Looking after Dad for Mum

Thank you for reading my story, I hope that you enjoy it. Love Mica xx, Yorkshire England.

All email comments good or critical welcomed. Please note that all email comments from an invalid email address will be deleted immediately and will not be read, so please take care when entering your email. Rude or abusive comments may result in blocking. Please note that I am a British female, and I write in British English and vernacular, so for me a fanny is the correct term for female genitalia, a pussy is a pet cat and the ass is a bum or arse.

Mum was going into hospital for a hysterectomy, and would be there for a few days, and then would be bed bound for about a week when she came home.

"Can you come and stay whilst I am in Geraldine, and perhaps when I first come out?" Mum said, "Only your father is pretty useless and will live on cornflakes and forget to put the milk in the fridge and will make himself ill with spoiled milk."

"Yes Mum, of course i will, I will take a week's absence from work and come and stay. I can sleep in my old room I assume."

"Yes, I will make it up ready for you and ensure that the fridge and cupboards are stocked up. All I need you to do is basically feed your father."

That had been a month ago. I had arranged my week off from work, when I explained why they had been totally understanding. Mum was going in on a Sunday afternoon for the procedure to take place on Monday morning, so I got there on Saturday afternoon to give Mum time to go through with me all the things I needed to know.

After the second round of explanations from Mum, I nipped out and got us fish and chips.

"Last decent meal for a while," Mum said, "I have no doubt they won't let me eat tomorrow or Monday."

"That is what I thought, hence the fish and chips." I answered. We all love fish and chips and the local chippie, to Mum and Dad that is, is an award winner, best in West Yorkshire and in the Top Ten in the whole of the UK. Their fish is Haddock, they use dripping as the fat, and they double cook their chips. The batter isn't greasy, and the whole thing is delicious. If you buy a 'fish and chip supper' it comes with fish, chips, gravy, peas and curry sauce. All for ten pounds. I call that a bargain.

Three of them, unwrapped on the kitchen table and the sauces spread about. Mum had put salt and vinegar on the table, and she had buttered some rounds of bread whilst I was at the chippie. It was a superb supper and just what we needed. It went down well and left us feeling nicely sated.

I cleared away the papers from the chip shop and took them out to the bin outside, otherwise they had a habit of making the house smell of stale fish. Mum made some tea, and we went and sat in the lounge and watched Doctor Who and then Strictly Come Dancing. They had been on earlier, but Mum had recorded them, and we sat and enjoyed them as if they were on live.

In the morning, I got up, showered in the family bathroom, Mum and Dad had an ensuite, and I went down in my robe to put the kettle on and make some toast. As the kettle was boiling, I got the butter out of the fridge and put it by the radiator to soften, and got the marmalade out of the cupboard, putting it on the kitchen table with some knives and plates.

Dad came down next. "Morning Geraldine," he said.

"Morning Dad," I answered, "toast is on the table, I am just doing some more."

"Thank you love, your Mum is shaving, you know, down there. They asked her to, so she has borrowed my razor and is clearing the garden."

I laughed, "Ha Dad, some of us shave all the time you know."

"What?" He said, "why on earth would you do that?"

"Oh, lots of reasons Dad. Things look better and it is more hygienic, so yes, I shave."

"Looks better? Good grief, the mind boggles." He sat and buttered a piece of toast and then spread marmalade on it. I knew that he would have preferred a bacon sandwich, but that would have been unfair on Mum, she needed light foods only today, and nothing at all after six this evening. She didn't need the smell of bacon wafting around the house."

"Good morning love," Mum said as she came into the room, "gosh that was a chore."

"Apparently Geraldine does it all the time." Dad said.

"What, shave? Down there?" Mum said looking at me.

"Yes Mum, it's no big deal."

"Well, it was for me Geraldine, it was for me. I feel naked even though I have clothes on."

I shrugged. "Can you have toast Mum?" I asked.

"Yes love, but no jam or marmalade. And I can have tea, but they said no sugar, but I don't have sugar these days anyway."

"Okay Mum, the pot is hot, I'll just get the milk from the fridge."

I wondered if I had passed Mum's test, she had undoubtedly set me a test to make sure I could look after Dad whilst she was away, perhaps letting me come down first was it. After all she could easily have gone up and shaved after breakfast.

