This is a true story as best I can remember it. It took place over 10 years ago but is still very fresh in my mind. Shortly after my 55th birthday in the mid-1990s I found myself in the hospital for the first time in my adult life. I had pneumonia and was very sick. I spent 5 days in the hospital which in this day of insurance-driven outpatient surgeries and drive-thru baby deliveries should give you an idea of how sick I must have been. My live-in lady friend and I are social nudists. We had joined a nudist club a few years earlier and enjoy the lifestyle. Almost every year there is a nude cruise in the Caribbean on a major cruise ship with nudists from all over the country and we went on our first such cruise shortly before my hospitalization. There were nearly a thousand nudists on the ship and full nudity was allowed everyplace but the formal dining room and at all times except when the ship was in port. We have now been on four nude cruises and the one problem that always exists is uneven air-conditioning with some parts of the ship being uncomfortably cold when nude.
Since this was our first nude cruise I was bound and determined to be nude everyplace no matter how cold I got. I also wanted to get the most out of the cruise I could so every evening we went to the entertainment, went dancing, etc etc. The entertainment and dancing venues particularly were quite cold but I stubbornly insisted on being nude through everything, goose bumps notwithstanding. I also was burning the candle at both ends and getting little sleep. It was a great vacation and I was having a great time day and night including a wide variety of sexual activities with my lady friend but I failed to take into account the fact that I was no longer young and I wound up pushing myself beyond the limit. All went well until the last day of the cruise when I got sick. I thought it was just a cold but as the day progressed I started running a fever and felt downright rotten. I couldn’t eat dinner and went to bed early and had chills and fever alternating with sweats all night. By now I realized this wasn’t a cold; I suspected flu and figured if I took it easy I’d be OK in a couple of days. We got off the ship in Tampa the next morning and went to an airport hotel since it was too late for the only decent flight home. I continued to worsen; I couldn’t have made it without my lady friend. We went to the airport the next morning. She very sensibly told me I had to try to look and act OK; she was afraid if the airline figured out how sick I was they wouldn’t let me board the plane. The flight home was weird; it was only about four hours but it seemed like days. I was wrapped in blankets and floated in and out of consciousness. We finally got home and I hit the bed, insisting that I’d be fine with a couple of days of bed rest. My lady friend wanted badly to take me to the doctor but like an idiot I refused. Even the cat knew I was very sick; she curled up in bed beside me which is something she normally would never do.
Finally on the morning of the second day home my lady friend came in with a thermometer (oral, unfortunately) and took my temperature. She looked at it, then took it over to the window and looked again and announced “You’re going to the doctor”. I protested and she said if I wouldn’t let her take me to the doctor she was going to call the paramedics and have them haul me out of there. She wouldn’t tell me what the thermometer read, I found out later it was nearly 104 degrees Fahrenheit. So she called and got me in to my regular doctor right away (she must have told them I was dying which may not have been too far off the mark). I normally have little use for doctors but I kind of liked this one; I had seen him for a full physical and some prostate problems a few months before. The nurse took my temp, the doc came in to the little room and listened to my chest with the stethoscope and said “You’re going to the hospital”. I protested and he said I had a bad case of pneumonia and I was badly dehydrated and I needed to be on IV’s both for hydration and delivery of antibiotics. Like a total stupid idiot I insisted I wasn’t going but my lady friend and the doctor finally got through to me. On to the hospital. My lady friend helped me undress and put on the ridiculous open-back hospital gown. I knew very little about hospitals other than that they were to be avoided like the plague. I had had a very bad early childhood experience in one and had managed to avoid them ever since. By the morning of the next day I had noticed some things: there were a number of different staff members of different levels and job descriptions coming through. Most were grumpy and unfriendly though in their defense I could see the place was badly understaffed and these people were hassled, stressed and overworked. I thought “Welcome to the world of the insurance-squeezed American for-profit hospital”. There was one staff member that was an exception. I’m not sure I ever got her name but if I did I’ve forgotten it; I’ll call her Carol.
