tagIncest/TabooCaregiver

Caregiver

byjoe32112©

It was my eighteenth birthday with no good reason to celebrate because my life had become nothing more than a twenty four seven caregiver to my father who had been stricken with cancer. My life still wasn't that great even before that. My mom died when I was twelve. I raised my little brother because my father was always at work. Then he couldn't work at all, he was so sick.

It's the medicine they were pumping into his body. He was not handling it very well and it had made him very weak. He hadn't taken a shower in three days because he said the feeling of water on his skin was very uncomfortable. Almost like it burned. But I couldn't stand it anymore, so I helped him to the bathroom.

"No!" he whined, then almost cried leaning his back on the wall to hold himself up. He was frightened such that I felt bad for him.

"Dad, you need a shower!" I pleaded.

I swear, the Chemo has had an effect on his brain too. He's emotional as hell all of the time. "Please, Dad."

"No, you get in the shower."

I would have if I thought it would coax him in there too.

My father is forty years old. He is very successful and is every bit as handsome as George Cluny. He even looks a little bit like him.

My girlfriends melt around Bob, my dad, whenever they're near him. Then they stopped coming around completely. Even Johnny didn't want to hang out anymore. It figures. I give Johnny my heart, soul and virginity and he dumps me. I'm glad we only had sex once if you want to call it that. I can't blame my friends though. It's very awkward around here now and I can't leave the house very often.

Little Bobby Junior is self absorbed as any twelve year old should be. I did my best to keep him from the messy disease my dad was suffering. I love BJ with all my heart. He's a good kid, too.

"Daddy," I said with a sweet voice, walked up close and unbuttoned the top button of the shirt that he had been wearing to match his pair of boxers. And the slippers that kept his feet warm, were all too much for me to bare. I wanted my dad back. My sexy dad. My healthy dad.

"Kimmy, you don't understand how it feels."

"Is it the heat, Dad, cuz I can make the water cool so it feels nice," I tried to sound convincing as I ran my fingertips upsidedown on his chest.

He squirmed like he got the heebie-geebies. "No. Don't, baby. I need to sit down," he cried.

"Let's get your clothes off and sit you on the side of the tub. I'll put a towel down."

"I'm embarrassed, Kimmy. I don't want you to see me naked," he complained, stressing on the word naked. He leaned past me for the toilet, managing to seat himself while I assisted.

"Seriously? That's your problem?" I asked. "Dad, I don't care about that. It's silly. I want to help you."

"I have to pee," he said and scrunched his cheek up to his eye like he was a burden.

"Can you get your shorts down?"

"Yeah, but you have to get out."

"I don't think so. I'll turn around."

"Then turn around."

"Fine!" I retorted.

I rolled my eyes and did as he said with my hands on my hips. I heard him struggle and squeak his butt on the toilet seat then it was silent. Finally, a trickle echoed the bathroom. I peeked over my shoulder to make sure he wasn't going to fall. I got a glimpse of his crotch but his hand was covering his penis.

Not sure if I was being queer or what but I wanted to see it. He's got a great body at forty and I've become infatuated with him as I've grown. I imagined the disease was going to destroy this gorgeous man eventually. I shivered.

Since my mom died, I've had to take her place. Deep down I want to. I want to be there for my dad. Mostly out of love as a daughter but part of me, a little secret part of me for the past few of years, has wanted to satisfy him like my mother use to.

Sometimes, I know Dad is needy but he has nobody. I've caught him on the computer a few times looking at porn. I played it off like I didn't see anything. It took him a while just to get over Mom and he's gone out with a couple of women but I don't think he's had sex since Mom.

I remember even when I was little, I would jump and play on the sofa with him. I'd be so curious about his privates, accidently pressing on it or resting my head there. He never, ever tried anything inappropriate. Though as I got older and started to get boobs and a figure, I caught him checking me out. More so, after Mom died. I didn't mind at all.

Our relationship is well balanced. We get along, fight, use sarcasm, joke and share problems. The only difference between me and Mom is that I'm not his lover. I've thought about it lots of times. I've masturbated to visions of my dad.

I remember thinking, this poor man is in for the fight of his life. He's a winner though. He'll beat this, I prayed.

Dad leaned to pull his shorts up and lost his balance falling forward. I caught him just as I broke the weird trance I was in. His head almost hit the marble floor. It took all my might but I pulled him back up.

