and his balance stable. Bud could safely look away.
Bud did not look away. He had never seen Tucker naked until he undressed him, and even then he had not looked with an appraising eye because his concentration had been entirely on Tucker’s illness. Now, however, he took approving note of the smooth, muscular back, the slender hips, the shapely rear end, and the well-formed legs.
Although Bud would like to have continued savoring the view (yes, the high school rumors had been true), his top priority was Tucker’s recovery. As Tucker’s form retreated down the hall, Bud called: “Put the blanket all the way around you! Keep it there until you sit down. And see if you can have a bowel movement too.”
When Tucker returned, Bud asked if he had moved his bowels. He nodded bashfully.
Noting Tucker’s response, Bud said “I’m sorry, I need to know these things. But I forgot that you’re bashful. Will it be better if I say ‘took a dump’ next time?”
“Alright I will. Now lie down.”
Tucker lay down and started to cover himself, but Bud stopped him: “Don’t cover up yet. I told you, I have to check you for a rash.”
With a returning blush, Tucker pulled the cover aside.
Bud began examining the front of Tucker’s body, starting at his shoulders. As he worked, using both his eyes and his hands, he continued the appraisal he had begun earlier from the back, now noting the broad chest and slightly curving belly as his hands moved down over them.
When he began to move further down, he heard a sharp intake of breath. “Are you ticklish?” he asked.
Tucker said he was not.
Bud looked at Tucker’s face, noticed that he was blushing again, and understood that the blush was undoubtedly in anticipation of where Bud’s gaze, and his hands, would be going next.
After running his fingers slowly through Tucker’s bush, Bud lifted his penis, provoking a gasp. Holding the limp organ, he imagined taking that soft flesh with its light purple helmet into his mouth, feeling it stiffen and grow, caressing it with his tongue and running it in and out until the slit at the front flooded him with warm surges of Tucker’s semen.
Breaking free of the daydream, he proceeded to Tucker’s plump testicles. He looked at them admiringly for a moment, then lifted and held them cupped in his hand longer than was necessary to confirm that they did not hide a rash.
Eventually he continued to Tucker’s legs, and scrutinized the fronts before moving them apart to inspect Tucker’s inner thighs.
When he reached Tucker’s feet, the blush paled somewhat, but it intensified again a few minutes later when he finished examining the toes and said “Good. Now turn over.”
Shyly, Tucker obeyed.
Beginning once more at Tucker’s shoulders, Bud proceeded downward on his smooth back.
Reaching Tucker’s behind, he stopped momentarily. He wanted to knead and kiss those alluring cheeks, and when he spread them and saw the little pink pucker he was powerfully tempted to lick the rim and then push his tongue inside.
With difficulty, he successfully resisted the temptation and moved on to examine the backs of Tucker’s legs.
The embarrassment that Tucker had felt as Bud began his examination had since given way to other emotions: Bud’s gentle hands were doing disturbing things to him, exciting things. His penis was hard. He couldn’t understand why his body was reacting this way. He was confused and troubled.
Bud finished his examination and declared: “Both sides look good,” recognizing only afterward that the statement could be taken as a double entendre.
He covered Tucker, went to the table, picked up two items, and started back toward the couch.
Tucker had turned onto his back and was adjusting the blanket.
“Turn over again” Bud directed. In response to Tucker’s questioning look, he explained: “I need to take your temperature and give you your medication.”
“Why do I need to turn over?”
“Well for one thing, this is a rectal thermometer.”
“Don’t you have any another kind?” Tucker asked, his face returning to full pink.
“I do” Bud told him as he shook down the instrument, “but while you were asleep, this was the way I had to take your temperature and the doctor wants an accurate comparison with those readings, good to a tenth of a degree. The reference location has to be kept constant, and the initial readings were rectal so the required reference location is inside your tushy.”
With some reluctance, and a deepening blush, Tucker turned over, his discomposure increased by Bud’s use of the juvenile’s term ‘tushy’.
Bud lubricated the thermometer and went to the foot of the couch, where he folded the blanket up. Then Tucker felt Bud’s fingers spreading his buttocks and the glass thermometer sliding in. He tensed slightly as the bulb was forced through his sphincter muscle and entered his rectum.
“Ok” Bud said, keeping a hand on Tucker’s upturned behind, “Now we wait a few minutes.”
Tucker’s profound sense of indignity at having his temperature taken rectally was mixed with the troubling pleasure produced by the feel of Bud’s hand.
Bud began to engage Tucker in small talk. As they chatted, he absently fondled a pliant cheek, an indulgence he had allowed himself while Tucker was asleep. He would have been more discreet now, but he was preoccupied by worry over the fever, which had remained high throughout the night.
Tucker felt his penis hardening again.
