Coronavirus Diary - Day 01

Since his wife died five years ago, Tim had lived alone in a large, well-appointed village home. A former solicitor, he was comfortable financially, and still fit enough to do a bit of gardening.

Now aged 72 and with no children or other close relatives, like many, he was unprepared for a pandemic. He no longer drove a car and depended on local supermarket deliveries for his day to day needs. Unfortunately, due to the overwhelming demand, these services were no longer reliable.

Provisions were running low. His cleaner was unavailable due to the 'lock-down' and his neighbours were all elderly themselves. However, he was a frequent user of the internet and decided to search for local options.

After several disappointing leads, he came across an intriguing company, based in the nearby town.

On the surface, it appeared to be similar to several others he had examined: A private home-care service for the elderly. The web site was rather more polished, with lots of photos and endorsements.

He was somewhat surprised to learn that they only cared for male clients, over the age of 65. He was also taken aback by the hourly rates - £50! with a minimum provision of six hours per week.

A ridiculous amount. He only paid his cleaner £8 per hour! Nevertheless, the web site continued to hold his attention. There were lots of photos showing attractive, uniformed female care nurses, mostly in their forties or fifties.

Unusually, clients were able to select a carer, based on their individual photos and personal profile. He couldn't resist, and began to sift through the options, purely as a 'theoretical' exercise.

The personal profile pages were more detailed, including several photos, family status, and detailed feedback from satisfied gentlemen.

He kept coming back to one lady in particular. A pretty woman in her early forties with long dark hair and a 'comely' figure. How nice it would be to have her company! That uniform - so tight, with black pantyhose and shiny heels.

He couldn't help himself. He pulled out his old penis and quickly masturbated to her enticing images. Disgusted with himself, he went to bed. Despite himself, the images kept returning to his mind.

After a disturbed night, he determined to contact the agency. Surely it was worth a go!

He was informed that his chosen carer was in demand, but would be available initially, for two weekly visits of three hours. He swallowed hard and paid in advance for an initial trial of four weeks. (over a thousand pounds!)

He put the phone down, excitedly and put the dates in his diary. Her first visit was only two days away. He must do his best to tidy up!

Coronavirus diary Day 3

He watched eagerly at the window, anticipating the arrival of Mrs Hendry, his chosen carer. She was 20 minutes late when her car turned into my driveway. Unusually for someone in a relatively 'lowly' occupation, she was driving a fairly new Mercedes.

Standing back from the window, he watched her emerge from the car and make her way to the front door. She carried a small suitcase and wore a black cape over her uniform and sported a matching black 'pillbox' hat with a veil, covering her face. His eyes wandered towards her legs, sheathed in dark nylon, accompanied by black patent leather high heels. Lovely!

He quickly recovered my composure and went to open the door. She held out her hand and I shook it.

'Mr Symonds?' she asked, 'I'm Mrs Hendry, from the agency. How do you do?'

'Very well thank you. did you manage to find me OK?'

She smiled, 'Yes, I'm quite used to finding my way around these country lanes.'

As she spoke, she unbuttoned her cape and handed it to him.

'Could you find somewhere to hang this Mr Symonds?'

'Oh, well, yes, I'll put it in the cloakroom, just here.'

She watched as I carefully draped her cloak over a hanger.

'I'm sorry for my lateness, but my last gentleman needed an extra treatment. Is there perhaps somewhere we can go to discuss your own situation?'

He led the way into the drawing room and they sat opposite each other. Again, he couldn't help peeking at her legs as she made herself comfortable.

She went on to question his situation, expectations, health issues and mobility. She explained that because of the pandemic she would need a key to the house and a room, perhaps a bedroom, where she could change and prepare.

Everything was agreed and he showed her to what had been his wife's dressing room.

'Perfect! Now, If you'll just allow me half an hour, I'll prepare for the day's care.'

She ushered him out of the room and he returned downstairs, with much to think about. She was very charming, but he'd been somewhat surprised by her 'assertiveness'. Still, there was no doubt about it, she had a certain 'aura!'

She eventually entered the drawing room, carrying a tray. 'Here we are Mr Symonds, I've made us a nice cup of tea. I'm afraid that we'll have to keep our distance for most of the time - two meters isn't it?' she chuckled.

She had added a shiny ankle length blue apron to her outfit. He was sure it was made from latex. Also he noticed she was wearing blue latex gloves. What he couldn't miss however, was the transparent protective face visor. Behind this he could see clearly that her face was freshly made up with shiny red lipstick and what he recognised as heavily-applied cosmetics and expensive perfume.

'Now, why don't we put together your shopping list? I can bring your items with me on my next visit.'

When they had finished, she cleared the dishes before returning with a small bag.

The agency insist for everyone's safety, that we check our gentlemen for symptoms of the virus, Mr Symonds. I have observed that you do not seem to have a cough, but I must take you temperature.

'Yes of course.' he replied.

She stood up and took a thermometer from her bag. He looked up and opened his mouth.

She smiled. 'Oh, sorry, no, I should have explained. The agency insist on an accurate measurement. I have to carry out the procedure anally. Now, if you could just stand up for me and drop your trousers and underpants, this shouldn't take long.'

Flabbergasted and flustered, almost trance-like, he did as he was told. She instructed him to kneel on the sofa and to hold his bottom cheeks apart.

He could hardly believe what was happening, but she had such an air of professionalism and authority, like a child, he followed her wishes.

She stood behind him, applying gel to the thermometer, then to his anus. Carefully, she began to insert the thin object into his rectum.

'There we are, that wasn't so bad was it? You'll need to stay there for ten minutes.'

With that she sat down with a full and open view of his naked backside.

She got up occasionally to adjust the thermometer, almost whispering to him, words of encouragement.

Finally it was over and he was allowed to dress.

'It's a little higher than normal, Mr Symonds. Not to worry, I'll check you again when I return on Thursday with your shopping.'

She prepared them a light lunch which they ate together in the kitchen. Despite everything, he had to admit, it was a real pleasure to be in the company of such a confident, desirable woman.

All too soon, it was time for her to change and depart. Her car had barely disappeared from view before he was stroking his cock.