Caring for the Colonel

"All right," I told Fledgely. "Just what do you want me to do?"

"I'm not taking the sleeping pill just yet. Finish your rounds and when it's nice and quiet come in here. With your ass greased up. Got it?"

"Yes," I said, angrily. What could I do?

An hour later, I sheepishly appeared by Mr. Fledgely's bedside, having closed the door to the room.

"Now what?" I asked.

"Drop your drawers and turn around. I want to see your ass."

I complied.

"Closer," he commanded.

I backed up toward the bed and soon I felt his long bony fingers squeezing my buns. Twisting and squeezing. Twisting and squeezing. And then a long bony digit started crawling up my hole. I bent forward at the waist slightly thrusting my behind toward him, so that I would dilate more easily and there would be less friction.

"Damn. Nice ass," he said.

"Thank you," I said.

"I mean you're no runway model, but you got a damn nice round firm ass. Real nice. Real nice." He was patting, and rubbing, and fingering me all the while.

"What I'd really like to have is some pussy," he said. "But this ass will do just fine. Get me ready." He had been rubbing his crotch through his gown and I saw an impressive mound arising. I knew what was expected of me, and I gingerly raised his gown, exposing his long gangly legs and gnarly knees. Not a pretty sight. But then I saw what he had been gripping and fondling. Standing straight up. It was long. It was very long. It was a foot long. It was frightening. It was fascinating. It was very aroused. It was oozing pre-seminal fluid. Even at his advanced age, his penis was behaving like one of a randy teenager.

The sight of his organ began to overcome my general revulsion of Mr. Fledgely. How could that thing ever get all the way inside me? It would tear me. It would hurt me. It would be straight in places where my insides were curving. I was afraid of it. I wanted it.

"Suck on it," He said, grasping it and raising his hips towards me. I bent down and took it in my mouth. And more of it. And more of it. I could not take all of it. I wanted to, but I could not take all of it.

I sucked him lasciviously for more than fifteen minutes, occasionally looking up into his mean eyes and noticing the satisfied sneer on his crinkled lips. It had been quite a while since he had had a treat like this.

"Okay," he said. I knew what that meant, and I stripped down and climbed on the bed. I was about to straddle him, when he said. "No. Not like that. I like to be on top. I get to be the one in control, okay?" The 'okay' was not a question. It was a declamatory statement.

"Okay," I said shrugging my shoulders. I only knew how to sit on it. I wasn't sure what to do. As I stood there frozen, he began to order me.

"Lie down on the bed. On your belly. Ass up."

I positioned myself as he wanted, and he sat next to me stroking his obscenely long instrument with his left hand, and playing with my rear with his right hand. He lifted his hospital gown completely off now, and I shut my eyes. I just didn't want to see his hideous form. Whatever was going to happen now would happen in the dark.

He climbed on top of me and was lying flat out along my back, his face to the side of mine. His breath was strong next to my nose. I felt the long rod in the ridge between my buttocks, and then he raised his middle slightly, and positioned it with his right hand. Slowly he eased it into the opening, which I had lubricated before coming to the room, as he instructed me. It wasn't that thick, so it wasn't too painful at first. In fact, it felt kind of pleasant. I had my eyes closed, and I was just imagining the handsome figure of Colonel Marchand on top of me, his weight bearing down.

But it was going in deeper. And deeper. And owwww. Owwwww. I raised my ass a little to ease it around a curve and it was better, and after a while I felt him sink his whole weight on top of me. It was all in. Every inch of it. The whole damn foot of it. My channel closed around it and began to enjoy.

He raised and he sank, he raised and he sank, he raised and he sank, and little by little my bottom adjusted to each of his movements and it was gorgeous. Just gorgeous. My eyes were closed and in my mind my handsome colonel was on top of me with a foot-long prick fucking my little asshole.

He fucked me slowly, enjoying every instant. Every pull, every push. Every time he was completely inside me, he did a little circular movement and our balls bounced together, but now I could feel the end was near. He was beginning to growl, and his breath was getting fiercer. I tried to turn my head away, but he was holding me motionless as he began to slam into me.

