An Old Man's Fancybyfurryfan©
The summer of 1970 was the time, and the place was Holland Patent in rural central New York State.
Arthur Connors was a recently retired man of 65 with a lot of time on his hands, and after his wife of 36 years had passed away a couple of years ago, that time seemed to pass more slowly.
Deciding to take up gardening, Art cleared out the area near the fence out back that divided his property from the Miller's spread next door, and began planting tomatoes.
"Who knows?" Art said sarcastically to no one as he looked at the long strip of soil that he was going to use. "Maybe come August I'll be out front with a table full of them, selling the finished product to all the swarms of people traveling on this dusty road. Make me a fortune."
Chapter One: A new friend.
Art hadn't seen the girl approach, so intent was he with his tomato plants, so when the young lady said hello, Art jumped in surprise.
"Hi, Mr. Connors," the neighbor girl had said and then apologised for scaring him.
"No, that's okay," Art said, shielding his eyes from the sun so he could look at the girl. "I was deep in thought about how long it was going to take me to kill these things off. Karen, right?"
"Yeah," the girl said as she leaned her elbows on the old fence.
"Haven't seen much of you lately," Art said. "We used to get a kick out of you and that Anderson boy running around playing soldiers. Where's he at these days?"
"He's in the Air Force," Karen said.
"Air Force?" Art said, trying to figure out why they would take a kid in the service, and then as he looked over at the chubby girl on the other side of the fence, he realized that he must be slipping, because this young lady was no kid anymore.
"Bet you're glad that school's out. What grade are you going into next year?" Art asked, trying not to stare at Karen's body.
"I'm done with school, Mr. Connors," Karen explained. "Graduated last month."
"Oh gee," Art said, taking off his cap and wiping his brow. "Where did the years go? Congratulations. You going to college?"
"Community college," Karen said. "That's all we can afford."
"It'll do for a start."
"Anything is better than hanging around here," Karen said as she looked out over the field at the railroad tracks in the distance. "Nobody is ever around and there's nothing to do."
"That's Holland Patent for you," Art said. "Not exactly a hot bed of activity. Probably why most young folks take off first chance they get. That's why I decided to try and grow tomatoes - just to help pass the time."
"If I'm bothering you or anything, just tell me, okay Mr. Connors?" Karen said.
"No no no!" Art said, a tad too eagerly, but his young neighbor didn't seem to notice, or if she did she didn't care. "Bothering me? Just the opposite. The only thing is, you can't be calling me Mr. Connors any more. After all, you're a woman now. Call me Art, or Arthur."
"Okay - Arthur," Karen said. "I like Arthur better. Sounds very dignified."
"With me knee deep in fertilizer and dirt, that's not easy to pull off, but I'll try," Art said, and as he fiddled with the garden he got to know his neighbor.
Karen was eighteen - just turned, she informed Arthur, and when he asked her if she had a party or anything for her birthday Karen laughed.
"I went down to the store and bought some quarts of Utica Club, and me and Nancy Stoddard went down to the creek and got drunk," Karen explained with a laugh. "She got sick."
Eighteen, Art thought as he stole glimpses at the chubby girl by the fence. If I was 18 I'd be all over that sweet thing before she knew what hit her.
Karen wasn't an stunning beauty by any means, but she had a nice smile and a pleasant face. She was plump, but that wasn't something that had ever bothered him. Alice had been chubby most of her life, and she was a real cutie.
Karen was thick around the middle, but she had a lot in the other places as well. She was a busty young thing, Art observed as he took peeks at the breasts that seemed to be straining the fabric of the checkered blouse Karen wore, and her denim shorts were tight enough to reveal a lush bottom.
Karen's calves were plump as well, but not flabby, and the same could be said for the girl's arms, which were bare up to nearly the shoulder, where the sleeves had been torn off.
Art turned away when Karen's eyes came back in his direction, and he felt like a dirty old man when he realized that he had been mentally undressing the poor girl while she stood there the picture of innocence.
Just before Karen declared that she was going to go up to her house to do some laundry, Art saw something that made him smile. He had been peeking up Karen's ragged sleeve, trying to figure out if she was wearing a bra or not (she was), and as he leered Karen leaned back a little bit while hanging onto the fence.
