My wife had died, so I downsized. The insurance had paid off the mortgage on our three-bedroom, two-story home, but it was too much more me, filled with too many memories and such. So, I had a small, 800-square-foot, two-bedroom home built for me up in the woods, with more land than before, and no nearby neighbors. My military pension and VA pension took care of all my needs, so I took an early retirement. I was still relatively young (mid-50s), so starting out anew with no more rat race or office politics was easy to do. It was a little lonely at times, but it was bearable.
About three years on I received a call by my son in the Air Force. He was going on a remote one-year tour and he wondered if his wife could stay with me. They had no kids, her parents were persona non grata for some reason, and this would solve a lot of problems. She wouldn't be alone, they could save on rent for a year, I had the room, and I wouldn't be alone (at least for one year). In short, if I could take care of his wife he'd appreciate it. I agreed, and immediately started getting the second bedroom ready. About a month after his initial visit, she moved in. In her mid-twenties, a little bit chunky, but friendly as all get-out.
It took a little while getting used to having someone else in the house again, but she was more than willing to help out with the cooking, cleaning, handling the firewood and grocery shopping. After a while her dress got a little less formal and I'd occasionally get a downblouse or upblouse view of her as she bent over, or a pokie when she went braless. The occasional hugs seemed to get more frequent. And, of course, with only one bathroom we were bound to have accidental meetings. Getting up in the middle of the night wearing only boxer shorts and a t-shirt, I'd occasionally meet her going to or from the bathroom, with her wearing a short, semi-sheer nightie just barely covering her panties. (Hmm, nice tits and nicer nipples.) We would both go through the "Oops, sorry 'bout that" routine, and continue on. One night, out of habit, I walked into the bathroom in my shorts without checking first, only to find her toweling herself off after a shower. That was a bit embarrassing, but I did get a nice view of her 34Cs and a quick flash of bush. I apologized, backed out, and waited for my hard-on to subside before visiting the bathroom again.
Doing the laundry was initially embarrassing for her, especially when I took her bra and wore it on my head like they did in the movie "Weird Science." She said I was horrid, but she smiled when she said it.