The setting is England, in the early summer of 1975, I had just turned eighteen. My grandma, Lucy, my mother's mother, had moved from her first floor flat to an old peoples' bungalow. It was much smaller than the flat she had and there were no stairs for her to climb.
She was a tiny, wiry woman, in her late seventies. She'd had a hard life and had to work very hard for the best part of it. I loved her dearly. So when my mum asked if I would help keep her garden tidy for her, I readily agreed.
I'll try and set the scene. The bungalows were arranged in pairs, built from red brick. To the front there was access to all the bungalows from an access footpath. The footpath started at the main road. It was straight and it was a dead end. As you walked down the path, there was a tall hawthorn hedge all the way down the left hand side and a low privet hedge, interspersed with gates, down the right hand side. The last gate was the gate of my grandma's bungalow. She had the leftmost bungalow and her neighbour, May, lived in the other. The only people that walked to the very end of the path were people needing to go to the last two bungalows. There were no passers-by. The bungalow wasn't overlooked by anyone.
The other side of the gate, as you went through it, was a path that led down the left hand hand side of a rectangular front garden and then the path turned at right angles as you reached the bungalow. You could then walk to the far right hand side of the building. Where the two bungalows joined there was a porch, at the back of the porch were the kitchen windows. To the left and right of the porch were the front doors of the respective bungalows.
The path carried on across the front elevation and turned at right angles again when it got to the far right hand side of the bungalows and then carried on down the side elevation to the the back. There was another garden at the back, the back gardens backed on to a quiet road. The bedrooms were at the back.
They had been built so that the front elevation was south facing. Each occupant had one of the gardens, my grandma's was the front garden, May had the north facing back garden. There was no porch at the back, just a wall with bathroom and bedroom windows.
Because the porch was south facing it was pleasant to sit there, it was a sun trap, warm if the sun was out, even if there was a chill breeze. If it rained you were sheltered from getting wet. Perfect for old biddies to sit and gossip!
My mum was in the habit of taking my grandma shopping in the city on Saturdays. It was arranged that the coming Saturday she would drop me off and pick me up when they returned. I'd be dropped off just before lunch and could be picked up when they returned, around 5pm. If I was done before then I could make my own way back, it wasn't too far to walk.
I had no idea what to expect. I'd put a spade, garden fork and a trowel in the car and my grandma had one of those push lawn mowers, hedge shears and a brush etc. I'd be fine. When I got there the front garden was just a lawn with a low privet hedge all round, that was it. I thought I'd be done in less than an hour, trim the hedge, cut the grass, job done, but no.
She came out to tell me what she thought of the shit boring patch of grass. Not her exact words but that's what she meant. She asked if I could create a border all the way around, leaving a short gap in the border opposite the middle of the porch to serve as a path.
The border could be straight edged or wavy, she didn't mind, whatever was easier both to make and maintain. In the centre she wanted a bed cutting out of the lawn where she wanted a standard rose and rose bushes planting. The border she'd want me to fill with bedding plants, dahlias and fuchsias etc. but the planting of that and the rose bed could wait until next time.
This was going to take me all afternoon. The way she was gazing up at me smiling with her watery blue, tired old eyes, I couldn't refuse.
"No problem." I said, hugging her with one arm.
It was a hot day so I stripped off my shirt and set to work, I trimmed the privet and cleared up the cuttings. I mowed the l lawn. I then set to cutting off strips of turf. I shook and bashed as much of the soil off as I could and then loosened the soil where it had been. Then I stacked the turves at the end of the outside path, for my dad or the council to take away.
The door to the other bungalow opened and May came out carrying a dining chair.
"Hello young man, I'm May, I live in this one."
"Hello, I'm David, Lucy's grandson."
"Yes, she told me you were coming to do her garden. She said you'd be coming regularly to get on top of it."
"That's the plan, weather permitting."
"She also said you were a strapping, handsome young man. I'd like a young man to come regularly and get on top for me." she said with a grin and a glint in her eye.
"Pack it in." I said smiling.
There was a lot of that sort of humour and innuendo around in the UK in the seventies. Sitcoms on TV, other comedy shows like Benny Hill, the 'Carry On...' film series and seaside postcards. So I just put it down to that.
Come to think of it she could have been a model for a seaside post card. On those, younger women were all 'dolly birds' and older women, like May, were large, buxom, permed, fat-arsed ladies.
She was large, not humungously so, but I wouldn't want to her to sit on me. Having had that thought, her sitting on my chest, my dirty mind then wandered to her sitting on my face. I was a horny young sod, my grandma didn't tell her that, because she didn't know.
"You're not going to get any work done staring at these." said May, her arm under her bosom, jiggling them.
Fuck, is that what I was doing while I was thinking?
"Er, sorry, I wasn't, I mean, I didn't mean to, I was miles away, thinking of what I'm I'm doing next."
She just smiled at me, she wasn't bothered, "You look all hot and sweaty, would you like a drink?"
Was she being suggestive or did she mean it literally? She still had her forearm under her boobs, raising them.
"Yes please, I think my grandma locked her door, a glass of water would fine, thank you."
"No problem." she said, and raised her wobbly bulk off the chair to get the water, I sat down cross-legged on the lawn. In front of her chair.
She came back, putting a fan and a cup of tea for her on the small table that was beside her chair. She went back in and came out with the water for me. It was a full pint glass. She bent down to pass it to me and I could see down her sun dress, her very large, heavy breasts swaying slowly, not supported very well by her industrial-looking bra.
"Just take a few minutes to cool down and have a rest," she said, "its a lovely day."
"Thanks."
She sat back down on her chair. Her legs were parted a bit, but I didn't try to look between them, not after being caught staring at her tits.
She had a homely face, a ruddy complexion, like she'd spent a lot of time outdoors. Her hair was in rollers with a head scarf covering her head so I couldn't say much about her hair.
When I took a sip of water I realised that because the glass was so large it would be impossible for her to tell exactly where I was looking, so I looked. Her legs were parted enough such that her meaty thighs didn't touch. The sun dress was flimsy and let a fair amount of sunlight through, so her white granny knickers were clear to see.
