The Buttermilk Home
By Bald Hairy Man
This is a story for adult men. It depicts gay sex. If this offends or bothers you, DO NOT READ IT. It is a fantasy and is not a sex manual, or a discussion of safe sex. If you have comments send them to winarch47@yahoo.com
A friend at the Buttermilk Home described it as the Death Valley Home for Unwanted men. It has thirty residents and is located in East Appleton, North Carolina. There is no Appleton, and there is damn little of East Appleton. It has about a hundred residents. It was difficult to get to and the home discouraged visitors. Most of the residents were single men.
I believe that God has a sense of humor. When the Covid epidemic struck, the isolation of East Appleton and the lack of visitors became a positive virtue. As the other homes suffered outbreaks and both residents and staff died, we were fine. They also reassigned the director of our home to more important facilities along with much of our staff.
Most geriatric filing cabinets' residents are women since they often out live men. In general, they want female staff. After a few months, our female staff was gone, and male staff from other facilities were assigned to Buttermilk, including the new Director, Lonny Hornsbury.
In the hysteria of the Covid outbreak, no one noted we were an almost all male and all gay institution. There were two women on the second floor who were bedridden and deeply demented.
When I said no one noticed, I did not include Lonny. He noticed. Lonny was a six-foot-three Black man trained in administrating nursing homes. He had twenty years of experience. He was also openly gay. He ran a nursing home with no covid problems once the nature of the illness was known. He had three cases with no fatalities. Once there were rules, he followed them. He was both strict, but clever. He managed to have remote family meetings so the residents could keep in touch. He allowed cell phones. He rewarded staff who strictly follows the rules and sent presents to their families. He sent meals to the families of staff members who were working additional shifts. He also sent them to the live-in friends, and partners.
Of course, no good deed goes unpunished, and he was sent to the Buttermilk Home. When he found that East Appleton had no apartments for the staff, he opened a disused wing of the home to house the single staff. That was in the original building and was not handicapped accessible.
This building had a toilet and a sink for each room. There was a common bath area with a six head shower, and three bath cubicles. The former patients had to have a nurse present when he or she bathed. The showers spaces had been separated by curtains, but they had decayed years earlier. This arrangement was too institutional for patients now. It was not a problem for the mostly gay staff.
I am Billy Dundee. I have twenty years of nursing home experience, and I am a big guy who was useful for big patients. Many of our patients are overweight. I have a bad scar on my face from a car accident ten years ago. I look scary. That is useful for residents with dementia. I can tell a patient, "You are being very loud. I think it would be nice if you were quiet for a while." Nine out of ten times they calm down. I never ever threaten, but when a big, ugly guy asks you to do something, you usually do it. When they told me someone was after them, I tell them not to worry. I am watching and will protect them. They believe that too.
I had worked for Lonny before, so I knew all the rules. He came with three younger guys, Tom, Dooley and Skeeter. They had been used for janitorial services before. They weren't young sophisticates, and were lazy, but I knew how to deal with that type. There were four new guys in the 30-40 age range, and six my age. I describe myself as fiftyish. That means fifty-four.
No one wanted to work at The Buttermilk Home in East Appleton. There were two benefits. The home was classified as a hardship location and the salaries were 15% higher than the normal salaries. The men were also okay by the dorm type rooms and the common shower. The shower became an asset when they realized it had recreational potential.
Most of the staff were gay. Those when claimed to be straight, were not opposed to making do with what was available. While Skeeter claimed to be straight, he also admitted that a man's ass was a lot tighter than a cunt. Edgar was my age and a widower. He claimed to be straight but admitted to me it was nice to have sex with someone who didn't complain.
The home had a local doctor, Ram Das, who tested us regularly. Ram was a good guy. His real name had 27 letters, so Ram Das was an abbreviation. Ram said his nurse, Manish, was a cousin. I assumed they had exchanged enough sperm to become related.
The kitchen staff was run by Bobby Butler, a confirmed bachelor and his bachelor buddies Scooter and Jefferson Davis Jones. He used the nick name JD. He was worried Lonny would fire him. Lonny told me that if he fired every Southerner who had a stupid name, he would have to do the janitorial work himself.
On day there was a big screw up in the kitchen when something undesirable fell into a stew, ruining it. JD was slicing and dicing the replacement dinner. Lonny joined in and they were friends after two solid hours of work.
Lonny pitched in when needed. If there was an "accident" and the attendants were occupied, Lonnie would do the clean-up. In the home, an accident involved piss or shit. A medical or mental problem was an incident. A major incident required a trip to the hospital. We had a good relationship with the Rescue Squad. Since this was a rural area, many of the members were farmers, often bachelor farmers. They often had flexible schedules.
