Even as I answered the doorbell, I knew damned well that I should not be doing this. I was already in the high-risk category for COVID-19 just because of my age, but into the bargain I had had a history of lung problems dating all the way back to my childhood and teens — pneumonia, bronchitis, pleurisy, and general coughs and colds. I do try to keep myself generally fit, exercising regularly and eating healthy meals, but I also have to face up to the fact that I am in my seventies, gaining weight and losing hair, and having trouble getting and keeping a hard-on since prostate surgery a few years back. All good reasons why I should not be answering my door to a stranger during this Covid lockdown just because I needed sex badly!

In normal times — Will we ever see "normal" times again? — I have a couple of local fuck-buddies and one or the other of them will help me with my sexual needs. Sometimes even both of them, but I do prefer one-on-one to threesomes. However, in these not-so-normal times both of them, both being married with families, are reluctant to stray from the roost, afraid of putting their families at risk. And I don't blame them. I just have myself to worry about. But I do still get very horny, and a lubed-up hand and a dildo just doesn't completely do the job. I need man-flesh occasionally.

I figured we were fairly safe in this already isolated little coastal town, but if my regulars were too scared, I would need to find a new fuck buddy.

That is why I put an ad on DoubleList looking for a younger guy interested in fucking a daddy type. To be honest, I should have said a grand-daddy type, but I did include my age in the ad. Within minutes of posting the ad, I got a reply from the young man now ringing my doorbell. He told me in that first email that he was 35 years old, was a "top" and that he had a thing for older men, the older the better. In subsequent emails I learned that he was a sales rep and that he flew into our town regularly to meet with clients, but often was left with nothing to do in hotel rooms in the evenings and sometimes during the day when appointments got cancelled and he was left filling in time.

And that was the case today. He was just in town for the day, but one appointment had been cancelled, and he had an hour until the next, so he had emailed me, and now we were about to meet.

My dog was barking like crazy, knowing there was someone at the front door, and excited that she was going to meet someone new after weeks of meeting hardly anyone.

"Don't worry about the dog," I called though the door. "She's just happy to meet you."

"I'm not worried," came the muffled reply from the other side of the door.

So I opened the door to meet this new hook-up.

"You must be Jason," I greeted him, "and I'm Tom. Come on in!"

He stepped in and I closed the door behind him. Muffin, my little Yorkie, was leaping up excitedly, wanting to be acknowledged and patted. The young man reached down and patted her, speaking to her, and calming her, and she sat, wagging all over looking at her new friend.

"Call me Jay," he said. "It's what I mostly go by." He bent once more to pet Muffin. Love my dog and you're automatically my friend.

It gave me a chance to look Jay over. He was, as he had said in his emails, good-looking. I suppose you might also say, as he had, that he was "toned," but could afford to lose a few pounds for the description to be really accurate. Bending as he was showed off his nice buns. I hoped I would stay hard enough to get my cock between them. And when he stood, he had another pleasing bulge in his rather tight slacks.

"We'll go downstairs to my 'playroom'," I told him. "Otherwise Muffin there will drive us crazy." I led Jay downstairs to the basement bedroom I use just for sexual hookups and games. It has a bathroom right beside it and is perfect for a little bit of fun.

As soon as we were in the playroom, Jay reached out and drew me to him. He put his mouth to mine and kissed me. I was surprised. Many casual hook-ups are not into kissing. When I responded with an open mouth, his tongue leapt into action. And so did my cock. The Triple-P I had injected into my dick before Jay's arrival was taking effect. Jay could feel my hard cock pressing against him through our clothes, and reached between us and squeezed it.

In no time at all we were stripping our clothes off. He was just in jeans and shirt, and, beneath those, trendy underwear, which accentuated and showed off his package. When he dropped his shorts, his cock sprang free. It was not the "well-hung" cock that his emails had promised, but never-the-less a quite adequate uncut five-inches with a very pronounced upward bend.

My own cock was much the same five inches, down from the seven inches pre-prostate surgery, after much of the shaft had retreated into the cavity left by my prostate. I regretted the loss, but at least I was alive and cancer-free. I regretted more the loss of the rock-hard erections of yore, but was content enough with the imitation hards produced by the injected medications. However, sometimes the meds worked well, sometimes they didn't. Right now they seemed to be working well. My cock stood out like a little tent-pole, and Jay fondled it, then dropped to his knees on the rug to take it into his mouth.

