Helen Smith Pt. 01

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“Come on Helen, just do me, please…”

“I said no Dave and I mean it. You’ll just have to find another way or better still find somebody else.” I turned on my heels and strode purposefully to the door.

“Right I’m going. I’ll see you next week, okay?”

“Yeah, alright,” Dave replied. I could see the crestfallen look on his face. “We’re okay though right? You’re definitely coming back?”

I smiled. “Yes Dave, we’re okay and yes I’ll be back. I’m not offended… that much.”

I pulled the door shut behind me and bumped straight into Dave’s dad, Walter.

“Ooops Walter, I didn’t see you there,” I said.

“That’s alright duck,” he said, “are you going then?”

“Yes I am. I’ll see you next week, okay?”

“Alright sweetheart,” Walter replied. I could see his eyes were fixed firmly on my large tits.

“I take it he asked you again then?” he said.

I sighed. “Yeah…again…and before you ask, no I’m not offended.”

I opened their front door. I needed to leave quickly before Walter could give me his usual going away grope.

Too late. His large gnarled hands closed round my firm ass cheeks and squeezed. Damn him; for a man in his late seventies he sure was fast.

“Thanks Walter,” I said sarcastically.

“No problem darlin,” he grinned back at me, “see you soon.”

I shook my head as I walked down the driveway. Walter had been feeling me up ever since I had started working there. He took every opportunity he could to feel my tits or fondle my ass, although I had become quite skilful in avoiding him. I didn’t really mind though. It was only harmless fun and who was I to deny an old man in his twilight years a bit of pleasure.

I heard him close the door. I could just make out his wheezing laugh before he set himself off in a coughing fit.

Serves you right you lecherous old git, I hope you choke I thought as I climbed into my car.

* * * * * *

I guess I should tell you a little bit about myself. My name is Helen Smith. I’m thirty nine years of age, married for twelve years to Gareth, or as he likes to be called, Gaz. He hates his given name.

That’s usually what I call him as well although of late it’s been more like shit-head or ass-hole or toss-pot or you bastard!

As you’ve probably surmised I’m not particularly enamoured with him right now. This is due to the usual problem that plagues most relationships, married or not. Money…or to be more precise, the abject lack of it.

We are desperately hard up, struggling to make ends meet.

It was a shock when Gaz arrived home a few months ago to drop the bombshell of his redundancy. It was an even bigger shock when we realised he wasn’t going to get any redundancy pay either. In fact no-one at the foundry did. The bosses had seen to that by stripping the coffers bare before closing the company down.

We weren’t the only ones affected though. Every single person working there walked away with nothing.

However, the difference between then and now was startling. Just about everyone that had worked on the same shift as Gaz had managed to get fixed up with another job of some description straight away. But not my Gaz.

He was “waiting for the right job.” I had no idea what that meant. I was coming to the conclusion it meant “I’m a lazy, work shy bastard!”

Of course we argued. I didn’t get very far. He could be one stubborn son of a bitch when he wanted to be.

So here we are. Running out of cash. Our relationship virtually on the rocks.

I tried to help. Do my bit. I took several small jobs working a few hours here and there but there was never any permanency in any of them. Good jobs for women were just as hard to come by as for men. But at least I was trying. Not like Gaz, the selfish, idle bastard!

It was then that I had the bright idea of setting up my own gardening and cleaning business.

Lots of our friends and family had often said how clean my home was and how I seemed to love gardening. This was true. I took pride in how my home looked. We didn’t have a lot but what we did have sparkled and shone like new.

But my garden was my pride and joy. I derived much enjoyment from raising plants from seed and cuttings, using our garage as a potting shed. I tended and nurtured the plants I raised and as a result I enjoyed spectacular looking flowers and shrubs throughout most of the year at very little cost.

It was through this that one of our neighbours asked if I would be interested in looking after their garden. They couldn’t manage it now due to their advancing years. They would be happy to pay of course. So much an hour, for a few hours a week.

How could I refuse. It was cash in hand too. Ssshhh, don’t tell the tax man!

It was funny how word got around. Doing that one garden led to them recommending me to their friends who then recommended me to their neighbours. My family also helped out by recommending me when they saw an opportunity. You get the picture.

It seemed only natural when I was then asked if I could do some cleaning ataşehir escort bayan up as well and get shopping from the supermarket from time to time. I was happy to help.