For the first month or so the shower was the meeting place for a mutual admiration society. We were a mixed bag of men, short, tall, thin, or heavy. Some men were well endowed and others less so. I am not 100% a virgin, and I know that some big cocks are still-lives. They are same size soft and hard. Others are growers, not showers. Some have a curve the fits your throat or ass perfectly. A big cock head on a long, thin, shaft works well for me. In nursing school, I had been known as the Battering Ram. My shaft and cock head are the same size.
None of us were virgin, but for most of us this was a first time we were in an almost entirely gay environment. At first the shower was a show room for naked men. I was uncomfortable being in a group of nude men since I am heavy set and would never be mistaken for beach bunny. I had only rarely been in a gang shower and hadn't realized that a big cock was more important than a slim figure.
It developed into a mutual admiration society and then into a rearranging of balls and cocks. The shower had an alcove just big enough for two men. That corner became popular.
As the pandemic grew Dr. Ram Das tested us regularly. I mentioned to him that perhaps testing for other diseases might be useful. He had noticed the bulge at my crotch and said there was another test that was quite simple and easy. That test indicated there were no sexually transmitted diseases in the staff.
"Are men here the sort of guys who could use sperm in place of cream in their coffee?" he asked jokingly.
"I've never thought of sperm as a food," I said.
He laughed again, "I am sure I have known some men have thought of it that way," he replied. He leaned close to me. "Manish's balls' are extraordinary productive."
"An old friend of mine told me I make a mess every time I shoot," I said. We understood each other. A week later everyone on the staff and most of the patients passed the AIDS test.
That weekend Mr. Dudley Smith began to fade. He was 95 and had begun to get forgetful. On Saturday he didn't get up. We suspected he had a heart attack in his sleep. We called Lonny, Dr. Das and Dudley's son, Dudley Smith Jr. Dr. Das said he it was just a mater of time.
His son lived in Florida. He was seventy. He asked if hospitalization was necessary. Dr. Das said his father was in a deep coma, and the outcome would be the same wherever he was. The hospital was not taking patients except in extreme circumstances due to the Covid overload. There were no visitors allowed.
To our great relief, Dudley Smith Jr. was intelligent and sensible. Lonny told him we would keep his father comfortable and keep him under 24-hour care. Dudley Jr. had a serious heart problem and travel was unwise during the pandemic. Lonnie told him that his father had many friends at the home, who would check in on him. That pleased Dudley's son. Lonny did not tell him his father no longer remembered he had a son.
That decision went over well with the other residents. Dying alone in a hospital hooked up to a machine was a nightmare to most of them. Some of them came in and talked to him hoping that a friendly voice would be a comfort to him.
Lonny said he would sit with Dudley from six to midnight. That worked into the rest of the staffs' schedule. Dr. Das came in at six in the afternoon. Dudley's vital signs were gradually getting worse. Lonny taking the night shift was a morale booster for the staff and the patients. For many adult homes, concerned leadership is an advertising feature, not an actual policy.
At midnight, Skeeter relieved Lonny. Skeeter had been away when his mother died, and watching Dudley helped make up for that.
There was an extra room in the dorm, and Lonny decided to spend the night at the home. I ran into him in the shower room. JD and Edgar were there too. JD briefly looked shocked when Lonny walked in.
Lonny noticed. "Is this the first time you've been naked in the shower with a Black man?" he asked JD.
"It sure is," JD replied. "It sure is nice to know that everything they say about Black guys' cocks is true." Both men burst out laughing.
"It doesn't look like you were short changed," Lonny replied.
"I don't judge a man's cock by its size. It is the taste that counts," Edgar said. Edgar was a good worker and good with the patients, but he rarely said anything personal.
One thing led to another, and soon Lonny was sucking J.D as Edgar sucked me. It was a surprising, almost shocking, turn of events. It also seemed right. It was natural and comfortable. A little later, JD was sucking Lonny and I was sampling Edgar's home brew. JD was like a kid when he first tasted ice cream as Lonny popped and fed him his personal reserve.
JD could have been faking it, but I hadn't noticed he had any acting skills. Edgar had not been kidding when he affirmed the importance of sperm. He was a cum milking machine. Edgar was the least likely man I knew to be an obsessive cock sucker. It was a complete surprise. Our little group broke up after the orgasms. "This gives new meaning to the term nightcap," Lonny said. The men murmured approval.
The next day, JD came over to me. "Was that a hot scene or was that a hot scene?" he asked.
"It certainly ended with a bang," I replied.
JD whispered in my ear, "I was surprised when Lonny took my load. It was a relief," he said. "I've wondered about Black guy's cocks. I have to pay him back and take his sperm. Do you know him?"
"Somehow I think he likes to make deliveries in the rear," I said.
