Brett Bixbie is a 55 year old man, widowed for seven years and lives alone in a trailer at the back of his gas station located along the deserted Wackaroo Highway that leads to a big desert. His buddies call him BB for short.
In or out of his marriage, BB never had an affair with any woman. Not that he was so faithful to his wife, who after marriage had given him fewer and fewer sex until it faded into obscurity, but Flingel Bunt, this place where he lives has more Kangaroos than the living souls settled in.
If ever he sees a beautiful woman, it's either she is a tourist, married and travelling with her husband and children or someone attached to a hippie boyfriend out for some adventure in this land that is called ‘The Lonely Continent' or popularly called ‘The Land Down Under' which is Australia.
Here BB cried out of loneliness but he endured. His entertainment has been his radio, and TV, which can show only a few channels. His companions though who give him happiness are his two golden retrievers. His close relatives tend to his sheep in his little farm in Wilming, a far distance away. The income he gets from his farm is what sustains the college education of his only son Tom, who studies in Sydney and whom he sees only once a year.
When BB reached the age of 50, he stumbled upon a copy of Men's Fitness Magazine, which he raved about and began subscribing to it. For five years he followed what the magazine preaches about weight training and all those fitness jazz that now at 55, he had transformed himself from a blubbery hick to a bronze, eye-popping muscled man. Now he looked so much better than when he was 45. Long gone were his bearded face, beer gut, and slouchy demeanor.
One hot summer day, a 4 year old dusty blue Isuzu Amigo driven by a lone woman pulled over his gas station. "Wow!" was the word that blew out from BB's mouth the moment she stepped out of the car.
She was a stunningly pretty woman dressed in a midrib cotton top with jiggling tits and nipples pushing against the light fabric. Obviously she wore no bra. Over her mean leather cowboy boots was a billowing skirt with tiny prints. Her aviator sunglasses were as blue as her car and her long brown tresses were swept up in a ponytail, well-groomed in the front and totally undone in the back—a combination of sleekness and sloppiness but it looks supersexy.
"Good morning Miss!"
"Hi! Full tank please and could you please give a little check on my vehicle here ‘cos I hear funny noises underneath," she said.
"Sure," BB said glancing furtively at her assets. His bronze body was exhibited by white tank top with deep scoop neck that shows his well-carved chest. He could easily be a candidate to appear on the cover of Men's Fitness' Prime, the magazine that cater for the men aged 40 and above.
The pretty woman glanced at his tight butt underneath the well-worn Levi's jeans as he plunged the nozzle into the gas chamber. Cute. After completing the task he gathered some tools and the roller that he uses when he checks under the vehicle. She moved closer as his body rolled in and she could see the outline of his he-man cock bulging on the inner side of his jeans. He reminded her of Richard Gere because of his white hair and a fleeting resemblance to Jack Scalia. Then she excused herself to go to the john.
After about 5 minutes, BB emerged. "Just some loose parts and I've fixed them," he said as she stood watching him.
As he was about to rise up, the wind blew her skirt up giving a quick flash of her shapely legs and a bit of her white skimpy panties. Immediately his two golden retrievers walked up to her and sniffed her crotch.
"Hey, guys cut that out!" he yelled.
She giggled. "Cute dogs!" she exclaimed tapping their heads without fear
"Where you heading?" he said squinting and cocking his head to her probable destination.
"East," she answered.
"Hot, isn't it?"