I felt the width of it expand inside me, and then the hot fluid was spouting into me. Spout. Spout. Spout. Spout. Spout. Spout. Spout. Etc. etc. He had really needed that. Slowly he lifted his middle and withdrew it, and as the knob exited it was followed by a little burst of gas from deep inside me which had the effect of making me expel what must have been several ounces of his thick white cum. I could feel it running over my balls and down by legs.

I reached for a tissue and tried to clean myself. I let Mr. Fledgely clean his own greasy prick. Quietly I got dressed, and before leaving the room, I handed him a cup of water and his sleeping pill and waited until he had swallowed. Then I turned off all the lights and left the room, closing the door behind me, and returned to the nurses' station in the center of the corridor.

"Any problem?" asked Malvina, my co-worker on the night shift. I had been gone a very long time.

"No. Everything's fine," I answered. And indeed it was. As disgusting as I found Mr. Fledgely, I had absolutely adored his bony body on top of mine as he was plumbing the very depths of my anal canal. I don't have to tell you that this became a regular thing, night after night. But I reasoned that I was bringing great comfort to an elderly patient who had little to look forward to. I was Cooper 'Nightingale', the young man with the lamp. Wasn't this really what being a nurse was all about?

But in short order, Mr. Fledgely's son and daughter had him moved into a nursing home, and his bed was filled with a series of other patients, to whom I ministered and dispensed pills.

One day a new patient arrived. In room 559. Just down and across the corridor. A very interesting gentleman. His name was Pedrao Gilberto. Senhor Pedrao Gilberto. He was a truck-driver, and he was from Brazil, and had been visiting his sister when he had taken ill. He was a big wooly bear of a man, with a pendulous belly, which strangely enough did not repel me. He was a diabetic, and had had a small attack. One of my duties was to give him his evening insulin injection in his fleshy behind.

The very first night as I raised his gown to inject the medicine I was stunned by the size and beauty of his enormous buttcheeks. They were not totally firm. He was, after all, not young. Over fifty But he was a powerful handsome man, with a full head of almost white hair, and white tufts all over his large body. On his back. On his arms. On his legs. Around his penis. He even had a small white beard and moustache. And though he was dark complected, he seemed to me like Santa Claus. A Brazilian Santa Claus. And he was jolly and merry and we had great fun together.

The first night when I raised his gown and saw his behind, my legs went limp. As I injected the needle, he flinched and his buttcheeks jiggled enticingly. Withdrawing the needle, I sterilized the spot with an alcohol swab and then began to rub his entire butt soothingly.

"That feels so nice," he said. "I love massages." I immediately began to massage his other buttcheek with my other hand. He gasped in appreciation, raising his cheeks up a little. Before long, I was giving him a full body massage. But I did not touch his penis. It was his beautiful roly-poly buttocks that thrilled me. So soft. So jiggly. What would it be like to lie on those two pliable pillows? I could only fantasize.

On the night of the third massage, the fantasies stopped. As I was lovingly rubbing his generous bottom, his right hand reached out sneakily and grasped my penis through my uniform. My stiff penis. We both knew immediately what was required. I crossed to the door and shut it and came back to the bed, dropping my uniform beside it. He lay happily on his stomach and waved his beautiful loose jiggling cheeks around in the air to excite me. They did.

Not having expected this, I had not brought any lubricant, but there was a small plastic bottle of hand lotion on the night table. I used that. This was a first for me. I was a man, but I had never fucked anyone before. This would be like my confirmation into the adult world. I was so excited.

My prick slipped easily into the warm round hole. My prick was not so big, but I think that other pricks had expanded the hole before I got there. Still, it was wonderful. I lay on his back and breathed in the aroma of his thick white hair, and felt the most unbelievable bounciness of his beautiful bottom. And my penis felt like it had found a home. For the first time in its life, it had found a real home. I would have to do this more often.

I felt the cum bubbling in my balls. I hated to have this end, but I needed to shoot my load. As he felt it scald into him he raised up, (raising me with him-he was much bigger than I) and he began to jerk himself off onto the clean hospital sheet. What would the morning staff make of that?

When I returned to the nurses' station, Malvina again asked me if everything was all right, and I said to her, "wonderful. Everything is wonderful."