After several minutes, Bud eased the thermometer out and covered him. “Your temperature is down slightly” he said as he made a note of the reading. “That’s a good sign.”
Tucker began to turn onto his back, but Bud placed an impeding hand on him: “Stay there. I have to give you the medicine.”
“Why do I have to … You mean that’s…?”
“The doctor had it sent in suppository form so I can administer it on schedule whether you’re awake or not.”
He went to the small table, and Tucker saw him pick up one of the two prescription bottles. Holding it up, Bud said: “Antiviral.” He poured out a suppository. Then he picked up the other bottle. “Sedative” he stated as he opened it. “The doctor wants you to get a lot of sleep.”
He slipped a latex sheath over a finger and applied lubricant. Then he came back to the couch with the two suppositories.
Tucker grunted as the first and then the second suppository was pushed into his rectum, and he grimaced when he felt Bud’s finger follow the second suppository all the way in.
Bud kept the finger in place, the rest of his hand nestled between the cheeks. He explained that he was preventing the suppositories from being expelled before they could melt and release their drugs. “But it won’t take long.”
The surprise intrusion of Bud’s finger had been very uncomfortable, but once Tucker had adjusted he found that he actually liked having Bud’s finger in the grip of his rectal sphincter.
As Bud was withdrawing the finger several minutes later, it pressed on something that produced an ecstatic shudder. Tucker huffed involuntarily.
“I’m sorry” Bud said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” But he knew it wasn’t pain Tucker had felt, because he had pressed that spot on purpose. He knew that he had caused not pain but an intense erotic thrill.
He removed the latex sheath and said “Alright, you can turn onto your back if you like.”
After Tucker had gotten comfortable, Bud sat down near the end of the couch. “You’ll sleep for a while now, but then I can drive you home. We’ll need to arrange for twenty-four-hour care so you get your medication on time, and they’ll have to prepare your meals since you won’t be in any condition to cook. If you’d rather, though, you’re welcome to stay here and I’ll take care of you.”
“That would be terrific!” Tucker blurted out, and was immediately abashed at the effusiveness of his acceptance. He had reacted so strongly because the unexpected prospect of being in Bud’s care was very appealing.
Then it occurred to him that the offer might have been made too hastily: “Hey, don’t you have to be at work the day after tomorrow?”
“The day after tomorrow? Oh, you think this is still Saturday. It’s Sunday morning.”
“Sunday? I’ve been passed out since yesterday?”
“If you mean unconscious, no, you weren’t passed out except at the beginning. You were unconscious for a little over an hour, then you started to come around and I began giving you the sedative per the doctor’s instructions. That put you to sleep, and you slept through the night. Anyway, to answer your question, I don’t have to be at work tomorrow. Or for the next few weeks: I’ve got lots of unused vacation time and no particular plans. I can’t think of any more worthwhile use for the time than nursing my best friend back to health.”
“That’s really generous.”
“Then you’ll stay?”
“Yeah, sure, thanks” Tucker answered, careful this time not to be so demonstrative.
A minute later, he asked: “Did you have me on your lap all night?”
Bud laughed. “No, that would have gotten very uncomfortable after a while. I didn’t bring you in here until I saw signs that you were about to wake up.”
As he spoke, he took a shirt from a nearby chair. He helped Tucker to sit up, and handed him the shirt. It was a pajama top.
Tucker put it on and waited for the pants, but none was forthcoming. “Aren’t you going to give me the bottom?” he asked.
“Nope” Bud replied. “I need easy access to your bottom so I can take your temperature and give you the medicine. You can keep the top on if you don’t button it when you’re lying down; then I can lift it to check you over. But keep it buttoned while you’re sitting up.”
“I could just take the pants down whenever you need me to” Tucker insisted.
“You’ll be asleep most of the time, so I would have to do it. In fact I would have to take the pants completely off you to examine for a rash. That much activity would wake you.”
The explanation did not fully satisfy Tucker, but by now the latest dose of sedative had made him too drowsy to argue as Bud wrapped the blanket securely around him.
Bud sat down on the couch and looked into Tucker’s eyes. “Good. The sedative is starting to work. Here, lean on me.”
Tucker moved over and leaned against Bud, wondering idly why he had not been put back to bed in the guest room or been told to stretch out at full length here on the couch. He was glad that Bud had decided instead to sit with him.
Two minutes later, Tucker’s eyes were closing and his head had sunk to rest on Bud’s shoulder. He felt Bud pull him closer. He snuggled up.
He was smiling happily as the new dose of sedative put him back to sleep.
Bud looked down at the man sleeping peacefully in his arms. He kissed Tucker on top of the head and said “Pleasant dreams, sweet friend.”
Tucker awoke to find himself in bed. He turned and saw Bud sitting in a chair, reading. “Hi” he called.
