Private Duty

Tyronne was an athletically built young black man, about 22 years old. He was a university student who also worked as a tree trimmer. That's how we met. No, not in a tree but in a hospital.

It seems Tyronne fell out of a tree head first and managed to land on his arms. Now he was stuck in bed with both arms strung-up in casts from his shoulders to his fingers. I was called in to do private duty since he was pretty much helpless.

Actually, it turned out to be a fairly cushy insurance job. Although Tyronne needed total care with eating, bathing and toileting, he could move his body easily, so there wasn't a lot of lifting and turning to do. I arrived at supper time and got right to work setting up the tray and feeding him. He appreciated that we didn't have to rush through the meal like the hospital aides did. No sooner had he finished eating than he had to have a bowel movement. He said he hadn't gone in three days, it was so humiliating using a bedpan and having someone else in his shit and wiping his ass.

He lifted his hips and I slid the bedpan under him, noticing a musty, sour-sweet crotch odor wafting up on the warm air from under the covers. I then placed his penis in the urinal and balanced it with a folded towel. He told me it was less embarrassing having me hold his penis than the female nurses. I put the call button by his head and left the room.

When the light came on, I went back in the room and knew immediately that he was much relieved. I put on gloves, got paper and wet wipes, and had him roll to the side. As I started wiping he said "this is so degrading." I told him, "look, we all shit, and it stinks the same, so don't think about it." He laughed at that and seemed more at ease. Actually, compared to the saggy wrinkled butts I've had to clean, it was a relative pleasure to wipe between his firm round ass. Nice tight sphincters, and a smooth natal cleft made cleaning complete with one pass of paper and one wet wipe.

I asked if he'd had a bed bath since being there. He said one of the women had quickly wiped down his face, feet, and between his legs once. He said she seemed as embarrassed as him. I got a bath blanket and some towels, set up the basin with warm water, pulled the curtain around the bed and began cleaning his face and neck.

I pulled the top of the blanket down, exposing his smooth hairless chest, and began rubbing it with the soapy cloth. There was a pronounced underarm odor emanating from the dark curly bush of hair that went almost to the edge of the cast. It was a warm constricted area that took several rinse wipes to get all the odor and soap out.

I washed his rippled abdomen down to the pubic hair, a tight curly bush that also took several rinse wipes to get all the lather out. I had him roll to his side so I could get to his back. By now I could tell that he was really enjoying this warm wet rubdown as I washed and dried each section of his body. After a thorough soapy cleaning and rinse between his buttocks, I changed water and rags and started on his legs and feet.

Since I have more time than the hospital aides, my bed baths tend to be more thorough and relaxed, almost an effleurage massage. I rubbed and squeezed his foot through the soapy rag and ran fingers between toes. After washing and drying his legs all the way to his crotch, I had him lift up so I could put towels under his butt.

I took a warm soapy rag and slid it between his legs along the sides of his scrotum, then over the scrotum itself, gently working the wrinkled skin surface between my fingers and thumb. The sour-sweet, yeasty smell of his scrotum blended with that of the soap in this first real cleaning he'd had in a week. I moved the soapy washcloth to the shaft of his penis.

He was uncircumcised, so after I washed the outside of his shaft, I got a clean rag and started sliding his foreskin back. As soon as the head of his penis started being exposed I could smell it. By the time I slid the skin completely back to where the cheesy white ring of smegma was visible, the smell had permeated the whole cubicle. Obviously, the squeamish woman who bathed him last did not clean under here.

"Smells pretty funky," Tyronne said, trying to break the embarrassment of having his personal body odor penetrating the entire room. "I really appreciate what you're doing for me man."

I assured him it was no problem, that I was used to these bodily odors that accumulate when people can't bathe regularly.

As I wiped away the oily smegma, I felt his shaft expanding in my hand. Tyronne was looking at the ceiling, probably trying to will it down, but young men don't always have that control. It continued expanding until it was a solid seven inch boner. I know he must have been blushing.

"It happens," I said, trying to acknowledge the obvious without causing any more embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I haven't gotten off in 5 days."

"Don't apologize," I said, as I applied the warm rinse rag to this straining hard black rod. "Would you like me to help you relax." He nodded his head, "yes."

I slid the loose foreskin forward over the head, my fingers feeling the contour of his glans underneath. His hips gave a little involuntary jerk backward as I slid the skin back down. I continued a slow rhythmic motion, up and down, until I noticed his hips undulating steadily. I paced my hand to move with his hip thrusts. He had his eyes closed, and an intense expression on his face. Was he in some fantasy, or trying to reconcile the fact that this familiar, pleasurable stimulation was by another man's hand?

He let out ever so slight a moan, and arched his back, thrusting his crotch forward as a small burst of semen squirted out, followed by a second more voluminous and forceful squirt that cleared the end of the bed. The rhythmic convulsions and squirts subsided and he relaxed the tension in his body, letting out a breathy, exhausted sigh.

His eyes were still closed as I gently wiped him off with a wash cloth and cleaned up the slippery bed rail and floor. I pulled the covers over him and was about to quietly exit, when he opened his eyes and said, "Thanks. You don't know how much that helped."

Actually, I did know. My own hard dick had been straining at my briefs the whole time, leaking viscous fluid all over them. I let Tyronne lay there and relax as I went to the john to relieve myself.