****
I was just a young girl, not much past eighteen years old and working in the summer as an assistant for the disabled and elderly in my community, helping them do shopping, cleaning and other menial tasks. It was pretty fun and I enjoyed helping people, there are so many whose lives are so restricted that helping them just a little makes their whole day better. I took pride in that, I still do in fact. When the day that changed my life came we had gone through a hectic week with several calling in sick, and on that fateful day we were only three on duty. It was me, another young temp, and one of the old-timers who no longer really cared about anything. We were dividing up the work and I was handed assignments from the to-do list quickly, before we split up to start our work. I had some people on my list I hadn“t met before, but I thought nothing of it and headed off in the warm summer breeze for just another day.
The route went normally at first and the new faces were no problem, only issue was some sweet old great-grandmother getting really mad because she thought I had been sloppy with the vacuuming. It was when I came to a run-down old house things started to go wrong.
A disabled man lived there, he was younger than most of the people in our care, only in his fifties, but he was living alone, bound to his wheelchair. The job was to clean the place and while I was a little worried it might be very messy inside, judging by the unkempt garden and house, I kept my cheer on and rang on the doorbell.
The man opened the door with an electric motor controlled by a remote, and as we said hello in the entry hall I saw that he had dark hair streaked with grey, strong features and a deeply sunburned skin. I was getting a little nervous as he stared at me, but I relaxed as he suddenly told me some silly joke, and began talking about how he had worked his whole life in a construction firm he created from the ground up until he was involved in a traffic accident. When I asked him about his wife he told me he never married and didn“t want to talk about it, I felt so sorry for him.
I got to work, tidying up the place, and it was not that bad, mostly a lot of empty beer bottles, but I got really embarrassed when I found some worn copies of pornographic magazines on a small table, the very graphic covers drawing my eyes as I pretended not so see them and moved on, leaving them there. He kept talking about this and that while I worked, and it was pretty pleasant. His confident manners reassured me, and knew how to make me laugh, telling funny anecdotes about old colleagues and the like.
While talking he complained about how he didn“t get the shower he was supposed to get this week and how he really wanted to get clean but couldn“t since he had trouble grabbing things with his knees, he had some problems with his joints apparently. Before he even asked I was getting apprehensive, not sure what to do. When he asked me if I please could help him I had to decide. The older women had shower assistance on most days, but they never sent us younger girls on them so I hadn“t done it before.
I also felt nervous about showering a man, the most experience I had with men was bathing naked with a boy I liked in a summer lake at night and fooling around with him on and off for a few months. I had been looking quite a bit at pornography after my friends introduced me to it, but looking at naked bodies on a mobile phone like a guilty pleasure at night when I played with myself was miles from actually cleaning an adult man with my hands.
I was too innocent, a foolish kid really, and I didn“t realize how inappropriate the whole thing was so in the end I agreed, feeling pressured. His face shone with gratitude I thought at this and I felt a little better, how hard could it really be?
****
The shower was remodeled to allow easy entry into it with his wheelchair, and after a little fussing about I managed to get him into the shower chair. He was far larger than me and much heavier, his legs fairly slim compared to his upper body, and I was a blushing a little after being pressed against his body in the process of getting there which required all my strength despite him helping as best he could.
He guided me, instructed me, telling me what they usually did and I began to relax a little. Soon I was ready, plastic apron on to protect my clothes from the water, hands covered by nitrile gloves for hygiene and things like sponges and easily reachable. He asked me to help him unbutton his shirt, which I did of course, not realizing he must be able to take off and on his clothes himself since we were not there in the mornings or evenings.
He had tough sinewy muscles and a thick gray-black matting of hair on his chest, and I hesitated and fumbled a little as I helped him off with the pants and underwear. I had never seen a naked man this close before in clear lighting and the sight of his penis and ball sack made uneasy.
He pretend not to notice and kept talking about how grateful he was I was helping him, how tough it was to do these things himself and so on. He even complimented me on my beautiful long golden hair and blue eyes, saying I reminded him of an old girlfriend. I didn“t know what to say so I turned on the water, which was a little cold and he suddenly shouted at me so I almost dropped the shower head.
I apologized profusely and started sweating with nervousness until I got the right temperature and started washing him down. He grabbed the sponge I had soaped up and began rubbing his arms slowly, but he soon dropped it, wincing and complained how his fingers hurt. I had to lean over him to reach it, pressing against his chest with my breasts and feeling terribly embarrassed. He said nothing, and when I handed him the sponge I couldn“t help but notice it looked like his penis was a bit bigger than I initially had thought.
He looked angry and I was getting really unsure of what to do. In a gruff voice he told me that he couldn“t use the sponge anymore due to his fingers aching, all thanks to the cold water I had doused him with first. He asked me to help him and I hesitated but grabbed the sponge from him and mumbled something. I began rubbing his shoulders, his back, his chest, fascinated by how strong he felt, much unlike most of the boys my age. He had real muscles from long years of hard work,
and looked utterly unfazed by being slathered in soap bubbles my my trembling hands.
After going over his upper body several times, avoiding looking down, he finally asked me out loud to help him down there. I hesitated again, but as he asked me nicely again and saying if I didn“t help him he would probably get a terrible itch or something, and they always helped him with it during the showers, so I slid the sponge down.
I stopped at where his pubic hair began, my eyes unable to leave his penis, now decidedly bigger, it had stretched out and was laying out between his legs, slowly growing a little more as I watched, the pink head peeking out halfway from its sheath. He acted like nothing and I didn“t know what else to do, continuing down and rubbing the sponge on the insides of his thighs quickly a few times before pulling back. He admonished me for being sloppy, saying that wasn“t enough to get it clean. What he told me was that when cleaning a man you must rub around his member properly, also making sure to scrub his balls gently but thoroughly, finishing with cleaning the whole length of him and especially around the head of the penis.
He talked so matter-of-factly while I was feeling intense heat in my face from blushing. I hesitated for a few more moments, suddenly aware of my heart throbbing, before sliding down the sponge again, my eyes fixed on his penis that twitched once and grew a little more as I reached the pubic area. I rubbed his pubic hair, making his members stand out as a somewhat crooked pillar of flesh in a sea of white bubbles, and when he shifted slightly, moving his hips forward to push his ball sack forward and making his penis stand almost straight up I bit my lip but remembering his instructions I began soaping up and rubbing his balls.