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I had a stroke. How severe it was, would depend on your point of view. My speech is slurred, my body is weak and my balance and coordination are way off and I now need a cane to walk. Couple that with the fact that I’d torn my rotator cuff few months prior to the stroke. Needless to say, I was not in great shape. On the bright side, there was no pain, and as strokes go I got off easy. No doubt some rehab work was required before I could take on the challenges of walking alone in the New York. Rehab was going to help me get back the strength I lost and the confidence I needed to not feel like every step I took was going to end in a fall that could side line my healthy prognosis for good.

George Wills Health Care Facility, was located on the upper west side of New York City, Manhattan. It was a turn of the century building judging from its appearance which boasted old style art deco craftsmanship. It was barely concealed by the scaffolding that supported the netting spread across the front. Inside it mirrored a hall of justice. The Asian driver hired by the hospital had been involved in a war with his GPS. He parked the wrong way on a one way street while he ran inside to check the address. I had yet to make a judgement as to where I was. I was too wrapped up in the excitement of it all. I had heard all kinds of tales about rehab facilities so naturally I was curious to see what it was all about.

Reasonably certain he had found the right address, my driver and I walked across the expansive marble lobby to a bank of elevators. I began to already form an opinion, and it wasn’t a good one.

I’ll admit that on first sight I had an intuitive feeling of being transported back in time to when 42nd Street was ruled by pimps and mobsters and this would have been their headquarters. The art deco made it classy, yet poor upkeep over the years kept it seedy at the same time. My driver, who spoke little English, managed to get me to the right floor. I was greeted by the nurse in charge, who, after a bit of paperwork, led me down the hall to what I guessed was to be my shared room for the duration of my stay. The furniture was circa early seventies and the beds were functional and comfortable. However, on first inspection the patients appeared old and frail, battling the normal challenges of age, while others seemed to be in the grip of some form of dementia. It was hard to tell who was there for rehab from those who had made this facility their final resting place. I’m sure they all had a story to tell behind those blank faces of hopelessness and some despair. I fantasized about what their stories might be, like the man in Room 101.

Yeah, I sure miss going out side when I could quietly eat my lunch overlooking the kiddies’ playground. The local playground was my hunting ground. There were several day care centers in my neighborhood and the nurses and nannies would come around daily, bringing their children here to play. I made it a point to introduce myself to them, becoming familiar with their routines. I learned which child belonged to whom. I worked tirelessly on earning their trust. Some women even came on to me, encouraging me to take hold of their precious charges while they ran to the store or something equally mundane, just to be free for a few minutes. I was glad to be of service “Yes, ma’am give your child to me.” Some say I’m a monster. I’m really a lamb, I just want to touch them, taste them, rub their precious blemish free bodies against mine. “Come here little one, touch me right here and I’ll give you a surprise”, I would say in my most calming manner. “Don’t run and for god’s sake don’t tell any one!” The monster in me would say. ” … come pull down your panties and let me touch you there…” They rarely resisted me and I loved the taste of their sex on my fingers.

I would then rush home and salivate over the origin of those smells, sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks, until I needed more. Perhaps a tender young boy, yes, they were always good with me doing what I was doing to them. As the years flew by I became a fixture there in the park, and many of the boys were familiar with me now. Boys were different. The boys soon spread the word that I was good for a blow job or so. Girls would go right to a trusting yet often skeptical (thank goodness) parent and rat me out. I talked my way out of many a tight squeeze. I eventually started to invite the some of the children over my house as I became more brash and less cautious.

My hunger was voracious. Damn this body and how time breaks us down. Suddenly I just got old and tired of collecting souvenirs. The move to The George Wills Rehab Center, was the decision of what remained of my family. My loving sister started making all my decisions and I ended up here. After she discovered my ‘souvenir’ drawer of children’s used underwear she had me sign everything over to her and then it was off to the races. I couldn’t even feel my cock anymore. Divine intervention. suadiye escort I fell into a deep funk and it was downhill from there. Sis didn’t try to help me she just stuck me in here. Now I’m in here and no one gives a damn! Thank goodness no one talked.