Bud looked up from his book. “Hi.”
“Where are we?” Tucker asked.
“This is the guest room” Bud told him. “I brought you in here after you fell asleep. By the way, I called your nextdoor neighbor and explained the situation. She’s going to collect your mail. Tomorrow I’ll call your boss and tell him you’ll probably be out sick all this week. If you need a doctor’s note for that long an absence, my friend can provide it.”
“Thank you. I hadn’t thought of those things.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, but I need to use the bathroom again.”
Bud rose from the chair and went over to the bed. “Ok. I’ll help you there and back and then I’ll make us brunch.”
“Brunch? What time is it?”
“It’s eleven thirty. You slept most of the morning. Here, let me help you up.”
“I’m ok” Tucker said, and got out of bed.
He staggered and nearly fell over.
Bud grabbed him and held him upright. “The doctor told me to lighten up on the sedative periodically so you can use the bathroom. I did that early this morning, but after you took a dump I put you back on the full dose because I didn’t think you’d need to get up again until this evening. That’s why you’re woozy.” He helped Tucker to regain his balance and steadied him as they walked down the hall.
After lifting the toilet seat cover and sitting Tucker down, Bud ordered: “When you’re finished, DO NOT try to walk back unassisted. Call me, ok?”
“Ok” Tucker replied.
When Tucker was through and had washed his hands, he went to the door. The moment he turned the knob, the door opened and Bud came in.
Tucker smirked. “You were waiting right outside. Didn’t you trust me to call you?”
Bud grinned. “As a former president once said: ‘Trust, but verify’. I wasn’t about to take any chances with you.”
“I always wondered what ‘trust but verify’ was supposed to mean” Tucker commented, “since those are contradictory instructions.”
Bud helped him back to bed and arranged the covers closely around him, saying “I’ll be a little while.”
He returned fifteen minutes later with a tray of food. Tucker’s eyes were closed. In a whisper, Bud asked “Are you awake?”
There was no response.
“He slowly lowered the tray onto a table, being careful not to make any noise. Then he sat down and resumed reading.
An hour later he heard Tucker move. He looked up from his book.
Tucker yawned and turned his head. Seeing Bud, he said “Hi. I guess I fell asleep again. Has it been long?”
“About an hour” Bud told him, rising from the chair.
“An hour?” Tucker exclaimed, sitting up. “Why didn’t you wake me? The food must be cold.”
“You’re fighting a virus. The more you sleep, the quicker you’ll recover.” Bud picked up the tray. “I’ll reheat the food, then we’ll have brunch.”
“We’ll have brunch? Didn’t you eat?”
“I thought we’d eat together.”
“Bud, you’re using vacation days to take care of me, and if you’re giving me medicine every four hours day and night it’s also interrupting your sleep. I feel bad about all the trouble I’m causing you; I’ll feel even worse if you go hungry and waste time sitting there waiting just because I’m asleep. Please, either wake me or do whatever you’d be doing if I wasn’t here.”
Bud sat down on the edge of the bed. Putting a hand spontaneously against Tucker’s forehead in a rough check on the fever, he said “I’d rather eat with you than eat alone. And if I give up some sleep during the night to medicate you, I make up for it by taking naps while you’re sleeping during the day. So you’re no trouble.”
“Sure” Tucker said in a sarcastic tone of voice. “I’ll bet that all the disruption and the extra work is …” he was about to say “a labor of love” but he reconsidered, thinking that it might result in a conversation he wouldn’t know how to handle. So after a moment’s pause, he concluded with “a lot of fun.”
Bud slowly shook his head. “I don’t know how to convince you that I’m doing exactly what I want to do.” He picked up the tray and carried it to the door, adding: “One more thing. I’m not wasting time when I sit here. I’ve been meaning to get to that book for months. So shut up and lie down. If you’re asleep when I get back, the food can be reheated again.”
But when he returned, Tucker was still awake and sitting up. Bud went over and closed the pajama top. “I told you this should be buttoned when you’re sitting up. You need to keep warm. And besides, you were supposed to be lying down.”
“Hey” Tucker protested as Bud pulled the blanket around him, “You’re treating me like a little kid.”
“Whatever it takes to get you well” Bud said as he unfolded a bed tray. “Any more complaints and I’ll make you drink from a sippy cup.”
Tucker looked at Bud’s serious expression. “You wouldn’t.”
“Don’t try me” Bud responded (but he was doing his best not to chuckle).
When they were finished eating, Bud said “Checkup time.” He directed Tucker to lie down on his back and open the pajama top.
As Bud began his examination, beginning this time at Tucker’s feet, Tucker asked: “Do you really have to go over me every time?” He was increasingly distressed by about how much he liked having Bud’s hands on him.
