Hirsute Rebecca

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A May/December romance in the boondocks back in the 1970’s…


Like clockwork, I happened to be outside around five o’clock, sitting on my front porch and playing the part of the retired widowed gentleman living the life of leisure, and to anyone who happened to go down my road it might have looked like I spent the whole day out there just watching the world go by.

In fact, the gravel road that wound past my house had little traffic, with only an occasional car flying past, usually the result of the driver missing a turn and getting lost. That was the way we liked it – the “we” being my late wife Lois and I – just the two of us out here in the sticks. Now it was just me and I had been solo for a few years, and now the seclusion doesn’t hold the same appeal for me.

It was a bit different these days, and I owed that to my new friend, Rebecca, who had in fact been a neighbor of mine all of her life. The term neighbor translates to her family living down the road close to a quarter mile away, and that made her house the closest to mine.

Rebecca was the youngest of the three children of the Brown household, and the only one still living there with her Mom, her older siblings having moved out and on with their lives. Where her Dad went – well, I didn’t know and out here we don’t ask other folks their business.

I was barely aware of the existence of Rebecca, who I only knew as the girl who rode her bike past my house every once in a while, and since she was the type of girl who didn’t attract too much attention with her looks I suspect she was sort of nondescript to much of the rest of the world too.

That’s not to say that Rebecca was an ugly girl, but she was plain to be sure and the way she dressed did nothing to enhance her looks either. Unlike most girls of her generation, she didn’t dress provocatively. Just the opposite. her clothes were so bland and baggy that it was hard to tell whether she was a boy or a girl.

Rebecca was fond of wearing loose fitting blouses with sleeves that went down to her elbows and worn out blue jeans, even in the warmest weather. This androgynous wardrobe piqued my interest for some reason, so I paid a lot of attention to Rebecca as she went by, and my interest didn’t wane even after I figured out that there wasn’t all that much Rebecca under the baggy clothes.

So what was it about that got my attention during that summer of 1973? Part of it might have come from the fact in time I learned Rebecca was 18, which made me less guilty about mentally undressing her. She didn’t look it though, and I suspect not many other guys had spent much time fantasizing about a young woman who was not very well developed.

Rebecca had curly and rather unkempt very dark brown hair that she probably cut at home to save money, since I suspected that her and her Mom lived rather frugally even by the modest standards of our area. She wore no makeup, which let the evidence of what was probably a bad case of acne in her youth show through. Rebecca’s teeth were nice enough if a bit large, but until recently I hadn’t seen them since she rarely smiled as she went past.

That all changed that one afternoon, when instead of pedaling past on her bike, which was probably older than she was after being passed down through the family, Rebecca was walking alongside it as she went past my house on the way to her own. I was out getting mail out of the box as she approached, and the girl was looking tired and downcast as a result of the chain on the bike having come undone on her journey, so as a result of me wanting to be heroic guy as well as being a bit desperate for human interaction, I offered my help.

Up until that afternoon the only thing we had even done was nod at each other whenever Rebecca passed, but that all changed that day in the course of the half hour or so that it took me to fix Rebecca’s bike. Truth be told, I could have fixed it in a couple of minutes but I took my time and dragged it out.

In that time I learned that Rebecca was not only 18 but almost 19, and had graduated from high school the year before. She biked to and from work in Dolgeville, where she worked at the Rawlings baseball bat factory, and while she hoped to go to college, her Mom and her needed the money so education was put on hold for the time being.

I managed to find all that out during the time I spent on my creaky knees fiddling with the balky chain, but while I was listening attentively my mind was elsewhere, the result of my eyes taking full advantage of my being so close to Rebecca. Maybe it was a result of being celibate for so long, but it was also because Rebecca had certain features that I found very appealing after I got a couple tools and knelt on the grass.

“This shouldn’t take long,” I assured Rebecca as I squinted up at her with the sun at her back.

Being this close to Rebecca for the first time, I noticed that the teen had a bit of a light down above her lip, certainly nothing like a moustache but probably just enough to cause her embarrassment, Gaziantep Anal Escort and she also had a little fuzz around the front of her ears.

