My Little Boy

Chapter 1

I really don’t know how to explain all of this, mainly because I’m not sure I understand it myself. But I’ll begin by telling you that I’ve known I was gay since I realized the meaning of sex, which for me was probably around the age of nine or ten. Yet I kept trying to fool myself, and so it was like I didn’t really admit it to myself until I was almost 20.

Most of my life was like any other kid growing up under the warm California sun. I did okay in high school, but my life seemed to lack direction when I graduated, and so instead of going on to college I fooled around for a year while I lived with my parents. I worked a “non-career” job, and hung out with my friends. But after I turned 19, I decided it was time to get serious about my life, and so I began to search and plan so that my life would have some meaning and purpose. It was during that time that I decided that I wanted to help people by going into medicine. While taking a realistic look at myself, I knew I didn’t have what it took to become a physician, and so I took the next best path, which was in my mind to become a registered male nurse.

I did a lot of research on the internet, and finally decided to sign up for a local nursing program that would grant a Bachelor of Science degree in nursing in only two years. It was a highly focused program offered by The California Academy of Nursing in San Francisco. That was handy for me as I lived in San Francisco with my parents, which made the program even more affordable.

The program consisted of regular classes that were taught on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, which left Tuesdays and Thursdays for hands-on patient care under the direct supervision of the regular registered nursing staff at San Francisco General Hospital. That part of the training was considered an internship that cycled all students through all services of the hospital, thereby offering everyone a wide variety of experiences. I loved the program and was doing quite well, and so just before I turned 20, I took and passed the state certification exam to earn my C.N.A. certification, or Certified Nursing Assistant certification. I was very proud as I felt I was at least half way to my goal. And because that certification allowed me to actually perform some procedures unsupervised, and to have even greater patient responsibilities, I finally felt that my training had brought me to a point that I had some real value to both the hospital and my patients.

To my surprise, one of my jobs as a C.N.A. was to administer enemas, a procedure that wasn’t ordered all that often, but a procedure that I particularly enjoyed, especially when the patient was young, male, and attractive. As unlikely as this may seem to some, by that point in my life the enema had also begun to play a regular part in my masturbatory practices, especially when I felt confident in my privacy. I knew that other people didn’t feel the same way I felt about enemas, because the regular RN staff at San Francisco General seemed to treat the enema procedure as though it was far beneath their pay grade, and so almost always delegated the procedure to their assigned C.N.A.’s.

I simply accepted all of that as normal, and gave little thought to it until one night during a state wide flu epidemic. All of our beds were full, and our RN staff was over taxed. As a result, I was given orders to administer a full bowel irrigation for a 24 year old Flu patient. I went to his room and found him asleep, and so as per hospital protocols I read his wrist ID band to determine that he was indeed Mathew J. Hughes. Then I tried to wake him so he could verbally confirm that fact, but he was so sick, and in and out of what I figured were fever deliriums that I gave up on that confirmation, and instead decided that his condition might require extra efforts that could best be performed in the privacy of a treatment room rather than at his bedside. So I located a gurney, and transferred him to a treatment room where we would have more privacy, and where we were more likely to be undisturbed.

Now I would like to think that this had nothing to do with my deciding to administer Mathew’s enema in private, but he was an attractive man, and not just attractive, but attractive in a very handsome and sexy way. And because he was so sick I felt a great compassion for him, and so particularly wanted to comfort him as I performed the procedure. Add to that, the fact that the treatment room afforded us enough privacy that I could relate to him in a very tender and loving way without anyone taking notice. And as a result of his altered state of mind, I did just that as I encouraged and comforted him, almost as if he were a child as I urged and assisted him into the “Sim’s” enema position, which had him lying on his left side with his right knee flexed up toward his chest while his left leg remained almost straight. And because he was so erotically attractive, that tenderness and comforting soon became so erotic for me that I became fully erect. What I didn’t understand, at least at first, was that even though he was quite ill, my caring efforts had become equally erotic for him.

Even though he was 4 years my senior, he was so sick that he acted more like an innocent little boy than the adult he actually was. And even though he was trying as hard as he could, he only managed to take about half of the 1500 milliliter enema that his doctor had ordered. Because of the distress he demonstrated, and his inability to take anymore solution, I almost immediately let him expel in a bedpan. But because his doctor had stipulated a complete colonic flush in his enema orders, I refilled the enema bag so I could make a second try.

For his second enema I had him shift from the prescribed “Sim’s” position to lay prone on his belly. And because his gown opened at his back, his well-rounded buttocks were then fully in my view. He didn’t have what gays commonly refer to as a “bubble butt”, but his butt cheeks were fully rounded, and in my mind, perfect. I massaged and comforted him again, at first paying most of my attentions to his humpy butt cheeks. But when I finally pried them open so I could visualize his anus, I found that whole scene to be so appealing that I began to massage his butt in a very loving and erotic way. As sick as Mathew Hughes was I could tell by his moans that he was enjoying my attentions. And so wanting to add to his joy, I began to lubricate his anus in a sensual and loving way before reinserting my well-greased finger fully through his anus and well up into his rectum in preparation for his second enema. His rectum seemed quite warm and muscularly active, all of which caused my erection to become even more pumped. His clutching buttocks and twitching anus were all such turn-ons for me that my cock all but throbbed all the time my lubricated gloved finger worked in his anus and rectum to insure proper lubrication.

