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Exposing the Caregiver Ch. 01

By: YummyTiger



I want to extend a HUGE thank you to my editor! I am sure this was a tall order to edit.

To the readers: I hope you enjoy the story. Please let me know what you think, feedback is really the driving force behind my writing these stories. Also, is it worth continuing?



Day 1: The Reassignment



They say working with the handicapped is a labor of love, a calling. For Clare, it was a job, plain and simple. Clare had entered college with every intention of completing nursing school and finding a job in a hospital maternity wing. Yet, life has a funny way of taking your dreams, crumpling them up, and throwing them aside. Something that Clare was well aware of as she stepped through the front door of "Loved Ones," a group home for the elderly and disabled. 

To say that all nursing school dropouts end up working at places like Loved Ones would be a disservice to the vast majority of Clare's coworkers. For them, it was a labor of love, and they worked tirelessly to make sure the residents lived comfortably. That just did not describe Clare. She entered the foyer and sighed. Another day in Hell...

"Hey Clare!"

She turned to see the Billy, the longtime receptionist at Loved Ones. She thought to herself, as she did every time she saw Billy, Who the hell hires a male receptionist?

"Morning Billy," Clare replied without slowing.

"You look nice today," she heard him say in the background.

Of course she looked nice, I always look nice, Clare thought. She just didn't need every creeper telling her so.

Clare knew Billy had a crush on her. Heck, she assumed every guy had a crush on her. Why wouldn't they. She was in the prime of her life at age 24, worked out daily, and had a body most women would kill for. Her "girls," as she called her breasts, were her best asset and often left men tripping over themselves to get her attention. Too bad, here in the small town of Triton, none of them had any money. Just a month or two more and I can leave this trailer trash hellhole behind, she thought. Maybe nursing had not panned out, but she could still try modeling.

Clare ignored a few more coworkers on the way to the employee break room and sighed again when she entered the outdated, adjacent locker room. She was better than this!

"Well, well, good of miss high-and-mighty to show up."

Clare spun towards the voice, already knowing who it belonged to. Amy Gratsa was one of those other nurses, the ones who actually gave a shit about the people living here. Clare knew Amy worked her ass off to give her residents the best possible care. Of course, Amy was butt-ass ugly which meant she probably had no other options. Hell, if Clare looked like her, she would probably work harder too. The look Clare gave Amy was the same look she gave her shoe when she stepped in gum, and Amy knew it.

"Why do you even show up?" Amy asked. "Nobody wants you here."

Clare harrumphed. "Seems to me every guy in the building wants me here. Of course, you wouldn't know anything about that Awful Amy," Clare replied, laughing at her own cleverness.

Amy slammed her locker shut and whispered, "Bitch" under her breath as she stormed past.

Clare ignored the insult and opened her locker. In truth, she would forget about the whole encounter in a few minutes anyways. Amy was beneath her. Clare stripped out of her blouse and put on her pink "uniform," which was basically a set of scrubs with "Loved Ones" embroidered on the breast. Not the most fashionable clothing, but Clare still looked dynamite in it. She pulled her hair into a ponytail, slipped her purse into the locker, and headed back to the hallway.

She was on her way to the first of her three "friends," which was what the employees were supposed to call the residents, when she saw Nathan. Ugh, she thought, picking up her pace.

"Clare," he called.

Clare stopped, knowing she could not ignore the appalling man. Nathan was in his mid-forties, but looked more like 60. He was overweight, nearly bald, and had these beady little eyes that Clare always thought were looking everywhere but her face.

"A moment please," Nathan said as he closed the distance. "I've heard some troubling news."

That got Clare's attention, "Huh?"

"Clare, you know we pride ourselves on providing quality care here at Loved Ones, right?"

"Of course, Mr. Fredrickson."

"Good," he replied, his eyes darting towards her chest. "The thing is, I've had another complaint from one of our friends."

Shit, Clare thought. Stupid patients, what more did they want?

"This is your third complaint Clare," Nathan continued. "You know the rules, 4 strikes and you're out." Who the fuck says 4 strikes and you're out, Clare thought, I know the man probably never played a sport in his life, but come on...

The thought made Clare accidentally snickered, something she immediately knew to be a mistake.

"Is something funny?" Nathan remarked, stopping mid-spiel.

"N—no, sir," Clare stammered, "Sorry."

"Good. As I was saying, you have been reassigned."

"Reassigned?"

"Yes, you will be helping Mr. Grange, Mrs. Tyle, and Mr. Drough," Nathan ordered, staring directly at her face now. "Make sure you do a better job than you have been doing. I will be watching."

Clare gulped and nodded. She knew what that tone implied. She might actually get fired!

Nathan turned and marched away, mumbling to himself. Clare watched him go, her mind racing. Mr. Grange, okay, he should be pretty easy. The guy was practically a vegetable. Mrs. Tyle would be a bit harder, the old windbag liked to bitch about everything, but if Clare just nodded her head, she should be fine. Mr. Drough was a question mark. He was fairly new and Clare had not met him yet. Of course, if he was in Loved Ones, how bad could he be? I mean, we were not talking about geniuses here.

Clare breezed through the first part of her schedule, making sure to go above and beyond wherever possible. Silently, she bitched every minute, but the residents only saw her smiling face. Mrs. Tyle even thanked her for her help, calling her a "nice young lady." Clare was actually humming happily when she arrived at Mr. Drough's "apartment."

"Hiya, Mr. Drough," she said merrily after a quick knock, but came to a screeching halt halfway through the door.

In front of her was a younger man, probably 20 or 21, with his hand down his pants watching a woman running down the beach on TV. He turned towards her in horror and yanked his hand free.

"D—don'tcha knock?" he stammered, visibly flustered.

Clare backtracked, she knew that she was supposed to knock and wait for the resident to welcome her in, but she had been so caught up in how well the day was going. Also, nearly everyone in this place was too old for privacy to even matter.

"I'm so sorry! I—I just thought..."

"C—can you, p—please leave!"

Clare backed out of the room and yanked the door closed. Oh shit, she thought. She had just walked in on him wanking it and... shit, Nathan would fire her for sure if he found out." 

Clare felt like she could hear her own heart beating by that point. She couldn't get fired! The town of Triton was not exactly a bastion of job opportunities. If she lost this job, who knew where she would wind up? The fast food joint? Ugh, it would take her at least another 6 months to save enough to leave this hellhole! Clare had to fix this, now.

She rapped on the door, "Mr. Drough, may I come in?"

"C—come in." 

This time, she gingerly opened the door and peeked into the room. Mr. Drough's pants were pulled into place and his t-shirt was tucked in. He was staring at the floor, ashamed.

Fuck, she thought. This little shit is going to complain for sure.

"I truly am so sorry, Mr. Drough!"

The man continued to stare at the floor in silence.

"Please, please forgive me," Clare pleaded, and was relieved when he finally looked up at her. Encouraged, Clare tried to quickly blow past the little misunderstanding, "I'm Clare. It is so nice to meet you."

Mr. Drough looked at her outstretched hand for a moment before hesitantly accepting her offer. "I—I'm G—Greggory, but p—people call me Greg."

Clare exhaled. Whew, he seemed calmer. Maybe she could salvage this. He was still stumbling in his speech, but Clare recalled the nursing notes mentioning a speech impediment. She also vaguely recalled the notes rambling on about learning disabilities or something. Judging from what she had witnessed earlier, he was definitely fine physically. Gaining confidence that the worst was past, Clare's mind began to run through a mental checklist of what she needed to get accomplished. Her responsibility with Mr. Drough was to ensure that he maintained adequate hygiene, ate his food, and engaged in some exercise—which looking at his portly gut, he could use more of.

"Nice to meet you Greg. How are you feeling today?" Clare said, all business now.

"Y—you saw my p—private place!" Greg replied, his face beginning to turn red.

The accusation shocked Clare and dispelled her belief that everything was now fine. "No, no, I did not see anything, I promise."

The glare Greg leveled in her direction left little doubt as to his feelings. Clare had to get this under control!

"Greg, how about we just... forget about that and have some lunch?" Clare coaxed, calling forth her sweetest voice. "How does lunch sound?"

"No!" Greg shouted.

"Greg, please keep your voice down," Clare asked, starting to panic.

"Y—you saw my wie—," the accusation was silenced by Clare's hand clamping down on his mouth.

"Greg, I said I was sorry," Clare said, trying a more forceful tactic, "We have to move on. Will you stop yelling if I remove my hand from your mouth?"

The boy—since he was acting like one—still looked at her with accusatory eyes, but nodded.

"Good," Clare said, considering the matter finally settled. Sometimes, you just had to put your foot down. "Now, what would you like for lunch?"

"Nothing, I d—don't want nothing!"

Clare looked skyward. Why? Why did I have to get this patient?

"Greg, you have to eat. Look at the lunch menu! You can have a turkey sandwich or grilled cheese. Doesn't that sound yummy?"

"I don't w—want a s—stupid sandwich. I w—want you to leave," Greg stammered while making an overly-dramatic pouting gesture.

Again, Clare cursed her misfortune. Things were spiraling out of control and she was in full panic-mode now.

"Greg, please..." she started, but he was not even answering her now. He just sat there, arms folded and staring in the opposite direction.

Clare walked around the bed to get his attention and Greg immediately turned the other way. Oh come on! This is like talking to a fucking teenager...

Clare was still slinging mental insults when movement on the TV caught her attention. The same show was still playing, and now the busty lifeguard was helping some kid out of the ocean while a crowd cheered her on. Only on TV, she thought and moved to turn the damn television off when an idea hit her.