Just like Lois, I remember thinking as I recalled my late wife, although my dearly departed spouse’s hair had not been quite as dark and thus less noticeable. My eyes then went to Rebecca’s arms as they held the bike upright for me to work on, and I was pleased to see that her slender forearms, lightly tanned to the elbows, had a rich coating of fine and long dark hairs that fluttered a bit in the breeze.

This unexpected sight was so erotic to me that made it very difficult for me to concentrate on what I was doing to the girl’s bike chain, but thankfully Rebecca was watching my hands which allowed my eyes to roam. I suspect that not many other guys had scrutinized her like I was, but I’m not other guys.

Rebecca’s sleeve, so loosely draped on her slender elbow, hung low as she reached over to hold the bike for me, so despite feeling guilty I allowed myself to lean forward so I could get an unobstructed view up her sleeve. This was the 90’s, not the 60’s, so my expectations were tempered by the reality of the times.

Such a slender arm, I noted as I looked up past when the tan line ended and the extremely pale skin began, and it was then that I dropped my wrench. My fumbling forced me to briefly tear my eyes away from the most wonderful sight imaginable that had startled me so.

“Hurt yourself?” I heard Rebecca ask when I fumbled the tool, but I assured the girl that I was fine but merely butter-fingered as I retrieved the wrench and tried to resume subtly looking up the poor girl’s sleeve.

Rebecca has a secret, I remembered thinking as I peered into the dark recess while my erection tried to rip through my boxer shorts, something that hadn’t happened in quite a while. I only wished I could have gotten a clearer view of what seemed to be an incredibly bushy armpit hidden way up Rebecca’s sleeve, and to say that this didn’t make the heart of this child of the sixties flutter would be an understatement.

After I had milked the easy bike repair for as long as I dared I was forced to stand up carefully while attempting to shield from Rebecca’s eyes what was a very obvious problem in the front of my pants. Not only was my erection making a tent in my baggy trousers but my swollen member had been leaking, causing a large wet stain in the front.

After accepting Rebecca’s profuse thanks she went pedaling home, while I went back to the garage to put away my tools. After that I found myself behind the shed in the seclusion of my backyard, where I let my trousers drop to my knees along with my boxers while I replayed the image of Rebecca in my mind.

Jerking off like a teenager, I felt no shame as I stroked my vein-riddled cock to climax, and after squeezing out every last drop of seed I was happy that although my knees ached and my back groaned there was something attached to me that still worked fine.


After that day I made a point of being out on my porch every afternoon to see Rebecca as she pedaled home, and she made a point of stopping to chat each day. We were becoming friends, and although I felt guilty about my ulterior motives in the beginning, she was adorable in her naive and shy way.

I managed to find a place on the porch which would afford me the best chance for what I hoped was a subtle way of looking at Rebecca’s hidden treasures, and the teen usually inadvertently accommodated me by stopping at the base of the steps and holding onto the rail with her left hand while staying on the bike.

If Rebecca was aware of my maneuverings in order to casually stare up the loose confines of her sleeve, she didn’t let on. Each weekday Rebecca would stop at the porch, and as the days went by our chats became more and more personal, although not anything that was in horrible taste or anything.

I asked whether she had a boyfriend one day, and Rebecca sadly shook her head in response. When I suggested that there must be something wrong with the guys in this area to not be all over a treasure like her, Rebecca laughed and blushed.

I asked whether she had gone to her prom in her senior year but I could tell that was a mistake because I could sense the sadness in her negative response. Rebecca offered that the night of her Prom she actually had a date of sorts, the only date she said she had ever had, but when I asked her for details she said that she had to get home.

The next afternoon I reminded her that the day before she had teased me about a date she had, and I was eager to hear all about it.

“Hey, an old guy like me has to live vicariously through other people, and you’re the only friend I have,” I said, and added an edge of sadness to my voice as I spoke.

That wasn’t an act either, because I had come to cherish the time Rebecca spent with me. The conversations reminded me of how lonely I was and how bad my isolation had become.

“It wasn’t really a date,” Rebecca explained.

“What was it then?”

“I dunno. Todd was just a kid at school, and he wasn’t going to the Prom either,” Rebecca told me. “I think he was too ashamed to take me to the Prom, even though he’s no great shakes himself.”