In doing so, Art was not only given the answer to his wondering about the undergarment situation, but got a brief glimpse at a most luxuriant tuft of hair that filled Karen's armpit.
Not five o'clock shadow or just stubble that would have been the product of not shaving for a few days either, but a thick dense spray of dark brown fur that stood out starkly against the pale white expanse of her underarm. Although the peek was far too brief for his taste it was enough to bring back memories of Alice, and when Art wiped his eyes again it wasn't because of the sweat.
"See ya!" Art had replied when Karen finally turned and walked through her yard towards her house, and as his eyes took in the full buttocks as they swayed with her walk, Art noticed something else that he hadn't experienced in a while.
"Good grief," Arthur mumbled as he reached down to adjust himself in his boxers. "Damn old pervert getting all excited over some hippie girl."
Chapter Two: Daily ritual.
What followed after that first meeting was a daily ritual. Without fail, Karen would come out and join him, chatting over the fence for anywhere between 15 minutes and an hour.
The length of the conversation depended on the weather in part, but it was never long enough to suit Art, who found the young girl's intelligence and frankness a breath of fresh air, and usually managed to stretch out the conversation when Karen was dressed provocatively.
Provocatively might not be the right word, because Karen always dressed modestly and entirely appropriately, but when she wore blouses like that one with the cutoff sleeves, or another one just like it in faded blue denim, Art found a way to keep Karen a bit longer than she might have wanted.
The brief glimpses of the fabric of her bra under the blouse, and those constant peeks at the hair under Karen's arms, never failed to get Art's attention.
He found himself blushing on more than one occassion when Karen seemed to catch him peeking up her sleeve, but she probably figured him to be a harmless old pervert, which was probably correct, or so Art figured by this time.
Maybe not entirely harmless, Art mused as he tried to get his stiff cock to behave in his boxers. Not entirely.
Chapter Three: Rock bottom.
Arthur Connors stood in front of the sink in the dark bathroom, the only sound what his hand made as it moved rapidly up and down the length of his cock. The squishing sound was a result of the Cornhuskers Lotion that he had filled his palm with, in order to lubricate his member.
He hadn't masturbated in years, but after being with Karen out in the yard that day, he found himself unable to sleep, because he couldn't get the image of that precious creature out of his mind, as the way she innocently leaned over the fence kept haunting him.
Karen had been wearing that same checkered blouse with the cutoff sleeves she had worn that first day a couple of weeks ago, but this time she looked different.
Probably because of the heat, Arthur figured, but this morning Karen wasn't wearing a bra under that red and white blouse, and Art could tell right away because her breasts looked even bigger and fuller than usual without the harness they were always shackled in.
Her nipples had been poking at the cotton fabric at one point, and as Art replayed that vision in his mind - sweet innocent Karen brushing the hair away from her cheek and exposing all of her natural beauty to his lecherous eyes without her knowing how he felt, he cried out as his loins tingled, his knees buckling while he leaned against the sink for support.
As his orgasm finally subsided, Art could see in the murky light the wads of his spunk that he had deposited in the sink, and he quickly ran hot water in the bowl and scrubbed it for a long time before pulling his boxers back up and going back to bed.
"I'm sorry, Karen," Art said as he looked out the window at the Miller's house, where that poor innocent thing was unaware of the thoughts that had been going through his head lately, culminating in that display back there in the bathroom.
"Sorry honey," he mumbled again, looking at the dim light in an upstairs room, as if she could have known what he was up to over across the field behind the walls.
Karen's bedroom, Art wondered. What was she doing up there, if it even was her bedroom, that is. Definitely not what he had been up to. Sam and Betty Miller - Karen's folks - what would they have thought about that? Not much. Sam was a Deacon at church.
I can't help it. I'm not a senile old fool who hasn't got a clue as to what was going on around him. Art mused. I'm still a man, a man who is lonely and tired of being alone.
Chapter Four: Early to rise
Arthur went out to the garden early the next day, in part because the temperatures were supposed to be well into the 90's later, and the heat was simply too much for him to take, but the other reason was Karen. The memory of what he did, jerking off like a lovestruck kid while thinking about Karen, made his skin crawl.
