Archive-name: Samesex/adam-1.txt
Archive-author: 
Archive-title: Adam - 1


Chapter 1
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    Adam sat  in silence  on the  park bench,  idly watching the ducks
swim aimlessly  around in  circles on the surface of the muddy boating
lake. It  was quite  warm for  February, and  the sun was shining with
such intensity  that he  was forced  to screw  up his eyes against the
glare which was reflected off the water.

    What was he going to do? How could he possibly not know who he was
or where  he came from? If he knew what amnesia was (and he recognised
the word as soon as the doctor used it) how could he not know anything
about himself?  It seemed so strange... to know things you were taught
in school,  mathematical formulae  and historical  facts and  figures,
that Paris  was the  capital of  France and that Margaret Thatcher was
the Prime  Minister, and  yet not  know your  own name or even if your
parents were alive or dead!

    "I'm sorry  I can't  say something which sounds more hopeful," the
doctor had  said, less  than an  hour ago  as Adam had been discharged
from the Infirmary. "I can understand how lost you must feel, but rest
assured that  most amnesics do recover some of their memory if not all
of it."

    Adam smiled  wryly. "And  some never get their memory back at all,
correct?"

    The doctor  nodded. "I'm  afraid so,  but the  percentage is  very
small. Usually  their relatives  identify them  from the newspapers or
through the  police, and  once the patient is back in their home envi-
ronment little day to day things keep jogging their memory."

    Adam wasn't  encouraged. He'd  been in  the hospital  for  over  a
month, ever  since the  police had  found him, dazed and bloody from a
head wound,  wandering through  the streets  late one night. The media
had latched  onto his  case, and for several consecutive days his face
had been on more newspaper covers than Princess Diana's.

    But nothing  had come of it. No-one came forward to claim him, the
police drew  a complete  blank, and,  mysteriously, he  had no form of
identification on him.

    After a  couple of  weeks the  media got  another more interesting
story to keep their readers happy, and Adam's fate was quickly forgot-
ten. Depression set in. Deep, black depression. Luckily he had made at
least one  new friend  in hospital, a young male nurse called Stan who
always had a cheery word to brighten him up.

    "Come on,  sunshine," Stan  had said  one day  as he dispensed his
drugs. "Things could be a lot worse."

    Adam scowled at him. "Really? How?"

    "Well, just look at yourself. You're a good-looking young guy, and
at the risk of making you big-headed I'd even say handsome. You've got
a good  body, even if you have a cracked skull, and I'll bet you won't
be on your own for very long even if no-body turns up from your past."

    The flattery  had made  Adam feel  a bit  better, but not much. He
dreaded the  day when, inevitably, he would have to leave the hospital
and begin  to rebuild his life, but where would he start? He had spent
many sleepless  nights, just  lying in  his bed  and listening  to the
other patients  snoring, wondering  about his predicament. He had very
little money  on him when he was brought in, just a couple of ø5 notes
and a  bit of  change, no idea where he came from and no idea what his
profession was. His accent was also bland and unplaceable. At least if
he'd had  a Brummie accent he would have known he came from Birmingham
or the midlands.

    It had been Stan who had christened him 'Adam'. After long days in
his bed  he had  felt stale  and unclean,  and would have killed for a
bath. When  the doctor  arrived to  do his rounds Adam asked him if he
could have  a shower, not a poxy bed bath, something to lift his spir-
its and  make him  feel human  again. To  his surprise  the doctor had
agreed, as  long as  there was a nurse on hand in case he needed help.
Stan had been the nurse.

    There were  a couple  of small  private shower  units just off the
ward bathroom  and Stan  followed as  Adam made  his way  to  one  and
stepped inside.  Adam would have closed the door and left Stan to wait
outside, but Stan held the door open and followed him in.

    "Don't I  get any  privacy?" Adam  asked, as he undid his robe and
slipped it off.

    "Sorry," Stan  shrugged. "Doctor's  orders. Anyway you haven't got
anything I haven't already seen."

    Adam hung  his bathrobe  on a  hook and removed his pyjama jacket,
hanging that  on top of the robe. Feeling more than a little self-con-
scious, Adam untied his pyjama pants and let them fall to the floor so
that he  was naked.  He was  aware of Stan's eyes on him as he bent to
pick up his pyjama pants, and after the initial flush of embarrassment
he was  surprised to  find  being  naked  while  someone  watched  was
strangely exciting.

    He was  quite proud  of his body. He had no idea if he'd ever done
anything to  get in  such good  shape (that part of the past was miss-
ing), but  he certainly  liked the way he looked. Long legs, thick and
muscular at  the thighs,  with pert tight buttocks, tapering to a slim
waist and  flat hard stomach; broad back and powerful shoulders. Maybe
he'd at some time played sport professionally? He didn't know.

