Hiking Buddy Pt. 02

Note to my readers: The response to Part One was very gratifying. Thank you to everyone who took the time and trouble to write. Here is Part Two, which had been complete but then what began as minor polishing became a major revision, delaying its submission. I hope you enjoy it as much as you did Part One.

After I got Dan settled in my apartment, he gave me his key and I collected some things from his place: a supply of clothes, his toothbrush, and a few other items he would need.

As we sat in the living room following dinner, he was uncharacteristically quiet. He seemed pensive. I asked him what was on his mind.

"Nothing special" he answered.

"It's ok if you don't want to tell me" I said, "but I can see that something is bothering you. Maybe I can help."

He seemed to be considering that, and then he said softly: "I'm ashamed of how I behaved the other day."

"What are you talking about?"

"When I broke my ankle. I cried like a baby, I whined that I was scared, I hung onto you ... I was a total wimp."

"Oh I see. You've bought into the macho thing.Me man, me beat chest, me not cry even if arm cut off.Well it's crap. Working in a hospital Emergency Room I saw big, powerful men cry when they were in a lot less pain than you were. It's nothing to be ashamed of. And you were facing your first hospital stay, not knowing what they would do to you. How could you not be scared? I'm glad you were open about how you were feeling, because what you were saying showed me how best to reassure you."

I leaned toward and looked hard at him as I concluded: "Dan, you behaved like any normal person. Do you think you should have been able to coolly say: 'This hurts rather a lot old chap, but I'm confident that all will be well'?" (That last in my best phony British accent.)

"No" he answered, chuckling, "I guess not."

"Good. And by the way, you didn't whine."

That settled the matter, and gradually he became his usual loquacious self.

We chatted and watched some television, but I noticed how drained he was. As for me, I still had not made up for my lost sleep. So I suggested that we both turn in early.

"I ought to take a shower" he said.

I pointed out that the surgeon had told him not to get the cast wet.

"Oh, right. Do you have something I can put over it, maybe plastic wrap?"

"No matter how we wrap it, some water will get through, and if that happens the cast will soften and won't provide support."

"So what should I do?"

"You don't need to do anything right now except get some sleep" I answered.

He looked around, noting for the first time that my only living room furniture was a cocktail table and the two upholstered chairs we had been sitting in. There was no couch. "I can sleep in one of these," he said, "and if I decide to stretch out I'll move to the floor. It's carpeted, so I'll be comfortable. Do you have an extra blanket, and maybe a sheet?"

"You're not sleeping in a chair or on the floor" I declared. "You're my guest, and you're also recuperating from surgery. You get the bed."

"Where willyousleep?"

"As you saw in the hospital, I have no trouble falling asleep in a chair. And those chairs weren't even upholstered."

"After all you've already done for me, you're going to give me your bed? Nothing doing."

He crossed his arms and tried to look stern.

I was reluctant to suggest what was already in my mind, but he seemed determined not to put me out of my bed. "Well," I said, "the bed is king-size. Would you like to share?"

His answer was accompanied by a broad smile: "That's a perfect solution!"

"Ok, let's go. Tomorrow I'll think about the shower problem. I'm sure I'll be able to figure something out."

We went into the bedroom, where I asked Dan what he wore overnight. He told me that he usually wore pajamas but that in view of the cast it seemed best just to wear briefs. "Unless I'm smelly."

"They gave you a bed bath in the hospital" I reminded him. "You smell fine."

Ordinarily I sleep in the raw, but I thought it likely that if I told Dan, he would feel obligated to do the same. The thought of him lying naked beside me made me nervous, so I said that I usually wore briefs.

Dan sat on the bed and took off his shirt. Then he reached down to untie the shoe on his uninjured foot, but I saw that in leaning so far forward he was putting pressure on the injured one. I stopped him and removed the shoe. "Do you sleep in your socks?" I asked. He said no, so I removed the sock too, and silently admired the well-formed foot it had covered.

Dan now stood and began undoing his belt with one hand while holding himself up with one of the crutches. I stood by at first and watched him struggle with the belt as he tried to maintain his balance.

