It Was Her Legs… Her Gorgeous Fuckin’ Legs Part 1

It Was Her Legs… Her Gorgeous Fuckin’ Legs

After my wife had passed away, I sold our place and gave my kids all of our ‘keepsakes’ which they considered junk.
Shreveport, Louisiana had a local Veterans assisted living facility, so I managed to get an apartment there.

It was really a pretty good deal. I still had my pickup and was a competent driver, so I could come and go as I pleased (as long as I paid the rent on time). The main responsibility of the staff, as far as my situation, was to make sure I got my BP meds and my meals. I visited the gym every morning and stayed in pretty good shape for a man pushing seventy.

As long as I would let them know, I could stay overnight with one of my kids’ family, or with my occasional date, Ms. Janie. The home only asked that I let them know when I was coming and/or going, and that I make sure to take my meds.

My friend, Dave, and I were taking a nice, slow, shopping trip at the local Walmart. Quite often, we spent more time looking over the women and speculating on what we would like to do to them…. Or WOULD have done, a few years earlier.

The best smelling aisle in the entire store is the one with coffee and tea on one side of the aisle, bread and pastries on the other. The ladies seem to think so, too. They take more time picking out the ‘just right’ loaf of bread than in the entire meat section. Over the last year or so, Dave scored with one woman and I scored with three… one of mine wound up taking both of us, though, so we’ll score it, Don-3, Dave-2.

I just picked up a can of coffee when Dave tapped my shoulder, “Son… of… a… bitch,” he muttered lowly, “Check out the cowgirl that just turned the corner. I’d trade my fuckin’ left nut to fuck that. Just look at those fuckin’ legs.”

To start with, I consider myself, 1st) a man who appreciates tits, of any size. That’s what I always check out first… 2nd) I check for a camel toe. I love to see a woman who’s not opposed to jerking her pants up, tight into her crotch, so old perverts like Dave and me can appreciate a good cunt outline… 3rd) I always peruse the symmetry of a woman’s legs. I really don’t care if one is shorter, or a little crooked, or has an unsightly scar… I just like to examine the limbs I’d like to spread, in order to get to her pussy.

Just as I got to #4), her face, something clicked in my old memory and I returned my gaze to the legs. I already checked the crotch of her jean shorts, already checked her boobs, but once I looked at her knees again I had to know…

“’Scuse me, but are you Stacy?”

“Uh, yes, I…. DON? OH MY GOSH! DON!”
For a split second, when Stacy’s big tits smashed into my chest as she grabbed me and kissed my cheek several times, I almost felt sorry for Dave… almost.
Fuck Dave… I had known Stacy since she was 9yrs old. She was my daughter’s friend all the way through her school years, until they graduated and left home. I had coached their softball teams in little league, hosted many slumber parties at our house, and hauled many girls to school and 4-H activities for years. During all that time, I always thought Stacy had the prettiest legs in the whole school.
I guess that’s why I recognized her in the middle of Walmart, 60 miles from where she was raised.

“What are you doing here, in Shreveport, sweetheart? I thought you lived in Mississippi somewhere.”

“Damn, it’s so good to see you,” she held my hands as though she was afraid of falling or something, “I haven’t lived in Jackson since my first husband beat me up and kicked me out. Do you remember Will Hall? He has the electric supply house back home.”

I did remember Will. He was a good business man and always supported kids’ activities in town. His wife was a knockout and ran the office for him. He was only a couple of years younger than me.

“Well, Will and I have a place on the Red River, about eight miles from town. He and Delores split a few years ago and the two of us hooked up after my third marriage went to hell. We’ll never get married, but we share ownership of the river place and it’s my favorite place in the world.
“So… what are you doing here?”

I explained my living accommodations and introduced her to Dave, “Don’t mind his tongue hanging out; he does that a hundred times a day… every time he lays eyes on a gorgeous pair of legs.