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This story involves an 18 year old girl with a passion for running and her kinky neighbor down the road who loved what the effects an hour's worth of running did to the soon-to-be college freshman. While Brandy Fitzgerald didn't understand the peculiar tastes of the senior citizen she learned to go along with Edgar Ashe because not only was the old fellow cute, he had something the young woman loved.
It was an unlikely pairing of the long and lean blonde and the short squat retired man who was old enough to be the girl's grandfather, because both were normally so reserved and quiet in the real world. In the dusty barn of the Ashe farm however, they were anything but that. Who would have guessed what they were like behind the placid exteriors they showed to the world?
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Edgar Ashe nervously paced around the kitchen, looking up at the clock every few seconds while in the living room his wife of 43 years talked to the blaring TV set where a bunch of women sat around a table and yakked incessantly.
When he thought it was time Edgar wandered through the parlor and passed his wife, who barely noticed him as she chuckled at seeing a gecko selling insurance for the millionth time. As the senior citizen stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him the heat of the day hit him like he had just opened the oven door.
"Don't know how you do it honey," Edgar said aloud as he looked down the road with anticipation, wondering how his young friend could take running in this oppressive heat when it was making him sweat just standing there by the mailbox.
Brandy ran six days a week, skipping only Sundays although sometimes she would sneak out and jog a little even on the Sabbath. Five, six miles or more she would glide down the dusty roads and over the occasional field, her impossibly long legs eating up the distance as the sun beat down on her.
Edgar saw her every day now, even on Sunday when he would put an offering in the basket Brandy brought up and down the aisle at church. They would share a sly wink and a little smile as they played their parts; Edgar the faithful parishioner with his stoic wife by his side and Brandy the dutiful girl who helped seat people and welcomed them to worship.
Today wasn't Sunday though, it was Thursday and the only thing Edgar was thinking about was getting into the barn with Brandy. Who would have thought that the two horniest people in Warren County were neighbors on this back-country road in the middle of nowhere.
"Come on Brandy," Edgar mumbled as he adjusted himself in his farmer jeans, the very thought of his girlfriend making his 65 year old pecker act like it was a kid again.
Talking to himself was something Edgar did quite a bit, especially since living with Martha was like there was nobody there anyway. It didn't used to be like this, Edgar mused. She used to understand him, or at least tolerate him, but those days were long gone.
Martha probably wouldn't even mind all that much what he did out in the barn, as long as it didn't involve him trying to mount her. This might not have been the way Edgar wanted it, but now that it was happening he was loving it and the best part of it was that Brandy not only put up with his eccentricities, she seemed to like his kinky ways.
"There you are - oh Brandy, you're a fine girl," Edgar sang off-key when he caught sight of the object of his lust and affection way down the road.
Brandy was just a tiny speck as she made her way towards the Ashe farm, and as she cut through the field towards their rendezvous Edgar made his way around the house and back to the barn. She was like a preying mantis in a way, all arms and legs, but while she used to look awkward and gangly now she looked graceful as she glided along.
The old rickety barn was hot and dusty, which was the perfect setting for such an indecent meeting. Edgar left the side door open because it would take the girl a few minutes to get there. Brandy would slow her pace and then walk the last part, cooling down a bit and working the kinks out of those gazelle-like legs.
Edgar watched Brandy approach from the barn's dirty side window, her tanned skin shimmering in the sunlight as the sweat poured off of her, and Edgar licked his lips in anticipation of tasting that fresh perspiration.
At 6' tall - maybe a tiny bit more, Brandy had a model's body although not the looks, although Edgar found her plain country girl features attractive. Brandy was built to run, without an ounce of fat on her insanely slender frame, and while her almost complete lack of curves didn't make her desirable to the boys at school they didn't phase Edgar in the least.
As for Brandy, she said she preferred older men anyway although she had only admitted to having two lovers prior to Edgar. One was her Uncle Roy, who according to Brandy paid the girl nocturnal visits every few days. That had been going on for quite a while and while Edgar didn't approve he bit his tongue and appreciated her openess. Besides, according to the girl Edgar was the far superior lover.
Brandy wouldn't say who the other man was that she had sex with, but Edgar suspected it was Father Bryce, the horny old coot. To think that three guys who probably averaged retirement age were lucky enough to get into those tiny blue running shorts was amazing, but Brandy was not a kid. She knew what she liked and while Edgar figured those other two guys weren't nearly as kinky as he was, who knew for sure?
"Hi!" Brandy chirped as she entered the barn and closed the door behind herself, the windows and the gaping spaces between the wall boards making it plenty bright enough for them to see.
"Hi yourself sweetie," Edgar replied as he walked up to the young lady whose body was giving off heat as she undid the headband and let her frizzy strawberry blonde curls down. "How far did you run?"
"About seven miles I think," Brandy said as she kept her arms up, contorting and stretching her shoulders while enjoying the old man's reaction.
"Perfect," Edgar answered as he got up to the lanky teen, his eyes fixed on the deep pockets of her armpits which sparkled with sweat. "You know what that does to me when you do that."
"I do?" Brandy giggled when after kissing the shorter man she watched as Edgar leaned over and put his face under the girl's arm, his talented tongue lapping at the salty and pungent hollow while Brandy squealed with delight.
"Tomorrow's Friday - time to shave again," the girl reminded Edgar as his tongue slid over the tiny patch of peach fuzz that had grown under her arms over the last week.
"Not on my account," Edgar moaned as he orally caressed the little seedlings which were barely visible to the eye although soothing to his tongue.
"Can't be getting all hairy," Brandy cooed as she ran her hand through the old man's scalp, and Edgar chuckled at that since Brandy had so little body hair.
The narrow patches under her arms, a faint dusting on the insides of her wiry calves and a little wisp on the mound of her sex could hardly be considered hairy to Edgar, especially compared to the woman inside the house, but it was all good to the old man.
