Back in the 1970's a young man named Chip Wilson had a paper route, and while it wasn't all that lucrative the job allowed him to be done working in time to get to school on time. Chip kept the job for several years, even continuing into his early college career until he finally gave it up.
Because he delivered so early he rarely had contact with some people, but there were a few folks who were often waiting at the door for him to arrive, most of them being older folks who lived at the senior apartment building that was part of Chip's route.
One of them, Shirley Brooke, had just moved into the building, and she seemed to take a special interest in Chip, even giving him cookies from time to time when he would deliver the paper. One morning however, as Chip himself tells it here, Mrs. Brooke offered the lad more than baked goods.
***
When I was a kid, I was constantly told that I looked like the boy who played Dennis the Menace on the TV show that was popular in my youth. That wasn't so bad I supposed, but it wore thin after a while because even as I got older, I didn't change much.
At 5'6" and about 120 pounds, I wasn't much different in stature at 18 than I was at 13, and my baby-face and dimples didn't help. My Mom bought me an electric razor once Christmas and it stayed in the box until I was well out of my teens.
I was the kind of kid that aunts and other older ladies loved to fuss over, ruffling my dirty blonde hair and pinching my cheek while clucking over me and telling me what a sweet boy I was.
That wasn't something I cared much for until I got older and started to notice girls. I didn't fare very well with females my age who thought I looked too much like a kid but I soon discovered that there were older women that wanted to do more than pinch my cheek, and to my surprise many of them were pretty sexy in their own ways.
Shirley Brooke was one of those cute ladies, a petite little widowed gal who lived at the senior apartment building I delivered to. To live there you had to be at least 55 but I suspect Mrs. Brooke might closer to 65, with short silver hair and a nice smile, and she also made great chocolate chip cookies.
Originally I thought that she was just a sweet old lady until one morning when I learned that she had what she later referred to as a "naughty" side. Little did she know that compared to her I was downright perverted, proving that you can't judge a book by its cover because she thought I was a choir boy. We found out the truth about each other one Sunday morning in July of 1974.
It wasn't uncommon to catch people coming to their doors wearing their bathrobes, since the apartment house halls were interior and carpeted and looked much like a hotel. Some folks would duck back inside their apartments because they weren't expecting to see somebody out there at about 6 or so, but some didn't and on this particular morning Mrs. Brooke didn't duck back inside.
Instead she stood there smiling and although she was technically wearing the pale blue bathrobe that was draped over her shoulders, it was not cinched together at the waist but was hanging wide open. It was as if Mrs. Brooke had left it wide open for my benefit, and I suppose if I was a gentleman I would have looked away, but I was a horny teenager and what the elderly lady was showing me wasn't bad at all.
Mrs. Brooke had only a baggy pair of beige panties on under that robe, along with tiny white socks that went up to her ankles. Everything else was there for the looking, and I sure did look.
Oh, I glanced at her pale, child-like legs which were pretty shapely with only a couple of veins visible on her thighs and I noted her stomach was flat as well, but what got my attention was Mrs. Brooke's breasts.
Like I said Mrs. Brooke was a petite lady, so when I saw the size of her tits I was stunned. Even though they weren't much bigger than grapefruits they looked enormous on her skinny frame, and while they sagged a little bit they looked plenty good to me.
Her nipples were amazing though; large pebbled crimson areolas with incredibly plump bullets in the centers that looked very suck-able, and although Mrs. Brooke let out a gasp when she saw where my eyes were fixed, her shock sounded fake and she made no effort to close her robe either.
"Morning Chip." she chirped. "You startled me."
"Sorry," I replied, making us both liars, and then I pawed at the carpet and told her she was really pretty.
"Oh, you're sweet honey, but shame on me," she clucked, closing her robe slightly as she spoke.
"No really Mrs. Brooke," I mumbled shyly and then added brazenly and I nodded towards her bosom, "They look like they would be fun to play with."
"Well Chip," she responded, letting her robe open up again for my benefit, "It's too bad that you have to deliver papers or else you could find out for sure."
"I'm almost done," I answered as I sprinted down the hall to drop off the last three papers before hurrying back.
"Done," I announced as I caught my breath.
"Well then come in honey," Mrs. Brooke said as she stepped aside to let me into her place, which was decorated in typical old lady style that reminded me of my grandmother's house.
I was brought into the living room and led to the couch, and after refusing her offer for milk and cookies she sat next to me and patted my bare knee just below my shorts.
"Oh my Chip, you have hairy legs," she noted as she rubbed my calf. "The hair is so blonde I could hardly see it."
"Yes ma'am."
"What grade are you going to be in come fall honey?"
"Freshman ma'am," I replied, not thinking to add that it was college I was talking about because I figured she could tell I wasn't no 9th grader.
"Good for you Chip. I'm sure the girls will be swarming over you pretty soon, as cute as you are," she opined and I shrugged.
"Haven't had much company," Mrs. Brooke noted. "Certainly no gentleman callers, but then again I haven't had any fellows look at me like you did."
"Sorry ma'am," I mumbled.
"Don't be," I was told. "But please called me Shirley. Mrs. Brooke and ma'am make me feel as old as I actually am and I like to consider myself young at heart."
"Okay Shirley."
"Now I did lure you in here for something as I recall," Mrs. Brooke said as she wiggled her upper torso out of her robe. "Too bad you didn't see them when I was your age."
"They look great now," I assured her.
"Haven't you even touched a woman's breasts before? she asked.
"Once my first girlfriend let me put my hands under her blouse," I related. "Hers weren't nearly as big as yours though."
"Well go ahead honey," she offered as she thrust her chest out for me, and I played my part at least in the beginning and pretended I was scared when I tentatively cupped the globes in my palms and squeezed the very pliant flesh tenderly.