She was blond and attractive, maybe 35, no more than 40 but she had a pleasant sunny personality and made time to be nice and friendly and talk to patients. I don’t think she was a nurse; she didn’t give medications that I could see, she seemed to be more involved in making patients comfortable, bringing trays, getting water, seeing if you needed anything etc. Maybe she was a nurses’ aide or something; I’m not clear on the hierarchy and job descriptions in the hospital environment. About the third time she stopped to talk with me she said “I’d like you to take a shower”. Now God knows I needed one in the worst way; I hadn’t had one for at least five days during which time I had sweat gallons in between chills and fever. Not only that but there was another problem: Normally I am fastidious about wiping after a bowel movement but I had been so sick that I nearly passed out on the toilet and I had given the wiping short shrift. When I removed my underwear to put on the gown the under shorts were so bad I had thrown them in the trash. They could probably smell me halfway down the hall. The problem about taking a shower was I was having a hard enough time just getting to the bathroom and back. I almost passed out several times over the past few days just doing that. I told Carol “I’m sorry, I’m just not up to it; I’m afraid I’ll pass out in the shower”. She then said, “Well, would you let me give you a bed bath?”. I said “OK, sure”. She then indicated she didn’t have time right then but she would return when she had a break and give me a bed bath. Well, that gave me something to think about over the next few hours. Even though I was very sick my mind was functioning more or less normally. I thought about what it was going to be like, would she wash my genitals, etc etc. From what I could recall reading and hearing about bed baths I wasn’t too optimistic. My first wife had been a nurse and the impression I had was that most nurses were loath to wash the genitals and would do everything else and then hand the cloth to the patient and ask him to “finish the bath”. If the patient was unable the nurse might do it but in the most perfunctory way. I had also heard that nurses especially disliked it if the patient got an erection. So I was trying not to get my hopes up but as things turned out the bed bath I got exceeded my wildest dreams. Carol returned a few hours later with a cart with bowls of hot water, soap, towels, washcloths etc. I think she was either on her lunch break or at the end of her shift because she seemed to have plenty of time; there was no feeling of being rushed.
She drew the curtain around my bed and asked if I had ever had a bed bath before. I said no, and she began to try to explain the procedure. She said she would try to protect my modesty and that most people become embarrassed but that it’s necessary to be thorough, yada yada. I could see that she was a little uptight and nervous so I tried to defuse the situation. I told her she didn’t have to worry about my modesty and that I would not be embarrassed in the least by anything she might do because I was a nudist, active in a nudist club and had just come off a cruise ship with a thousand naked people for a week. I explained that nudists believe there is nothing bad or dirty or shameful about any of the body parts or about the normal body functions. This had quite an effect on her. She immediately visibly relaxed and smiled and said something to the effect that she was so glad to hear that and it would make everything so much easier, etc. She told me that it was really a problem with some men and that young men particularly were a big problem whenever it was necessary to do anything involving their genitals, etc. Carol really opened up and was very friendly. She seemed interested in nudism, the club, the cruise, etc. I even gave her contact info for the club in case she wanted to try it. Anyway, there was now a whole different atmosphere as she began the bed bath. It was almost like we were old friends. But what followed was I think truly remarkable. First Carol pulled the gown down to my waist and dabbed around my chest and stomach a bit and quickly dried it off. It was so perfunctory I thought the whole thing was going to be a joke. But then she said something to the effect that normally they try to drape the body to protect modesty but in my case that wouldn’t be necessary which would make everything much easier. She covered up my chest etc and pulled up the bottom of the gown to my waist and put a blanket over my legs so I wouldn’t get cold. I was exposed from navel to lower thighs. She washed my abdomen right down into the pubic area with heavy attention to my thick long pubic hair. And then without further ado she took my penis into her hand and began washing it with the cloth in her other hand. She was gentle but she kept pulling it, squeezing it, twisting it etc. She was looking it over very thoroughly and carefully and repeatedly washing its different parts, head, frenulum, shaft, base etc. I thought to myself that if I wasn’t so sick I would have a class A erection by now and if she kept this up very long I would have orgasm and ejaculate all over her hands. But I was so sick I never got a real erection, just some degree of swelling, enough for her to notice probably. Incredibly, she kept on washing my penis far beyond anything reasonable or necessary. I was propped up against pillows and I had been watching what she was doing but then I looked up at her face and I thought, My God! She is getting turned on! I had noticed her complexion was quite pale as is the case with many blondes.