    He felt  Stan's eyes  burning into  him as he turned on the shower
and stepped  under the  hot steaming  jet. It  felt so good, the water
running over  his smooth  flawless skin, forming rivers which ran into
the curves  and hollows  of his body and seemed to wash away his prob-
lems. He  felt hot  water trickle  into the  deep cleavage of his but-
tocks, swilling over his anus and then down the inside of his legs.

    He reached for the soap and began to work up a lather. Still aware
of Stan  watching him,  Adam began to rub lather across his chest, ca-
ressing the  hard round pectoral muscles and tweaking his nipples gen-
tly. God  that felt  good! His  hands slid down over his belly, to the
dark curly  bush of pubic hair in his crotch and he buried his fingers
in the  wiry hair,  sliding his  right thumb  around the  shaft of his
large uncut cock and cupping his balls in his palm.

    As he smoothed soap along the length of his flaccid cock, his left
hand moved  around to  his behind, parting his hard buttocks, a finger
probing for  the lips of his anus. Stan shuffled his feet nervously as
he watched  Adam, but Adam was oblivious to him now. His prick was re-
acting instinctively,  swelling up to its full seven inches, the fore-
skin peeling back to reveal the throbbing silky purple head.

    Stan cleared  his throat.  "I'll just nip outside for a smoke," he
said, as he disappeared through the door. "Be back in a minute."

    Adam hardly heard. His finger had now located his anus and was in-
serted up  to the  knuckle, gently  moving in  and out  in time to the
rhythmic wanking  of his  right hand.  It felt  so good,  so alive. He
couldn't remember  ever having  wanked himself  before. Surely he must
have? It  seemed so new and exciting that he was shocked by the feroc-
ity of  his sudden  climax. His  knees buckled  and he arched his back
forward as  he came,  thick milky cum shooting in powerful spurts from
his cock,  splattering on  the tiles  of the  shower floor  and  being
washed away by the cascading water.

    By the  time Stan  reappeared Adam had finished his shower and was
standing in the cubicle towelling off, his body red from the hot water
and the rubbing.

    "So how  do I  look?" he asked, tossing his thick blonde hair back
from his forehead, his blue eyes sparkling.

    "Like Adam  in the  Garden of  Eden," Stan  grinned, admiring  the
young man's naked form.

    And that was how he got his new name. Everyone, doctors and nurses
alike, thought  it seemed somehow appropriate, as though no other name
would have  fitted the  good-looking mystery  man quite  as well. Even
Adam himself took to it, but, after all, he had nothing better.

    Eventually the  day he'd been dreading arrived, and he was uncere-
moniously discharged  from hospital, thrown out into the real world to
stand or  fall on  his own  merits. He'd  drifted around the town aim-
lessly for a while, heading no-where in particular, until he had found
himself in  the park,  sitting here  on the  hard bench  watching  the
ducks.

    "I thought  it was  you," a familiar voice said. He glanced to his
left to  find himself gazing at Stan's smiling face. "What are you do-
ing here? Taken a fancy to ducks, have you?"

    "Where else have I to go?" Adam asked, without self-pity.

    "Still no  lodgings, huh?"  Stan sighed,  seating himself  next to
Adam on  the bench.  "What about that church hostel thing the hospital
social worker told you about?"

    Adam shrugged.  "I don't  know," he  said. "I'd just rather not go
there."

    Stan stood  up. "Then  there's only  one other alternative. You'll
have to kip on my couch for a few nights until you get fixed up."

    "Won't your family mind?"

    Stan shook  his head.  "I live alone. I have a small flat, nothing
fancy, but  big enough for me." He smiled again, and Adam realised for
the first  time what  a pleasing smile Stan had. "You're quite welcome
to the couch, if you want it."

    Adam smiled back. "Thanks."

    Stan's flat  was nicer  than he'd  let on.  The lounge  carpet was
thick and  soft, and  the decor was more tasteful than Adam would have
expected from his new friend. The couch was a large 3-seater job, eas-
ily long enough to accommodate Adam's six foot frame.

    Stan spent  the rest of the afternoon settling his guest in, fuss-
ing over the young guy like a mother hen. His next shift at the hospi-
tal wasn't  until six the next morning, so they had plenty of opportu-
nity to  talk, something  they had never really been able to do on the
ward. Stan  was warm and friendly, and, Adam noticed, quite attractive
in a bland, unexciting kind of way. He had dark curly hair and equally
dark eyes, and his complexion was duskily smooth.

    The day  passed quickly.  In the  evening Stan phoned for a pizza,
which they  put away  along with  a bottle  and a  half of sweet white
wine. Adam  couldn't ever remember having had wine before, but he took
an instant liking to it and downed so much of the stuff that he became
a bit merry.

