When I was 8 years old I walked to and from primary school. Starting at 9am and finishing at 3.30 pm. My route home was varied although I walked the same way everyday. By varied I mean, very posh and wealthy homes by my school, then over a railway bridge, then past a prison, then a massive bridge over a disused railway line, then through a park and finally an entry [or back passage way] behind homes for bin men to collect rubbish. The entry was full of rubbish, litter, tramps, stray dogs, dog muck, old wood with nails sticking out and an uneven cobbled surface. To say it took half an hour to get home was a good day.
Then a development took place which made the journey home take even longer. Outside one of the posh houses just opposite school, an older woman with a big chest and in those days she wore a pointy style bra above her rather fat mid section would stop me. Even at 8 years I looked at her impressive chest which seemed to annoy her. She tended to wear an all in one green dress most days. She stood at her gate waiting for a poor kid to grab. Out of the blue for the first time she grabbed me by the ear.
"Go to the shop for me and buy me today's Bugle newspaper, quickly before they sell out and dont mess about or go missing as I will tell your school." She said.
So it became everyday for months and eventually years that i was collared by her to go to the shops, in the opposite direction from home which added another 15 minutes on to my journey to walk home. She never told me her name, why she didnt go to the shop herself or ever say thank you. It remained lodged in my head as a bad memory. Time passed...
One day I was out shopping with my family around 3pm on a Saturday when I notice my wife talking to an elderly lady. The elderly lady had the 1950's style pointy boobs obviously in an old fashioned brassier. The type of bra now known as a Rodeo Bra; because it rounds them up and points them in the right direction.
Just the same way as when I was 8 years old, I was looking at her chest and looked up at her face and recognised her. Unbelievably it was the nasty old cow who kept sending me after school to buy the Bugle newspaper. My wife had been helping her get food items from the high shelves as she is tall for a girl. The older woman did not recognise me as I studied her face twenty plus years after my school days. She had hardly changed, now in her early 60's I realised she must have been in her 40's when l did the newspaper run.
Afterwards Oxana, my wife told me that the older lady was Olga Cumudgeon, who had been good friends with Oxana's Mum; Svetlana. Yes they were of Russian descent, whose families came to Britain as aristocracy escaping Bolshevik killings and reprisals in the nineteen twenties.
Once the Tsar had been deposed an interim Duma or parliament was introduced under a chap called Kerensky. He was leader of Russia but because he didnt take Russia out of the First World War a second revolution took place, the October Revolution when Lenin and the Bolsheviks took control of Russia. Kerensky came to Britain with the familes of Svetlana and Olga. He later opened a chip shop; a far cry compared to being the Leader of Russia.
Anyway back to my story. Oxana, Svetlana and Olga kept in touch with each other after re-meeting each other in Morrisions. It came out that Olga's husband had Altzeimers Disease affecting his memory when I was at school. Which was why she was unable to leave him alone and why she made me go to the newsagent so often. She was also sad about her partners health which was why l never got a thank you, conversation or name from her.
After a few months Oxana told me that Olga's husband was not dead, but actually in a nursing home. He was so ill in the head he thought he was a child. He called for his Mum, he pissed or shit wherever he was stood when the urge came. He did not recognise Olga his wife of 34 years. This greatly upset her but she did visit him often to check he was ok.
Quite a sad situation for her really. Oxana tried to improve Olga's mood by suggesting I could paint the ceilings in her house to brighten the house up.
I was a bit fed up because I had no say in being volunteered to work for free for a grumpy old lady. And what is worse is that she had got up my nose by forcing me to do all trips to the newsagent when I was a kid.
I started work on Monday, Olga was quite rude not chatting or offering any refreshments. I did notice one thing when I arrived early one day Olga hadn't put her teeth in. Yes she was toothless.
"Oh!" She said out of embarrassment. "Just a minute" she said as she disappeared with her false teeth in a glass. When she returned her face looked much fatter. Her teeth were back in.
"Yes" said Olga "I had my teeth sorted by the incredible NHS. With no charge. One reason why we all like Britain. You know?" Olga said. "I think I've seen you before you look familiar."
"Well, I did not want to bring this up?" I said. "But you used to send me to the newsagent every day for years. Literally years to buy you the Bugle! I hated you for it. I wanted to go home and watch Blue Peter with John Noakes and Shep the collie. But I missed it 'cos of you."
Olga went quiet then said, "Oh yes I remember now. I am very sorry but I needed that help at the time. I could not leave my husband or he would go missing!"
To which I answered;
"You never explained that, or told me your name and you never once said thanks."
With that I went up the step ladder with a paint brush in one hand and the paint in a tin the other hand. I started painting in the corner doing the tricky edges when I felt something touch the front of my trousers.
I looked down and saw Olga lower my fly zip.
"What are you doing Olga?" I said.
"Well I considered what you said, and I am sorry about what I did to you as a child. So I thought how I can say thank you now for what you did then."
She reached in my trousers and hit my underpants.
"Wooow stop what are you doing" I said. I went to grab her but my hands were full. She ignored me and I felt my underpants being slid to one side.
"No please don't do that" I said. As I was at the top of the 3 step ladder, my crotch was at head height for Olga. I saw her pull my soft but medium sized cock out of my pants.
"Oh you have a nice cock, indeed. A perfect size for sucking."
"What?" I said. I had not had much fun with getting my knob sucked as previous girlfriends and my wife were no good at it. Even so I did not fancy a gray haired unsexy old girl getting my knob out. She was going against my wishes but what could I do.
I felt my pants being undone and with my underpants Olga pulled them down to my knees.