This boy knew what he was doing. He used his teeth to push back my foreskin, then ran his tongue under my knob, rubbing that most sensitive area right under the knob. After two moths of isolation it was all that I could do no to have an orgasm then and there. Not that I would cum in his mouth. The prostate removal had put an end to all my cumming days, but I still had a pretty good orgasm at times, usually dry but sometimes spurting a little pre-cum fluid mixed with a little piss. I didn't want to piss in his mouth so soon, even if it was only a few drops, so I pulled out of his mouth and suggested we lay on the bed and play a little before going any further.

Stretched out naked together on the bed, we sized each other up. He had a thick thatch of straight black hair covering his chest, except for where fairly large nipples with large aureolas poked through. I soon found that like me, he enjoyed having those nipples played with and pinched — or nibbled.

He seemed to enjoy French-kissing just as much as nipple play, but he soon begged me, "Suck my cock."

I was happy to obliged, and bent over his prone body, trying to take his hard cock with its extreme bend down my throat. The sharp crook made it hard to do so, so I settled for sucking on his knob, rubbing the underside with my tongue as he had done to me. He pulled my left leg over him, so that I was now straddling his face while I sucked on his dick, and I felt his mouth once more cover my own cock. Its warm, wet interior felt so sensuous on my excited rod. Soon I again felt like I would orgasm, so I pulled out of him.

We lay side by side once more. He looked me in the face. "Fuck me," he whispered, and turned face down. My meds had already passed their peak, and my cock was now only semi-hard. I knew I would probably not be able to get into his tight hole, but I was willing to try. I motioned him to kneel on the bottom of the bed, while I took position behind his butt. To increase my chances of putting my dick inside him, I slipped a tight cockring on my cock, in an attempt to stop the blood from escaping and destroying any hard-on I might have accomplished. I lubed up his ass, as worked a finger inside him. He seemed to accept that pretty easily, so I added a second finger. His hole was pretty tight, and I added a third finger to try to stretch him open a bit.

"Stick your dick in me," he asked, "but go slow. I've only been fucked once before." This was news to me. I had assumed he had been around a bit, but this explained why he was so tight.

I put some lube on my dick and positioned myself. "Hold your hole open," I told him. Kneeling there, face down on the bed, he reached behind himself to open his hole for me. I aimed my swollen cock ay his rosebud and pushed forward.

But, between my softening dick and his tight, tight hole, it was a losing battle. My cock would just not go into him. I apologized.

"Do you have any dildoes?" he asked. I certainly did. I brought out a selection from a drawer of a dresser right there in the playroom. He selected a strap-on with a slim, five-inch imitation cock. It was not very realistic, more of black silicone tube with a rounded end. But it would do the job.

Jay returned to a kneeling position on the bed and I once again go behind him, now wearing the strap-on. The dildo slipped into him fairly easily but after the fist couple of inches I had to take is slowly while he adjusted to it. Before long, it was fully buried in his welcoming asshole. I pumped at him with it at various rhythms and speeds for several minutes, all of them eliciting moans of pleasure from the young man. At last his cramped knees began to hurt him and he begged me to stop.

"Wow! I needed that," he cried as he flopped back down on the bed.

"Your turn to fuck me," I told him, as I slopped a little lube on my ass and his hard, bent dick.

"I'll try," he said weekly, "but I've never fucked anyone before," he confessed. "Mostly it's been hand jobs or blowjobs."

"There's always a first time," I told him, as I kneeled in the same position that he had taken earlier.

"Should I wear a condom?" he asked.

"There's not too much chance of HIV," I told him. "I'm on PrEP." Jay didn't know what it was, so I had to give him a quick lesson before he eventually positioned behind me. But his dick had lost its hardness. The fear of fucking an ass had taken it away. The extreme bend near the tip didn't help either. He was completely unable to get his cock in me.

He was almost crying as he admitted defeat.

"Don't let it bother you," I assured him. "There's always another time." But I did convince him to jack off on my cock, which he did with not too much effort and I used his cum to beat off with right there in front of him. Cum makes great lube, especially when It's someone else's. I orgasmed with just a tiny squirt of pre-cum/piss, which rather intrigued Jay. He dipped his finger in it and tasted it.

"Tastes OK," he admitted. "Next time you can come in my mouth … if there's gonna be a next time," he added ruefully. I assured him that he would be welcome back again on any of his business trips, and that maybe we would have better luck with our fucking.