After breakfast, Dad took a cup of tea and went and sat in the lounge, and Mum went up to put a few essentials in her hospital bag. Her kindle for reading, her phone charger and a magazine for the pictures. We all pottered around the house doing nothing of consequence and then it was time to take Mum and drop her off at the hospital.

Finding somewhere to park at the hospital was, as always, a joke. I dropped Mum and Dad off at reception and went to find somewhere, I ended up around the back in maternity, it didn't say I couldn't park there, so I did. Got my exorbitantly priced ticket from the machine, displayed it and then went back to find Mum and Dad. I couldn't see them anywhere.

I asked the receptionist where they might be and explained what Mum was in for, she directed me to ward nine in the main block. That took me another five minutes of walking, and eventually I found the ward with Mum and Dad sat on chairs by the reception desk for the ward.

"They've just gone to find someone to check me in," Mum said, "Hopefully it won't be long.

To be fair, it wasn't, only a few minutes and then a nurse came along with a clipboard. They would have to do a few things first, temperature, blood pressure etcetera and then once that was all done, they would take Mum through. We could go with her, but as it wasn't visiting hours, we couldn't stay.

Eventually all formalities were completed, and we were taken through, Mum was in a four bed bay, two of the beds had women in sleeping, and the other two were empty. Mum had a window bed. She had been given a hospital gown to change into, and the nurse pulled a curtain screen around the bed so that Mum could change with some dignity. I helped Mum undress and put on the gown. The nurse did say that Mum should get into bed, but that she could sit on the chair at the side if she preferred. Mum chose the bed.

"I'll freeze if I sit on the chair," she said.

The hospital ward was really warm, but then, Mum and Dad kept their house warmer than I did my house, so I guess to her it was cool. To me it was almost stifling. Mum settled into the bed, she had her phone, her kindle and her magazine and a jug of water. We kissed her and left her to it, heading on down to find the car.

Back at home Dad settled on the sofa with some football on TV, I went in the kitchen and made a pot of tea. After the tea had brewed, I poured us two mugs and went back through to Dad, passing him a mug.

I sat opposite him on the armchair. I had little interest in the football, Bournemouth and Brentford I think, neither teams I knew anything about. I curled my legs up under me and scrolled on my phone. The afternoon passed, slowly. Eventually the football finished and Dad looked at me.

"Are we having tea?" He asked.

"Yes Dad, of course we are. Mum said that she had a fish pie in the fridge with some peas. I'll go and put it in the oven to warm through."

He grumbled, Lord knows why, I mean Mum had made the pie knowing it was one of his favourites, and all I had to do was heat it up. I went into the kitchen and turned the oven on to warm. I flicked the kettle on and went back to the lounge.

"Another cup of tea Dad," I asked, "whilst we wait for the pie."

"Please," he answered a little unenthusiastically. I guessed he was worrying about Mum. I wasn't, not these days, the surgery was straight forward, it was just that the recovery was slow. A weeks bed rest and then a month of no lifting or bending. I think I could go with that, not the operation, just the week of bed rest.

I made another pot of tea, and whilst it was brewing, I put the pie into the middle of the oven on an oven tray in case the sauce boiled over, the peas in a pan on low, and then set a thirty minute timer. I poured two teas and went back to the lounge. Dad was now watching cricket highlights, India versus England. Goodness me.

I handed him his tea and then sat back on the armchair, brushing my skirt down and sipping at my tea. Dad was watching his cricket, sipping his tea, and looking across at me. Odd, I thought, I mean he know what I look like, he doesn't need to keep looking at me. I have always been closer to Dad than to Mum, even though I love them both, and when Mum asked for my help, my immediate answer was 'yes'.

Dad has always said that I look like Mum, especially as she looked when he started going out with her all those centuries ago, well, three decades or so, but to hear him talk you would think it was centuries. His health has declined recently, and he took the opportunity to retire early, takingpart of his pension pot and paying of the mortgage and leaving a nice sum as an investment until his proper pension kicked in at official retirement age. They were comfortably off as long as they weren't extravagant with their money. Mum worked part time in a charity shop in town, the pay was minimum wage, but it got her out of the house and away from Dad for a few hours.

