Kenny Shea loved his grandmother dearly, which is why he often rode his bike across town to do chores and things the widowed senior citizen could no longer handle easily. That was how he ended up painting her garage during the recess between semesters at college, and while it wasn't really something Kenny was particularly good at or enjoyed doing, he did it for Grandma.
One thing that annoyed Kenny about his grandmother, perhaps the only thing, was the fact that she tended to blurt out things without thinking, and that was something Kenny and the rest of the family noticed Grandma Sophie doing more often as she aged.
Usually it was just something inappropriate or goofy, things that could be laughed off or dismissed with a shake of the head, but every once in a while Sophie would cross the line, and that was what occurred on the day Kenny came over to paint.
As Kenny himself recalls...
***
"I should have my head examined," I muttered to no one as I climbed up the ladder with the can of paint and then set it on the shelf of the shaky ladder, a device that was probably as old as my grandmother.
The only saving grace was that it wasn't all that high a climb to reach most of the structure, because I was none too fond of heights.
I started early in hopes of getting it done in one day, and if I could beat the afternoon heat that would also be good so I worked diligently, so much so that the sound of a woman's voice below startled me.
"Oh, hello Mrs. Roarke," I said as I looked down at my grandmother's next door neighbor who had apparently been on her way to visit her, a lady I had been introduced to recently and who had befriended my grandmother.
"Sophie doesn't know how lucky she is, having a grandson like you to do these things for her. I'd like to borrow you myself some day because I hate to paint."
At the time I was thinking something like me not really wanting to be doing this even for my own grandmother let alone every widow on the block, but when I looked down at the woman the interruption became a lot more tolerable.
"Grandma keeps me busy enough most times," I offered as the woman looked up at me, her arm raised to shield her eyes from the sun, an action that made her look very interesting to me.
"So I've noticed Kenny," the lady chuckled, and I set the brush down to lean my elbow on the top step, wanting to keep the lady chatting for as long as I could.
By the time Mrs. Roarke finally excused herself, I was in the process of working up a sweat and it wasn't just from the heat either. Mrs. Roarke had caused that perspiration along with the uncomfortable crowding that was going on in my underwear.
I decided to take a break at that point, needing to relieve myself as well as rearranging things down there, so I slipped in the house while Grandma had the TV blasting, locked the bathroom down behind me and dropped my shirts and briefs.
"I definitely need a girlfriend," I muttered while trying to get my semi-erect dick to point into the bowl, because it was a little weird to be getting aroused by a woman three times my age at least.
Mrs. Roarke was old I supposed, but not as old as my 70 year old grandmother, and however old she was, I had observed she was still good looking. Perhaps the lady was carrying a couple extra pounds but she was solidly built, as her nicely toned arms and legs attested to.
I had seen the woman a couple times before, but not like this. Mrs. Roarke was dressed for the warm weather with shorts and a sleeveless blouse, and the fact that today the woman was not wearing a bra was obvious since her full breasts had settled down near her waist.
The sight of her nipples against the fabric of her blouse was nice, but what had gotten and kept my attention was under her nicely toned upraised arm, a rich spray of dark brown hair that contrasted greatly with the silver on her head. That wasn't something you saw very often those days to my dismay, because I guess I have a thing for it, and my grandmother's neighbor being a little up in years had no effect on me.
After I got done peeing I washed my hands and tried to get past my grandmother and back outside, but she had abandoned the Jerry Springer show to get another cup of tea and caught me passing through.
I managed to deflect the offer of lunch, saying no to a "nice sandwich", a "nice salad" or a "nice bowl of soup", but instead got myself a drink of water and prepared to go back to painting.
"Your neighbor wants me to do some painting for her," I mentioned casually on my way outside. "This could be the start of a lucrative business for me."
"Oh, that Ruthie!" Grandma exclaimed, inadvertently answering the question about her first name.
"I think she was just kidding," I told my grandmother.
"Well don't you think you need to do anything for her on my account," Grandma said.
"I know, but I feel bad for folks on their own" I replied. "She's a widow too, isn't she?"
"Yes, but still - she's only 59 so she can do things herself," Grandma noted. "I shouldn't say that because I could probably paint that garage of mine myself but..."
"Nonsense."
"Of course, all Ruth would have to do is wink and fellas would be running there with paint brushes," Grandma informed me. "And I think she does her share of winking too."
"Is that right? Well, she is a good looking lady," I said.
"Half the time she doesn't wear a brassiere," Grandma mentioned. "This from a woman almost 60 and with a bosom the size she has? Ruth thinks she's still a hippie."
"I didn't notice that," I lied, and then made the mistake of saying, "I did notice the hair under her arms though."
"How could you miss it?" Grandma noted with a shake of the head. "What kind of a lady lets the world see something like that?"
"Hey, I think it's kind of sexy on some women," I said before going back outside.
The painting seemed to be taking forever, and the way the thirsty wood was lapping up the paint made me think that I would have to put another coat on the garage, not something I was looking forward too.
Mrs. Roarke came out of her back door and headed to Grandma's rear entrance, giving me a wave that was much too brief, and after I finished the side of the garage I was working on I decided to go inside for another drink.
Okay, I wasn't so much thirsty as feeling the need to socialize with my grandmother's friend while checking her out some more, but when I entered the kitchen and saw Ruth and my grandmother sitting at the table, I had a bad feeling. It was a feeling that told me that I had interrupted a conversation in which I was the subject.
Mrs. Roarke's facial expression was only a little telling, with the hint of amusement in the corners of her mouth, but my grandmother was clearly ready to spill the beans.
"You know Kenny, don't you Ruth?" Grandma began, and without waiting for a reply she went off on one of her tangents. "Kenny here is a big fan of yours. Thinks you're sexy. That's what he told me before."
"Grandma?" I whined, trying in vain to cut her off.