Yes, I had pleasured myself. But look what I was doing for the patient. He had wanted it desperately, and I had provided him with hope and salvation. Was there a better nurse in the hospital than I? I didn't think so.

Pedrao was there for only a week and then a fallow period set in. Short term visitors with whom I had little chance to get acquainted. I went back to my magazines and dreamed daily of Colonel Marchand. If only he would call me. If only we could run off together. If only he would be my knight in shining armor and save me from what was now becoming just an aching routine. My life was nothing but drudgery stretching endlessly into the future until I would be old and alone. I wanted to be loved. I wanted to be romanced. I wanted all the adventures that Colonel Marchand had promised me. But I would never see him again. I had looked in the phone book, and he must have had an unlisted number, because he just wasn't in it.

Two years passed, and then the most amazing thing happened. I was at the nurses' station while Malvina was doing her rounds. I was leafing through the local tabloid, which I hardly ever do. I'm really not much interested in either news or gossip. BUT. But there on page one was a picture of my handsome Colonel.

"Marchand to run for State Senate' announced the headline.

I quickly flipped the pages to the article and read it excitedly. "Roland Marchand, retired U.S.M.C. Colonel and war hero announces plans to run for State Senate seat being vacated by retiring centenarian Wilfred Gomes."

I closed the paper and took several deep breaths. I think tears were running down my cheeks. I had found my wonderful Colonel. He was running for the State Senate. We would meet again. I would attend a rally. Better still, I would sign up as a campaign volunteer.

The one thing that distressed me was that the Colonel was running for the party which hated and despised people like I now realized I was. They wanted to take away all our civil rights, and if they could have, they would have been overjoyed to see us all destroyed: i.e. shot, burned at the stake, or beheaded. But it was obvious that the Colonel didn't feel that way, so he could only change things for the better. He would make them see light and reason.

A few days later after a little detective work, I located campaign headquarters in a tiny storefront on Sycamore Street. I immediately went in and volunteered. After filling out several forms, the nice young lady took me to the corner desk in the back of the front room and introduced me to the campaign manager, Lenny Silver, who shook my hand and welcomed me.

We began to lay out campaign literature on different tables, and a couple of the young ladies took piles of pamphlets out into their cars to distribute through the neighborhood. They told me that Colonel Marchand would be checking in sometime during the afternoon. I was hoping he arrived before I had to leave for the hospital. My heart was pounding.

Would he remember me? How could he not? How could he not remember when I loved him so desperately? We had been such good friends. He had said that. I knew I had never had a closer friend. I longed to be with him again. Of course he would remember me. He had just been too busy to keep in touch. He probably had thought of me as often as I had thought of him. I couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he saw me here.

Around 3 p.m., after a busy day recruiting new staffers, the bells over the front door jingled and in he stepped. My handsome Colonel Marchand. So masculine. So imposing. He was so tall he almost had to stoop coming through the door. My knees started shaking a little, and my throat went dry. I couldn't wait to see his reaction when he saw my face.

But he didn't seem to notice me. He went straight over to Lenny Silver's desk and pulled over a chair. They huddled together in a private discussion for almost half an hour. Soon I would have to leave for work. If only he would look in my direction. But then the conference ended, and Colonel Marchand took a stack of papers and was about to go into his private office, behind the main salon, when I stood up from the collating table and said tremulously------"Colonel Marchand-----------"

He looked at me blankly. My God. He didn't even know who I was. After all we had been to each other. My heart was about to break.

"Yes?" Asked Colonel Marchand, looking at me quizzically and trying to place my face. I think he realized he had seen it before somewhere.

Lenny Silver got up and came over to me, leading me toward the Colonel.

"I'm sorry," said Lenny Silver. "Colonel Marchand. Let me introduce you to our new volunteer, Cooper-------Cooper----what is it?" he asked me.

"Cribbins," I offered. "Cooper Cribbins."

"Cooper here is turning out to be a real good worker. He's solidly dedicated to your campaign," said Lenny Silver.

"Cooper-----Cooper. You know, you look familiar to me. Have we met before?"

I answered haltingly, almost in tears. "Well, yes. I work as a nurse at Kingston Memorial. I took care of you when you had your skiing accident a couple of years ago," I offered.

