My very sick buddy needed to relieve some tension. I’m just an idea man, folks. [FM]

Note: this story isn’t about me, but I’m directly involved in it, if that makes sense. It’s a sad story, but its also a happy one. You’ll see. I realize in advance that this isn’t a typical /r/gonewildstories post, but it’s one that’s pretty rad in its own way.

Also: trigger warning for cancer, death. I mean, sp*iler alert, but also…yeah.

——

In 2015 when [I was the touring DJ for a frat rapper](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/i4jdcc/i_got_a_blowjob_from_a_bottle_service_girl_in_the/), it was one of the best times of my life. I got to travel the country and get paid pretty darn well. I was away at one point for two months, and I was texting my buddies from high school and uni pics of the #tourlife.

My best friend (we called each other our hetero-lifemate), Tommy, was as happy as could be for me. I met Riff Raff at one point and I got him to send Tommy a video message (dude was a big fan, in an ironic way). It was fun. After the tour ended, I went back to Manhattan, and Tommy called me. He told me he had stage 4 lung cancer, and he probably had six months to live. This was, needless to say, shocking to hear. He smoked probably 150 butts in his life — turns out he had a bunch of super-rare genetic markers for his ancestry that put that shit in his lungs.

He also told me he had known for a month and didn’t want me to worry about him when I was touring, that he wanted me to enjoy what I had worked for. Guy was the fucking best. I flew back to PGH and went to see him every week or two during his chemo treatments. It was extremely hard for him — anyone who’s been through or watched someone go through chemo knows. He couldn’t drink, so we taught ourselves how to make weed gummies, and get super fucking high all the time. His parents, both doctors, didn’t give a shit about us doing it, even encouraging it when he had to move back to his childhood home.

Anyway, I know when he first got his diagnosis, he was dating this really nice girl, but they had only been together for something like three months. When he got sick, he broke it off — not because he didn’t like her, but because he did — he didn’t want to burden her with what he was going through on a daily basis.

Eventually, he got so sick he had to go into the hospital full time for palliative care. He wasn’t doing great, and this was about five months after he told me. A bunch of high school friends who still lived in PGH (or from out of town) picame to visit him all the time, and one of them was Josie. Josie was tall, dirty blonde, impossibly cool for her beauty, just no ego to her. She’s an awesome person. (She’s a friend and I don’t want to get into her cup size or ass size, but let’s just put it this way: she is very, very attractive.)

Tommy and I both had huge crushes on her in high school, but it wasn’t reciprocal to either of us. She was a super popular girl who was in a bunch of different friend groups — despite us being, um, more of the D&D types, she still hung out with our circle of friends, even preferring ours by our senior year. She was just outrageously pretty and cool, but had the affect of not caring about popularity. Anyway, Josie and I had become closer after graduating, developing our friendship online since we both went overseas for our undergrads and were each pretty alone, especially at first. It never progressed past friendship, and that was okay with me. Tommy had gone from chubby geek to lacrosse player at college, turning his size into muscle, becoming a physically imposing presence in his early 20s. Dude got yoked, though the chemo and cancer had certainly sapped him of his strength.

She had flown back to PGH from LA to see Tommy for a week (and I’m being honest, to say goodbye), and she and I were carpooling via Uber to the hospital every day. She was a nurse, and she’d massage his legs and back and try to help him be comfortable.

We’d also all be eating the previously mentioned weed gummies — the nurses on staff didn’t care they were in his fridge — if it made Tommy more comfortable, that’s all that mattered to them (what, are they gonna arrest him for possession?). He also regularly removed or turned off his vitals monitors because of all the beeping annoying him. The nurses knew this because he’d use the call button to let them know he was going to turn them off and they didn’t have to check in on him.

One night after Josie and I left, we went to a bar, still stoned, and got started getting drunk. She grew up only a few blocks from my parents (we were both staying at our parents places), and we were basically just pre-mourning Tommy. I told him about the girl he had been dating and had broken up with, and she said she felt so bad for him.

And here, I can honestly say, is fucking close to verbatim, because I still can’t believe she and I had this conversation:

“Oh my god, Josie,” I slammed the table, laughing a little bit, “You should fuck him.”

“What?”

“You should fuck him. Seriously. You love him, he loves you — not romantically, but you guys love each other. If he wanted me to, I’d blow the guy but I don’t think he gonna be on board. And he fuckin’ needs to get fucked!”, I told her halfway laughing at my own suggestion. (It’s true, btw. If he had said he dying wish was for me to blow him, I would have done it in a heartbeat, that’s how much I loved the guy — closest thing I had to a brother, even if he did fuck one of my older sisters…but that’s another story. And the only thing I’ve done with a dude was kiss one on the lips for ten seconds as part of a dare.)