But now her face was obviously flushed! Her eyes were dilated and glassy and she was breathing in quick short shallow breaths! I could hardly believe it but the evidence for a high level of sexual arousal was indisputable. I couldn’t help but think about how she must have pussy juice running down her legs; I tried to detect any odor but didn’t, probably because my nose wasn’t working right with my sickness. I was then staring at her face but she never noticed because she was staring at my penis and so very intent on what she was doing (giving me the cleanest penis in North America, I guess). It was like she was so overcome with lust that her common sense was left behind! I didn’t know that ever happened to women, I always thought that was a typical guy thing (not that I had ever let sexual feelings overcome common sense…cough cough). She must have kept this penis washing/handling/massaging up for a full three or four minutes at least. Then I guess she finally thought it was clean enough and she moved on. She spread my legs apart more and washed farther down into the groin area. She then began to very gently hold and wash my scrotum. She was again way overly diligent; she felt and fondled each testicle repeatedly but she never hurt me at all; she was very gentle and careful. She was still totally focused on her work, still obviously aroused. Finally she finished that; then she looked and acted a little flustered, maybe realizing she had gotten carried away. She then asked me if there was anyplace else I would like her to go over or something to that effect. I said “Yes, could you go over the perianal area?”. I explained that I had been so sick that I had not been able to wipe properly and apologized for the fact it was probably going to pretty bad. She said she’d be glad to do that and not to feel bad about its being dirty, etc. So she had me lie on my left side and pull my right knee up to provide access. She lifted my right buttock and inspected the area and gave me what seemed like an overly detailed analysis: She said she was going to try to be careful but that I might have some discomfort because, in her exact words, “There are little balls of fecal matter stuck to the hairs around your anus and you may feel some pulling on your hairs”. She said she would try to soften the adhered fecal matter first so it would come off easier. So she made just as big a deal of this area as she had the others (not that I am complaining). After she got the perineum and anal hairs cleaned to her satisfaction she informed me that my anus was, in her words, “caked up” and she would have to take care of that.
There then followed a lengthy and very very thorough washing and massaging of my anus. After the exterior was finished she told me she needed to go up into the anal passage a short way to clean that. She used a thin soft cloth on her finger and very gently and slowly worked it in at least an inch with much twisting and massaging. Even in my sick condition it felt very, very good. Finally it came to an end and she packed her stuff up. I thanked her profusely and would have liked to talk with her more but at that point she was in a hurry to leave. Maybe she was embarrassed at getting carried away, maybe she had other work to do. I don’t know. It also occurred to me that Carol was probably headed to the bathroom to clean up between her legs and maybe to relieve some of the obvious tension that had built up. Afterward I suddenly realized that 98% of the time was spent on my genitals, perineum and anus and that most of my body was never washed. In particular, she never washed my feet or under my arms so I still smelled nearly as bad as before. Not that I am complaining. I was in the hospital four more days but I never saw Carol again. Maybe she didn’t normally work on that floor and was just sent over to help out, I don’t know. I kept hoping she was going to come back again so I could get another bed bath from her. I even refrained from taking a shower after I felt better so I would have an excuse for another bed bath if she returned. I thought about what might happen if she gave me another one after I felt better and could get a really good erection. I wondered if this would turn her off or if it would further arouse her? I never got the chance to find out so I still wonder. I’m sure that what happened to me was highly unusual and exceptional and I feel very fortunate to have experienced it; it was one of the most erotic experiences of my life.