I give a cursory knock on the door but already have the keys out. I know Mr Browne is waiting but won’t be making it down the hall to let me in. That was why they’d given me a set of keys when I started work for the agency.

I’ve only been working for the agency for a month but sometimes find the job soul destroying. These people are shells, husks of their former selves. Those who could still remember who they’d been had a glassy look in their eye like they’d rather be back there.

It’s my first job since completing my diploma in health care but the agency I’ve signed up with doesn’t give me much chance to practice the skills and interventions I’d been trained on. “Get in, change their pads and sheets, give them some food and be out again.” I can still remember the trainer's words; “You don’t get paid to have long reminiscing conversations with them. You’re on a schedule.”

I call out as usual as I open the door to let him know I’m there. Many of these people live in fear of being broken into and there were enough scare stories in the newspapers of old people living alone being robbed and attacked in their own homes.

Mr Browne is sitting in his armchair by the fire as normal. This is the visit that I enjoy the most. It’s my last one of the day and I often find myself staying to have a proper conversation with him.

“Hello gorgeous,” Mr Brown laughs as I enter the room.

I blush and tuck a stray strand of long blonde hair back behind my ear.

“Oh you old charmer,” I giggle as I set about putting the kettle on.

“Have you eaten today?” I call over my shoulder as I fill the kettle in the kitchen sink.

“Yes,” he calls back. “There’s biscuits in the cupboard. Bring a couple in with the tea, thanks.”

I can’t help smiling. This is a routine we’ve got down pat over the past few weeks. He’d flirt, tell me I was gorgeous and I’d demurely set about making him tea and biscuits.

I sit now, clasping the mug of hot tea between my hands as Mr Browne carefully sips his own mug.

“You’re a right stunner, Sophie, you know.”

I glance up to find Mr Browne staring intently at me.

“You should wear your hair down. Go on, make an old man’s day. Let your hair down just this once.”

I blush, then shrug. Why not? A quick glance at my watch. The shift is technically over. I place the mug on the table in front of me, then reach back and pull the hair band securing the ponytail in place. With a shake of my head, my hair falls around my shoulders.

“Now that’s more like it,” Mr Browne beams. “Aye, a proper stunner. You look just like my Rosie did, the first time I set eyes on her.”

I glance around the room. There are photographs of Rosie everywhere. He’d told me they’d been married for forty-two years. I knew that Rosie had been dead for three years now. Their children all lived away and the eldest was paying the agency to have someone call in and check on him every couple of days.

“She was about your age then. She was twenty, I was twenty-two.”

A grin spreads across his face. “I’ll never forget the night we got it together. Vince Emery was playing at the Ballroom of Romance. Course it’s just a Bingo hall these days, but back then, people used to travel from miles around for the dance.”

I smile at him as he continues.

“I’d cycled the six miles on my old pedal bike. Park up and we’d dance until the early hours. Course I always gave Rosie a lift home. She’d sit behind me with her arms wrapped around my waist. I tell you, cycling up the hill to her parents house was a workout in itself.”

I sit and sip my tea, letting him reminisce. I’ve heard this story four or five times already but it loses nothing of their love for each other in the retelling.

“We used to stand at the end of her lane, hidden from the house by the old beech tree, and kiss. She was a great kisser. With her head tilted up, gazing into my eyes as we kissed, my hands were wrapped around her like I’d never let her go. She used to press herself against me and giggle that she could feel me through my trousers.”

His smile broadens as he relives the memories.

“She used to rub herself against me, teasing me, whispering in my ear how big it was and one of these days, she’d get down on her knees and see it for herself.”

He shakes his head.

“She’d tell me that every week, and then she'd step back, and just when I thought she was going to drop to her knees, she’d skip away and giggle her way up the lane, her laughter ringing in my ears all the way home.”

He chuckles to himself as he finishes the tale. He glances over, and I feel him looking at me as a woman, rather than his carer.

“So was it worth waiting for?” I ask, more to break the silence than anything.

“Was what?”

“The blowjob. When you finally got Rosie down on her knees.” I tilt my head to one side and smile.

He ruefully shakes his head.

“No. Turns out, the one thing Rosie didn’t like was the thought of my penis anywhere near her mouth.”

He sees my eyes widen in surprise and quickly reassures me.

“Oh she was a right goer, and no mistake. The things we got up to. But she wasn’t one for oral sex. Didn't like me going near her either. She said it wasn’t right, putting your mouth where you peed.”

Curiosity is getting the better of me and I can’t help asking, “So have you never had a blowjob then?”

The twinkle in his eyes goes out for a second or two before he rallies and smiles. Lifting his head, he glances over at me.

“No, pet. I can’t say I have. I never cheated on her the whole time we were together. The thought of it wouldn’t even have crossed my mind. What we had was better than any blowjob.”

I nod, pretending to take a drink, even though the mug is empty, just to give me time to put my expression in order.

“Mind you. You can see just about anything on the internet these days. I’ve watched plenty of them.”

My eyes widen in shock.

“Mr Browne, I'm shocked,” I laugh.

“Please, Sophie. Call me Alan,” he replies, his shoulders chuckling with suppressed laughter. “You’re glad you finished your tea anyway. Otherwise you’d have spat it out.”

