A Helping Hand Ch. 01 (Patreon)

Claire had always enjoyed caring for the elderly. Something was rewarding about making their day a little easier, listening to their stories, and giving them the care they needed. That’s why she was in this line of work. 

The agency she worked for on the side had been rather honest with her from the start when she was offered a new assignment. “Mr. Lampert can be rather unpleasant,” her supervisor told her during the briefing. “Two caretakers have already quit in the last few months. He lives alone, and his family tries to help, but he refuses most of their offers. He’s as stubborn as they come, so you can probably understand why we stress caution with this one.”

Claire was a bit skeptical. The warnings were as clear as day based on the reports she read. But the pay bump was significantly better than her usual shifts at the hospital. She could use the extra money since she and her husband, Daniel, just bought a new house. 

Later that evening, she sat across from Daniel at their kitchen table. He was scrolling through his phone while absentmindedly eating his dinner. 

“So… I picked up an extra job,” she said just before taking a bite of food from her fork. “You know that side job I do, caretaking for the elderly? I just took on an assignment.”

Daniel looked up from his phone with a curious expression. “Oh? Didn’t know you still did that. Is your job not paying enough?”

Claire shrugged. “Hm, it’s just a way to earn some extra money. And I’ve been trying to work a few shifts less at the hospital. Oh, did I mention the pay is pretty good? Very good actually.”

Daniel hummed quietly to himself and suspiciously arched his brow. “There’s a catch, isn't there?”

She let out a long, resigned sigh and leaned back in her chair. “Yeah… His name is Vick Lampert. Apparently, he’s a bit… difficult. I heard stories about him floating around from previous caretakers.”

He crossed his arms and studied her for a moment. “You sure about this? You don’t have to take it if it’s going to be stressful.”

Claire smiled softly and reached for his hand across the table. “I’ve dealt with worse. This is way easier than working night shifts at the hospital. Handling disgruntled old people is what I’m good at.”

Daniel nodded slowly, though he still looked a little unsure. “Hmm… Alright, if you say so. Just be sure to be careful. No amount of money is worth the stress.”

She squeezed his hand. “I know. Thank you.”

After dinner, Claire settled on the couch with her laptop and opened the file the agency sent her about Vick. She wanted to get a better sense of what she was walking into. 

The file was fairly detailed. The man was sixty-five years old and lived alone in an older two-story house on a quiet side of town. He had high blood pressure, and he often complained about stiffness and pain, especially in his lower back. However, she noticed a pattern in the comments from the previous caretakers. Both had written that his “arthritis” seemed convenient. One wrote, “He claims it acts up whenever he doesn’t want to do something for himself.” The other added, “Suspect he exaggerates his pain to make the job harder or to test new caretakers.”

Claire raised an eyebrow as she contemplated to herself. So, he might be playing it up… Hmm, this might be harder than I thought.

She checked the weekly schedule next: Four days a week, three to four hours per visit, mostly mornings or early afternoons. Light housekeeping, meal prep, medication reminders, and assistance with his back when needed were expected. The agency recommended massages for his “stiffness.”

Claire closed her laptop and let out a slow breath. It didn’t sound too bad. A bit challenging, yes, but nothing she couldn’t handle. If worse came to worst, she wasn’t afraid to put the old man in his place, if needed. 

The next morning, Claire got ready for her first day. She slipped into a comfortable, but professional pair of fitted light-blue medical scrubs. The top gently hugged her full breasts and trim waist, while the pants accentuated her curvy hips and toned legs. Her fair skin glowed warmly with the soft blue fabric. She brushed her long, wavy blonde hair and pulled it back into a neat ponytail, with a few strands framing her pretty face. After adding a touch of makeup, she grabbed her bag.

Just before leaving, she found Daniel in the kitchen finishing his coffee. She walked over and wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. 

“I’m off to my new job,” she said softly. “Wish me luck with the grumpy one.”

Daniel turned around and smiled, returning the hug. “Alright, good luck, babe. Try not to let him get to you.” He leaned in and kissed her tenderly while his hand drifted to her waist. The kiss lingered for a moment before he pulled back. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Claire replied with a sweet, warm smile. She gave him one last quick kiss on the cheek and headed for the door. 

When she arrived at the old two-story house, her supervisor was already waiting outside with a clipboard in hand. The woman gave her a quick smile and led her up the porch steps. 

“Well then… Ready?” she asked with a slight, uneasy undertone. “Just remember what we talked about. Stay professional and don’t let him get under your skin. He’ll listen… eventually.”

Claire nodded and followed her inside. The house smelled like menthol, old wood, and faint medicine. They walked down the hall until they found Vick Lampert sitting in his worn recliner in the living room, wearing a faded gray bathrobe. 

He was a short, wiry old man, balding on the top of his head with only a thin sliver of hair on the sides. His pale, wrinkled skin and sharp, beady eyes gave him a perpetually grumpy appearance. Claire's hazel eyes widened slightly, but not in surprise. He looked exactly as she thought he would, based on what she had heard about him. 

He glanced over at the approaching footsteps, not even giving them a proper look before returning his attention to the television ahead. 

“Good morning, Mr. Lampert,” her supervisor greeted lightly. “How are you feeling today?”

Vick groaned loudly and waved his hand dismissively at them. “Augh, can’t you people just leave me alone already? I’m doing fine on my own. I don’t need another babysitter hovering around me.”

The supervisor just let out a resigned sigh, gently guided Claire by the arm, and presented her to him. “Well, fortunately for me, that is not up to you,” she said gently. “This is Claire, your new caretaker. She’ll be coming four days a week to help out. Try not to make this one quit, she’s a good one.”

Vick reluctantly lifted his gaze. His beady eyes widened slightly the second he saw her, moving slowly up and down her body. His grumpy expression shifted almost immediately, and a crooked smirk crept at the corner of his thin lips. 

“Oh? Well now…” he muttered, his sour tone changing completely. “This is definitely an improvement.” He leaned forward a little in his chair, giving Claire another look. “Way better than those dried-up old hags they sent. Much nicer to look at. I might enjoy this.”

Claire could only smile awkwardly. The man was definitely as crude as they said he was. Her supervisor cleared her throat loudly. “Ahem, please, Mr. Lampert. Mind your manners.”