“Yup” Bud said, looking between Tucker’s toes. “I have to examine you before I take your temperature and give you the meds. My friend said that if I see a rash I need to let him know right away so he can switch you to a different antiviral.”
Tucker closed his eyes and concentrated on distracting thoughts as Bud’s hands slowly moved upward on his thighs.
He opened them again when he noticed that the hands had stopped moving. “Is something wrong?” he asked. “Do you see a rash?”
“No” Bud answered. “Everything looks fine so far.”
“Then why are you holding onto my balls so long?” Tucker asked, because feeling them cupped in Bud’s soft hand was very arousing. He was hard.
“Oh. Sorry. I was keeping them out of the way. I guess my mind wandered.”
But Bud did not let go; as the examination continued, he used only his free hand to move further up on Tucker’s body. What’s more, the thumb of the cupping hand began running lightly along Tucker’s rigid shaft.
After another minute, Tucker said breathlessly: “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna shoot my load.”
Bud looked down and suddenly realized what he had been doing. “Oh I’m sorry” he said. Then a roguish expression appeared on his face. “Do you want me to stop?”
As he waited for Tucker’s answer, he kept the hand still but did not take it away.
Tucker looked shocked. After an awkward pause, he said “Uh … yeah, I think you’d better let go.”
Bud took his hand away, but he had found the pause encouraging.
He finished his examination of the front, and had Tucker turn onto his stomach.
“No rash” he advised a few minutes later when he had completed his examination and was picking up the thermometer. “Don’t turn over yet.”
After sliding the thermometer in, he stood back and for a few minutes gazed rapturously at those gorgeous cheeks with the back of the thermometer sticking out between them. And when it was time to take the reading, he couldn’t resist: He pushed his face between those warm, round cheeks and, after inhaling the sweetish, musky scent he withdrew the thermometer with his teeth.
If Tucker was able to tell what it was he had just felt, he gave no indication. But his penis did: It twitched.
After reading the thermometer, Bud proclaimed: “Making progress. Your fever is definitely coming down.” Then he inserted the suppositories.
As they waited for the melting process to finish, Tucker remarked: “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had this much medication in my entire…”
Just then Bud withdrew his finger, again hitting that special spot and eliciting another gasp of pleasure from Tucker.
Bud smiled inwardly and pulled the covers up.
The sedative took effect rapidly. Soon Tucker was asleep.
When he awoke, Bud was not in the room. Still tired, he closed his eyes.
He thought he had remained awake, but when he opened his eyes again Bud was sitting in the chair.
“Hi” Tucker said. “What time is it?”
Bud came over and sat down on the side of the bed. “It’s 6 o’clock. How are you doing?”
“Ok. Wow, I slept the whole afternoon.”
“Yes, as you were supposed to. And all that sleep is having an effect: Your temperature has come down some more.”
“You took it again?”
“I told you, every four hours.”
“I didn’t even feel it.”
“That’s because you were sleeping soundly. Do you need to use the bathroom?”
“Then let’s have supper.”
After the meal, a checkup, and a new dose of sedative, Tucker quickly drifted off.
It was light outside when Tucker awoke. He lay there snoozing on and off until Bud came in.
“Hello” Bud said. “Been awake long?”
“A little while. I guess I slept through the night again.”
“Yes, and you’ll be happy to know that when I checked you earlier this morning you had no rash, The doctor said that if it were going to develop, it would show up within the first thirty-six hours, so I don’t have to check you for that anymore.”
Tucker wasn’t sure whether he was glad or disappointed. Then he thought of something: “Can I wear the pajama pants now?”
“No, I still have to take your temperature every four hours and give you the medication. How’s your appetite, are you in the mood for a big breakfast?”
As they ate, Bud told him “I called your boss. He sent get-well wishes and said not to rush back before you’re feeling completely well. I got the impression that he really cares.”
“Yeah, he does, he’s a good guy. I’ll have to thank him when I get back.”
After breakfast, the morning temperature check and Tucker’s medication, he and Bud chatted until he was too sleepy to keep up his end of the conversation.
Tucker awoke to something wet and warm moving over his face. By the time he managed to get his eyes open, his face had been dried and the wet warmth had moved down past his chest. It was now on his belly.
It felt good.
He looked down just as the sensation disappeared and gave way briefly to the chill of room air on his wet skin before Bud dried the area and turned toward a bowl on the nearby table. There, he laid down the towel he had just used, and put his hand into the bowl.
“What?” was all Tucker had the energy to say.
Bud turned toward him. “Hi. I’m giving you a bed bath.” He took a dripping washrag out of the bowl and wrung it out. Then he brought it over and continued washing Tucker.
Even though Bud had been handling Tucker’s naked body for the past two days, Tucker was deeply embarrassed. Worse than that, he was finding the experience much too enjoyable. “What … about … a shower?” he murmured fuzzily.