Her immediate response was, Hell no! Yet, after the initial shock, she began to think it might work... shit, would I really do that? As visions of her busting her ass in a fast food joint flashed through her head, she knew the answer. It's kind of... like modeling, she thought, trying to justify the insane idea. She took a deep breath. It was better than getting fired.

"Greg..." Clare said gently, still not getting a response. "Tell you what, I noticed you liked watching that woman on TV." Clare's heart was beating like crazy now. She took another deep breath and plunged forward. "Would you eat lunch if—if I showed you that?"

Greg finally looked at her, "Huh?"

Clare swallowed, her mouth suddenly devoid of moisture. "Here's the deal. If you eat your lunch and behave, I will show you my breasts," Clare responded quickly, before she lost her nerve.

The confused look slowly morphed into excitement as realization set in. Inevitably, Greg's gaze shifted downwards, towards the very things she had just promised to show him. Greg was now grinning from ear-to-ear. That grin left Clare second-guessing herself. Had she really just promised to show him her breasts if he behaved? 

Oh, I bet you're happy now, Clare thought. Ugh, just get through the day, give him a quick flash of your bra, and everybody wins.

Not surprisingly, Greg was suddenly a model patient. He requested a grilled cheese for lunch without any more fuss and blazed through his daily routine. His eyes were plastered to her chest the entire time... but, Clare figured at least this should earn her rave reviews when everything was said and done.

When Greg took care of his dental hygiene, his last "chore" of the day, he excitedly dashed from the bathroom and plopped onto the end of his bed.

"A—all done!" he exclaimed while Clare jotted down her final notes on his worksheet.

"Good job!" she responded, with more than a bit of sarcasm. How much congratulations does brushing your teeth really warrant? Deep down, Clare knew that it was not the brushing of his teeth that had her on edge, it was what it implied. Greg was done for the day and her promise was due.

"Greg, you were very good today," Clare said, testing for wiggle room.

"Thank y—you, Ms. Clare," Greg responded, staring intently at her chest.

Not much wiggle room. Clare sighed, might as well get it over with.

"Alright Greg, here is your reward for doing such a good job." Clare looked away, took hold of her uniform's shirt, and pulled it upwards. She felt a swish of air brush across the tops of her breasts as her bra was exposed. She heard Greg gasp right before her hands yanked her shirt back down. Whew, she thought. Not so bad. Unfortunately, when Clare turned back to her patient, it was not jubilation, but anger that filled his features.

"H—hey! Y—you p—promised."

Clare was stunned. She had promised to show him what he had seen on TV, which she did. What more did the little shit want?

"Greg, now you know—"

"No! Y—you promised," he shouted, cutting her off. Clare's hand clamped down on his mouth for the second time that day.

"Greg, I did what I promised," Clare tried again, hoping to reason with him. When Greg's head began to shake "no," Clare knew she was in a pickle.

"Shit," she whispered, and Greg's eyes widened at the language. Great, now I got to worry about him reporting that too, she thought, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

"Ymmmhmm," Greg mumbled behind her hand, his tongue flicking across her palm.

"Eww," she said, yanking her hand back.

"You p—promised," Greg continued the moment her hand was removed.

"Jesus, alright," Clare blurted, "I'll show you my freakin' boobs." Instantly regretting her momentary lapse in judgment.

Greg's demeanor shifted instantaneously, "Okay!"

Clare's eyes narrowed. She momentarily wondered if he had been playing her, but wrote the idea off immediately. She was not dealing with an Einstein here. That, of course, did not change what she had just agreed to...

"Okay, but just for a second," Clare said sternly, coming to terms with it all.

Greg offered no complaints as he scooted a bit closer.

So much for a quick flash of my bra, she thought and reached underneath the back of her top to unclasp her bra. Clare took hold of the bottom of her shirt for the second time, steeled her resolve, and pulled the garment skyward. This time, her bra went with the top and her youthful breasts bounced playfully into view. As if enjoying their newfound freedom, Clare felt nipples start to harden.

Greg's eyes seemed to illuminate as he took it all in. His mouth worked soundlessly, and Clare noticed his hand drop to his crotch. The sheer enjoyment etched on his face felt... empowering. Caught off guard, Clare did not immediately pull her shirt back down as she had planned. 

Time seemed to slow down. Clare, standing there with her shirt pulled up to her chin and breasts hanging free; and Greg, mesmerized by her boobs and rubbing himself excitedly. Clare came to her senses first and yanked her shirt back into place, mentally berating herself in the process. It was supposed to be a quick flash, what the hell was she doing? Greg, no longer ashamed apparently, continued to rub himself while grinning happily. Clare concluded that now would be a good time to get the fuck out of there, and bolted for the door. She did not even take the time to fix her bra. Had anyone been looking, they would have seen her chest bouncing erratically underneath her uniform as she dashed to the employee locker room.

Day 2: A Second Exposure

Clare arrived the following day, her mind still obsessing over the day before. How did she allow herself to end up in that situation? What had she been thinking to even suggest such a thing? Every question was valid, but she had no adequate answers. Every time she replayed the events in her head, she would ultimately justify everything with, it wasn't that bad... Clare was ashamed to admit it, but a teensy-tiny part of her had enjoyed it. 

Greg was not the first guy to see her topless, but he had been the most enthusiastic. Clare only dated desirable guys, guys she considered worth of her. With her past boyfriends, when it came to sex, she got the feeling that they felt entitled to it. The experience with Greg was nothing like that. He had truly been in awe of her. That kind of worship had felt... good. The scary part though, was that Greg was her resident now, which meant she would have to see him daily... 

Clare went through the motions during her first two appointments. Her thoughts never far from her upcoming appointment with Greg. Mrs. Tyle commented on her distance, but Clare brushed it off with an apology. When she exited Mrs. Tyle's room, a flood of contradictory emotions were rushing through her body. Mostly, she was nervous to see Greg again, but there was a tiny thread of excitement there as well—even if Clare did not want to admit it. As she skulked to Greg's door, Clare prayed that somehow, someway, he had forgotten about the day before.

"Mr. Drough?" Clare called, a bit sheepishly, as she knocked on his door. There was no way in Hell she was barging into his room today—or any other day, for that matter.

"C—Clare, is that you?" 

Clare cringed at the excitement in that voice. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and entered the apartment. Greg was sitting in nearly the exact place as yesterday, although cartoons were on the TV today. Why couldn't he have been watching cartoons yesterday, Clare lamented. Just act like everything is normal.

"Hiya, Greg. How are you today?"

"G—good," Greg stammered, "I p—promise to be g—good today."

Clare did not miss the way he stared at her chest as he made the promise. Even she could not delude herself into believing he had forgotten. She debated bringing it up and setting everything straight, but decided against it in the end. That would be a terribly awkward conversation, and perhaps ignoring it was the wiser strategy. Today will be different, she told herself.

"Great, I am glad to hear it."

They breezed through Greg's daily routine for a second day. Greg ate lunch and finished his exercises without any hiccups. Clare had to admit, it sure made things easy. Granted, his eyes were ogling her the entire time, but really, was it that different any other male? Greg headed into the bathroom to finish up his "chores," and Clare finalized her notes. Perfect, the day was almost over. When the faucet shut off and Greg dashed from the bathroom to his normal spot at the bed's edge, Clare paused. Whoa there buddy, not today.


Exposing the Caregiver Ch. 01



"Good job today Greg," she said, still foolishly believing she could simply avoid the issue. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow." Deep down, Clare had known it would not be that simple, but damned if she had not hoped it would.

"B—but, I was g—good," Greg whined as she started towards the door.

Clare rolled her eyes, turning back. "Yes you were, and thank you."

"Aren't y—you going to s—show me your breasts?"

Clare's eyes widened at his boldness. Well, that was to the point. "Greg, what happened yesterday was a one-time thing that can't happen again," Clare explained, "Do you understand?"

If he did understand, the look on his face told her it was not what he wanted to hear.

"B—but, I was good!" he said, a little more forcefully this time.

Shit, Clare thought. How do you explain to a horny, overgrown adolescent that you are not going to flash him every time he is "good?"

"Y—you promised!" Greg said, growing louder.

Clare needed to rein this in quickly, before someone heard. Ugh, things had been going so well...

"Greg, you know I can't—"

"No!" Greg shouted, cutting her off. Clare glanced at the doorway, more than a little nervous.

"Fine! I'll show 'em to you if you'll shut up!" Clare exclaimed in frustration. Again, she had let her emotions guide her before thinking things through. Fuck!

The near instantaneous transformation in Greg would have been comical if it was under any other circumstances. His shouts silenced and his face broke into a huge smile. For the second time in two days, Clare wondered if she had been played. Maybe this little shit was not as stupid as he looked. She was about to comment on it, but held back. What was she thinking? This was a 21 year-old living in a group home, she doubted he was the conspiratorial sort. No, her own foolishness had landed her here, nothing else.

By this point, Clare had come to terms with the situation. For his part, Greg had just sat there, nearly drooling in anticipation. Clare clenched her jaw and unclasp her bra for the second day. She already knew that a quick flash of her bra would not suffice. When she grabbed the bottom of her shirt and took a moment to collect herself, Greg started to bounce excitedly. Little shit, Clare thought and lifted her shirt.

Her youthful breasts bounded free and bounced into place. Greg inhaled at the sight and started to fidget as he gawked at her "girls."

"T—they're so p—pretty Ms. Clare."

Clare scowled at the little bastard. She was showing him her tits, but she was not about to engage him in conversation about them as well. Putting him from her mind, she frantically started to search for any possible way out of this predicament. Neither of them were going anywhere anytime soon. Judging from today, Greg was going to expect to see her breasts every time he was "good." Clare could not talk to Nathan so soon after reassignment as he would want to know why. Every option she could come up with ended with her fired and working fast food...