The old man just chuckled before settling back into his chair, his eyes never leaving Claire’s alluring figure. He hungrily licked his lips. “So… Claire, is it?” he began, his tone low and devious. “Come here so I can get a better look at you.”

Before Claire could respond, her supervisor stepped in smoothly.

“Let me give you a quick tour of the house first, so you know where everything is,” the woman said, motioning Claire to follow her. “Mr. Lampert, we’ll be back.”

Vick grunted but didn’t protest as the two women moved through the house. The supervisor showed Claire the kitchen, pointing out the cabinet above the sink where Vick’s meds were kept. “Blood pressure pills in the morning, arthritis medication in the evening. They’re all labeled clearly. There’s a notepad here for any notes or changes. He usually eats around noon. Keep it light. And if he asks for fast food, don’t give him any.”

They continued through the main floor, with the supervisor pointing out the bathroom and explaining his general routine and preferences. Claire took it all in, nodding along as they went. 

Once the short tour was finished, the supervisor gave Claire an encouraging smile. “You got this. I’ll check in with you tomorrow. Call the agency right away if you need anything. We’re happy to assist you in any way.”

With that, the woman offered one last farewell to Vick before heading out the front door, leaving Claire with her latest assignment. 

Vick’s beady eyes fixed back onto her as she returned to the living room. His lecherous little smirk returned. “Finally. Just you and me now.” He shifted in his recliner and winced. “Could you be a sweetheart and grab me something to drink?”

Claire gave him a small nod. “Of course, Mr. Lampert. Water or juice?”

“Water’s fine,” he replied, waving a bony hand. 

She headed into the kitchen, filled a glass of water, and brought it to him. As she handed it over, Vick’s eyes drifted shamelessly down her body again. 

“You know…” he began slowly, taking the glass from her hand, “those scrubs look a lot better on you than they did on the last girls. Really shows off that figure of yours. Hehe.”

Claire didn’t respond to the comment. She simply smiled politely and turned away to start on some light tidying. She picked up a few scattered magazines from the coffee table, then noticed some loose laundry on the floor near the recliner. Bending over, she picked them up. But as she did, she couldn’t help but feel Vick’s stare burning into her. 

“Damn,” the old man muttered under his breath. “What a view.”

Claire just barely heard his vulgar comment, and she chose to ignore it. She quickly straightened and carried the laundry toward the hamper. Vick took another sip of water, clearly enjoying himself. 

“So, tell me, Claire,” he said, his tone casual but probing. “You married?”

She paused for a moment before answering. “Yes, I am.”

Vick hummed thoughtfully to himself, though the sound didn’t seem like he was disappointed at all. If anything, the sly smirk on his face deepened. 

“Married, huh?” he repeated, leaning back in his chair. “Lucky man. Though I bet he doesn’t appreciate what he’s got.”

Claire continued working without replying, wiping down a side table and straightening some pillows. Vick’s eyes followed her every movement around the room, hungry and eager.

As the afternoon went on, his comments kept coming. 

While she was dusting the shelves, he muttered, “You bend over like that, and a man could get used to having you here.”

When she reached up to wipe a higher surface, the fabric of her scrubs stretched across the swell of her chest. The old man gave a low whistle. “Those clothes are doing the Lord’s work.”

Claire mostly ignored the remarks, offering only polite, minimal responses. As disgusted as she was, she knew that giving him a reaction would only make things worse. She remained focused on the itinerary: tidying where she could, preparing his light lunch, and making sure he took his medications. 

He’s just a dirty old man, she thought to herself. Luckily, the money was enough to tolerate the suggestive comments. 

A bit later, as she bent over to pick up some loose socks near the couch, Vick suddenly leaned forward from his recliner. His bony hand shot out and gave her ass a firm squeeze. 

Claire let out a startled gasp, immediately straightening up and turning around to look at him. “Mr. Lampert,” she said firmly with her hands braced on her hips, though her tone stayed relatively calm. “That’s not appropriate. Please keep your hands to yourself.”

Vick just chuckled, not looking sorry at all. He leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grin. “Aw, come on, sweetheart. Can’t blame a man for appreciating such a fine woman when she’s right in front of him.”

Claire gave him a warning look but didn’t push the issue further. She turned back to her work, though she could still feel his eyes on her the entire time. Vick wasn’t discouraged at all. Hell, her reaction was just the kind he wanted. 

As the afternoon went on, his comments kept coming. 

“Bet that husband of yours doesn’t squeeze it like that, does he?” he said with a wicked little smirk while she folded towels nearby. 

He hummed appreciatively every time she moved around the room. “You know, I think I’m feeling better already just having you here. Where have you been all this time? You’re just what I needed, heh!”

Claire felt a flicker of reluctance and mild disgust at his words. She rolled her eyes with her back to him, continuing her work. She dealt with patients like this before. This was no different. 

A little while later, as she leaned over the coffee table to straighten some items, Vick reached out again. His bony hand landed on her ass once more, giving her a firm grope and squeeze.

Claire jerked straight instantly as a wave of discomfort washed over her. She spun around, her hazel eyes narrowing slightly. “Mr. Lampert,” she said firmly. “I told you that’s not okay. Please stop touching me like that.”

Vick just chuckled and leaned back with a smug grin. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m just being friendly. Consider this my way of saying thank you. A body like yours deserves some appreciation. No harm in an old man simply enjoying himself.”

She gave him a long, dry look, internally repulsed by his boldness. She turned away and returned to her tasks, making a conscious effort to stay professional. Relax, Claire… don’t let him get to you. 

The rest of the day dragged on with more of the same. Vick kept making suggestive little comments every chance he got, but Claire stayed focused on finishing her duties. By the time her hours were up, she was more than ready to leave. 

As she gathered her bag and headed for the door, Vick called out from his recliner. 

“See you tomorrow, beautiful.”

Claire’s eye twitched slightly, but she forced a polite smile and nodded. “Goodbye, Mr. Lampert. See you tomorrow.”

She stepped outside and let out a long breath as she walked to her car. Just a dirty old man, she reminded herself again. The pay was good. That was what mattered. 

When she got home that evening, Daniel was already setting the table for dinner. The familiar smell of home-cooked food helped ease some of the day’s tension. She washed up quickly and joined him at the table. 