The timer pinged and I got up to dish up tea. I remember when I lived at home, Mum always used to call to us to wash our hands and come for dinner. I didn't think I needed to tell my Dad to wash his hands. I took the fish pie out of the oven and took the peas of the low hob, they had nicely warmed and hadn't over cooked. I split the pie across two warm plates that I got out of the warming drawer, and then split the peas. I called Dad.

"Mum made it with loads of Parsley Sauce, but if you need more, there is some in the fridge that Mum made that I can warm up. Okay Dad?"

"Yes baby thank you." He sat down in his usual seat and I sat opposite and we both tucked in. The fish pie was excellent, I could detect smoked haddock, prawns, some salmon, what looked like cod and a load of homemade parsley sauce, all under a mashed potato crust. Absolutely lovely. Mum can cook, I will give her that. Luckily she taught me the basics as I was growing up, and I have to say, I am no slouch in the kitchen, but most of the time I am just cooking for me and I frankly can't be bothered. I don't do ready meals, but I do not do anything elaborate. I will make a basic pie and serve it with mash. I will do a Sunday roast, but it will usually be Chicken, Roast Potatoes, and either parsnips or a small cauliflower cheese. Now, if I was entertaining, I would elevate the meals in an effort to impress, but for just me, I can't be arsed.

After dinner Dad went back and sat in front of the TV whilst I cleared everything into the dishwasher and set it going. Not being familiar with their new dishwasher I just used all the default settings and let it do its thing.

Back in the lounge Dad was just coming off the phone.

"Your mother," he said, "just checking up on me."

"Ha ha, on me more like Dad, was I looking after you properly."

"I told her that the pie she made was fabulous and that you had heated it to perfection. That seemed to make her happy. They are getting her up at six in the morning, apparently she is first in theatre."

"Oh good, no hanging around worrying then, wake up, Obs, and then surgery. Good."

"Yes. She said she would ring when she could."

"I doubt she will be in a good enough state to ring us, anaesthetic really knocks you for six, she will be groggy. I will ring the ward in the morning and see how she is."

"Yes good. Now come and sit by me and we will watch some TV before we go to bed."

He put on some programme about antiques and then a Midsummer Murders took us up to bedtime. Dad checked all the doors were locked and windows shut and then we went up.

"Of course, I shan't sleep, without your Mum here," he said.

"Oh, I am sure that you will."

"Oh no, she always looked after me before bed, you know, see to my needs, but she isn't here so, she can't."

"I'll see you in the morning Dad," I said and went into my room. I wasn't really sure what he was on about, I could guess, but I would probably be miles off track, and even if it was what it sounded like, that wasn't for me to help with. He would just have to close his eyes and go to sleep. I wasn't going to offer to help.

I stripped off my clothes and put my robe on and went to the family bathroom, used the loo, cleaned my teeth and headed back to my room, leaving my door partially ajar to just let some air flow. I put my robe on the chair and climbed into bed hoping it would warm up soon, it felt really cold to get into. Mum and dad had an electric blanket, my old bed didn't, so it was cold to climb into.

I could hear Dad's bed creaking, their bed was quite old and it either needed the joints tightening, if that were even possible, or simply replacing, but they probably thought that was an unnecessary expense. I didn't think that, all I could hear was creak, creak, creak, as Dad tossed and turned. It just went on and on.

I tried shutting it out, but it just seemed to go straight through my head. Nothing I could do worked. My ear buds didn't have noise cancelling, so even with me putting them in, I still couldn't shut the noise out. Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. I got out of bed and padded across the landing and pushed Dad's door open.

"Dad, please, you are tossing and turning and your bed creaks, can't you just lay still?"

"No baby, I can't."

"Well, tomorrow you need to think about a new bed then Dad, this one makes a terrible noise."

My eyes suddenly screwed up tight as Dad put his bedside light on and for a moment I was dazzled.

"Oh," Dad said.

"What?" I said as I blinked a few times to get used to the brightness.

"You are naked Geraldine."

As I got my eyes used to the light I looked at Dad.

"So are you Dad, it's bed time, I don't wear a nightie."

"When you sat opposite me I could see your knickers."

Oh, that is why he kept looking across at me. "My knickers are not something you should have looked at Dad."

"You're not wearing knickers now Geraldine."

"No Dad."

His dick was there, sticking up, hard. Now, I have seen a few dicks in my life. One so enormous it probably should have been in the Guinness Book of World Records, one so small that you hardly knew it was there, but to be fair, its owner was a magician with his fingers and tongue. Dad was, well, large, certainly on the upper end of endowed so to speak.