I couldn't watch for long. I grabbed him. "Quit that" I said. "You'll fall over or end up slamming your bad foot firmly on the floor. How would you like another operation?"

The prospect of more surgery stopped him immediately. With a sheepish grin, he said: "Ok, will you help me undress?"

I had him stand on the good foot and maintain his balance by keeping his hands on my shoulders as I undid his belt, lowered his trousers, and then proceeded to his briefs.

When I pulled the briefs down, I heard a sharp intake of breath. I looked up and saw that Dan was blushing.

I had suppressed my own gasp at the sight, close up, of a stunning penis and a pair of large, plump testicles.

Ignoring my quickened pulse, I said: "Why Dan, I've just learned somethingelsenew about you: You're modest! Well think of this as if you were in a locker room."

He replied that this was different: "In a locker room, no one else undresses me."

I sat him down and finished removing his pants and his briefs. Then I pulled a fresh pair of briefs over his ankles and advanced them past the cast. Now handing him the crutch, I directed him to stand again so that I could pull them up all the way.

He stood, and I got a full view of his unclothed body.

I marveled at what I beheld! I had long ago noticed that with his clothes on, Dan was attractive. Now I saw that naked, he wasgorgeous. He was surprisingly muscular, and splendidly smooth. His skin was as clear of blemish as that of a baby, and aside from the wavy brown locks that graced his head, a light, nearly blond bush above that perfect sculpted penis, and a downy dusting on his arms, his body was free of hair. Even his legs were smooth.

I pulled up the fresh briefs and helped him get into bed.

The weather had turned very mild in the prior few weeks. I told him that at these temperatures I don't need to cover myself, but that we could use a sheet if he wanted. He said it wasn't necessary.

I stripped to my briefs and got into bed. He wanted to continue our chat but I stopped him: "We can talk tomorrow. You need sleep. You've had a rough couple of days."

He yawned before replying "Because of me, so have you."

His voice began to grow faint as he continued: "You pampered me, fought for me ... killed two days babysitting me in the hospital ... and now you've even taken me in."

He rolled onto his stomach and mumbled: "Don't know how I can ever repay you."

"Knowing that you're safe and free of pain is my repayment" I told him. "And the only rough part of the last few days for me was seeing you in such agony. It broke my heart. As to staying with you in the hospital, it didn't kill the days. They were well spent."

I audaciously put a hand on his warm back and asked: "Alright?"

He gave me a lethargic smile and mumbled: "Yeah. Thanks. ... For everything."

"Now go to sleep" I ordered, and reluctantly took my hand away.

He closed his eyes but began to talk again, though as he spoke, his voice continued to fade and his words became indistinct: "Not sure I can. Still revved up. Could you ... maybe ... give me ... someth ..."

The words trailed off and his even, deep breathing told me that he was asleep.

As I looked at Dan, I was confronted by the fact that not only did I like him, I was physically attracted. Having him sleeping next to me every night was going to be both a pleasure and a temptation; one that I would have to resist.

I watched him for a while, fighting the desire to put my hands on him, before I too fell a¬sleep.

I woke up once during the night when I thought I heard him move. I whispered: "Dan?" No response; he was sleeping soundly. In the dim light I could just discern the two shapely mounds that filled out the back of his briefs. It required all my willpower not to touch.

The next morning I woke up first. I gingerly got out of bed and after using the bathroom and showering, I sat down in a chair from where I could gaze at the handsome young man sleeping in my bed.

He awoke almost two hours later. I had dozed off in the chair a few times, but when Dan opened his eyes I was awake and watching him. He smiled and said brightly: "Hi, big brother."

I smiled back at him. "Morning little brother, who didn't think he'd be able to get to sleep last night. I'll grant that it did take all of two minutes. You know, don't you, that you conked out while you were asking me a question."

"No kidding! I really did? The last thing I remember is you saying that you felt terrible seeing me suffer. ... I really fell asleep while I was talking?"

"Yes" I answered. "In the middle of a sentence." Then I laughed. "I think you were asking me if I could give you something to help you fall asleep."

He slowly shook his head in wonder.

"You didn't move all night" I told him. "You were out cold."

"Wow" he breathed. "That's really ... strange."

