June In August

by Techsan

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: A handicapped older man has fun with a BIG young woman, who makes a point of overlooking his handicap.



Author's note: the following story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. Some of you will not like the story and that is okay. A few of you will tear it apart with invective... and not have the courage to sign your name. I still prefer to give you the opportunity to comment but please have the intestinal fortitude to send me a note with a userid so we can correspond. The author wishes to express his gratitude to the very lovely and gracious Copperbutterfly for her editing to make this a better story.


Oh, my goodness! I never would have thought of myself as considering this kind of woman to be beautiful. Not until now, that is. Now I did.

I'll bet she wasn't a day over 22 and maybe younger than that. She stood a good six inches taller than my six feet. It's not often that I have to look up at a woman but I did with her. She was not a neat trim dainty figure, but still there was something sexy about her. I would hate to guess what her measurements were but she had curves where a woman ought to have curves. Nice tits, a working woman's waist — with maybe just a touch more than there should be - and a smooth round butt — a large round butt! Her legs were long but encased as they were in jeans, it was hard to tell just how shapely they were.

The first time I laid eyes on her was just about an hour ago. I had parked my van in the handicapped parking spot right in front of the store. I hobbled out of the van and started across the drive toward the store, using my cane to help my arthritic knees get me across the hardtop. The heat radiating up from the hot pavement in the August midday was positively scorching.

I had not even gotten across the drive before she came out and spotted me. She was working the lot, gathering shopping carts and pushing groups of them back into the store for incoming shoppers; it was a job usually done by men but I noticed that she handled more carts than any of the men I'd ever seen there. However she walked up to me and gave me one of the most sincere smiles I could remember.

"Do you need one of the electric carts?" she asked.

"Yes, I'll need one when I get in."

"I'll go get you one," she said, turning and striding quickly back into the store.

A minute later, she came striding back. "I'm sorry, the electric carts are all out. Would you like one of the manuals?"

"No, I'll just wait inside," I said.

"Okay. I'm sorry I couldn't help."

"That's okay. Thanks for checking."

I hobbled inside and sat down, waiting for nearly 45 minutes before a cart was available. Every time the girl, whose nametag said June, came in with a group of carts, she looked at me and gave me a huge smile. Sometimes she'd ask how I was doing. Then she'd head back outside for more carts.

Once I got the next available cart, I spent most of an hour shopping. When I checked out and rolled to the exit, there was June just bringing in another group of carts. She gave me that big smile that seemed special to me.

"Hi again. Did you find everything you need?"

"Yeah, I think so. Everything I could afford, at least," I said with a chuckle.

She laughed. "I'll go out with you and bring the cart back in."

"Okay with me. I'm not very far. Just the first handicapped spot."

She walked along beside me making small talk. When I pulled up to the sliding side door of my van and unlocked it, she said she would put my purchases inside and before I could start unloading, she had them transferred and slid the door closed.

I started to get out of the cart so she could take it but she insisted that I drive it around to the driver's door so I did. She was right with me all the way. When I stopped, she grabbed my key and unlocked the driver's door. When I struggled to stand upright on my shaky knees, she gently grabbed my arm and helped me up. I blushed, feeling embarrassed at having a young woman provide such services to me. I had always considered myself to be a gentleman, helping ladies by opening doors and carrying packages and other little chores. Now the tables were turned.

When she made sure that I was going to be able to stand with my cane and get into the van, she sat down on the cart and began to turn it back to the store. As I settled into the driver's seat but before I closed the door, she looked back at me with the special smile.

"You are such a delightful young lady," I said, feeling inadequate to express my gratitude to someone who so freely helped an infirm old man.

"What?" she asked.

"You are a special, delightful young woman. Thank you for your help."

"You're welcome. Take care," she said and waved as she rode off.

Four days later I was back to pick up some things at the store's pharmacy. I had forgotten about June after the last visit but she had not forgotten about me. I had parked and worked my way out of the van, standing beside the closed driver's door until my knees would work well enough to let me hobble inside. As usual, the pain had me gritting my teeth and staring at the ground to keep from showing how bad it hurt.