I blush, slowly shaking my head as I look at Alan sitting in his chair.

“So… Do you watch a lot of porn?” I’m intrigued now by this voyeuristic glimpse into the old man’s world.

“Oh aye. I kinda have to space it out a bit as I don't recover as fast as I used to.”

“Space it out?”

“Aye. With Rosie, I could be rock hard again in five or ten minutes. Nowadays it might take me half an hour before I feel like watching more.”

I can’t help my eyes moving to take in the computer and monitor on the desk in the corner. The comfy swivel chair, all fake leather with a tattered red cushion on the seat. Images of Mr Browne, Alan, with his corduroy trousers unfastened and his geriatric cock in his hand.

“Of course, watching it on video is all well and good, but it’s not the same. You’re too used to your own hand.”

He grins at me. “And you young people can’t imagine us old folks having sex, can you?”

I blush. I consider trying to bluff my way out but can see in his eyes he knows exactly what I am thinking.

“Tried one of those escort girls once. Was a right waste of time.”

“I’m sorry, you did what?”

“On the internet. Yorkshire Escorts it was called or something. Wanted the cost of the taxi here and back as well as a hundred pounds for the blowjob. When I told her I was a pensioner and didn’t have that kind of money, she told me to ‘Fuck off, Grandad’ and hung up.”

“Oh, Alan. I’m so sorry.” I slip over and sit on the arm of his chair. “That was a horrible thing to say.”

“Aye, well. I considered doing an in-call. Get the bus into town and whatever. But, well...” He trails off and there is an immense sadness in his eyes.

It is at that moment that my desire to make Alan happy overrides my normal senses and before I can stop it, I offer “I could give you a blowjob… if you like.”

Before I have a chance to laugh or clarify that I was only joking, he looks up with the biggest grin I’ve ever seen. “Oh, Sophie. That’d be champion, like.” His hands go to his waist, his belt is unbuckled and his trousers are pushed down while my brain is still playing catch up.

I notice his pants are clean, which is something. They look freshly laundered but what I really notice is the large bulge in them. This is clearly not a man in need of viagra.

I raise my eyes from his bulge and his eyes are sparkling with excitement. He lifts his ass off the chair and pushes his pants down. His cock slaps back against his stomach.

It’s too late to back out now, I tell myself, whilst mentally cursing my big mouth. I slide out of the chair and lower myself to my knees. It only takes a few seconds to crawl across to him. I swallow nervously as I approach. He just sits there, motionless. Perhaps he is scared that if he moves or speaks, he will scare me off.

I reach for it and wrap my fingers around his cock. The skin is velvety smooth, I pull it towards me whilst opening my mouth and dragging my tongue up the shaft like I’m licking an ice cream.

I see his fingers grip the arms of the chair and the tempo of his breathing quickens.

I lick it again and then again, a third time, giving a little swirl with the tip of my tongue on the bit of stretched skin on the underside of the head. Each time, I’m rewarded with a little whimpering groan.

I grip the base of the shaft with my hand and run my tongue over my lips. My eyes flicker upwards, meeting his gaze. His big brown chocolate eyes bore into me. Without breaking eye contact, I open my mouth and rub the head of his cock against his lips.

Then I swallow.

My mouth slides down his cock until my lips kiss my fingers wrapped around the base of his shaft. I slowly withdraw, sucking it into my mouth as my puckered lips slide upwards. His back arches in response. Hips flex as his cock is sucked into me.

I release his cock from my mouth with a pop and watch, smiling, as he sinks back into the chair. I stick out my tongue and lick his balls. They are almost hairless and every lick elicits more whimpers.

I kiss my way up his shaft. Wet slobbery kisses coating his cock in my drool. My fingers slide up and down, wanking him with a twisting circular motion as I swirl my tongue around the shiny purple head.

His moans are a constant drone now. Little whimpered pleading cries to his deity intersperse the ‘oh fucks.’ I can tell he is close. To be honest, I’m surprised he’s lasting this long.

I suck him into my mouth. I lock my lips and suction them up and down his shaft, my tongue flattening, pressing the underside of his cock as I move at a nice steady pace. His back arches. His whimpers get louder and more high pitched as I suck him deeper into my hot, wet mouth.

My fingers cup his balls, lightly squeezing them as I maintain my rhythm. I feel his balls tighten so I slide my mouth down as far as it can go. His back arches and he presses his cock up into my mouth. I hold him there, waiting, knowing it’s coming. His cock jerks in my mouth and rope after rope of salty cum shoots down my throat.

I slow my movements, slowly drag my lips up his still quivering cock. He slumps back in the chair. The little strangled cries that he gave as he orgasmed turning into pants as he finally remembers to breathe again, dragging the oxygen back into his lungs.

I glance up, worried for a second that it’s been too much for the old man, but he is staring back, grinning from ear to ear.

“By eck, Sophie. That was champion.”

I swallow and stand. Brushing out the creases in my uniform. I blush as the realisation of what I’ve just done hits home.

“I’m.. I’m..” I fluster.

“Don’t worry, pet. Your secret’s safe with me.” He smiles. “Same time next week?”