I’m Renee Dion, registered nurse. I’ve always loved that. It sounds so important.
I’ve been working for years—forever it seems. I long since gave up on my hospital job in favor of fee-for-service work, where I can call my own spots and make my own hours. I do okay—financially, that is—and my husband Ricky makes a good salary as a factory foreman.
So, you would think at age forty I could step back from working extra shifts and making as much money as I can while I can, but I still do a special gig on the weekends.
Yes, it pays ridiculously well, $100 an hour for eight hours, taking care of a private patient. No insurance or billing—strictly self-pay. While the money is great—an extra $40 grand a year—I like my patient and I like the job.
Claudia Geneva is an eighty-year-old woman, born in Greece and the widow of a restaurant entrepreneur that left her a multi-million dollar nest egg.
She has a home health aid and housekeepers that work for her during the week, but I provide her with my special brand of T.L.C. every Saturday night. I can go out to dinner or a show with Ricky any night of the week. Claudia needs me from four o’clock till midnight on Saturdays and Ricky will be perfectly happy to rent a movie at home alone.
I arrive at her old-fashioned ornate front door. “Claudia, I’m here.” I don’t knock or ring a bell. I have my own set of keys.
“Renee, sweetheart,” she called from afar. “I’m in the livin’ room.”
“Claudia,” I scold. “Now I have to wheel you in the chair to the bedroom to change you.”
“Bah! You know I hate that wheelchair. I can use the walker,” she spoke with an oof as she propped herself on the arm of the couch to stand up.
“Oh, sure, I’ll be here all night watchin’ you walk an inch at a time with the walker.” I take her by the arm and kiss her hello.
“Don’t get fresh,” she teases and returns the kiss, wetting my cheek with her full lips.
I wheel the chair from the corner to where she stood hunched over and waiting and she dropped her ample arse onto the seat.
“How you been, sweetheart?” she asks with formality as I push her down the hall to her bedroom. I said I was well. “And your husband and the children?” I assured her they were fine. I could already smell the odor from her adult-sized diaper, which must not have been changed since yesterday.
In her room, I spread out a plastic pad over her bed sheets before lifting her onto the bed. She was short and weighed over two hundred pounds. I saw from all the pictures on her walls that Claudia Geneva was a trim and cute young girl, a sexy and attractive young bride, and a lovely mature wife and mother in bygone years.
“Are you going to see your children for the holidays?” I asked Claudia, as I unbuttoned her housecoat frock and slid it off her shoulder.
“You know Greek Christmas falls later in the calendar than your Christmas,” she informed me, as she has done for all eight years that I have been caring for her. “But they don’t come to my house no more. They come get me and sit me in a corner and ignore me until it’s time for my sons to argue ’bout who’s gotta bring me back home.” She wasn’t really angry or resentful; it was her regular lament about her family. I just smiled and helped her take off her blouse, skirt, brassiere, and wide-cut underpants. Her elongated, tubular breasts flopped over several rolls of belly fat, and her thighs fluttered like waves on a body of water. Her white cotton diaper was thoroughly soaked. She affectionately stroked beşevler escort my forearms as I worked at the safety pins on either side of her nappy. Her crotch was reddened and her gray pubic hair was matted against her irritated skin. Before rolling Claudia on her side, I cleansed her vagina, groin, and inner thighs with a handy wipe. She smiled at me sweetly. Then she said she was sorry for the big mess on her back side.
“Oh, Claudia!” I shouted, more surprised than angry at the caked on layers of feces covering her buttocks. “Didn’t the aide change your diaper at all yesterday?”
“She didn’t show up,” Claudia said sheepishly.
“You should call the agency, Claudia,” I told her as I tried to clean the shit off her ass.
“I don’t wanna make trouble for her. She would get fired and she’s got a new baby to take care of.”
“She needs to take care of you, Claudia.” I gave up on the wipes and decided, “This is too much of a mess. You need to get in the tub.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry ’bout this.” Claudia moved comparatively easily from the bed to the bathroom, shitty butt notwithstanding. “I don’t wanna waste my time with you takin’ a bath.”
