My Helper

by

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Romantic, .

Desc: Sex Story: Tracy’s mother sends her to help an injured man with his chores...and spends more time lifting his morale.

"Mum sent me to see if you needed any help and she gave me a dinner to heat up for you."

Depressed and annoyed at having to move from my chair, I'd hobbled painfully to the door when the bell rang and struggled to open it, half expecting, half hoping the visitor would be gone by the time I got there, and stared with some surprise at the girl, well young woman, who greeted me. "Who are you?" I asked.

"Tracy Kerringham, most people call me Trace. Aren't you going to let me in so I can heat this up?"

I shuffled to one side and awkwardly closed the door. "Should I know you or your mother?"

"Probably not, we live next door to Kathleen Durrant who works in Maxim Engineering's office and she told us about your difficulties after the accident and Mum said you might need some help and said that I wasn't doing anything this afternoon so I should get my arse over here and offer to do a few chores and cook you a meal."

"Thank you and her, but I can manage."

"From the way you're hobbling along, it looks like you find it difficult."

"A bit. I'm Michael Boothe, Mike."

"Yeah, I know. We read about the accident in the paper, or their version of it. Is that blue thing a straightjacket they've put on you so you're not a threat to girls like me?"

I smiled, "No, it's a spica cast. Both my clavicles, my shoulder blades, and some of my ribs were broken in a number of places and they had to put pins and bolts in to hold the pieces together and then they put this plastic cast around my body and upper arms so they wouldn't move while the fractures set."

"That sure makes it difficult for you to do things, no wonder Mum sent me over but why don't you hire a maid?"

"A supervisor at Maxim's doesn't get paid all that much more than other workers on the site. Did you expect me to hire you?"

"Well I haven't been able to get a job and the chances of my getting one are pretty slim, but Mum said not to accept any money."

"And she pushed you to doing this even if you are not keen?"

"Yeah, but I thought you'd be an old fart but you ain't that old really are you?"

"Hell no, I'm not even thirty yet but the back pain makes me walk like an old man. What about you? Left school recently?"

"I'm over twenty and trying to do a college course because I can't get a job without qualifications but the work's too difficult. Heh, what's with the skirt?"

"It's a kilt."

"Are you scotch?"

"No, scotch is a drink, if you mean Scottish, no, but it's more convenient than trousers. How'd you think you'd get on pulling up your knickers with your arms bound?"

"So are you like a true Scotsman and have nothing underneath?" Tracy laughed.

"That's something I'll keep to myself." I'd begun to like the inquisitive girl and although it pained me, laughed too for the first time for ages. "Did you come here to actually help or just to gossip?"

"Yeah, but cheering you up is part of the service. I'll pop your dinner in the oven and make a pot of tea and later on, worry about cleaning this place up a bit."

Actually she surprised me by her caring attitude. When she saw the difficulty I had in lowering myself into a chair without using my arms, she came and helped by clasping me around the cast and expressed her concern as to whether she hurt me. Her questioning started again when we sat drinking the tea. "How'd it happen?"

"A young lad driving a forklift truck carrying a load of scaffold poles in a sling, swerved to avoid a marker in the site and the end of the poles hit a wall and swung them round and the other end caught me across the shoulders. He drove the forklift pretty fast so they hit me hard and knocked me down. The health and safety rep warned him about moving scaffold poles on sling only a few days before but he didn't take any notice so I guess they've sacked him now. The unions are on my case for compensation but they may take years to settle and will wait to see what permanent damage has been done. Is the meal ready yet or are you going to do a King Alfred and let it burn?"

"Nope, just making sure it's properly heated through but I could turn the gas up and make black pudding of it."

Again she showed her thoughtfulness when she assisted me to sit at the table and served the meal. I felt a bit mean eating in front of her but she'd only brought enough for one. It didn't worry her and we chatted away until after she'd cleared up and I tried to walk to the toilet. By then tiredness after being up all afternoon began to take over and I stumbled and she held me. "I guess I get to see if you have anything under that kilt now," she laughed as she guided me to the loo, "Do you need to sit or just pee?" and when I indicated the need to pee, she lifted the kilt, took hold of my prick and waited while I performed. Of course it started to harden when she shook it and gave it a few rubs and commented, "Nice one, looks as if it still works. Now let's get you to bed and I'd better get back home before mother comes to check on me and finds I haven't got the place tidied up."

She saw everything I had when, without any signs of embarrassment, she removed my kilt and put on my shorts, in fact she played with my prick more than necessary and I found her attention most enjoyable, or would have done had I been fit and able. Not since Debra left two months previously had a girl seen my prick and she never touched it. "You don't have to do this Trace," I protested, "The Social Services carer will be in later to do it," but my protest went unheeded and I think she enjoyed playing as much as I did.

Next morning, a Saturday, she turned up with Betty, her mother. "Doesn't look as though my daughter did much housework yesterday," Betty commented when I showed them in the lounge.

"No, but more importantly, she improved my morale and thanks to you, and her, the meal I had was far superior to whatever I would have microwaved," I answered not wanting to get Trace in trouble.

"What you mean is, she sat talking for most of the time." She grinned and went on, "I brought the car, are you fit enough for a trip to the supermarket and anywhere else you need to go?"

"Can I drive, Mum?"

"No, if his skirt rides up over his knee, you'll get distracted and not watch the road," Betty teased but in the end relented and I sat in the front alongside her. Betty in the back seat several times told her to watch the road but it was all in fun and I quickly learned where Tracy inherited her teasing.

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Romantic /