Tom's Surgery

The thick soles of my shoes squeaked on the ward's polished floor. A 35 year old male nurse, I worked at St Augustine's Private Hospital. Sliding the curtain back I found my patient nervously waiting for me. Tom Speight was a 23 year old farm boy with a distressing problem. The muscle at the neck of his bladder had thickened, causing him to want to pee all the time.

I looked at my handsome but incredibly nervous patient and did my best to reassure him.

"It is a minor surgical procedure, Tom. Normally done as Day Surgery. However, your surgeon thought it best you stay with us overnight so we can make you more comfortable".

Riding a horse for an eight hour stretch in the hill country was 'comfortable' for Tom. Being in the strange environment of a private room in the hospital was sheer torture for him.

"I better get you prepped for surgery". I continued. "Have your bowels moved today?"

He blinked and then nodded his head like a little boy.

"Tom, I'll get you to lie on your side, please. Pull your knees up to your chin".

I snapped on a latex glove. The surgical gown had opened, revealing Tom's beautiful pink buttocks. His hairless crease displayed his pink puckered hole. I lubricated a gloved finger with KY and then penetrated his hot, tight tunnel. Tight? Nothing had been up Tom's ass since his mother had cleaned it with a cotton bud when he was a baby. I touched his prostate and saw the front of his hospital gown tent. I withdrew my finger.

"All done". I binned the glove. "Relax, Tom".

The farm boy rolled onto his back and had trouble looking me in the eye.

"I'll get you to take your pre-med. It will help you relax and make you sleepy". Who was I kidding? A horse tranquilizer wouldn't have helped Tom, the state he was in. Obediently, he swallowed the two tablets with a drink of water.

"We're just about done", I said. "But I do have to give you a shave, ready for the surgeon".

Tom ran a hand over the his manly chin.

"Your face is fine. I need to shave your pubic area".

That 'scared little boy' look flooded Tom's face again. I took a battery-powered disposable shaver off the tray and pulled up the hospital gown with my other hand. Tom's thick, uncut penis was nestled under a patch of black pubic hair. I slowly shaved off all the pubic hair. Tom even suffered with fortitude my holding his penis upright, between my finger and thumb, while I shaved the downy hair which covered his testicles. I rubbed antiseptic gel all over the shaven area and then restored his modesty by lowering his gown again.

"All done, Tom".

"Thanks", he muttered.

"Is there anything you want to ask me about the surgery?"

He blinked. "There won't be an .. injection .. will there?" His eyes were pleading.

"Well, yes. The anesthetist will give you one when he puts you to sleep".

"I can't do this. Can I get my clothes and go home?"

"It's ok, Tom". I gently lowered him back onto the bed. "If you want, I'll take you down to theatre myself and stay with you until you're asleep".

"Will you?"

"Of course. Now close your eyes and let the pre-med take effect".

A short time later I wheeled Tom's bed down the corridor to the surgical suite where the anesthetist was waiting. Expertly, he placed a shunt in Tom's left hand before injecting sodium pentathol.

"Count back from 100, Tom". The farm boy was asleep at 96.

After an orderly had returned my patient to his room I checked the catheter in his penis. Then I went off duty, leaving Tom in the capable hands of Nurse Irene Wirth.

The next morning I read in the patient notes that Tom had been a bit restless during the night. The catheter had been removed at 4.00am and Tom had since managed to pass 200ml of fluid all by himself.

I pulled the curtain back and my patient looked up at me. He appeared tired but a shy smile lit up his handsome features when he saw me.

"You're doing well", I told him.

"It hurts like hell when I pee", he replied.

"That will pass. The more fluid you drink the quicker the urethra will heal". I filled a glass with water and Tom obediently drank it all down.

"What happens today?" he asked.

"Well, the surgeon will look in on you shortly". I paused. "You'll be discharged around lunch time".

Tom didn't look too enthusiastic about that.

"Can't I stay another night?"

"Afraid not. This bed is required for another patient at one o'clock".

"I don't have anyone to stay with", Tom said.

"There are motels near the hospital. Time enough to arrange all that later" I gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Breakfast will be here shortly".

The ward was frantic as usual. After lunch I found Tom sitting in a chair in the pleasant sun-filled lounge, his suitcase beside him.

As a gay man I found the farm boy undeniably attractive. He looked so out-of-place and unhappy that I felt sorry for him.

"Tom, did you ring the motel"?

"No", he replied, miserably.

"Tell you what. I've got a spare room in my apartment. It's nothing flash but you are welcome to stay there until you feel ready to go home".

The drowning man grasped the lifeline I had thrown him. "You really mean I can stay with you?"

"Sure". I tried to make it sound as though ex-patients stayed with me all the time. Tom's face crinkled into a wide smile.

"Thanks", he said, shyly.

"Don't mention it. I go off duty at 3.30 and I'll take you home then".

At the end of my shift we drove the short distance to my apartment. I cleared some papers off the bed in the spare room ready for Tom. I turned the heating up high to get rid off the Autumn chill. Tom followed me around like a little kid.

I nuked two frozen meals in the microwave. We ate in companionable silence. Tom had one eye on the television set. He had never seen any satellite channels before.

