Gwyn the Caregiver: Her 1st Stop

My name is Gwyneth--Gwyn for short--and for lack of a better term, I am a caregiver.

Before lockdown, I used to work in marketing. Every morning I would get up and commute to one of those big glass and steel buildings down in the City. It was a horribly stressful job that I hated, but the money was fair, and everyone always nodded approvingly when I told them where I worked. However, when things collapsed during the pandemic, I, like millions of others, found myself with plenty of free time to question my life choices. This is when I decided to become a caregiver, sort of.

At first, I tried to become a proper caregiver--you know like the ones who work with old people in care homes. So, I volunteered to work at a care home down the street from my flat, but the work was physically and emotionally hard, not to mention that the management was terrible and the pay even worse. I only lasted a month there, before I quit and had to rethink my plans again. There must be some way I can help people while enjoying what I do and making a decent living at it to boot. Eventually, after a somewhat awkward trial and error period I wouldn't want to bore you with, I hit on my current job.

I got off the bus with my work bag in hand and made my way through one of the many green leafy parks that dot North London to my first stop of the day. It was still early, and aside from a few people out for a run, I had the whole place to myself. Overnight, a heavy dew, left the endless green lawns slick and wet--which in my profession is always a good sign.

'Beep, beep, beep,' my watch sounded.

"Mrs Addison hates it when I am late," I chastised myself before I began to walk a little faster. I quickly crossed the park and exited onto a residential street lined with large, red brick, family homes.

"Ah, there it is, number 37," I said to myself as I nonchalantly as possible turned and walked up the carpark to the house door and rang the bell. In the reflection off the glass panel set in the heavy wooden door, I quickly checked my appearance, smoothed down my shoulder length dirty blond hair and reapplied my red lipstick.

A few seconds passed and from inside the house came the sound of what sounded like someone arguing.

I braced myself to run, or at least lie if I needed too.

With a swift jerk, the front door of the house was pulled open and there stood a tall thin, serious looking woman, with dark hair and sharp features. She wore a white silk, work blouse and black skirt that stopped just above her naked knees. It was Mrs. Addison.

"We have a signed contract, and if you, and your damn employer cannot meet the terms of the contract you two signed, then I am afraid you leave us no choice," she barked into the headset she wore that was attached to the phone in her hand.

Without breaking stride, Mrs. Addison reached out and grabbed me by the back of my arm, pulled me into her house, and slammed her front door.

"No, we are not interested in arbitration," she barked in a short clip tone, before motioning with her hand that who ever she was talking too must be crazy by twirling her finger around her ear.

"I can come back," I mouthed silently.

"No," she mouthed back and wagged her index finger at me. "Of course, we've read the contract! Have you?" she shouted down the line. Mrs. Addison rolled her eyes and then beckoned me to follow.

As quietly as I possibly could, I followed her through her immaculate house to her home office. The room was easily the size of my whole living room with a full desk with several monitors, book lined walls, several leather chairs, and a full leather couch. She took a seat on the couch. "No, no, no. I am not calling the port authority on your behalf," she rolled her eyes again and pointed towards a notepad and pen on her desk.

I set my bag down and grabbed the notepad and pen off her desk and handed it to her.

"Just give me the damn number, but I am charging you for this," she grumbled, before she jotted the phone number down.

I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room and waited for her call to end.

"Yes...Yes...Of course not...." She rolled her eyes at the caller on the other end. It went like this for several seconds before she motioned for me to take my jacket off and hang it up on the coat hook near the door.

I complied. Today, underneath my jacket I was wearing a pair of blue denim overalls and a tight white top that showed off my D cup breast nicely.

The stern woman scooted back on her couch and eyed me up and down. Her mouth gaped open slightly as her pink tongue came out to rest on her upper lip. "No fuck you, and fuck that whole damn boat," she instantly snapped back at her caller.

She motioned to my bag and mouthed, "get ready."

I bent down and began looking through my bag. This gave her a good view down the front of my shirt at my big tits. From my bag, I pulled out a pair of pink, puffy knee pads--like the ones women would wear at a roller derby--and began strapping them on.

When I first started this work, I learned the hard way that I would spend a good deal of my time on my knees and a good pair of knee pads were essential. The first time I wore them, I was completely self-conscious and apologized profusely about needing them because I knees were killing me, but to my surprise my clients loved them. They saw them as some overt, sexual signal that they were about to get their pussies licked, and over time they have now become something of a trademark.

Mrs Addison nodded in approval at my knee pads and then motioned for me to take off my top.

Slowly I unlatched the brass buckles on my overalls and then let the front of them fall open. I wasn't wearing a bra, and the room was a little cold, so my big nipples were rock hard as they pressed against my white cotton shirt. The stern lady's eyes grew wide, and she motioned for me to sit next to her.

"No! No! No! If you limp dick mother fuckers cannot deliver, we will find someone who can," she berated the guy.

I sat down on the couch next to her. She turned and with her right hand reached up under my shirt and cupped my left boob. Her hands were cold which caused me to jump. This didn't stop her from latching on to my big hard nipple with her thumb and forefinger and giving me a hard squeeze.

