Helping the Elderly Ch. 01

Special thanks to his Hislittleho for editing.

*

"We have literally dozens of senior citizens that need some sort of assistance or another. We can use whatever help you can give us." Mrs. Collins needed volunteers desperately. The senior center was relying too heavily on the few volunteers they had already.

Tracy was looking for something to do that would give her life more purpose. At forty-two years old, her two children were away at college and her husband wanted her to keep her schedule open so he would rather she didn't find a job. No matter where she decided to spend her time, however, Tracy got attention. At 5'4 130 pounds, blonde with a narrow waist, round ass and big, full 36DD breasts with pinkish-red nipples, she looked like she might have been a model or even an adult film star. She looked much younger than she really was. Lots of exercise and staying out of the sun helped keep her very young looking. Tracy was pretty naïve in general, and had little experience sexually outside of her husband and a couple of boyfriends. She dressed rather conservatively, although it didn't matter too much what she wore as her hot body could simply not be hidden very well.

"Well, I suppose I could give you an hour or two, let's say three times per week? What do you need me to do?" Tracy started to feel good about volunteering, that she was doing some good in the world.

"I think I will have you visit Mr. Goodson. He is a widower and a lock-in and doesn't get out much, if at all. He has almost no family and he would be a good place to start volunteering." Mrs. Collins gave Tracy the case file for her to start with. Harry Goodson was a seventy-eight year old ex-construction foreman and was depressed after having lost his wife of fifty years last year. He was black and requested a volunteer to help him with some minor health problems, keep him company, and possibly help him with some minor chores.

Tracy was excited. "Mr. Goodson, huh? I can't wait!"

She was to visit Mr. Goodson on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The Center recommended that she spend ninety minutes to two hours with him as these times were about the minimum that a visit would be most effective. They suggested bringing over some cards and other board games, but that the time should be interactive and not taken up with too much TV, napping, or on the computer.

"Now, don't let him waste your time. You are going out of your way to be a companion to him so be sure to keep him engaged. If you do decide to watch TV, be sure it is not a regular activity and that you do it together. Try to remember that he is older and from a different generation. You may want to dress much like you are now. Tracy was wearing a blue knee-length skirt and a patterned blouse with four-inch navy blue heels.

Tracy's first visit began the following day, Tuesday. When she got home, she laid out a black skirt with a white, sleeveless blouse and black heels. Her husband, Jim, did not approve of the volunteer work, but thought it best to let her have this time to feel good about something. Now that the kids were gone she had little to do around the house.

The next morning, Tracy took a shower, dressed, had breakfast and set her GPS to Mr. Goodson's address.

The directions took her to an older part of her town, not a bad neighborhood, but not one she would choose to live in either.

"454 Acacia Street, Number 3." Tracy had found the duplex that Mr. Goodson lived in and approached the door straightening her skirt and fixing her hair that she wore in a bun for this occasion.

She rang the bell and listened intently for signs of life from the other side. She thought she heard a woman's voice moan or singing, but it was hard to tell.

The door opened swiftly and there stood a 6-foot tall bald, black man with a dark, charcoal complexion, and round beer belly. He was wrinkled and very old looking and was wearing basketball shorts and a guinea T-shirt.

"Hello there Darlin,' you from the Senior Citizens Center?" He scratched his groin and adjusted himself causing Tracy to look aside for a moment.

"Yes, I am! My name is Tracy Moore. How do you do?" Tracy extended her hand and was relieved to have finally met her first volunteer "case." She was also happy to see that he seemed nice and was not bed-ridden.

She walked in and found a clean and well-organized condo. The furnishings were old, as were the appliances and pictures on the wall; it smelled a little old and stuffy in there. She was surprised to see what looked to be a 60" flat screen TV in the living room area and a desktop computer on a table pushed up against the wall on the opposite side.

She looked around some more, then turned to him and asked,

"Do you have anything you would like to do for our first visit?" Tracy had her hands folded together at her waist and this pushed her already huge breasts out even more.

Harry Goodson thought to himself "Damn. Look at this fine specimen that is in my house. I could cum in my pants she's so hot...and innocent acting too! Just like I like."