Afterwards, he watched me stack the dishes in the dishwasher.

"Steve", he asked me "Why are you putting those dirty dishes in that cupboard?"

I explained it was a dishwasher and showed him how the thing worked. Tom was impressed. There was an awkward moment when he offered to pay for his board and lodging. I told him I was enjoying his company and wouldn't dream of taking any money from him.

We settled in front of the telly and Tom was soon fast asleep. About 8 o'clock I gently woke him and suggested he'd be more comfortable in bed. When I checked on him later he was out for the count. Modern anesthetics enhance surgery but can leave patients exhausted for days afterwards. He was still sound asleep when I left for work at seven the next morning.

Now I was not in the habit of hiding my sexuality. Gay books and magazines covered the coffee table. When I returned home that afternoon it was obvious my handsome lodger had been looking at them. I smiled to myself. He was nowhere to be seen.

I found him in the toilet. From the look of him he'd been sitting there for some time.

"I need to poop, Tom", he said, "But can't do it". His eyes sent a subtext message: 'you're the nurse fix it'.

So, I took him into his bedroom and had him lie on his side, in the fetal position. I lubed my finger and gently inserted it into his oh-so-tight anus. His sphincter muscles swirled around my invading finger. I pushed until there was resistance.

"Impacted feces", I diagnosed out loud.

"Is that bad, Steve?" asked my guest.

"No. But we don't want you straining. I'll insert two suppositories. They should get you going again".

I unpeeled two 'bullets' and rammed them up Tom's hot tunnel. The muscle popped when I withdrew my finger. I checked my watch.

"Try and hold on for at least fifteen minutes", I advised, sitting beside him on the bed. When the cramps started I gently massaged his tummy. Tom actually managed twenty minutes before bolting for the toilet.

Sometime later he emerged looking both relieved and sheepish.

"Better?"

"Oh, yes!" he affirmed.

The next afternoon when I got home from work my spare set of house-keys was on the table along with a note. 'Thanks for everything", Tom had scrawled. My lounge was a pleasant sunlit room but it felt cold and empty without the farm boy.

Weeks later, he turned up on my front door step. He'd just been to the hospital for the usual post-operative checkup by the surgeon. I asked him how he'd got on.

"If peeing was an Olympic sport, I'd win Gold", he declared.

It was my day off so I invited him in. He settled in a chair as if he'd been there all his life. The TV remote was within reach but he didn't rush to find that cartoon channel he liked.

"Can I ask you something, Steve?"

"Sure".

"You gay?"

"Well, I'm definitely merry", I replied flippantly.

His handsome brow furrowed as he tried to work out what I meant.

"Sorry, Tom", I said quickly, "Yes, I am gay or queer or whatever you want to call it".

"You have .. like .. a .. steady boyfriend?"

"No".

"But you're a good-looking dude".

"Thanks!" I smiled at him. "It's been years since I last had sex with a man".

There was a long silence.

"When you did it", Tom asked, "Were you the man or the woman"?

"Uh, the passive role".

"The woman?"

"Well, if you want to put it like that, yes, the woman". I tried to seize the initiative. "What about you?"

Tom colored. "I've done it with a girl a couple of times but when I was shooting my seed it was your face that came into my mind".

"I see".

"I was wondering if you'd let me make love to you? No kissing or sucking". He pulled a face. "Just up your behind".

My hand gripped his and I took him through to the bedroom. We undressed. His impressive penis stuck out like a broom handle. He allowed me to slip a lubricated condom over it. I knelt on the bed. A warm hand touched and then explored my mounds.

"You've got a boy's behind. A NAUGHTY boy's behind". His hand smacked by orbs affectionately. Then I felt the stiff cock against my puckered hole. I relaxed and actually pushed back until the mushroom-shaped head was inside. He did not pause but rammed the full length of his pulsating shaft into my hot, tight chute.

Tom was not to know that I often pleasured myself with a vibrator. The sensation of having that living part of him lodged inside my tunnel was infinitely superior to any vibrator.

He started thrusting, slowly at first but then hard. I squeezed my sphincter around his shaft but still the relentless pounding of his thighs against my mounds continued. It was many minutes before he gave a shout and I felt his flesh swell and then deflate. He pulled out of me with a plop.

"That was awesome!" he declared.

I cleaned us both up and then suggested a shower. Tom didn't protest when I got under the spray with him.....

... A cartoon cat was chasing a mouse, closely watched by my farm boy lover.

"What time does your bus leave?"

"Uh, ten thirty".

I glanced at the clock. It was quarter to ten.

"I'll take you down to the bus depot".

We drove in silence to the less reputable part of town. I parked the car and turned the engine off.

"Keep in touch. Yeah?" I asked him.

He leaned over and kissed me full on the mouth. His tongue made it perfectly clear what he planned to do to my behind the next time we met. We untangled and he made his way towards the bus depot. Just before he disappeared from my sight, he turned and waved. I drove back home. Inside the apartment Tom's man-scent lingered in the air. I took a deep breath, no longer feeling so alone in the world.

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written by unclesteve