St. Patric's Day Shower

It was quite hot for St. Patrick's Day. I have learned through the years to be always on the alert for opportunity and often it comes when one least expects it.

Nothing pleases me more that to "happen" on a heterosexual young man who has rendered himself unconscious by alcohol. So much the better if he is somewhat homophobic, not that I consider myself gay as I am married with children. That distaste and perhaps fear of male physical contact and the raw physicality to prevent it just charges the air. Then when his prowess has rendered itself helpless it creates a unique sexual energy..

Somehow there is something much more virgin about a lad that is just drunk and not also on drugs, unless it is a first time mistake or experiment. The freewill, if unwitting, surrender of a jock that drinks gets me going every time. On this particular St. Patrick's Day afternoon, it was a Friday I believe, I had just left an appointment. Dressed as I usually am in the city, in a suit and tie, helps to give me a certain look of authority which often works in my favor.

Walking on a side street what did I see but half a dozen young men coming out the back door of an Irish Pub. There was excited conversation as they were trying to keep one of their mates on a hand truck. My mind immediately said "What have we here?!" Clearly these were teammates that had needed little excuse to celebrate and the inexperience of this one had pushed him right over the edge, little suspecting that it would be right into my hands! As they would try to tip the hand truck back, his arms would fall off to the ground and none of them was in sufficient control to figure out what to do.

Enter "Doc" with a very clear idea of what to do! Excuse me, what seems to be the problem here, may I help? They went on to explain how their friend had a bit too much St. Patrick's cheer and they were trying to get him back to the Catholic school down the block where they thought they could bring him around with a cold shower.

He had a wind breaker on so I saw that this could be used nicely as both straight jacket and a cover for me. Here I said let's tie his arms in with this. I've found that showing trust and authority both work to gain the same. Here hold my briefcase, would you and we'll get your friend here ready to travel. Then I held "Brian" up against my chest with an arm around his back under his jacket while with the other arm I striped the jacket down his arms. Did I mind that his saliva was running down the corner of his mouth and dripping on my shirt? Not in the least I was grinding his crotch into my leg.

Then leaning Brian back against the handcart I took the jacket putting it backwards over his stomach and used the arms of the jacket to tie his body, with his arms at his sides, behind the metal bars. With him now secured and the back of his jacket creating a skirt over the middle of his body we were ready. I turned his head to the side, explaining to his friends that we didn't want him to aspirate vomit and helping to hold his weight against the cart with my hand under the jacket against his abdomen, I directed them to proceed, but slowly so as to not make him sick. Not wanting any of them (read me) to get in trouble I asked several of them to watch out for anyone in authority so that we might avoid them.

The combination of them all having a had several drinks, and being distracted watching for anyone that might interfere, left me free to explore. Holding his chest back with my left hand as I walked sideways, I unbuttoned the lower buttons of Brian's shirt, under cover of the jacket, pulling it free from his cords. Then I loosened his belt leaving it through the buckle and retaining loop, but with the tongue free from any holes so that it was free to move. Reaching under his T-shirt, I was in ecstasy rubbing his smooth abdomen and slowly working my way under first the waistband of his cords and then the elastic of his shorts. Slowly and gently, but steadily exploring more of this unconscious young man.

The entire time I was watching Brian's face and eyes in particular for any reaction or response while keeping his teammates in my peripheral vision. My fingertips were just starting to enjoy and absorb the feel of the wispy curls of his pubic hair. Brushing through these I reached the base of his flaccid penis. If he, if his friends only knew what a gift I had been given by St. Patrick this day!

One of his friends started to heave and we moved over to a small alley. Help your friend, I said, I have Brian. Between the watch guards and the one that had been pushing the cart helping his puking friend, no one was paying any attention to Brian and me. After a good grope of his groin though his cords I seized this opportunity to unbutton the waist and work down his zipper. Is there any feel quite like the warmth that exudes through the snug pouch of white cotton briefs? His belt was still looped and helped to keep his cords from falling all the way down.

Not knowing what might yet be to come and wanting to maximize my present opportunity, I pulled out my knife with the small pair of scissors. Carefully, I clipped a good hunk of pubic hair. Getting out a restaurant wooden match box, I protected the curly locks for later enjoyment. There is something about rolling pubic hair between one's fingers, even years later, that is like a talisman of DNA that brings back the person, their violation, humiliation, time is transfixed.

Alas this was before the days of small digital cameras. Well, we're on the move again. The street door of the school was unlocked, but the gym and locker room was locked. One of the guys went in search of someone with a key. The others drifted and this gave me my second opportunity with Brian alone. He was still without a clue and I reached deep in his pouch down between his legs and lifted his package soaking in all that I could of his orbs. If only I could have taken him away somewhere. Not that I'm greedy, I was enjoying what I had, trust me.

After what was probably no more than five minutes time they returned with the janitor who unlocked the door. He was laughing at their predicament and remembering his own younger days.

Once in the locker room we lowered Brian onto his back. One of them said let's get him in the shower. I unbuttoned his shirt and held him up while one of them removed his shirt and pulled his T-shirt over his head. One of his other friends had started removing his shoes and socks. I completely pulled his belt free and his slacks were off in no time. There he was for the first time laid bare in just his white briefs for view. What a sight. Let's freeze this moment in time as well.

One of his friends reached for the waistband of his underwear and said "I can't do this!" Not having that problem, without delay I reached over and helped them out by pulling them right down and off and threw them on the wooden bench against the wall. And there he was in all of his glory.

His friends largely supporting him now, he was still total dead weight. I followed with a hand under his one armpit as we entered the shower room. Someone turned the one shower on cold and we moved him under the spray. It was still several minutes before he started to come around. None of them were too focused other than to keep Brian from falling. One was slapping him on the back one even slapped his butt trying to bring him around. Having chosen my position, you can guess where my attention was.

Realizing that I had but minutes left, I started to pull out a few pubic hairs at a time. I like to think that it is that which finally brought him around although it was at least the fifth or sixth time that I pulled a few hairs before he cried "ouch."

My time had come. I wished them well, they thanked me for my help and on my way out I scooped up the white underwear as another souvenir. This is but only one of many gifts from St. Patrick, but most of them have been late at night. None have been sweeter or more unexpected.

OTHER ST. PATRICK DAY STORIES TO COME!