He was thrilled this hot, white, big-breasted blonde bitch had been assigned to him. He planned to take advantage of this woman to the fullest. He had some Viagra he was saving for an occasion just like this, but he also knew he needed to take it slow if was to get what he wanted from her.

"Well, young lady. I haven't been feeling too well lately" Harry was lying. He wanted to see how far he could take her today, on her first visit. Normally, the Center sent volunteers that resembled retired nurses. This hot piece of ass really changed the nature of the game. He sighed and continued.

"I have an issue with my circulation in my legs and I was just about to take a bath. Would you mind helping fill the tub and make sure I don't slip? Maybe you can read to me or tell me something about yourself while I soak." Mr. Goodson looked at Tracy's reaction carefully- seeing how she would handle this request that actually required that he get naked during her visit.

"That sounds like a great idea!" She replied enthusiastically.

Her attitude about this volunteer work was more clinical than social. Tracy saw herself almost like a hospice worker or geriatric nurse caring for this decrepit old man; helping him ease comfortably into the final phase of his life. She saw no innuendo or inappropriateness in Mr. Goodson's request. In fact, she was delighted she could actually do something besides play cards or make him lunch.

Tracy proceeded to the bathroom and started the water. She looked under the sink and found an old box of bath bubbles that must have belonged to his deceased wife. She added some to the water and walked back out into the living room where Mr. Goodson was sitting on the couch watching every move she made. He had just taken a Viagra, although he felt his cock begin to get hard even without it.

"The tub is almost full, Mr. Goodson. Why don't you undress in the bathroom and let me know when it is okay to come in?"

Harry was thinking how to play this. The needier, older, and more incapable he came across, the easier it would be to request more hands-on assistance. The gamble was that she might find that unappealing or inappropriate. His ultimate goal was to make this sexy white woman into a fuck buddy, or better yet, a slave to his black cock, but he couldn't do that if he presented himself as someone who needed no assistance at all. She didn't seem like the type to cheat, and she was treating him more like a child than a virile older man.

He knew how to play this.

"Okay, young lady. I may need you to help me get in so I don't slip and break a hip or something like that." He watched her reaction again. This time she looked away and seemed to think about it.

"Hmm. How can we get him into the tub without him being totally exposed and embarrassed by me being there? Well, I will just have to look away." Tracy thought as she kept her eyes on the soap dish.

"I will just have to turn my head to give you privacy." She responded.

With that, Mr. Goodson got up and shuffled slowly into the bathroom. He was about halfway to an erection. He knew that even at half-mast, his dick was a sight to behold. His buddies used to call him "Three-leg" because his cock hung down between his legs about ten inches...he was a little over a foot when completely hard. All this white girl had to do was get a glimpse at the monster underwater, or even as he lowered into the tub and he would be dick-deep in the pussy soon enough.

Tracy was outside the bathroom with a towel. Harry had walked into the bathroom expecting to see a bathtub full of warm, clear water. His plan was to be clearly visible to her while he sat in the tub. This obviously wasn't going to happen when the tub was filled with bubbles.

He walked in and dropped his shorts, scooted out of his underwear and yelled for help.

"Tracy, darling,' I need some help gettin' in." He smiled to himself for sounding so weak and pathetic.

"I'm right here, Mr. Goodson." Tracy wrapped the towel around him and took his hand while she guided him from behind. He took one step into the warm water, then his other leg went in. Tracy had her head turned away the whole time and saw nothing of his huge penis.

"Are you safely in?" She asked.

"Yes." Harry sat down, his plan foiled. He had to think quickly.

"Why don't you pull up that footstool in the living room and sit by the bath so you can help with my circulation." Harry was into his Plan B.

Tracy found the small, padded stool and moved it next to the bath.

"How can I help you with your problem?" She asked wearing a sad expression on her face as though Harry was ill or suffering.

I need you to rub my legs and try to work some blood into them. Don't be shy, and don't worry about hurting me either. This is a serious condition." Harry tried his best to sound concerned about the whole situation.

Tracy eagerly reached into the tub and felt through the warm, sudsy water for his right leg. She sat above the bath facing him on the stool so she could easily access both legs. Under the bubbles Harry was slowly stroking his massive cock. He was nearly at full power.

