Caring For The Carer

This story is suitable only for 18+ who are not upset by adult themes of sex, bondage and BDSM. If you are, please read something else.

This is a fictitious story about fictitious people, fictitious places and fictitious activities. It is not intended as a lifestyle suggestion nor a sexual manual. All the fictitious people in this story are adults of 18+ (I know because they all showed me their birth certificates) who took part in the story of their own volition and no coercion was used. Some damage was caused but kept to a minimum.

Please read on and, hopefully, enjoy.

* * * *

After several years trying to cope as his wife's carer, Henry decided he needed to try something different.

The problem was: his wife had become severely disabled. During her youth she had been a ballerina, working her body and joints hard before her hips started to play up, destroying her career and at a later stage almost crippling her as the hip joints began to break up. Despite long hours attending various clinics with negligible results it became obvious that the position would only get worse.

Either she was too young to have hip replacements or she was too over-weight (because she could barely move, never mind exercise), regardless it meant that she wouldn't get surgery, certainly not until she was far too old to appreciate it. After several years pretending she was really fit and active, it slowly became obvious that she couldn't move without effort and that her joint pain was so great that she was unable to take part in any sexual activity, never mind enjoy it.

Henry had resigned himself to a life of celibacy although his mind didn't give up. He made a small but lucrative living producing soft porn e-books. After a few years, even this didn't stop his lusting after an active sex life. Several times a week, he had to drive her to various specialists or supermarket runs where she would use the trolley to support herself during the actual shopping run and try to recover the next day. He was beginning to understand what the life of a capon was. Imagination was capable of helping but only to a limited degree. His e-books went from amusing sexual experiments to laments for a lost virility.

After ten years in this situation, He felt that something had to happen. While trying to excite his penis to yet another hollow ejaculation, he realised that something, anything, had to give him a reason to continue. As his wife became more disabled she also became more resistant to help, even Henry's help.

They were supposed to be a team but it no longer worked out that way. She couldn't do the daily housekeeping and the home became grubby and untidy. If Henry started to clean up or even suggested that he ran the vacuum cleaner over the floor, she would reject his suggestion, saying she was going to do it herself, although she never actually did. Gradually the house became more and more unkempt. Henry tried to clean-up without her knowing but she seldom went out and rows ensued as she caught him 'doing her jobs' as she put it.

Finally he felt he had to do something decisive and advertised for a female carer, to live-in and do all the things his wife could no longer do, including helping her to bathe and dress as well as basic housekeeping. He thought, if they planned it properly, she could use the carer to do the jobs she couldn't do but under her supervision, thereby giving her some control over her life still.

Applications from likely candidates arrived and he arranged for interviews. At this point, he carefully broke the news to his wife who wasn't at all happy about his presumption. Taking a huff, she decided not to take part in any interviews for 'people to replace her' but reluctantly allowed Henry to undertake them.

Grateful for small mercies, Henry decided on a series of interviews, to be held away from their house. For simplicities sake, he decided to hold them all on the same day and hired the local pub's smallest function room. At least he could have a drink while doing the interviews.

After various reviews and queries, the applicants were whittled down to three worth interviewing. He arranged for the interviews to be held an hour apart, starting at ten o'clock.

The first one, he dismissed virtually out of hand (obviously not telling her right away). She was a twenty year old blonde, who quickly admitted that 'she felt she should give something back into society and thought that helping a poor crippled woman to cope with life, would only be humane'. He kicked her out as soon as he decently could as he didn't want a court case over infringing her human rights or anything of that kind.

The second one, appeared reasonable at first, apart from referring constantly to the fact that she'd nursed her poor mother for several years before she died (probably through sheer relief!).

The last one was different. Her name was Abigail Robinson. She was well dressed, not posh but well planned. Aged about forty-five, she was well-built, not beautiful, rather plain but not ugly. One would describe her as having 'an interesting bone structure'. She described her career as 'mixed'. She had also nursed her mother through her last illness and understood how to handle an invalid. She believed that it was best to allow the invalid to direct her work, rather than pushing them into the background and doing everything.