I administered his second enema while trying to comfort him by massaging his butt cheeks as I stimulated his anal/rectal passage by keeping the enema hose in all but constant motion while trying to push as much of it as possible up into his colon. Unfortunately, even though I had been so loving and encouraging, his second enema was no more successful than his first, as I was only able to instill enough warm soapy water to only flush his rectum and sigmoid colon. So again, and only because his doctor had ordered a full colonic irrigation, I made a third try at getting him to take and hold at least one liter of enema solution for a period of 5 minutes.

As it turned out, it eventually took four tries, four very sensual tries before Mathew J. Hughes managed to take and hold enough enema solution to achieve something close to a full colonic flush. There was some crying on his part, and a lot more comforting and loving on my part. I had encourage him in every way possible. I even called him ‘Baby’ a couple of times while massaging his meaty butt cheeks while gently working the enema hose in and out of his tightly held anus. And when he began to panic for fear of losing his 4th enema before his expected holding time was up, I withdrew the enema hose and reinserted my gloved finger to more thoroughly stimulate his anus and rectum in effort to help him hold his enema long enough that we wouldn’t have to make a 5th try. And because he continued to act like an innocent child throughout that entire procedure, I caught myself acting more like a loving parent than a hospital professional, a loving parent who truly loved every erotic square inch of his beautiful baby boy.

Mathew’s enema session turned out to be nothing short of a fantastic sexual experience for me, causing me to develop and maintain a throbbing boner that lasted throughout the procedure. And as unexpected as it was, mainly because Mathew was so sick and acting as if he were on the brink of total befuddlement, I had him roll back on his back so I could massage his tummy to more evenly distribute the enema solution, all in effort to help him retain his fourth enema long enough for it to do as good a jog as possible. And that was when I discovered that he too had become fully erect, a condition I chose not to discuss or even mention to him. Instead, I continued my abdominal massage while also continuing to work my finger in his anus and rectum. Fortunately, together we were able to make his fourth enema successful enough that I considered the procedure to have fulfilled his doctor’s orders.

But when it came time for him to expel, I noted a suspicious wet spot on his gown just over his penis. Without mentioning that discovery, I pulled my right glove off and felt the wet spot with my bare fingers. All most instantly I sensed an obvious slipperiness, causing me to know for sure that the wet spot wasn’t a result of spilled enema solution, but rather that my handsome childlike patient had been rectally stimulated enough that he ejaculated. Because he had been so feverishly delirious all through the procedure, I was totally surprise that he had actually ejaculated. However, I wasn’t at all surprised that the procedure had been equally sexual for me. I wanted to kiss and hug him, but instead I congratulated him on completing his treatment while I slipped a low profile bedpan beneath his butt so he could relieve himself of the great pressure in his bowel.

As soon as Mathew felt he had fully evacuated, I transported him back to his room on the gurney. While still wanting to hug and kiss him, instead I told him that he had been a very good boy as I transferred him back to his bed. And just as I was about to leave, in a soft slurring voice, he asked, “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

Thinking that in his delirious mind he had mistaken me for his mother, I turned back to him and drug my hand softly down the side of his face as I said, “Not tonight, Baby.” and then I left him so he could get some much needed rest and sleep. Mathew must have really needed to sleep, because I’m sure he had fallen asleep before I left his bedside.

As that was a Thursday, and because of my Tuesday/Thursday ward duty schedule, I wasn’t scheduled to return to that ward until the following Tuesday. And because that was a five days later, I wasn’t surprised when I found another man in Mathew’s bed when I returned. Although I really wanted to see Mathew again, I took some comfort in feeling that my persistence in the treatment room that previous Thursday had played a part in Mathew’s recovery. But because I had been so sexually charged by the experience I had with him, I fantasized about Mathew and the enemas I gave him almost every night thereafter during my masturbatory adventures. And when privacy allowed, I often gave myself an enema to hold while jacking to orgasm so I could better share the experience from Mathew’s point of view.

Now even though I found Mathew’s enemas to be sexually erotic, because of my training I never again acted that way with any other patient, and so truly thought that would be the end of that experience. So, even though that episode often played in my fantasies, I never thought it would ever play a significant role in shaping my life nor Mathew’s. But just over a year later, on my 21st birthday to be exact, two of my closest nursing friends took me to a bar that was out in the Marina District to celebrate my turning 21. Bars were a totally new experience for me, so I didn’t know what to expect. One of my friends asked the hostess to seat us at a table, but the place was so crowded that she had to seat us at the extreme end of the bar, almost immediately adjacent to where their band would soon perform.