It was through this network of recommendations that eventually led me to Dave and his dad, Walter.

They live in a village about ten miles out of town. Dave and Walter live in a house owned by Walter’s other son, Jim. He is a generous soul. The rent he collects from them is only just below the top price for that type of house. He certainly isn’t doing them any favours.

Still, I guess they can afford it, they seem to have quite a bit of money coming into the house, what with Walter’s pension and Dave’s social benefits.

Oh yeah, I haven’t told you yet. Dave’s disabled. Has been for a number of years. Some kind of accident. He doesn’t talk about it.

It left him disabled from the waist down and he struggles to use his arms and hands most of the time although I have seen him manage to use the TV remote control from time to time.

He’s single, always has been and is in his forties. And he has needs! It was these needs that he had been asking me to relieve for him today.

* * * * *

Gaz was out when I got home. I put my pay for the day into the jar that I hid at the back of the cupboard. Gaz would never find it in there. He was too lazy to turf everything out to try and find it.

The phone rang.

“Hi Helen, it’s me,” the cheery voice of my sister Rachel boomed forth.

“Hi Rach,” I said, “how’s things?”

“Good, good thanks. How’s things with you?” she asked.

“Fine thanks. I’ve just got back from Dave and Walter’s.”

“Oh I see…sooo, did he ask again?”

“You know he did. God he’s such a pervert. I may have to stop going you know.”

Rachel was laughing at me now. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” It was Rachel who had got me this job. She was a home carer at the time and had been subjected to Dave’s persistent requests as well. She had since moved jobs so it wasn’t a problem for her any more.

“Have you ever told Gaz about Dave then?” Rachel asked me.

“Good grief…no! Jeez he’d go ballistic if he found out. No, I can handle it. Besides it’s never going to be a problem,” I said.

We chatted about other things before she eventually had to go. I’d just hung up the phone when Gaz arrived home. He was pissed; again. To say I was less than impressed would be an understatement.

We had a massive argument about money or to be more precise our lack of it and when I went to bed, he didn’t. He slept on the sofa.

* * * * *

It was about a month later that the threatening letters started to arrive. It was the ones from the bank though which were the worrying ones. It was beginning to look like we could lose our home. Gaz as usual did his impersonation of an ostrich. Pillock!

I was working my ass off juggling several jobs at once whilst Gaz seemed to spend more and more time with his so called mates. It just seemed to me that he was spending money we didn’t have. Something would have to give. I was at the end of my tether.

* * * * *

It was the day I worked at Dave and Walter’s house. As usual I dressed in my customary tee shirt and leggings. As I slipped on my trainers, I stood and took a quick look in the wardrobe mirror.

The reflection staring back at me was pretty good I thought to myself. Medium height, around 5’7, medium weight around…err…I’m not saying… bottle blonde hair and brown eyes. I was a pretty good shape as well. Perfectly proportioned, so I’ve been told by many men, with 36DD breasts and a full round ass that just begs to be groped; for that just ask Walter!

You’ll do I thought to myself as I turned and left the room.

As I reached the hallway the sound of mail dropping through the letterbox stopped me in my tracks. I felt a knot in my stomach. The post was never good news these days.

I looked down. Oh shit!

There were several official looking brown envelopes together with the general leaflets and junk mail that seems to be delivered in a never ending stream these days.

I tentatively scanned through the brown envelopes. They looked okay today. Then I saw it. Oh God! There it was. The one from the bank. An official looking white envelope. I slid my finger under the flap and tore it open.

Shit…shit…shit! I silently read the bad news of the banks intentions to start repossession proceedings. Shit…shit…shit!

Tears formed in my eyes. I looked up trying to blink them away. I looked back down and carried on reading.

A glimmer of hope sprang from the page. We had so many days to make a payment and if we made that payment they would consolidate our arrears and come to some arrangement as to future payments.

I couldn’t believe it. There was light at the end of the tunnel after all.

I was still ecstatic when I jumped inside my car and shot of to Dave and Walters.

But as I drove, the reality of the situation began to escort kadıköy sink in. Yes there was a promise of salvation but how the hell were we going to come up with the money they needed. Shit…shit…shit!

I pulled up outside Dave and Walter’s house and stopped the engine. I pushed my thoughts to the back of my mind as I walked up the driveway.

I opened the front door and let myself in.

