Pain in the Ass

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The day I got called into the office and told about the “Corporate Downsizing” was a shock to my system.

Sure, the economy was in the toilet and I understood that, but who expects to be laid off when they are one of the very best analysts for their firm?

At age 21 I pretty much had it made. Then it wasn’t long and here came computers, I was one of those that it all made perfect sense to so I was paid more than most people would believe.

Just as I was getting downright cocky about my life I made that mistake and crashed a perfectly good brand new Corvette.

I was nearly 35 before I finally got rid of the wheelchair full time. By then the world was full of young people who knew far more than me, so I found work as an analyst. The pay was not too bad though.

At age 55 I pretty much had it made again. Nice pension coming up, retire at 65, draw my Social Security.

At 60 I was out the door.

Of course the company invested the pension fund (insert “stole” where it fits.) Of course they invested nearly all of it in their own company stock.

No point in explaining what happened except management got bonuses.

The house and six acres I made payments on for 20 long years sold, but for half what I had figured.

The taxes alone were taking nearly half of what my Social Security was going to be at 65.

And going up.

Of course.

Then the “12 months” paid medical ran out, the company now paid just half until I turned 65 then I got to go on Medicare.

Which would come out of the Social Security check.

I had missed that clause in the company contract.

Yep, my own fault there.

I was a very good analyst, but I should have been analyzing my own situation.

Hell with it, at 62 I took early retirement, got rid of my big diesel crew cab Dodge and bought a Kia.

The little two bedroom house at the end of a short street with one of those turn around places at the end was cute. What do they call those, cul de sacs?

The house took all of my money except for maybe 10 grand. The bank offered me .50% interest, with a 10% penalty for early withdrawal. I just stuck it in my checking account.

The part that really pissed me off was my little place outside of town, I had bought it planning on developing, what the hell, make a few bucks and I saw the city was getting closer and closer anyway.

Nope. Exclusive Farm use, government told me. Damn near had to have a permit to cut the fucking grass! Hell, my old place had trees and I couldn’t touch them, instead I packed bags of those little pellets for heat.

I took the Kia for a drive on my 64th birthday, I wanted to see the old place that had been home to me and my late wife for over two decades.

Fucking earth movers! Trees hacked down, piled up everywhere. The six acres was blocked off into 100 feet by 100 feet lots, it was going to end up looking just like the fucking place I had to move to!

I had some choice words on the way home that day for some of the folks in local government, let me tell you. Some County Commissioner apparently had a brother in law that was a developer, the developer had a couple of buddies on the planning commission, and I ended up getting hosed.

I admit I thought about getting myself on the national news, but being reasonably mellow I just went on with my life.

So with a pension less than half of what I expected, Social Security less than I had planned, and no real money in the bank, I was resigned to just getting by.

I had food, a roof, and if I got sick government would pay 80% of it, even that wasn’t looking like a sure thing since the news was full of stories about government being owned by China.

I bought one of those medical policies to cover the other 20%, finding that it cost more than the 80% part did.

Sorry to bore you, but that is how I ended up living alone in a tiny little house on the Oregon coast.

I had not yet met the lady Doctor I am now married to, some of you have read a few of my stories about Debra.

This one I wasn’t even going to write, but one evening I told the story to Debs and she got to giggling and insisted I write it, so here it is.

You see, I had a neighbor. Her name was Sharon Johnson.


It was raining like a Cow pissing on a flat rock the day I saw Sharon Johnson the first time. She had white hair and looked old to me, but by then I guess I maybe looked old to her, too.

I was inside, crabby because of the rain, since out front sat the rented U-haul with what was left of my world.

Which I wanted inside so I could take the truck back and not have to pay the $73.80 rent for an extra day.

I did have the couch and TV inside, and was watching the news.

Bang bang bang on my fucking door, I got up and opened it, here stood an old lady, soaked to the skin. She had a tray of something, waxed paper over the top of it, water running off the side of the platter.

When I said it was raining, I meant it, this is the Oregon coast.

“Welcome to the aydınlı escort neighborhood!” She said, shoving the platter at me. Water ran off the edge of it and onto the front of my shirt. I took it by instinct.