What was worse were the other things that had been going through his head - things that he was too ashamed to admit - so maybe missing a few days of Karen's visits would help him clear his mind.
The only problem was that every minute that passed had Arthur glancing back towards the Miller place, hoping to see Karen heading out back. He wanted to see her - needed to see her - and even though the heat was making him light-headed he forced himself to stay outside.
Then, like a prayer answered, there she came, wearing the denim top with the sleeveless ripped off, and even from the distance Art could see that she had no bra on again today. Those big, full breasts were swaying as Karen walked, and by the time Karen reached the fence Art's mind was back in the gutter.
"Early today, huh Arthur?" Karen asked. "I just got out of the shower and peeked out the blinds and saw you out here."
"Yeah, it's the heat," Art said, willing to give anything to have been a fly in her bathroom when she had emerged from the shower. "I knew I wouldn't be able to take it later on, but I'm glad that you saw me and came out. Wouldn't be the same out here without you."
"I'll bet!" Karen said. "I think it's more like, here comes that pain in the butt again."
"No, it's not. It never has been and never will be," Art said, his throat catching a bit as he spoke. "If you stopped coming out to visit, I'll bet half the time I wouldn't bother coming out here at all. You know that, right?"
"You're sweet," Karen said. "And you're right about the heat. It must be close to 90 already, and it's only 10:30. Might go up to a 100 at this rate. Look at me, and I just got out of the shower!"
Karen pulled the light cotton blouse away from her and made it flutter. There were damp spots down the front of her blouse and dark rings around the armholes of her top, and when Karen raised her arms to shake her fingers through her shag haircut, Art saw the hair under her arms was pasted to her skin.
"Sorry," Karen mumbled when she saw Art in a trance and saw where his eyes had been fixated.
"For what?" Art said. "You're beautiful."
"Too much sun for you, Art," Karen giggled. "You must be getting dizzy."
"This is the kind of day to do what you did the day you turned 18," Art suggested. "Get some beer and go down to the creek."
"Want to?" Karen asked, her voice sounding eager.
"I didn't mean with me," Art began to say, but caught himself when he saw Karen's facial expression. "You mean, you would want to?"
"Sure!" Karen said excitedly. "I'll get the beer."
"Wait a minute," Art said. "I can't be having you do that. I'll get it and we can go down around noon."
"Better meet down there," Karen said, looking up at the house. "Mom might think it's kinda weird if we go out back there together. Do you know where there's a little inlet with a big oak tree on the bank? It's about a quarter mile north of here, across from the no trespassing sign by the tracks?"
"I'll find it," Art said. "Noon, right?"
Chapter Five: Hotter than hell.
"Hotter than hell out there," the old lady running the register at the little grocery said as she rang up the four quarts of Utica Club beer Art put on the counter.
"Sure is," Art answered, and hell was probably where he was headed, if there was one.
Thankfully the proprietor of the store was busy at the meat counter or else the nosy bastard would have quizzed Art about buying beer, something he never did. Art wasn't against have a brew at the local tap room, but at home he was content with an bump or two of Old Crow or Jack Daniels from time to time.
The heat was oppressive now, and even though Art had taken a shower before he left the house he was burning up now. although how much of that was because of Karen he did not know.
Arthur worked his way down along the creek, winding his way through the brush for a time until he caught sight of Karen, sitting under the tree on the bank, her feet sitting in the water.
Karen had changed her blouse, much to Art's dismay, but it was probably better that way. Besides, the breezy peach blouse was very attractive, even if the short sleeves and the buttoned front blocked the view.
"Found you," Art said, setting the bags down and easing himself down onto the grassy shade under the tree. "Quiet back here. I never came down here before."
"It's a special place that I take all my men too," Karen giggled.
"Yeah," Karen mumbled as she took the bottles of beer out of the bags and set all but one of them gently in the creek. "Couple times."
"Well, they were lucky guys," Art said.
"They were lucky they got away," Karen suggested.
"You shouldn't do that so much - put yourself down, I mean, I know you're only kidding, but still," Art insisted. "You're a special girl."
"I'm a moo cow," Karen said, reaching into her jeans pocket and pulling out a rusty metal can and bottle opener and waving it. "Always prepared. Want to share each other's back wash?"
