Caring Carer

I had started a job as a Resident Registered Child Carer in a care home for homeless or orphaned kids, aged 11 to 15. These kids, considered adults at 16, had to leave whether they had anywhere to live or not.

**I was 43 and divorced with two grown up sons, living on my own in a comfortable flat in the city. I had always wanted to be involved with youngsters in some way and when a vacancy opened up for a Carer, I jumped at the chance. After police and reference checks, I started work three weeks after my final interview.**

Having found my way around the home, I settled in very quickly, getting to know the boys and girls, and starting to make friends with both them and the rest of the staff. My duties were all encompassing, from helping to keep rooms tidy, preparing meals to being ‘father confessor’ to the kids. Mostly my hours were day time based so my evenings and nights were my own. I did have optional days off, to go back to my own home, but could work them instead so earning more money.
Within a couple of weeks of being there, I was already having several girls, and boys, coming with small problems on which they wanted advice or help. This could happen at any time of the day or night as, having my own room in the home, I was to all intents and purpose, on call 24/7.

There were several of the young girls which really drew my attention; nubile, vulnerable, sad and with little hope of any real future. My heart went out to them in particular, and at times, so did my penis, seeing them in their rooms, escorting them into town dressed in short skirts and tank tops when we went into town to do some shopping, even having to accompany some of the more difficult ones to the showers! These youngsters were effectively at my beck and call, just as much as I was to them.
I quickly realised that I could have a lot of influence and power here, making myself available day or night to them. I let it be know that they could come and see me at any time, even when I was off duty, all they had to do was come to my room, I would be there for them. It was not permitted for staff to have any child in his/her room at any time, so I had to carefully arrange that the kids could come and see me, when they wanted to.

The response was not what I had expected – I suddenly had several of them all descending on me at the same time but organising a form of rota and system I was able to arrange that any of them was able to see me more or less whenever they wanted. Several became regular visitors, sneaking into my room after ‘lights out’ and sitting on the edge of my bed, pouring out their little hearts and looking for solace.

Initially, I was the ‘carer’, trying to understand their problems or concerns and giving them the best advice I could, occasionally having (?) to give a hug or cuddle of reassurance or comfort.
Not only did I enjoy having them wrapped in my arms or sitting on my knee, but it seemed to give them comfort and confidence, not just in themselves, but in me too.