Though all this, Greg simply enjoyed the two magnificent globes on display before him. Clare failed to notice the way he was slowly inching forward. Greg was intoxicated by her breasts, and began to wonder what they felt like. Clare was too preoccupied to notice Greg's hands leave his side and hesitantly creep forward. Her preoccupation was shattered when one of his fingers finally reached her breast.

"Whoa!" she exclaimed, narrowly sidestepping his outstretched hands. "What are you doing!?!"

"They, I..." Greg fumbled. 

Clare's hands released her shirt and fell to her hips as she prepared to set this guy straight. Instead of falling back into place, her shirt got caught on her breasts, leaving most of her chest still exposed. Something that was lost on Clare in her fury.

"I never said you could touch! Don't you know it is rude to touch a woman without permission?"

Had Clare been in Greg's position, she would have realized that her stern instructions were somewhat comical coming from a woman whose breasts were still hanging free. For his part, Greg just sat there admiring how her boobies swayed as she talked.

"Greg! Are you even listening to me?" Clare asked after another tired, exasperated at the blank look on his face. 

She followed his gaze and realized why. Shit, she thought. No fucking wonder he is just staring at me. Clare yanked her shirt into place, ending the show once and for all.

"Aww," Greg whined and Clare almost punching him.

Aww? Aww! What the fuck does he have to "aww" about? The guy just got the show of his life, and I'll probably have to do it again tomorrow!

Clare wanted to say more, a lot more, but held it back. Yelling at him would get her nowhere, and if he got upset again... no, she needed to calm down. If she got fired, then this would have all been for nothing. Clare took a few deep breaths, trying to relax. What's done is done.

"Greg, good job today," she said, proud of her restraint, "I... I will see you tomorrow."

The thought of tomorrow gave her pause, but again, what is done is done. Two more months... two more months.

"Bye Ms. Clare. See you tomorrow!" Greg responded enthusiastically.

Clare had not doubt he was excited. The little shit would probably wank it tonight just thinking about it. The thought of him masturbating caused that teensy-tiny part of Clare to smile. It was a little flattering to have that effect on someone. Of course, her anger smothered that part immediately. 



Exposing the Caregiver Ch. 02



I want to extend a HUGE thank you to my editor! I am sure this was a tall order to edit. 

To the readers: I hope you enjoy the story. Please let me know what you think, feedback is really the driving force behind my writing these stories. Also, is it worth continuing? 

***** 

Day 3: The Bounce Factor 

When Clare entered "Loved Ones" the following day, her attitude had shifted dramatically. She walked with renewed determination. She was not going to stress over the past two days. She would just deal with it. It was only two months, and it did make the day easier when one-third of your patients did everything you asked. So she had to flash her tits for a few seconds, big deal. It would all be a distant memory when she got to tell Nathan, "I quit." After that, New York and the world. 

In fact, in spite of the circumstances, Clare was humming happily as she walked through those normally dreary automatic doors. She even gave Billy a smile as she walked by, which probably made the guy's entire day. She had just finished changing and was putting her hair in a ponytail when Amy entered the locker room. 

"Well, well, I hear congratulations is in order," Amy said, her voice dripping is disdain. 

"Congratulations?" she responded. What the fuck was this bitch talking about? 

"Yea, you finally got a pride review from one of the friends. Didn't you see the wall?" 

Honestly, Clare never bothered to look at the Pride Wall, it was not like her name was ever there anyways. She walked over to see what Amy was referring to. 

"Thank you Ms. Clare! You are the best!" was written on a pink slip of paper and was signed Greg—even though the reviews were supposed to be anonymous. Clare could not help but smile, it was kind of sweet. 

"Who knew you had a heart?" Amy chided as she closed her locker and strode out of the locker room. 

"Who knew you had a heart," Clare mocked in her most juvenile voice at the retreating figure, "Bitch." 

Not allowing the confrontation to ruin her mood, she read the note again. Her first pride review. Even though she often told herself that she did not care what these people thought, she had to admit that reading that piece of paper made her feel good. She was once again humming to herself as she headed to Mr. Grange's room. 

Clare flew through her first two appointments so quickly that she actually had a few minutes to rest in the break room—something that never happened. She took the moment to calm herself and reiterate that the Greg situation was "no big deal." Her confidence rejuvenated, Clare strode towards her third and final appointment. 

"Greg?" she called and opened it when she heard his muffled reply. 

"H—hi Ms. Clare!" 

"Hiya Greg," Clare said. 

His exuberant smile was contagious and a moment later she was smiling as well. No big deal, she repeated in her head. 

"How are you today?" 

"G—great!" he exclaimed, "I'm going to be g—good today!" 

Clare sighed, knowing full well what that implied, but remained upbeat. A cooperative resident is worth it, she thought, once again justifying it all to herself. 

"Great, good to hear it. Why don't we get started?" 

True to his word, Greg followed every instruction without question. The appointment went flawlessly, and before she knew it, Greg had finished his chores and was expectantly waiting at the edge of the bed. 

Showtime, she thought. Unlike the prior two days, Clare did not even try to wiggle out of flashing him. She had already resigned herself to this ordeal, and silently reached under her shirt to unclasp her bra. Greg's eyes shined when she pulled her shirt up and showed him her breasts for the third time in three days. She was forced to admit that it did get easier each time, and that teensy-tiny part of her reveled in look of pure adulation on his face. 

Greg sat, mouth agape, fascinated by the youthful breasts standing proudly before him. Clare watched him, flattered by his unbridled enthusiasm. That teensy-tiny part started to grow bolder and whispered mischievously to, "Give him a show." The corners of her mouth crept upwards as she thought about the pride review Greg wrote her. What would it hurt, she thought playfully. 

Clare had dealt with boys ogling her body for years. By the time she had finished puberty, they had been practically lining up to try and get her to "fool around." She was not ignorant to the juvenile things that guys liked—especially when it came to breasts. Clare looked at the near reverence apparent in Greg's features and smirked. Just wait till he sees this, she thought with a giggle. 

Her giggle must have gotten his attention as Greg's eyes broke free of her chest and looked at her face questioningly. Clare simply smiled, rose up to her tippy-toes, and gave him a wink before dropping quickly back to her heels. The action caused her boobs to bounce wildly up-and-down and Greg's eyes ratcheted even wider. He squealed in delight. Clare noticed the bulge between his legs also become more animated. It was clear that he liked what he saw. 

Clare spent the next minute or so bouncing her tits for Greg's amusement and laughing alongside him. She was putting on quite the show for him and the utter elation on his face was intoxicating. It did occur to Clare at one point that doing this might be opening Pandora's Box even further, but she dismissed the concern. Greg's amusement was infectious and the way her bouncing breasts captivated him sent tingles down her spine. That she could have this effect on another human being was electrifying. 

Eventually, the moment faded and Clare's emotions gave way to reason. She decided it was past time to end the show. She stopped bounding up-and-down and pulled her shirt back into place, ignoring the audible complaints from her spectator. The true magnitude of what she had just done set in and her cheeks darkened. Oddly enough, she did not really regret it. 

Clare gave Greg her best smile and said, "See ya tomorrow." 

"I—I can't wait!" 

Oh, of that she was certain. Yet, as she left Greg's room, Clare still took heart in the belief that things could definitely be worse. 

Day 4: The Bra Experiment 

The spring in Clare's step was still there when she entered Loved Ones the following day. If anything, it was somehow stronger. Clare could not put a finger on it, but somehow, improving someone's life made her feel wonderful. Sure, she was doing it by flashing a resident, but so what? It was just a little harmless fun. 

"Hi Clare!" Billy said, as always, when she walked in the door. 

This time, Clare did more than just smile, she actually stopped at the desk. 

"Hi Billy, how are you today?" 

Billy's mouth sat open for a second, surprised and confused by the unexpected conversation. "Uh, fine, you look nice." 

"Thanks," Clare said, giving him a wink. 

Clare was realizing that perhaps a little flirting, even with people like Billy, could go a long way. Sure, Billy was still a loser, but there was nothing wrong with a little harmless fun. Heck, that wink would probably make him happy for the week. A thought that only enhanced Clare's jubilant attitude. 

Clare practically skipped into the locker room to begin her daily routine. She was in the process of pulling her uniform over her head when a naughty smile found its way onto her face. No way! The rational part of her scolded, but that teensy-tiny part of her had grown stronger in the past few days. Somehow, it overpowered Clare's rational side. She giggled as she unhooked her bra and threw it in the locker beside her other clothes. She grinned devilishly and tugged uniform's top into place. On the way out, she stopped to admire herself in a nearby mirror. There was no doubt that anyone paying attention would quickly realize that her breasts were roaming free under the thin fabric. Clare's cheeks turned a deep red and she almost turned back to her locker. In the end, that impish voice won out. Clare giggled, a bit nervously this time, and headed to her first appointment. 

There was nothing surprising about finding Mr. Grange lying in his bed, barely responsive. Mr. Grange was an elderly gentleman who, according to his chart, was just fine physically. He understood what was going on, but had fallen into a depressed, moody state ever since he was admitted. He had a reputation for being a model resident, but most of the caregivers did not want to deal with him because it was a downer. The activities staff had written him off years ago. 

"Hey, Mr. Grange," she said cheerily. 

"Mmhrmm," he mumbled with far less enthusiasm. 

Clare began to tidy the room up, giving Mr. Grange time to awaken from his afternoon nap. As she moved about the room, she could feel her breasts swaying underneath her uniform. It felt like they were practically jumping out of her uniform! She was a little thankful that Mr. Grange was not the active type. Given what she knew about him, she doubted he would even notice her... ahem, lack of attire. Even if that realization disappointed her mischievous side. 

