Male Nurse in the Caribbean

It was a regular checkup at the cardiac unit at the main hospital on this Caribbean island where I was living. I had stripped to my underpants and put on a white gown in preparation for some sort of test where they stuck electrodes to my chest and a machine sent little charges through me. I don't know what, exactly. That's the hospital's job. In this case the job of a male nurse. He was average height, black skinned and overweight, with his head shaven. A standard young man in that community. And he was wearing a white uniform of a sort of smock and thin, shapeless trousers. At least they were supposed to be shapeless. With him being overweight, the undulations of his body were visible as white hills and valleys. As I lay obediently on my back, he attached electrodes and leaned over me to reach. Then it happened: I felt the bulge of his cock and balls against my arm. I didn't know if this was accidental - it probably was, but then again he was a professional and should have been able to control what he touched and with which part of himself.

I lay there electrified, hoping he would do it again. He stood close to me and looked at the screen. His package was an inch away from me. If I moved to get comfortable, let's say, I could create contact. Nothing overt, nothing to alarm him if he wasn't that way inclined. I was a respectable member of the community and didn't want to jeopardise that. But at that moment what I wanted most in the world was to feel his cock and balls against me.

I lifted myself and moved up a little, then settled back down and as I did, I felt the soft, cool bulk of his salami and plums against my upper arm. He didn't flinch. Nor did I. We were fixed together by gravity, physiology or whatever, and it was the most exciting contact I had ever had outside a bedroom.

I watched the door in case one of his colleagues came in, and at the same time I moved my shoulder a little, so it rubbed against his bulge. Again, he didn't flinch and I imagined he might have even made a movement himself to acknowledge my own and convey that it had been well received.

Suddenly my mind was racing, as was my heart, which wouldn't look good on the machine. A crazy thought flew into my mind. I could quickly pull his trousers down and kiss his bits and suck him. but then the door did open and the specialist entered. But she only picked up a file and left again. The nurse and I had parted an inch or two, but as the door closed we both resumed our positions, my arm against his penis and testicles.

The test was soon over and I was sitting in front of the cardiologist as she looked at the results and chatted in her friendly way. The nurse came in and walked behind her, bent over to reach something and in doing so revealed the contours of his buttocks and the outline of his underpants.

As I left, he was standing talking to the receptionist and I calmly put a "creative writing" business card on the desk in front of him. He nodded casually and said thank you.

It was only three hours before I got his message, but it seemed much longer. I was afraid I had misunderstood his reactions during the appointment, afraid that even if I had been correct, he would change has mind, afraid the receptionist would interrogate him about why I had given him my card. But in addition to these fears, I was afraid I wasn't going to get the opportunity to get together with him. There was something about him that charmed me, reduced me to jelly. I was accustomed to feeling acute lust for a man, but had never wanted to just cuddle up with one.

'Carl,' the message said. 'From the hospital. You want to meet?'

'I do,' I replied. 'My house tonight?' I gave him the address and waited impatiently or 8 o'clock. He arrived on time, wearing track suit bottoms and a t-shirt.

As soon as he walked in we were in a clinch, my hands roaming his body, feeling the soft warm bulk and coming to rest on his bulge, which was hardening nicely. We didn't talk much, didn't explain or clarify. The fact that we couldn't keep our hands off each other did all the talking. Eventually he pulled back.

"Something I should tell you," he said. "I have never been with a guy."

This surprised me, to the extent that I gave a little cough.

"Well, you could have fooled me," I said quietly. "So why did you message me?"

"Cos I feel something when I'm around you," he said. "Hard to explain. When you touched me with your arm, it was an accident I know, but it made me want to touch you back." So he hadn't done it deliberately, or at least he wanted me to think that.

"It was an innocent little touch," I said. "But it had that effect on me too. So you've never thought about being with a man?"

"Thought about it, sure," he said. "You remind me of a friend of my Dad's, a Dutch osteopath. I used to think about him."

"About what to do with him?" I asked.

"Oh, all sorts of stuff," Carl replied. "Do you think we can... instead of talking."

