This story starts at Christmas, I was home from University for the vacation. Home was and remains, a large farmhouse, at that time the property of my maternal grandmother. The farm itself, also belonged to her having been left to her by my great-grandfather. Mother's sister Emma and her husband worked the farm, Granny the family matriarch owned and had until recently actively controlled it all.
Granny was old, physically infirm and we all thought her once sharp brain was in decline. If you know about British social care funding laws you will understand why my mother insisted we live with her mother and take care of her – this was my mother's inheritance. If the council, social work department provided carers, they would put a charge on the house and take it when Granny died.
Christmas was over, the New Year hang-over still present when my father asked me about my itinerary for the year. "Uni this term," I replied adding. "Back here at Easter, then two days at Uni for term registration, Then back here for five weeks to finish my dissertation, hand that in then revision for two weeks. Followed by sitting my finals."
"Good," said Dad. "In that case Easter I am taking your Mum for a well deserved break. You can look after your Granny."
I blanched, looking after Granny for a couple of hours was one thing – and I was not very good at it. But looking after an incontinent, somewhat demented old lady for seven weeks was terrifying. "But I have to go away for registration." I had thought that this was my trump card.
Dad was ready. "It is fine I knew that, so I have arranged with Aunty Emma, that she will come across for those two days."
So it came about, the before Friday before Good Friday, I returned home, over the next four days mother gave me a crash course in caring for Granny. Mother showed me what to do. Granny's medicines, what they were, how and when to give them; how to fill out a repeat prescription request; contact number for the doctors surgery. How to dress and undress my grandmother, it felt strange doing so intimate things to an old lady, especially an old lady who had always been a part of my life, When I spoke about my feelings to my mother, she said I should forget the person I was caring for was my granny, just regard her as a job to be done.
The worst was learning how to change her incontinence pads. Mother said always to wear exam gloves as this helped establish a working connection in place of the family connection. I noticed a change in mother's demeanour as soon as she did any caring, she donned her apron and gloves and became very Matron like! I almost burst into a fit of giggles the first time that I witnessed this transformation.
At last the day arrived. The Wednesday before Good Friday, my mother, father, Granny and me with Mum and Dad's bags crammed into the Land Rover. We, Granny and I left them at the airport, flying to Australia to visit my older sister. Granny and I drove the four and a half hours home.
It was then my duties began. Not only had Granny wet herself, but she'd done the other as well. Using my arm as a crutch I got her out of the Land Rover., into the house and straight into the bathroom. I had no lustful thoughts – the stench saw to that. In an impersonal way I ran Granny's bath, helped her out of her clothes and into the warm bath. "Will you be OK Gran?" I asked gathering her clothes.
"I'm fine Joe I'm not a child" she responded tartly. I took her clothes, sluiced them and put them in the washing machine.
Granny was lying in the bath soaping herself when I returned. I dipped my fingers in the bath to check the water was still warm. "Jump in if you want Joe," she said and cackled with laughter which ended in a coughing fit.
It was when she got out of the bath, an operation that involved me half lifting her, that I noticed her body. First impression she was like a little doll, just over five feet tall and weighing about one hundred and ten pounds, little more than skin and bone. A flat stomach and skinny arse, legs and arms like matchsticks. Her size was not to do with age, she had always been small. Her tits must have been large when she was younger, but now at seventy-five they were near empty bags which hung like a pair of drained udders to her waist. It was her nipples which drew my attention, each at least as long and as thick as my thumb – as firm as a cow's teat. I found myself having to fight against an impulse to play with them.
"Lets get you dry." I said, wrapping Granny in a thick bath towel. I towelled her dry. It was no good, despite my best intentions I succumbed to lust. Accidentally taking advantage of the opportunity toying with her teats. Granny opened her legs in a lewd invitation, so I could dry her. By now movement was difficult, my erection seemed to be fighting against my briefs. Once dry I followed Granny into her bedroom to get dressed, while behind her I was able to rearrange myself. I watched as she packed her flaccid breasts into her bra, then pulled on a sweat shirt top. She did not appear to have noticed the bulge in my jeans, probably an age thing, I thought. Without me telling her to, she hopped onto the bed, "I'll let you put my pad on." She said, spreading her thighs and affording me an intimate, close-up view of her genitalia. Could she read my mind? Did she see the lust in my eyes? No I do not think so, it was just my mother usually put her incontinence pad on, I recalled when Granny had done it there were often disasters.
It is like changing a baby, after drying her I had to apply moisturising cream. When mum showed me I had not really looked at Granny's body. Now was different, here I was applying slippery gel to Granny's sex bits and I was sure I noticed her old clit twitch and her hips give a perceptible wriggle. Was that a smile on her lips? By the time I had her pants on, I had a half hard. I was embarrassed to admit it, even to myself but I had got aroused.
Granny and I had something to eat then settled down to watch television. By eight o'clock Granny was dozing, her head slumped. She always did this in the evening, I did what my mother always did, gently awakened her, made her a warm drink, gave her the pills she took every evening, toileted her. She washed her face, then removed both sets of dentures, I put them to soak overnight. In her bedroom I helped her out of her day clothes and into her nightdress so she was ready her for bed. She got on the bed, lifted her nightdress, was there a smile on her face. "Now you have to change my pad." Changing her pad I hoped that Granny did not notice my rampant erection. My final task was to make a half mug of drinking chocolate for Granny, and to give her the medicines she took. I made myself a mug of coffee and together we drank our night-cap.
I picked up her empty mug. "Night gran," I said I bent over her, my lips brushing her forehead, a platonic kiss.
"Night Joe." She seemed normal – compos mentis – then said, "Where's Elise?"
Elise is mother's name. "It's alright gran she is away on holiday with dad. We drove them to the airport, don't you remember?"
"Oh silly me – a little memory lapse, of course we did. For a moment I'd forgotten."
Once Granny was in bed I left her. Now I could get on with my dissertation, "The decline of the Roman Family 1st c bce to 4th c ce", a dusty subject with a hint of sex – I had wanted to write about sex and gladiatrix, but unfortunately I could not find enough material, so the Roman Family was my subject – fascinating to those who are interested. As there would be only the two of us in the house I allocated the dining room to myself as a study. The long oak Refectory dining table was covered with my text books and note books, at one end there was a clear area, my workspace. Here was my laptop.
