My parents were divorced when I was two and my mother remarried. I got saddled with the typical asshole stepfather but, enough about him. My dad also remarried, years later.
At the earliest opportunity, I left home, after a brief stint in college. I held various odd jobs…and, on a whim, I called my dad. He invited me to his house to get acquainted and meet his new wife. I mulled the invitation over and decided that maybe it was worth a visit.
The initial contact was a bit uncomfortable but we eased into the disaster with caution and a bit of decided delusion as to what each expected the other to be. After all, it had been a lot of years and as I recall, I was in diapers the last time I had a good look at his face.
His new wife was a bit of a bitch. I guess she figured that I was coming out of the woodwork after a lot of years and I must want something. Not true.
He invited me to stay for awhile, which went over real well with his wife. Anyway, I decided to move in for awhile and help him around the house and his business in exchange for some spending money, room and board.
After a few weeks, his wife warmed up to me a bit but it was still frosty around the house. I used to hear her talking to dad, in hushed tones, when hey thought I was asleep.
OK, now we fast-forward about 25 years (I don't want to bore you with a bunch of stuff that doesn't really add to the story).
I'm married, a couple of kids (fairly well grown) and dad has a heart attack. I get the call one-day at my office and pack a bag for a quick trip to his house.
My stepmother has been in a 4-year mental decline, suffering the onset of Alzheimer's and dad is in the local hospital awaiting a triple bypass.
Since I only have a maiden aunt, she and I share the responsibilities of staying with my stepmother. My aunt spends the weekdays and I drive up to the house to spend the weekends. From Friday night thru Monday morning, my stepmother is my responsibility.
The Alzheimer's was beginning to cause a real problem. She would get up at night and wander around looking for my father…she couldn't remember that he was in the hospital. This late night activity caused me to call her physician to get a sedative. Whatever it was he prescribed would really make her chill out.
One Friday night, after getting her to down two of the pills, we were sitting around and I was attempting to carry on a conversation with her…without much luck. She would start talking and then her words would trail off. Like she wasn't all there…that is when my thoughts of sex took hold. I rationalized that since she and my dad hadn't been getting it on in a number of years (previous surgery had left my father impotent), I might as well step in and see if what she had to offer was worth all the crap my dad had to put up with.
I poured her a glass of wine to strengthen the effect of the sedative and waited to let the alcohol work its magic. I continued our conversation and observed her reactions.
In less than an hour, and a couple of glasses of wine, it became apparent that she would have walked into a hail of bullets and felt no pain. At that point, I lifted her under her arms and assisted her to the master bedroom.
I got her situated at the edge of the bed and began undressing her. It became a chore as she kept drifting to the right and left as I was unbuttoning her clothing. It took about 20 minutes to strip her down to her bra and panties. I pulled the blanket and top sheet to the side and rolled her over, covering her again as her head hit the pillow. I soon heard her soft, regular breathing as she slipped into a deep sleep.