She got looked at me wide-eyed, laughed for a few seconds, then… well, she got quiet, pausing. Being a little stoned and a little more drunk was maybe opening up her inhibitions? Maybe? After a beat, she said, “do you think he’d want that? I mean, is it a pity fuck? But also, he hasn’t got laid in months and…”, she paused for a moment. “I guess I should see if he wants to fuck, right? It’s kind of a gift?” Her nursing mind also started to race. “He’s been loving the massages and it’s made him relax. He told me today when we had a moment that it’s one of the only things he looks forward to right now.”

(I should also mention that I told Josie a few days ago I wanted to write about what happened, and she gave her blessing — I told her I would change her name and a few details, but she was cool with me doing this.)

She teared up for a second. The gravity of the situation with Tommy had overwhelmed her (I know this because she told me). Josie took a second and collected herself. The problem we faced (well she faced) was that she was married. Her husband (Jake) had only met Tommy a handful of times, and they didn’t exactly get along. Tommy was…difficult sometimes. Not in a bad way, but I liked to say he’d never been wrong before. About anything. He might not have been right, but he’d certainly never been wrong, if that makes sense. Jake and Tommy had a few arguments and there was no love lost between them, let’s put it that way. She excused herself from the table and told me she had to call home and went outside.

About 15 minutes later, she came back a bit teary-eyed. “Okay, I’m in. Jake, as it turns out, didn’t tell me he had a fetish for this kind of thing, so he’s *really* all about it. Especially because…he doesn’t really…like…Tommy?” She smiled through that, blotting her tears, and laughing a little.

We plotted the scheme to make it happen — we knew he had “private” time to sleep a few hours during visiting hours, but also knew the nurses would let close friends or family bend the rules and stay for a little while — I had taken a nap on the chair in his room a day or two before during that time. Again, these nurses were amazing and looked the other way all the time so we could be idiots even his fragile physical state (I will say, his mental state never wavered — he was cracking jokes via text to me even hours before he passed, the guy was incredible).

The next day, Josie and I Uber’d to the hospital. She was looking like she did every day: absurdly good. I asked her if she was nervous, and she told me no, she was doing something nice for a friend. We arrived at the hospital and checked in — at this point I knew all the front desk staff, and told them we knew it was quiet hours but that Josie had to fly back west and this was her last chance to see Tommy (not a lie, her flight was the next morning), and they let us through. I went to the family lounge, and Josie went to see Tommy.

I’d say about 30 minutes later, she poked her head in the lounge and said he was awake and wanted to see me. Josie and I walked in and Tommy was…well, he was pretty happy in that moment, let’s just say.

“I should let you two talk,” Josie said with a smile, and left.

“Dude, what the fuck was that??”, Tommy said, laughing as best as he could in his condition.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?”, I grinned at him.

“This was your fuckin idea man?”

“Yeah well, I figured you didn’t want me to blow you, so whatever. Don’t even consider thanking me, I didn’t lift a finger.”

We talked for about five more minutes, just mostly laughing and him shaking his head. I got Josie from the lounge and she got into the bed with Tommy, cuddling him, and we all hung out for another few hours. A nurse came in about an hour after it all went down and while I don’t think she explicitly knew what happened she did say, “oh this is the party room” with a smirk and a laugh (Tommy always had visitors, so I’m chalking it up to that).

About 10 days later, he passed away. Not to make this into a therapy session, but I flew in the night before he died, and we had a moment together I won’t get into that was extremely emotional. That said, he also told me he had about $500 in cash sitting in his desk at home he wanted me to use for his “party”, claiming it was for “kielbasi, a keg, and Irish whiskey.”

Josie flew back out for the funeral and party — we had 25 of us or at a buddies place. Tommy’s older brother pulled Josie aside at one point and told her how much Tommy loved her, that she was his dream girl, etc. Josie took it well (she knew this, but still, and told him the story of what had happened two weeks prior. He was… shocked? Envious? Happy for his brother for sure.

Later that night, she actually recounted the story pf what went down to me and a few of the girls. She had grabbed me to confirm the story because she needed me to back up what she had done was cool with her husband. It involved a blowjob, cowgirl riding, and him finishing in her mouth — all while being as quiet as humanly possible. I guess he was completely shocked by the offer but wasn’t about to turn her down, and he had told the nurses via the comm device that he was going to turn off the vitals monitors (which would have alerted them to his elevated heart rate, smart guy that he was.)

I miss him every day still, but that he got his rocks off near the end still makes me unflinchingly smile.

(In all honesty I really debated even sharing the story, but with the anniversary of Tommy’s death at this time of year, plus I’ve been doing a bunch of introspection about our last few months together — sorry this isn’t a sexier story, but it’s what happened, and considering that Josie fucked a guy with her husband’s permission, I’d say it qualifies as “gone wild”, right?)

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/iysas2/my_very_sick_buddy_needed_to_relieve_some_tension