Jesus, I thought to myself that old guy had so many tubes connected to him I’d have bet a staff of nurses had to walk him to the john. I decided right then and there that I wasn’t going to go out like that, I was definitely going to do better, I would do all the exercises required. I would eat, sleep and do right by my body before it all caught up to me – more than it already had. I didn’t know the lifestyle of the old man lying in that bed, but I’d have bet he was up to no good.

The floor attendant showed me to my room. I wasn’t to be alone; I sized up my roommate almost instantly. A handsome black man who at first glance seemed rather sullen, wrapped up in his own world. But he had dimples, and I love a man with dimples. He also had what a certain group of people would call ‘good hair.’ It was of medium length and curly. I hoped he was ‘family,’ meaning I hoped that he was gay. He didn’t give off that gay vibe but my gaydar is often way off. I dropped my bag on the bed by the window. I didn’t really want the window bed, but I had no choice in the matter. The place looked horrible on first inspection. I wanted to bail right then and there.

I threw my stuff on the bed, and went exploring. I wanted to get familiar with my surroundings. Each ‘inmate’ looked worse than the one before him. And there were woman who were either partially or wholly disabled peeking around doors, their often toothless grins sizing me up for god knows what. The recreation room was where some of the patients gathered to socialize, to play cards, or to watch television. According to the bulletin boards, there were arts and crafts. I was sure that I would not be socializing. I thought of a scene from an old movie where the heroine was assigned to a rehab center like myself and one day she decided to sing during social hour. There among the patients she discovered an old acting colleague who could barely speak. He attempted to sing along with her but struggled painfully. It was a poignant moment in the film where the character clenched her fist, turning her head so her friend would not see the well of tears that was building up in her. Right then she just knew she would survive this.

I had no trouble finding my way back to my room. My roommate stayed behind the curtain that separated us, keeping him barely hidden from view. I’ll admit to a certain curiosity about him, his sexuality, and let’s be honest, the size of his cock, and the weight of his balls.

“It sure isn’t what I expected,” I said aside to no one in particular, not looking at my roommate directly. “I wanted to turn and run when I first got here,” he said. I was delighted at the response I got from behind the curtain.

“We have to share a bathroom. I’ve never shared a bathroom before. Never!” There was real dismay in his voice and I had the distinct feeling that this man was nobody’s camping buddy. My job would be to see if he was going to be a good roommate

“Oh I remember a situation a while back where a buddy and I once shared a bathroom at the Inn on Cherry Grove.” I said to him. We shared a bathroom with twin porn stars, we were young and the situation was very festive. There was no sex but it still managed to be loads of fun!” I said , momentarily losing myself to nostalgic thoughts. It didn’t take much to set me off.

“You haven’t seen what’s on the other side off the door. And if you do end up using the bathroom, be sure to use the lock on both doors leading to the adjoining room or the troll on the other side will open it and possibly walk right in!” said my roommate amid a series of chortles intermixed with an occasional cough. “I’ll be careful then,” I said trying to recall the decrepit man in the next room. It wasn’t pretty.

I didn’t have much in the way of luggage so I settled in quickly. I took my time getting out of my street clothes and into what turned out to be your basic run of the mill hospital gown. My ass could be seen one way and my dick was out the other way. I felt it was time to introduce myself.

My roommate introduced himself as Neil Barry who turned out to be, besides my earlier observations, an affable chap with good legs, and what hinted at a rounded butt. I was quick to glance at aforementioned butt on one of Neil’s trips to the bathroom. I was still ignorant of what lay between his legs. And those dimples, I think you know the old saying “…dimples in the chin mean the devil within.’ I was intrigued, Eventually we got to talking and he proved to be funny and easy to talk to. It seemed that I had gotten lucky in the roommate lottery.

“I think we got lucky being each others roomie. I’ve seen the others in this here mausoleum. ” I said laughingly yakacık escort and for a while we forgot why we were even here in rehab.

