'Morning Doris. How are you today?'
'Hi, Mikey. I can't complain, especially at my age.
'Get away, still, plenty of life in you yet. You need to get yourself a fella, perhaps a toyboy.
'What are you doing this afternoon? She asked.
This was how it went each time I dropped off her shopping. I had been out of work and looking for a job when the pandemic hit. Suddenly everyone was shopping online, and the supermarkets were crying out for delivery drivers. I applied, and much to my surprise got one of the jobs.
That was nearly eighteen months ago now. I have a regular round, take one or two deliveries, with nearly always the same customers each day, week in and week out.
Doris was one of my regulars, now in her late sixties, and a game old bird with a wicked sense of humour. I'm a bit of a joker myself, a Cheeky Chappy with the gift of the gab, quick-witted, and with a love of taking the most innocuous of remarks and making them sound rude.
Carrying the crates to her front door, I asked, 'Where would you like it, Doris.'
She stopped, turned around with a glint in her eyes, stared at the bannister, and then raised them to the bedrooms above. 'You'd better leave that shopping in the kitchen first, though.'
I had to laugh; this was what I loved about her; she gave as good as she got. Carrying her shopping through to the kitchen, I plonked it on the counter. 'Take your time Doris, no rush.'
I was on a tight schedule, but the next delivery was only around the corner. I liked to spend a few minutes, sometimes as many as five or ten. For people like Doris, I was the only friendly face they may see for the next few days.
'Do you want a brew?' She asked.
'I can manage a quicky.'
'I don't do quickies; I like it nice and slow.' See, we were off again. This was how our conversations went, each time I delivered groceries to her home. She loved it, giving her a sense that despite her age, she was still a woman.
Now I'm not being mean, and in her day, she may have been a looker, but now she was just a lonely old lady, albeit one with a wicked sense of humour.
A few quick slurps from my cup of tea and it was time to be on my way. 'See you next week, Doris. Don't do anything I wouldn't.' I stopped for a moment and pulled a face. 'That pretty much means you can do anything you want, although only one toyboy at a time.'
We laughed loudly and then I was on my way to my next delivery. I had a lot like Doris, pensioners who had lost their husbands, as well as mature women, married, and single. All they wanted was a smile, a bit of banter, and company for five minutes.
Why am I telling you all of this, you may ask? Well, it's to give you a sense of how most of my days were spent each week; that was until something happened to change it.
The start of a new week and I was checking my schedule, surprised to find that Doris was a seven-thirty morning delivery. In the past, it had always been about ten o'clock...ish. Had she changed it, or had the scheduler cocked up? Oh well, nothing I can do. I'm only the delivery driver.
Arriving at her home, I'd had to knock several times until finally, she answered it in her dressing gown.
'Morning Doris. Sorry to disturb you. The toyboy still in bed?'
'No! He's delivering my shopping. But I thought I'd dress appropriately just in case.
'I gave her a dazzling smile; she really did make my day and as was my normal practice, I carried the crates through and placed them on her kitchen counter.
It was the potato's fault. As she lifted the bag, it split, the contents bouncing and rolling across the tiled floor. It was just a natural reaction as we both bent at the knees and went down to try and capture them. Unfortunately, to my surprise and Doris's embarrassment, her dressing gown chose that moment to spring open.
You can imagine my shock, there I was, squatting down, knees apart, and facing an old lady doing the same, only now, everything she had got, was on display. I had no way of knowing if she had slept in the nude or if she had been about to get dressed when I knocked and had just grabbed her robe. Whichever it was, I was staring at her naked body.
Now, I'm going to be honest. Face, arms, and legs, all said, old woman. But between her slightly wrinkled neck and the top of her cellulite thighs, was a good body. It wasn't just my eyes that thought so, the appendage between my legs thought the same as it began to stir and expand. Her breasts despite them heading south, were ample, with the skin appearing to be smooth and soft. Each one had a dark areola topped with a substantial nipple which was starting to grow and become erect. Yes, she had a belly, one which creased because of the way she was squatting. But below that was a slightly puffy mound, sparsely covered, and then her pussy, the lips hanging down and slightly open.
Doris stared at me, or more specifically, my groin, and I stared at her nakedness until our eyes met and my manners kicked in.
'I'm so sorry Doris.' I immediately stood and turned my back to her.
'Well, the least you can do now that I've given you a free look, is help me up.'
Turning, I got another view of her body as I proffered my hand and helped her stand before, much to my disappointment, she covered herself.
I couldn't help it, apologising profusely.
'Mikey, Mikey. It wasn't your fault. It was just an accident. Anyway, you have just made my day. I can't remember the last time a man looked at me like that...... or had that reaction.' She laughed as her eyes went to my groin and then back to my face. 'Especially a young fella like you. Perhaps I should consider your suggestion and get myself a toyboy.
