Ode to a Good Friend

by Evelyn Floyd

With shaking hands, he pulled his hospital gown to one side, baring himself to me, his eyes pleading in that desperate way that only the old and infirm could achieve. I looked down at him, lying there, his gown pulled away from his groin and I considered his request. It wasn't that I was disgusted by what I saw. He couldn't help that he was old, I was sure he hadn't wanted to be. He stared up at me, and I bent down, asking him if he was sure. He nodded, and I told him, "Sure, sure, I'll do it, you just relax and take it easy, okay?" He smiled briefly and lay back again, closing his eyes. I watched as his chest rose and fell with his labored breathing before turning to the task at hand.

He been quite handsome once, I'd seen the photos of him as a young man. But now he was old and time had taken its toll on his body. His mind was still sharp, and that was a shame. It was a terrible thing that a man's mind could remain sharp and clever all the way to the end, but his body failed at some point, betraying its owner. I knew that he would die soon, and then that fun loving attitude he shared with me would be gone. He had given me a lot of laughs and we'd shared many good times over the years, so doing this one little thing would be a sort of payback for me. He'd been a good friend, and I felt as if I owed him a lot more than I had ever given him in return. I'll also admit that I'd fantasized about this once or twice before, but I'd never had the guts to initiate this sort of contact.

I wondered why he had waited until now to ask; surely I'd given him enough subtle clues about my attraction towards him. Maybe he hadn't picked up on them, or hadn't felt comfortable about it. There was no way to tell, it could have been any number of things. Now I would get the chance I'd wanted, but it was a pity that it was so late in his life.

I bent down and touched his penis; finding it warm in my hand. The grey pubic hair surrounding it was sparse, and I guessed that at one time it had been thick and dark, just as the hair on his head had once been. Now he was old, and time stole many things from a man, and among those things, dignity was one of the hardest to lose. I moved my hand around the wrinkled thing, slipping my fingers down to caress his heavy scrotum. He had the biggest balls of any man I'd seen, and I wondered if that was from age, or if he'd always been like that. I slipped my other hand under them, cupping them in my fingers and his penis began to stir.

The old wrinkled thing stiffened and I heard him gasp as he began to become erect, the organ in my fist starting to sport an erection. Once he was hard, his skin was smooth and taut, like it must have been back when he was young. I'd seen bigger ones, but it really wasn't a contest. He needed to be loved in a carnal way and I was making that happen for him. Who knew whether it would be his last time or not. I held onto him and stroked his stiffness, finding pleasure in the act. It was always a thrill to handle another man's stiff organ, it was one I was always fantasizing about, and I had enjoyed it the few times I had actually gotten to do it with other men. Now I had the man I called my best friend in my fist, and I was determined to give him a moment in time he would never forget.

His member was thick and hard in my fist, and I worked it like I would my own, feeling the heat radiate from it with every stroke. I licked my lips, wondering if he would be amiable to having me suck him. I had no qualms about it; sucking another man's member was something I liked to do. I didn't see it as demeaning or degrading at all. It was pleasant to the recipient, and it gave me pleasure, too. I bent down, opened my mouth and pushed him past my lips. His girth was surprising, and soon his tip lay heavy on the back of my tongue. I felt a fluttering sensation on my scalp. It was his hand, but he wasn't pushing me away. He was stroking my head in an affectionate manner. I applied suction to his member and felt his body quiver under me. That big thick cock tasted like every other cock I'd known, and I felt mine stiffen in my pants. His breathing quickened and I worked my tongue all around the member in my mouth, eager to make him feel as good as I could give.

He was moaning now, and I knew he was drawing close. I redoubled my efforts, taking him deeper until the swollen tip on the end of his turgid shaft was near the opening of my throat. He was probably too thick to take all the way, but I wanted to try. His fingers caressed my scalp as I thrust my head forward to take more of him into my mouth.

When he came, it was on an inward stroke. I felt his semen trickle out, oozing to fill the back of my mouth and some of it slid into my throat, making me gag a little. I pulled him out of my mouth, squeezing his shaft tightly in my fist and swallowed what he'd given me, then I put his engorged tip back in. My other hand rubbed his scrotum, which was up around the base of his cock now, and I licked at the frenulum on the underside of his penis intently. I heard him groan hoarsely and he spilled another load, smaller this time, into my mouth. My tongue was coated with it, and I squeezed my mouth around his tip a little tighter as I slid my hand from his base to my chin, milking the last of his fluid out of his organ.

I pulled back, straightening up, letting his now limp organ lay on his belly, and I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. It wasn't bad at all; I had expected that sucking an old man might be less sexy than sucking one closer to my own age or even younger, but it was about the same. I moved off his bed, and waited for him to open his eyes. When he did, he motioned for me to put my head close to his face. I did so, and heard him whisper with dry, papery lips, "Thanks." I leaned back and smiled, replying, "No thanks needed, I enjoyed it and you made a dream come true for me. I should be the one thanking you." He said nothing, but there was a smile on his face that warmed my heart.

There was nothing more to say and the nurses would be coming back soon to chase me out, since visiting hours were now over. I told him to get better and that we would go fishing when he was healthy. I don't think he heard me because his eyes were closed and his breathing was deep and regular. I looked at the impersonal beeping machines that were hooked up to him, and the numbers all seemed to be normal for someone who was asleep. I wished him a good night, gathered up my coat and hat, and left him in peace. As I walked down the long echoing corridors of the hospital, I smiled, because I had a secret that only he and I shared. It had been actually quite nice, and I had enjoyed doing it. I had meant what I said, it was me that should be thanking him for the opportunity to give him a little pleasure at this point of his life. As I stepped out of the hospital doors, the cold winter wind took my breath away. It was bitter outside, but I had a warm feeling in my heart to comfort me.

The next morning I got a call from the hospital. He had passed in his sleep last night, and they guessed it was around four AM. The nurse had found him when the alarms went off, and they did as he had requested, they just let him go. He was a DNR. They finally treated him with the dignity he deserved. Not that they treated him poorly when he was alive, it's just that medical care could be so invasive and undignified when one lay dying of old age.

I had a good supply of memories of our decades long friendship, and I felt pleased that I had given him something to make leaving this world a little easier. I could only be so lucky when my own time came.

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