The next day, I woke up from a surprisingly good sleep. I was ready for anything, but I found myself eager to see Neil again. Later that afternoon, my assigned therapist had just put me through some gentle stretching but some hard lifting and I was exhausted. Since the stroke I tire easily, but

I managed to work up a fine sheen of perspiration!

While I looked like the hot jock of my younger years, the important thing was that I felt great. The physical therapist guy delivered me to my room in a wheelchair according to rehab center rules. Once out of the wheelchair I literally fell into Neil’s stationary chair which was closer to the door and just opposite Neil’s bed. Surprised by my sudden presence in his space, Neil had forgotten to pull his robe together hiding what turned out to be a rather impressive piece of manhood. Following my surprised gaze and my unintentional but audible gasp, he hurriedly moved to cover himself but thought better of it, stopped, and left his robe open, letting my eyes linger on a moment that was to be a turning point in our relationship. I wasn’t even thinking about the girl across the hall.

I have been in this hell hole for a while now. I ‘ve been autistic all my life. I had been hit by a car and both of my legs were crushed. I couldn’t tell them who done it, although the license plate was clear in my mind then. Now it’s just a fuzzy memory that I can not articulate.

I was here a week when it started. The men here are all in cahoots with each other. I can’t speak very well, my words slur and when I get excited I tended to make more animal signs than human speech. Its very frustrating for me.

My parents had agreed long before the accident that I wasn’t ever going to be ‘fit’ to mingle with our high falutin’ family and social friends, so they signed the papers each time committing me to yet another non-progressive year. Rehab was the perfect solution for keeping me out of sight. It was hard to talk to them, my parents, the ones who committed me.

Every word out of my mouth to them was a ‘rambling’. Even when I tried to tell them about the rapes. The rage I felt only magnified my inability to form a protest. From the very beginning, the night orderlies would come into my room. At first it was the touching, then came the fingering. That lasted longer, the fingering, and rough hands that twisted and probed my virgin vagina. They robbed me of my innocence. And then every other night one or two of them would push my panties aside and force themselves inside me. Some nights they were gentle other nights they were rough, dispassionate. Protesting the day after only got me sedated. I hate it here.

Neil and I talked about every thing under the sun that night. We commented non-stop on television shows and the styles actresses wore to awards shows. Neill hated his three times a week chemo treatments and I hated the fact that my legs were more rubber than muscle and bone. But we connected as two physically challenged males whom fate saw fit to put together in a connubial setting. We talked about everything. Except the one thing that might require a reckoning of sorts. When were we going to admit, to our desire for each other and finally really get it on? I wasn’t sure Neil felt like I did. The connection would be in the timing because, our own sense of safety was at stake. But tonight might be different. Maybe because of the full moon and what It does to people. Tonight was a full moon. So maybe tonight would be different. And it was.

It was the weekend and for some reason it came with a sense of urgency. The nurses had made their final run through and the facility had settled into the kind of quiet that could only be felt during the weekend when all was quiet and the place clearly operated with a skeleton crew. The door was closed to our room. We sat up in bed watching television. Pretending to be totally engrossed by whatever was on the television screen. Neither of us wanted to make the first move. We were both vulnerable now and a rejection might be more than we wanted to deal with. I’m just assuming all this about Neil. I wasn’t even sure if he was gay or not. He hadn’t said anything up till now. I just assumed, and then prayed I was right.

We kept the conversation safe and general and to a bare minimal when it came to sex, and even then the use of pronouns remained ambiguously and sparingly applied. I moved my chair closer to his bed. He still had made no move to cover himself. So I moved in closer, keeping up the conversational tone, talking nonsense about whatever was the on television. Out of the corner of my eye I was keeping watch on the prize, Neil’s cock.

My hand lingered on his thigh, just inches away from his horse sized offering. And then as if a switch had been activated I suddenly could feel şerifali escort the slightest tremor of his leg and immediately I began to share in his excitement. I could taste his passion rather than my own as I was holding my breath, waiting for him to either shift toward me or inch away from me. I got lucky, he moved toward me. His hand rested over mine as I moved up his thigh toward his hardening rod. I was inwardly jubilant; outwardly I felt emboldened but still cautious. I reached over and took firm grasp of his cock in my tight little fist. So much for caution.