“So, how was your first day?” Daniel asked as they started eating. “Was the guy as bad as they warned?”

Claire took a bite and gave a small shrug. “It went about as expected,” she answered calmly. “He’s definitely grumpy and a bit… difficult, but I managed. Nothing I can’t handle.”

She left out all of the crude comments and the way he groped her. There was no point in worrying, Daniel. She would deal with Vick on her own. 

Daniel nodded, looking relieved. “That’s good. Just remember what I said. If it gets too much, you can always quit.”

“I know,” she replied with a soft smile. She reached out and squeezed his hand. “Thanks, babe.”

As they continued eating and talking about their day, Claire tried to push the memory of Vick’s lecherous smirk out of her mind. Tomorrow would be another long shift, but for now, she was home, safe with her husband.

The next few days followed a similar pattern. Claire would show up each morning, professional and polite, while Vick grew bolder with every visit. His comments became more frequent and explicit. He no longer waited for her to bend over, and he openly stared at her chest and ass whenever she moved around the house. The old bastard usually liked to sneak in a grope whenever she helped him up from his chair. 

Claire endured it all. She felt the constant barrage of his lecherous behavior, but she reminded herself of the excellent pay and remained undeterred. He’s just a dirty old man, she’d always repeat to herself. Don’t let him win. 

One afternoon, as Vick sat in the kitchen eating the lunch she had prepared, he watched Claire at the sink washing the dishes. His beady eyes traced the delectable curves of her hips and the way her scrubs hugged her plush ass as she moved. In his dirty mind, he stripped the scrubs off her completely. He imagined her standing there naked, milky skin glistening, perfect breasts swaying slightly as she worked, while that thick ass was on full display for him. 

Vick felt his cock twitch and slowly harden under his robe. It had been a long time since he’d gotten this worked up. The real thing was definitely better than porn. He shifted in his seat, eyes never leaving her body. The more he watched her, the stronger the primal urge within him became. 

Fuck… I need to have her, he thought. He reached down and adjusted his stiff cock under the table. One way or another, I’m going to get inside that married pussy.

Claire gradually got used to Vick’s lecherous ways. His constant staring, crude comments, and occasional “accidental” touches became part of the routine. She no longer flinched or got visibly annoyed every time. Instead, she simply let out a quiet sigh and tuned him out. She even began to find it amusing in some strange way she couldn’t properly describe.

One morning, while she was helping Vick with his medication in the kitchen, he leaned back in his chair and eyed her with that familiar hungry look. 

“Ah, good morning, beautiful. I can’t get over how good you look in those scrubs. I’m starting to think you’re teasing me,” he said while his eyes drifted onto her chest. “Every day you come in here looking like that… you trying to give me a heart attack, woman?”

Claire paused while filling his glass. She turned slightly and gave him a dry look; the corner of her mouth twitched a little despite herself. 

“Mr. Lampert, if I wanted to give you a heart attack, I’d wear something a lot smaller,” she replied casually, surprising even herself with this sudden light banter. “You should really learn some manners about how to talk to a married woman.”

Vick let out a surprised laugh, clearly delighted that she was finally playing along. “Oh-ho! Listen to you. Got some fire in ya today. I like it. Makes me wonder what else that mouth can do.”

Claire rolled her eyes and turned back to the counter, but a small, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. Why am I even entertaining this bastard? She thought to herself. This doesn’t help me at all. He’s my patient… I’m married… Ugh… What is he doing to me?

Yet something about the ridiculousness of this situation had started to rub off on her. This short, wiry, dirty old man, constantly trying his luck, was oddly charming in some deranged way. She told herself it was just a way to make the long hours pass more easily. This didn’t mean anything since there would be no way in hell she’d let him even get a chance, right?

Vick watched her closely, his smirk deepening as he sensed her internal struggle. “You know you like the attention, sweetheart. Otherwise, you would’ve quit like the others weeks ago. Deep down, you enjoy having an old pervert like me appreciating that sexy body of yours every day.”

Claire wiped the counter a little harder than necessary as her cheeks began to warm. Fuck… I shouldn’t have done that, she said to herself. I really shouldn’t have.

Over the next few days, the dynamic between Claire and Vick began to shift. 

The constant flirting and banter became routine. What started with the occasional sharp replies slowly turned into playful back-and-forth that left her a little flustered more often than she wanted to admit.

One afternoon, while forcing Vick to get up and eat at the table instead of the recliner, he complained and grinned slyly as he usually would. “Augh, you’re awfully bossy for someone who’s supposed to be taking care of me,” he teased. “I think you just like telling me what to do.”

Claire set his plate down in front of him and crossed her arms under her chest. “Someone has to. If I left you on your own, you’d sit in that chair until you turned into a fossil. Now eat.”

Vick chuckled and took a bite, but his eyes never left her body. “Keep talking to me like that, and I might just let you boss me around in the bedroom later.”

Claire’s eyes widened slightly, and her cheeks warmed. She rolled her eyes, but the small smile on her face gave her away. “Just eat, Mr. Lampert. You’re disgusting.”

“I saw that smile, hehe,” she shot back. “I think you’re starting to like it.”

The next day, she was helping him with some light stretching exercises she finally managed to get him to do in the living room. Each time she reached over to guide his arm, his hands would “accidentally” brush across her ass multiple times. 

“Mr. Lampert… you’re getting handsy again,” Claire warned, though there wasn’t any real sharpness to her tone. 

“Hm? Oh, me? Hehe, I can’t help myself,” he replied with a devious grin. “You walk around in those scrubs all day with an ass like that. It’s almost impossible not to touch.”

She shook her head with a small smirk at her lips. The constant flirting was definitely getting to her now. She knew it was wrong to let this man keep talking to her the way he did, but she kept letting it happen. She rationalized that there was no point in trying to make him stop, so she just embraced it in a way. There was also a small part of her that enjoyed the attention. The constant reminder of how much he praised her body certainly made her feel good about herself. 

But it was all harmless banter, nothing more, right?

By the end of the week, a tension she couldn’t exactly put a finger on grew between them. Vick had grown beyond bold, letting his words fly shamelessly. Claire flustered more, and a subtle heat began to form between her legs every time he said something crude or groped her. 

She kept trying to remind herself that she had to remain professional, but Vick’s overtures were getting harder to brush off as the days went on. 

