In Sickness and in Health

I had loved him all my life, and following a terrible accident his life and indirectly mine changed forever

*****************************************************

It's taken me a while to be able to thoughtfully reminisce about my life over the last few years, but now that he's no longer with me, it seems I have nothing but time. My name is Anna Daniels. I'm twenty-five, educated, now the owner of small but profitable business, and most importantly, the mother of a beautiful, two-month-old baby boy.

I began this story a while ago but had to put it aside because it stirred up some very special memories and a heart wrenching sadness I couldn't seem to deal with at the time. When I went back and re-read the story last night, halfway through, I stopped and thought, "This sounds more like a litany of sexual episodes than a recounting of my life." Yes, sex and love-making had played an important part in our liaison, but what bond us together was much, much more. To that end, I went back and made some changes and additions that I hope will provide a fuller perspective on my physical, emotional and sexual relationship with my Grandfather.

In writing this story, I had wanted to tell you about my Grandfather, Jonathan Thibodeaux. I know there have been hateful rumors and innuendos that have circulated about us, but I wanted you to understand about his accident, my life with him after the accident, and how I eventually learned to accept what had happened and to thrive despite the way my, no our lives were so dramatically changed.

He was a wonderful man, and even now, when I think of him, I am filled with love and the feelings of intense physical arousal that he and only he had ever awakened in me.

*****

I suppose I would have been considered sheltered and very naive by most people. My father had been in the Foreign Service, and though I was born here in the United States, I grew up in France. For the majority of my school years, I attended Saint Agnes of Aquinas Convent School for Girls and would only see my father during breaks from school. I had just turned eighteen and was about to start my first year at University when my Father unexpectedly died after a short but serious illness, and I came to live with my Grandfather here in the United States. My Grandfather, (my Mother's father), whom I affectionately called Pa'pe, was not a stranger to me, whenever he was in France on business, he would make a point of visiting me at school and sometimes if his schedule allowed, we might spend a day in Paris, visiting the museums, or I might stay with him at his hotel for a day or two enjoying his favorite restaurants and bistros, and just talking and bringing each other up on what we'd been doing. I grew to trust and admire him and always looked forward to his visits.

Pa'pe was always attentive and thoughtful during those first weeks of my return to the United States. I had grown up an only child, introverted, shy, and obedient. In an attempt to make my transition as smooth as possible, once I was settled in my new home, he took special effort to introduce me to others my age, both boys and girls, and to make sure I never doubted his concern or feelings for me.

My Pa'pe was 5' 11", and despite a once hard, fit body, that due to neglect was becoming a little overweight, he was still strong, vital, and virile. With a clean-shaven head, healthy olive toned complexion, and large sparkling, brown eyes, he may not have been attractive by most standards, but to me, he was a handsome, desirable man.

I think he knew me best of all, and I remember how I would always laugh in feigned embarrassment when Pa'pe would say I had a charming innocence about me that hid my natural curiosity about sex. At eighteen, I was a petite thing and often mistaken for someone younger. Just under 5' 4" with long, thick, blonde hair, large blue eyes, full lips, I had well-shaped size 36C breasts with highly responsive nipples that became erect and pointy with the slightest stimulation. I was slim waisted, with a firm shapely ass, rounded womanly hips and as Pa'pe discovered a "tight, sweet, young pussy" that belonged to him.

*****

I recall how lonely and depressed I was in the beginning, how I would sometimes cry myself to sleep at night, and Pa'pe would hear me crying and come to my room. Often he would crawl into bed with me and hold me close to him like a small child, murmuring soothing words until I fell asleep. I needed that closeness and always felt comforted by his embraces. At times when I was particularly upset, he would urge me onto my back, and I would put my head on his shoulder feeling enveloped by his love as he rested his arm across my stomach and his leg over my thigh.

"Shhhh, my little one, there's no need for tears. Your Pa'pe is here and will always be here for you." I fondly recall how he would place his large warm hand between my legs and slowly, lightly begin to rub the little button that was hidden there. Soon, the tears would stop, and I would feel the little button begin to swell and pleasantly ache. As the feelings grew, I would close my eyes and turn my small body towards him. When he increased the pressure, my hips would begin to subtly thrust against his hand until a warmth washed over me in soft, quivering waves.

