Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Synopsis
   Tracy's mother sends her to help an injured man with his chores...and
spends more time lifting his morale.
   My Helper
   by obohobo
   Warnings
   Please take note!
   The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written
for adults only.
   MF Rom
   If you are underage or offended by such material, or if viewing this
file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this
file-story now.
   This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or
otherwise is purely coincidental.  The ideas and thoughts that follow are
pure fantasies.  In real life, at the very least they would be unpleasant
and probably illegal.  Fantasies are like that; daydreams where we can
contemplate and imagine the sensations without suffering or inflicting the
pain, despair or humiliation.
   (C) obohobo 2011
   "Mum sent me to see if you needed any help and she gave me a dinner to
heat up for you."
   Depressed and annoyed at having to move from my chair, I'd hobbled
painfully to the door when the bell rang and struggled to open it, half
expecting, half hoping the visitor would be gone by the time I got there,
and stared with some surprise at the girl, well young woman, who greeted
me. "Who are you?" I asked.
   "Tracy Kerringham, most people call me Trace.  Aren't you going to let
me in so I can heat this up?"
   I shuffled to one side and awkwardly closed the door.  "Should I know
you or your mother?"
   "Probably not, we live next door to Kathleen Durrant who works in Maxim
Engineering's office and she told us about your difficulties after the
accident and Mum said you might need some help and said that I wasn't doing
anything this afternoon so I should get my arse over here and offer to do a
few chores and cook you a meal."
   "Thank you and her, but I can manage."
   "From the way you're hobbling along, it looks like you find it
difficult."
   "A bit.  I'm Michael Boothe, Mike."
   "Yeah, I know.  We read about the accident in the paper, or their
version of it.  Is that blue thing a straightjacket they've put on you so
you're not a threat to girls like me?"
   I smiled, "No, it's a spica cast.  Both my clavicles, my shoulder
blades, and some of my ribs were broken in a number of places and they had
to put pins and bolts in to hold the pieces together and then they put this
plastic cast around my body and upper arms so they wouldn't move while the
fractures set."
   "That sure makes it difficult for you to do things, no wonder Mum sent
me over but why don't you hire a maid?"
   "A supervisor at Maxim's doesn't get paid all that much more than other
workers on the site.  Did you expect me to hire you?"
   "Well I haven't been able to get a job and the chances of my getting one
are pretty slim, but Mum said not to accept any money."
   "And she pushed you to doing this even if you are not keen?"
   "Yeah, but I thought you'd be an old fart but you ain't that old really
are you?"
   "Hell no, I'm not even thirty yet but the back pain makes me walk like
an old man.  What about you?  Left school recently?"
   "I'm over twenty and trying to do a college course because I can't get a
job without qualifications but the work's too difficult.  Heh, what's with
the skirt?"
   "It's a kilt."
   "Are you scotch?"
   "No, scotch is a drink, if you mean Scottish, no, but it's more
convenient than trousers.  How'd you think you'd get on pulling up your
knickers with your arms bound?"
   "So are you like a true Scotsman and have nothing underneath?" Tracy
laughed.
   "That's something I'll keep to myself." I'd begun to like the
inquisitive girl and although it pained me, laughed too for the first time
for ages.  "Did you come here to actually help or just to gossip?"
   "Yeah, but cheering you up is part of the service.  I'll pop your dinner
in the oven and make a pot of tea and later on, worry about cleaning this
place up a bit."
   Actually she surprised me by her caring attitude.  When she saw the
difficulty I had in lowering myself into a chair without using my arms, she
came and helped by clasping me around the cast and expressed her concern as
to whether she hurt me.  Her questioning started again when we sat drinking
the tea.  "How'd it happen?"
   "A young lad driving a forklift truck carrying a load of scaffold poles
in a sling, swerved to avoid a marker in the site and the end of the poles
hit a wall and swung them round and the other end caught me across the
shoulders.  He drove the forklift pretty fast so they hit me hard and
knocked me down.  The health and safety rep warned him about moving
scaffold poles on sling only a few days before but he didn't take any
notice so I guess they've sacked him now.  The unions are on my case for
compensation but they may take years to settle and will wait to see what
permanent damage has been done.  Is the meal ready yet or are you going to
do a King Alfred and let it burn?"