He intentionally and quickly moved the arm nearest Tracy carelessly as he reached for his leg and soaked her blouse with bathwater. He smiled to himself as she responded.

"Oh my gosh!" Tracy got up immediately and backed away from the tub. Harry had to keep from grinning as she looked down at her wet shirt. Harry could see the shape of her breasts and the style of bra she was wearing as the water made the shirt nearly transparent.

"I am so sorry, Darlin! Don't you worry about it none. I have a washer and dryer in the closet in the hall just off the kitchen. Just pop it in the dryer for a few minutes. Don't mind me, it won't bother me that you're in your bra." Harry offered his devilish solution.

"Are you sure it's okay?" Tracy asked.

"Oh, now. An old man like me? Honey, I have seen it all. Don't you worry about a thing. Go get your shirt dry!"

Tracy didn't feel a sexual vibe coming from Harry at all. In fact, she saw him as a sweet, old, helpless gentleman. She felt very comfortable around him.

She found the dryer and put her blouse in it. Then returned to the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her chest.

Harry's disappointment returned as he saw Tracy come back into the bathroom with a towel covering her massive rack. "Damn bitch! Take it off already!" He thought to himself. Luckily for Harry, she let it fall to the side as she sat back down and reached for his leg again.

Tracy had to bend down to get at Harry's leg so the towel had to go. She thought nothing of it actually. She was so preoccupied with helping this poor old man with his condition that she just began doing what needed to be done. He was too old for her to make a sexual connection with, or so she thought at the time.

Mr. Goodson finally caught a break. Sitting within arm's reach of him was the most beautiful, buxom, hottest woman he had ever seen. Her full, round snow-white tits were bursting out of the low-cut bra she wore. Nearly half of her breasts were exposed and in full view of the dirty-minded old black man. Her tits jiggled back and forth as she began to rub her hands into the flesh of his leg. The head of his cock was starting to surface from the depth of the tub like a giant periscope on a submarine, although she could not see it through the bubbles, he felt like it was in plain view.

Tracy was determined to bring Mr. Goodson relief. She began with his ugly, crooked toes on his right foot. She twisted and pulled on each one. Then kneaded and pressed his heel, then calf, and up to his hamstring and quadriceps. She was getting a little tired and felt a trickle of sweat drip down the side of her cheek.

"How does that feel?" She asked innocently.

Harry was stroking his cock in the bubbles as he watched her tits bounce with each movement.

"Oh, that's helping a lot. How about the other one now?"

"Okay!" Tracy readjusted herself and found that she had to reach a bit farther to get to his left leg because it was on the other side of the tub. While she did this, she felt something stiff and smooth rub against her arm. She had no idea what it could be, so she just thought it was his hand.

Harry's gigantic, rock-hard cock was sliding and bumping into Tracy's arm and part of her breast as she leaned over the tub and worked his other leg. He was holding the black club at its base and was purposely and obscenely tapping her with it. He couldn't believe the situation he was in. He felt like shooting cum all over her. She couldn't see what it was that was rubbing into her, but soon she had massaged her way up to the thigh of his left leg and was pulling back to end the massage when she noticed the thing that had been touching her moving around in the bubbles. For some reason, she reached out and grabbed it.

"What is...? Oh my God! Mr. Goodson! Is that what I think it is!?"

She let go of the enormous cock as if it were red-hot, pulled her arm and chest away from the water and looked in shock at the old, leather-faced black man.

"I am so sorry, Tracy. I can't help it. My circulation problem has to do with my lower extremities...all of my extremities. Both my legs, my penis, and my testicles are all affected by my condition. The doctors are afraid I will get a blood clot and have a stroke or worse if I don't receive regular massages. I'm just an old man. Who can I ask to help me with my circulation? I have no family and the nurses stopped coming to treat me a long time ago."

Harry had no such condition, but he was on a roll, and he knew this woman wouldn't give him the time of day sexually without some specific reason. This was a performance of a lifetime. As his tall tale continued, he noticed that Tracy seemed to be sympathetic. She was buying it!

