How the Corona Virus
Jump-Started My Sex Life
By:
Kenneth Kirk
(© 2020 by the author)
The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's
consent. Comments are appreciated at...
kkirk@tickiestories.us
Chapter 1
Background
I think you might need a little background before we get into my story. I’ll try to be brief and focused, so we can quickly get on to the good stuff.
My name is Calvin Christensen and I am a life-long resident of Las Cruces, NM, which is the home of New Mexico State University, a good engineering school, but too close to family, if you get me. So, I opted to attend the University of New Mexico in the big city of Albuquerque. I know some of you wouldn’t consider that a big city, but with about 600,000 people it is huge compared to the 100,000 or so who call Cruces home. My family is comfortable, but not wealthy.
At the time of the Coronavirus pandemic, I had just celebrated my 19th birthday and was living in a dorm room with Bert (more about him later) and majoring in biology. It was the spring of my freshman year and I was happy to be 225 miles from home, living at UNM.
My dad (Marvin) turned 44 recently and is a lawyer with his own small firm. They do family law stuff like divorces, pre-nups, child custody agreements, wills, and not much else. He’s got a partner, Geoff Overmeyer, who is about 6 years younger than Dad and quite a handsome man. And they have a much younger lawyer working for them. Her name is Francine Cordero and she’s only a few years out of law school. I’ve never had much to do with his firm, but my sister does some clerical work sometimes.
Mom (Birgitta) is a stay-at-home mother, but she’s also a romance novel writer with something like 20 books to her credit. I can’t believe my conservative mom spends so much time thinking up those trashy “ripped bodice” story lines. I would wonder if she has experienced any of the stuff she puts in her books but I don’t want to think about Mom that way. I’ll admit it was great to have her at home all the time when I was growing up.
My sister Caroline (Carrie, for short), is 16 going on 35, which turns my dad into a complete moron sometimes when he starts trying to keep her from “growing up too fast.” Being a little older and knowing boys like I do, I sympathize with the old man and I’m just glad Carrie isn’t my responsibility.
The youngest in the family is my brother Cole, who is about to turn 13 and is really obnoxious about becoming a teenager. I’m sure I was not at all like that. But he’s cool and I think will grow up to be a real heartbreaker.
And the last member of the family is Grandma Grace, Mom’s 75-year-old mother. Grandma is pretty cool, I have to admit. It doesn’t matter what trouble I ever got into, she was always saying, “Forget it, Birgitta! He’s a great kid. We all make the occasional mistake. Why, I remember the time you…” She would fill in the blank with some ominous-sounding suggestion that would prompt Mom to deny it loudly and change the subject, getting me effectively off the hook for my transgression. Grandma would smile and wink at me and I would know she was my best protector. Grandma has lived with us for about 10 years now, ever since Grandpa met his maker on the seventh hole at Miramar when his putt went into the sand trap for the second time and he got so mad he stroked out. Yeah, I know it’s funny … now. But we weren’t laughing much then. Grandma is in pretty good health except for some arthritis pains and some breathing issues thanks to a lifetime of asthma.
So, that’s my family. I still have a few friends from when I was living in Las Cruces going to school there. My best friend from about 5th grade on was Joseph Escondido, who always had my back and was the best … You know, Joseph has no impact on this story, except for one incident, so I think I will just go directly to that incident and save you some time.
I have known since I was about 7-years-old that I like to look at guys who are cute, handsome, or wearing revealing clothes. I’ve known since I was about 9 or 10 that I was who the other guys were referring to when they were ridiculing some other kid for being a faggot. But, I kept that as my big secret, never telling anyone including Joseph. So, I came to the university as an 18-year-old complete virgin having never touched another human being of any gender in a sexual way, unless you consider a 1-second connection between my shoulder and the back of Larry Sanderson’s hand when we were beating off together (along with Mike Drake and Ricardo Velasquez) to a porn video belonging to Mike’s brother. Just as his orgasm hit, Larry threw his hand back, making the connection with my shoulder. But for me, I wasn’t interested in girls and I was so fearful of the repercussions of letting my interest in guys be known by anyone that I desperately hid my lusts from everyone, rather successfully apparently.
So, now we come to the advent of the Coronavirus in the late winter of 2020.
Campus Changes
Like the rest of the world, we heard about this weird new virus several months earlier, but it was just in some god-forsaken place called Wuhan, until it wasn’t. It seemed sudden to me, but it went from this isolated zone of contagion to a scary, world-wide epidemic in, like, 2 weeks or so. By the beginning of March there were rumors that sports events would be cancelled and maybe even classes.