Looking past her, it was raining so hard I couldn’t see the other side of the street.

“Come on in.” I told her, stepping aside. That was when I noticed she was barefoot? People that live on the Oregon coast are all crazy, nobody has an umbrella and they all act unhappy it they aren’t wet.

She came in, spotted the fire I had going in my wood stove. With real honest to God wood, not those stupid little pellets.

That was one of my lucky breaks, our Governor Kulongowski had not yet made it illegal to take out any wood stove that wasn’t “certified” whatever that means.

It was a dandy one, too, quarter inch thick sides and a flat top I could cook on when the power went out.

Which I knew about, the power always went out when storms hit. Here on the Oregon coast it is either raining or preparing to rain, and with the rain comes the wind.


The old lady went over and held her hands out to the fire, standing there dripping on my pretty sea blue carpet.

Hey, it was in the house when I bought it!

“You sure are wet.” I managed, not knowing what else to say.

“Oh, sorry!” She said, looking down at the puddle.

“Maybe I should get out of these wet clothes, I am making a mess!” She gave me a huge grin.

I just looked at her.

What am I supposed to say, anyway? How about, “Sure go ahead. Let me help you out of those wet things?”

Hell, I didn’t even know her name yet.

All of my towels and blankets were outside in the fucking U-haul, all of my clothes, most of everything except for my couch, a couple of chairs, and my TV.

The wood was stored in the garage, I could reach that through the kitchen, so it was nice and dry.

Which was why the U-haul was outside, of course.

“Do you maybe have a towel, or a blanket or something I could use?” She asked.

“No, everything is outside in the truck.” I told her, then I thought of my coat. I went and got it, it was a shorty jacket but at least five sizes too big for her. I handed it to her, not quite sure of what she had planned.

Hell, I didn’t even know her name? Why didn’t she just go home, it was maybe 100 yards and she was already sopping wet?

But I was a nice guy and she looked cold so I handed her my coat. I was also thinking she was going to get it wet and that would piss me off.

She held it in one hand and looked at me like she was waiting for something, I stood there looking back.

“Can you turn your back please?” She asked sweetly.

“Uhh…OH!..OK.” I picked up the platter, went into the kitchen. I took the waxed paper off, cookies! Big fat ones with chocolate chips in them, if any of you have ever read some of my other stories you know I love those.

Especially the nice moist gooey ones that you can dip in a glass of milk and…

Sorry. I am 68 now and I wander off sometimes.

Anyway, I was on my fourth one, dipping away in a little glass of milk. The cookies didn’t even fall apart, this old gal knew how to make them for sure.

“OK. I am decent!” I heard her call out, so I snagged a fifth cookie to go and went back in there.

Her dress was hanging up by the stove, already starting to steam. I looked at it closely but it was far enough away that it probably wouldn’t catch fire.

There she stood, near as I could tell all she had on was my coat. It did cover her ass but that is all it did.

I didn’t see any bra or panties hanging up.

“Good cookies!” I told her, taking another bite.

“Thank you, I am glad you like them. I’m Sharon, I live in the green house across the street.” She again gave me a huge smile.

“Dan.” I told her. She stuck out her hand, which made the coat gap open, displaying a rather large expanse of the inside edge of her right breast and a glimpse of dark pubic hair.

“Oops.” She said, quickly tugging it back together and holding it closed with her left.

I shook her hand, curious now. This old lady had crossed the street to bring me some cookies. In a monstrous downpour? Wearing nothing but a simple house dress? No underwear? Barefoot?

Then she is standing naked except for a coat in front of a complete stranger?

OK. I know, I wouldn’t believe it either if someone told me this.

After maybe 30 minutes she was getting dried off nicely, we spent the time chatting. She found out I was retired and I found out she was also, she found out I was a widower and I found out she was divorced.

I told her when she asked how old I was, then she told me I didn’t look anywhere near old enough to be retired. I knew better of course, the front half of my head is bare and the back half is snow white but I liked hearing that anyway.

She kept turning back and forth in front of my fire, which was giving me constant glimpses bağdat caddesi escort of a lot of her although she kept the front of the coat together with one hand.

The spot where she was standing was darker from the water dripping off of it, she caught my glance at that.