He departed like an old friend. I knew I would see him again someday soon.

But it was not until three days later that I began to regret our tryst!

That morning I woke up with a sore throat and a runny nose, the usual signs of any old cold. But by noon I also have a hacking cough. I took my own temperature with a digital thermometer. It was over 100 degrees Fahrenheit.

It was then that I thought back to Jay's visit!

"Oh, No!" I thought to myself. "What a fucking idiot I am!"

I phoned the hospital, as covid bulletins had told us to do. I was told that if I was able, I was to go to Emergency and they would direct me from there.

I have to admit I was rather nervous as I arrived at the Emergency entrance of the local hospital. All visitors to the hospital were directed away from the main entrance and to the emergency entrance if they were showing any signs of covid-19 — not that there were many visitors. Most people were still avoiding the hospitals and clinics in fear that medical places would the most likely to harbour people with the virus.

A young female nurse was stationed there to greet me and others like me, and to re-direct us even further to the ambulance entrance which had been reassigned to a receiving area for Covid suspects such as I. She was quite pleasant, but rather daunting in her mask and gloves and taking pains not to get too close to me. She proffered me a tray with a mask and asked me to put the mask on before I proceeded. She used a pager to announce my presence to those at my next stop. She asked my name and date of birth and entered that information on the keyboard of a laptop in front of her. "Still at 4700 Joyce Avenue?" she asked. Obviously, she had pulled up my medical records on her terminal. "Go on round to the ambulance entrance," she told me. "They'll be ready for you there."

Donning the mask, I walked around the side of the building to the next entrance, the ambulance entrance, now the Covid entrance. A tall, dark-haired young doctor in the ubiquitous mask greeted me. I thought I saw his eyes twinkle a little when he first saw me.

"Come on in," he said. "This won't take long. We just need to take a swab for testing, then we'll send you home again to isolate and wait for the results."

He motioned for me to take a seat on a stool beside a bench with sterile looking instruments on it.

"Do you have any questions about the procedure, Mister Wilson?" he asked.

"Not really, doctor," I replied. "I just want to find out whether I really have Covid-19."

He chuckled. "Don't let the scrubs and mask and stethoscope fool you," he told me. "I'm not a doctor. I'm not even a nurse. I was studying Nursing in the city when this epidemic first broke out. I was one of the first to actually get the virus at the nursing hospital. I recovered quickly and came on home to this town to volunteer my services. As I am probably now immune, they took me on gladly."

"So, I'm really just a student. In fact, I was one of your students at one time."

This announcement stunned me. It's true, I had been an English teacher here in this town, but I had been retired 20 years.

"I was in your Grade 12 English class in 1999," he informed me. "You probably don't remember me? Clint Parsons?"

The name did ring a couple of bells, but they rang up an image of a scrawny, pimply kid, not a handsome young stud like this man. I did some quick calculations. He would have been 16 in my class. He was now probably around 36 years old.

"I vaguely remember you," I told him, "but it's been a long time."

"Yes, a long time, but I still have warm memories of you," he told me, making me blush a little. "Open wide," he told me, then took a swab from the back of my throat. "This next one will be a little uncomfortable," he warned me. "Tilt you head back and stay very still," he instructed.

He held my head still while he carefully inserted a new swab into my left nostril. I felt it probing deep into my sinus cavities and scraping the sides. I had an urge to sneeze it out, but then it was withdrawn.

"That's the most uncomfortable part over," Clint Parsons informed me. "Now I just need to get a little more information from you." He took up a clipboard with some forms and a pen.

"Now, if you test positive, we have to know where you might have contracted the virus. Who have you been in close contact with lately?"

I hesitated a long time before trying to answer. How did I explain that my only possible contact was a gay guy I hooked up with for sex? Who said his name was Jason Kool but whose real name I didn't even know? I was going to lie, and say I didn't have any idea, but then I realized that that might put others at risk.

I blurted out: "It was just a guy I hooked up with on DoubleList."

"DoubleList?" he asked.

"It's a substitute for Craig's List because they don't take Personals any more," I told him. "Gay guys use it to find hook-ups."

I saw him smile and ever-so-small smile. Was he laughing at me?

"So you are gay and you had sex with this man?" he stated.

"Yes," I confirmed, defiantly.

"Well," Clint Parsons said matter-of-factly, "he probably didn't give you his real name, but we may be able to track him thought his email address if it turns out your tests are positive."

