I was one of those young people who didn't really give much thought to what I would do with my life as far as a career went. Oh, I had interests, sure, I even majored in one, biology. It was after I graduated that I realized that industries hired lots of chemists, but few biologists. The states hired a few each year but no where near the number that flooded into the job market every spring.

So, I went back to school, nursing school, and became a nursing administrator. That was ten years ago, I'm now thirty-six and have been with the Riverbend Care Center ever since, now the Manager of Nursing Care. So, I'm nicely paid, like my job and am well-respected by my peers.

If I'm able, I like to help our new residents move in since I already know them from the interview and contract process that precedes their residence in our facility. It's a large facility but is divided into three general sections ranging from assisted living to total care.

We often first meet people as they come to us for assisted living and that was how it was when I first met Susan Andrews and her mother, Betty Hudson.

Now, Betty was younger than many of those who come to us, she was just sixty-two, but her daughter wanted her closer and, in addition, she had not been feeling too well lately, nothing diagnosed, just not feeling well. I had wondered if it might be depression or anxiety but, that's up to the doctors.

So, Betty was moving in on a Saturday afternoon being helped, of course, by her daughter, Susan, who was about forty. They were both attractive women, Betty really only looked about fifty, nice and trim, nice figure, auburn hair, while her daughter, Susan, was quite pretty, dressed in a much more provocative way, it was a Saturday, of course, and she was in a short, yellow A-line dress. She did have the legs for it and, truthfully, being around so many women in their eighties, well, I did enjoy her presence.

They were moving her into one of the two-bedroom units and I had come over to make sure that the paperwork was all correct and that everything was proceeding well. We all chatted a bit and I left them to finish unpacking. Later I took some additional paperwork to be signed and we were in the spare bedroom when I noticed a massage table all folded-up against the wall.

"Oh, do you give massages, Betty?" I asked, thinking that it might be something our residents might enjoy.

"No, oh, no, I was having someone in once or twice a week. Do you provide massages here?"

"Not really except for those who need bathing, they do get lotion rubbed on but it's not really a massage."

"Mmm, I'll really miss that," she added.

She looked up at me from unpacking a box of clothes and asked, with a smile,"And do you ever give baths to the residents yourself?"

"Oh, Mom, Mister Decker is too busy for that," her daughter told her.

Being in the presence of two attractive women, I answered, "Well, I'm here for you so if you would like a bath or a massage, just how could I refuse you."

"Well, then, maybe later this evening?"

"I'll be here until about seven-thirty, I'd have time then."

I took the papers back to my office, did some rounds and later remembered my promise. So, when I was ready to leave, I pulled my car around to her building and let myself in, then rang her buzzer.

The door opened a few inches and Betty looked out.

"Oh, I was hoping it was you, Charles, come in," and she opened the door further, keeping herself back as I came in.

Then I saw why.

She was wearing a sheer, lacy housecoat and, unmistakably, nothing under it.

Well, no man is the master of his cock, mine lurched in my pants when I saw her. As I said, she was attractive and would pass for fifty any day.

"You're off duty now, right, Charles?" she asked.

"Right, I'm all yours," smiling, having an intuition as to where this might just lead.

"Then, let's have some wine, shall we?" and she poured us both glasses of Merlot.

She clinked her glass with mine, "Here's to my new life here and a lovely massage I hope we can both enjoy."

This wasn't leaving too much to my imagination. Our new resident was turning out to be a rather hot woman.

"I got things ready, Charles, come see," and she led me into her bedroom and there was the massage table all set up, massage oils ready and candles burning.

"We can start if you like?"

I nodded and she asked me, "Face up or face down."

"Down's fine," I answered as she turned and dropped her housecoat to the floor and got on the table face down over a large Turkish towel and sheet.

I dribbled oil into the well at the base of her spine and began rubbing it around her back, up onto her shoulders and neck. The backside of her was quite lovely, nice firm butt, narrow waist, smooth shoulders. I rubbed down her arms then back up to her neck and down her back.

"Mmm, that's nice, Charles, just what I was hoping."

More oil on her lower back, then up over the mounds of her buttocks, rubbing, kneading,

My hands were sliding across her cheeks, dipping down grazing her inner thighs as she moved her legs apart inviting me further. So, my hands went down further, caressing along near the sides of her labia with my oiled fingers.

"Mmm, oh, mmm, that's what I need to feel better, Charles, your hands are so wonderful," and she brought a knee up, opening herself further to my touch.

I reached one hand up under her and rubbed back and forth across her pussy.

"Mmm, sooo good, Charles, you make me feel so good."

"You feel good to me, too, Betty."

I could see her pussy in the dim lights, she looked like she might be shaved, there was no hair under her pussy or around the side of her labia, just silken smoothness as I rubbed.

Then I slid two fingers inside as she moaned.

"Mmm, mmm, ohh," she groaned as she lifted her hips up so I could probe her more deeply. I pulled my fingers out and led my thumb up into her and my fingers now wiped back and forth across her clit, firm and erect and excited.

"Oh, mmmm, oh, that's wonderful, oh, please don't stop, it's so lovely, mmm, oh, oh, yes, yes, mmm, UUH, UUH, uuh, uh, uh, mmm, mmm, oh, Charles, that was wonderful, just wonderful."

I pulled my thumb out of her and asked her to turn over. As she did, I now had a clear view of our newest resident.

Her breasts were beautiful, really firm under my hands as I spread more oil over her, she looked much younger and, yes, she was shaved.

As my hands glided over and squeezed her breasts, she looked up at me and said, "My late husband, Edgar, gave me a boob job for my fortieth birthday. They've held up pretty well since."

"They're really beautiful," I replied as I bent over to take a nipple in my mouth.

Her hand reached up to stroke my face as her other hand dropped off the table to grip the bulge in my pants. My heart was racing when, right then, we both heard the front door open.

"Mom, Mom, I brought you ... oh..." and Betty's daughter was standing framed in the bedroom door gaping at us, my hands on her mother's oil-glazed boobs, her legs spread, naked on the table.

I froze but Betty didn't. No, she didn't skip a beat.