After a minute, I looked up and took a step toward the store when I spotted June on one of the electric carts already halfway across the driveway heading directly toward me. She was wearing her signature smile that showed deep dimples in both cheeks.

As she pulled up beside me, she said, "Hi. I saw you coming. How are you?"

"I'm great, sweetie. How are you?"

The dimples deepened. "I'm fine. It's good to see you again."

"Dear lady, it is good to be seen again but it is great to see you."

As she got up from the scooter, she leaned over and engulfed me in a brief hug. Old man or not, it had an immediate impact on my libido. Her breasts pressed into my shoulders, almost but not quite encompassing my face. I hugged her back, afraid of getting too close and having her feel my erection. I may be old but I'm neither dead nor immune to the delights of a young woman. As big as she was, she was still very attractive, perhaps because everything seemed to be well proportioned for her height.

She stepped back and I swung down to the seat of the cart, wanting to hide the bulge in my pants. Settled in, I looked up at her.

"Thank you so much for you help. You are such a dear lady."

I swear the dimples got even deeper. "Thank you, hon. I knew you'd feel better with the cart and it was the only one left so I grabbed it for you. Gotta go back to work."

She hurried off into the lot, almost skipping. I watched her receding figure until she moved between some cars and was mostly lost from sight. Of course, watching her big round bottom wiggling as she moved did absolutely nothing to reduce the pressure on my cock. It didn't go down until I was well into my shopping.

I admit that I make more visits to the store than really necessary. There are hundreds of visitors to that particular store every single day (yes, they close a grand total of two days a year) and with about 70 — 75 percent of them being female, there are always magnificent sights of female pulchritude on display in that store. So, yes, I go more often than I have to and I spend more time than necessary. However when a guy who loves women as much as I do gets so few opportunities to sample said delights, even "window shopping" has its rewards.

Yet this day, I completely ignored the women in the store. As I moved around making my selections to fill my shopping list, all I could think about was the extra-tall form of June, the feel of her nice sized boobs against my shoulders, the look of her round ass as she walked away from me. And every so often, I realized that my indecisive third leg kept expanding and deflating — expanding as I thought about her lush form, deflating when I concentrated on my shopping — and I had trouble even thinking about anything else. When the pharmacist's assistant asked for my birthday, required for verification purposes, I gave her the wrong date!

Finally completing my shopping, I checked out and headed for the van. I didn't even see June until she spoke to me, walking along beside the cart as I approached the exit.

"So I see you found what you needed. Get everything?"

"Yeah, I think so. Now I've just got to get it home."

"I'll help you get it in the van. This is yours right here, right?"

"Yep, that's it."

I drove to the side door but before I could do much of anything, June had grabbed my keys from my hand, unlocked the door, and started shifting plastic bags of goodies into the van.

When she had moved the last bag, I said, "Wow! Thank you! Now if I could only take you home with me to help me get them inside, everything would be fine." I laughed so she wouldn't think I was trying to pick her up.

"Hey, don't you live on Condi Drive? I thought I saw your van over there yesterday."

"Yeah, I do. Down by the second stop sign. Know where that is?"

"Yeah. I live at the end of the next block."

"Oh, really? That's close."

"Hey, you want to wait about ten minutes? I get off at three o'clock and I was planning to walk home. Give me a ride and I will help you with these packages."

"Aw, honey, you don't have to do that. But I will wait for you and give you a ride."

"Okay. I'll be back as soon as I can."

She rode the scooter back into the store, came right back out and hurried out to the basket collection site, putting together a group of about 12 shopping baskets and pushing them effortlessly into the store. Several minutes passed before she came walking hurriedly back to the van. She clambered into the front passenger seat, having to duck her head to get in.

The smile was back — I'm not sure it had ever left — and the dimples were very pronounced. She nodded her head, indicating that she was finished with work and ready to leave. My regret was that the trip was only three miles and would be over before I knew it. She was so easy to talk to that it surprised me, although in retrospect I don't know why. She had been friendly and talkative right from the first time I saw her.

I found out that she was twenty years old, had attended college for two years before deciding that she couldn't stand it anymore. When she went to work, she rented a manufactured home in the same park that I lived in. She liked being independent but sometimes she got lonely.