"But as for now, that's about all we can do for you right now. Go on home. Rest. Look after yourself as you would for any other cough, cold, and fever. If it gets worse, or you have trouble breathing, call the Covid Emergency number immediately. Do you have it?"

I assured him that I did.

"As soon as we have your results we'll contact you to tell you what to do next. Most of all, isolate yourself. Don't admit friends or family at this stage. There may be someone checking up on you to make sure you are isolating," he warned me. "It's been really good to see you again, Mr. Wilson," he said, then against all protocols, I am sure, Clint reached out and gave me a warm hug. I drew back, startled.

"Don't worry," he said. "Remember, I'm probably immune now, and I have been wanting to do that since high school!" he confessed.

Confused, I made my way back home and put myself to bed with hot lemon, honey and aspirin, as I would with a normal cough and cold. Muffin, glad to have me home again, curled up beside me.I fell into a sweaty sleep, filled with naked men, doctors, hospitals, male nurses, and more naked men.

When I awoke, it was six pm, and I was feeling much better. My runny nose was gone, as was the hacking cough, although my throat was still a little sore. I took my temperature again. It was below a hundred and close to normal.

I realized I had not eaten all day, and had just started to make myself a sandwich when the doorbell rang. Remembering Clint's warnings, I went to the door, but didn't open it. Muffin, as usual, was going crazy at the prospect of a visitor.

"Who's there?" I called through the closed door, over the dog's yapping. "I'm in quarantine and can't open the door."

"It's OK," came the answer. "It's just me, Clint Parsons. I told you someone might be coming to check on you. Well, that someone is me!" My heart gave a little jump. The thought of that hot young nurses' aide in my house started the juices flowing. I opened the door a crack. Sure enough, Clint was standing there in civvies, but still wearing a surgical mask.

"I'm isolating like you said," I told him.

"While I'm here maybe I should check you over a little more," he suggested. Hmm. The thought intrigued me. I opened the door wider to allow him in. My front door led straight into the living room. Muffin was running in circles around Clint's feet. I was at first a little embarrassed, because some of my artwork furnishings were obviously gay. A Steve Walker print of a half-naked young man. Another Steve Walker print of a young man admiring the naked statued of David. A very phallic hermaphroditic statue of Naked Victory. But then I remember that I had already admitted to him that I had recently had a sexual hook-up with a gay man, that I was gay.

"I'm feeling much better, " I told him. "I think maybe it was a false alarm." Muffin had calmed down my now, and settled herself in her favorite armchair.

"Probably," he agreed, "but it won't hurt to check you over a bit. Sit yourself down." He motioned me to the only upright chair in the room. All the others were deep armchairs.

"First, Mr. Wilson …" he began.

"Call me Tom!" I told him. "We're a long way out of school these days."

"Thank you, Tom. And you please call me Clint. Now, as I was saying, would you please slip off your shirt so I can take a listen to your breathing."

I had already noticed the stethoscope protruding from the back pocket of his jeans. As I slipped off my shirt, he drew out the stethoscope and put it on, then placed the metal pad to my chest. He was bent over me. His face was only inches from mine. I pulled down his mask. He looked surprised, but didn't replace it. I could feel his hot breath on my cheek. Glancing down, I could see an interesting bulge in the crotch of his pants. I couldn't help myself. I reached up and kissed him on the lips. He pulled back, stunned. I pulled back embarrassed.

A big smile above the mask still covering part of his chin made his eyes twinkle and wrinkle at the corners. He gave me a big wink! He laughed.

"It's been more than just a hug I've wanted from you since high school," he told me. "I've always wanted you to kiss me … and more …" he confessed. "I'm not here in a professional capacity," he added. "I'm here because I have been able to think of nothing but you since early this afternoon. I've had a constant hard-on thinking of you," he admitted. "You don't know how many times I left your classroom and went straight to the washrooms to jerk off in one of the cubicles," he told me.

Now he brought his face close to mine again, and this time we joined our mouths in a hot mutual kiss, our tongues seeking each other wetly.

My dick, even as damaged as it was, stirred in my pants, swelled. It was as close a to a real hard-on as I had come in years. By now he was sitting on my lap in that chair as we continued to kiss. I know he could feel the lump in my pants.