"It would be a pleasure," Art said, watching Karen take a long sip from the bottle before handing it over to him. "And you're no cow. You're a very attractive young lady. Way too good looking to be seen with a old goat like me."
"You're not a goat, you're cute," Karen said. "You always reminded me of that guy from The Wizard of Oz - the guy behind the curtain."
"I suppose that's better than being the Scarecrow."
"He was cute too. I feel comfortable around you, Arthur," Karen said. "When I talk, you really listen, and don't just think I'm a dumb kid. I always wish that our conversations would never end."
"That's easy to do," Art replied. "Just don't leave when we're out back and I'll stay out there all day. You're great company and you're smart as a whip."
"I guess I thought that you kinda liked me," Karen said softly, almost inaudibly.
"You thought right," Art said. "You make me wish I was 18 again."
Karen lifted her head up and smiled shyly, and then as Art watched in disbelief he saw Karen's hands come up and slowly unbutton her blouse, all the while watching his face for his reaction.
Karen was wearing a pink tank-top underneath her blouse, and when Karen pulled the outer garment off of her shoulders, it became obvious that the frilly little top left little to the imagination.
Art knew that the loud wheezing was coming from him, but he couldn't help it. Karen's breasts were even larger than he had imagined, the enormous jugs hanging down to her waist, and all of that creamy white flesh that was now exposed made Art light-headed.
"Sometimes I thought I would catch you trying to peek at me under my clothes, looking at me like you thought I was attractive," Karen said.
"I was, and you are."
"I know I'm not - not really - but I liked it when you looked at me that way. You did it in a nice way, not like some men do. Made me tingle all over."
"I never meant to stare. I couldn't help myself."
"I know guys like to look at boobs," Karen said in a matter-of-fact voice. "That's why I didn't wear a bra the last few days. Hoped it would get your attention. Maybe you would figure out that I liked you - a lot."
"With breasts that are spectacular as yours are," Art admitted. "It's hard not to look, but I never dreamed you would think of me as anything but the old guy next door. But to be honest, what first got my attention with you wasn't your bosom. It was this here."
Art tried to keep his hand from shaking as he reached over toward Karen, who was leaning a little backward with her hands holding her upright, and gently stroked the wisp of hairs that were peeking out from the fold of her arm.
"Oh jeez," Karen said, biting her lip and blushing as Art felt his own neck burn. "I know. I can't believe how hairy I am."
"I didn't mean to embarrass you, then or now," Art said. "I know I'm strange that way, but it's just that I always found natural women erotic looking, and long ago when I mentioned to my Alice how much I liked it, she went along with it for me. That's why seeing you so free and natural is special."
"That's how it kind of is with me," Karen said. "Nancy doesn't shave, and when she told me that it turned her on, I let my pit hair grow out to keep her interested."
"Nancy?" Art asked. "The girl you got drunk with on your birthday?"
"Yeah," Karen said with a shrug.
"You mean Nancy and you are - lesbians?"
"Nancy is, for sure," Karen said. "I just like Nancy. We're friends and sometimes lovers when we need each other. I like boys a lot though. More than they like me usually. Are you disgusted knowing that about me?"
"God no. I wish I was your age again," Art said, shaking his head no as his mind pictured the two young girls expressing their love for each other. "Just for one day. Instead of feeling like an old pervert because he was trying to get a girl to drink enough beer to let me kiss her."
"It's been tried back here before," Karen said. "At least when you came back here with me, I knew you liked me."
Art started to lean forward at the same time Karen did, and when their lips met Art's body shivered in response. The kiss started out very sweetly but soon became much more. Karen leaned backward, taking Art with her as they ground into each other while their mouths meshed and their tongues dueled.
"There," Karen said. "You didn't need the beer for that. You kiss nice."
Chapter Six: Nicer.
They kissed again, and after their lips separated Karen was gasping for air. Art leaned over Karen, kissing her moist neck and shoulders, kissing and nibbling around the thin strap of her tank-top while Karen's massive chest heaved wildly.
Art kissed his way up and down Karen's plump shoulder several times until he got the nerve to take her right arm from around his neck and hold it down on the grass above her head. Art took a few seconds to gaze at the wild spray of dark brown hair that practically exploded from under Karen's upraised arm before burying his face in her armpit.