"I've been known to entertain on my back porch," he said.
"Lonny is a big boy," I whispered.
"Somehow, I have a feeling I've never reached my full capacity," he said. "I like the bigger ones."
"He shoots off like his cock is a fire hose," I said. "You can feel him unloading."
"You heard this?" he asked with a smile on his face.
"A birdie told me this," I said.
"I bet it was a big Blackbird," he replied.
Dudley Smith died in his sleep two days later. I called his son and told him that he died without any indication of any pain or distress. I told him Lonny would call him about funeral arrangements that afternoon. Lonny told him we would have remembrance at the home, but we didn't allow visitors due to the pandemic. We could connect him on a video link.
That worked out well. Dudley was cremated and buried next to his wife. Dudley Jr. his wife, their kids watched the service and one of his grandchildren did an excellent talk. Our staff and Dudley's friends gave their condolences.
The next day, I ran into Edgar who told me that there were other men who would like to join us in the showers. There were a few residents who had an interest. I told him I wasn't sure it would be good to become a regular thing.
"Billy, we are stuck here in downtown Fuck-Knows-Where. Why not enjoy what we can?" he said, "If you want to improve morale, this would do it for no cost and no effort."
While I didn't want to admit that he was right. Most of our staff had been in cities and towns where they had friends and places to go. You had to drive twenty miles from the Home to get a beer. I said I would talk with Lonny.
Lonny said that technically this wasn't a prisoner-of-war camp. We were here because we were gay, and the President of the Board of trustees was a born-again Baptist. Our staff was professional and skilled. This out of the way facility was punishment for being gay. "I can tell you one thing, no one for the corporate office would visit us on a bet!" he added.
I told Edgar about the conversation. He agreed with Lonny. I agreed too, but I was uneasy. I suggested that any activities should be in the Dorm, not in the residents' building and had to be done when not on a shift. There should be no hint of involuntary activities.
"Not even a little Cops and Robbers action?" he asked.
"There should be no Cops & Robbers and no playing doctor either," I said. "All communications should be by word of mouth, with no paper trail."
I wasn't sure how many of the staff would be interested. To round it off to an even number, it was all of them. I finally admitted I was one of them.
A few nights later went to my room after the shift change, undressed, put my bathrobe on and went to the shower. Edgar was there with JD, Scooter and Manish, Ram's nurse. He was there because a resident had a problem. One resident, Gill was there too. He was a young gay man who had been beaten up badly. He was almost a basket case, but he was handsome and the attention he received at Buttermilk was beginning to show.
Gill was sitting in a chair under the shower as Manish sucked him. Gill had been unable to engage in sex, and I guess this was oral therapy.
Scooter came over to me. "I was hoping your balls were full?" he asked. Rednecks have such a refined conversational approach.
"I'll bet you will need to swallow twice," I replied.
Manish turned Gill over to Edgar's greedy mouth and went to JD. Manish was a dark skinned Indian with a thick coat of hair on his chest. JD was so pale he all but disappeared waking past a white wall. Manish seemed to a few sex techniques from the Indian sub-continent. JD was moaning seconds later. Scooter was standing next to me, so I dropped to my knees and sucked him.
I don't know if there is a number of men needed to formally constitute an orgy. I think we had enough men, but it turned into a refined affair. I had been to some group parties. In some the men were so nervous nothing happened. In others the sex was so frantic you didn't know who was fucking you or whose ass you were fucking. Scooter's cock was almost prehensile. It responded to every movement of my tongue and lips. I felt appreciated.
The high point of the night was when Gill shot off in Edgar's mouth. Gill exclaimed, "It's Beautiful!" that was the first multiple syllabic word Gill had said since he came to Buttermilk. A little later, Scooter had a chance to find out how much of my sperm he could swallow. He could swallow it all. Manish was sucking up JD's sperm.
Gill had the first orgasm since he was beaten. It was also the first time an outside stimulus generated a normal reaction in Gill. There had been a disconnect. Everyone was overjoyed including Gill. He could feel intense pleasure again. Ram was ecstatic when he got the news.
A few days later I was working the early shift. I went to the showers and found Carter and Lou with Bobby the cook and Lonny. Carter and Lou were handsome, 40-year-old guys who could do anything you needed in a nurse or orderly. They were partners, but they liked to meet new guys. It wasn't cheating if your partner was watching you do it with another guy.
"I would love to spend some time with my cock in a warm ass," Lonny remarked.
"I've got an itch in a hard-to-reach place," Carter said.
"He's too big for you dear!" Lou exclaimed.
"A man's got to do what a man has to do," Carter said. It was soon clear that Carter could take Washington's Monument up his ass with room left over for the Statue of Liberty.