On March 12, right before our Spring Break was scheduled to begin, the NCAA cancelled the national basketball tournament. Die-hard Lobos fans cried like it was the end of the world, no matter the number of sick and dying was mounting by the day.
“Holy fuck!” my roommate Bert exclaimed. “Do you know how much money the NCAA will lose on that?” Before I could guess, he went on. “They’re really taking this virus shit seriously, huh?”
Jessie, who was our neighbor down the hall popped in later to say, “I hear the University is going to close.”
Cindy, one of Bert’s high school friends from Los Alamos, called him to see if he would give her a ride home for Spring Break. She went on for a long time about the ridiculousness of the idea of self-isolation she’d been hearing. “They expect me to stay at home and not see Blake? I don’t think so!”
“Oh, Cindy,” Bert laughed, “you can live without his big ole cock for a while.”
“Hell, no!” she giggled. “Gotta keep that itch in my vagina scratched!”
Bert laughed so hard he dropped the phone.
I was planning to take a Greyhound to Las Cruces on Saturday for the start of Spring Break. I wasn’t particularly looking forward to a week at home, but there wasn’t much else on my agenda. After dinner that night, I called to talk with Mom.
“Honey,” she said, “your dad and I have talked about you coming home for break and, well, we don’t think you should.”
It took a second for that to sink in. “Huh? You don’t want me to come home?”
“Well,” she waffled, “we do want you to come home, but it’s not a good idea. The virus, you know?”
“I’m not sick.”
“You don’t know that you aren’t. I mean, you’re around a ton of people all the time in your classes and your dorm. You’d be crammed on the bus with all sorts of people. We can’t take the chance that you might bring it to Grandma. You know her breathing isn’t very good anyhow.”
I hadn’t thought of that, but I understood her concern. “Okay, sure, I’ll just stay here, I guess. No sweat.” That really wouldn’t be so bad, I thought. Get a jump on some class assignments. Sleep. Porn.
Sexy Stranger
Bert left on Saturday morning and most everybody else was gone by Saturday evening. By that night, I didn’t think anyone else was still on my floor.
About 5:30 I heard someone coming down the hall knocking on every door and calling out, “Anybody here?” I wondered if I was about to be tossed out into the street or get some more bad news.
Before he reached my door, I opened it and stepped up to the doorway. I was pleased to see it was the hot guy from room 315, not a campus cop or other official. I didn’t know this guy’s name, but I had been getting furtive looks at him whenever I could since September.
He looked up at me and gave me a big, friendly grin. “Oh, man, am I glad to see you!”
Taking in his handsome face framed by his sexy dark hair worn short on the sides and curly on the top, his smoking-hot neatly trimmed 4-day stubble, and his pearly teeth, I was caught off-guard. I could not prevent my gaze from dropping across a neon-yellow tank that hugged his meaty pecs and tight abs, revealing sexy dark curls escaping at the edges, to rest on his groin, a full mound of balls and cock encased in gray spandex workout shorts strained by powerful thighs covered with more of that sexy hair.
After several seconds, I realized I was telegraphing my attraction to him in a very dangerous fashion. With no one around to help me, he could easily beat me to a pulp and blow my carefully constructed façade right off, outing me to my whole world. Profoundly worried, I pulled my sight from that very exciting display of male sexuality back up to check his expression to see if he was as furious as I expected.
When I finally focused my sight on his face, he had cocked his head to one side a bit and met my eyes with his somewhat surprised gaze. I realized his eyes were not the pools of darkness I expected given his hair color. No, they were light brown bordering on amber, a shade of eyes I had not seen before. “Fuck,” I breathed as I encountered a fresh wave of attraction; no, hell, it was a tsunami of animal lust. I’d never seen a live human being I wanted as much as I wanted him. Shit, I thought, this is so damned dangerous!
“Fuck?” he echoed in a quiet, questioning voice. His eyebrows narrowed and his brow crinkled a little as he stared intensely into my face. There was no trace of anger, only the look of someone suddenly presented with a great mystery. This perfect specimen of masculinity was obviously not furious at me. He was curious about me.
Involuntarily, my head bent slightly as I snuck another peak at his magnetic crotch.
“Oh my god, man!” this stud muttered in a smoky sexy voice. “You didn’t just lick your lips!”
To be continued...
Posted: 07/24/2020