“Not advisable” Bud said, having skipped Tucker’s middle and begun work on the insides of his thighs. “As long as you’re getting the sedative, you’ll be half asleep. It wouldn’t do to fall and slam your head against the wall. Your blood would clash with my color scheme.”
Tucker’s drowsy laugh was brief because Bud, having finished Tucker’s legs, was washing his groin. At the moment, the washrag was moving into the valley on the right side, and Tucker was significantly aroused. His penis, already stimulated by the washing of his inner thighs, was responding more and more strongly with each pass of the rag. Tucker was positive that Bud was not stimulating him on purpose, but by the time Bud started to gently wash his penis he was very hard.
Bud washed the erect penis without comment. Then he finished the front of Tucker’s body and helped his languid friend to turn over.
He washed Tucker’s back, followed by those cheeks he so desired to kiss and fondle. Then he moved the washrag into the cleft, where he worked slowly and thoroughly, even running a soapy finger around the rim of the enticing pucker. Tucker was extremely disquieted by how erotic that was. To his dismay, he felt his penis beginning to leak.
When Bud had washed the backs of Tucker’s thighs and legs, he dried them and got him into a fresh pajama top, making no comment about the tenacious erection or the strand of clear fluid that was slowly descending from its crown.
Once the pajama top concealed Tucker’s erection from view, it subsided.
“I need to pee” Tucker told Bud sleepily.
Bud helped him walk to the bathroom and supported him as he released his stream. He was still sluggish from the sedative, and his aim was erratic. The stream began missing the bowl. Bud reached down, took hold of Tucker’s penis, and aimed it for him.
The touch of Bud’s fingers evoked a shocked, if weak, gulp and almost stopped the stream.
When Tucker had finished, Bud gave the penis a few quick shakes, calling forth another gulp.
After getting Tucker back to bed and covering him, Bud noticed something on Tucker’s forehead. Worried that it might be the beginning of a belated rash, he leaned in close.
Tucker gazed languorously at the handsome face hovering above him so near that he could see his reflection in Bud’s stunning green eyes. Before he could reconsider, he grabbed the back of Bud’s head and drew Bud to him.
It took Bud by surprise and he resisted momentarily, but then he yielded.
Tucker’s kiss was brief, and afterward he looked horrified. “Omygod! I’m so sorry!” he exclaimed as loudly as he could muster in his lethargic condition. “I don’t know why I did that. The medicine must have…”
Bud cut off his attempt at an explanation: “Don’t be sorry. It was great.” Then he straightened up, smoothed the blanket, and made sure that it was folded in close around Tucker.
“But…” Tucker began.
“But nothing. I was hoping that eventually you’d get around to it.”
Tucker again started to say something, but Bud cut him off once more. “I told you, it was great. I loved it. Go to sleep.”
With some misgivings, Tucker closed his eyes.
He expected that he was too upset to sleep, but when he opened his eyes again Bud was back in the chair, reading.
Bud heard Tucker move. He looked up. “Feeling better?” he asked, and walked over to the bed.
“I’m ok” Tucker replied, not certain whether Bud was asking about the illness or about Tucker’s horror at having kissed him. “Did I sleep long?”
“About an hour” Bud told him. “It’s lunch time.” He walked toward the door, saying “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Tucker was alarmed by Bud’s seemingly brusque manner. “Are you mad at me?”
Bud stopped and turned around. “Why would I be mad at you?”
“Before, ….” A long pause. “Did you think I was being a tease?”
“Oh no, I’m sure the kiss was genuine. I’m not mad at you. Just the opposite.”
“Then you really…”
He stopped speaking as he saw Bud coming back.
Bud leaned down.
Tucker knew what was coming.
He surrendered to a long, ardent kiss.
“Convinced now?” Bud asked with a smile.
Tucker’s mind reeled. Earlier, he had been able to tell himself that his responses to Bud’s touch were purely physiological, but this kiss had electrified him.
Bud looked at his watch and said: “Lunch will have to be quick. I just noticed that you’re overdue for your meds.”
When Bud brought the food, they ate in silence. Bud didn’t speak because he didn’t want the conversation to slow their meal, and Tucker said nothing because he was in turmoil about what the kiss had done to him, and about how he had been reacting to Bud’s touch.
After clearing the things away, Bud took Tucker’s temperature and administered the medication.
When Tucker next awoke, Bud was in the chair but the book was in his lap. “Hi” Tucker said. “You’re not reading. Did you get bored with your book?”
“No” Bud answered. “I was watching you.”
“Why, was something wrong?”
Bud smiled. “Everything was fine. You were sleeping like a baby. You looked adorable.”
Bud was pleased to see only a mild blush at his remark. He got up from the chair and announced: “It’s almost suppertime. I need to start cooking.”