I put my arm around her and leaned over to kiss her on the forehead. “I’m gonna be givin’ you the bath, hon.” She kissed me on the cheek. “We have all night together.” Then Claudia kissed me again, this time on the lips. I lowered the toilet seat cover and helped her sit down while I ran hot water into the bathtub. A few minutes later, I quickly washed off her nether regions with a terrycloth and let her soak in the sensuously warm water. She seemed like she was floating with her eyes closed and I think she touched her clitoris with her fingertips when she thought I wasn’t looking. I brought the event to a close by washing her arms, shoulders, back, neck, underarms, and belly as her pendulous tits bobbed in the water like half deflated balloons. Using the shower head, I wetted her thinning, graying cotton candy textured hair, doused it with shampoo, rinsed it, conditioned it, and rinsed it again. She cooed and sighed, eyes still shut tight, and seemed to be having an orgasm in response to me washing her hair.
Claudia stepped out of the tub and I wrapped her in a big bulky towel. She giggled in a delightfully childish way and she peppered me with little kisses as I patted her old leathery skin dry. She felt strong enough to walk back to her room by herself and laid down on the bed, on top of the sheets, in the nude. She smiled serenely as she watched me, as she always did. Without fanfare, I slowly undressed for her—taking off my blue scrubs, shirt followed by pants, then removing my tee shirt underneath, usually standing under her gaze in my bra and panties before taking them off. I let her look at my still firm breasts and my proudly pouting areolas and nipples. She winked at my unwaxed hairy nest before I turned away, showed her my not-so-skinny little ass, bent down and reached into my medical bag. Next I turned around and hooked the belt of the black plastic strap-on. Claudia gave a little hoot and clapped her hands and I walked slowly toward her, the dildo pointing the way. She opened her arms and I joined her on the bed where we shared a deep, open mouthed, tongue sucking kiss.
Claudia’s husband, Constantine Geneva, was a big, lusty man, who was apparently well endowed and head-over-heels in love with his wife. The couple worked six days a week, birthed and raised six sons and daughters, cebeci escort and set aside one evening a week for each other. According to Claudia Geneva, her man could pump her cunt with his fat cock for hours on end, rarely pausing between erection and ejaculation. When Claudia was a young virginal maiden, her sex life was purely torture, but as she grew accustomed to Constantine’s voracious appetite, she found it hard to believe other women lived with five-minute wonders and sometimes even failed to orgasm. When Constantine died, it left a void in Claudia’s life. So she hired me to fill it.
When I first started to service her with the dildo, it was strictly to fuck her with little attention to foreplay and no attention whatsoever to my needs. We kissed—I always had to embrace her like I was the man—but that was all there was to it. One night, after about a year of providing Claudia’s sex therapy, my legs grew tired after humping her for five or six hours without let up.
“I think I pulled a muscle,” I said, ready to cry from the sharp pain.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Claudia whispered affectionately as I rolled off her great bulk. “Come lie down beside me.” I did and she began to rub my stomach, my breasts, and my thighs. I closed my eyes and Claudia touched my mound of Venus before putting a finger inside of me. She kissed my lips and dithered my pussy till I came. We have truly been lovers ever since.
Tonight I approached my elderly lady love with a slow strut, letting the dildo bounce like a donkey dong, trying not to swing my hips in too much of a girly way. Claudia seemed to grow younger right away, sitting up and offering her outstretched arms to me as I planted my knees on the edge of the bed. Claudia took hold of the magic wand, stroked it admiringly, as I imagine she did for all those years with Constantine, and slowly brought it to her lips. I wished I could feel her warm, moist mouth and fluffy tongue. Nonetheless, my own smegma was getting soupy between my legs. I gently petted the back of her neck and watched Claudia vigorously lick and suck on the candy cane, holding onto my forelegs like support columns. When she popped the phallus out of her mouth, she gave my left ass cheek a hard, twisting pinch, letting me know she was ready to roll.
“Time to bone the old lady, sweetheart.” That was her usual invitation to start fucking.
“You know I like to lick it before I stick it,” which was my usual opening line and she always laughed delightfully shyly in response.
