It's not pleasant growing old. They tell you when you retire from work that you can relax into your twilight years, and see out your days in peace and tranquillity. Well, I'm – let's say 70-something – now, and ever since I left the job I'd loved for over 40 years, lecturing in Classical Mythology at Girton College, Cambridge, my life has been in a constant state of flux.
First there was the adjustment to retirement, missing the bustle and internal politics of university life, the mixing with colleagues and vibrant young people. I've always been an active person, and pottering around a herb garden and watching embarrassing people talking about their sordid little relationships on daytime television held no attraction for me. Then my dear husband Johnnie developed pancreatic cancer and literally faded away. He'd been a professional wildlife photographer, and it was heart-rending watching such a big, strong man turn into a lifeless husk. In truth it was a blessing to us both when he finally found eternal rest.
After that I began to feel my age, just little aches and pains which made stairs a trial, that sort of thing. I was all alone in a big old house, and our combined pensions didn't amount to much. I decided to take the very considerable profit I knew would arise from selling the place, our antique furniture, Johnnie's wildlife prints and my vast collection of books, and move on. I had no desire to live with my waspish daughter, her dull husband and their squalling teenagers, even if they'd had room for me. So, with my new found wealth safely invested, I sought out a very pleasant little retirement village on the south coast.
Sunny Meadows consisted of a two-storey block of apartments, individual cottages and communal areas, all set in lovely grounds on a cliff top. I took one of the cottages. I was determined not to allow myself to become institutionalised though. I've always been sturdy (I'm five-feet six tall and weigh around sixteen stones), but I'm still fit for my age, and I took daily walks along the cliffs and made regular visits to museums, galleries and concerts in the local towns. I also kept up my habit of completing the Times crossword in about 15 minutes each day.
I quickly found out who among my fellow residents was worth knowing: who had a brain, who still had a bit of life in them, and who was gaga. I developed a small circle of intelligent companions, male and female. One of the ladies insisted on pointing out to me the likely candidates for romance in the place; I'm afraid that didn't interest me at all. Even as a girl I had always been described as striking or handsome, never pretty. I always preferred tweeds and twin-sets to satin and silk. I enjoyed the physical side of my relationship with Johnnie, of course, but when we reached our fifties that seemed less important somehow, and for the last 20 years or so of his life we were chums rather than lovers. I certainly didn't want some wrinkled old fool slobbering over me, thank you very much.
There was one attractive male at Sunny Meadows, but not a resident. He was the only young man on the staff, a Polish boy by the name of Janusz. In his mid-twenties, tall and blonde, with clear blue eyes, powerful shoulders and a firm jaw, I saw many an elderly heart flutter over him (including more than one male one). He was perennially cheerful and spoke good English, and I found him a very pleasant young fellow. He was most polite, and the only member of the staff who unfailingly accorded me the courtesy of calling me Doctor Walker, rather then just assuming my permission to refer to me as Dorothy.
I settled comfortably into Sunny Meadows, and began to finally enjoy my retirement. Then on one of my cliff walks I fell and injured my hip rather badly. Fortunately a nice young couple were on hand, and helped me to their car and drove me home. The local doctor assured me that I was badly bruised rather than broken, and prescribed a few days bed rest. I was quite glad of that: the hip ached dully when I lay in bed, but sent tongues of fire down my leg when I put any weight on it. The staff brought me my meals, and Janusz very sweetly called at the library and video shop for me, collecting several titles which interested me.
The morning after my fall, Janusz surprised me by arriving at my cottage about an hour after breakfast. He was carrying a plastic washing bowl, a wash cloth, towel and soap. I looked at him dubiously. He gave me a reassuring smile and said, "Good morning Doctor Walker. I give you bed bath." I was initially quite shocked. I place great value on personal hygiene, but it hardly seemed appropriate for a man to assist me with it. I asked if no female member of staff was available. Janusz replied over his shoulder as he filled the bowl with warm water. "We short staffed right now – always short staffed. If you like, you wait until Suzanne come on duty this afternoon." Suzanne was an ill-tempered young madam, with the face of a pig and manners to match.