"Let's go to your bedroom," he whispered. I started to tell him about my erectile problems, but he shushed me with another kiss. "Don't worry," he told me. "I've read your files. I know all about your problems, but they don't bother me. I'm sure we'll work something out." I didn't bother taking him downstairs to my playroom. I was too hot to trot for that. I closed the bedroom door behind us, shutting Muffin out. She would want to join in the games that men play.

I just had to drop my sweatpants and I was naked — and as erect as I was even likely to be. It took Clint a little longer to discard his t-shirt, jeans, and shoes and socks. He was wearing no underpants. Then we were on my crumpled bed, tumbling together, straining against each other as we kissed and panted, rubbing our swollen dicks together. His uncut dick was longer than mine, but thinner. But it was also rock-hard, unlike mine, which was tumescent, but not really HARD.

He was playing with my swollen cock. "Do you want me to inject it with my meds to maybe get it a bit harder?" I asked.

"Not really," he replied. "Next time, maybe. Right now I just want to be with you. After all, I've waited 20 years for this."

He was right. And if all went well, we had plenty of time, especially if it turned out that I did not have covid-19. I pulled him to me, felt his hard cock against my stomach. I suddenly felt the need to have his dick inside me.

"You fuck me," I whispered in his ear.

"I'd love to, if you're feeling up to it," he agreed.

"I'm feeling better than I've felt in ages," I said. There's condoms in the nightstand drawer if you want one."

"No need," he assured me, "I know from your file that you are on PrEP, and so am I. Just some lube." He found that in the drawer I had mentioned. A quick slather along his stiff penis.

I started to roll over onto my stomach, but he stopped me.

"No! This way! Face to face," he told me. He knelt between my spread legs and wriggled in toward me, pointing his rigid cock toward my balls, then he lifted my legs, putting one calf over each shoulder. A little more wriggling and his cock-head was touching my hole. It was my turn to wriggle, pushing down toward him, eager to have his cock inside me. Another little push on his part, and I felt his cock-head enter my ass, forcing my sphincter muscle open to swallow the knob. Another push, and his head slipped completely into me. Then a big shove, and the whole shaft drove all the way up inside me.

I am not so supple these days, and I found the 'legs-over-shoulders' extremely uncomfortable, putting pressure on my kidneys and bladder. I dropped my legs to Clint's sides then lifted my knees, raising my hole to meet Clint's slow thrusts. My swollen cock slapped back and forth between my belly and his as he pumped into me. Leaning forward, resting on his outstretched arms, he lowered his face toward mine. I bent my head upward to meet his searching mouth, and our tongues played together while we fucked slowly.

"I'll give you an A for Effort," I told him, "with the comment 'Clint puts everything into his work'. " We both laughed at that.

"Can I put my cum into you, too?" he asked.

"Of course," I whispered back. "Always finish your homework properly!"

He increased the pace of his riding me, and I happily thrust upwards to meet him. We were pounding against each other at the hips, his rod driving deep inside me. I felt the first shiver run through his whole body as a spasm sent a squirt of semen deep into my bowels, then another, and another, and another. Would he never stop coming?

At last he was done, and he collapsed on top of me, both laughing as we gasped for breath. "Wow!" he panted. "That was fantastic."

"For me too," I agreed as he rolled off me to lay beside me.

"I'd better go," he told me. "I'm working another shift tonight for a friend. Is it OK if I drop by to check on you again tomorrow?"

"OK? No, it's essential that you do. I'll need another injection of your special medicine," I joked.

"And maybe you can inject your other meds into your cock, so you can inject your cock into me," Clint suggested.

"I promise!

Muffin danced about us excitedly when we emerged from the bedroom. She even wanted to go with Clint when I saw him to the door.

"I think she likes you," I told him. "I know I do!"

Clint came back the next day, as promised, and I managed to fuck him with my medically-induced hard-on, as promised.

We repeated the same the next day, and on the third day, he phoned from the hospital. "Your results just came back," he told me. "There's no sign of covid-19. You're clean."

"Well, we'll have to celebrate. Come round after work and we'll decide just how we'll do it."

"I'm pretty sure I already know," he laughed. He was right!

And today, a week later, we took a water taxi to a small island just off the coast here. It has many little secret sandy beaches, and we spent the whole day all by ourselves on one of them, swimming, sunbathing, playing with Muffin, and making love. It's decided. Tomorrow Clint is moving in with me and Muffin. We are going to isolate together to ride out this pandemic.

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