NEW Story - The Broken Rule

The Broken Rule

First rule of being a caregiver is to never get emotionally involved. Not that you shouldn't care, of course - you have to care, you have to feel something for the people you work with. But emotional attachment, that's a different story. That's just bad karma, for so many reasons. Not just romantic involvement either. You can't become 'best friends' with your charge. Even if they're the coolest, most awesome person ever, that level of relationship never goes well. I knew this, had known it for years. Like I said, it was the first rule, the most important rule - and it took me almost ten years to break it.

My first charge was a great guy, elderly, had a serious stroke, hemiplegic. I worked with him for almost five years, and I started working with him two weeks before graduation, thanks to agency placement and an early look at my grades (all top marks). He passed away in his sleep, while another caregiver was with him. I got the message form the agency that morning, before I headed in to his apartment. I shed some tears - he was a very nice man, had a loving family - but I was back at work the next day. No big deal. No attachment.

My second charge was an old woman with ALS. We never connected, and I took care of her for three years, afternoon shift. Sat and made sure she could see her game shows, changed her diapers. Surfed the web thanks to a purse-sized Netbook and her neighbor's unsecured wi-fi. That was two years.

Rebecca was next, after a few short-lived hospice stints. She was a sad case, twelve years old, quadriplegic due to a seriously abusive father. Her mom was blind, too - same reason. Fucking sick bastard. There were more than a few nights I went home in tears from that one, I'll admit, and though I did become friends with Becky's mom and we still talked on the phone from time to time, I didn't feel that I had ever broken that golden rule. I stayed with Becky for a little over three years, until they had to move to Arizona for some health reasons. Becky had really blossomed, though, in the years I knew her, and was looking forward to high school and maybe even driving some day, with some specially adapted equipment.

Then came Meghan. I have to say, even though I took great pride in my work, I took it all very seriously, and I held that first rule pretty much sacred, I knew I was in trouble on my first day.

How do I describe Meghan? She was ten years my junior, she had just turned nineteen, and was taking a hear off before college. She was severely disabled, of course - that's why she needed a caregiver. She was born without arms - she had smooth shoulders the just ended. Rare birth defect, nobody saw it coming, but her family was able to cope with it. She was learning to use her legs and feet for arms and hands, standard rehab stuff, from a very early age, when the second half of God's 1-2 punch hit her.

Her neighbors were very 'global village' kinds of people and, when Meghan was only ten, they had an exchange student from India visit for half a school year. Meghan was very friendly and outgoing, of course, and became friends with the student, Priyesh, who was four or five years older than Meghan, but was very nice and very friendly as well. The pair hung out a number of times, went swimming together - had typical 'school friends' contact for a few months. Then Meghan started to feel sick. Then Meghan couldn't use her feet to pick things up any more. Then Meghan woke up unable to move her legs at all. Not even wiggle a toe.

It didn't take long for the doctors to narrow things down and diagnose Meghan with polio. Priyesh's paperwork turned out to have some 'inaccuracies' in it, and he was indeed carrying the polio virus. Meghan had contracted the disease, along with one other girl in Priyesh's class. It was quite the scandal, apparently, though I didn't remember anything in the papers about it.

That had been nine years previous and had permanently confined Meghan to a mouth-controlled wheelchair. It hadn't damped her spirit, however - in truth, it had probably caused her inner light to shine all the more brightly, because that's just how Meghan was.

When I met her, she was wearing a smart skirt, nude stockings on her wasted, polio-crippled legs, and a grey long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves hanging empty at her shoulders. She sat in a fancy power wheelchair, her mouth stick at the ready, and she smiled this glowing, beacon-like smile that took me off guard. I'd worked with dozens of critically ill and severely disabled clients over the years, and Meghan was the first, the absolute first, who did not show the slightest hint of the inner bitterness and negativity that comes with having a condition that required, well... me.

I introduced myself and got a rundown from Rob, the caregiver I was taking over for. He was getting married and moving to Nebraska or something, but you could tell there was a bond between he and Meghan that went somewhat beyond that of caregiver and patient. I mentally chastised Rob for breaking the first rule, but in my heart, after just meeting Meghan, I could almost understand.

I pushed that out of my mind. For a little while, anyway.

