Caring for Carrie

ALL CHARACTERS ARE AT LEAST 18 YEARS OF AGE OR OLDER.

-------------------------------------------------------------

The summer sun hung sweltering in the midday sky as Carrie, Lizzy and I sat poolside.

Lizzy had returned from vacation a few weeks ago and had been over often since.

While I appreciated her help, I kinda missed having to do the more intimate things for Carrie when she was around. For instance, it was Lizzy, not I, who'd helped Carrie into her bikini and applied the sunscreen today.

"You're looking pretty tan for a girl who's been cooped up in the house all summer," Lizzy commented.

"Yeah, Dad's helped me get outside for some sun and fresh air," said Carrie.

Lizzy gave me a curious look, opening her mouth as if to say something, but didn't.

I pretended to be oblivious to the conversation as I checked some business emails on my phone. I really didn't want to start answering questions about how often I'd taken Carrie out by the pool and slathered her soft, supple skin in the slippery, coconut scented oil, my hands often finding curves and crevices no father normally had business touching on his own daughter.

I also didn't want to talk about why Carrie had less tan lines than she should have because of how often she'd sunbathe topless now, or how her pubic hair was still neatly trimmed and maintained enough not to stick out from her bikini bottom despite both of Carrie's hands being in casts for over seven weeks now.

No, those kinds of questions wouldn't do at all.

Instead of pursuing it further, though, Lizzy changed the subject. "So when do you get the casts off?"

"Next week!" Carrie answered excitedly. "I can't wait! The itching has been driving me crazy!"

Carrie's checkups had gone well and she was healing faster than expected. Still, once the casts were off, she'd still need several weeks of physical therapy to fully get back on her feet. But Carrie was young and strong, and we'd kept up with her workout routine. Her doctor assured us she'd be back to normal in no time, and should be fully recovered by the time she left for college in September.

We'd also kept up with our far less orthodox routine, a routine we of course had to keep highly secret.

We hadn't progressed much further than the mutual touching and masturbation of that first time. While I desperately wanted to go down on her, and have her perform oral on me, Carrie hadn't suggested either, and I had no intention of forcing it on her. Perhaps she wasn't quite ready for that yet, or maybe she was just waiting until her casts were off. Either way, I'd be patient.

She had invited me to suck her nipples, her breasts as sensitive as her mothers had been, and Carrie was enjoying her newly discovered ability to orgasm through nipple stimulation. Of course, they were always merely appetizers, the main course served through either her vibrator, my fingers, or a combination of both.

I'd always lick my fingers clean afterwards. Carrie's orgasms produced a silky white cream like the glaze on a pastry, and just as delectable. I eagerly awaited the day I could taste it directly from the source.

Carrie was still limited as to what she could do to return the favor, but her simple touch was more than enough for me, either by stroking my shaft with her fingers or lightly tickling my scrotum while I jerked myself off.

I'd always enjoyed the times Shelle would watch me masturbate, on those rare occasions where she was simply too exhausted, mentally strained, or struggling with her period to feel up to doing anything more. No matter what her mood had been before, it would always lighten considerably as she lay beside me, her head on my shoulder, lightly rubbing my chest and simply watching me take care of myself. I was always far harder and more excited when Shelle watched than when masturbating on my own, and I made sure she knew that.

I felt that same sense of increased arousal now, whenever Carrie was beside me, helping as she could but often just gazing in wonder and fascination. She'd sometimes ask questions, or comment on what I was doing, as if making mental notes on what touches, strokes or speeds felt most pleasurable to me.

And when I'd finish, her fingers would invariably trace their way through my sticky chest and stomach, playing with my cum and, several times now, tasting it.

As I said, it had become a routine with us, an almost daily one. And sometimes more than once a day.

The only time we took a break from things is when Carrie got her period. Even then though, while she wasn't feeling comfortable enough for me to pleasure her, she'd still enjoy laying beside me in bed (she slept in my room most nights now) and inviting me to masturbate while she watched.

Just last night, we escalated things slightly, with Carrie suddenly encouraging me (more like pleading, really) to ejaculate on her breasts.

I'd been laying on my back beside her as usual, but I immediately sat up and straddled her, rubbing the tip of my cock against her nipple as I felt my orgasm approach.

My cum covered her soft tanned skin, dripping down her firm tits into her cleavage, still more running down the sides and on to the sheets.

