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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 recognized 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 Gordon Brown 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 amnesiacs 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 environment 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 forgotten. 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 nobody 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 fivers 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 spirits 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 pajama jacket, hanging that on top of the robe. Feeling more than a little self-conscious, 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 missing), 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 sports 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 problems. He felt hot water trickle into the deep cleavage of his buttocks, 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, caressing the hard round pectoral muscles and tweaking his nipples gently. 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 reacting instinctively, swelling up to its full seven inches, the foreskin 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 inserted 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 ferocity 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 toweling 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 unceremoniously discharged from hospital, thrown out into the real world to stand or fall on his own merits. He’d drifted around the town aimlessly for a while, heading nowhere 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 doing 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 realized 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, easily long enough to accommodate Adam’s six foot frame.

Stan spent the rest of the afternoon settling his guest in, fussing over the young guy like a mother hen. His next shift at the hospital wasn’t until six the next morning, so they had plenty of opportunity 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 understatement. He fell asleep almost the instant his head touched the pillow.

He awoke again with a start after what seemed just seconds. The luminous clock on the bedside cabinet read 3.35 am. Something had broken 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 window, 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 sorrow.

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 slipping 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, nuzzling 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 gliding 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 respond. 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 gently. 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 embrace 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 regions. 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 drooling 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 scrotum 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, began to spurt from the head of his dick, filling Stan’s mouth and sliding 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 ferocity 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 doing 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 morning 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 dialed 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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