"Not at all. I could see how tired you were. I thought you would go out like a light as soon as you hit the bed. Even the two minutes you lasted were more than I expected. How long do you think you slept?"

"I don't know. Nine hours?" he ventured.

"Try nearlyelevenhours".

"Wow!" he said again, even more amazed. "I guess I reallywaswiped out".

"Yup, you were" I agreed, as I rose from the chair. "It was hardly surprising, after everything you've been through these past few days. But..."

Dan suddenly broke in to ask: "How do you know I didn't move all night? Were youawakeall night?"

"No, but I'm a light sleeper. If you had moved, I would have felt it. Anyway," I continued, "you've now had a good night's rest, so if you're ready to rejoin the world of the living we'll get you dressed and I'll rustle up some breakfast."

"Thanks. What about that shower?"

"I'm still thinking about how to manage it. And before you ask: You don't stink."

"Well I may not stinkyet, but if I don't take a shower soon, I'm sure I will."

"This morning you can use a washrag. I'll do the places you can't get to. Come on."

I helped Dan into the bathroom, sat him on the closed toilet, and brought him soap, a washrag, and a towel. The sink was next to the toilet, so he had access to hot water. I told him not to hesitate to call to me when he needed help in the problem areas. "You won't be able to do your butt, because you'll need to stand for that and you'd need both hands to keep your balance."

He blushed at the thought of someone else washing his behind for him. (I was charmed by how easily he blushed.) "I think I can manage" he replied, "by keeping one hand against the wall."

Apparently he did manage, because fifteen minutes later as I was preparing our breakfast, I heard him stomping around on his crutches.

When he didn't come into the kitchen, I went to look for him. I found him in the bedroom, attempting to dress himself. "You should have called me" I said. "You know you can't do that safely on your own."

"I didn't want to bother you."

"This is part of my job" I told him as I grabbed the fresh pair of briefs he had been struggling with. "So just get used to it, because I don't want to be rushing you to the emergency room when you re-break the ankle."

As Dan had found out, he needed help dressing and undressing. So, twice a day, I got to see him naked! He blushed the first few times, as he had the first evening, but after that he got over his embarrassment.

He could manage his shirt himself, but he needed help getting in and out of his pants and his underpants. Thus I was able to feast my eyes on him in the nude as he stood before me to be dressed in the morning, and again after I had helped him out of his clothes at bedtime and was about to get him into a fresh pair of briefs.

I was in awe every time.

His best feature other than his face, was his behind. Before taking his briefs down I would spend a moment appreciating how the material hugged the fabulous cheeks and sank a little way into the cleft. Then, when I had lowered the briefs to his thighs, I would have the thrill of seeing the smooth, unblemished hemispheres without their covering.

Helping him with his clothes not only granted me the twice-daily sight of his naked body, it also provided ample opportunity to put my hands on him: While I was getting a close-up view of that exquisite bottom as I pulled the briefs up or down, I would often "clumsily" brush it with my hand. That was pleasurable but also dangerous, because those enticing globes just cried out to be fondled and kissed, and the cleft seemed to be yearning for my hand to slip inside and finger the little puckered entrance to Dan's rectum.

When I reached around to pull up the front of the briefs, I would have a chance to "carelessly" brush the heel of my hand over his balls or the crown of that seductive penis.

I avoided moving to the front in order to pull up the briefs, because whenever I looked at his tantalizing member I wanted to take it in my mouth and savor it.

Dressing and undressing Dan always caused me to have an erection. That posed no problem in the morning, since almost all young men routinely have spontaneous morning erections. Dan had them too. But I always made sure to be wearing baggy pants when I undressed him at night.

Due to the nature of Dan's fracture and the possibility of re-injury, the surgeon had insisted that he remain at home and limit his walking while the cast was on; therefore Dan was going to be spending several months essentially stranded in my apartment. I stayed with him for two days, but after that he was getting around well on the crutches and I had no doubt he would be all right without me during the day. I decided that I could return to work.

I showed him where everything was that he might need, including my books and recordings and the user guides for the TV and the sound system. I told him he was welcome to anything else he wanted, but recommended that he spend a major part of his time napping.

