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"A Shot of Cortisone."

I must tell you of two extraordinary phone-calls I received yesterday.

Let me hasten to tell you that both were extremely surprising and the consequences of both conversations were nothing less than amazing and - as events turned out - totally enjoyable, and then some!

It was about eleven-thirty of a not-so-sunny Winter-morning and a moment ago I had decided to have an early lunch-break.I had finished dealing with 43 e-mails (!) on my inbox. It was not difficult to tear myself away from my computer as my right-arm had begun to suffer again from the pain I had been complaining of recently.

And the telephone rang. The voice was quiet and I asked him - it was a man - to speak up.
He cleared his voice and said: "My name is Albert, is your family physician Don...? And before I can go any further, would you tell me your name and patient number, please, just to make sure I speak with the person I want to speak to. I am a physiotherapist and Don has referred you to me for further inspection or treatment if needed..."

I hastened to tell the man that Don was indeed not my doctor but my nephew, who happened to be a family physician, a GP they say in New Zealand, and I might have talked to him about me needing a physio...

"Oh, " he coughed a bit, but now almost insisted he see me. As I needed a physio anyway, it suited me to a tee when he proposed to come and visit.

He happened to be in my neighbourhood, he said, had half an hour free, and wondered if I would allow him to make a housecall instead of me making an appointment [ which I had not known anything about anyway !!! ] to see him in his practice-rooms.

In New Zealand you invite anybody, who calls or phones around the midday-break, for a beer, cup of tea or coffee.

I did, and I could hear Albert grin while he said:" You picked up the habit, then, but I did not try and impose on you." After 45 years in this country you pick up a few local habits, don't you ?

"You're saving me a trip." I replied, " so, impose away young man."

In the event I had reason to be grateful, not only for the imposition and his medical expertise, but also the ensuing treatment of my condition, a rather painful shoulder.

A six-footer, crew-cut, muscular, body-builder. Late twenties and he smelled good, cedar or pine, I think.All very evident, but what was surprising was that boyish smile under the one cocked eyebrow.

"So you're that famous dancer then," he said bluntly.

At 85 one's dancing years are long over, I explained to him.

"Where can I have a look at you... How about on the dining table, ah, good, the blades extend to full length."

Very brisk, he was, pulled out a padded sheet from his backpack and threw it over the table, and gestured with that smile for me to lie down, easing my head on one of the cushions he retrieved from the couch.

He looked on a card and mused: "Right shoulder, OK, let's see, no I'll do that, want to see how you wriggle out of your shirt while lying down, heard of ergonomics in emergencies ?"
I said I had, and squirmed and grimaced without reticence, damn painful to get the long sleeve off the ailing arm.

He made me sit up and laid his hands on my shoulderblades.

I recoiled and he said:"Sorry, cold hands, can I..." and I motioned to the kitchenette where he held his hands under the hotwater tap. "This better ?" he asked, and I revelled at the firm probing fingers that were so soft all the same.

He made me lie down on my belly and move the arms up and fold my hands behind my neck.
Very sore!

But that moment I began to I remember Don, me having my arms crossed behind my neck and he his fingers travelling all over me, feeling totally vulnerable then and panting in anticipation for what eventually became a delight of undreamt-of proportions...

At the very moment I was thinking of Don, (my doctor-nephew, but not my family physician,) my cell phone rang.

Only seven people in this universe know and can use its number: my four children, scattered throughout the world, the local police, the local ambulance service and my nephew [ my dreamboat, and recently my declared lover! And how that came about ? Ah, that is another story... ]

My hair got to stand on end - so to speak, for I am as bald as an egg - when Albert handed me my cell-phone with an inquisitive frown and that boyish smile on his face.

"It's Don," I said, forcing myself to be audible," he wants you !" handing Albert my cell phone, my face agape in amazement.

I heard Albert say a curt "Yup, just looking at it, contusion, deep, could be rheumatoid, but don't think so...

Cortisone injection ? Nah, don't think so, did you make an X-ray ? No..., well why not, if you have the time now while I am here. Just ask him..." and he returned the cell phone to me, motioning me to listen.

And that dark, silken voice that never fails to give me a hard-on, asked if I would mind if he'd come and see me while Albert was in attendance - "In attendance," he did say that - and I asked "Why ? Do you think that necessary ?" and I heard that ominous and amazing reply of "Under the current circumstances it is my considered opinion that it is eminently necessary..."