He hurried to cover his crotch but I got a clear shot of my dad's slung penis. It's darker down there but he keeps his pubic hair trimmed nicely below his tan lines. His dong is light brown in color and lightens near the tip. I don't know why, but I was so anxious and thrilled to get a look at it.

I leaned to make sure he was okay, rubbing the top of his head and tousling his hair.

"You're so good to me, Kimmy," he said with gratitude. He put his arm around my waist and pulled me close. His face sideways on my belly. A small rush went down to my pelvis.

"Because I love you, Daddy," I said sweetly. "Now, will you please let me wash you with a cloth at least. You don't have to move. Don't be embarrassed. I'll wipe up the water after I get you back to the couch."

"You don't have to do this."

"I want to. I want you to feel clean and fresh. Look. I'll use the little jug."

I reached under the vanity and grabbed it. It's a little watering jug with a spout that we keep there to clean ourselves after we pee or poop. Most people don't do this and it's why they smell. My parents taught us to do this as children.

I ran the sink to lukewarm while keeping my right leg close to balance Dad. I soaked a clean washcloth and rubbed a bar of soap a few times on it then set it and the jug on the vanity for him to see.

Dad's shorts were still bunched at his ankles. I leaned down to sneak them out from under his feet hoping he wouldn't put up a fight and he didn't. His eyes were closed for the most part. I stood in front of him and unbuttoned the rest of his shirt. I had to help him sneak his arms out then tossed it on the floor. I squatted so we were eye to eye. He looked at me.

"Get over it. Okay?" I said huskily.

"Fine. Have your way with me," he chuckled as did I.

Alas, I was going to explore the curiosities I've always had for my dad and make him all nice and clean, too.

"Now just close your eyes and relax," I said softly.

I picked up the spout and poured little bits of water onto his head and rubbed it into his hair. Too much of the water was spilling on the floor.

"Dad, if you move your hands, most of the water will flow right into the toilet," I proved to be right as he rested his hands on his thighs, reluctantly. His privates unveiled and water ran over his penis and dripped from its tip.

"This isn't so bad, Kimmy."

"I told you. If you would just learn to trust me sometimes."

"I do sweetheart."

If he had his strength, I'm sure he could have washed himself in the tub but he was very weak that day. He just couldn't go another day without bathing.

I put a small dollop of shampoo in the palm of my hand and ran it through his hair. He wobbled as I scrubbed gently.

"Hold onto my waist, Daddy," I told him.

Just as his hands wrapped my waist I felt a tingle travel around my hips. It did help balance him.

"Hold your head down and put your elbows in."

He did so and surprisingly, most to the water ran into the toilet as I rinsed his hair.

I also noticed his dick was just a little perkier than before. The topside was pushed up against the edge of the seat wanting to escape upward.

I continued pouring just a couple of trickles on his shoulders and traced his arms a bit too. I grabbed the washcloth and softly ran it over his shoulders and arms. Then I ran it down his back. I lifted his arms and washed his armpits, then his ribs. I squatted and looked at his sudsy body.

"You have a beautiful body, Father."

He just looked at me and said, "Are you trying to embarrass me?"

I just smiled and ran the cloth over his slightly hairy chest.

My dad is pretty well fit. He worked out regularly until he got sick. Sometimes I would go with him if BJ didn't need looking after.

"You're a beautiful girl, Kimberly."

This was a surprise only because his voice had a lot more sincerity in it than it usually did when he said that.

"Thank you, Father."

He smiled with sarcasm because I rarely call him that.

I worked the cloth down to his stomach, stopped and asked, "Why don't you have a girl?"

"Pffft," he expressed and I noticed his wanker was a bit thicker.

I stood up and used the jug to rinse his body. I pretended like I didn't see his cock stiffen. Small trickles of water ran down his tan skin. Puddles formed on the marble.

I kicked my flip-flops off. The bottoms of my jeans were getting wet. I was enjoying it. I wore hip huggers and an orange spaghetti strap shirt that didn't quite cover my tummy which bulged slightly over my tight jeans.

Suddenly I felt a weakness. One that was making me feel sympathetic and wanting. Thinking about and wanting to give him pleasure. Wondering how long it would be before he couldn't get a girl, go on a date or have sex if he wanted to.

"You are my girl, sweetheart."

I had to gulp at that but I knew what he meant. His little baby-girl.

