“And your kids - and your wife - are they well ?” he asked.He didn’t last very long either. If it was twice as long as me it was still only a minute ! He came with a bucking of his hips and a massive shudder. “You’ve been saving that up, haven’t you !” I said and he agreed, saying he had been looking forward to it for the last three years. I then treated him as he had treated me - gently caressing the softening knob with my lips and spreading his spunk all over his belly. We talked quietly for a few minutes, relaxed and at peace with each other, until we reckoned I would have to go. We agreed we would try to meet once per year and I gave him my new mobile phone number, but I already knew once a year would be too little and that twice would be more likely, however difficult it was to find a time which suited us both. And he remembered to give me the tin of paint, which I might otherwise have forgotten.”It’s great to see you too,” I stammered.Doing the test was quite embarrassing because the sample had to be fresh. When I arrived at the hospital I was given a small, sterilised jar like a jam jar with quite a small opening at the top and told by a nurse to go into a curtained waiting area (with a bed) to produce my sample. Not only was this rather embarrassing but figuring out how to get my first jump into the bottle presented problems because I spurt quite high. In fact I took much longer to cum than usual and I partly missed with my first spurt but managed to get most of the next - and the next - into the glass jar. I handed over my sample when I came out with the reddest face I’ve ever had, refused a cup of tea and made a rapid escape to my car in the car-park. As I’d got time off work to have the test I suddenly realized that because it was over so quickly it might be safe for me to visit Bernard, so I phoned him on my mobile and told him I’d just done the test.