Janusz squatted by my bed and gently took my hand. "It's okay Doctor, I understand you nervous, but I bath lots of ladies here. Just part of my job. You don't have anything I don't see pretty much every day – at least I hope not!" I was aware that Janusz performed far more distasteful personal tasks for some of the more feeble-minded residents. He was right, he was just doing his job. Feeling like a silly old biddy I smiled, patted his hand, and allowed him to help me into a sitting position to remove my nightdress. I was reassured when Janusz's smile remained on my face, with not even a twitch of his eyes towards my rather ample bust.
Janusz soaked the wash cloth and proceeded to bathe my neck, shoulders and chest. He was very gentle, and as the soft warm material passed across my skin I found I was getting a quite sensual pleasure from the experience. His hand dropped to my breasts, and he rubbed the cloth across them, seeming to concentrate rather longer than necessary on my nipples. I felt them stiffen under his touch; my stomach suddenly felt very tight, and I could feel a blush spreading across my face and chest. I actually felt quite guilty that I seemed to be becoming aroused when this nice young man was being so kind to me!
As Janusz lifted my right breast, to wash beneath it, his index finger stroked across the underside. I thought I must have imagined it, but I jumped slightly when he repeated the motion on my left tittie. Without looking up, his voice as smooth as the finest silk, he murmured "So Doctor, you like my wash?" My mouth too dry to speak, I squeaked in confirmation. He chuckled to himself, and slid the cloth down to my stomach. I had all but convinced myself that the breast stroking had been an unconscious action on Janusz's part when he drew his cloth, slowly and, it seemed sensuously, across my Brillo pad of grey pubic hair. I told myself I was being stupid, obviously he had to wash me there, and a pleasant feeling was a side effect of that. Nevertheless, I could barely breathe as I watched his hand trail across me. His other hand rested on my hip, the good one, his fingers lightly stroking my skin, apparently unconsciously. In a matter-of-fact voice, Janusz said, "Open your legs now please." I manoeuvred my big thighs apart and took a shuddering breath.
First Janusz washed my inner thighs. I twitched as a knuckle brushed against the lips of my vagina. Then I bit my lip as he ran the cloth along the slit itself. The second time he seemed to do it a little more firmly, and I closed my eyes and fought to suppress a moan of pleasure. The third time one of his fingers seemed to be raised within the cloth, and actually stroked into the opening of my pussy. I couldn't hold back a groan that time. Janusz looked up, an innocent smile on his face, and said, "Oops, sorry, I slipped a little. Okay Doctor, I need to turn you over now." He helped me to turn onto my front, rolling over on my good hip.
I rested my flushed cheek on my hands and, almost without realising it, shuffled my thighs wide apart. I enjoyed the warmth of the cloth on my back, but I felt myself beginning to tense in anticipation as Janusz's hand approached my bottom. First he rubbed my buttocks with the cloth. Then I felt a finger, still inside the cloth, press deep into my anal cleft and stroke its length. I pressed my mouth to my hands to stifle yet another moan. A moment later, the finger stroked my bum crack again – but this time there was no cloth covering it! At the same moment another finger slipped between my labia and into my cunnie. I felt Janusz's breath on my ear, and he whispered, "Just tell me any time you want me to stop, okay?" Then he licked his tongue down the rim of my ear.
I didn't move a muscle. I didn't speak, or open my eyes, as Janusz wormed one finger into my bottom, and stirred two more fingers slowly around my pussy. The most glorious warmth seemed to flood through my body, and I heard a voice which sounded like mine moaning, over and over. Janusz gradually increased the pace of the fingers in my cunnie, and began pushing them in and out, effectively fucking me with them. I was becoming hotter and hotter; in all my years of marriage I couldn't remember anything quite so erotic as what I was feeling then. My body acting independently of my mind, my legs slid under me, raising me onto my knees, giving Janusz even greater access to me. A stab of pain shot through my hip and I straightened that leg, balancing on one knee as Janusz's fingers pressed into me to the hilt. I began gasping rather than moaning, then I gave a long cry as flashing lights seemed to explode in my head. My pussy felt so wet it was as though somebody had unleashed a fire hose into it. I slumped down onto the bed with a huge explosion of breath.
I rolled onto my back and stared glassy-eyed at Janusz as he sat in a chair beside my bed. He gently stroked my hair and asked coyly how I felt. I could manage only one word: "Wonderful."