What would it matter if we shared a moment right then? It sure felt right. I was glad to be giving my dad a little bird bath but nervous as hell to let him know what I was thinking. My bad.

With that thought, I knelt down and lifted his hands on my shoulders. The puddles drenched the front of my jeans. I switched the jug with the cloth. I placed it right on his navel and washed it. The rag slung and plopped over his cock while suds formed and oozed down around his scrotum.

I didn't look at him but I didn't look right at his manhood either. I looked straight ahead like I was doing a job. It was now or never, I thought. I looked up at him and gave my dad a slight grin then reached down and smothered his package with the rag.

He gasped a bit, "Do you have to..."

"It will just take a sec; No, I mean a girl you can have sex with. Don't you get lonely; horny?" I inquired, wedging his rod from under the seat to free it.

"I do, Kimberly."

"Lift up a little," I ordered.

Dad raised his right butt cheek and then the other while I cleaned real good behind his balls and his asshole with my right hand and held his cock with my left hand just to keep it out of the way. Dad's cock stiffened more.

"Dad, are you getting aroused?" I asked him with a smile and a crooked jaw.

"This is what I was afraid of," he barked.

"Now you're afraid? A few minutes ago you were embarrassed," I remarked, jokingly.

"A few minutes ago it was smaller; Are you going to rinse it?"

"It's a normal reaction for a man to grow an erection when being fondled... Bathed, I mean."

I poured water over Dad's privates and used my other hand to help rinse the soap from his undersides. I finished with my hand sliding along his taint over his balls and took hold of his erection from underneath.

"Are we finished?" I asked sweetly, looking him straight in the eyes, taunting my father to cross a line while I gently stroked it once.

After all, I certainly had dropped enough clues indicating a willingness. I just wanted to help him. Would Daddy succumb to a little bad behavior? He certainly deserved it.

"Kimberly, you're my daughter." He said with regret.

"And I'm your cook and your maid and your caregiver. I want to be these things, Dad, and I want to take care of you. For you and for me."

It was quiet for a spell. I must have stroked him five times.

"Haven't you ever thought about it?" I asked, squinting my eyes.

"I try not to."

"You can let it go, Father. It's just us here. Nobody else," I reminded him.

He ran his fingers through my light brown hair.

"Kimmy."

"Shhhh." I grinned and glided my hand up and down it a couple more times.

"Ahh, Kimmy!" He gasped.

I looked down at it. It was bigger than I had imagined in my hand as it stretched to its full length. My saliva drew quickly and drool spilled from my mouth. I felt it drip down my chin and onto his shaft. It made his shaft more slippery. Dad ran his other hand through my hair and held my head respectfully. Then he grabbed handfuls of my hair and moaned such that I thought he was going to guide my mouth to his hard cock, but he didn't.

I was so turned on, I could feel my panties moisten as I slowly stroked him back and forth. It was amazing to watch the loose skin push and pull. I must have stroked him like fifteen times by then.

He hardened even more and then he pulled back with a groan. Deep red became his soaking wet shaft. I assisted with my other hand watching and anticipating his tension build. I kept my face down focusing on his manly piece, waiting.

Dad's was far nicer than Johnny's boyish penis. It was full and manly, thick and thriving.

I know he wanted me to stop but I didn't. "Oh Shit, Kimmy!" he cried out bending his head back with pleasure.

And it happened. That fast. A spurt went right in my open awestruck mouth. I pulled his throbbing cock closer and held it to my tightening lips. Dad squirted up my nose then on my cheek. His hips jerked slightly, freeing my father from years of absence. I took it in my mouth and he flexed every time I twirled my tongue around his nicely shaped head. It was salty and throbbing then it softened to tender.

"Oh God!" he huffed, "We shouldn't."

I used my hand to plunge his cock in my mouth a few times and I moaned to let him know I was enjoying it. I scraped my face with the side of my finger to rid his cum just before I looked up at him. I didn't want him to feel bad or guilty and I'm sure his jizz all over my face wouldn't paint a pretty picture of his little baby-girl.

"You needed that," I whispered.

"It isn't right, Kimmy," he said catching his breath.

"I don't feel bad."

Then he pulled me up by the armpits and hugged me. He kissed me on my neck, desperately. Finally, he released me. His hands grazed the sides of my perky tits when I leaned back with the intention to rinse him off. I reached for the spout. Dad snatched it from me.