Henry liked her for this and thought that she had the makings of quite a pleasant companion, certainly from a personality aspect. As they talked, he got the impression that she understood his problems and difficulties. He warmed to her and felt she responded. After a relatively long interview, Henry suggested that he took her downstairs to the pub itself and stood her a meal, especially as she had travelled a considerable distance. She charmingly agreed, they went downstairs and he ordered a meal for two. While they waited, they casually chatted and she offered insights into her early life.

Apparently she was engaged when her mother became housebound and she gave up a possible marriage in order to look after her. As she said, she regretted the lost opportunity but felt that family came first. Henry commiserated with her, hinting at his own difficulties. As they ate, he thought they could work together and he offered her the position, starting in a month. She accepted.

* * * * *

Abigail had enjoyed chatting to Henry. She became a carer really because she liked the idea of helping, especially after doing it for so long as her mother's carer. Her mother had remarked many times that she thought Abigail enjoyed being ordered about far too much. She certainly obeyed her instructions quickly and never argued.

Much later, after her mother died and she was working as a paid carer for the first time, she realised that her mother was right. Abigail did enjoy being ordered about. It meant she never had to worry about what she should do as her employer would always tell her. Only months later did she find out that she was probably what is known as a submissive. She had found a rather naughty book about BDSM and this revealed what a submissive was. After reading this she tended to have wet dreams where she was controlled by a man who had bought her as a slave. Now she understood her feelings, she was almost happy in her situation.

* * * * *

Henry's only problem now was to get his wife to agree to actually have a carer even if it's one at her beck and call. It had taken him three years to get her to agree to have the bath replaced by a shower, despite the fact that she couldn't get into or out of the bath without his assistance. Henry was not looking forward to his job of persuading her to accept the carer, to allow another woman into their house and effectively supplant her as the chatelaine.

However he was fortunate, for some reason, she was happy to accept the idea of a carer. Naturally she then spent most of the month scrubbing, polishing, vacuuming and generally burnishing the house to a regal shine, even though the effort was enough to put her in bed for a week.

Finally Abigail arrived to take up her position. She appeared early on the appointed day complete with several trunks containing all her possessions. Henry answered the door, invited her in and introduced her to his wife. While they fenced with their small talk, Henry dragged her trunks upstairs to her designated room.

On his return an armistice appeared to have been declared, so he took Abigail around the house, to familiarise her with the layout. They returned to the lounge and his wife, together with Abigail, set to making dinner. During this, he could hear raised voices on several occasions. Finally dinner was served without actual bloodshed.

Attempting to lessen the tension, Henry took the opportunity of asking Abigail to tell Janet, his wife, about her career. She explained that she had been a professional carer for about four years and that Janet was her third client. Apparently one of the others had died and the other one had just gone into a care home as her alzheimer's had got too bad for her to stay at home.

They finished dinner, sat around getting acquainted and watching TV until bedtime. Abigail excused herself first and Henry left for bed about half an hour later. His wife, as usual would stay up until the early hours waiting for her last painkiller to kick in before retiring.

The three settled into a routine surprisingly quickly. Henry spent most of his time at his writing; he had converted the smallest bedroom into a computer room cum study and disappeared into it at every opportunity, leaving the two women to organise themselves. Abigail, cleverly, ensured she obtained instructions from Janet on a regular basis and was careful to do the various chores using Janet's methods. Because of this, Janet gradually relaxed and left Abigail to run the house at her own pace. In between household chores, Abigail was also able to assist Janet with personal service, bathing, dressing and shopping, relieving Henry of many duties.

This went on for several months and Henry began to relax. One evening he had slipped into his study to work on a story after dinner. As he was shutting down the computer he heard Abigail coming upstairs and going into her bedroom. He switched his light out and left the study just as she was coming out of her room heading for the family bathroom. Henry and Janet had an on-suite in the master bedroom so the family bathroom was virtually Abigail's private domain.