My friends and I were able to talk at first, but when the band took the stage, their amplified guitars, synthesizer, and drum music was so loud that talking became impossible. As a result, I began to focus on the band, and almost immediately recognized that the lead singer was none other than Mathew J. Hughes, the enema patient whom I had fallen in love with a year before. And let me tell you that as hot and sexy as Mathew Hughes was when he was sick, he was ten times more so on stage. In fact, he was so sexy, that without realizing it I had begun to stare at him, to the point that my friends took notice. And it seemed that Mathew was equally mesmerized by me as he all but stared directly into my eyes for the rest of their opening song. And when that song concluded, he turned to his band and gave them a song title. To my amazement it was a love ballad that he immediately and obviously began to sing as if he were singing to me and only me. Without realizing it, I continued to totally focus and stare at him all through that song, to the point that my friends couldn’t help but notice our obvious attraction to each other, and so soon asked if I had a gay crush on the singer. That question embarrassed me to the point that I blushed uncontrollably. I tried to look away from Mathew, but my attraction to him was so great that I couldn’t keep my eyes from him for any length of time. In fact, our connection continued to be so obvious that my friends began to once again tease and accuse me of having a gay crush on the handsome singer.

Because I was still very much in the closet, I denied their accusations, and told my friends that I only stared because I liked the song. And then I brushed the whole matter off by changing the subject to the fact that that was my first time to be in a bar. We only stayed for two drinks, and then left the bar to take in a movie. All I can say, is that once we left the bar I was truly glad that my friends stopped accusing me of having a gay crush on the obviously beautiful singer.

Unfortunately I couldn’t get the renewed images of Mathew singing on stage out of my mind. In fact, I was so taken by him that I went back to that bar that next night by myself, only to discover a different group on stage. I started to leave, but before heading to the door I asked the bartender about the group that had performed the night before, and quizzed him as to when they would perform again. He was very friendly, and took the time to look at a schedule before telling me that the group’s name was “City Lights”, and that they only performed on Mondays and Fridays. That was all I needed to hear. I returned to my parent’s home and jacked off to memories and fantasies of Mathew, not only as he appeared on stage the night before, but also as I remembered him while he was trying so hard to take and hold his prescribed enema while under my care.

Wednesday and Thursday seemed to drag on forever, but immediately after class that Friday, I returned to the bar, and after several minutes with no band performing, I once again asked the bartender about the City Lights group. It was a different bartender, but he too was very friendly as he told me that they wouldn’t go on until 8 that night, and that they would play until midnight. As I wasn’t a drinker, nor could I afford that much bar priced liquor, I left and returned to my car. As my parent’s home wasn’t that far, I returned home to do some assigned reading. The reading was technical, and made even more difficult as I had a hard time concentrating because images of Mathew Hughes all but constantly played through my mind.

I left home an hour later, in what I thought was plenty of time to make it back to the bar by 8:00 O’clock. But because I had an incredibly hard time finding a parking place, it was actually 8:20 when I finally entered the bar. The band and my singer were already on stage and preforming when I arrived. It was easy to see that Mathew wasn’t the same sick little boy I interacted with in the hospital. He was powerful and seemed fully in command of his audience while he sang and played his guitar. He didn’t notice me while I stood in the back of the room, but once I was seated at a table nearer the stage, he made all but immediate eye contact with me, and once again began to sing as if he were singing only to me. And like the rest of his audience, I was soon fully under his musical spell, only that time, and probably because I was alone, as soon as his band finished their set, he came off the stage and walked directly to my table.

He introduced himself as Matt Hughes. And I introduced myself as Elgin Worth. Not knowing how I should act in regards to our earlier experience at San Francisco General, I chose to act as if I had no memory of our previous meeting. He asked if he could sit, as he wanted to talk to me. He was so hot that I still couldn’t take my eyes from him as I offered him the only other chair at my tiny table. I offered to buy him a drink, but he bought me one instead. He seemed very confident and direct as he then began to quiz me about my life, about who I was, and what I wanted out of life, all without ever bringing up our earlier experience at San Francisco General.

If Mathew had been anyone else, I would have thought he was being awfully nosey, and probably would have told him so. But he wasn’t done, and because he only had a few minutes, he then came right out and said that he liked me, and so wanted to spend some time with me. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t help acting as if he had no real importance to me, and so I told him that I thought we were spending time together. That caused him to clarify his statement, by saying that he didn’t think I understood that he really liked me, and so he wanted to talk to me privately. And before I could speak, he went on to ask what I was doing that following day (Saturday). I told him that I wasn’t doing anything special, and then he told me that he hoped that I might then see my way clear to spending at least part it with him. I asked him what time would be good for him, and he said any time. Then he explained that he owned his own I.T. company, and so had full control of his time off, allowing us to meet anytime that was good for me.

I truly wanted to hug and kiss him, yet I feigned all but total indifference. Fortunately, and I do mean fortunately, he was insistent, and so we made a date to meet each other at a neutral place that following morning. He suggested a waffle house at 10:AM, that unbeknownst to him was only blocks from my parent’s home. So all was set for my first gay date, and I couldn’t wait.