Following supper, Tucker said that he had to use the bathroom. He was reasonably alert, and declined Bud’s offer of help, but when he was finished he again found Bud waiting just outside the bathroom door. Laughingly, he complained “You still don’t trust me to take a dump on my own.”
“I just wanted to be close by in case you weren’t as wide awake as you thought” Bud explained.
Once Tucker was back in bed, Bud took his temperature and told him “You’re coming along nicely. Temperature’s down some more.” Then he administered the medicines, looked at his watch, and said “See you in the morning.”
He turned to leave, but then he came back to the bed. “On second thought …”
He slid a hand under the blanket and directed: “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
The hand began moving downward. Tucker started to ask “What are you…” but then the hand came to rest on his penis, and when he felt it wrap around and begin caressing, he sighed with pleasure and rapidly stiffened.
It was not long before Tucker warned: “Bud, I’m gonna shoot.”
“Oh” Bud said. He quickly took his hand away and folded the blanket down. “I wouldn’t want to get cum all over my nice blanket.” He leaned down, put his lips over the crown of the rigid penis, kissed it, and then slid the shaft into his mouth.
He began to slide Tucker’s penis in and out, starting slowly but then with increasing rapidity. Tucker’s breathing accelerated in time with what Bud was doing, and soon he shouted “HERE IT” but before he could finish his warning, jets of thick, warm semen began shooting to the back of Bud’s throat.
Bud swallowed as fast as he could and then began sucking, anxious to get every last drop.
It seemed to Tucker that the ejaculation would never stop, but eventually it was all over. He took a deep breath and proclaimed “My god, that was fantastic!”
Bud smiled and used the back of his hand to brush away a remnant that was dribbling down his chin. He covered Tucker again, kissed him, and repeated “See you in the morning.”
Drained, and rapidly succumbing to the latest dose of sedative, Tucker quickly fell asleep.
He awoke to see sunlight streaming into the room. It was Tuesday.
Bud was standing next to the bed, his face illuminated by the sunlight. “Good morning” he said. “Checkup time.”
Anticipating the pleasure he had come to accept and desire, Tucker turned over without a word.
After Bud had inserted the thermometer and was sitting on the bed with his hand on a cheek, Tucker asked a question: “What you did last night. It was … awesome. Does it have a name?”
“You don’t know? The formal term is ‘fellatio’ but the common name is a blow job.”
“You really didn’t know that?”
Tucker shook his head. “I’ve heard the expression, but I never knew what it meant. I always wondered why anybody would want someone to blow on him.”
Bud chuckled. “Tucker, you have led a remarkably sheltered life.”
“Could I try it?” Tucker asked.
“No” Bud answered as he withdrew the thermometer, “At least not yet. Before you decide on something like that, wait until you’re well and not under the influence of any drugs. It’s an important decision; you need to know you’re fully in charge of your faculties.”
He read the instrument and then inserted the suppositories, hitting Tucker’s sweet spot on the way out as always.
“Ok” he said, “You can turn over.”
Tucker turned over and asked: “What’s that thing you do with your finger each time you pull it out? It sends me practically into orbit.”
Bud smiled and pulled the covers up. “That’s the idea. I press on a spot just over your prostate gland. You can think of it as your pleasure spot. Pressing on it acts as a kind of internal aphrodisiac. You do know what an aphrodisiac is?”
“Yeah, I do know that” Tucker replied, then looked up lovingly at Bud and told him: “I’m glad I got sick.”
“You are? Why?”
“If I hadn’t been stoned on that sedative I wouldn’t have had the courage to kiss you, and if I hadn’t gotten sick you wouldn’t be giving me the sedative. Hey, I hope you don’t end up catching the virus from me!”
“Not likely, since I’ve already had it” Bud told him. “And anyway I’ll take my chances. You’re worth it” he added, punctuating his declaration with a kiss.
Tucker beamed at the compliment. “Well if you do get sick, I’ll nurse you back to health.”
“It’s a deal. Now get some sleep.”
Bud turned to leave, but Tucker stopped him. “Hey Bud, what are the chances of waking up in your arms again?”
Bud turned around and said with a grin: “I was hoping you would want to.”
“Want to? I’ve been longing for that the whole time I’ve been here. But until you kissed me, I was afraid to ask.”
“Well now that you have asked, I’d say the chances are pretty good. But it won’t be right away, and I won’t tell you in advance. I want it to be a surprise.”
During the next few days, Bud continued to give Tucker his meals, administer his medication, make sure he was kept warm, and keep track of the fever. He also gave Tucker a bed bath every other day, and Tucker’s murmurs of delight, which he did not attempt to conceal, left no doubt about how much he enjoyed it.