    "Come on,  mate," Stan  muttered at  just after midnight. "I think
it's time we both turned in. You've only just got out of hospital, and
I have to be up at the crack of dawn."

    He brought  a large  bundle of sheets and a couple of pillows from
the bedroom  and expertly  made up Adam's bed on the couch. "There you
go," he  said. "I've a spare toothbrush in the bathroom, the red one's
mine, so  help yourself."  Adam nodded unsteadily. The wine had really
gone to  his head.  "I'll say goodnight then," Stan said. "If you need
anything, just shout, okay?"

    "Okay," Adam replied, "'night!"

    Stan headed  for the  bedroom, glancing  back just  once to  catch
sight of  Adam wrestling  with one  of his  socks. Then  he closed the
door, undressed  quickly, and  slipped naked into his bed. It was late
and it  had been  a long  day, and to say Stan was tired was an under-
statement. He fell asleep almost the instant his head touched the pil-
low.

    He awoke  again with  a start  after what seemed just seconds. The
luminous clock on the bedside cabinet read 3.35 am. Something had bro-
ken his  sleep, some  kind of  noise loud  enough to disturb him. Stan
threw back  the covers  and clambered  out of bed, creeping across the
room and gingerly opening the door.

    The lounge  was in  darkness save for the shaft of moonlight which
was shining in through the large window. Standing in front of the win-
dow, one  hand resting  on the pane and his head leaned on the back of
his hand,  was Adam.  He was  naked, the moonlight causing his skin to
glow an eerie silver, the deep black of the shadows accentuating every
curve and  hollow of his muscular torso. He looked the epitome of sor-
row.

    Stan opened the door wider and quietly crossed the lounge to where
his friend  was standing. He placed his right hand on Adam's shoulder.
"What's wrong?" he asked tenderly.

    Without looking up Adam spoke. "I just feel so lonely," he said.

    Stan squeezed  his shoulder  in a gesture of affection. "You don't
have to be lonely," he said. "I'm here."

    Adam looked up, and in the moonlight Stan thought he saw the glint
of an  odd tear.  "Hold me," Adam said, turning towards Stan and slip-
ping his strong arms around Stan's waist.

    It was  at that  moment that  Stan became aware of his own nudity.
Their bodies  touched, Adam's  large muscular  thigh brushing  against
Stan's leg.  Like a child, Adam laid his head on Stan's shoulder, nuz-
zling his  face against  the nurse's  neck. His  breath was  warm  and
moist.

    Stan pulled him closer, until their stomachs lay flat together. He
could feel  Adam's hard  nipples against  his chest,  and lower,  much
lower, he  could feel the hot softness of Adam's large and magnificent
cock pressing into his own pubic bush. As he held the guy, he wondered
if Adam  even knew or cared that he was getting an erection, his prick
throbbing and pushing against the soft fluttery skin of Adam's belly.

    Stan let his hand slide slowly down Adam's back, his fingers glid-
ing over  the smooth  flesh. His  first finger traced a line along the
furrow caused  by Adam's  spine, and  Adam flinched  just a shade, his
hips jutting forward so that their cocks rubbed together. Stan allowed
his hand  to continue  on its  downward path  until it  came  to  rest
lightly on Adam's tight hard buttocks.

    Pressed together,  Stan could  feel that Adam was beginning to re-
spond. The  huge prick  was growing bigger, swelling to its full size,
throbbing against  Stan's thigh.  Encouraged, Stan  slid his hand into
the cleavage  of Adam's  buttocks, his  fingers exploring,  searching,
then finding  the rough  tight lips  of Adam's  anus, which he stroked
lovingly. For  Adam it  was an  experience he had never known the like
of. The warmth of another human body next to his, the pure pleasure of
being touched  as intimately  as Stan was touching him at that moment.
Somewhere, deep  in his mind, he was vaguely aware that what they were
doing was  "not right"  to the  majority of people, but frankly he did
not give a fuck.

    Stan was  caressing his buttocks, taking care to rub his anus gen-
tly. Adam's  prick was  now fully erect, as was his lover's, two thick
hard rods rubbing against each other. Adam felt Stan let go of his em-
brace slightly,  then felt  the warm  wetness of  Stan's mouth  on his
smooth, hairless chest, licking the nipples, nipping them lightly with
his teeth.  Stan's tongue  traced a silvery line of saliva down Adam's
body, taking  a slight  pause while  he licked  at the  hollow of  his
navel, then  continuing on it's path towards the most sensitive of re-
gions. Adam gasped as Stan kissed the tip of his dick, then closed his
eyes and allowed the sensations to flow over him as Stan took his full
seven inches into his mouth.