   "Nope, just making sure it's properly heated through but I could turn
the gas up and make black pudding of it."
   Again she showed her thoughtfulness when she assisted me to sit at the
table and served the meal.  I felt a bit mean eating in front of her but
she'd only brought enough for one.  It didn't worry her and we chatted away
until after she'd cleared up and I tried to walk to the toilet.  By then
tiredness after being up all afternoon began to take over and I stumbled
and she held me.  "I guess I get to see if you have anything under that
kilt now," she laughed as she guided me to the loo, "Do you need to sit or
just pee?" and when I indicated the need to pee, she lifted the kilt, took
hold of my prick and waited while I performed.  Of course it started to
harden when she shook it and gave it a few rubs and commented, "Nice one,
looks as if it still works.  Now let's get you to bed and I'd better get
back home before mother comes to check on me and finds I haven't got the
place tidied up."
   She saw everything I had when, without any signs of embarrassment, she
removed my kilt and put on my shorts, in fact she played with my prick more
than necessary and I found her attention most enjoyable, or would have done
had I been fit and able.  Not since Debra left two months previously had a
girl seen my prick and she never touched it.  "You don't have to do this
Trace," I protested, "The Social Services carer will be in later to do it,"
but my protest went unheeded and I think she enjoyed playing as much as I
did.
   Next morning, a Saturday, she turned up with Betty, her mother. 
"Doesn't look as though my daughter did much housework yesterday," Betty
commented when I showed them in the lounge.
   "No, but more importantly, she improved my morale and thanks to you, and
her, the meal I had was far superior to whatever I would have microwaved,"
I answered not wanting to get Trace in trouble.
   "What you mean is, she sat talking for most of the time." She grinned
and went on, "I brought the car, are you fit enough for a trip to the
supermarket and anywhere else you need to go?"
   "Can I drive, Mum?"
   "No, if his skirt rides up over his knee, you'll get distracted and not
watch the road," Betty teased but in the end relented and I sat in the
front alongside her.  Betty in the back seat several times told her to
watch the road but it was all in fun and I quickly learned where Tracy
inherited her teasing.
   She pushed me around the supermarket in a wheelchair.  I can walk but my
back gets painful after a while and I'm rather slow and with the Saturday
crowd jostling in the aisles, she decided it would be quicker and safer for
me to use the chair and with my blue spica cast, I really looked an
invalid. We avoided the ready-made meals section and bought fresh, `proper'
foods.  "If I'm looking after you, we'll eat properly and not junk food,'
she told me and it seemed that, by default, she would take over being my
helper full time.  I wasn't about to complain as I enjoyed her company but
I found there was a price to pay.  "If I'm going to help you, you can help
me with my college work, that is if your space suit hasn't addled your
brain," she commented.
   After lunch while she tidied the lounge, I had a look at her work sheets
and didn't find much difficulty in the work, and, with a little revision
from the textbooks I'd used in college, I thought I could cope.  However,
by mid afternoon I became too tired to continue without a sleep and fell
into bed and dozed only to be woken an hour later by a naked Tracy crawling
in alongside me.  Her hands quickly found my prick and massaged it to full
hardness.  "Would you like a blowjob?" she asked.  How could I refuse?  One
thing led to another and I brought her to a climax using my tongue on her
clit.  We did study some of her college assignments and I tried to explain
the methods of working rather than doing the problems for her.
   Over the next few days, when she wasn't at college, we progressed from
hand and blowjobs to full intercourse but with her taking the top position,
which we both found enjoyable although I looked forward to the day when we
could fuck like a normal couple.
   Our relationship flourished until on a Thursday afternoon a fortnight
later, we were cuddling on the settee, half studying, half playing, when
the door burst open and Debra stormed in, "I heard that little bastard
Kerringham slut who doesn't even have a father, had moved in and just like
her mother, free and easy with any man and now it looks as if she's setting
her fangs into you.  Well she can get the hell out of here, I can look
after you without the need for sex.  Get out bitch and leave my boyfriend
alone." The outburst left me flabbergasted for a few seconds because our
relationship had never been good although I went out with her for a few
months but she left when I said I couldn't afford to keep taking her to the
restaurants and theatres she wished to visit.