What the hell was happening to me? Clare had no easy answer and instead, pushed her jumbled thoughts aside in order to focus on the task at hand. She grabbed his worksheet and moved to his bedside. 

"What would you like for lunch today? We have a turkey sandwich or sloppy joes." 

"Turkey," he said gruffly. 

"Turkey it is," Clare responded and noticed his bed sheets were completely askew. 

Without giving it a second thought, Clare leaned forward to fix the sheets. Leaning across the bed caused Clare's top to fall away from her body, opening the top of her uniform and giving Mr. Grange an almost unimpeded view of her breasts swinging underneath. While the old man did not pay much attention to his care staff, there was no way any man would have missed that! Clare continued to tug at the sheets, oblivious to the wide-eyed stare her patient was now giving her. When she stood back up, satisfied that the sheets were in order, the old man's eyes followed her breasts like a lost puppy. 

"There, much better," Clare said and turned away to prepare his exercises. 

Mr. Grange was now wide awake and sitting up. Had Clare been paying any attention, it would have been impossible not to notice the stark change in his behavior; or the way he immediately scrunched up the sheets she had just fixed. Instead, Clare went about her daily routine and retrieved the bungee cords that were used to work out Mr. Grange's arms. She was just starting to attach the bungee cords to his bed post when she noticed the sheets were out of order again. 

"Oh Mr. Grange, you messed up your sheets again," she chided. 

His only response was a gulp. At that moment, nobody would have labeled Clare the most observant person in the world. Still oblivious to everything happening, Clare attached the bungee cords and moved to fix the bed sheets a second time. She leaned across the bed to tug the wrinkled sheets into place, and the old guy was once again privy to the sight of her youthful, animated tits. The sight revitalized his old bones and for the first time in years, an excited shiver rushed through his body. The old man licked his lips, perhaps this damned group home was not so bad after all! 

After fixing his sheets, Clare climbed back to her feet, never once suspecting that she was giving the old guy quite a show. Clare made her way behind the bed and proceeded to pull the bungee cord out so that Mr. Grange could begin his exercises. The old man stunned her by grabbing the cord with surprising vitality. 

"Good job Mr. Grange!" Clare exclaimed. 

In the few days she had worked with him, she had already grown accustomed to his lack of effort. Today, he was moving with renewed determination and completed twice the repetitions as normal before falling back to his bed, exhausted. 

"Wow! That was great," Clare said with a smile. 

She excitedly noted the improvement on his worksheet. Who would believe it? Clare actually had a patient of hers improving! Perhaps it was a good thing that she did not know the true reason why. The doorbell sounding brought Clare back to the task at hand and she retrieved Mr. Grange's lunch from the attendant. She served Mr. Grange his lunch and completed his worksheet. 

"Well, I think that's it Mr. Grange," she said finally. "Great job today!" 

"Ahem, thank you," he said after a cough. "Would you mind, uhm, fixing my bed sheets before you leave?" 

Clare looked across the bed and saw the sheets had crumpled up again. Cheap ass sheets, she thought as she crossed back to his bedside. Clare leaned across his bed, putting herself on display for a third time. This time the sheets had somehow gotten stuck between the mattress and frame which meant she really tug to get them free. Her forceful pulling sent her tits to bouncing wildly and Mr. Grange almost spit up his food at the sight! Had he just seen a nipple? Oh, they looked like such beautiful pink nipples. 

When the caught sheet finally broke free, Clare pulled it into place and smoothed the fabric. She stood up, failing to register the silly grin on the old man's face. In fact, it was not until after she left the room that she even remembered she was braless. Clare has just been so caught up in her daily routine. On almost any other day, Clare probably would have put two-and-two together, but with everything that had happened in the last few days, she had a lot on her mind. 

As such, Clare made her way to Mrs. Tyle's room without giving Mr. Grange a second thought. Her second appointment went just as smoothly as the first, although with far less "sheet fixing." There was little doubt that Mrs. Tyle liked her, which left her in a great mood as she approached Greg's door. Now, she was acutely aware of the way her breasts were moving. In fact, Clare had come very close to stopping at the locker room on the way. But, she had come this far and that new, devilish side of her had pushed her onwards. If she had realized the show she had already given Mr. Grange, who knows how things would have turned out... 

Clare hesitated for just a moment before knocking, nervous. When she finally knocked and heard Greg's reply, she knew it was too late to back down. Greg was in his usual spot, but today his TV turned off. There was no doubt he had been waiting for her. Clare grinned, I guess the TV girls are not as exciting as me. 

"Hiya Greg." 

"Hi!" Greg responded, his eyes dancing between her face and chest. 

Clare stood there a moment, almost afraid to move and set her breasts in motion. Honestly, she was not sure if Greg could even deduce that she was braless. Armed with that idea, she forced herself to put one foot forward and started across the room, feeling her breasts immediately spring into action. The way Greg's eyes widened told her all she needed to know. He knew exactly what was going on. Her cheeks went beet red, she would have to stop underestimating him. 

The responsible side of Clare was screaming at this point for her to excuse herself and get this craziness under control—to stop exposing herself to a chubby, 21 year-old resident! 

Clare toned the voice out and asked, "Are you going to be good today?" 

"Y—yes!" he stammered, his eyes bewitched by the motion beneath her uniform. 

Unlike with Mr. Grange, Clare was well aware of the impact her lack of attire was having on Greg. She could not stop blushing as she went about her daily assignments. It was both embarrassing and thrilling, and at times Clare would add a little extra spring in her step just to hear him gasp. So much for just a quick flash, she thought. Four days in and she was parading around braless. Once again, her rational side started ranting. This time it gained some traction, and she started to think that perhaps this was taking things too far. What's done is done, she decided. She would finish up today and avoid making this mistake in the future. 

Greg scarfed down his lunch and rocked through his exercises. If she thought he was enthusiastic before, her current attire pushed him to even greater heights. Clare giggled as she thought, just imagine if I did this topless. Immediately questioning why on Earth she would even contemplate such a thing? 

When Greg finished his chores and flew to his "spot" on the edge of the bed, Clare found that all of her prior hesitation had vanished. She smiled at his eager gaze and slid her uniform top over her head, removing it completely so that she was fully topless. 

The rush that shot through her body caused her to shudder. Greg now had a full, unrestricted view of her chest and his mouth dropped. The bulge in his pants which had been present through the entire appointment seemed to grow bigger. 

It surprised Clare to see his eyes leave her chest, but quickly realized why when he said, "B—bounce?" 

Clare shook her head, he was definitely a guy. His foolish grin became enormous as she complied and started to jiggle her tits for his enjoyment. Four days ago, Clare would have been appalled to see herself standing there amusing her patient with her breasts. Yet, here she was, doing just that. And she knew that she would be doing it all over again tomorrow. The crazy thing was that it did not bother her. 

A finger coming into contact with the soft flesh of her bosom startled Clare back to reality. Greg was once again trying to touch her breasts! Had she not made herself clear yesterday? Clare stepped back and planted her hands on her hips. 

"Greg, what did I tell you about touching?" she scolded. 

"S—sorry," he replied abashedly. 

That was enough of a show for one day. Clare moved to retrieve her uniform. 

"W—wait," Greg stammered, "More p—please?" 

Clare stopped and gave him an exasperated look. "Greg, I'm not going to dance around all night." 

"I—I know, but a little m—more please?" 

Clare stared at him for a moment, her rational side screaming bloody murder. That look on his face... Oh what the hell, she thought. Feeling that teensy-tiny, roguish side of her growing stronger. 

"Okay, but just a little longer." 

Clare put her top back on the nearby table and turned so that Greg could admire her once more. She recognized the telltale look in his eyes and sighed, beginning to bounce her tits for him once more. The pure delight on his face quickly overcame her exasperation. Yet, unbelievably, no more than a minute later, Clare saw his hands reaching for her again. Clare shielded her breasts with one arm and pushed the hand away. 

"No touching," she said, "Just looking." 

Greg looked at her pleadingly, "P—please?" 

Clare opened her mouth to scold him and threaten to stop doing this all together if he tried to touch her again, but nothing came out. It was not rational. In fact, looking back, Clare could not have offered an explanation as to why she did not scold him. Somewhere, from the back of her mind, a wild thought raced forward. Why not? So he touches a boob, who cares? This is the closest the poor guy will ever get to real breasts. 

The thought left her stupefied. Was she seriously considering letting him touch? That had to be taking it too far, right? That damn mischievous side, that teensy-tiny part of her that had caused so much trouble these past few days responded, "What harm would it cause? Surely, it would be easier than jumping around a few minutes every day." 

Clare snorted, she actually was considering it. Really considering it. Jesus, just let the guy have a little fun, she thought and forced her arm away from her chest. 

The moment was surreal, and it was almost like watching someone else open their mouth and say, "Okay, but just for a little bit." 




Exposing the Caregiver Ch. 02



The joy that washed over Greg's face was undeniable. Clare winced when his hands reached her breasts, but swallowed her doubts and allowed them to explore the soft flesh. Within moments, Greg's hands were latched onto her tits and Clare watched silently as they energetically massaged her "girls." She had never experienced anything remotely like this. There was a level of innocence in his exploration, something that now that she had experienced it, realized had been absent from her prior partners. Greg was almost bursting with pleasure as he studied the "presents" before him. 