One evening, Claire glanced at the clock and sighed. “Mr. Lampert, it’s time for your shower before I head home for the day,” she said, standing in the middle of the living room. ‘

Vick groaned dramatically from his recliner and slowly made his way toward the bedroom. Claire followed closely behind to help him up the stairs. “I can get up on my own,” the old man grumbled. She ignored him, smirking a bit as she kept a gentle hand on his back.

They entered his room, and as soon as they reached the bed, he collapsed onto it with an exaggerated wince, clutching his lower back. “Ahh… damn it,” he hissed. “My back is killing me again. It’s too painful tonight. I don’t think I can last in the shower.”

Claire crossed her arms, giving him a skeptical look. She had seen this before. “What was it you said earlier, “I can get up on my own?” she said dryly. Vick just answered with another painful groan. “Mr. Lampert, you only take five-minute showers.”

“Five minutes too long!” he groaned, dramatically grabbing his lower back. “It hurts too much to walk or even stand right now. Please, Claire… I can barely move.”

She let out a long, resigned sigh through her nose and rubbed her temple. She knew he was most likely exaggerating, but she didn’t have the energy to go back and forth with him. 

“What do you suggest then?” she replied, but she already knew the answer.

Vick’s eyes glinted slightly with hidden satisfaction. “You could just bathe me here in bed. Nice and easy. Wouldn’t want me going to bed dirty, would you, dear?”

Claire stood there for a long moment. She pursed her lips and leered at him, knowing exactly where this was heading. It was obvious that this dirty old man just wanted to be naked in front of her and be touched by her. Still, she finally nodded. This wasn’t the first time she bathed an elderly person. 

“Fine,” she said reluctantly. “Just a quick bath. That’s it.”

She went to the bathroom and returned with a basin of warm water, a washcloth, soap, and a clean towel. Vick watched her every movement hungrily as she set everything on the nightstand. She took a steadying breath before proceeding.

“I’ll need to remove your robe and pants so I can wash you properly, of course,” Claire informed, keeping her voice as neutral and professional as possible.

Vick gave a small nod, though the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth was unmistakable. Claire leaned over and untied his faded gray bathrobe, sliding it off his skinny shoulders and exposing his pale, wrinkled torso. She then reached for his pajama pants. Her fingers trembled slightly as she gripped the waistband and slowly pulled it down. He wasn’t wearing any underwear. Of course. She wasn’t expecting much, however. He was a short, wiry old man after all. His penis was probably small and shriveled up. 

But as the fabric slid lower, she felt an unusual bulge of resistance. Without paying any mind, she simply tugged harder until his cock suddenly sprang free.

Claire froze, her hazel eyes widened in genuine shock. His manhood was thick, veiny, and much larger than she ever would have imagined for a man like him. Even only half-hard, it was heavy and throbbing against his thigh. She stared at it for a second longer than she should have before quickly looking away, her cheeks burning. 

What the fuck? Oh my god, oh my god! She screamed to herself as her heart pounded. H-how is that possible?!

Vick noticed her reaction immediately. His smirk deepened into a devious grin as he lay there completely naked, clearly enjoying her flustered state. 

Claire swallowed hard and finished pulling his pants all the way off, trying to remain as professional as humanly possible. 

Focus, Claire. Focus, she reminded herself. I’m just bathing this old bastard… nothing more. 

Claire dipped the washcloth into the warm, soapy water and began washing Vick’s chest and arms with careful, steady movements. She tried to stay focused on the task at hand, but her eyes kept flicking down to his cock. Even half-hard, it was so unexpected for him to be carrying that thing around. 

Unfortunately for her, Vick was too perceptive. His devious little smirk grew as he watched her with amusement. 

“What’s the matter, Claire?” he said with feigned innocence. “Something the matter?”

Claire’s cheeks flushed, and she cleared her throat loudly. “It’s nothing,” she muttered, quickly looking away and continuing to wash his stomach. But her gaze returned again and again. She simply couldn’t help it. He was big, far bigger than her husband. 

As she worked lower, Vick’s cock began to respond. It slowly thickened and lengthened, growing harder right before her eyes until it stood heavy and fully erect against his lower belly. 

Claire’s breath caught in her throat as her mind raced. This is ridiculous. He’s an old man. How is he this big? 

Vick chuckled. “Could you be a dear and clean down there, too? Wouldn’t want to miss any spots.”

She shot him a suspicious side eye and saw his somewhat neutral expression. He seemed awfully calm about all of this despite his cock being almost fully erect. But despite that, she was surprised he hadn’t said anything crude to her yet. 

With a quiet sigh, she carefully reached down and lifted his heavy cock with two fingers so she could wash around his crotch and balls. The moment she touched him, Vick let out a low, pleased groan. 

Claire’s heart hammered in her chest as she felt the warmth and weight of him against her fingertips. He was rock hard now, veins standing out along his thick shaft. She tried to stay clinical, but her mind kept spinning. Why am I doing this? I shouldn’t be touching another man’s penis… As awkward as this was for her, she reasoned that this was strictly professional. This didn’t mean anything. She was just performing her duties as a caretaker. Just so long as he or she doesn’t address what’s happening, things will go smoothly. 

Vick’s hips slightly shifted, clearly enjoying the feel of her holding his cock. “Careful with that. It’s sensitive.” 

Claire winced at his words. Of course… She quickly finished cleaning the area and let go of his cock, letting it flop against his thigh. “Turn over,” she said firmly, though her voice was a little unsteady. “Let me do your back.”

She helped roll him onto his stomach, grateful for the chance to look at something other than his throbbing erection. But even as she washed his back, the image of his big, hard cock stayed burned in her mind. 

Once she finished washing Vick’s back, she carefully rolled him over onto his back again. She braced, hoping he’d be soft, but he remained fully hard, standing thick and heavy.

Then suddenly, Vick let out a long, pained groan, his face twisting dramatically. “Ahhh…. Fuck, it hurts so bad!” the old man complained. 

Claire froze, startled a bit with the washcloth in hand. “What’s the matter now?”

Vick pointed a bony finger at his throbbing erection. “It aches, Claire. Look at what you did to me. All that washing and touching… You got me all worked up! Augh.”

