John and Peter - Chapter 2

For a few seconds, Peter’s departure brought me some relief, as the pressure he was putting on me seemed to leave with him. But only seconds later my whole consciousness seemed to plunge into despair. The very fact that he was running from my life brought a deep since of loss. Up until that moment I hadn’t realized that there were deep down parts of me that had a desperate need for him. I needed his friendship, and I needed his loving attentions. And so for the first time since meeting him, I needed for him to know that he was truly important to me.

Having realized that I didn’t want to lose Peter; that he had an importance to me that was so much more than I could admit to or explain, I suddenly realized that that importance was that the fact that I loved Peter, and that in my inability to be honest with myself I had hurt him. That led me to immediately fear that I had hurt him enough that I might never see him again. And because I realized that I didn’t just like him, but that I truly loved him more deeply than I ever loved anyone ever before in my life, I all but became sick to my stomach.

Besides being plunged into depression, I worried about Peter all the rest of that day and into that night. And when he didn’t show up for my morning enema, I really began to worry. As it turned out, a female registered nurse administered that enema while telling me that it would be the last one I would have to endure. I know I won’t be able to explain this, but that enema was a totally different experience from what I had experienced with Peter. It was a disappointing experience that didn’t cause an erection. Nor had it brought me any joy or pleasure. It was an experience that caused me to feel the loss of Peter more profoundly than I had previously thought possible.

I think this story might make more since if I explained my previous experience with enemas. My mother gave me three or four during my childhood. And if I remember correctly, they were all administered when I was sick, and between my ages of four or five, to maybe eleven or twelve. I both hated and dreaded them, not because they were particularly uncomfortable or painful, but because they were the most embarrassing thing I remember my mother ever doing to me. Even though my mother was always considerate and understanding throughout the process, all of the required intimate touching and submission, not to mention the embarrassment of having to poop my enemas back out while my mother remained in the bathroom while she washed and cared for her equipment was so humiliating for me that I literally prayed that every enema I was forced to take would be my last for the rest of my life.

The enema that that nurse administered was just as embarrassing as the ones my mother gave me when I was a boy. But because it lacked the loving understand I felt during my mother’s enemas, it was even more awkward and humiliating. And when it was all over, I realized that Peter’s enemas had been entirely different. All of the intimate touching and submission seemed to lean toward wonderful thoughts, feelings, and sensations. Thoughts and feelings, that even though I didn’t understand, brought a mysterious pleasures to me that seemed to be life fulfilling.

After sharing all of the above, I hope you can understand why at lunch time I asked my nurse about Peter. And in her professional way she was courteous, but only offered worthless and evasive answers to my inquires. But as luck would have it, just after lunch I saw Peter pass by my door in the main hallway. I called out, and it seemed like forever before he came back to my door. He wasn’t smiling. In fact, he looked emotionally hurt, so I said, “Please come in and close the door.”

“I really shouldn’t,” he said, “I have several patients to attend to. Cathleen will help you if you’ll just push your call button.”

“No, Peter. Please, I really need you. And I know I was an asshole for not knowing that yesterday.”

Peter looked down the hallway in both directions before he finally entered my room and closed its door. He didn’t speak, so I said, “Look Peter, I know I acted like a jerk yesterday, but I just wasn’t ready to deal with certain truths about myself. But I’ve had all night to think things over, and so I know that I not only like you, but that I really need you, and not just to care for me, but to be my true and lasting friend.” Peter remained silent, and so I quickly added, “So can you please forgive me, and maybe give me another chance? I’ll even beg if that’ll help you forgive me.”

Instead of answering my question, Peter bent down and kissed me. I had never been kissed by a boy before, but Peter’s kiss was the most moving kiss I had ever experienced. And while it lasted his left hand fished around under my covers until he took grasp of my penis. And then he pushed his tongue into my mouth to lick my tongue and lips while he continued to massage my penis and balls. After several seconds of that intimate connection, he lifted from my lips, and said, “I have to go right now so I can put in for vacation. I read your orders, and if you have no further complications you’ll be discharged tomorrow, sometime around noon.” Then Peter smiled, and added, “And when they come in to talk to you about your discharge, you need to tell them that you have a friend who will pick you up and care for you once you’re home. You might even tell them that your friend is a licensed C.N.A. so they won’t even think about sending you to a convalescent hospital. You don’t have to give them my name. That’s none of their business. Just tell them that I’m a C.N.A.” Then he paused again, seemingly to just look at me before adding, “I promise you won’t be sorry that you’re finally dealing with your true self, John. I’ve been doing it for over a year now, and it’s been a wonderful experience, especially after meeting you.”

And with that, Peter left, and I didn’t see him for the rest of that day. I wasn’t officially told that I was being discharged until that next morning, when instead of being given my usual morning enema, I was told that I was well enough to be discharged. I didn’t know how I was supposed to notify Peter as I didn’t have his phone number. I also didn’t know how I was going to get from the hospital to my apartment. But as if by magic, Peter showed up at the appropriate time. He seemed very organized as he managed every aspect of my discharge like the professional he was.

It was a 14 miles trip from that hospital to my apartment, and Peter seemed to speed the whole way. When I asked him why he was in such a hurry, he said, “Because ever since I first laid eyes on you, all I’ve wanted was to be alone with you in a bed where I could hold and cuddle your body to mine. We can’t do much more than that, but I really need to hold and hug you. And of course, tomorrow morning I’m going to give you your morning enema.”

That caused me to remember that my nurse had said that my doctor said I shouldn’t need any more enemas, and so I relayed that information to Peter. He just smiled, and said, “Well, John, you’re just going to have to trust me on this. Because I think you’ll be needing a nice warm soapy enema every day, probably for the rest of your life.”