The kneading began to slow and Clare realized Greg's focus had shifted to her nipples, which were now prominent. At first, he lightly brushed a finger across the sensitive nub. Clare gave a little gasp at the resulting shiver. That felt... good? Not sure if it was curiosity or her reaction that instigated it, but Greg's finger immediately slid back across her nipple, sending another shiver through her body. Clare tried to rein her emotions in. This was crazy. Yet, at no point did Clare try to stop him. She instead watched silently as Greg toyed with her nipples, growing bolder with each passing second. Clare even allowed him to pinch the sensitive flesh a few times, emitting a tiny squeak each time he did. He seemed to love that. 

By this point, Greg was only fondling her with one hand, while his other hand rubbed vigorously at his crotch. She could hear her reasonable side still screaming, trying with all its' might to bring her back to her senses. That rational part of her unequivocally demanded that she put her clothes back on and get the fuck out of there! But, the sensations running through her body said different. This was new... it was somehow strangely erotic. Clare could not deny that a completely different part of her did not want this to stop. That feeling was something she had never experienced prior. It all left her completely unsure of what to do next. For his part, Greg was surely not complaining about her indecision. 

Clare's eyes kept darting to Greg's hand rubbing his crotch. Why? Why did she keep looking at it? She silently asked the questions, afraid she might know the answer. She just could not believe it. Greg was a resident, a 21 year-old resident who would be living in a group home the rest of his life. He was nothing like the guys she dated—the guys who were worthy of her. How could she even consider such a thing? Clare was almost frightened when that mischievous side asked, "Why not?" The even crazier part was that she did not offer a clear cut answer. 

"Gre..." she started and had to swallow to moisten her now dry throat, "Take off your pants." 

The hand on her breast stopped and Greg looked at her as if he has misunderstood. 

The rational voice in her head surged forward and told her to, shut up and pretend he had just been hearing things. Who knows what would have happened if Clare had listened to that voice. Instead, she heard herself repeat the instruction, "Take off your pants." 

Clare assumed Greg was a virgin, and firmly believed that she was the first woman he had ever seen topless, but the speed at which he removed his pants indicated that he knew what those instructions implied. Heck, Clare was probably more confused at that point than he was. 

Clare watched, more than a little unsure, as his pants fell down to his ankles. Greg looked at her for a moment, and then dropped his underwear as well. Clare gaped as his pecker sprang free. Her first thought was, Not bad. His penis was not extremely big, but it was not small either. Hell, it was probably bigger than most of the "desirable guys" she had been with. That unexpected thought brought a little levity to the situation. Of course, now that it was out, what in the hell was she going to do with it? 

Clare was backtracking at this point, the sight of his pecker meant things had gone way further than she had intended. She also knew that she could not just exit the room at this point. She had to do something with it. She scolded her own stupidity for allowing this to happen, and reluctantly sat down on the bed beside Greg. If she had thought prancing around topless and bouncing her titties for him was opening Pandora's Box, this was going to rip the damn thing apart. 

Clare guided his hand back to her breast before reaching for the twitching member. Greg started to rub her tit, but she saw that his attention was fixated on her hand on his penis. Clare exhaled, it was now or never. She started to slide her hand down the shaft, but the skin stuck to her palm. This would be impossible without lubrication. Had Clare given it a moment of thought, she would have just spit on her hand and continued, but her heart was racing and her mind was a jumble of emotions. In addition, Clare was not exactly experienced in giving handjobs. Her sexual encounters consisted of the guy doing all the work. So Clare did the first thing that came to mind and Greg watched in a daze as this gorgeous woman leaned forward to take his penis in her mouth. Slipping the penis' head between her lips, Clare started to work her tongue across the surface, aiming to lather it up with saliva. 

"Unnnh," she heard him grunt with excitement. 

Clare had planned on making one quick repetition down the shaft to get it fully lubricated so that she could finish him off with her hand. The flaw in that plan was that her earlier assumption regarding Greg's virginity was spot on, and the sensations Clare's mouth was creating were far too much for him to bear. 

"Aaannhh." 

Clare registered the deep moan as she took him fully into her mouth, but did not realize what it implied until she felt his muscles instinctively clench. Her eyes widened in surprise as Greg unconsciously thrust his hips forward and pushed even deeper into her mouth. Clare could do nothing but brace for what she knew would follow. When the first wave of semen splashed against the back of her throat, Clare coughed, but forced it down. Water flooded her eyes as she did her best to swallow the streams that followed. It seemed never-ending! Greg must have pumped 4 or 5 more loads into her mouth, experiencing his first true ejaculation. 

Eventually, the thrusts slowed and she felt his penis soften. Clare easily swallowed the final few secretions and extricated herself from the exhausted member. As she pulled away, reality sank in. That... that just happened. She had just let a resident cum in her mouth. All she had meant to do was lubricate the damn thing! 

They both sat in silence, working to comprehend what had just occurred. For Clare, it was the realization that things had gone way beyond a simple flash of her breasts. She had given the guy a blowjob for God's sake! For Greg, it the just the simple, amazing fact that he had just gotten a blowjob! When Clare finally turned towards him and saw the pure adulation on Greg's face, she knew this was bad. 

"G—Greg," she started, her speech stumbling now, "That, I—we can't do that again." There was no confusing the disappointment that spread across his face. "Do you understand?" she continued, she needed to be sure he understood. 

Even though every fiber of her being was screaming doubt, she convinced herself that the nod that followed confirmed he did understand, and that this would definitely one-time thing. Clare was still dazed as she rose from the bed and replaced her top. The clock on the wall read 5:16. Had that really all happened in less than 15 minutes? It seemed like an eternity. 

"Alright," Clare said, starting to gain a little comfort now that she was clothed, "Remember, just this one time." 

Greg nodded again. 

"Oh, and Greg, this is just between us, okay? You can't tell anyone." 

Greg nodded a third time. Clare prayed he understood. 

"Well, see you tomorrow," she said awkwardly, not really sure how you say good-bye after what just happened. 

Greg smiled, "Bye, Ms. Clare" 

Clare would dwell on the twinkle in his eye for the remainder of the night. Wondering what had she had gotten herself into? Somehow though, by the time Clare exited the building, she had already began to justify the entire ordeal. Yes, it was extreme. Yes, she had just basically given Greg a blowjob, but it was just the one time. Hell, it was probably the only time he would ever get anything like that. So she gave the guy a charity BJ, was that really so bad? The rational part of her screamed, yes! For the love of God, yes! And yet, that other side, the side that was no longer so teensy-tiny, responded, Of course not.



Exposing the Caregiver Ch. 03



I want to extend a HUGE thank you to my editor! I am sure this was a tall order to edit. 

To the readers: I hope you enjoy the story. Please let me know what you think, feedback is really the driving force behind my writing these stories. Also, is it worth continuing? 

***** 

Day 5: Giving a Bath and Showing it all 

In her usual fashion, by the time Clare arrived the next day, she had regained much of her confidence. That is not to say that she still did not have her doubts about what had transpired the day before. Flashing the guy was one thing, but going down on him? What the fuck had she been thinking? Yet, she had found some solace in the fact that nothing like that would happen again. Even if, however she tried to deny it, some crazy part of her had found it exhilarating. That was the part of her that remembered Greg's innocence, remember the pure delight radiating from him during it all. That part remembered how she had felt like a Goddess, in complete control of another's enjoyment. Clare had spent a long time looking in the mirror this morning, trying to figure out who exactly who was staring back at her. 

Clare remained lost in thought as she entered the facility and headed to the locker room. She did not even register Billy's greeting. When she entered the locker room and passed the Pride Wall, two new pink slips caught her attention. She stopped to read them. The first read, "Clare is a great caregiver!" and the second, "Clare is amazing!" this one signed Greg. Clare smiled, she thought she recognized the first as Mr. Grange's handwriting, which was shocking. That Debby-downer did not give anyone good reviews. Although, he sure had perked up yesterday, something Clare had still not given much thought to. 

The pride reviews surprisingly alleviated her stress. Things had definitely gotten pretty wonky recently, but the glowing reviews somehow made it seem better. She was making a difference for the first time in her life. Clare crossed the room to her locker, refreshed. As she put on her uniform, she giggled at the thought of removing her bra. While there was no way she was going down that path again today, the fact that she could joke about it was a relief. She would rein things in and bring a bit of normalcy back into her life. Clare was once again cheery when she ran into Nathan on her way to Mr. Grange's room. 

"Clare, hold up a second," he called as he waddled toward her. 

Clare stopped, what could he want now. The worst case scenario sprang into her head. Had Greg reported her? 

As Nathan approached, she could hear him wheezing a bit. Jesus, she thought, the guy can barely walk through the halls. He would probably be a resident here before long. 

"I just wanted to say great job!" Nathan beamed, catching her off guard. "Three pride reviews in a week, extraordinary." 

Clare found herself responding in kind. She had never been praised by her boss before. 

"Keep it up and you might make employee of the month," Nathan continued. 

"Thank you," Clare responded, more than a bit flustered. 

"Well, back to work. I am sure Mr. Grange is waiting." 

Clare watched her boss waddle away and shook her head. What a crazy few days! Clare shook her head and continued to Mr. Grange's apartment. 

The scene before her was a stark contrast to every day before. Mr. Grange was wide awake and quite animated. He almost seemed as if he had been waiting for her to arrive. Clare definitely noticed this change, but with so much on her mind, she barely gave it a second thought. In her rush to get things back to normal, Clare failed to notice how the old man's eyes immediately locked on her chest and the sigh which followed when he realized that she was wearing a bra. Clare had awoken something in him yesterday, and the twinkle in his eye suggested he was not about to let it go easily. 

"Hi Mr. Grange," Clare said, smiling at the old man, "How are you today." 

"I'm fine young lady, how about yourself?" 

"Great," Clare responded. "I saw someone gave me a pride review," she chided, hands on her hips. 