Claire’s eyes widened, and she took a small step back. “Mr. Lampert… What do you want me to do about it? I’m not the one controlling your body,” she muttered back, unsure where he was going with all this.

“I need you to help me,” he said firmly. 

Her brow arched, utterly bemused at such an obscene request. “W-what? No. Absolutely not. I’m not doing that!” she snapped sternly as she braced her hands on her hips. His audacity got her completely off guard. 

Vick groaned again, his voice turning pitiful. “Please! Claire, it really hurts… You can’t just leave me like this. Look how hard it is… I’ve been lying here suffering while you were cleaning me. And this is what they pay you for, to take care of all my needs. I’m in real pain because of you… So be a kind soul and help this old man out. It’s been so long since I felt something like this. I need this ache to go away… Just your hand. That’s all I’m asking.”

Claire shook her head, her mind racing with anxiety. “Mr. Lampert, I could get into serious trouble for even doing something like this. I could lose my job. This is completely inappropriate.”

Vick kept his desperate, pleading expression, though he couldn’t help but smirk a little. “No one will ever know. It stays right here between us. I won’t tell a soul, I swear. Come on, Claire… you’re supposed to make me feel better. Look at me. I can’t go to bed like this. You caused this. Don’t you want to help me?”

Claire stood there, visibly torn. It was obvious that she should just reject him, but as she glanced down at his thick, leaking cock again, then back at his pleading face, the sympathetic part of her couldn’t help but feel bad. However, she should have known better than to fall into whatever game he was playing. 

“How is this on me? I’m just doing my job,” she shot back cautiously, her hazel eyes narrowing. He just responded with another pained groan, his hips lifting from the bed a bit as his cock leaked onto his lower belly. 

Her gaze flicked down, then back up to the old man’s wincing face. “Why can’t you just… take care of it yourself?” she asked quietly. 

Vick let out a weak, pitiful chuckle. “Augh… My wrist… the arthritis makes it hurt too much to properly grip it these days. I can barely do it anymore. That’s why I need you. Please… just this once. I’m begging you. I’ll do anything.”

He looked at her with those sad, needy eyes, his cock twitching as if to emphasize his point. 

Claire bit her lip hard, wrestling with herself for a long moment. This was wrong on so many levels. From an ethical standpoint, and given that she’s also a married woman, this should have been an easy rejection. However, as her eyes drifted back down to his endowment, her thighs began clenching together with unknowing arousal. 

“Fuck…” she whispered to herself as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Please, Claire. I’ll be quick. Just this once. I swear on my life. Just help me out this once,” Vick begged. “I’ll even put in a good word in for you. Tell them how wonderful you’ve been. How you go above and beyond. No one has to know the details. It’ll stay between us.”

That last part made her pause for a moment and think. A good word from Vick could make her life better. Considering he’s notoriously difficult, it would go a long way. Better hours, maybe even a good pay raise. She took a deep, shaky breath. 

This is all for the job… 

“Fine… Just this once,” she finally whispered, more to herself than to him. “To help you feel better. That’s all.”

Vick’s smirk returned, small but triumphant.

“Thank you… thank you, Claire,” he said gratefully. “Just use the baby oil I have there. It’ll make things better.”

Claire gave him a pointed look, her hazel eyes narrowing slightly. The audacity of his directing her like this, as if this was some normal part of her job, made her cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. 

She stared at his cock, her mind spinning at the absurdity of the situation. She had no idea how to even approach this. Her hand hovered uncertainly above him as she tried to figure out what to do. 

Vick noticed her hesitation and spoke up, his voice low and impatient. “Just pour some oil on it, sweetheart. Don’t overthink it.”

Claire swallowed hard, then picked up the bottle of oil. Settling beside him on the edge of the bed, she tilted it and poured a decent amount directly onto his cock. The clear liquid dripped down his thick shaft, coating the veiny length and heavy balls, making it glisten in the low lamplight. 

She set the bottle aside and stared for a second longer. I’m really about to do this… Thoughts about her husband were pushed to the back of her mind as she prepared to do something depraved for another man. But rationalizing that this was simply clinical helped ease her. 

Taking a deep breath, she finally reached out and tentatively wrapped her right hand around him. Her grip was stiff and awkward, her fingers tense as she began to stroke. 

Vick groaned, but then let out a small chuckle. “Easy there, Claire. You’re gripping me like you’re trying to choke the damn thing. Loosen up a bit.” She shot him a sharp leer before loosening her fingers around him. “Yeah… ohhhh… like that. Nice and smooth.”

Claire’s cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. She adjusted her grip a bit, letting her hand slide more naturally along his oil-slicked cock. The lewd, wet sound of her slick palm moving up and down his shaft filled the room as she began to stroke him properly. 

Vick moaned deeply, his hips twitching upward into her hand. “Fuck… that’s much better. Keep going… You’re good at this… Augh… ohhh… that feels so good.”

Claire bit her lip, her eyes fixed on his cock as her hand pumped him. The sight of her fingers wrapped around his veiny girth, the way the oil made everything shiny and obscene, caused her to press her loins tighter together. She was trying desperately to stay professional, but the heat between her legs was only growing. 

She kept her hand moving, stroking him with slow, steady pumps as she turned her head away, staring at the wall instead of looking at what she was doing. 

Vick groaned deeply from the pleasure. “Mmm… fuck, Claire… that feels so good,” he rasped, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Your hand is so soft… much better than mine, hehe.”

Claire’s face burned with shame. As she stroked him, her mind kept drifting to Daniel. What the hell am I doing? She thought, guilt twisting in her chest. I’m married. I love my husband. And here I am, jerking off this dirty old man. Her stomach churned, but she remained oddly focused on the lewd task at hand.

“Vick… stop talking,” she said, her voice strained. His first name just slipped as the line of professionalism blurred. “You’re making this weirder than it has to be. Just… be quiet until you… finish.”

Vick let out a raspy laugh, followed by another deep groan as her thumb brushed over his swollen, leaking tip. “Can’t help it, sweetheart,” he breathed, clearly amused. “You’ve got me so fucking worked up. Look what you do to me… ahh… just keep going… Please don’t stop.”