Carrie playfully rubbed my semen into her nipples, stimulating herself to the point that I had to yet again help her get "one last one" before we both finally fell into an exhausted but satisfied sleep.

My memories of all of this were interrupted by the sound of Carrie clearing her throat loudly.

Snapping out of my daydream, I turned to find her glaring at me intently. Her eyes flickered towards my crotch, then back to me.

Fortunately, Lizzy still had her back to me, giving me time to adjust myself and hide the bulge that had sprung up under my bathing suit.

"You okay?" Lizzy asked Carrie.

"Fine," Carrie answered, giving me a quick sideways glance. "Just...something stuck in my throat."

"Okay. Well, I'm gonna cool off in the pool," said Lizzy. She took a few steps then paused and turned back to Carrie. "Sorry you can't join me. I feel kinda guilty about swimming in front of you."

Carrie smiled up at her. "Don't worry about it. One more week and these things will be gone. And the doctor said swimming will be great therapy for me, so I'll be in there a lot!"

Lizzy swam for several minutes then pulled herself up out of the pool, the water dripping from her darker toned skin that spoke to some mixed ethnicity in her lineage I couldn't quite put my finger on.

As she towel dried her hair, I admired the short, stylish new cut and color she'd recently gotten that added a wavy mixed layer of blue beneath her natural black tones.

She was a beautiful young woman. Not as beautiful as my Carrie, of course.

I found the contradiction amusing. Here I was, fooling around with, and in all probability soon taking the virginity of, my own daughter.

But when it came to her friend...while I found myself admiring her beauty, my mind refused to allow itself to even consider her in a sexual way. Instead it went right back to Dad Mode.

So I instinctively turned away and refocused on my emails when Lizzy bent over to start drying her legs.

We lay in the sun for a while, Lizzy and Carrie chatting away as Lizzy caught her up on her vacation adventures.

Later, I threw some burgers on the grill and shortly after eating, Lizzy got ready to leave.

"Are you sure you don't want me to help you shower before I go?" I could hear her ask Carrie from the living room while I cleaned up from our meal in the kitchen.

"Nah, I'm, um...it'll be fine. I may wanna go outside again in a bit anyway. Don't worry about it." I don't know if Lizzy picked up on it, but I certainly heard a hint of nervous tension in Carrie's voice.

"Okay, whatevs," said Lizzy. Popping her head into the kitchen, she called out, "Thanks again, Mr. Wilson. You sure you don't want me to help clean up before I go?"

"I got it, Lizzy," I responded over my shoulder. "But thank you."

"Okay," she said, offering a crooked grin. "Gonna be busy the next few days. Guess you're stuck showering her again. But I'll be over to help again soon. Bye!" And with a wave, she was gone.

Finished with the dishes, I found Carrie relaxing in her wheelchair, watching some TV.

"Were you really planning to go back out in the sun?" I asked curiously.

Carrie grinned. "No. You know how I get after sunbathing. I really just wanted you to help me shower."

And so I did.

-----------------------------------------------------

A week later, we returned from the hospital, the casts finally removed.

Carrie's legs were wobbly, and she was sweating profusely from the effort, but she was determined to walk into the house on her own two feet, albeit with the help of a walker.

"Don't overdo it," I cautioned from close behind, my arm at her back, ready to grab and support her at any moment.

"I can..do this," she puffed, her face red but her eyes defiant.

I tried to talk her into using the garage entrance to avoid the steps at the front door, but Carrie insisted. Taking the walker from her, I stood tense behind her as she gripped the handrail and took her first step. Then her second. On the third, her foot didn't quite clear the stair and she stumbled. I caught her just in time.

"Okay, that's enough," I said firmly. Slowly I guided her into a seated position on the stoop. I opened the front door then, scooping her up, carried her into the house.

"Sorry, dad," Carrie sighed as I eased her into bed. "Guess I still have some recovering to do."

"You've lost some muscle mass in your legs, but you'll grow stronger soon enough," I comforted her. "And remember, you're starting physical therapy first thing Monday. In the meantime, we have the weekend. Just relax, take things slowly. Maybe tomorrow we can actually get you in the pool for a bit, that would be a good start."

"That sounds awesome, I miss swimming. Plus I really need to even my tan now, my arms and legs are so pale," she said. "Plus all this...hair. Ugh."