The little bit of color that rose to the old man's cheeks betrayed him. It was cute. Mr. Grange "ahem'ed" as if to clear his throat and turned away in embarrassment. 

"Well, what should we do today?" Clare asked rhetorically, planning on simply following the set routine. 

"Uhm, would you mind helping an old man with a bath?" Mr. Grange responded, catching Clare completely off guard. 

She stood there, trying to process the request. Residents often talked back or refused to do something on their daily worksheet, but no one had ever asked her to completely deviate from the routine. Clare was not even sure if she was allowed to give a resident a bath. 

"I... uh," Clare stumbled. 

"Sorry to ask," Mr. Grange pressed, "But, the nurse this morning was busy and didn't get around to it." 

Clare's heart quickened and she began to worry. What did she know about giving a resident a bath? Although... really, how hard could it be? 

"The nurse said you could probably take care of it," Mr. Grange said, pressing even harder. 

Well, if the nurse told him to ask, I guess it would be okay, Clare thought. "Sure, I guess we can take care of that," Clare finally responded, convinced that the request was not that unordinary. She did not notice the devious twinkle that appeared in the old man's eyes or the sly smirk that followed. 

Clare grabbed the menu and asked, "Would you like to eat lunch first?" 

"No," Mr. Grange replied abruptly, startling Clare, but his voice immediately softened, "I mean, can we do the bath first?" 

"Sure, why not?" she replied, once again missing the warning signs. Clare just assumed the broad smile that spread over his face was his satisfaction at the thought of getting clean. She knew she would be happy to get a bath if she needed one. 

Clare retrieved Mr. Grange's walker and proceeded to help him off the bed. She allowed him to drape his arm over her shoulder as he slid to the floor, ignoring how his hand "accidentally" brushed across her breast a few times in the process. Helping an elderly man to the bathroom was not part of her normal routine and she figured it was normal. When the old man was finally on his feet and had gained his footing, Clare was shocked at how quickly he shuffled across the room. He seemed to be in quite a hurry. Clare shrugged, the guy must really want a bath. 

Clare followed him into the bathroom and stopped. What was she supposed to do now? Did he disrobe himself? Should she turn around? Clare honestly had no idea, and she was too embarrassed to ask. Sheepishly, she stood there, hoping Mr. Grange would make the first move and not notice her ignorance. 

Mr. Grange was a wily, old coot and he noticed. He had been in this blasted group home for a long time and he knew the nurses gave baths, not caregivers. The fact that this little lass did not even know that bode well for him. Visions of those wonderful tits were already dancing in his head. 

"A little help, please," he chided, and Clare sprang forward. 

Clare exhaled with relief, she was supposed to help him. Easy-peasy. Clare guided his robe free and then untied the gown underneath. Mr. Grange shrugged the loose gown to the ground and Clare watched it fall to the floor, revealing his nudity. She could not help but stare at his nakedness—even though she felt she should look away. Mr. Grange was quite thin and wrinkles adorned nearly every part of his body. Clare's gaze was inevitably drawn to Mr. Grange's manhood, which hung limply between the sticks he called legs—a mere remnant of past glory. 

"You gonna stare all day or help me into the tub?" Mr. Grange asked, breaking the awkward moment. 

Clare's face went beet red and she scolded herself. Really? Staring at an old man's wiener? Get ahold of yourself! Clare took Mr. Grange's outstretched arm and gave him the support he needed to step over the tub's edge. She then carefully lowered him into a sitting position. That done, she turned the faucet on, making sure to test it for warmth. Mr. Grange just watched the whole process with a big smile. Anyone could see how nervous the lass was, she had no clue what she was supposed to be doing. Oh, and how she had stared at him when he disrobed! Mr. Grange's old mind was spinning with possibilities. He had no doubt that today's bath would be a wonderful blast from the past. It had been a long time since he had seen a naked woman, and even then, he was not sure he had ever seen one as pretty as this lass. 

When Clare was satisfied with the water's temperature, she turned back to Mr. Grange. Shit, she thought, am I supposed to wash him or does he do that himself? 

"The scrubber is right there," Mr. Grange said, answering her question before she could even ask it. 

Clare was thankful for the guidance and picked up the soft sponge. She lathered the sponge with soap and hesitated, unsure of whether Mr. Grange had intended for her to hand him the sponge or use it herself. Clare watched to see if Mr. Grange made any effort to reach for the sponge. When he didn't, she concluded that she was supposed to use it. Clare smiled, taking a bit of pride in what she believed had been a clever way of solving that dilemma. 

"Uhm, Clare?" Mr. Grange asked as Clare started to spread soap over his back. 

"Yes, Mr. Grange?" she responded, worried that she made a mistake. 

"Would you mind changing the faucet to the sprayer? I like the feel of the water on me?" 

Clare exhaled in relief, no mistake. "Sure." 

She moved back to the faucet and pulled the pin to send the water out of the shower sprayer. The sprayer head sat about a foot above the faucet and worked as a sit-down shower for the elderly. Clare understood why he would rather it be that way, she liked showers better as well. It was not until she moved back to Mr. Grange's side and retrieved the sponge that she realized her predicament. 

"Uh, Mr. Grange?" she asked hesitantly, hoping she was not asking a foolish question, "I'm not sure I can wash you with the sprayer on." 

Mr. Grange turned to her, "Why not?" 

With the shower sprayer splashing against him and the tub, water was already hitting her. If she tried to scrub him with it on, she would get soaked. 

"Well, with it spraying like that, my clothes... they will get soaked..." she responded, trailing off a bit and feeling stupid. She was sure there was probably an obvious solution that she was missing. The nurses obviously did this all the time. 

"The other nurses just take off their tops when they do it," Mr. Grange replied in a voice that made it sound as if giving a sponge bath topless was the most normal thing in the world. 

His reply left her stunned. Really? The nurses did this topless? She guessed it was possible. Clare had no clue what the nurses did, or what bathing an elderly man entailed. She did know that the few nurses she talked to did not really like doing it. If they had to do it topless, she could see why. 

"What's the problem lass?" 

"Nothing," she replied sheepishly, trying to hide what see perceived to be her own incompetence. 

Clare set the sponge down and hesitantly removed the top of her uniform. She was keenly aware of the old man's eyes locked on her the entire time. I guess it is just one of the few perks to getting a sponge bath, she thought. If so, she had no clue why Mr. Grange was so grumpy all the time. He had topless nurses bathing him 2-3 times a week! 

Mr. Grange knew there was no way he was hiding his enthusiasm as he watched the young lass remove her top. He just hoped it did not scare her away. She was wearing a red bra lined with a bit of lace at the top. It was the kind of thing women wore nowadays, and he liked it. The passion he felt stirring within him had been absent for so long... and when Clare reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, he felt a twitch in his groin that he had believed to be gone forever. 

Clare's red bra loosened as the first clasp was undone and fell away with the second. When her supple breasts fell free, Mr. Grange inhaled. What a sight they were! It had been a bit of pink nipple he had glimpsed the day before, and now those glorious beauties were on full display. Her pert little nubs were already starting to harden, almost begging to be suckled. This bath would be one he took with him to the grave. 

Clare blushed under the old man's scrutiny. For someone who must see breasts all the time, he sure seemed to be enjoying himself. Of course, her "girls" were something special. It should not be that surprising that they could get even an old man excited. The reality that she had now exposed herself to two residents in one week never truly occurred to her. If she had stopped to consider that for a moment, she probably would have been appalled at how quickly she was removing her clothes at this point. 

None of that occurred to Clare. Instead, her thoughts shifted to the task at hand, cleaning Mr. Grange. She retrieved the sponge and started scrubbing his back once more, doing her best to not focus on how often her breasts bundled into him throughout the process—failing to notice how the old man kept shifting to make sure it happened. When Clare finally finished with his back, she exhaled with satisfaction. "One side done," she thought. 

Clare immediately moved on to his chest and arms. By this point, her breasts had bumped into Mr. Grange so many times that she ignored it. Plus, it was not like he was complaining, not like many guys would be... Anyways, the water constantly hitting her was far more annoying. As Clare worked, she realized the real challenge was trying to hold him up while she worked. Frustrated by the lack of progress, she tried a different tactic. 

"Mr. Grange, why don't you put your arm around me to support yourself," Clare suggested. 

She gasped when she felt his hand slide around her back and latch onto her right breast. She had meant for him to use her shoulder, not this... 

When his hand began to fondle the tit, she was caught in a moment of indecision. Should she remove his hand? She was not sure. The old guy was getting sponged down by a young, topless woman, what had she expected? She figured the nurses probably had to deal with this all the time. Even though that thought made her glad she was just a caregiver, she concluded that if the nurses could deal with this daily, she could do it once. Clare steeled her nerves and set about finishing up Mr. Grange's chest area. 

For Mr. Grange, this was like being born again. The firm breast in his hand was magnificent. Not even a hint of sag. He had forgotten how magical a great set of tits could feel. And those dandy little nipples, simply amazing. With that thought, Mr. Grange took the hard nub between his thumb and forefinger and gave it a squeeze. He heard a tiny squeal escape the young lass' lips. Simply wonderful, he thought. As he continued to tweak that glorious nipple, Mr. Grange began to wonder just how far he could push this. God knew he would probably never get another opportunity. 

The pinch of her nipple sent Clare into high gear. She scrubbed the remainder of Mr. Grange's chest in short order. When she finally leaned back and pried the old man's hand from her breast, she exhaled with relief. Thank goodness that is done, she thought, watching the shower spray rinse away the suds. That was the back and chest, which meant she only needed to do his legs and midsection. She doubted his legs would pose much of an issue, but how on Earth was she supposed to clean his midsection? Did the nurses wash his penis too? THAT was a question she definitely did not want to ask. Clare decided to cross that bridge when she got there. 