I pulled into my driveway and parked, much too soon to suit me but I couldn't think of a good way to make the trip longer so I could spend more time with this delightful young lady. By the time I struggled out of the van and got my knees working well enough to hobble around the front of the vehicle, she had grabbed two handfuls of the plastic bags — everything I had bought — and swung them onto the deck in front of the house. I told her I could have done that but she pooh-poohed my objection and turned to follow my progress.

Steps, both up and down, are my major embarrassment these days. I have to put my cane on the next step, grab the railing with the other hand and lift myself mostly by my arms and shoulders rather than depend on my legs. It is a slow, painful process. June watched me struggle up the first step and I was moving everything to hoist myself up the second step when her arms went around my chest. As if I were a toothpick, she picked me up and quickly climbed the remaining two steps, setting me down gently on the deck.

I turned to her with my eyes as wide a saucers, astounded at her strength. I guess I shouldn't have been startled; after all, she was a big woman. But somehow I just never thought of a woman being able to lift me like that.

Shaking my head in wonder, I bent to pick up the packages but she beat me to them. She told me to open the door and she'd bring the things in. I didn't argue. She followed me into the kitchen and placed my purchases on the dining table. I kept thinking that was as far as she'd go but she dug into the bags and pulled the refrigerator and freezer things out, letting me point out where I wanted each item and she stowed it away.

Looking around my kitchen, she oohed and aahed over the ornate glasswork doors of my overhead cabinets. She walked over and ran her fingers over the etched glass and commented that they were really beautiful. I admit that I liked them myself. June asked if I would show her the rest of the house, because she found it fascinating to see the different floor plans that builders came up with these days.

I took her back to the second and third bedrooms, which I had converted into an office and library respectively. She loved the huge skylight in the common bathroom. The living room was nothing special but she loved the huge garden tub in the master bathroom. Then in the master bedroom, she sighed and giggled at the sight of my waterbed.

"I've never tried a water bed. Do you really like it?"

"Oh, yeah. It is very restful. Go ahead — try it," I said.

June stretched out on the king-sized bed, her feet almost hanging over the padded end rail. She started giggling at the wave action started when she rolled into it.

"Oh, this is fun. Come on, hon. Lay down here." And she patted the bed beside her.

I carefully sat on the edge of the bed and swung my legs over, but still I caused a series of big waves that made her bounce up and down. She laughed with delight as her body undulated.

"This is an old mattress," I said. "It doesn't have much baffling."

"What is baffling?"

"That is stuff inside the mattress to keep the wave action down to a manageable level. Some mattresses have more or less, depending on how much you want waves."

"Oooh, I like the waves," she said. "It feels kind of like a little massage. And I'll bet they are good for other things too."

"Oh? What other things?"

"Well... you know, like... when you're... making out."

I grinned at her. "Yep, they can be nice. Wanna try it?"

I was kidding, knowing there was no way a pretty twenty year old woman was going to make out with a crippled old man like me. She didn't say anything for several minutes, just lay there occasionally pushing down on the mattress to create more waves. I was feeling very calm and restful when she startled me by turning toward me.

"Do you still do it?"

"What's that?"

"Do you still make out?"

"Not very often. Unfortunately there aren't many women that want my kind of partner."

"I would."

I opened my eyes wide and looked at her. "You would?"

"Yeah. I like you."

"You're kidding... right?"

"Nope."

To prove it, her hand began to caress my chest. I was afraid to breathe, afraid I would wake up and realize that I was dreaming. I couldn't control my second head, though, and my cock quickly inflated to full length, pushing at the crotch of my pants hard to make room to put up the tent.

She murmured, "Mm" as her hand found my cock and rubbed it through my coarse pants.

"I don't get much either," she said. "Guys don't like women who are bigger than themselves."

"Let's not tell them what they are missing," I said, rolling to meet her.

She had that beautiful smile on her face with the deep dimples. Just before our lips met, I saw the pink tip of her tongue snake out to meet mine. She gave as good as she got and I gave her a sloppy, wet, long kiss. By the time we broke apart, we were both struggling to regain our breath.

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Heterosexual /