Her blue eyes looked up at me. "Would you help me shave them? I don't trust my hands with a razor just yet."

"Later," I chuckled. "For now, just get some rest. It's kinda late to start cooking. You want a pizza?"

"From Guitanos?" Carrie asked hopefully.

"Of course. Only the best."

Carrie wound up sleeping in her own room that night. I'd kept the rented hospital bed for now. When I was sure she was fully recovered, I'd have them pick it up and put her own bed back, but for the time being it was still helpful in elevating and supporting her healed but weakened limbs.

I let her sleep in while I fixed breakfast. I was just plating the food when Carrie came into the kitchen.

"Surprise! Good morning, Daddy!"

"Hey, good morning. You're getting pretty good on that thing already," I grinned, indicating the walker.

"Yeah, I even made it to the bathroom on my own," she said proudly. "No more port-a-potty, thank goodness!"

As I watched her take a seat at the kitchen table, cradling the cup of coffee I'd poured for her carefully in both hands, I couldn't help but smile at how relaxed her dress code around me had become since all this started.

Obviously dressing in certain clothes had been far more difficult with the casts on, and so Carrie had spent much of the past several weeks wearing only loose fitting nightgowns or baggy sweat shorts and tops with large open sleeves or no sleeves at all.

She'd slept in a nightgown last night, but was now wearing a skin tight pair of black boy shorts and a matching sports bra with a white elastic band that ran along the bottom. While I remembered her wearing those kinds of shorts around the house before, I never recalled her wearing only a sports bra. Not that it was any more revealing than her bikini or some of the more low cut blouses or dresses in her wardrobe, but still, it wasn't something a daughter typically wore so casually in front of her father.

Of course, we were now far beyond a "typical" father / daughter relationship.

After breakfast, I made good on my promise to help shave her legs. We did it in the shower, still using the chair of course, and although she didn't need to get naked, Carrie casually removed both her bra and shorts anyway. Seeing her fully nude still left me breathless, every time. And I was pretty sure she knew that.

Still, we managed to contain ourselves for the moment to take care of the task at hand, and within minutes, her legs were smooth and hairless.

"Great job," Carrie beamed, running her hands along them, feeling for stubble. "Not even a nick!"

Just watching her bend to caress her legs, her breasts hanging and jiggling with her movements, got my pulse quickening.

Carrie must have noticed something. "I know that look," she grinned, "and I'm feeling it too. But can it wait? I really wanna get out to the pool."

"Of course, princess," I smiled softly. "I'm nothing if not...patient."

Helping her out of the bathtub and into her bathing suit, we soon found ourselves in the pool.

Staying in the shallow end, Carrie slowly eased herself into the water with my guidance. Once her feet found the bottom, she turned so that her back was along the edge of the pool. Then, leaning back and using her arms for support, she allowed her legs to float upwards, kicking them slowly.

She stopped after a few seconds. "I could use your help."

I moved into the water beside her, putting one arm under her back, the other supporting her thighs just below her butt.

Now almost vertical, and with me there to keep her from slipping, Carrie again began to work her legs, more vigorously this time, kicking up a frothy splash.

After several minutes she took a break. We then practiced walking in the water. While I stood right by her side the entire time, I barely had to help hold her up.

"You're doing much better than I expected this soon," I remarked. "Just be careful not to push yourself too hard though."

Carrie nodded. "Yeah, I think I do need a break for now."

I helped her out and she took her seat in the pool chair with a tired huff.

Carrie's hands were working just fine now, but I still helped put the suntan lotion on her. "Remember to cover these up if you feel them starting to burn," I reminded her, still caressing her calves with my oil covered hands. On a whim, I tickled her still wrinkly feet.

"Daddy! Oh my god, stop!" Carrie giggled. "My feet are so ugly right now. I so need a pedicure!"

I relented from my torture. "Book an appointment, I'll take you whenever they can get you in. Mani, pedi, haircut, waxing, anything you want, kiddo. It's on me."

"Thank you, Daddy!" Carrie squealed with joy. "Maybe...can we go shopping, too? I'm thinking of getting some new outfits for school."

"Of course," I smiled. "I took the next two weeks off so I can focus on getting you to therapy and anything else you need between now and when school starts."

"Anything?" Carrie purred slyly.