Claire’s eyes flicked back over to the naked old man beside her. She couldn’t help but watch in disbelief as her hand slid up and down his glistening length. It was still unreal how endowed this man was for his wiry stature. Her gaze returned to the wall. Every low groan from Vick and every heavy twitch of his cock in her slick hand made it impossible to pretend this was anything but clinical. Her own body began to betray her, too. 

She told herself it was just to help him. Just this once. Nothing more.

“Hurry up,” she whispered, her voice tight with embarrassment. “I need to get home soon.”

Vick groaned loudly, his hips bucking against her grip. “I’m almost there, sweetheart… just a little faster. Go a little faster for me. Augh… fuck… yes.”

Claire hesitated for a second, then obeyed. She tightened her grip slightly and stroked him faster. Her oily hand moved up and down his throbbing length with more urgency. The lewd squelching sounds grew louder and wetter. 

Vick’s breath turned ragged as his entire body began to tense. “Fuck… yes… just like that. Ohhhh. Fuck yes! OOUUHHHH!”

Suddenly, his hips arched from the bed. His heavy balls contracted visibly as he let out a deep, raspy moan. His cock pulsed hard in her hand and began to shoot thick, heavy ropes of cum. The first powerful spurt landed across his wrinkled stomach, followed by several more that splattered over his chest and coated her fingers and the back of her hand. 

Claire couldn’t help but watch. Her hazel eyes locked onto his cock as it throbbed and erupted, his balls tightening with every spurt. How could he be this virile? she thought in pure disbelief, shocked at the sheer amount and force of his load. Even her own husband didn’t produce this much. 

Vick shuddered through the last pulses, groaning with relief as the final weak spurts dribbled over her fingers. He let out a long, satisfied breath and sank back into the bed.

“Goddamn… that was good,” the old man uttered as a lazy smile spread across his face. “Haven’t felt something like that in ages. Thank you, Claire.”

Claire didn’t reply and just released his softening cock. She stared at the mess on her hand and his body for a moment, then quickly reached for the towel to clean herself up. Her mind swirled with a mix of guilt and simmering sensations she didn’t know how to describe. 

She wiped her hand clean, trying to remove every trace of his sticky cum from her skin. She then leaned forward and carefully wiped down his stomach and chest, cleaning up the thick mess he had made. Her movements were quick and silent. 

Once she was done, she picked up his pajama pants and helped him back into them, followed by his robe. As she tied the robe closed, she looked at him straight in the eyes, her voice firm and serious. 

“This stays between us, Mr. Lampert,” she stated sternly. “No one can ever know about this. Not a single soul. Do you understand?”

Vick nodded, though the smug little smirk on his face never faded. “Of course. Our little secret. Wouldn’t want to get my favorite caretaker in trouble, would I? Especially when she’s so good with her hands.”

Claire rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop the small, reluctant smirk that tugged at the corner of her lips. This old bastard really knew how to press her buttons. She shook her head and stood up, gathering the basin and towels.

She had no idea why she would smile after doing something way beyond what she’s paid to do. Maybe it was the absurdity of the situation; this short, balding, dirty old man lying there looking so pleased with himself after she had just jerked him off. Or maybe it was the ridiculous confidence he had, acting like he had won some kind of victory. But perhaps it was the odd charm to his crudeness that she was somewhat amused by.  

“You’re impossible,” she muttered under her breath as she headed for the door. 

Vick chuckled softly from the bed. “See you next week, Claire.”

She didn’t reply, but her little smirk lingered a bit for a moment longer as she left the room. However, the guilt came rushing back the moment she was alone. What the hell was she doing?

The drive home was silent as her mind kept replaying the memory of her jerking off Vick over and over again. By the time Claire got home, she was mentally and physically exhausted. She stepped through the front door, and she was greeted with the familiar smell of Daniel’s cooking, which brought her some level of calm. 

Daniel looked up from the stove with a warm smile. “Hey, honey, you’re home. How was work today? Did that old guy give you any problems?”

Claire forced a soft, tired smile as she set her bag down and walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around him from behind, her chin resting on his shoulder as she let out a long sigh. 

“It was… fine,” she replied calmly, keeping her voice steady. “Vick was his usual grumpy self, but nothing I couldn’t handle. You know how that goes.”

She hated how easily the lie came out. It made her stomach churn as she bit her tongue. There was no way in hell she was going to tell her husband, “Oh, by the way, I jerked off my client.” It was basically suicide. So, for now, lying was the only option she had left. Hopefully, that was the one and only time she’d have to do that. 

Daniel turned around and kissed her forehead, completely unaware of her taboo actions. “You're doing such a great job with him,” he said proudly. “I’m really impressed you’ve been able to put up with him this long. I’m sure it will all be worth it in the end.”

Claire nodded and smiled, but inside she felt a sharp pang of guilt. Here was her loving husband, praising her for “handling” Vick. “Yeah,” she muttered, kissing Daniel on the cheek. “It will all be worth it… Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

As they sat down for dinner and talked about their days, Claire played the part of the devoted wife on the outside. On the inside, the guilt kept twisting sharply in her chest with every smile Daniel gave her. 

She told herself again that it was a one-time thing. 

But she knew deep down that somehow, Vick would talk her into doing it again. 

Two days later, Claire stopped by the agency’s office before heading to Vick’s house. She needed to pick up some things and update her reports for the week. As she was signing out a new bottle of medicine, her supervisor spotted her and strode over with an unusually delighted smile. 

“Claire! Perfect timing,” the woman said cheerfully. “I just got a call from Mr. Lampert’s family. They said he’s been in a much better mood lately. Apparently, Vick himself has been singing your praises. He told them you’re the best caretaker he’s ever had and that he actually looks forward to your visits now.”

Claire blinked, caught off guard a little. She swallowed hard and nodded slowly. “Oh… is that so?” she managed, trying to sound a bit coy.

The supervisor nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! He’s never said anything like that about the previous caretakers. They were ready to quit after about a week with him. How did you turn him around so quickly? What’s your secret?”

Claire paused for a moment as her mind flashed to the night of her last shift with him. The memory of her hand wrapped around his thick, throbbing cock was still fresh. Her breath became shallow, and her cheeks warmed slightly. 

She forced a small, modest smile and shrugged nonchalantly.

“Oh… I’m just very patient with him,” she answered smoothly. “Listening to what he actually wants instead of forcing things. Once he realized I wasn’t going to be deterred by his crude behavior, he started to open up a bit more.”

