The first time I saw Becky, I was checking my mailbox to see if my Social Security check had arrived.
I was wanting to see how much it was, I had taken early retirement at age 62 and now at 65 I had to do the Medicare crap. I had been buried for months with ads from every company in the world, a confusing mess of sign up between such and such date or pay more, don't miss the "window", good grief.
It took me quite a long time to realize that nearly all of them were exactly the same, the only difference was the price. Of course some of it came out of my monthly check, and not trusting the government at all I was wanting to see my check to see how badly they had fucked up the works.
I must have gotten at least 50 different letters and booklets encouraging me to use direct deposit, like sure I would do that. Sure as hell some fucker in Nigeria would end up with my check, fuck that. Send me the money, put it in my hand, that's the right way to do it.
The envelope arrived, I was just opening it when my newspaper sailed by my head. It would have taken my hat off my head if I had a hat on.
"Oh! I am sorry, I didn't see you until it was too late!" She said, sliding her bike to a stop right in front of me.
I looked at her and blinked, she had red hair tied back in a ponytail, a tight pair of shorts on and a halter top. The top was low enough that quite an expanse of freckled covered breasts were showing, even leaned forward her stomach was flat as a board, and if the shorts were any tighter she would have split them.
"You missed me, it's OK. Where is Tim?" I asked.
"Tim went to college, I have the route now." She flashed a big smile and hopped up on the bike, heading off down the street, pitching newspapers as she went.
"I'm Becky!" She yelled over her shoulder, too late for me to answer.
I watched her behind work as she moved out of sight, then I realized I had a rare hardon, that was quite a vision.
I turned to go back inside, not wanting old lady Johnson that lived next door to come out and see me with a bump in my jeans from staring at some young stuff.
Old lady Johnson seemed to make it a habit of meeting me at my mailbox, too. I don't know why I called her that, her name was Harriet and she was 6 years younger than me. Maybe the white hair, I guess. She was actually a bit of a pain in the ass, she seemed to delight in timing it so she caught me at the mailbox, then we had to talk about the weather and the trees and this and that. I would try to turn away, she would cut me off and ask some more questions, no end to it.
Plus she always had that monstrous housecoat on. I glanced up at her house, saw the curtains close, I knew she was watching.
Great, now she probably thought I was an old pervert, standing there staring at that sweet young ass peddling away.
I sighed, went back inside. I just couldn't handle Harriet. About the only time I ever saw her wearing anything but that damned ugly housecoat was when she would lay out in the back yard in her bathing suit sunning on hot days.
She had a one piece suit that from the looks of things she had to pour her oversize body into. Harriet had a big pair of knockers the top of her suit mashed, and her legs were pretty big, too.
I didn't pay much attention to her, besides, to see into her yard I had to stand on tiptoe at my upstairs window and after about 15 minutes of that my legs would hurt. I got a three legged stool and that helped but I had to be careful, I didn't want to fall off of it and break a hip or something.
So seeing a vision like that Becky coming down the street just made my day.
My check was just fine, I went into the bathroom and sat there yanking on my six incher, thinking of the way those ass muscles moved and the neat look of that huge expanse of freckled titties I had just seen.
It's hell to be old and still virile, when the wife of 40 years is long gone and there just is no other outlet.
I sat back in my chair, clicked on a court TV show and caught a nice nap.
The next morning I was peeking out my window, hoping to get another look. Right on time, here she came, I headed out to my mailbox just as she slid to a stop.
"Hi, sir!" she smiled great big at me like she was tickled to see me.
"You can call me Dan." I gave her my best smile. I had just showered and brushed my teeth, my hair was combed nicely, what there was of it. I knew the goop I had put on my hair hid any sign of gray.
"Hi, Becky! You look nice today!" I told her. If anything she had even more skin showing today than she had the day before.
"Thank you." She smiled, batting her eyes. Then it changed to a grin when she saw that there was no way in hell I could keep my eyes off her cleavage. Her cleavage was really helped a lot by the way she leaned forward with her hands on the handlebars.
"Well, back to work." She took off, standing up on the pegs, giving me a clear shot of her crotch as she moved away.
I made my poor pecker a little bit sore that time as soon as I got inside. I had also seen the curtains over at old lady Johnson's house move closed again as I glanced up.
I was back out there the next day, this was getting to be the high point of my daily life. I was looking down the street to see if Becky was coming when old lady Johnson walked up behind me.
She had on that horrid housecoat, too.
"Good morning, Dan. Looking for something?"
Hell, I had been standing out there for a solid 15 minutes, plus I had a partial woody going in anticipation.
"Hello, Harriet." I said, just as Becky turned the corner. She was spectacular this morning, the top she had on was yellow and thin, I could see the bumps her nipples made in the cloth, plus instead of shorts she had on a matching yellow bikini bottom. I was wishing that Mrs. Johnson would go the fuck away.
