#nosecare

Of course it’s raining outside and they forgot an umbrella. But what happened in 8 hours to take a mild sniffle and explode it into a monster cold in the nose!

Therein rests so much sex appeal for me… the transformation! From my nose is itchy and a little runny - to sore nostrils and endless nose blowing.

But the BEST part??? I get to put them to bed and take care. I have a new tissue box at the ready - nose-friendly of course - a warm bath run and plenty of soup to feed the cold.

From my seat in front of her, I could hear her sneeze. It was a new sound to me—somehow striking, almost beautiful, though also deeply sad. I felt bad for her.

When I turned around and mouthed, “Are you OK?” she shook her head and gave a clear no, tapping her left nostril with her finger. Things had clearly taken a turn. She’d stopped using tissues and moved on to the rough brown paper towels from the rest room. Then came another sneeze—and a loud, wet blow, thick, goopy - nasal viscosity only a cold will produce.

I watched as she took out her Afrin bottle, tilted her head back, and gave each nostril two long, desperate sniffles. Some relief followed—or at least enough to get her through the next class.

The day dragged on. If sneezing and blowing your nose in front of your college mates wasn’t bad enough, Julie still had to sit through our college government assembly. I turned around again and said, “I can’t believe you’re still here. Please, just go home and rest.” The room was silent and her sniffles were audible to all. Then the sneeze into her wet paper towel. And another and the masking of a wet blow to follow. Her nose was now entirely red form her lip to bridge on both side. Poor thing. But as bad as I felt - my arousal was clear for anyone who might care to see. I guess no one ever seemed surprised by tight pants back then - let alone the obvious swelling there in. Another sneeze and I whispered. “Health Ctr time, maybe?” She whispered back. “I literally haven’t stopped blowing since I saw you this am. Still think the nose is cute?” Oh yes I certainly did!

She smiled weakly and said my favorite line: “It’s just a cold in the nose.” Then another nostril tap, a half-stifled sneeze, and a soggy wipe with one of those brown paper towels.

The day eventually ended, and so did the worst of Julie’s cold—she stayed home for three days to recover.

She came back on Friday—surprisingly, not taking the extra day for the weekend. Her nose was dry and chapped, and she still spoke through the congestion, though the constant running had stopped. The sneezing had slowed, and she now carried a little cream to soothe the raw skin around her nostrils.

That first cold, that first sneeze—somehow, those memories have stayed with me for life. They stirred something in me, something I didn’t fully understand then.

Of course, by the next week, I had my own cold—earned, I suppose, from a few too many of her passed-off, snot-soaked tissues.

Was it worth it? The sneezing, the late-night nose care, the stuffiness?

After Julie blew her nose—loud and dramatic—we all headed to class. But of course, I circled back. There they were: little yellow tissues, damp and abandoned on the bench. Feverish and fully gripped by a cold, she had left them behind like calling cards. I sat down, carefully picked them up, and felt their lingering warmth, their moisture—impressive, considering the cold air. Such a litterbug.

I remember sitting in class afterward, sliding my hand into my pocket just to feel them again. Still damp. It was almost shocking how much snot had soaked into the tissues—and now into my fingers. All the while, Julie was nearby, talking about her cold. It was obvious she had just come down with it. That perfect moment of peak contagion. My immune system didn’t stand a chance, but honestly, I didn’t care. I knew what was coming. Within a few days, I’d be in bed, nose running, throat sore—just like her. And somehow, I welcomed it. A long weekend was ahead. Time to blow through a box of tissues and think about Julie’s beautiful, messy cold.

When poly sci ended, I made my way toward the mens room. Oddly enough- Julie’s classroom was right next to mine. As I passed, she walked out, nose buried in a fresh white tissue—probably toilet paper. “I haven’t sdopped sdeezing since you told be to blow,” she said through the congestion. Did I tell her that? Maybe she just sensed I wouldn’t mind. Her voice was thick, her nose bright red—she was completely miserable and, no doubt, headed home to curl back into bed.

I slipped into the stall, tissues still on my mind, and reached into my pocket. I pulled out two obliterated tissues still glossy, soaked with the clear goop of a new, super potent cold. My hands were wet, sticky with it. I couldn’t help but wonder—was I about to get really sick? Psychosomatic or not, I already felt the itch in my throat and yes the arousal was acute and obvious….and knowing my lousy immune system, it could be real. This was going to be a three- or four-boxer. The kind of cold where you sleep in shifts, wake up groggy, sore nosed and find your nightstand littered with tissues. And somehow, all of it felt worth it.

Through the walls of my dorm room I could hear her working her nose cold out of her head. I felt bad for her. The blows: They would start off swampy and thick sounding… Goopy and viscous. She always sneezed after a good honk. Like me when I catch cold- the vibration set off a tickle and a sneeze. The snot was thick so she needed to sneeze into a tissue… I could hear the loud stifle choooooo at the end. Followed by a quick blow and another stifled “chooooo” but this time ending with a plugged ummmmopppffffhhh and a blow.

Once the initial mess was safely in her tissue… The thick heavy honking would start to help her clear plugged part of the nose. You know when this happens… After the blow, your sinuses swell and the block of thick goop is still deep inside. No matter how hard you blow a crescendo of honks follow until finally breaking through. I could hear this all night… Through my wall and I was left aroused and thinking of knocking on the door to go in, caretake her terrible nose with soft tissues and soft cream for the nostrils. The end — would have us making wonderful passionate love under the glow of her sore ever-reddening nosy.

For the 10th straight summer- Ive landed a beautiful cold in my nose. She had a full blown number her self - but it didn’t keep me from Kissing her red sore nose. Now here I am 4 days later - plugged up - sneezing every 15 minutes and stocking up on puffs for the 1000 blows to come. Was it worth it? Yup! Pic of the first blow! Well, the first blow where you tell yourself - “oh yeah, I gotta cold”. This one is pretty obvious.