“Hello, only me,” I yelled out. From the back of the house I could hear the sound of dishes rattling. Walter no doubt washing the breakfast pots.

I walked into the kitchen. “Hello darlin,” Walter greeted me with his usual toothy grin. “Want a coffee?” He waved a mug in front of my face.

“Don’t mind if I do,” I replied. I sat down at the breakfast bar. Walter fussed around putting water in the kettle, spooning coffee and sugar into three mugs.

When the kettle had boiled he poured the hot water into the mugs.

“Here you go love,” he said as he handed me mine. “Do you mind taking Dave his, I just need to go to the loo.”

“Okay, no problem,” I replied as I picked up Dave’s special mug.

I knocked on his door and entered. Dave’s head shot up in surprise.

“Oh hello,” he said, “I am honoured, you bringing me my coffee. That’s a first,” he smirked.

“Cheeky bugger,” I said to him with a smile, “anyone would think I’ve never done anything for you before.”

“Well you haven’t really,” he said, “you won’t do what I really want you to do…will you!”

“For pete’s sake Dave, is that all you ever think of?” I said in mock outrage, “you’ve got a one track mind.”

“Not really,” he replied, “it’s just that no-one’s…done me…since Carol stopped coming,”

“You what,” I exclaimed, “you mean to say that you’ve actually had someone…do you…as you so crudely put it?”

I looked at the shit eating grin on his face. “I don’t believe it, I just don’t believe it,” I said, a look of shock etched on my face.

“Well it’s true,” he said, “mind you it cost me a few bob or two.”

“What? What are you on about,” I said naively.

“I paid her,” Dave said without a hint of embarrassment. “I paid her every time she did it.”

“What!” I shrieked, “it was more than once, you’re talking multiple times? I don’t believe it, I just don’t believe it!” I was shaking my head.

“I’d pay you if you’d do me,” Dave said in a forthright manner.

I stood there, mouth wide open trying to evaluate the last few minutes. No sod that, trying to evaluate the last few seconds.

Did I hear right! Dave was offering me money to jack him off.

“You can’t be serious!” I stormed.

Dave misinterpreted my meaning. “Okay cool down. Look I’ll pay you more than I did Carol. You’re way better looking than her anyway!

“What!” My mouth hung open. I was trying to form words but they wouldn’t come.

“You’ve also got a much better body than Carol. So if you’re prepared to take off your clothes while you…do me…I’ll pay you much more.”

“What, you want me naked?” I was furious now. Dave on the other hand was calmness personified.

“Sure, why not,” he replied, “it’ll be good seeing your tits in the flesh so to speak rather than hidden beneath your tee shirt.”

“Dave, I’ve got to go.” I turned on my heels and made it out the door. Straight into the welcoming arms of Walter.

He copped a good feel of my tits grabbing a generous handful of my 36DD’s in his large gnarled hands.

“You alright love,” he said as he continued to grope my breasts, “I thought I heard raised voices.”

I looked down at him. He’d never been a tall man, somewhere around 5’3 or 5’4 he’d told me and he was now somewhat stooped with age.

“Fine,” I snapped back. Walter seemed unconcerned by my stare and continued to fondle my boobs. Strangely it felt quite nice. It had been a while since Gaz or anyone else for that matter had fondled them. I realised that I missed it. I knew my body certainly felt that way when I felt my nipples pop up to attention.

Walter felt that too. “My, my lass, what’s occurring here!”

Enough is enough I thought. “Enjoying yourself are you Walter?” I snapped. “Get off, I’ve work to do!”

I shrugged his hands free and stalked off down the hallway towards the kitchen and out to the comparative safety of the large rear garden.

I was glad to be out in the fresh air. That and the warm sunshine seemed to wash all my troubles away. Well for a short while. It wasn’t long before my thoughts went back to the letter from the bank. How the hell were we going to come up with that kind of money.

As usual it would be down to me I thought. Gaz isn’t going to contribute a penny. I dug into the soil harder, imagining that a particularly hard lump of clay soil was Gaz’s head. The spade soon made short work of that!

It came to me unbidden. In fact it sort of crept up and caught me unawares. At first I dismissed it as a random thought but the bloody thing took root and grew. My active mind started to draw up a list of pro’s and maltepe escort con’s.

My sensible self kept bashing the idea down but like a overpowering weed the idea kept on growing and growing.