"Oh, poor Mr. Goodson! That sounds horrible! You poor, poor man."

Tracy was standing now as he continued to lay in the tub. She looked at the center of the water where his erection was becoming visible through the soap. She felt uncomfortable at the thought of touching another man's penis. Even for a poor, old, feeble black man, it was still a penis and it wasn't her husband's...no, it certainly wasn't her husbands. This looked giant. Her thoughts strayed to what might happen if she didn't help him. "He could die!" She thought. She then thought about how she would go about helping him. "Maybe if I ask my husband...to get permission. No, that wouldn't work. He wouldn't be able to actually see how pitiful Mr. Goodson is. He wouldn't understand."

Clearly this was a medical condition and nothing more. Tracy continued to rationalize. "I don't even like black men. I have never been attracted to one. This won't be anything but a medical treatment."

Tracy sat back down on her stool and continued to think. Part of her was intrigued in a way that strayed from the "medical condition" reasoning.

"Okay, Mr. Goodson. Let me see what I can do. Please explain how I can help improve the circulation in all of your extremities." Tracy sat with her arms resting on the tub wearing a concerned look on her face.

She seemed agreeable. Harry nearly blew his load right then. He couldn't believe he had lucked into this situation. Now he needed to make sure he didn't scare her off.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, young lady! You may have saved my life!"

Tracy gave a sad smile. Feeling true pity for the man.

"Well, Tracy, I will need my penis to be rubbed starting at the bottom and working up to the top. Use both your hands. My testicles should be massaged gently as you work on the penis too. This is how the doctor told me it should be done. The doctor said that the best practice is for me to actually ejaculate, but I don't think that will be possible. I am no longer a sexual man and although my penis may react to being massaged, it's unlikely that I will ejaculate."

This last lie would hopefully put her at ease a bit. In fact, Harry's lies were working like a charm on the sheltered, gullible housewife.

"Well, we will see what we can do." Tracy looked at the situation with new purpose. Massage, improve circulation, and try to get his penis to ejaculate to help with the circulation. She never realized how serious helping senior citizens could be. This old man needed her to help his medical condition. "Thank God I signed up to help!" She thought.

Tracy was a little worried about the ejaculation part. She did not consider herself very good at sex. Her husband always ejaculated pretty quickly, so she never really had to work at them. Maybe she could just treat it like a fast massage and that would work.

Tracy decided to go ahead and try. She reached through the shrinking bath suds and easily found the monster lurking beneath the water. "I'm about to touch another man's penis." Was all she could think about.

"My God! This can't be right. He is enormous. I can't see what it looks like, but I can tell he is almost as long as my entire forearm. I can barely get my hands around it! I have never heard of anything so big! This is a weird, gross THING, not a penis."

Tracy had a surprised look on her face. Her eyes became wide as she looked over at Mr. Goodson.

"Um, Mr. Goodson? Is the size of your, you know, part of the medical issue too, or is that normal for you?" Tracy's voice shook a little from her surprise as she wrapped both hands around the dark, black snake.

"Well, I have always been a big man, so I guess not, no. This is just me."

He was attempting to keep himself from being overtly sexual, so she wouldn't become suspicious. He found this impossible to do when Tracy's large breasts were hanging over the bathtub barely staying in her bra. He added:

"I'm sure your husband is a big man down there too, isn't he?" Harry asked trying to keep a straight face.

"Oh, well, no, not exactly." Tracy thought about how small her husband's penis actually was and how little she got to see of it over the past several years. The thought that she was now touching another man's penis, a black man's penis even, suddenly registered with her. "I haven't touched another man's penis in over 20 years! This is strange, but I must do a good job nonetheless. Focus, Tracy! Mr. Goodson needs you!" She squeezed his thick, pulsing penis with both her hands, but still could not see its entirety. She tugged on it, pulled it, yanked on it, but really had no idea how to go about giving the poor man relief. It felt powerful in her hands and she was a bit intimidated by it.

Seeing that she clearly did not know how to jack off a dick, Harry was happy to give her direction.

"Grab the base, the bottom of the penis, Tracy, with one hand on top of the other and stroke the whole length. Up and down, over and over."