Her supervisor looked surprised and made a mental note of that. “Well, whatever you’re doing, keep it up. The agency is really happy with your work on this one. And if you keep him cooperative, there’s a good chance you’ll be getting a very nice bonus.”

Claire thanked her and quickly excused herself. Her heart pounded as she left the office and paced to her car. 

As she drove towards Vick’s house, the guilt from what happened that night still sat heavily on her chest. She had just lied to her supervisor’s face about how she was “handling” the difficult client. On one hand, she was technically doing her job and making him happy. But on the other hand, the way she was doing it was completely unethical. 

Claire gripped the steering wheel and shook her head. This was only a one-time thing. It won’t happen again. She was sure of it. 

By the time she arrived at Vick’s place, she had managed to relax and clear her mind. She took a deep breath, smoothed her scrubs, and walked up the porch, composed and ready for the day.

Vick was in his usual spot in the recliner when she entered the house; his old eyes lit up the moment he spotted her. Despite his predictable, lecherous look, there was something different in his gaze today. It was a deeper, knowing glint that made her stomach tighten a little the longer she stared at him. 

“Morning, Claire,” he greeted with that familiar, teasing edge. “You look lovely as always.”

Claire nodded politely and began her usual routine, but the air between them felt thicker and more charged than before. The lingering tension from what had happened during her last shift with him refused to fade into the past. 

As the day went on, Vick’s comments were still crude, but there was a new layer of confidence behind them. He watched her more openly, and Claire found herself hyperaware of every greedy glance, every smirk, every time his hand “accidentally” brushed against her.

By the end of the afternoon, when it was time for his shower, Vick groaned and shuffled to his bedroom with Claire trailing closely behind. He eased himself onto his bed and let out an exaggerated groan as he grabbed at his lower back. 

“Ahh… damn it,” the old man hissed. “My back is killing me again. It’s too painful. I don’t think I can take a shower on my own tonight.”

Claire stood by the bed and crossed her arms. She gave him a dry, suspicious leer and let out a tired sigh. Of course.

“Mr. Lampert,” she began, her tone exasperated. “You were just fine earlier… Just let me help you to the bathroom. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

Vick shook his head, keeping up the pitiful act. “No… it hurts too much. I can barely move. Please, Claire… just bathe me here in bed again. It’s much more comfortable for me. Wouldn’t want me to be in any unnecessary pain, would you?”

“Mr. Lampert…” she muttered quietly.

Vick gave a small, innocent smile, or at least a poor attempt to. “Please?”

Claire pursed her lips; the familiar mix of reluctance and that unwelcome flutter in her stomach returned. She knew exactly where he was going with this. She wanted to refuse; she should have, but the words simply wouldn’t come. After a moment of silence, she let out a resigned sigh.  

“Fine.”

She turned toward the bathroom without saying anything more. When she returned, she had a basin of warm water, soap, and a clean towel in her hand. Vick watched her every movement hungrily as she set everything on the nightstand. She took a steadying breath, composing herself for what she was about to see once more before proceeding. 

Claire untied his faded gray bathrobe and slid it off his skinny shoulders. Then she reached for his pajama pants. Her fingers trembled slightly as she gripped the waistband and slowly pulled it down. Her breath hitched when she felt that resistance near his crotch. He stopped for a second, taking a moment to ready herself before making the final pull until his cock sprang free again, already half-hard and heavy against his thigh. 

Claire swallowed hard and moved quickly, trying to stay as efficient and professional as possible. She began washing his chest and arms, her eyes unintentionally flicking down to his cock more than she knew she should. As she worked lower, it slowly thickened and lengthened, growing harder right in front of her until it stood fully erect against his lower belly. 

Her stomach fluttered, pausing for a moment before resuming cleaning around his crotch. Carefully, she moved his manhood aside using two fingers, remaining as clinical as possible. The heat and throb of his cock caused her to press her thighs together and to feel an unknowingly growing wetness in her panties. Vick was all too aware of her reactions to him. He smirked deviously to himself, very pleased with how things were going so far. 

Once she finished washing his front, she helped him turn over so she could do his back. She worked in silence, trying to keep these forbidden feelings buried. When she was finally done, she helped him roll back over. To her surprise, things went smoother than expected. No suggestive comments, aside from the lecherous looks Vick was giving her. Just as she was about to start cleaning up and dressing him, Vick spoke up. 

“Claire… wait, before you go… could you… Help me again?” he asked, his voice low. “It aches… I need relief.”

Claire froze, the towel still in her hand. She had hoped this wouldn’t happen again. But the way he looked at her made it clear he wasn’t going to let this go.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. The guilt and frustration were already building again. What had happened during the last session was supposed to be a one-time mistake, something she could push behind her and never repeat. 

“Mr. Lampert,” that was a one-time thing,” she said firmly, her voice low and chiding. “I can’t be doing this again. It’s not right. I’m your caretaker, not… whatever this is.”

Vick groaned pitifully. His face twisted with discomfort as he pointed once more at his throbbing erection. “Please, Claire… I know what you said, but it really hurts. Look at me. I haven’t felt anything like this in years! You make me feel alive again. Like I’m actually a man instead of some useless old fart stuck in this house. You do that to me. Don’t you want to help me feel good one more time? I’ll be so grateful. I promise. I’ll do anything you ask. I can put in another good word for you. Just… please! I need this.”

Claire stood there, visibly torn. She tried to argue back, but the words came out in a shaky rush. “This is so wrong, Mr. Lampert. I’m married. I have a husband. I can’t be doing this to another man. And if anyone were to find out, I could lose everything. What I did last time, I did it out of pity for you. Don’t try to push your luck again.”

But Vick kept begging. He was soft and persuasive, his eyes locked on hers with a desperate, needy look. “No one will ever know. It stays right here between us. I swear on my life. You’re a good person, Claire. A good caretaker. You’ve helped me more than anyone in years. Just help me feel better one more time. I need you. Please… I’m begging you.”

Claire battled with herself. Her mind was a whirlwind of guilt, nervousness, and confusion, and there was a shameful heat building between her legs. She clicked her tongue, trying to remain calm. Every rational part of her screamed that she should walk out of the room right now. But the way he looked at her, the memory of his thick cock in her hand, and the strange thrill it had given her enticed her to stay. 