The treatment schedule became a smooth-running routine. Smooth-running, that is, except for the time a medicine took effect more quickly than they would have wanted: One evening as Bud was about to tuck him in, Tucker said “I need to take a dump.” Ordinarily he would have done that before being medicated, but the urge had just now manifested itself.
The sedative was already making him drowsy, so Bud helped him to the bathroom.
The next thing Tucker knew, he was waking up to the sight of things going by upside down. He was draped over Bud’s shoulder and Bud was carrying him along the hall.
“Wha … hap’n’d?” Tucker asked hazily.
“You fell asleep on the toilet after you took a dump. I put you over my shoulder to wipe you, and now I’m taking you back to bed.”
“Mm” was the most response that Tucker could manage. He was too drowsy even to feel mortified at having had to be wiped as if he were a toddler.
He was already asleep again two minutes later when Bud laid him down and secured the covers around him.
During those succeeding days, Tucker was always disappointed to wake up in bed rather than in Bud’s arms.
Until early Friday morning: He was roused by a kiss and even before he opened his eyes he knew exactly where he was, because he was sitting naked under a warm blanket, a strong arm was around his back, and his head was resting against a meaty shoulder. All was as it had been when he awakened on that first day, except that this time in addition to the arm around his back, he felt Bud’s hand under his bare behind. Bud was cradling him as one cradles a baby.
He looked up as Bud softly said “Surprise” and kissed him again.
Tucker nestled close and nuzzled Bud’s neck, sleepily murmuring “Mmm. Bes s’prise I could have.” Then he went blissfully back to sleep.
When he awoke about fifteen minutes later, he was still in Bud’s arms. He looked at Bud’s smiling face and said what he had wanted to say the first time he had found himself here: “This is wonderful.”
Bud ran his fingers through Tucker’s hair. “For me too. I love having you in my arms. I wish I could sit here like this with you forever.
Saturday morning, after taking Tucker’s temperature Bud told him: “You’ve had normal readings for the past twenty-four hours. You’re all better.”
“Thanks to you” Tucker replied. He was happy to be over the virus.
But he was not eager to leave. Still, he didn’t think it would be right to ask whether he could stay any longer, so when he had gotten dressed he said somewhat wistfully: “I guess I should be going home.”
“Ok” Bud answered. “I can drive you after we’ve had breakfast. The last dose of sedative should have worn off completely by then.” But he had heard Tucker’s melancholy tone, so he asked: “Would you like to come back and stay here tonight?”
Tucker’s face brightened. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
“And would you consider not sleeping in the guest room?”
“Would you rather I sleep on the couch?”
“No. I’d rather that you sleep in my bed.”
“Then where will you sleep?”
“In my bed.”
Tucker’s smile lit up the room.
That night as they lay in each other’s arms, Tucker started to ask: “When you said you had been waiting for me to kiss you …”
“What I said” Bud corrected, “was that I was hoping you would kiss me. It was a question of whether you could get past your formidable inhibitions. You see, I knew how you felt about me. In fact I was pretty sure while we were still in high school.”
“You knew in high school? I didn’t know back then. How did you know?”
“For one thing, wherever I went I always knew it wouldn’t be long before you showed up.”
“Yeah” Tucker acknowledged, “I always did like being near you.”
“And then there was the way you looked at me. It was unmistakable.”
Tucker frowned. “Wow. I didn’t know, but you did.” He played contemplatively with the sprinkling of hair on Bud’s otherwise smooth chest as he continued: “Oh I knew I liked you a lot, but I didn’t grasp its full meaning. Even when I woke up in your arms last Sunday and realized that I would rather be there than anywhere else in the world, even then I didn’t really understand.”
He was silent for a few minutes. Then he said: “I guess I was a real pest, hanging around you all the time.”
“Oh no! If the boy I loved always wanted to be nearby, it was fine with me.”
“The boy you loved? You were in love with me?”
“Head over heels” Bud said, lightly running the back of his hand over Tucker’s face. “Still am.”
“I never even suspected that!”
“Yeah, you are kind of dense about some things” Bud said, before planting a tender kiss on Tucker’s lips. Then, looking deep into Tucker’s eyes, he went on: “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. Seeing you only once a week just wasn’t enough, even though being near you was frustrating. So when you said you would stay and let me take care of you, I was in heaven.”
There was another period of quiet as they lay together in the semi-darkness of the bedroom.
Tucker was the next one to speak. “Bud?”
“The other day.”
“Did you talk to me as I was falling asleep? I thought I heard you say ‘sweet friend’, but I was too far gone to be sure.
It was Bud’s turn to be surprised. “You heard that? I wasn’t even aware I had said it out loud. Besides, I thought you were already sleeping. I would never have imagined you could hear me, much less remember when you woke up. Yes, you heard right. I was wishing you pleasant dreams.”