He stopped to let her get past him. She was wearing a bathrobe, held closed by her hands. She stopped when she saw him and they looked at each other without speaking for some time. As Henry started to speak, Abigail moved her hands slightly letting the right side of her robe to slip open, exposing her breast to Henry's view. She was naked under the robe and obviously was on her way to take a shower in the bathroom.

Henry stood, stunned, and unable to take his eyes off the sight of her ivory breast with the areola and erect nipple clearly visible. Surprisingly, for her age, her breast was obviously still firm and reasonably pert. After what seemed like forever, Henry moved forward and gently pulled the other side of her robe open, exposing the other breast. Neither spoke or moved. Then Abigail slowly closed her robe, smiled gently and entered the bathroom. Henry sighed and went down to the lounge.

As he entered, he saw his wife, sitting in her favourite chair and asked "Do you want another g and t, dear, before I go to bed?"

"That would be nice, thank you Henry, you're always very good to me."

He went over to the cabinet and poured out her drink. As he did so, he thought about Abigail and what had happened, feeling a heel, lusting after her upstairs, while his wife suffered down here. Handing her the drink, he then kissed her goodnight and went to bed.

Several days later, Henry bumped into Abigail late at night upstairs. She was again on her way to the bathroom and again wearing the bathrobe. They stopped, as before, looking at each other without speaking. Slowly Abigail moved her hands to her sides allowing the robe to swing open revealing her naked body. Henry stood looking, his stare working up and down, finally settling on her neatly trimmed thatch of pubic hair. She had cut the hairs short and shaved the edges to leave a triangular shape pointing down as if it was a direction sign pointing to unknown delights.

She stood motionless as Henry moved closer, pushing his hands towards her waist. He touched her skin moving his hands slowly between her body and the robe. He gently grasped her buttocks, making her cleft open as he pulled her into his body. She could feel his cock slowly filling and pushing out. Almost in reciprocal response to his body's reaction she began to grind her pelvis into his crutch, hastening his erection. Without thinking, Henry kissed her neck, working slowly down towards her breast until he was able to take a nipple into his mouth.

As he worked the nipple with his mouth, moving his hands slowly up her back, Abigail began to react, her breath coming slow and heavy as she responded to his increasing pressure on her nipple by writhing against him. He kissed her roughly, crushing her lips as he impressed her with his need. She moved her hands down to his trousers, searching for and finding the zip. She pulled it slowly down as she returned his kiss. Her hands reached inside and found his now rigid cock. She pulled it free and held it firmly in her hands. She stroked it gently before guiding it into her, now, wet cunt. She hitched herself forward, helping the cock to sink into its full length.

Once she was settled on his cock, the two of them began to thrust, slowly at first then speeding up to a frenzy. Henry quickly came, pumping his juices into her as she herself came with a bang, desperately trying to muffle her cry by smothering it on his shoulder. Both of them had been a long time since they had had full congress and both came copiously. As they slowed and came down from their high, Henry kissed her again, forcing her mouth open so he could drive his tongue deep into her mouth. They slumped together, breathless, hugging each other, more for support than lust or affection.

Henry slowly withdrew his cock, which flopped down, already growing flaccid. They kissed again, gently, almost like a tender farewell. He stepped back, slipped his cock back into his trousers and zipped them up before dropping his hands to his side and started to apologise. "Abigail, I'm, I'm sorry. I don't know what ..."

She put her finger to his lips and softly said. "I know just what happened. We both had a need, a need so powerful that it had to be filled. The question now is 'what next?'."

Henry stuttered. "I ... I... I don't know. We should never do this thing again. We should ... "

Abigail interrupted. "Henry, you know we can't just stop and forget. Either I leave now and we never see each other again, or, we find a way to continue. After all we are both adults with a need. A strong need. You cannot make love to your wife, at least not until she is fit and strong again, which may be years, if ever. I could have sex with another man, if I wished, but feel I should continue to help you, at least, until Janet can resume relations with you. Don't you think that is the right thing to do?"