“I have a carpet machine, I will come over and shampoo it for you when it quits raining.” She grinned.

“No need to bother.” I said.

“Oh, no bother.” She grinned at me. I realized she was now looking at me with interest.

OK. It had been one hell of a long time since any woman had looked at me that way, I kinda liked it.

Then she finally looked at the tiny watch on her wrist, and said she needed to be getting home. She got up to check her dress, giving me another glimpse of black pubic hair in the process.

It struck me that this old woman wasn’t in that bad of shape, she had a pretty good set of boobs on her, what I had seen of them so far. Several times all I needed was another inch or so and I would have seen her nipple.

I was feeling just a little bit fussed up. I kind of think she knew it too because when she reached for her dress, she lifted up on tiptoe and she really didn’t have to. I got a nice look at the bottom half of the cheeks of her ass when she did that. There really weren’t any odd looking lumps that I could see.

“Excuse me?” She asked, turning to me with the dress in her hand.

“Oh. Sorry, I will go in the other room.” I went in and snagged some more cookies.

Damn those were good.

“OK!” Sharon called out. I went back out, peeked out the front window. The wind was still blowing but it had stopped raining for a few minutes.

Sharon walked over and gave me a quick peck on the cheek and then she was gone.

I went in and ate the rest of the cookies, then I went into the bathroom and jacked off. What the hell, the vision of the bottom half of Sharon’s behind maybe four feet in front of my face had gotten the old pecker to stiffen right up.


The next morning the Sun was shining bright like nothing at all had happened the day before. I checked the rain gauge and it was just over 3 inches.

Sunshine be damned the wind off the Ocean made it cold as hell outside, I had stepped out and was just turning to go back inside when here she came.

She had a carpet shampoo machine in tow. Plus she was still barefoot.

“You don’t need to…” I started.

“I want to, Danny. Please?”

“OK. But only if you make me some more of those cookies!” I teased her. She grinned at me at that.

In 15 minutes she had the small carpet looking brand new. In the meantime, I made some breakfast, got her to stop working and sit down to eat.

“Wow, an man that can cook? What a catch!” She grinned at me.

Later she left, I started to unload the U-haul and she was right back helping me. I told her she didn’t have to do that but she insisted, which actually was good because we made short work of it and I got the truck back barely in time to save myself the next full day’s rental.

Sharon drove my Kia down to pick me up.

Of course then we had to drive all over hell so she could show me where everything in the little town was, that took maybe 30 minutes. There really wasn’t a lot to see, I knew that already. A Walmart on one end of town, a bridge on the other. A neat little section closer to the Ocean pretending to be rustic right down to the plastic shingles on all of the buildings.

The next morning Sharon knocked on my door, handing me my newspaper.

“I found it in the street.” She told me.

Breakfast again. Another drive. We watched TV together that afternoon. I sat in my chair and Sharon sat on the couch pretending to enjoy the military channel. I noticed she kept tugging the hem of her dress upwards, she had her legs crossed at the knees and half of her thigh was showing.

I was trying to not look but that’s not an easy thing to do, she kept catching me looking and just smiled sweetly.

The next day there she was again, asking me if I wanted to go shopping with her. The truth is that I hate to shop, and will do anything at all to get out of it.

I have been known to eat a can of creamed Corn for dinner rather than go shopping.

But she had another plate of those cookies, what was I going to say?

So. We shopped. Somehow she had a cart and I had a cart and she kept stuffing things into my cart that I never heard of and would never think to buy but I did. There was a half dozen green looking things, she told me to peel them and eat them raw with a little bit of salt so I did.

Damn those were good, Calla Rabbi’s or something like that. The very tops of them are wonderful, I chopped up and cooked the rest of them with some butter and vinegar.

One morning I woke up to the sound of a lawnmower, Sharon was out there mowing my grass. Hell, it was only about 6 swipes all told, but when I asked her about that she just told me she already had hers running bahçelievler escort so why not?

Then more cookies. One day she showed up with some rolls filled with sweet lemon sauce, a dozen of them. Somewhere in there she told me about her family owning a bakery somewhere, I didn’t pay much attention to that.