When my body calmed, Pa'pe would say, "Yes, yes, that's it, little girl, you can sleep now, close your eyes and go to sleep now, everything will be fine. You will see, trust your Pa'pe."

Pa'pe would kiss me lightly on my mouth before getting out of bed and quietly leaving my room.

Perhaps because of my upbringing and the bond that had always existed between us, I never thought his behavior strange or wrong, it was just my beloved Pa'pe showing his love and concern for me, and in my loneliness, I welcomed his closeness and intimacy. The comfort he showed me during that difficult period after I moved in with him only lasted as long as I needed it to, stopping after I had worked through the loss of my father and my homesickness.

*****

Perhaps a year after returning to the United States and beginning my life with Pa'pe, he was involved in an unfortunate automobile accident during which he had broken a few ribs, fractured his left arm and clavicle as well as having suffered a terrible concussion that resulted in a coma lasting three days.

Though the physical injuries healed without any problems, it seemed to me that Pa'pe was somehow different after coming home from the hospital. The change had been a gradual one, and because I was closer to him than most, and because these changes were mostly directed at me, I doubt if any of his friends or business associates even noticed. This man seemed to have gone from a sometimes authoritative but always thoughtful, loving man to a self-absorbed, openly demonstrative sexual person whose own personal needs and desires came first.

After the accident, as he physically grew stronger, so did his attention toward me. After a while, the personality changes that I spoke about before, and his sexual acting out, became more frequent and more intense.

While Pa'pe's sexual obsession seemed to be directed at me, and though unnerving, I don't think I was ever frightened by anything he did. Surprised and curious, perhaps, but I don't believe I was ever afraid of him. Despite his new gruffness and insensitivity, I still trusted and loved him; I owed so much to him, and I just wanted to help him, to please him, however I could. I wanted my old Pa'pe back.

*****

The physical aspect of our relationship started innocently enough, you know, with the normal familial intimacies, hugs, kisses, and caresses that made me feel special by the most important man in my world. But it soon progressed to more intimate touching and urges.

It was as if he became a different person, and I his prey. This "other" Pa'pe sensed my emotional neediness, and once he was confident in my submission to him, and in my reluctant willingness to do whatever he wanted, he slowly began to prepare me for lack of a better word for what would eventually happen.

During his recovery, Pa'pe occasionally began to use a wheelchair, not because he had to, but because he would become tired when on his feet for a long time, and he found the wheelchair convenient. He also enjoyed "playing" with me when he was seated in his chair.

He would sit out on his balcony in his chair during the late afternoon or sometimes in front of the fireplace in the early evening and have me come and sit in his lap. In the beginning, I'd innocently snuggle onto his lap with my head on his shoulder as we talked. During one of these afternoons, he slipped his hand into my blouse and began to massage my breasts as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Alternating from one breast to the other, he would pinch my nipples and roll them between his fingers until they were hard and extended. He would eventually open my blouse or the bodice of my dress and slip it off my shoulders, and I would gradually feel the hardness of his erection under me as he became more aroused, and then the warm moistness of his mouth when he sucked my tits.

After a few days of this kind of attention, when I had become accustomed to and obviously enjoyed him fondling and sucking my breasts, he began moving his hand down between my legs and teasing my clit.

"Ohhhh, that feels nice," I had said one evening as I sat in his lap. He had inched his fingers inside my panties and was leisurely rubbing my clit as we watched a movie that was playing; I remember feeling relaxed and safe in his arms as he touched me there, but I also sensed that his caresses and intent were different than before. The light pressure of his fingers as he massaged me was almost calming at first but quickly became sexual. I closed my eyes and without realizing it, opened my legs wider for him.

"Yes, yes," I moaned.

As the pressure and friction on my clit increased, my breathing became fast and shallow, and my heart raced as I clung to him and whimpered while Pa'pe slowly, deliberately brought me, his Granddaughter to orgasm.