His ruddy face turned ashen. But then he almost immediately recovered his composure. "Good to have you on our team, Cooper. Why don't you come into the back office with me, and I'll try to explain to you what I'd like to accomplish in the State Senate."

He held the door open for me and followed me through it. Then he closed the door. We were alone. Now we could say what was really in our hearts.

"I was hoping you would call me," I began.

"Well. You know, you can see I've been very busy. Politics is very time consuming"

"But the Sahara. We were going to ride side by side on camels over the Sahara. You told me."

"Yes. The Sahara. Of course. But there have been so many pressing domestic problems. I just couldn't get away."

"But I thought you liked me." I was almost sobbing now.

"Of course I like you Cooper." He patted me on the shoulder.

"I thought you really liked me," I pursued. And then finally it burst out. The deepest feelings that had been buried within me. "I love you," I told him.

"Don't be silly, Cooper. We had a little thing. That's all. I was immobilized.

"You promised to take me all over the world," I protested.

"And I wanted to. I really wanted to, but then I got involved," he explained.

"Involved?" I questioned. What did that mean.

"Cooper, I'm a married man."

"But your wife died," I reminded him bitterly. "You were all alone."

"Well, yes. I was then. But I got remarried. I have a new wife. This really classy society lady. She's the one who inspired me to run for the Senate. She's backing me all the way. With her money, her connections, her confidence. She's a great lady."

I nodded. He continued.

"So you see I wouldn't ever want anything to come up that my put my present position in jeopardy. You understand that, don't you?"

"Yes," I answered. "I had pinned my hopes all these years on a man who considered me a temporary convenience and was now finished with me. Goodbye Annapurna. Goodbye Sahara. Goodbye Antarctica. Etc. etc.

"You will be discreet?" he asked me.

I assured him I would be, but I was getting angry now. I wanted to tell the world that Colonel Marchand had fucked his male nurse while during a stay in Kingston Memorial. That would put an end to the Senate career. That would put an end to the marriage. He would be bereft and alone like I was and come running back to me. The thought flitted through my head, and he watched me with piercing eyes almost divining what I was thinking.

"I had really been looking forward to the Sun Valley Ski Trip we talked about, " I told him. "You said you were going to teach me how to ski."

"Yes. Yes, I did. I remember that. And I feel ashamed that I haven't followed through on any of my promises. You know what? I'm going to take you on a great trip this very next weekend. Maybe even for a week. Can you get the time off?" he asked me.

"Yes. Yes," I answered in a rush. They owed me a lot of vacation days.

"Yes. But it has to be our little secret. No one else must suspect a thing."

"I understand completely," I assured him

I didn't care if he had a wife. I only wanted to be with him as much as possible and to love him as I always had.

"Where will we go?"

"You just let me do all the planning. I want it to be a wonderful surprise for you."

My heart leaped in my chest, and I leapt forward to throw my arms around him. I wanted to give him a big hug, and maybe even a little kiss. I was overjoyed.

"I have to leave for the hospital now," I explained.

"You just leave all the arrangements to me. I'll think up something really special that you're just going to love. Do you still have that nice tight ass that felt so good?"

"Yes," I assured. "I've been alone a lot recently-----dreaming of you."

"Poor kid," he threw his right arm over my shoulder in a big brotherly fashion. "Old Colonel Marchand is going to do right by you. I'm going to give you the vacation of a lifetime. One that you'll never forget."

Everything was going to be all right. All my dreams were going to come true. Even though we couldn't live our love out in the open, I would still be Colonel Marchand's kept boy. I couldn't wait to hand in my resignation at the hospital. All my training in care and compassion would be now only for him.

"But listen," he cautioned. "If we're going to be pals like this, I don't think you should be working on the campaign. I wouldn't feel comfortable."

I understood totally, and agreed to tell Lenny Silver that I found I was going to be too busy to really give the campaign my proper attention, so that I would not be back. Colonel Marchand promised to call me at the hospital and leave instructions on where we were to meet Friday evening.

"But I'm not always at the nurses' station," I said.

"If I call when you're not there, isn't there someone who can give you a message?"

"Yes. Someone is usually there. If I'm doing my rounds Malvina will be at the desk."