I drew the line when she asked me if I wanted her to do my laundry, she said she was doing a load anyway so she might as well.

I kind of didn’t want her to see my underwear since I tend to leave a brown streak in them now and then.

Getting along in years, you see.

You young guys will find out what I mean.

One day I was sitting out on the jetty, I had some sand shrimp and planned on catching me a fish for dinner.

“Hi, Danny! Imagine running into you way out here!”

I looked over and there she sat on a rock maybe 20 feet away, fishing pole in hand.

OK. Now I was sure, I was being pursued.

She also caught two nice sea trout, all I got was a bullhead.


Now understand here that I had no plans for any kind of relationship at all. I had been married for a couple of decades and it was a darned good marriage too. I met my Dotty when I was doing the therapy stuff, getting so I could walk again.

Dotty was my nurse and therapist.

She was good at it, I gained very fast and somewhere in there we fell in love. But with her there was not going to be any sex at all unless we were married, so I married her and I was glad that I did.

The first time I saw her naked was out wedding night, I damn near cried at the sight of her. I already knew she was beautiful, but looking all shy yet naked like that she took my breath away.

Dotty and I were happy together, we never were blessed with kids because early on she was diagnosed with Cancer. The Doctors saved her life but took her ability to have children, so we became as close as it is possible for a couple to be. We got 20 long years of perfection.

Dotty went very fast once we got the bad diagnosis, all of the rest of my life seemed to fall apart after that and I ended up in the small house scrimping by on what little I had left.

So now even the thought of another woman in my life felt somehow like I would be cheating. Yes, I know that is silly but it was the way I felt.

Women did not fit into the picture at all. Sure, I had fantasies, I took care of myself using solo sexuality, but most of the time the thoughts in my head were of my late wife.

Sharon was becoming a pain in the butt, she popped up everywhere.

Once or twice a month or so I walked down to the corner tavern to have a beer. Without fail Sharon would appear, hopping on the stool next to me. Hell, that happened often enough the bartender was obviously thinking we were a couple.

The reason I know that is because one evening I went down there and after a half hour or so it struck me Sharon wasn’t there.

“So where is your gal tonight?” The bartender asked. I just shrugged.

Later that night I looked over at Sharon’s house and it was dark. The next day I looked over there several times, no sign of her at all.

By weekend, I began to worry. She never did have a lot of visitors, and I was thinking maybe she was sick or God forbid, even dead in there?

I went over and knocked, there was no answer. I went around back and peered in under the curtains, no sign of her at all.

I was about ready to call the police department, report her as missing when my phone rang.

“Hi, Danny.” Sharon’s voice said.

“Hi! Where have you been, I have been worried about you.” I told her.

“That’s sweet of you. My Mom was sick so I had to go see her. She is better now so I will be home by weekend.”

“Your Mom? You never told me about her.”

“We haven’t always gotten along so well, but it’s better now. She is 92 and frail, so we moved her to a care facility.”

“We?” I asked her.

“Yes, my brother and my ex-husband helped with the move.”

“Oh. Well, I missed you, you should have told me.” I said.

“I just didn’t want to burden you with my troubles.”

“Well, how about I have you over and cook you a nice dinner when you get back?” I asked her on impulse.

“I would love that, Danny.” Her voice took on a soft purr.

“Now what did I just do?” I thought. The woman had been driving me nuts but as soon as she was gone I realized I missed her?


It was raining like hell outside the day Sharon was coming over for dinner. If anything, it was even worse than the time I first met her.

I had a side of Lingcod baking, a nice white sauce simmering in a pan to pour over it, and some Scalloped Potatoes cooking. Those had my own recipe, I use a Papaya hot seasoning lightly in a basic butter sauce, a trace of chili powder and three different cheeses, all melted together and whipped into a froth before putting it between the layers of Potatoes, then sticking it last under the broiler to turn it crisp and golden brown on top. It actually looks a lot like a pie because I also use an unsweetened crust and when I get it right it comes out just like slices of pie.

There is one more secret there, that is the soda water I add as I whip it with my mixer, adding a little bit of sour cream at the same time.

I had just taken the sauce off and set it to a warmer when Sharon knocked on the door.

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