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 °5 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.