"And you have an erection Dad, can't you deal with it and just go to sleep?"

"No Baby, that is what your mother dealt with. When it became too sore inside for her, she used to deal with me. Sometimes I helped her too, but only on the outside. Tonight she isn't here."

"Do it yourself Dad, that is what most men do." And women too if truth be told.

"I can't baby, it just isn't the same, it doesn't work that way for me."

Oh good grief. There was nothing for it. I went and sat on the bed.

"Close your eyes dad and imagine I am Mum." I said as I wrapped my fingers around his dick. It twitched. I am no stranger to wanking a dick, I have had many a boyfriend, and it was my preferred option when I was on my period. I just tried to imagine the dick in my hand wasn't Dad's.

I squeezed and rolled his foreskin down revealing his glans, large, purple and with a neat rim around it, his foreskin almost caught beneath, but not quite. On the bed stand there was a small bottle of 'intimate lube'. Goodness me, did Mum use that I wondered. I reached across and flipped the lid and squeezed a few drops out onto Dad's glans, that made his body jerk, the coolness of the lube I guessed.

I began moving my hand up and down, his foreskin rolling back and forth, his glans hiding and then revealing, faster and faster I went, squeezing his dick as I wanked him. I watched, fascinated, as his foreskin wrapped around his glans completely hiding it, and then seemed to disappear as I moved my hand down, the little hole in the end of his dick almost winking at me.

He started squirming a little on the bed and I hoped that he was near, my hand was getting a little tired. I tried to go faster, push my hand further down, I tried to squeeze harder, and then he erupted, spurts shooting from his dick as he ejaculated. I slowed down and then let go and pulled some tissues from the box on the side table.

"Here Dad, now, please, try to go to sleep," I said as I handed him the tissues.

"You look so much like your Mum you know," he said.

"Well, you dream of Mum, not me, I am going to go to sleep now. Good night Dad," and I leant across and kissed him goodnight, he squeezed my right boob as I did. I backed away and went back to my room and got into bed, and now I felt fully awake.

I had just wanked my Dad, my Dad who had made me, who had, those twenty three years ago cum inside my Mum and created me. I wondered how Mum felt with his dick inside her. I know recently with her problems she had been uncomfortable inside and so had resorted to other methods, at least her hand, I wondered if she used her mouth too.

As I lay there dozing off I couldn't help but wonder what Dad's dick would feel like inside me.

In the morning I put my robe on, went to the bathroom, used the loo, cleaned my teeth and then went back to my bedroom and dressed. As I was fastening my skirt, I remembered that ad had been looking at my knickers and I got a sort of frisson run through me, and a small shiver ran through me down to my groin.

Down in the kitchen I put the kettle on and then some bacon on a rack under the grill. In the fridge I found a jar of what looked like dripping, I used that to spread on some bread, I would give Dad a nice breakfast to hopefully take his mind of Mum. I would have one too, I didn't often eat bacon these days, but a treat was a treat.

I called up to Dad and said that breakfast was ready and made a pot of tea. I heard dad moving around, and then he came down. He was dressed in a shirt and trousers, good, no dropping of standards just because Mum wasn't here.

"Do you want HP on your bacon sandwich Dad?" I asked.

"Please it is in the cupboard above the microwave."

I got the brown sauce and put it on the table, then I took the bacon from under the grill and added it to the bread, put the lids on, cut them in half square ways, diagonal cuts were for lunch sandwiches, not breakfast, Mum had taught me that, and put sandwiches in front of him, and mine on the table opposite him.

I poured two teas, and sat down to enjoy my breakfast.

"This is good Geraldine," Dad said, his mouth full of bacon and ripping pleasure. I just nodded, I was too busy enjoying an almost forgotten joy to speak. Why didn't I treat myself to this once a week? I could go to the farm shop and buy some decent bacon, save the dripping from when I cooked a joint of beef, and I could even buy a crusty loaf from the bakers. Surely it was worth it.

"Thank you Geraldine," Dad said.

"It is okay dad, this is delicious."

"I meant for last night."

"Oh." I had tried not to think about it, but the scraps of dreams I could remember were all about me and Dad shagging, it had been somewhat unsettling.