Helping Hand Pt. 01

I was hoping my mom would buy me a car for my 18th birthday, like just an old junker, but I knew she couldn't, I understood. So my birthday came and I wasn't surprised.

"I'm sorry baby. Maybe I can get you one before college. I'm saving up."

She worked hard to raise me and my brother and sister on her own and there was no extra money for that kind of thing. It was alright. My boyfriend would pick me up for school and drive me most everywhere else, so that was fleek. The only thing was he had a job after school and I had volleyball. I was hoping volleyball was my way out of Kentucky. I was captain and I was pretty good, definitely the best in our area. My mom of course didn't have any money for college. So it was either I'd get a scholarship or go the community college. I worked my ass off to stay in shape and pretty much practiced even if in the off season with anyone who'd play or I'd just practice my serve for hours.

Volleyball practice ended around 6, and my mom was at work then, she worked til 9. My aunty picked up my little bro and sis at their school early in the day and took them to her house. We lived out of town a little ways. I'd ride my bike most of the time but it was like 5 miles. After going hard all day, especially at practice, and then that hilly road home, it was really too much, especially if it rained. It was a day like that when I was pumping as hard as I could in a pouring down rain storm when I got super lucky. Mr. Jenkins, our neighbor came rolling up in his truck.

"Hey Jessica, you're soakin' wet girl, let's throw that bike in the truck and git you home." He got out and I had to help him throw my bike in the back. It must have been hard to be an old farmer and lose all your strength just getting old. We hopped in the truck and it was so toasty warm I was happy as heck to peel my soaking sweats off and sit in my volleyball shorts and let the heater dry my legs.

Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins had been our neighbors forever. They lived about a hundred yards down the road, but out in the country that's like next door. Their daughter Sue Ann baby sat me when I was a child. Now they lived alone in their old farmhouse and Mr. Jenkins was too old to farm. He leased out his land to tobacco growers now. Sometimes mom would send me over with a pie since Mrs. Jenkins had her stroke. She had always been so sweet but now she could barely talk and she used a walker. I guess Mr. Jenkins spent a lot of time taking care of her.

"Girl, you're gettin' in good shape with all that volleyball and pumpin' that bicycle so far." Mr. Jenkins slapped down his big rough hand on my bare leg, which was kind of a shock. Even more of a shock was that he left it there a minute and gave it a few squeezes, even sliding up my thigh a bit. But he lifted it off before getting to my shorts and I just though it was kind of a grandpa affection. Whatevs.

"How is Mrs. Jenkins?" I asked.

"Well, she is getting a little bit worse off every day. Sue Ann is talking about bringing us to Knoxville and a retirement home where she can get care."

"That's sweet of her. I bet you'd love that."

"Well, it is nice of her. But you know I grew up here. I farmed this farm for my daddy and this country is all I ever knowed. I don't know about never looking out at my fields at sunrise again."

He looked really thoughtful looking out his windshield and it looked like a little water was welling up in the corner of his eye. His old spotted, veiny hand was laying flat on the seat beside him. I reached over and put my hand on top of his. He kept looking straight ahead and then turned his hand so that he could hold mine. That was sweet. We held hands for a minute and then he pulled off the road slowly. He turned and lifted my hand to his face and gently kissed it. He held it there against his warm mouth, his hot breath feeling good on my hand which was still cold from the ride in the rain. Then he started moving he face back and forth, just kind of blowing on my hand, very gentle. It felt so good and seemed just kind so I kept looking at him sweetly as his eyes continued to water. He turned over my hand and pressed his lips in my palm. The he kissed up my wrist and forearm. That was a little weird.

"Mr. Jenkins, I know things are hard for you," I said and gently pulled my hand from his. "It might be really good for both you and Mrs. Jenkins to get some extra help."

He gave me a really sweet old man smile and said in a cracked voice, "I do believe you're right, I do believe you're right. I'm having trouble these days getting her in and out of bed. I undress and dress her alright, but then I'm afraid I'll drop her when I pull her up or lay her down from her walker. She might need a wheelchair soon and I don't know how I'd get her in and out of that."

"Why don't I help you tonight. Mom and the kids aren't home til like 10. I'll help you get her dinner and then get her into bed."

"Jessica, you darling girl. Well I would really appreciate that help. You know, she still does a little cooking and will have things started when we get there. Maybe you help her finish up and I can enjoy a little whiskey for once before dinner."

I laughed.

"Oh you old farmers and your whiskey. Ok. You get a special evening. I'll finish dinner while you sip your whiskey. Afterwards I'll clean up and then we'll put Mrs. Jenkins to bed."

He grinned big as you please and gave a little 'whoop' and put the truck in gear and started down the road. I pure forgot about his kisses on my arm. But when we pulled up to the house he didn't turn the truck off right away. Her put his hand back on my thigh, this time higher, up by the hemline of my shorts, and his big long fingers gripped the inside and kind of pulled. It took my breath away. He pulled enough so my knee came up on the bench seat and spread my legs a bit.