   Meanwhile, crying Tracy grabbed her coat and ran for the door.  I called
after her and but before I could get near, she slammed the door.  Furious,
I turned on Debra and ordered her to leave.  "That girl has more love in
her than you will ever have, you're the one who is out of place here so you
can turn around and go back to where you've been and who you've been with
for the last two months.  If I ever see your face again it will be too
soon. Leave my key on the table." Only when I threatened to call the
police, did she leave.
   I phoned Tracy but got the answerphone and left messages, Betty answered
later but said Tracy wouldn't speak to me and wouldn't be helping me again.
I think she understood and wanted to help but said Tracy was adamant that
she never wished to see me again.
   That night I lay awake for a long while going over the events and
praying that Tracy would relent and come to see me; her coursework lay on
the table so she'd have an excuse but although I waited all day Friday and
sat hopefully by the window, she didn't come.  By Saturday afternoon, I
knew I'd have to take the initiative; I'd have to go and see her.  "I
should be able to walk that far now," I told myself, but when I started out
with a coat, cloak-like around my shoulders to protect me from the keen
wind, I decided to detour via the supermarket to buy some flowers and in
doing so, almost doubled the length of the journey.  Exhausted, I rang the
bell and Betty came to the door.
   "Oh my God, Mike, you look awful.  Sorry, you look about done in.  Come
inside, Tracy's out supposedly she's gone to a disco but I think she's
looking for somewhere to escape to stop thinking about you." While she made
me a hot drink and a sandwich, I tried to explain that Debra probably saw
the item in the paper where an exaggerated claim for damages was being put
in on my behalf.
   With tears threatening to run down my cheeks, I explained my
relationship with Debra and what she's said.  "Some of what she said is
true, Mike," Betty answered, "In my younger days, I had many boy friends
and had sex fairly frequently although not as often as the stories
suggested.  I went to parties and, although I took precautions, something
went amiss and I became pregnant with Tracy but I didn't know who was the
father and didn't really want to know and in those days DNA testing was in
its infancy and expensive, so I didn't bother.  Since then the only man I
could have lived with, had an invalid wife he felt obliged to stay with. 
Mother helped look after Tracy and I continued to work to keep us.  Since
she became old enough to leave, I've had several relationships but nothing
lasted.  I guess Trace takes after me in that she needs a man around her
and I've done nothing to discourage that but made sure she took precautions
and didn't get herself preggers.  You were the first one she seemed to have
more than a passing affection for, so I'd hopes for you to continue to be
together.  I don't think all is lost yet..." She paused and looked at me
with a strange expression on her face.
   By then I'd finished the drink and when tiredness made my eyes difficult
to keep open, Betty smiled and said, "Can you make it up the stairs Mike? I
think you need somewhere to sleep." Her smile turned to a grin when she led
me into Tracy's room and helped me undress and get into her bed.  I prayed
she knew what she was doing and this wouldn't end in a fight.
   For a while I tried to keep awake but the sleepless nights and the long,
painful walk took its toll and I only woke when I heard Tracy's voice,
"What the hell is going on, Mum?  Why is he here?"
   "Get into bed with him and find out.  You need to talk but for now a
cuddle may be all that is needed and all he's capable of.  He's knackered
and sore from walking to the supermarket to get flowers for you and then
walked all the way here.  I sent that other boy away; you don't need him
like you need Mike.  Get undressed and get in with him and sort your
problems out." With a little more persuasion from Betty, she climbed in and
when she started crying, I struggled to get close and cuddled her as best
as I could.  We didn't talk until the morning and then not until we'd made
love.
   Three months later and we are still together, living together now.  The
spica cast came off after a month and I'm back at work although not fully
fit, I can do most things including being on top when we make love, which
we do very regularly.  Trace continues with the college course and is doing
quite well even if she is not an A student.  The insurance claim drags
slowly on and we joke that I will be an old age pensioner before it is
settled, but we make do on my pay and Trace doesn't demand to be taken to
expensive places.  Most Sundays we visit Betty's for a meal but we return
the favour about once a month.  Life has now become a routine of living as
a loving couple and while I wouldn't thank Roy Colby for causing the
accident, I did go into Maxim's office and thank Kathleen Durrant for
suggesting to her neighbour that I needed some help, help that brought
Tracy into my life, and me into hers.
   Finis
   
  
My Helper