"So, am I your most pathetic case?" Meghan asked cheerfully after Rob had left and I started about my routine. The question caught me off guard, more for her characterizing herself as 'pathetic' than anything else.

"Actually, you're in second place." I said honestly, still trying to keep my professional distance while at the same time being friendly and approachable.

"Oooh, really? Tell me about it!" she asked, using her mouth control to turn in my direction, her face full of curiosity and excitement.

"Young girl." I said, stopping what I was doing. "Twelve when I met her. Her dad threw her against the wall for changing the channel on the TV. Broke her neck." I swallowed. Becky was still a hard one for me. "Her mom tried to call 911 to get her help. He tore the phone out of the wall, beat her in the face with it. Blinded her, both eyes."

"Jesus." Meghan said, eyes wide.

"I know. Sorry - probably shouldn't have gone into so much detail." I said, genuinely sorry for having said so much. Instead of horror, though, Meghan beamed. I looked at her. "Something funny?" I asked at the smile on her face.

"sorry, I feel terrible for the girl and her mom, naturally, but this is the first time I've come in second place. I feel almost normal! I need to facebook this!" And she took her mouth control between her lips and moved into another room as I stood there shocked.

And that, in a nutshell, was Meghan. She knew she was terribly crippled. Armless, no hope of prosthetic, polio-crippled legs that had basically stopped growing when she was ten. But she had a beauty about her that was almost supernatural. Her amber hair glowed, her face was gorgeous, her smile was electric. She didn't seem to have a negative bone in her crippled body, and even when she talked about her disability there was no bitterness, no self pity. She was just 'Meghan', and she was disabled in body, but never, ever in spirit.

Looking back now, I think knew that first day that the only outcome for me was to fall in love with Meghan. I didn't even know if she was gay, I wasn't even sure I was gay, but what I did know on that first day was that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. That when we were together, it was like I was lying on a sunny beach, and when I left at the end of the day, it was like my life filled with clouds and rain.

Every day,I'd show up for work a little earlier. Every day, I'd spend an extra few minutes after my relief arrived. I'd help Meghan with her facebook, or just watch a little TV with her, or get takeout Chinese delivered, paying for it out of my own pocket, even though it was against her nutritional plan. Every day, my job became less about 'taking care of Meghan' and more about 'Making Meghan happy.' And then one day, maybe two months into the job, Meghan did it, she crossed the line, and I let her, and I never looked back.

"Elizabeth." she said in her beautiful, sing-song voice.

"Yes, dear?" I asked, having dropped the formality of 'Meghan' or 'Miss Jones' on my second day.

"I'm almost 20, you know." she said matter of factly. She was, it was true. Her birthday was only six or so weeks away. I had already thought about what I would get her.

"Yes - coming up soon. Any thoughts on what you'd like?"

Meghan looked at me with her deep, chocolate brown eyes, and as usual, I started to melt. Then she said it.

"I'd like to lose my virginity. With you." she said simply, but with such deep emotion that all I could do was to move to her wheelchair and hug her, feeling her armless shoulders, smelling her apple-blossom shampoo. And I kissed her.

I have always dreamed of a kiss like that kiss. Not a cliche, romance novel kiss that's all about love and kittens and brass horns. It was loving, it was passionate, it was heartfelt, yes. But more than that this was a kiss straight out of my deepest most erotic fantasy. My guts turned to warm pudding and my pussy felt like it was a waterfall. My knees buckled and I started kissing Meghan's legs, her thighs, and she begged me to do more. Pleaded with me. The lust in her voice was deeper and more sincere that I had ever heard.

I pushed her wheelchair to the bedroom and undressed in front of her. We said nothing. I kissed her, deeply, passionately, running my fingers through her hair. She moaned, she pressed her abbreviated body against mine from her wheelchair. I slipped her soft t-shirt off, she wasn't wearing a bra. I kissed her breasts sensually, I licked and nibbled her nipples, and she moaned.

I knew I would never feel her fingers running through my hair as I kissed her. I knew I would never feel her legs wrapped around me as I held her. I knew that, more than anyone I had ever been with, I wanted Meghan. With every fiber of my being, I wanted her. As crippled and as helpless as she was, I could not imagine living my life without her.