"I'll do it," he voiced.

It made me feel a little ashamed.

"How about getting supper started? Bobby will be home soon."

I lowered my gaze, stood, rinsed my hands at the sink and walked out. "Walk back to the couch by yourself then," I mumbled, not sure if he understood me.

I had stew slow cooking all day so there was nothing to do except warm the oven for rolls. I heard Dad struggle across the family room. I looked over just in time to see him fall.

"Daddy!" I yelled out and ran to his aid.

He was wearing the white robe I had left for him.

"I'm okay. I tripped on the damn tie strap."

"Let me help you."

I got him to sit up. The robe was wide open. He was back to his normal size already and regretting what had happened between us, obviously. I helped to lift him up by his one arm. I walked him and sat him on the couch where all he needed was there for him. He'd been living on that couch for almost a month.

At first, the Chemo wasn't that bad but that latest dose had hit him so hard, he threw up that morning. I think that was what made him unary and discouraged about the whole treatment he was getting three times a week at the hospital.

He wrapped his robe tight and tied it like he was irritated. He wouldn't even look at me. He stared at the TV as he sat there.

"It will never happen again. Okay?" I assured him.

"I love you, Kimmy. Let's just forget about it," he said, sounding exhausted, fluffing his pillow.

He rolled to his side and made himself comfortable. I covered him with a quilt.

"I love you too, Daddy," and I kissed him on his forehead.

*

Later that night, after dinner, Bobby Junior went for a sleep over at his friend's house down the street.

Maggie, my should be best friend stopped by but didn't stay long because it's hard to bear witness to such a beautiful man in such a poor condition. Bob, my father, was moaning slightly most of the time she was there. I checked on him several times. He reassured me he was alright.

After Maggie left, I was making the TV room tidy, thinking Dad was asleep. I had my brother's Bart Simpson pajamas on because my laundry was in the washer.

"Baby?"

I turned to see my dad with his arm across his face as though he was uncomfortable.

I shoved the old newspapers in the fireplace to burn, walked over and sat my little butt in the tiny space available on the couch between his curled up knees and his head. I combed my fingers through his hair.

"What do you need, Daddy?"

"Those pills aren't working," he grunted.

"Which ones?" I asked to be sure but he wouldn't say. "The nausea pills?" And he shook his head, no. "The Tylenol?" And he shook his head, no. Well, that only left the stool softeners. "You can't poop?" I asked.

He shook his head, no once more. "It's been a few days and my stomach is hurting bad," he pouted.

The doctor said this might happen and instructed me what to do if it did. Well, seeing as how my dad was so weak and the experience we shared in the bathroom earlier, I thought it would be impossible to get him in there again.

"I'll be right back, Dad."

I grabbed the Vaseline, some rubber gloves and filled that same jug with hot water.

I set the items on the coffee table as I nudged the ottoman with my foot between the table and couch. Dad's eyes were closed and I wondered how difficult he would be about this. I reached under the couch and retrieved a bedpan we had stashed there incase of emergency. I set it on the ottoman which seemed as though it was going to line up perfectly for the procedure I was about to put my dad through. I lit a scented candle, grabbed an old crib liner from the hallway closet and placed it under the covers, on the couch cushion just behind my dad's butt. I thought he'd fallen asleep. Trying not to disturb him, I slipped the quilt off of him and out of the way. I remember thinking, I wish there was a way to do this while he slept, as I sat on the coffee table.

"Sit up, Dad," I said, waking him and pulling at his elbow while sneaking his robe out of the way, scrunching it behind his back. The plastic made a crinkling noise and a look of wonder became his groggy face.

"Mister Cline? Imagine you're the patient and I am the nurse and please do not fight me."

"Kimmy, I'll do anything," he surprised me. He must really be suffering because I know, he knew what was about to happen.

He covered his shrunken penis with the corner of the quilt. I reached forward and palmed each side of his slightly hairy butt cheeks and scooted him close to the edge of the couch where his butt hole lined up nicely with the bedpan as I thought it would. His privates were fully exposed to me. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to watch while I propped his feet up on the table with me between them and the little ottoman between mine.

"Now, you have to relax, Daddy, this might feel a little uncomfortable." I warned as I snapped on the gloves and dipped two fingers into the jar of Vaseline.

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byjoe32112© 11 comments/ 64106 views/ 7 favorites

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