    He was  a master of cock-sucking, his tongue working marvels which
drove Adam  into fits  of ecstasy.  Stan ran his hot tongue around the
swollen silky  glans, curling it behind the fleshed back rim of Adam's
foreskin, exploring the dark little piss-hole which was already drool-
ing salty pre-cum which mingled with Stan's saliva. Stan took the hard
cock deep  into his throat, pulling on Adam's buttocks and pushing his
face deep  into the boy's pubic hair. The wrinkled sac of Adam's scro-
tum nestled  in the  cleft of  Stan's chin,  and he  became aware of a
change in it's form, a tightening, the flesh drawing in to enclose the
large heavy balls, and he knew Adam's climax was near.

    Stan worked  harder, drawing  the long  shaft of his lover's prick
almost out  of his  mouth completely, then closing down on it quickly,
tickling the  thick veined  underside with his tongue. The boy was now
breathing heavily,  almost gasping, until, with a groan that the whole
town must  have heard, Adam came. Spunk, thick and warm and salty, be-
gan to spurt from the head of his dick, filling Stan's mouth and slid-
ing down the back of his throat in a river of cum. Adam grabbed Stan's
hair and  rammed his  cock into  his mouth  with force, almost causing
Stan to  gag and  choke. And then the climax was over. Adam dropped to
his knees  in front  of Stan,  exhausted, shattered  by what had taken
place. He  sagged forward,  into Stan's arms. Stan's erection stood up
almost vertically from the forest of curls at his crotch.

    "Why did  you do  that?" Adam gasped, genuinely shocked by the fe-
rocity of their passion.

    Stan smiled. "Because I wanted to. I've wanted to make love to you
ever since  that day  in the  shower." Stan  leaned forward and kissed
Adam on  the lips.  He was pleased to feel the pressure as Adam kissed
back. "Stay  here with  me," Stan  said. "Let  me take care of you, at
least for a while."

    Adam smiled.  "At least  for tonight,"  he said, slipping his hand
between Stan's  hairy thighs  and caressing his erect prick. "What you
just did was incredible... I don't think anyone's ever done that to me
before. I can't remember, anyway, so I guess it's the same thing."

    He began  to pull slowly on Stan's cock, teasing the foreskin back
over the  wet head then allowing it to retract again. "Don't be angry,
but I  don't know  if I could do the same to you... not yet, at least,
but maybe soon..."

    Stan smiled. "That's okay," he said, closing his eyes and enjoying
the feel of Adam's strong grip as he wanked him slowly. "Just keep do-
ing what you're doing and I'll be happy enough."

    Stan didn't  take long  to come.  Like Adam he was highly excited,
and it  was mere  moments before  his cock  exploded in  a fountain of
spunk, covering  Adam's hand  and dripping  in thick  goblets onto the
carpet. Then  they lay  together, in each other's arms on the couch in
the moonlight.

    "Stay with  me," Stan  repeated. "Stay  here forever. Put the past
behind you. We can be happy, I know it."

    Adam sighed.  "I'll stay for a while, but I have to know who I am,
where I  come from."  He kissed  Stan tenderly. "I'll stay until I can
please you just like you've pleased me, but then I have to go."

    Stan remained silent. Eventually they slept, and before long morn-
ing had  come with  a vengeance. Stan left Adam asleep on the couch as
he washed,  dressed and got his things together ready for his shift at
the hospital.  Taking one  last lingering look at the blonde Adonis on
the couch, he let himself out of the flat and went to work.

    Two hours  later Adam  sat at the kitchen table, a blanket wrapped
round him,  and studied  the contents  of the  battered leather wallet
which belonged  to him.  Eleven pounds and seventy-three pence, a dog-
eared bus ticket, and a crumpled piece of paper on which was written a
number... a phone number! Adam's heart leaped.

    Why hadn't the police or hospital staff noticed this? It seemed so
obvious. He  picked up  the paper  and walked  across to Stan's phone,
lifted the receiver and dialled the number. Nothing. Only the constant
tone that told him the number was unobtainable.

    Replacing the  receiver, he  picked up  the  telephone  directory,
turned to  the front  and started  searching. After  a few  seconds he
found it... 091, the area code for Newcastle-Upon-Tyne. At last he had
a starting point. It was not much to work from, but it was a start!

    He sat for a long time, staring at the phone number, wondering and
fantasizing about  it. He  did some  serious thinking that day, and he
made up his mind. He would stay with Stan for as long as he had agreed
to, but  no longer. He had to find out the truth about himself, he had
to. He really had no alternative.


                 Adam's adventures will be continued
                      in Part 2 ... coming soon!
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