*****

I don't think I recognized his manipulative nature at first.

One morning as I finished my breakfast, Pa'pe sat down at the table, and as he finished his coffee, he told me that he was having my things moved into his room.

"What?" I asked as I looked up in surprise.

"I've been experiencing mild pains and discomfort, and thought it would be helpful in my recovery if you were near during the night in the event I had any problems or needed assistance."

I started to object, but from the stern look on his face and the tone of his voice, I simply nodded and meekly said, "Alright," before gathering up my things and leaving for my morning classes.

When I came home that afternoon, I went to my room, and as soon as I opened the door and saw none of my things, I closed the door of my old bedroom and with a sigh of resignation, walked down the hallway to his.

I had been sleeping in Pa'pe's bed for about three weeks, and surprisingly he seemed to be his old self most of the time. There had been no overt sexual acting out, and I was relieved and perhaps a little too eager to believe that he was okay and that things were back to normal, the way they should be.

This calm was not to last, when one night, I was startled awake by him groaning next to me. I was lying on my side with my back toward him, Pa'pe had one arm around my waist, and he was humping, thrusting against me. I began to feel a growing warmth between my legs, and it was then that I felt his swollen penis between my thighs rubbing against my clit with each stroke.

"What are you doing? Stop, what are you doing?" I kept repeating.

"Shhhhh . . . . be quiet. . . be quiet," Pa'pe admonished me, his voice, thick with lust.

He pulled out, and turning me over onto my back, got on top of me, and again forced his rock hard cock between my thighs. His hips pressed against mine, making his cockshaft rub directly against my clit that was engorged and glistening, straining out of its thin, sensitive protective hood. Pa'pe pulled back and started rubbing the head of his long, thick cock along my moist pussy slit. Once or twice, his pre-cum covered cockhead pressed against my hole and he would linger a few seconds before quickly pulling away and resuming the sawing motion between my legs.

I lay quiet and gave myself over to him. I think he was having trouble finding the right rhythm and was becoming frustrated. Finally, pulling me closer to him, he straddled me, and with his knees, on either side, he pressed my thighs together and began roughly pumping in and out. In a few minutes, he grunted loudly, and I felt his body stiffen and then the wet sensation of something spilling out and over my legs.

That was not the last time I would be awakened during the night with him cumming between my thighs.

*****

I had grown understandably concerned with Pa'pe's and my behavior, and I had suggested to Pa'pe that I make an appointment for him to go in and talk to his doctor, Dr. Radcliff. Unfortunately, after a lot of arguing and cajoling, he made it clear that he had no intention or need to see his doctor because there was nothing wrong with him. Rather than continue to fight with him about it, I stopped bringing the subject up and decided to schedule an appointment for myself. A day or so later, I called Dr. Radcliff.

After speaking with Dr. Ratcliff, he felt it would be more beneficial for me to see another doctor to discuss my grandfather's particular situation and to hopefully get some insight into how to help him and me to cope. Arrangements were subsequently made for me to talk with a Dr. Grant, a Psychosexual Counselor specializing in brain injuries.

I had been crying from the minute I walked into Dr. Grant's office. I didn't realize how much stress and anxiety I had been under. It felt good to be finally able to talk with someone about it, and over the next three, ninety-minute sessions, I recounted to Dr. Grant everything that had been happening.

Though embarrassed and initially concerned with what he would think of me, I steeled myself, and with the Doctor's understanding and reassurance told him about everything, from the affectionate grandfatherly touches at the beginning that gradually became almost nightly intimacies. I tried to explain to him that while my Grandfather did sometimes become angry, impatient and frustrated with me, he had never, never been violent with me.

I told him that Pa'pe's behavior was not apparent toward or with other people and not outside our home; in public, we were the typical grandfather/granddaughter. Yes, there were occasions he might become aroused (I never knew when or what I might do to cause this), and he would caress my breast, or slip his hand between my legs, or kiss me on the mouth when we were out.