“So you did say ‘sweet friend’! The memory of that was what prompted me to kiss you.”
Bud breathed a wondering sigh. “It’s remarkable how we have an effect on someone when we least expect it.”
Again, neither of them said anything for a while. Then Tucker asked: “Hey, if it was fine that I wanted to be near you, why was it frustrating?”
“Because I was desperate to make a move on you but I was afraid of scaring you away. I just kept hoping that when you were ready, you would make the move. And the other day, you did.”
“Yeah” Tucker said, “My feelings finally came out … and I guess I did too.”
When they had both stopped laughing, Bud spoke once more: “You know, when I said last Sunday that I took you on my lap to spare you a traumatic experience, I was telling the truth. But it wasn’t the whole truth: For years, I daydreamed about having you naked on my lap; it was my favorite fantasy. I thought it would always be just a fantasy – until last Sunday, when not only did I have the chance to make the fantasy come true, it was going to be for an unselfish purpose. That was the happiest day of my life – until the day you kissed me; now that ranks as my happiest.”
“Today has been my happiest day” Tucker told him, “because today I found out that you love me too.”
Bud started to say something, but Tucker wasn’t finished: “Hey, since you’re in a confessing mood, …”
He paused. Bud waited.
“The rectal thermometer, the suppositories – was all that really necessary, or was it just an excuse to run rampant on my rear?”
Bud grinned. “Alliteration. I like that.”
“Well?” Tucker persisted.”
“Yes, those really were the doctor’s orders” Bud answered. “Of course I was overjoyed at the opportunity to run my hands all over your body and to fondle your captivating behind. But as much as I loved doing those examinations, I stopped when there was no longer a legitimate need. As I’ve told you, I would never take advantage of you.” He smirked and added: “I want you to know that stopping those exams was a great sacrifice.”
They lay quietly for a while, just basking in the contact of each other’s body.
Suddenly Tucker asked: “Do you want to make love to me?”
Bud sat up and looked searchingly at him. “Is that what you want, or would it be just to make me happy?”
Tucker gazed up at him adoringly. “I think it’s what I’ve wanted since high school.”
So that night they made love for the first time.
Because Tucker was a virgin, Bud decided to be the bottom.
Tucker refused, saying “I want to feel you inside me.” He turned onto his stomach, spread his legs, and looked back resolutely at Bud. Reluctantly, Bud finally he agreed.
He spread Tucker’s cheeks and applied a generous amount of lubricant. Then he said: “Turn over. Making love to you will be even better if I can look at your beautiful face. And that way I’ll also be able to tell if I’m hurting you.”
Tucker turned over, and immediately pulled his knees up to his chest, exposing his puckered entrance. The sight took Bud to the brink of orgasm. Indeed, as soon as the head of his penis touched Tucker’s rosebud he had a mini climax, shuddering as he sent a single slippery jet against Tucker’s little hole.
His disappointment at the partial premature ejaculation was tempered by the knowledge that his semen would greatly enhance the lubrication, making things easier for Tucker.
He entered, and advanced very slowly, pausing every fraction of an inch to wait until he was certain that Tucker had adjusted. He was determined to cause as little pain, and give as much pleasure, as possible.
When he had pushed through Tucker’s tight sphincter and was pausing again, Tucker said: “It’s ok, you can keep going.”
Bud resumed his advance, purring with delight at the feel of his rigid penis moving through Tucker’s smooth, snug passage. He still went slowly, but he no longer paused. Soon he said: “I’m all the way in. Are you still ok?”
Tucker flashed him a big smile. “Yeah! It feels incredible!” He was amazed at how much he enjoyed the sensation of fullness. He was sure it was because he knew it was Bud’s penis that was filling him.
Bud began a series of long, luxuriously slow strokes as Tucker smiled up at him. Then he bent over and put his tongue on Tucker’s fully-erect penis and licked up and down the shaft a few times before putting his lips over the crown. He kissed it once, then took in the entire stiff member and used his mouth to add another source of pleasure for Tucker.
When he sensed that he was approaching climax, he changed from leisurely strokes to powerful thrusts, and with Tucker’s penis still in his mouth he began to move his head in rhythm to his hips, using his tongue to enhance the effect as he pumped away inside Tucker.
Tucker was emitting loud, joyous cries, and when the crown of Bud’s penis brushed his ‘pleasure spot’ for the fourth time he came like a canon, sending one powerful gush after another straight down Bud’s throat.
That sent Bud over the edge; he ejaculated copiously, deep in Tucker’s rectum.
In the afterglow, as they lay side by side, Tucker said “Now I know what people mean when they say they felt the Earth move.”
They fell asleep for a while, but later that night they made love a second time and the Earth moved again for Tucker as he shot another volley into Bud’s welcoming mouth.