He always speaks as if addressing a city council...!

My ears were ringing, while I held my hand on my crotch, trying to hide my erection from Albert's view. Albert took my phone and spoke in it :" Yup, it'sokay..." and that boyish smile turned into a grin when he said:

"Yup, Don's voice has the same effect on me..." lifting my protective hand and putting his hand on my throbbing groin. His looks turned from half-non-committal to raised-eyebrow-amazement when he pulled down my underpants and held my cock, whilst I, totally losing control roughly fiddled with his trousers, pulled down the zip and pushed my hand in his trousers, as if needing to be convinced of whether Don's voice had excited him as much as it had me.

It had...

We did not lose much time after that, when we had the beginnings of a lusty 69-er !
He, crouching on the dining table and I, lying on my back, returning the favours of his salivating lips on my groin.

And I was not wrong, he smelled so good, for he was clean, meticulously so, or had, premeditatedly, a cleansing shower before embarking on his adventure at my place.

Both he, and Don, were scheming rascals I found out soon.

I did not complain at the time. I am not complaining now, and I am telling you for nothing that I am enjoying what I am writing down for you.

With hearing-aids switched on, one can hear much more than is normal, for healthy ears can switch off noises they do not want to hear, but one tends to loose that capacity when using hearing aids.
I heard the back-door key turn quietly. Albert did not.

His gymnastic ability showed up prodigiously though, in a great swing he lept from knee-high on my dining table to a crouching position on the floor beside me, who was still lying on the table, lips still pursed (!).

"Ye Gods an'lu'll fushes..." he exclaimed, " what ya doin'that for, man, ya gummedacreeps, sneakin'up on me like that..." and they, Don and Albert, burst out guffawing while I scrambled up to a sitting position, feet dangling from my heretofore innocent dining table-top. They were soon in a tightly groping and undulating embrace.

"Join the club." I smirked.

"We will," said Don quickly.

In fact his searing tongue wandered from nipple to nipple to navel to my breathless mouth while his cold hands fondled me where I wanted him to fondle me. And Albert stood by, broadly smiling, massaging his own penis enthusiastically.

"You made a lovely couple," Don said with a grin, "mind if I join, I have a couple of hours... OK with you ?" he motioned to Albert, who replied:" You know me, ol' man, always make time for important things..."

That was when the penny dropped.

Half an hour, Albert had said.

Half an hour my foot, he had as much time as it would take... Premeditated alright. One could safely say "premedicated" and not be wrong...

"Got him cleaned up?" Don asked Albert, getting me uncomfortable, talking in riddles whilst using good English."Nah, y're too quick on t'ball. Had to get'm fired up first. In a hurry, then, are ya?"
The quality of their conversation made me sure they had been intimate for a considerable time.
My quizzing expression was rewarded with a curt:" Rugby Club, I'm the secretary and Albie's the physio..."

Don, smiling expectantly at me:" Mind if I give you an enema?"

I slided off the dining table, filled the kettle, turned it on and fossicked for a bowl for this doctor to make a mix of the saline solution to be used for enema's.

"Hah," he said, still smiling," we come prepared as we aim to please, kind Sir," as he opened his medic's carry-all, showing six - I'll have you know SIX - bladders of one litre saline solution and two enema syringes, one for me and one for Albert.

"You think of everything," Albert whispered and embraced his loving friend again.
It was good for me they did that, it appeased me, I was nervous to say the least, but they were so matter of fact and reassuring.

The kettle boiled and I was to turn it off when I heard Don say:" What!? No tea ? It's lunch-time, brought some, want some ?" and the mellow flow of his voice rambled on with: " these gymnastics require a replenishment of energy..." and he offered some very nice tomato'n'cucumber sandwiches and a dozen chocolate'n'cream eclairs, with an apologetic: " pity we can't have it on the lawn..." which, I could not help myself, made me lose myself in peals of laughter, having to relieve myself quickly in my toilet, at the end of the corridor...

When I returned Don had made the tea, well-domesticated husband he, and said matter-of-fact: " Here drink that and when you can, here's the enema syringe, you know what to do, three times, remember?"

I did not even blush, I was too excited, these two sybarites - both extremely manly sybarites - knew their onions, they knew the facts of life and the required and familiar techniques, off pat, they say here in New Zealand, and no nonsense.