Henry was nodding to this but still unsure. Abigail patted his shoulder, wrapped her robe about her and disappeared into the bathroom. Henry slowly descended the stairs and rejoined his wife. He slumped into his chair and taking a book up to cover his distraction tried to control his whirling thoughts.

For the next few weeks Henry was on tenterhooks. He tried to ensure that he didn't meet Abigail away from his wife, although this was extremely difficult in such a small house. When she did see him, she gave a quiet smile, obviously understanding his difficulty. This situation was slowly destroying Henry and obviously would have got worse if it hadn't been for a letter from the hospital, asking Janet to attend a day ward to have several specialised tests done under a general anaesthetic. Assuming there were no problems she could be out that day, otherwise staying possibly for a day or two, if further tests were required.

On the appointed day, Henry drove her to the hospital and helped her to the ward where an officious nurse took over, almost snatching Janet's case. She sent Henry on his way, telling him to ring late afternoon regarding Janet's discharge. After kissing his wife, Henry drove home.

When he got home, he was greeted by Abigail, wearing only her dressing gown. She came close to him and kissed his lips. Henry jerked back away but then slowly returned the kiss. "Henry," she said, "This is an ideal opportunity. I know you love your wife and I don't want to break that bond. This is just sex, plain simple sex between adults. No complications. Call it 'caring with benefits'. We may not get another opportunity like this again." Her robe slipped to the floor and she reached forward to his zip. Pulling out his stiffening cock, she led him to the couch and lay down with her legs open.

"But ... " Henry started, to be silenced by her lips.

"Take me, please. I'm yours for this moment. Let's rut like the animals we are. It's just sex, nothing more." As she said this, she was guiding his cock towards her cunt.

Finally making the decision, Henry pushed her hand away and proceeded to enter her already moist hole. Once in, he began thrusting, slowly at first but getting fiercer as lust overcome his hesitance. His hands kneaded her breasts, grasping the nipples in his desire to possess her body. Again he came very quickly as did she. He lay gasping on top of her for several moments before rolling off and standing up.

Henry stepped away, rezipping himself. He started to speak but she put her hand up, stopping him. "Don't say anything. We have this short moment, perhaps the only one we'll get. Let's use it. We can blame ourselves later." She stood up, slid her hands down her hips as if flattening a disgruntled dress. "I'll make us some tea, shall I?" Henry nodded. Abigail stepped past him and headed for the kitchen, still naked, even her hair flowed free. Henry slumped into his favourite chair, his thoughts whirling around in his head.

He sat there, still trying to think about what happened when Abigail reappeared carrying a tray with the tea. She came up to him and then, with a smile, knelt in front of him saying, "Your tea is here, my lord. May I serve it?"

Henry started, smiled and said. "Nice to see you know your place. Pour away, my beauty."

She poured his tea, carefully handed it to him, then poured one for herself. Henry sat back in his chair to enjoy his tea. Abigail slid over and sat resting her back against his legs. They sat companionably, comfortably sipping their drinks in silence. As Henry finished his drink, almost by itself, his hand slid over her shoulder and gently grasped her breast. She tilted her head and rested it on his arm. They sat in that posture for a long time.

Henry felt almost happy and was trying to think of a way to discuss their situation when the front door opened and they heard Janet's voice. "Any one there? The tests were cancelled and I cadged a lift rather than drag you out all that way. Oh." She said this as she was entering the room, to stop in the doorway with a gasp. "What on earth is happening! Henry! Why is Abigail sitting like that, and naked as well?"

Henry started in panic and leapt up and out of the chair. His quick exit left Abigail unbalanced and she slid over onto her side, legs waving in the air. He hummed and 'haa'ed for an agonising moment, recovered his voice and started to try to explain the unexplainable when Abigail, coming to her knees, turned and said. "I'm sorry, Janet, this was all my fault, Henry's not to blame. Please forgive me, I'll ... "