Perverts 'R' Us

Winter Letter to Padre Island

By Grade School Nurse ( M+/F+/b+, voy, enema )

January 19, 2007

Brainerd, MN

Dear Joleen and Fred,

You are very much missed. We don't think we ever had as much fun as having you as neighbors up here last spring and summer, and can't wait for you to get back in May or June. Duane is out ice fishing almost daily. He has many new fishermen acquaintances that are all about our age, but as you know he pays them no mind unless the vibes are right and then forms friendships that can last for years.

Two couples in particular are very much into the scene: Gerry and Marybeth Larsen who are in their late sixties like us and have grown up sons and daughters with families in different places North and South, and Chester and Cynthia Kowalski who are in their thirties with two daughters and twin sons. The Larsens have two granddaughters and two grandsons, and as you might have guessed it did not take Duane long to broach the subject and there was instant rapport, so he didn't have to appear overly persistent to draw them out. But then Duane always had a great gift for double entendres, and they either get it or they don't. They got it right away. The Kowalskis were a little more coy about it, but Duane could tell they were dying to cave.

Gerry and Marybeth have the grandchildren most of the time, which is an arrangement their parents love as they are both frantically driven, Type A career yuppies. They have a house on Lake Silo and have been to our home twice. Sonya is a complete wet blanket when it comes to the subject, but she tolerates Bruce, who is really into it where his sons Matthew, 12 and Billy, 10 are concerned. Bruce would spend every one of his vacations up here if Sonya would let him, because they know a "nurse" in Mille Lacs who tends to the boys with regularity. They are very close-mouthed about it because he lavishes expensive gifts on them and they have been literally reduced to the condition of little pump-whores.

It was practically the first time that Duane met Gerry or maybe the time right after that. The fishing was not that good and Gerry said, "Why not pick up Heddy and come over and meet Marybeth?"

We said we didn't feel right about just dropping in that way but Gerry said we wouldn't say that if we knew Marybeth. She made us lunch and we had a few old-fashioneds and then she brought out the picture albums and the videos. First of all, both of the boys are gorgeous blonds with blue eyes and Joleen, you should see the buttocks on those boys. There must have been six or eight Polaroid albums of just Marybeth's boy "patients" when she was working for the famous Dr. Konig, and more of Bruce in the same role as well as more recent CD's of the boys. Well, needless to say, we had to have Gerry and Marybeth over as soon as the kids showed up.

That very Saturday afternoon, who should show up at our door at the appointed time but Gerry, Marybeth, Michelle, 14, Susan, 13, Darrell, 12, and William (Billy) 10. After brief introductions, we entered the Q&A period. We asked Michelle and Susan how the boys felt about all the visits to and from nurses and weren't they shy about having it brought up.

They laughed delightedly and said "There's not all that much they can do about it, is there?" Darrell and Billy were turning beet red to their hair roots and blubbering by now and punching the girls with clenched fists. Gerry saw to it that there was no more of that. He demanded that they apologize, which only made them turn their wrath on him, but one look from Marybeth and they were reduced to cowed pouts and hoarse bawling.

Moments later we were in the bedroom, where my boy patients are regularly serviced by appointment with their parents. All was in readiness as the boys studied the objects on the bedside table with fear and embarrassment. The girls proved expert assistants and in short order each boy was lying beside his brother, face down with his head on a plump pillow and another larger one under him. Their tears were already drenching the pillows as they stared fixedly at each other and roared. It struck me as often before how the scene perfectly represented a tableau of Tragedy and Comedy: the distorted frowns and anguish of the boys, the broad, toothy grins of Duane and their grandfather.

The girls stood staring and giggling in the hallway. Duane set a straight-back chair at one end of the bed for Gerry and another one for himself next to it. I took a thermometer from the alcohol-filled blue glass and wiped it with a pinch of cotton. I shook it down and inserted it into Darrell's mouth. I did the same with Billy. Never have I completed this process that one or more of the men in attendance has not brought up a crude analogy of the "fore" and "aft" kind that is met with universal laughter and applause. The boys get the joke but fail to appreciate the humor and blubber through their stopped-up mouths.

Duane looked blessed-out as usual during these sessions and hugged Gerry, sparing with him excitedly. He says, "Watch this, Ger! Watch this."

I remove the thermometer from Darrell's mouth and held it up to the light of the window.

"Watch this, Ger! She's never satisfied! Never! Watch this!"

Gerry raised an eyebrow in mock contempt and said, "Satisfied? Surely you jest!" They both roared with laughter, slapping each other on the back.

I followed the same procedure with Billy. The men were getting restive. They leaned forward in their chairs, Duane's arms dangled over the top of the chair, which he sat on backward, his legs straddling it like a saddle. Gerry let out a low moan and said, "Jesus, honey, I'm sittin' here lookin' at two butts with two pairs of cheeks, four cheeks in all and they're both strainin' at the fuckin' BVD's and want OUT!"

Duane started laughing hysterically, stamping his feet and shaking his head and said, "Ohhh, you nasty man, you! ... What have you got in mind? ... Do you mean to tell me she's ... she's gonna lower those BVD's there ... on both of 'em? ... What in the Sam Hill is goin' on here?"

The "forward" thermometers were lying back on the tray. I grabbed hold of the waistband of Darrell's BVD's and slowly hauled them down to the middle of his thick, smooth thighs. They resisted the effort, though, clinging to his plump white hinder cheeks as if intent on preserving his last luxury of modesty. Gerry was laughing and stuttering, "Uh huh! Uh huh! Uh huh! ... Heddy, sweetheart, I think the hands are finally winning. The BVDs are losing!"

Darrell's lovely, plump, deep-cleft, alabaster-smooth, gardenia-white rump cheeks were exposed from tailbone to thigh to the lecherous stares of his grandfather and Duane. I went around the end of the bed to the other side. The window was cracked open due to the overheated house and the curtain was wafting in the wind. I slowly inched Billy's BVDs down, presenting to the men's intense gaze the identical picture of Darrell's.

Broad grins and heavy breathing prevailed in the silence of the room. The men's moist almost tearful eyes followed a monotonous course: from Darrell's projected naked buttocks to his bawling, tear-stained face; from Darrell's face to Billy's naked buttocks; from Billy's naked buttocks to his bawling, tear-stained face; from Billy's tear-stained face to Darrell's ... But the men stare intensely and smile pensively and look transported in their seemingly never-tiring fascination.

Their mood changed abruptly when I picked up the other, the "aft" thermometer. Gerry was giggling softly and winking at Duane. Duane was biting his left thumb and shaking his right hand as if it had just been burnt. Dark wet spots appeared simultaneously on their crotches. Gerry was whispering, "She's gettin' ready stick it in, Duane. She's gettin' ready to s-stick it in now. Watch this now."

I dipped the thermometer into the large jar of Vaseline and picked up a gob. I delicately parted Darrell's plump round arse cheeks at their lower cleavage and exposed his tightly-squeezed immaculate pink anus. Both Gerry and Duane were coughing and grabbing themselves now from inside their pockets. I advised Darrell to relax, but he roared all the louder and showed no interest in doing so. I told him we could stand there all day and wait and how would he like that, to have his grandfather and Duane wait all that time when it was only going to wind up the same in the end.

Darrell let out one final roar and gave in. I slowly inserted the greasy thermometer to its hilt.

Gerry and Duane seemed to be having a seizure and grunting fitfully, their eyes ready to pop out of their heads. They soiled the crotches of their trousers.

I'll tell you more next time, Joleen. Be sure to show this to Fred. Better yet, have some fun. Try to keep it from him.

Love to you both,

Heddy & Karl