Pulling myself up from beside her feet, I leaned over her, giving her a loving, definitely not fatherly kiss. "Anything you want, princess."

"Well I certainly have a few...ideas," said Carrie, "starting with lunch. I'm starving!"

We ate our lunch outside under the shade of the patio. "Oh, before I forget," I said, "Jenna and her boyfriend are coming next Saturday to go over the investment plan I'm putting together for her."

"Yeah, I know, I already spoke to her a couple days ago, remember?"

Jenna was the daughter of an old friend and client of mine, Brandon Sinclair. Carrie and Jenna had been friends when they were kids, but after Brandon's divorce they saw less of each other. Then Shelle died, and a few years later, so did Brandon. I believe the last two times the girls had seen each other were at the funerals.

Jenna had come into her inheritance money, and our mutual lawyer Ted Rivers had sent her to me to help her work out the tax situation and find ways to help grow what was already a nice little nest egg. I was more than happy to help, and while I don't usually plan business on the weekends, it was the only day they'd be available to come. It would also give the girls some time to hang out and catch up, especially since Carrie would be starting her freshman year of college at the same campus Jenna went to.

"It'll be great to see her again," Carrie continued. "At least I'll know one person at college now."

"Did she tell you about her boyfriend?" I asked. Ted had already informed me of the details of Jenna's new relationship, but I was curious if she'd said anything to Carrie.

"She told me he's...older," answered Carrie. "A lot older. Old enough to be her father."

"And you don't find that...odd?"

Carrie gave an exasperated sigh. "Jeez, Dad, I really don't think you're in a position to be judgemental, do you?"

Taken aback for the moment, I considered that. Then, shaking my head with a small laugh, "No, I suppose not."

Jenna was twenty now. Old enough to make her own choices. And I certainly couldn't claim any moral high ground, considering what I'd been doing with my own nineteen year old daughter.

And what I was PLANNING on doing.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in and out of the pool, Carrie working on her exercises and, during breaks, on her tan.

Eventually we called it quits. Well, more like I had to finally make her stop. Despite my warnings, she had pushed herself to the point of exhaustion.

I brought her inside and helped her clean up, and while I once again found myself getting aroused while helping her in the shower, both of us were worn out to the point where a nap took precedence over our desires.

"Dad?" Carrie's voice was soft, sleepy, as she cuddled next to me in my bed. "We're not...done, now, are we? Now that I'm, you know, better?"

I hugged her closer. "Not unless you want to be done, sweetheart."

Carrie's breath was warm and sweet as she sighed. "No, definitely not. I want...more. And I know you do, too. I just wanna wait til I'm...stronger, before we, well..."

"Is that why you pushed yourself so hard today? Trying to build back your strength as fast as you can?"

There was a pause before she answered. "Maybe."

I leaned over and kissed her. "I get it, I do. But there's no need to rush it. Focus on recovering. When it's time, you'll know. Till then, I can wait."

Carrie looked up at me, her eyes half closed. "You're right. Thank you, Daddy."

Moments later she was fast asleep.

-----------------------------------------------------

I awoke to a dark room. Seemed we'd slept longer than we'd expected.

I slipped out quietly to go fix dinner, and Carrie again joined me shortly after, wearing the same shorts and bra from this morning, nothing more.

As we ate, we discussed plans for the week and the things she'd need for school. In just a few weeks, she'd be leaving home, and while the college was only a few hours away by car, it still meant I wouldn't be seeing her that often.

"You look sad." Carrie looked concerned. "You gonna be okay when I'm gone?"

I smiled wistfully. "I'll be fine, kiddo. I'll just...miss you."

"I'll miss you too," she said. "But I can plan to come home on weekends, or..."

"Carrie, look," I stopped her. "I don't want you worrying about me. I want you to go, enjoy yourself, make new friends, get out, go places with them. Have a fun, happy, normal college experience. Maybe even..."

I hesitated for a moment, steeling myself. "...maybe even meet a guy. You know, have a...normal relationship."

Now it was Carrie who looked sad, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "I know. But I'll miss...this. Us."

"We still have a few weeks," I smiled reassuringly. "And we can share it in...whatever way you want. But this can't go on forever. You realize that, right? Eventually we have to work this out of our systems and move on with our lives. Especially you. I don't want you holding yourself back from experiencing life and love and relationships because you're clinging to dear old Dad."