"We can always find someone else," she muttered before she tugged at my shirt and mouthed, "take it off."

I pulled my top off, letting my big boobs fall in my lap.

Mrs Addison's eyes flared as she ran her red tongue across her thin lips.

I cupped my big left boob and presented her my erect left nipple to suck on. She slid down the couch as much as she could go and engulfed my nipple in her hot mouth. She rolled her wet tongue around the girth of my nipple several times before she began to bite on them. I tried hard not to moan, as she tried to make me cry out.

"Mmmup," she responded to the guy on the phone before angrily pulling my nipple from her mouth with a pop. "Of course, I'm eating while talking to you! You're the one that called me a 7:30 in the morning. What the fuck do you think I'm doing?"

She flashed me a smile and went back to work on my nipple while the man on the phone continued to drone on.

She snaked her hand down the front of her white silk blouse and undid her top three buttons. Underneath she wore a flat black bar for padding more than anything. She reached over the top of her bra and pulled on her tiny titty. Recently she got her nipple pierced, with a tiny starter bar going through it, and she loved to show it off.

She gave her nipple a little shake and mouthed for me to suck it.

I obliged and slipped down on her fine leather couch and took her whole breast into my mouth. I carefully sucked on it in a way not to make any noise.

"What!" Mrs Addison bolted up right. "They're divorcing!" Mrs Addison grabbed my head and held it in place as I continued to work her nipple with my tongue, rolling the ring over and over in my mouth.

I then bit her nipple--nowhere nearly as hard as she bites mine--which caused her to jump a little. I repeated this several times, until finally I caught her nipple bar between my teeth and gently pulled back until her nipple looked like it might rip.

"No! No! She was the one having an affair?" Mrs Addison began to hike up her skirt. To my pleasant surprise she wasn't wearing underwear and she must have got waxed in the last few days for her pussy was perfectly smooth. She then grabbed me by my head and shoved my face down into her moist pussy. Her clitoris was already hard--and given how skinny she was--jetted a good centimetre or two out from the top of her lips.

Normally there was a lot more teasing involved in our sessions. She liked to call me names, occasionally slap me around a little. All of which I was okay with. It's a power thing, I understand, but today she just wanted to get off. She dropped her phone on the couch next to her, ran her fingers through my hair and latched on to the back of my head. Her hips arched as she shoved her clitoris in my mouth as she continued with her conversation.

"Has he found a solicitor yet?" She demanded as she strained not to moan or let slip what was happening to her.

I continued to work her clitoris with broad strokes with my tongue, as I started from her pee hole and slowly worked my way up her little shaft. I had to go slow to avoid any embarrassing slurping noises.

"Of course, I fucking want to represent him, you fucking moron!" She shouted down the line as her fingers tightened on the back of my skull.

Her legs began to shake, her hips began to buck, and her breathing grew raspy. She was close.

"No, give it to me," she told the man down the line but when I looked up she was staring at me with her dark, wild eyes. "Give it to me," she said again, with more force.

Her pussy was now sopping wet. My face was drenched with her excretions, and I am sure some of it was on my top and in my hair, but this didn't stop me. I began to run circles around her hard little nub with my wet tongue. First clockwise and then counter clockwise, only stopping to occasionally give it a hard suck.

There was no way the man on the line couldn't know what she was up to now. Her breathing had descended into an outright pant, marred only by the occasional grunt.

"Give it to me, give it to me," she panted down the line.

Not letting up with my mouth, I reached around and slipped two fingers deep inside of her and hooked upwards towards her g-spot on top of her vagina.

"Give it to me!" she shouted down the line, as her hips bucked forward, and a great wave of pleasure splashed out onto my face. She orgasmed hard as she smashed my face hard into her hairless pussy, while her hips danced about. There, she held me in place for the longest time while her breathing and hips slowed. Eventually she unlocked her hands from the back of my head and set me free.

I sat up and with pride examined my work. Mrs Addison laid sprawled out on her leather couch. Her legs were still spread, her pussy was ajar, and there was a massive wet spot beneath her that would need explaining to her husband, but I would be long gone by then.

"What?" she said absentmindedly to the man still on the phone. "Oh yes, of course. Give me her number when you get a chance. I got to go. Bye," she pulled off the head set and threw it down on the couch next to her. "Fucking hell. I wish Mr Addison could do that for me."

I reached over and grabbed my white t-shirt and quickly used it to wipe her mess from my face and tits. "If he could do that for you, wouldn't you be suspicious of him?" I laughed before I pulled out a spare t-shirt from my bag and put it on.

"That's true. I would want to know who taught him to eat pussy like that, and how he is managing to stay in practice," she said a little suspiciously. "Come give me a kiss, will you?"

We kissed on the couch for a few minutes before she got dressed again. Afterwhich, we slipped out back while she had a cigarette.

"Where are you off to next?" Mrs Addison asked with interest as she took a drag.

"My next appointment is at eleven with several ladies from a local church group."

"Really?" Mrs Addison asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh yes, they love my pink knee pads just as much as you do," I said with a smile.