Clare clenched her jaw, picked up the sponge, and was about to start on his legs when she noticed him sway a bit. She saw no way to support him and wash his legs, not that she was too keen on having him wrap his arm around her again anyways. She wanted to smack herself when an obvious solution occurred to her. In fact, she should have done it earlier. 

"Mr. Grange, let me scoot you back a bit." 

Mr. Grange readily accepted her help and shimmied on his bottom to the back of the tub. He fell against the wall with obvious relief. 

"Thank you lass," he said with a smile. 

"No problem," Clare replied, still kicking herself for not thinking of that earlier. "Why don't we get those legs clean?" 

"Sounds good," Mr. Grange replied. 

Clare went to work on his right leg, the one closest to her, and had it cleaned in short order. Easy-peasy, she thought before turning her attention to his left leg. That one would be more difficult. It only took a momentary glance at Mr. Grange to know that he was not going to be able to offer her much assistance in the matter. So Clare rose up on her knees and leaned fully over the tub, painfully aware of how her tits were now dangling right in from of the old man. 

She had not even soaped up half of his left thigh when she felt a hand on her breast. His other hand quickly followed and cringed as her "girls" were tugged in all directions. Clare closed her eyes for a second, trying her best to ignore his playful hands. Just get the last leg done, she thought, once again assuming that the nurses must deal with this all the time. Clare opened her eyes and attacked the leg with renewed vigor. 

Aside from the constant fondling of her tits, Clare had no problem soaping up the remainder of his left leg. She wiped the sponge over his left foot and shot upright, finally freeing herself from his hands. Whew, legs are done. By this point, she hardly cared that she was topless anymore, she was just glad to not be in range of those groping hands. Mr. Grange could stare all he wanted—which she noted he did. 

The problem was that as the last of the soap rinsed away, she was stuck with the same question she had earlier. How was she supposed to wash his midsection—which really meant, how did she clean his penis. 

Too abashed to look at him directly, Clare finally stated, "O—okay Mr. Grange, let's get your midsection cleaned." 

Clare finally looked at him, checking for any indication on Mr. Grange's face that this was out of the ordinary. All she saw was a stupid grin. I guess the nurses do wash his penis, she thought with a shudder. 

Clare took the sponge and worked it slowly over his manhood, squeezing the sponge along the way to cover his penis in soap. She thought she felt is twitch at one point, but figured the situation was leading to her imagining things. After two repetitions, Clare figured his penis had to be clean enough and set the sponge down to aim the sprayer. 

"Uhm, Clare?" 

Clare turned back to the old man, "Yes, Mr. Grange?" 

Mr. Grange looked at her sheepishly, "The other nurses usually clean that... spot... with their hands." At first, Clare did not follow. "The sponge does not get it clean enough," he continued, helping Clare understand. 

Clare's mouth dropped. Seriously? She could not believe what he was saying, but as she gave it more thought, it did make sense. While she had made sure to suds it up well, she doubted she got the underside very well. Clare stared at his penis in stunned silence for a few seconds. Might as well get it over with, she decided in the end. 

She released the sprayer and shifted back down the tub to Mr. Grange's side. Clare was well aware of the lecherous grin on his face as she hesitantly took his pecker in her soapy hand. Duh, she thought, Of course, he likes this part. What guy wouldn't? Again, Clare wrote it off as a perk of getting sponge bath. The area did need to be cleaned after all. 




Exposing the Caregiver Ch. 03



Clare slid her hand up and down Mr. Grange's pecker and there was no mistaking it twitching this time. I guess the old guy's still got it. Thankfully the thought brought a little levity to her current situation. That levity was ruined when Mr. Grange's hands wormed their way onto her tits for the umpteenth time. Clare very nearly pushed them away, but she decided this would not take long and it was not worth the effort. 

Mr. Grange's penis was actually starting to get hard by the time she finished the shaft and began to lather up his balls. 

"Unnngh," he groaned. 

Clare ignored the groan and finished rubbing soap into the sensitive area. That has to be good enough, she concluded, releasing his balls and once more extricating herself from his hands. Clare was past ready to end this experience and leave the bathing to the nurses. The look Mr. Grange gave her was filled with disappointment. He obviously had expected more. Clare avoided that gaze and resolutely aimed the sprayer at his midsection. 

"There, good as new," Clare said as the final suds were rinsed away. 

Towel him off and get the hell out of here. Clare was reaching for the towel to do just that when she heard Mr. Grange's voice. She flinched. 

"Clare?" Mr. Grange asked again, and Clare reluctantly turned. What now? "Sometimes, uhm, the other nurses... they finish me off," Mr. Grange told her tentatively, "Would you mind?" 

As if things could not get any crazier, had she just hear him correctly? Surely not... no freaking way the nurses are giving these guys handjobs. Are they? Then, she remembered how she was flashing Greg daily and bouncing her tits for his enjoyment. How she had—had given him a blowjob just the day before. Would a quick handjob from the nurses really that unbelievable? Clare was not sure anymore. 

Standing there, looking at the old man barely able to sit up in the bathtub, Clare felt pity. What did he really have to look forward to at this point? A few handjobs here and there after baths? Hell, if the other nurses could do it, so could she. 

"Okay, but just this once," Clare said finally, keenly aware of just how often she had been saying, "just this once," in the past few days. 

"Thank you, you are such a wonderful caregiver." 

Yea, you better think that, she thought as she kneeled beside the tub once more and reached for his pecker. Clare took hold of Mr. Grange's semi-rigid cock and began to stroke it gently. At least it is clean, she decided. By the second repetition, she once more had two hands on her tits. Clare shook her head. Men, she thought. I guess it'll just make this go faster. 

Clare pumped her hand up and down Mr. Grange's member for some time while he manhandled her "girls." At one point, he pinched her nipple, causing her to squeak in surprise. Clare shot him a glare that told him, "Do that again and this is over," which put an end to that. She felt his pecker grow significantly harder as she found her rhythm and hoped that meant he would finish soon. Her arm was starting to get tired. 

"You know," Mr. Grange remarked, as if reading her mind. "The old guy is not what he used to be. The other nurses often use their mouth to speed things up." 

Now Clare's jaw really did hit the floor. Her hand came to a screeching halt and she looked at Mr. Grange flabbergasted. You have got to be kidding me, she thought. The nurses are giving residents blowjobs after bathing? 

"What?" was all Clare could manage in reply. 

"It—It's okay if you don't want to," Mr. Grange replied, "I just thought I would let you know." 

Clare realized her hand had stopped and started to pump once more as her mind struggled to process the troubling information. That reasonable voice in the back of her head which she had ignored so many times in the past few days was screaming, "This is crazy!" Still, here she was, kneeling topless beside Mr. Grange, pumping his cock in order to "finish him off" after a bath. She knew this would have been just as crazy to her an hour ago. She barely knew what to think anymore. 

What she did know was that her arm was tired and had no doubt that a blowjob would be faster. Jesus, am I really justifying giving this guy a blowjob, she thought and realized she was. How was it that much different than what she did for Greg yesterday? During this mental back-and-forth, her focus had been away from the handjob for so long that she felt Mr. Grange's penis starting to soften. Ugh, let's just get this over with, she finally concluded. 

"Alright," Clare responded, still in a bit of a daze at what was happening. She did notice his penis instantly harden a bit. "How do you want to do this?" she asked. 

The lass had been silent for so long, that Mr. Grange had figured he had pressed her too far. When she agreed, he lost his voice for a moment. 

"Mr. Grange," she asked, and his old mind sprang into action. 

"Help me up," he instructed. 

Clare let go of his penis and rose to her feet. She took the old man's outstretched arm and guided him out of the tub. 

"Just, uh, sit me on the toilet," Mr. Grange instructed, wincing a bit at the movement. 

Clare eased him towards the toilet seat, where he plopped down with a grunt. Then stood up and looked at the old man, sitting there with his legs spread wide and staring up at her expectantly. Clare shook her head and thought, So much for returning to normalcy, she thought before dropping to her knees in front of the old man. Mr. Grange noticeably tensed in anticipation as her head moved between his legs. Just get it done. 

Clare closed her eyes and took his aged cock between her lips, scowling at the taste of soap. For the second time, she decided, at least he is clean. Just as she had done the day prior, Clare swirled her tongue around the cock's tip before working her way down the shaft. 

"Ohhh," Mr. Grange groaned, responding to her tongue's movements. 

Unlike Greg, Mr. Grange was not a 21 year-old virgin who came at the first contact with a woman's mouth. This lass was delightfully good at what she was doing, but his aged equipment simply did not work that quickly. Something that he did not mind at that moment. 

Clare took in as much of him as she could before starting her trek back to the tip. Mr. Grange's cock was now fully erect and he was definitely bigger than Greg. When her mouth reached the tip, she swirled her tongue around it a second time. 

"Ennngh, yes!" 

Clare plunged back towards the base, stroking the sensitive skin with her tongue along the way. About halfway through the second repetition, she felt the old man's hand move to the back of her head. Even though she hated when guys did that, she ignored the hand in hopes that it would help him finish quicker. When his hand began exerting pressure on the back of her head, Clare steeled her emotions and let it control her. She followed his hand's guidance up and down his cock while focusing on working her tongue throughout the process. 

"Oh... oh my!" 

His groans were coming much for frequently now, something Clare figured had to be a good thing. In his excitement, Mr. Grange's hand was pushing Clare to take in more and more of his penis with each stroke. His hips were also beginning to get into the action which only exacerbated the issue. Clare did her best to relax her throat and allow his cock access. With the old man's cock pumping in and out of her mouth, all she could think was, God, I hope he is close. 