She stood there for what felt like forever, wrestling with her conscience. 

Finally, after a long, defeated sigh, she blushed and whispered, “Just this last time… That’s it. Never again after this. Got it?”

Vick’s face lit up with relief and triumph as he watched her reach into the nightstand drawer to retrieve the baby oil. Claire poured a generous amount into her palm before reaching down to wrap her hand around his thick cock. She wasted no time, stroking him slowly and steadily. 

The old man let out a deep, relieved groan the moment her soft, oily hand made contact. “Ahhh… fuck, Claire. Feels good. Augh… fuck, Claire. So soft… keep going, sweetheart.”

Claire gave him a warning glare, but she kept sliding her hand smoothly along his manhood. “Didn’t I tell you not to talk to me like that while I’m doing this for you?” she said, her voice low. 

Vick chuckled into another groan, his hips thrusting slightly up into her hand. “Hehe, can’t help it. What do you expect? It’s not easy to behave when you’re having a fine woman like you relieving me.”

She rolled her hazel eyes and turned her gaze toward the wall, trying to distance herself from what she was doing. But despite that, she couldn’t help but feel a small flutter of thrill in her chest. Her hand kept moving up and down his veiny length with smooth, slippery strokes, the filthy wet sounds filling the room. 

Vick groaned louder with pleasure, his toes curling and his hands grabbing at the sheets. “Mmm… just like that. You’re so good at this.”

Claire found herself biting her lip a bit, her fingers tightening around his shaft. She could feel him throbbing in her grip, the heat of his cock radiating through the oil. That same guilty feeling washed over her again as she continued to stroke him. What am I doing? she thought. Why did I let him talk me into doing this again? Dammit… The thought of her husband while she jerked another man off made her stomach twist, but she pushed it down, telling herself this was simply helping Vick feel better. It was a part of her job as a caretaker. Well, not really. She was just doing this for him, not for herself. 

Claire’s face burned with shame. As she stroked him, her mind kept racing, contemplating everything she was doing. But even as she rationalized it, she could feel a subtle warmth building between her legs. She shifted slightly on the edge of the bed where she sat, trying to ignore the growing dampness in her panties. 

“Are you close yet?” she whispered, her voice tight with embarrassment. 

Vick groaned loudly, his hips bucking against her grip. “Ah… yeah yeah… I’m getting there… Just a little more.”

The minutes felt like they went on for ages as she jerked Vick off. He kept groaning and arching every so often from the pleasure. She tried to move a little faster to get him to finish, but nothing. As this continued to drag on, the guilt sitting on her chest felt even heavier, as well as the warmth growing between her legs.

“Vick,” Claire said, the professionalism slipping once more. “Hurry up. I need to get home.”

Vick moaned louder. “Ouuuhh… don’t rush me, woman. It will come when it comes.”

After a few more pumps, she let out a heavy sigh through her nose. She then reluctantly began to add slight twisting motions to her strokes, hoping this would make him finish. Her slick hand rotated gently on the upward pull, squeezing a little around his sensitive head before sliding back down to his base. The lewd, wet squelching sound grew even more obscene with the added movement. 

Vick's head fell back onto the pillow as he let out a pleased, decrepit groan, his hips lifting slightly off the bed. “Fuck… yes… Ouuhhh… yes… so good. There you go. Stroke me just like that, you naughty girl. You’re so good with your hands, Claire. Mhmmmm.”

Claire didn’t bother responding; she just kept going, her hand moving faster now with the twisting strokes. The method she was using was teetering awfully close to something more lewd than clinical. But she told herself that this was the only way to end this quickly. Nothing more. 

Vick’s breath turned ragged as his wiry body began to tense. “Yes… yes… yes… ouuhh… Ohhhhh. Fuck yes! OOOUUHHHHH!”

Suddenly, his hips arched from the bed. His heavy balls contracted visibly as he let out a deep, raspy moan. His cock pulsed hard in her hand and began to shoot thick, heavy ropes of cum. The first powerful spurt landed across his wrinkled stomach, followed by several more that splattered over his chest and coated her fingers and the back of her hand. 

Claire couldn’t help but watch from the corner of her eye. Her gaze locked onto his cock as it throbbed and erupted. Each time his balls tightened with every spurt, she felt that strange heat between her legs grow. She still couldn’t believe how virile this old bastard was. Strangely, she found herself making a few final strokes, as if trying to get the last dropsdrop out of him as he finished. 

Vick shuddered through the last pulse, groaning with relief as the final weak spurts dribbled over her fingers. He let out a long, satisfied breath and sank back into the bed. 

“Augh… Goddamn… that was even better than last time,” he uttered with a lazy smile spread across his face. “Thank you, Claire. You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”

Claire grabbed the towel and removed every trace of his cum from her skin. She then leaned over and carefully wiped down his stomach and chest, cleaning up the sticky mess he had made. Her movements were quick and silent as she tried to rush to put this all behind her again.

Vick watched her with a lazy, satisfied grin. “You know, Claire, you look damn good cleaning me up. It makes me want you to help me again soon. Hehe.”

She shot him a sharp look as she finished wiping her hand. “Don’t start with that again,” she warned. “This was supposed to be the last time. I mean it.”

Vick just chuckled, still lying back on the bed with a smug expression. As Claire stood up to gather the basin and towels, he noticed her subtly adjust the crotch of her scrub pants, trying to ease the discomfort from how wet she had gotten.

His smirk grew wider and knowing. But he said nothing and continued to stare at her perfect ass as she walked around the room. The old man deviously licked his lips. He was surprised at how far he’d gotten with her, and he was eager to see just how much further he could get. 

“Hmmm… I’m going to be inside that tight pussy eventually,” Vick murmured to himself, his voice barely above a whisper.

Claire blinked and glanced at him, swearing she heard him say something. “Did you say something?” she asked, her cheeks still flushed from lingering arousal. 

He shook his head and smiled. “Said nothing, sweetheart. Hurry up and clean up so you can get out of here. I’ve already kept you longer than you planned to be here.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she didn’t reply. She finished cleaning up and dressing Vick. As she headed toward the front door, she repeated to herself in her mind, This is the last time… it has to be.

To be continued…