I led him to the bedroom, laid him on the bed and pulled his clothes off. His body was even more beautiful naked than I had imagined. He was fat, no doubt about it; more than just fleshy and not really muscular, but big and cuddly. I wrenched my clothes off and began to enjoy him. I sucked his big, fleshy cock. It was hard inside but upholstered so I could squeeze it and feel the difference as the fat gave way to the hard blood of the core. The shaft was dark and sumptuous like fine leather. The head was pink and pristine. I licked it and sucked it and kissed it, and he stroked my head and neck.

"You're a nice guy," he said softly. "Not at all like most of the expats."

"You're very kind," I replied, moving down to smell his scrotum and lick it, then suck the skin. He was absolutely edible. I licked his crotch. I wanted him to like me, to keep liking me even as lust overtook us and changed the tone of our exchanges.

"One thing I daydreamed about with Wil. I thought about him licking my ass," he said. "Is that okay?"

"I would love to lick your ass," I said, as he shuffled his back down and pulled his legs up to expose his beautiful dark crack with its crinkled bullseye. I put my face in his ass and licked his hole.

"Oh fuck yeah," he said in a whisper so the world wouldn't know how much he enjoyed this unspeakable delight. "Yes. Lick my ass. I love that."

I licked him for a full five minutes and we both loved it. I enjoyed the smell of him, the taste of him, the feel of him and I was thrilled by the fact that he was this ordinary young man with whom I had an uncanny attraction.

After a while he pulled me back up and we kissed, he lying on top of me with his thigh between mine. He took my cock in his hand and stroked it.

"God, all the times I thought about what I was going to do with Wil," he said. "In my mind he taught me everything."

As if by prior arrangement, we had moved into a 69, him on top, and I was loving the feeling of his soft, smooth skin and the depth of his flesh. My nose was buried in his pubic triangle as I sucked him and his body pressed down with gravity. He was sucking me experimentally, finding different permutations of tongue, cock and cheek. His hands played with my balls.

"How are we going to cum?" he asked.

"Good question," I replied, "Because cumming is what we want but it will also be the end of it for now. Let me lick your ass again. On your knees." He got into position and gave a little giggle.

"I can't believe what I'm doing," he said.

"Kneeling on a bed naked, so an older man can lick your asshole?" I replied.

"Exactly," he said happily. "A white man."

"Wouldn't your ancestors have approved of you making a white man lick your ass?"

"Probably," he said. "But they would have been making a point, forcing a white man to do something he didn't want to. But I'm here with my white man and we're equal partners and he's going to lick my ass because he wants to, because it turns him on."

Carl stopped talking and propped himself upon his elbow to look at me.

"Have you had that much?" he asked seriously. "Black guys wanting to dominate you just because they can, to get revenge for the past?"

"Now and then," I admitted. "But if it goes too much that way I get rid of them. There is a lot to be said for being fucked by a determined man, but I don't want to be punished."

"You really like being fucked?" he asked.

"I love it," I said, still slightly surprised to hear myself say it.

"Well, you licking my ass is too good to stop now," he said with a smile. "But how about if we cum in each other's mouth and maybe we can fuck another time?" He was so calm and rational about the whole thing, as if he was very experienced, and yet he professed not to be. Maybe he had just discovered his life's purpose and I had discovered mine: I had been put here to lick this beautiful, smooth young black man's ass and he had been put here to let me.

So I went back to it, my new favourite thing, licking this man's ass. And the more I did it, the more I liked it. It wasn't a sordid thing, it wasn't dirty, it was a beautiful thing to do to someone you like. I wanted photographs of myself doing this with Carl. I wanted a video that I could watch to rev myself up when he wasn't there.

However, we both needed to cum, so we arranged ourselves in a 69 and masturbated each other. Both being so close to our climax, timing was not a problem. Almost as soon as we started, we were both pulsing with orgasm. I loved the release of cumming in his mouth, that little undefined place behind my balls sort of stunned after doing its bit to propel my spunk up my cock and into wherever it was headed. In return, I received his precious semen gratefully and with something like pride. I loved the way his virile young body pumped his stuff into my mouth and I could feel him sucking as much as he could out of my helpless, spent cock.

Carl and I cuddled together in the afterglow and I felt very much at peace with the world.