Sometimes when we went out or to dinner or whatever, he was particularly proud of my breast and would want me to go braless. My nipples are very sensitive and easily aroused, and men would see me with hard, erect nipples and stare or make comments that would excite Pa'pe. He would become frustrated but still maintain the appropriate behavior while in public, and when we got home, he would want gratification. Whether it was fondling and sucking my breasts, masturbating me, having me give him oral pleasure, or cumming between my legs, it was only afterward that he would become calm and his old self.

I told Dr. Grant that after the intimacies started, but before I moved into his bedroom, Pa'pe had started coming to my room at night and that I had begun locking my bedroom door at night. This only served to infuriate him, and he took the lock off the door. I had considered moving out and hiring someone to stay with and take care of him, but I knew I'd never be able to do that.

I love Pa'pe, sick or well, he was my grandfather. The person that you see now is not my Grandfather, the person I grew up with since childhood is there inside, but this person is not him. He was sick now, and I just had to be patient and be there when he needed me.

*****

Dr. Grant sat and listened without interrupting except to prompt or question or occasionally ask for clarification.

"As you know, your Grandfather suffered a traumatic brain injury in his accident earlier in the year," he finally said.

"Patients who have undergone the same type of trauma as your Grandfather can experience different kinds of changes; physical, emotional, cognitive, physiological, behavioral, to mention some of the most common. From what you've shared, it seems he has suffered damage to the part of his brain that controls sexual functioning. Sex is an integral part of human development and existence, and hence it's significance in our day to day lives is a vital part of who we are."

"I have a question for you, Anna," Dr. Grant began, "to your knowledge was your Grandfather, even before his accident, the type of person who enjoyed, particularly with women, touching, hugging, and kissing? Was he a "lady's man," a lover, etc.? Did he sometimes touch or say things to you that could be viewed as sexually inappropriate?"

I thought for a moment, and then in a barely audible voice, responded, "Yes, yes."

"I want you to know, Anna, that this manifestation that you are experiencing now with your Grandfather is to a large part, an exaggeration of his pre-injury personality. This is not happening because of anything you may think you have done or are doing."

"Your grandfather's brain injury has manifested itself in an increased interest in sex . . . with you. He may very well have harbored an attraction, sexual attraction for you for a long time, and never acted on those impulses. Because of societal norms, mores, and conventions, these feels and desires were sublimated as they would be for most members of society. Your Grandfather's condition has lowered those filters that controlled this aspect of his sexual behavior."

These changes can also be reflected in a lack of inhibitions as well as increased sexual aggressiveness. You may find that your Grandfather has difficulty controlling his sexual behavior as well as often making inappropriate sexual advances in inappropriate situations to you. He may also not feel satisfied after sexual activity, which probably accounts for his need to engage frequently, to want sex more often.

It doesn't sound as if he is violent or abusive with you, which is good, although I can hear your concerns about him being sometimes difficult to control when he is aroused. As a close, loving, and caring individual, you may think that acquiescing to your Grandfather's urges is the easiest and less confrontational way to handle him. But by doing so, you may unintentionally create a vicious circle that only serves to make the situation worse. Since he seems to be focused exclusively on intimacy with you, I suspect that at some point, he will want and demand more intimate sexual interaction with you . . . putting it less delicately, he will want intercourse with you.

Taken by surprise by Dr. Grant's last statement, my head snapped up in shock.

"Do you know what incest is, Anna?" Dr. Grant asked.

Nodding my head, I told him, "Yes, I know what it is."

"Has your Grandfather had or attempted to have sexual intercourse?"

"No, no, Dr. Grant, he, we haven't. He'd never do that." I replied defensively.

"You need to understand that he may see you as a sexual partner, not as his Granddaughter. Sexually, as a male, this would be a strong primal urge he would want to satisfy. So, knowing this, I would discourage and strongly urge you to stop any sexual interaction you may be having with him.

*****

Dr. Grant explained that there were some things that I could do to make Pa'pe's and my situation less stressful; therapy, counseling, groups, distraction techniques, and if indicated medication, but that these things would be the most advantageous if he participated. Going forward, with the Doctor's help, we would work on getting Pa'pe in for a full evaluation.