But he said really kindly, "Jessica, you don't know what happens to an old man when he can't work and he loses his woman." Then his tone got kind of serious and his voice got deeper. "There's very little that makes him feel like a man anymore." I totally understood what he meant and felt genuine empathy for him. Then he leaned across the seat and put his big cracked lips to mine, pressing them but kind of gently. They were wet and his breath was hot and he slowly pushed his tongue out and licked around my lips. I was just kind of frozen there. I wasn't afraid at all, I wasn't even shook. I just let him kiss me and put his tongue in my mouth. I even pressed back a little. Truth was he was kind of a good kisser. It was so weird, I don't even know how long we were kissing. He kept squeezing my thigh and I kinda came back to reality when the side of his hand brushed my vagina a bit. I slammed my legs shut and pulled his hand out from between my legs. But I wasn't mad. I kinda understood it and knew he wasn't perving, he was just so thirsty.

"Ok Mr. Jenkins. I know it's hard," that almost made me laugh, because sure enough, I saw he was hard down there in his overalls. Real hard. That surprised me at his age, but I thought it was funny. "It's hard getting old when you were such a capable man for so long. But let me help you a bit tonight. And maybe I can help until Sue Ann gets you two to Knoxville."

I started to get out of the truck and he said as he was turning it off, "I'm still capable little girl. I can assure you of that."

Sure enough, Mrs. Jenkins was standing with her walker at the stove, stirring a pot. It smelled like there was cornbread in the oven. When she turned and saw me, the side of her face that wasn't paralyzed cocked up in a big smile, and she put up an arm for me to come close for a hug. She was such a sweet old lady. I sat her down at the table and helped her turn the chair in.

"I'm gonna finish dinner for you tonight and you and Mr. Jenkins can sit there while he enjoys his whiskey."

Mr. Jenkins had grabbed the bottle and sat at the table with a glass and set about telling Mrs. Jenkins how he came upon me on the road in the rain. Only in his telling, he "threw the bike in the back" by himself and rescued the poor little girl like a hero, which I suppose he kind of was. He didn't tell her about the kissing of course. But I was standing at the stove stirring the pot and I couldn't stop thinking about it. His big soft lips pressing on mine and his tongue licking along my mouth. It was just sweet and kind of romantic. I wasn't really turned on or anything. I mean he was an old man. But wow, he was a good kisser, and his lips were incredibly soft. I couldn't stop thinking about his hand squeezing my thigh. Maybe I was just a little bit turned on.

After a little bit, Mr. Jenkins came up behind me and pressed against me, just lightly. Mrs. Jenkins was sitting at the table facing the other way and I knew she couldn't turn. He brought the bottle around and whispered in my ear. That hot breath again on my neck, "You have a little sip darlin'." He brought the bottle to my mouth and rested it n my bottom lip and tipped up. Now I don't drink, I told you, I'm super serious about volleyball and training. But I let the warm whiskey fill my mouth and it felt so good. I just kind of held it there and he was kissing the back of my neck. Then with his hands gripping my arms, he pushed his groin into my butt. He was hard again! Rock hard.

And he just kind of held himself there grinding between my ass cheeks. I was either going to choke on that whiskey or spit it out, so I just gulped it down. It was so hot in my throat and chest, I took a big breath through my mouth like I just came up from underwater and involuntarily pushed my ass back against him. He pushed his cock a little harder between my crack. I stayed there kind bent over the stove breathing rapidly and deeply and then he let my arms go and pulled his groin away and ran his hands up the side of my ribs and around a little and held on to my breasts for just a few seconds. Then he turned and said to Mrs. Jenkins, "Well mama, it looks like the little girl's almost ready. And Daddy's starvin'. I'ma gonna go wash up. You hungry my darlin'?" he purred to Mrs' Jenkins and then I heard him walk off to the bathroom.

I just stood there, I don't know how long. My chest was warm from the whiskey, and my nipples were hard as stone where he just gripped my breasts. I seriously could not think. I simply didn't feel any animosity. Any anger or insult. I just knew the old man was feeling probably more alive than he had in years. But I was feeling dazed. A good dazed. And warm. And it was really weird.

He came out of the bathroom and set the table while chattering tenderly to Mrs. Jenkins. He sat down and told her, "You know darlin', Jessica has volunteered to come over and help a little. So I think it would be right for me to pick her up from volleyball, as a kind of trade. Then we can get you into bed a little earlier so she can do the other things she needs to do."

This was all a new plan to me, but it made so much sense, and I did like helping them. And I wouldn't have to ride that janky bike home anymore! I dished them both helpings of food and M.r Jenkins gave my butt a little pat. As long as this didn't go to far I thought, I was ok, he;s feeling his oats. I liked helping them. And I'd get rides!