Half way through the morning, Walter brought me my usual mid morning coffee. I was on my hands and knees turning over the border with a hand trowel with my ass stuck up high in the air. I guess I must have looked a sight with my leggings pulled tight across my ass cheeks. I wasn’t aware he was there until I heard his grizzly old voice.

“My, my duck, you could park a bike in there!”

I spun round to see Walter looking at my ass and licking his lips. I gave him my nastiest scowl. He left my coffee on the bench seat and wisely scurried off.

The problem with stopping the hard work meant that my brain had nothing else to distract it and therefore gave it’s full and undivided attention to the weed of an idea.

I felt a knot in my stomach as I mulled it over and over in my head. Could I possibly be thinking about this. Seriously!

Just thinking about it was raising my heart rate. I could feel it pounding away in my chest. My breathing was ragged as the nervous tension built up. I could feel the heat sweep up my body to come crashing out of my face in a hot flush.

Shit…shit…shit!

My hands were trembling as I put down the coffee mug and went back to work, digging furiously, anything to break the feeling. It was too late. All I could think about was the weed!

Shit…shit…shit!

And then it was over. My time was up. The gardening for this week was over. It was decision time. Make or break. I swallowed hard as I went back inside the house to wash up.

I took several deep breaths as I washed my hands and face, trying to calm myself. It was little use, the breathing that is. It did nothing to calm my rapidly beating heart. It was pounding away so hard now I felt I was going to explode.

Walter was nowhere to be seen as I cautiously and nervously approached the door to Dave’s room. I turned the handle and slowly pushed the door open. Dave looked up and smiled.

“Come for your money,” he asked brightly.

“What do you mean,” I snapped back, instantly regretting my tone.

“Your money, you know, what we pay you for gardening.”

“Oh yeah,” I replied sheepishly.

Okay. Shit or bust time. No point in pussy footing round it now. It’s now or never.

“Dave?” I paused, the words were stuck in my throat.

I took another deep breath. Here goes.

“Dave, you know what you’ve been asking me all these weeks?”

He looked at me quizzically, clearly not sure where I was going with this.

I pressed on. “You know, about me…err…jacking you off. Well…err…how much would you…err…would you pay me…you know…to…err…to do it?

To say he was surprised would be an understatement. His mouth dropped open.

“What did you say; sorry; did I hear right?”

“Please don’t make me say it again,” I said. Once was more than enough.

“Are you serious? No…you’re winding me up!” He didn’t look best pleased.

“No, I am serious. How much would you pay me?! I stood with my arms folded across my chest. I don’t know why I did it but I squeezed them together and it made my boobs swell up over the top of them. They must have looked impressive as the eyes in Dave’s head nearly popped right out.

“Oh wow, you are serious,” he stammered. “Okay, okay.”

I could see he was a bag of nerves now. I wasn’t far behind him either.

“Err, well I used to give Carol ten quid to jack me off and twenty to blow me. So I guess I could give you twenty for a hand job and forty for a blow job?”

The look on my face must have been one on incredulity. I was just stunned though.

Dave completely misread the situation. “Okay, okay, I’ll give you forty for a hand job and sixty, no, seventy, yes seventy for a blow job.” He was a complete bag of nerves now.

But he wasn’t that stupid. “But for that you’ll have to take off your tee shirt. I want to see your tits. Okay!”

“Okay,” I heard myself say.

“What the fuck are you doing!” My brain was screaming at my mouth.

Dave looked wide eyed at me. I shifted my feet nervously. I didn’t know what to do.

My mouth again made my mind up for me.

“When do want me to start,” I said.

“Now would be as good a time as any,” he replied.

I moved up to the side of his bed. I should tell you now that he was more often than not in bed although occasionally his carer did get him out into a chair. Lucky for me he was in bed today.

I pulled back the bed covers. I took in a sharp intake of breath and then exhaled loudly.

My right hand reached down to his shorts. They had a tie cord round them tied in a bow. I pulled one end and it just sort of undid itself. I pulled the elastic band of his shorts out and with my left hand reached in.

Oh god…there it was. His cock, nestled in my hand and although it was flaccid it still felt fairly thick.

Dave groaned in delight. I could almost sense him having an orgasm right now although that wasn’t possible, or so I’d been told by my sister.

It fleetingly crossed my mind whether she’d ever…done him. It seemed strange she had that kind of information at hand so to speak.

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