Precious Memories: Part 5 (Reader Release) (Patreon)

Steam and Carol’s soft humming billow from out of the open washroom door as she draws my bath. The taste of honey-sweet tea lingering on my tongue I stare at the steam and ponder its meaning. She was about to bathe me. She wouldn’t only see me naked, she would have to touch me. Given the state of my bandaged wrists, hands and fingers it should have been obvious that she would have to look after me in such an intimate way but with everything else going on it wasn’t something I’d thought about until now. And now it was all I could think about. Imagining Carol’s gentle hands on my naked body lit a fire inside of me. Slowly I pan back across the posters and photos that lined the walls. I see the throngs of adoring fans surrounding the beautiful star in some of them and I wonder what they would have given to be in my position right now. To me she was just Carol but to them she was a goddess. Knowing that she was so desired only made me feel all the more blessed that she had taken me into her life.

Clashing against my raging personal and sexual desires come lessons drilled deep into my psyche, forgotten in their details but not their power. I could feel myself being drawn down into a dark pit of shame. It was only Carol’s warmth and wisdom and gentleness that provided the light to keep the shadows at bay. Had she only been a pretty face and a sexy body I might have been demanding Mrs. Blair to come rushing back to save me from temptation. As it was she had comforted me and helped me understand that my urges weren’t shameful. They were a precious part of me just waiting to bloom. My memories were still lost to me, hidden behind an impenetrable fog, but more and more I was getting the sense that where ever I had come from was not as nice as the place I was now.

As I study the posters I begin to notice a theme, particularly in the ones from earlier in her career. In those movies of her youth, fresh off her beauty titles her in the states, I note that they were mostly comedies. She was the only non-Asian among the characters on the posters, not unusual as that remained consistent through to the more recent films, but what really grabbed my eye was the over-sized reaction her character received from the others. In one she was in slinky, cleavage showing dress and had her arm around a man, smiling suggestively, as his eyes bulged and his face turned red. In another she wore a gown that hugged her wide hips beautifully and was looking back over her shoulder with a wry ‘cat that ate the canary’ grin while leaving a stunned disheveled businessman in her wake as what I assumed was his wife glared daggers at the man. And in still another she was hugging a seated man from behind, her chin resting on his shoulder with her face alight with a mischievous grin, while he looked straight at the viewer with a distraught ‘heaven help me’ expression. Though I couldn’t understand the language on the posters, in all of them there was this unmistakable sense of Carol’s character being a figure that evoked both naughtiness and humor in equal measure, a character that stood out from the rest for something beyond her physical allure and whiteness, as if her presence alone was a punchline that the viewer would instantly understand.

“I was a head turner back then, huh? I was about your age there.” Carol says as she walks back into the room, noting the poster I was focused on. “Elephant in the Room. It was my second film. Terrible movie but I have a lot of great memories making it. Opened a lot of doors for me.”

“You still are.” I say without a hint of sarcasm. She was a stunner back then, no question, but to me she was even more beautiful now. “A head turner that is.”

“Careful, handsome.” She smiles and tousles my hair. “Flattery will get you everywhere with me.” Carol puts her arms around me and helps me to stand. “Come on, handsome. Up we go.” Once on my feet I could walk just fine on my own, nevertheless Carol keeps an arm tightly around my waist as she hold my hand to her opposite shoulder with her other hand.

“Woah.” I mutter under my breath as she leads me into a washroom of marble and brass that would be more at home in a palace than the third floor of this Oregon apartment building.

“Yeah, I kind of over did it in here.” She says, leading me toward the humongous claw foot tub. “But a lady will have her indulgences.” Her hand on my back she looks up at me. “May I undress you?”

“Um…”

“I told you, Lionel. I’ve seen it all before.”

“It’s not that. Um, the tea.”

“The tea?”

“I just drank that whole big mug of tea.” My face warms with blush and it had nothing to do with the warm steam coming up out of the floral scented water.

“Okay.” She tilts her head curiously.

“I have to go pee!”

“Oh!” Her easy laughter echoes off the marble. She pinches my blushing cheek and rests her head on my arm a moment. “No problem.” Pulling me toward the toilet she lines me up in front of the bowl. “Nurse Carol is on duty.” Before I could protest, not that I was planning to, she hooks her thumbs in the elastic waistband of my sweatpants and pulls them down to my thighs, the underwear coming with them. As my blush deepens I catch a little flare of her blue eyes and a twitch in her smile when her eyes lock onto my penis. Slipping her near arm around my waist again she pulls herself tight to my side and grabs my dick with her free hand. Her initial grip was all wrong, grabbing too near the tip as she attempts to take hold of it with her whole hand, though quickly she adjusts and lightly holds my penis between just her finger and thumb. “There we go.”

“This is so embarrassing.”

“Shush.” She says. “It’s a natural process. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I could have done this myself.”

“With those hands?” She says. “You would have gotten your dressing wet and probably missed the bowl. Now pee.”

“I’m trying!”

She giggles. “Shy bladder, huh?” I wince as just then my cock suddenly swells with a surge of blood. “Oh! Maybe he’s not so shy after all. He he he.”

I can’t help but laugh myself at her infectious giggles. “You are not making this easy.”

“No, I seem to be making it hard.” She quips right back.

“Ha ha ha! OH! My ribs.” I say, still laughing despite the pain. “Stop.”

Leaning her head into me again she continues to chuckle. “Come on, big guy. Just relax.”

Closing my eyes I take a deep breath and focus on letting things flow, though with Carol’s soft fingers holding my willy focus was not so easy. But the need was urgent and so before long the flood gate open and the strong, steady sound of piss hitting water echoes through room.

“Atta boy.” She praises me as she keeps the stream targeted. “That’s it…let it all out.” After a few more seconds she laughs. “Damn, boy! Still going? You really did have to go!”

“Ohhh.” My stream wavers and my sides ache as she makes me laugh again. This was likely the most embarrassing moment of my life, or so I would guess, in front of one of the world’s most gorgeous beauty queens and somehow Carol had me laughing. She stood there with my dick in her hand yet somehow she had made this moment something fun, something almost wholesome.

“Steady, steady.”

“Hahhhh.” With a long sigh of relief my bladder empties at last.

“There it is. You’d been saving that one up.” Carefully she squeezes out the last drops from my still growing but still semi-flaccid penis and even daubs the tip with a bit of toilet paper. She gives my manhood a proud little pat then flushes and washes her hands.

“Carol…if this is too much…”

“Don’t start with that again.” She dries her hands then pinches my nose. “Now let’s get you out of those clothes.”

I stand beside the tub, warm steam against my side and cool tile beneath my feet, watching her, in awe of her, falling for her, as she pulls my sweats and underwear all the way down and has me step out of them. She removes my socks then glides her hands back up my legs and up under my shirt. “I’m too short.” She says as she pushes my sweater up to my shoulders. “Or you’re too tall. Bend down. Careful now. Easy.” When I bend over she gingerly peels the shirt up over my head, careful with my ribs and hands, then pulls it off my arms. “Mmm, mmm!” She hums, looking me up and down. “You are a tall drink of water, aren’t you?” So very tenderly she caresses the bruises across my chest and ribs, as if trying to heal me with her gentle touch. Once again her gaze comes to a sudden stop at my genitals and sympathy turns to amusement. “Well hello to you too, little lion!”

My blush returns, twice as hot as before, I look down at my rock hard erection. “Oh! Um…sorry, um…”

“It’s okay, Lionel.” She keeps her hand on my bare chest. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s perfectly natural.” Then, with a twinkle in her eyes, she adds. “And perfectly curable, if you ask nicely.”

Part 6