I kissed her armless shoulder, tracing sensual patterns across her smooth skin with my tongue, and she practically whimpered. I moved down her warm, soft body as she sat in her wheelchair, slowly pulling down her cotton skirt, revealing her diaper. The diaper that I had changed dozens of times, never admitting to myself what I wanted to do once I had it off. Now I tore it open just to touch that golden fur that glistened - Meghan was so aroused, it was like a heavy dew had fallen just for me.

Her legs were small, thin, limp from the polio that had crippled her. She couldn't move them at all, not even wiggle a toe; the polio had seen to that. But she could still feel them. Feel every touch, every caress. I slipped her soft socks off of her feet and began to kiss them, to suck on her small toes, like I had fantasized as I lay in bed at night dreaming of her hair, the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips. I kissed and licked her feet and she giggle, and then she moaned, and then she begged me to come closer, to move higher up her small, useless legs.

I wanted to tease her - I really did. I wanted her first sexual experience to be long, and sensual, and erotic, and drawn out. I wanted it to be perfect for her, for my perfect crippled angel. But she didn't want that. The need in her eyes, the deep desire in her voice drew me in, and I hadn't even taken her out of her wheelchair when my tongue pressed against the exquisite folds of her moist flower. It was like a lightning strike had hit both of us as I spread her withered legs and licked and sucked on her clit as I poked my tongue into her sweet virgin sex.

Meghan moaned and yelled and screamed as I ate her out, caressing and kissing and licking her pussy, her limp legs. It didn't take long before all that pent up sexual frustration finally broke, and she came, oh my darling Meghan came in waves of orgasm that made her weep, tears of joy and pleasure rolling down her cheeks. She had always tried to think of herself as 'normal', but sex, sensuality, that was something that always eluded her in her armless, crippled state. A fact that I was happy to change for her.

I lay her in bed without her even asking, and I kissed and held her as she smiled, as she thanked me, as she wept. And then I moved myself into a position that made it easy for her to access my dripping wet sex, and without a word she was at me. Her mouth was so talented, it caught me off guard, though it had been her only means of interacting with the world since she was ten - it shouldn't have surprised me as it did. Her tongue and lips made me write in pleasure and moan with delight, and as I caressed her smooth, armless shoulders, I came loudly, explosively, my juices glistening across her beaming face. She didn't want to stop, and I came another three times as she licked and kissed my sensitive clit, before finally collapsing beside her, wrapping my arms around her warm, panting frame.

I could feel her limp, soft legs pressed against my naked skin, I could feel the smooth armless shoulders rub against me. Meghan was helpless, unable to even scratch her nose or use the toilet on her own, but to me she was perfect, she was so beautiful, so sensual, and I told her that, whispered it in her ear as we lay there together. And I told her I loved her. She said nothing. She wept. I knew it wasn't with sadness.

I cleaned Meghan and dressed her and got myself cleaned up a half hour before my shift ended, and my replacement - a very nice older woman named Sarah - immediately knew something had changed. There was an energy, an atmosphere in the place that was so warm and almost electric. As I clocked out of my shift and looked into Meghan's beautiful, loving eyes, I died a little inside as I left for home. I knew I wouldn't be able to do that much longer - to leave her like that. I don't think either of us could handle it.

I showed up for work the next day an hour early carrying an overnight bag, and told Meghan I didn't intend to let her sleep alone again. She asked me to dress her, and instead of her signature long sleeved shirt I dressed her in a pink athletic fit tank top with no bra, exposing her deformity, accentuating her difference, and I loved it. And she saw the way I looked at her, with the love and attraction I felt for her, and she loved it too. It lifted her, it excited her. It made her happy, a happiness that she felt she might never experience in all her life. A happiness I too, knew I had been missing, until this beautiful, sensual, crippled girl came into my life.

We made love again that day, this time a slow, sensual, erotic thing that made us both cry out in passion and delight for hours. We went out to lunch at a local cafe, and Meghan relished the looks and stares of passers by as I fed her a sandwich and iced coffee and we talked and giggled together. Meghan then called the nursing agency and told them that her situation had changed, and that she no longer needed night time care. She looked at me with loving eyes. The situation had certainly changed. The whole world had changed. For both of us.