Each morning I would dress him, make our breakfast, and prepare a sandwich for his lunch. I would remind him that he could phone me if he needed anything, and would suggest strongly that he phone during the morning and the afternoon regardless, just to check in so that I'd know he was ok.

Hearing that I wanted him to check in several times a day, he would sigh and roll his eyes, like any little brother responding to an overprotective older sibling.

Toward the end of Dan's third day with me, I announced that I had come up with a solution to the shower problem.

What I had devised would be even more of a delight than dressing and undressing him. "There's no way we could keep the cast dry in the shower" I said, "but there's a practical alternative. With help, you could take baths."

He liked the idea of baths.

He was nervous the first time, because he was presented with a situation he hadn't anticipated: Although he had gotten over being embarrassed bymeseeinghimnaked, he looked startled whenIstripped.

I told him that he'd soon see why.

After filling the tub and making sure the water was the right temperature, I put one foot in. Then I lifted Dan in, keeping his injured foot outside the tub where the cast would be well away from the water. Finally I drew in my other foot.

Dan was visibly uncomfortable about having me standing naked next to him in the tub, so I loosened my grip to demonstrate what I already knew: Without the crutches, and with his feet awkwardly separated, he couldn't maintain his balance unless he kept both hands on the wall.

"That" I explained, "is why I'm in here with you. So I can wash any area where you need help. And I'm naked because I'm going to get as wet as you and almost as soapy."

"I see what you mean" he said. "I think I'll need your help with pretty much everything."

He was telling me that he had given up any thought of bathing himself.

And so, every few days, I got to give Dan a bath. Those were times I treasured.

I always began by shampooing his hair, luxuriating in its silky feel. Then I went over his upper body with a soapy washrag, substituting my hand whenever I could think of a credible reason. After lathering his face, neck, and cushiony shoulders, I worked slowly down his smooth chest, brushing his nipples as I continued to his flat belly, where I stopped just above his bush. Next I moved around in back, lathering downward on that muscled expanse until I reached his buttocks, where I spent as much time as possible on those marvelous cheeks. When they were covered with suds, I slid my bare hand between them and lathered the cleft.

The first time I ran a soapy finger around the rim of his wrinkled anus and briefly pushed the finger a few millimeters inside, I quickly had to think of something unpleasant in order to keep from getting a colossal erection. I decided that for subsequent baths I would wear a jock strap and swim trunks.

After cleaning Dan's behind, I moved to his front again and soaped his bush before giving thorough attention to his penis, which I stroked several times purportedly in the act of cleaning, before moving on to his superb balls and gently manipulating them, also supposedly as a cleaning measure.

Of course, he always developed an erection. He blushed and apologized the first time, but I told him that the warm water and the physical stimulation would makeanyman hard. "If our roles were reversed" I said, "I'm sure I would spike a boner even quicker thanyoudid. See, I'm getting hard justthinkingabout it." (The truth was, of course, that I was getting hard from handling Dan.)

Telling him dismissively that I considered his reaction to be of no significance dispelled his shame. When he became erect during subsequent baths, which he always did, he was not embarrassed.

After soaping the upper part of Dan's body, I washed the thigh on his uninjured leg. Then I sat him down in the tub and washed his other thigh, his legs, and his uninjured foot, cleaning carefully between the cute little toes that I would have liked to suck on, one by one.

Following that, I got to hold him against me as I raised him back to a standing position.

Taking a sprayer from its rack, I rinsed the shampoo from his hair. Then I replaced the sprayer and used the washrag to remove the lather from his body. After that, I ran my bare hand all over him, feeling for slippery spots that would indicate residual soap. I devoted special attention to the cleft between those enchanting cheeks, and the creases where his thighs met his belly, explaining that if even a small amount of soap were to remain in these sensitive, closed-off places, it would cause inflammation.

When all the lather had been removed, I lifted him out of the tub, wrapped him in a large towel, and dried him, another source of pleasure. Although he could have done most of the drying himself, he made no objection to my doing it all. And he remained hard during the entire process even though I carefully avoided providing any significant amount of stimulation to the sensitive places.