"Yes, oh yes!" 

Thankfully, he was. When his pecker suddenly tensed up, Clare prepared for what came next. She closed her eyes and started to swallow her second load in two days. Mr. Grange thrust deep in her mouth and shot hot liquid squirt down her throat. No amount of throat relaxing could have prevented her from gagging, but old man did not slow. 

"Errrrnnngh!" the old man grunted loudly, experiencing his first ejaculation in over a decade. 

When his pecker retreated, Clare was only given a moment of relief before it came thrusting back, shooting another wave of semen into her belly. Clare managed to swallow it this time without gagging and was rewarded with another brief respite. The old man excitedly pumped his cock in and out of her mouth a few more times, but his seed had already been spent. Figuring this meant it was finally over, Clare started to pull away, but the pressure from Mr. Grange's hand remained. Unsure of what to do, Clare just sat there while the old man enjoyed her mouth for a while longer. 

When the grip on her head loosened, Clare wasted no time spitting Mr. Grange's member from her mouth. Finally! Clare leapt to her feet and retrieving her clothing. She did not even look at Mr. Grange until her bra and shirt were back in place. She could still taste his sperm in her throat and she wanted nothing more to get a drink of water. Unfortunately, when she finally looked at the naked, spent old man sitting on the toilet, she realized she needed to tend to him first. 

"Thank you, that was wonderful," Mr. Grange told her as she took his hand to help him rise. 

"No problem," Clare lied. Nothing she could do about it now. 

Mr. Grange smiled, but judging by how his legs trembled, that had taken a toll on him. Clare forgot about being upset for the moment and concentrated on getting him dressed and back in bed. It took longer than she would have liked, but she managed. Mr. Grange fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. Clare looked at him a moment and thought, so much for lunch. Clare then plopped down on a nearby stool and put her face in her hands, coming to terms with what had just happened.  

What a week, she thought. She had never been more ready for the weekend than she felt right then. Sitting there, she realized she still had Greg's appointment this afternoon. She prayed it would go well, she needed a break. Pulling her head up, Clare suddenly scolded herself. Get ahold of yourself. You are tougher than this. So you flashed a resident and gave a few blowjobs? Modeling probably entails that and more. You are not about to give up now! 

Inspired by the pep talk, Clare rose to her feet and grabbed the lunch menu. She ordered Mr. Grange the turkey sandwich, tidied up his room and noted the bath on his worksheet. Mr. Grange slept soundly the entire time. By the time she had finished, she realized she was already 5 minutes late to her next appointment. She bustled down the hall, intent on finishing the day strong. 

It was a credit to the job Clare had been doing that Mrs. Tyle did not complain about her tardiness. She complained about everything. Clare made it a point to be extra sweet to the old lady and by the end of the appointment, Mrs. Tyle was rambling about how she wished her daughter was more like Clare. That had to be a good sign, right? 

Clare moved to Greg's room determined to regain some control over the craziness that was becoming her life. She would flash him, maybe bounce her tits a few times, but nothing else. To any other attendee, those goals would have sounded outlandish... 

"Greg?" Clare called as she knocked and opened the door after his reply. Greg was sitting on the edge of the bed again and Clare wondered if the guy ever moved when she was not around. 

"How ya doin' Greg?" Clare asked. 

"I—I'm fine," he stammered. 

"Are you going to be good today?" 

"Yes!" he replied enthusiastically and Clare smiled. It really was contagious. 

They both fell into their routine and easily finished the daily worksheet. By this point, Clare expected nothing less. When the time came for his "reward," Clare reiterated what she had told herself earlier. A flash of her breasts, maybe a bounce or two, and done. Easy-peasy. Greg watched Clare reach under her shirt and unclasped her bra with his normal unbridled enthusiasm. She removed her top and freed her breasts for the second time that day. 

"Ohhh," Greg exclaimed, almost as if he was seeing her tits for the first time again. What more does he really have to look forward too, Clare thought as she stood there for his inspection. "Bounce?" he asked and Clare complied. 

She hopped a few times, bouncing her boobs for him and giggling at the ridiculous grin on his face. The ordeal with Mr. Grange this morning seemed a distant memory and that mischievous part of her started to gain traction once more. When Greg hesitantly reached for her chest, she made no effort to stop him—even though it broke the rules she had set prior to this appointment. So he touches them a bit, I'll stop it at that, Clare thought. 

Clare stopped hopping and allowed Greg to fondle her "girls." He was making them bounce plenty with his hands anyways. Clare let her mind wander while he played. She thought of New York and of modeling. She dreamed of the glamorous places it would take her. No longer would she be stuck in this dying town, filled with dying people. She would be free. The thought sent a shiver down her spine and she smiled. That smile dissipated when she came back to reality. 

Greg sat on the edge of the bed before her, his pants now around his ankles, stroking his penis with one hand and fondling her breast with the other. How the fuck did that happen, she thought. It seemed like only a few seconds had passed since she allowed him to touch her breasts at all. 

"What are you doing?" Clare demanded, stepping out of his reach. 

Greg's hand halted immediately and he look up at her confused. 

"I—I was j—just taking care of i—it," he replied. Clare immediately regretted her tone of voice. The guy sounded scared to death. 

"I'm sorry Greg, it was just unexpected," Clare tried to explain, but the look on Greg's face told her the damage was done. 

"S—sorry," he said, looking pathetic as he pulled his pants back into place. 

Clare felt terrible. He was just doing the same thing she told him he could do yesterday. She blamed herself for spacing out and not keeping control over the situation. 

"Greg, would you like to see my breasts bounce some more?" she offered, hoping it would console him. 

"S—sure," he replied without any of the youthful enthusiasm he had displayed earlier. 

Clare had to admit that she actually enjoyed these sessions with Greg. Sure, she was showing him her breasts, but that innocence, that feeling of pure power. She felt in her gut that these situations were rare. She wanted to make things right, to get back to where they were before she yelled at him. 

Clare briefly considered giving him another blowjob, but immediately scoffed at the idea. One blowjob was more than enough for a day, and if she did it again, Greg would probably start expecting her to give him one after every appointment... Clare stood there, bouncing her tits while trying to come up with a way to make things right. Had she even been playing the slightest bit of attention to the person she was fretting over, she would have noticed Greg's smile had already crept back onto his face. 

After a bit of a mental back-and-forth, Clare finally decided on a course of action. It was a little extreme, but not nearly as extreme as sucking the guy off—which she had already done. 

"Greg, would you like to see something else?" she asked, listening to that mischievous voice. 

"Sure!" Greg replied, his voice filled with energy once more, which made Clare happy. 

"Okay, but no touching this time," Clare said sternly, and meant it this time. 

"Ok," Greg replied and sat back, anxious to see what she was going to show him. 

You have no idea what you're in for, Clare thought, suddenly a more than a little unsure. Looking at his eager face, she pushed the doubt aside. Greg's eyes were transfixed on her hands as she untied the string around the waistband of her uniform. The knot fell apart and Clare inhaled deeply before sliding her pants downwards. 

"Wow!" Greg exclaimed when her red panties came into view. 

Clare stepped free of her pants and gave Greg a sly grin, "Should I remove these too?" 

Greg's exuberant nodding caused Clare to laugh. She slid her fingers under the waistband of her panties and started to slide them down. Her panties had only dropped an inch when she stopped and giggled. 

"Are you SURE you want me to take these off?" Clare asked again, having a blast toying with him. Somewhere, deep in her mind, that rational voice must have given up as it watched her performing a strip tease. 

"Uh-huh!" Greg replied, starting to bounce on the edge of the bed in unrestrained excitement. 

Clare decided she had toyed with him enough and slipped her panties down. Greg gulped when her manicured, blonde bush sprang into view. Clare took pride in all areas of her body and felt that her pussy was just as amazing as her "girls." She released her panties, allowing them to slide to her ankles, and stepped free. She was now completely exposed to her patient's prying eyes. 

While her cheeks had taken on a pink hue, Clare did not really feel embarrassed at what she was doing. Standing there, allowing Greg to see her in all her glory felt nothing like what had happened earlier. This felt electrifying. There was just something about Greg's demeanor through it all that eased Clare's concerns. Under that gaze, Clare started to twirl so he could see her ass as well. She was just as proud of the back as the front. 

"Pretty!" Greg exclaiming, clapping at her performance which only made Clare blush even more. 

Clare turned back towards him and leaned forward, dangling her naked breasts before him and asked, "Do you feel better now?" 

His ear-to-ear grin was all the reply that she needed. Clare laughed and thought, so much for a quick flash and a bounce or two. But realized she did not really care, it had been kind of fun. 

Clare gave Greg a wink before turning around and purposely bending over at the waist to retrieve her panties. The cool air on her pussy lips told her that she was fully in view. 

"W—wow!" 

Clare picked up her panties and turned back as if unaware of what had just happened. For his part, Greg sat there spellbound by what he had just witnessed. His eyes never leaving her midsection. Now, that was surely the first pussy he had seen, Clare thought with a wry smile, and you don't see those on TV. 

Clare slipped back into her panties and then her pants. Greg's transfixed stare finally broke free of her midsection when she re-tied the string at her waist. He got in one last look at her breasts before they too were gone. 

Once she was fully clothed, she asked, "So, are you going to miss me this weekend?" Greg nodded so hard that he risked breaking his neck. Clare giggled. "Well then, see you Monday!" 

"Bye," was the best Greg could manage at that point. 

Clare exited the building, thankful for the weekend, but realizing that she would miss her little shows as well. Oh well, there was always next week!