After some initial fumbling, [I forgot to use the K jelly], I returned, shivering, for I was feeling the cold. Albert went off this time, clutching the saline solution bags, sneering over his shoulder: "Soon enough ya won't feel the cold Oybetcha," while my caring nephew draped Albert's padded bed-spread over me to get warm again.

"When did you jerk off last," Don wanted to know.

"Yesterday morning," I said, not blinking an eyelid.

"Good, think you'll be cumming ?"

"Two or three pints ?" I bragged.

He smiled and said: "You skiting bastard, you never stop t'amaze me, y'know that ?"

I raised my sore arm, trying to test the shoulder joint.

He snuggled up closely, biting my nipples and then licking my open armpit. He knew how to please!!!

And his fingers found my throbbing member, gently caressing it while our burning lips met and our tongues thrusted and parried with great gusto.

"Hey, three can do that too," from Albert who must have been gazing at us.

And he was right. But the young men had other excitement for their ancient host. I told them, trying to impress them, that I was 20 years older than the both of them would have years together, Albie with 27 and Don with 38.

That is why they fell for me, they said, they thought young guys and girls were ok, but they preferred Seniors and perhaps I could introduce them to senior ladies wishing for to be served by willing and potent young blades.

That got the wind out of my sails, I tell you...

Just as well, for this widower without sex for the last eighteen months since the death of his beloved wife, could concentrate now on what these two wanted of me: tell them my pleasure, my erogenous zones, my preferred positions, my preferred action, in fact they wished me to command and they would serve...

I felt as if all my 85 birtdays had come together and needed celebrating; I told them that, they smiled and said: " 'sOK., that's exactly the ticket ol'man..."

The best I could do under the circumstances was to allow them to go exploring, and thus judge by my reaction what I liked or didn't. I am delighted to state that sofar they found nothing I could complain of !

At first Don gave me a marvellous rimming job while Albert licked me all over chest, face and ears.
Then Don asked if he could fuck me, so I raised my legs while he eased himself in, that felt good.
Albert returned to our 69 position of before, and he asked if he could cum in my throat.
The hard suck I gave him was the answer he wanted.

These young men were insatiable, after they each cummed in my body, they quickly cleaned up in the shower, came back to the dining table and started a most beautiful 69, having asked me to use a dildo for each of them, simultaneously !

A gleam of a smile on Albie's face when he said:" 'tWill be guid exercoyse fer your royght arm, mon..."

Ye Gods'n'lu'll fushes alright, these boys were in good form and I felt no pain...

"Hey," thought Don after a while, sipping some luke-warm tea, very refreshing I noted as well,

"haven't given you a blow job yet, come here..." and kneeling in front of me I saw my lover-boy cast an adoring glance upward whilst he enveloped my eager penis with his still warm lips and mouth.

"Don't keep still," urged Albert knowingly," he likes you to push and thrust, he wants you to fuck his mouth."

It did not take long before we found a mutual rhythm, while Albert, crouching behind Don, easing him into a hands-and-knees crawl, massaged and evidently widened Don's ass for final acceptance of his 8 inches, groping with one hand in Don's crotch and the other firmly clawed on the latter's shoulder.

And the Gods were with us ! We cummed! Simultaneously! When our three mouths tried to join in one kiss I saw a tear well up in "my" youngest lover. "Oyveh, emotions already," I thought, but non-committally I wiped Albert's eyes with a handy paper towel. "Gosh, that boy loves me !" I thought and could not hide blushing. They did not notice, I think. But not much later I knew, though. (But that's yet another tale to tell)

"Hmm," opined Doctor Don quietly in that mellifluous voice of his, " we'll have to meet again soon. What do you think, Albie ?"

His reply ?

Youbetcha, and he did not think a cortisone injection was appropriate under the current circumstances.

"Yah," said Don uncharacteristically," always try'n'fix it with a good'n'hard fuck first, votchathunk ?"

"You know what ?" said Albert to me, one eyebrow cocked and that boyish smile breaking through.

"What ?" I asked.

"You may be all of 103 for all I care, but your smile is 20 ! And that prick o'yourn c'n teach me a trick or two."

"Or three," added Don.

When I cleaned up in the bathroom I noticed they had made use of my Givenchy Pour Homme.
I did not mind, they'd have to be fresh for the rest of their day, after all. Lucky old men like me could afford the time to have a shower and an after dinner-or-midday nap. In the mirror, down at the end of the corridor, I noticed in passing I looked like a tom-cat who had found a dish of cream, unexpectedly...

You surprised ?I thought not.

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