“Close the door…” he said, in a hushed whisper, indicating that we should close the gap between us and the outside world. A closed door would give us some privacy as well as a moment to pull ourselves together should an aide come in. I closed the door. I turned around to see Neil lying on the bed, hospital gown untied and splayed out to his sides, leaving him stark naked, His cock was erect as a flagpole

For the next hour, Neil wasn’t riddled with cancer and I wasn’t crippled by stroke. We didn’t need to be reminded of our vulnerabilities We lost ourselves easily in each other’s sexuality at a time when we both needed the touch of another man’s hand on our bodies. We needed to bask in the sunshine of another man’s aura. When we kissed it was passionate and wet. I luxuriated in his wet kisses; neither of us wanted to pull away. It had been a long time since I had tasted the lips of another man on mine. It was ambrosia, I was too smitten to stop. I gathered the thought that this was a moment Neil was savoring as well.

I touched him all over. Touching him was what I had been longing for since I laid eyes on him. I already knew it wasn’t going to be enough. Intuitively it seemed, he knew how to give as good as he got. Especially when the exploration involved my mouth on him, exploring and biting. He leaned back and tilted his head to the side so that I had a clear shot at the throbbing veins beneath the skin of his neck. I felt like a vampire. He tilted his neck ever so slightly, granting me full access to the full effect of his beautiful swan like neck.

He moaned ever so slightly as I progressed downward, stopping only to chew on his end-of-pencil eraser like nipples. When he exhaled I inhaled. I wanted to breath the very air that he breathed. I trembled when he trembled, I moaned when he moaned. His hand rested on my head, forcing me downward, I couldn’t get up even if I tried. His touch was hot and cold at the same time. Hard to explain but easy to embrace. We lay against each other for what seemed hours. We never went too much past the touch and cuddle stage. Neither of us were prepared to take that next step yet, why blow it all on the first date? For now, the intimacy of the situation would have to suffice. I didn’t know much about Neil but I definitely wanted more. I wondered whether the guy in the adjoining room could hear us!

Man o’ man I wish I had any one of those guys in here with me. If I had met them forty years ago, I would have rocked their world. I was quite the stud muffin back then. Hell, let me loose on any one of them today and I’ll turn them out, my style, old school. Don’t need no drugs to make em see what’s right on the other side of this shared bathroom door. And just in case FYI you ask: Bathroom lock? Hell no I never lock it. I listen, I listen for when one of em is in there and I conveniently walk in on him. Hooked to this god-dammed IV I can still make the tubing stretch as far as the john. I’ll get a good long glance at em holdin’ their dick, while strokin’ my own piece. Given half the chance, I’d show them some old school strokin’ I would, just give me half the chance.

Morning had come way too soon to suit either of us, but the dawn was doing its own thing, and fast. I had to get into my own bed before the morning nurse made her rounds with our morning meds. I had fallen asleep and spent the night in Neil’s bed. After some play, we had fallen asleep in each others arms. I got up quietly, careful not to disturb Neil, and returned to my own bed. Just as the nurse swung open the door, I was pulling the sheet over my face.

Throughout the day Neil and I played the role of simple patients brought together by unfortunate circumstances, and nothing would come of it. That was not my plan, and as soon as night fell I intended to finish what we started the night before. The day was dragging. I couldn’t wait till it was lights out. Seeing him all day and not being able to touch him was making me just a bit horney, and extremely frustrated. The fates ruled against me. Neil had chemo therapy today and his reaction was headache and nausea. He was in no condition for a hot sexual encounter. I wanted to make mad passionate love to him but he needed me more to hold and comfort him. It was an easy thing to do.

“How you feelin’ man?” I inquired, hoping it wasn’t as bad as he looked. His face was ashen and he looked really tired.

“Not feelin’ that good, but that isn’t so unusual.” He lay his head down on pillows and closed his eyes. I wanted to care for him. He looked helpless now, but I’d bet he could be fierce on a good day. This wasn’t going to be one of those days.

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