I covered her barely withered labia and clitoris with my tongue, deliberately drooling and spitting on her sex to make up for her dryness due to aging. I treat her to a sweep of my tongue over her thighs and pubic mound before inserting my finger to probe her fruit, which was already constricting like an adolescent’s nubile folds. Despite bathing her, I nonetheless tasted her pee and pooh while giving her cunnilingus.
Claudia spryly lifted and spread her legs, her excess flab jiggling about, as I mounted her and inserted the ten-inch probe into her octogenarian Venus. I wiggled my ass to start my rhythm the way she liked, just as the old man used to do, until I hooked my arms under her legs and hoisted her vortex higher to receive my hard and fast jackhammer. I fucked the old bird nonstop for an hour and she hummed, moaned, groaned, and sighed the whole time. To mix things up, I leaned forward and scooped up her boobies, which flopped over her arms like loose kolej escort saddlebags. I sucked on her thumb-sized nipples and made her shriek when I pretended to bite them. She loves when I do that. After the second hour, I adjusted our conjoining to let Claudia suckle my breasts—looking like a newborn babe, always taking my tit with eyes closed—the entire time continuing to flog her flabby pussy.
My legs grew tired and sore, my calves ached as well as my thigh muscles. The leather strap began to chafe my sensitive skin around my little mons. I begged for a break in the action.
It was ten o’clock. I sprawled diagonally across Claudia’s big bed while she waited on me for a change, shuffling to her liquor cabinet and bringing us two very full glasses of red wine. I sat up to take one of the glasses and Claudia blurted out, “You’re so beautiful. I love you, sweetheart.”
I reacted to the beautiful part. “I’m a frumpy middle-aged soccer mom, Claudia. I’m no beauty and I’ve put on a few pounds since I got married.”
“You’re beautiful to me, anyway.” She sipped her wine, and then asked a curious question. “Are we lesbians … like the girls on TV who make love to each other?”
I laughed at the reference to “girls on TV,” as if there were no gay people in the real world. “No, not really, because I’m just filling in for Constantine.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Claudia said, getting up and putting her glass without a trace of infirmity as she walked back to the bed. “You screw me like a man, but you have needs, too. Don’t you?”
I didn’t know what she meant until she embraced and kissed me and after a long, affectionate snogging, rubbed my areolas till my nipples were so hard I thought they would pop. Then my matronly lover lowered her head to my frothy pubis and tasted the nectar of the goddess. I dreamed I was Athena making love to Aphrodite through the longest string of multiple orgasms I every experienced in my life. Claudia even sucked on my clitty like it was a little dick.
I was covered in sweat when Claudia finished, told me again how she loved me, and staggered to the bathroom just in time to pee in the toilet and not all over the bed. When she returned, I had the strap-on cleaned and ready to drill her for another hour. At midnight, I helped her put on a diaper and a nightie, kissed her goodnight, and went home to my snoring husband, who had spent the evening with a six pack and the Victoria’s secret catalogue. I laughed and kissed his sticky fingers.
Going back a few years to when I first started caring for Claudia, I worried one of her sons, daughters, or grandchildren would come by and find us cavorting. Next thing I knew I would be fired or worse, brought up on some sort of morals charges. I soon realized that wouldn’t be a problem. They never came by.
The phone rang on Thursday and it was Claudia’s eldest son, Gus. I knew what he was going to say as soon I picked up the phone. Claudia had passed. I cried uncontrollably for the next two days. I think Ricky was ready to check me into the psych ward. He understood Claudia was special, though I think he was concerned about the loss of income.
After Claudia’s funeral, Gus Geneva came over to me and said, “You were very important to my mom. I want to thank you for being more than a caregiver to her, a real friend.” I nodded, but didn’t speak. “You’re in her will.” I was stunned. “Probate takes about six months, but my mom wanted your share to be a gift, tax free.” He handed me a check. All I could see were zeroes. It was for a million dollars. I gasped, cried, and wet my panties. I stood there crying, holding the check in my shaking hands, with urine streaming down my legs. Embarrassed, Gus just walked away.
I ran back to the gravesite, put my hands on Claudia Geneva’s casket, and whispered, “I love you, too, sweetheart.”
THE END