“Why would anybody be ashamed to be with you?” I asked innocently. “You’re cute and smart.”

“No I’m not,” Rebecca said. “You know why.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes you do, Mr. Jackson,” Rebecca said, her face turns a bit red as she avoided my eyes. “I’ve seen you looking at me.”

“What?” I said with a start, but Rebecca wasn’t referring to my peeking up her sleeves but instead was speaking of the way my eyes would go to her forearms and the down that covered them.

“I know I’m – the school nurse said I was hirsute,” Rebecca said softly.

“I don’t know about that, Rebecca. I didn’t know you were aware of my staring at your arms, but you aren’t that unusual. My wife, she also had nice furry arms like yours and I guess you make me think of her,” I confessed. “That’s something I find very attractive in a woman.”

“They always made fun of me at school,” Rebecca said as she kicked at the ground with her sneaker. “In Gym and stuff. The girls always said that no boys wanted to be with someone like me. They called me ape girl.”

“Kids can be cruel,” I agreed. “I think you’ll find that there are a lot of men who will find you very attractive just as you are.”

“Not so far they haven’t. It’s not just my arms either. I’m like that all over.”

“My wife was too,” I told Rebecca, although I suspected that Rebecca was in another league if her arms were any indication. “She never let it bother her and as for me, I assure you that I enjoyed every furry bit of her. Lois – she didn’t shave either.”

“How…” Rebecca asked, and it was then that she realized I was looking up her sleeve. “Omigod. My Mom – she never used to let me shave. She said if I did I would get even more hairy, like she did when she was growing up.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” I said about that old wives’ tale. “But you’re 18 now so if it really bothered you you could shave.”

“No reason too. I mean, I never wear anything without sleeves.”

“I know,” I said. “I always keep hoping that you would, because I think your arms are beautiful and I would love to see you wear something without sleeves so I could get a nice look at them.”

“Omigod, I would die of embarrassment. The guys at work don’t like me much as it is, and if they ever saw me – it would be a nightmare.”.

“I have bunch of things that Lois used to wear,” I said. “Vintage stuff like tie-dyed tank-tops. If you want them I would love for you to have them.”

“I could never.”

“Oh. Wearing a dead woman’s clothes creep you out?”

“No, it’s just that – I’m really self-conscious about my body.”

“For no reason.”

“I better go,” Rebecca said, “Got to take a bath. I’m all sweaty.”

“It’s a hot one alright,” I said, having noticed the sweat stains under the arms of her blouse since she arrived. “Supposed to be hotter tomorrow.”

“Wish we had a shower at home. All we have is a tub, and I hate sitting there in my own yucky.”

“I have a shower,” I offered. “You’re welcome to take one here if you want.”

“Couldn’t, but thanks,” Rebecca said.

“A nice cool shower – and I wouldn’t dry you off unless you wanted.”

Rebecca snorted at that and I apologized at being so forward, but she said she knew I was only kidding.

“Well, only a little. I know I’m an old coot but if I was your age I would give anything to go to Proms or anything else with you. I think you’re adorable and you being natural only makes you more beautiful.”

“You’re just being nice. Me not shaving isn’t really a statement. I think it’s more a case of who cares because nobody’s going looking.”

“Now you know different. As for being nice, I think it’s more like being honest,” I corrected while directing the conversation back. “Now what about this date you had with what’s-his-name?”

“Todd?” Rebecca asked. “Not much to tell. He asked me if I wanted to go out with him, but what he wanted to do was go buy some beer and go into the woods and mess around.”

“Nothing wrong with that. I did that plenty back in the day. So tell me about it.”

“You going to tell my Mom?”

“I haven’t seen your Mom in years, Rebecca. Besides, you’re my friend, and I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“We just drank beer and then he started – kissing me and stuff,” Rebecca confessed.

“Nice. Lucky guy.”

“He told me I didn’t know how to kiss good,” Rebecca admitted. “I never did it to anybody – except my pillow.”

“If he had a brain and was any good at it himself he would have helped you learn,” I said as I leaned forward in anticipation of hearing this innocent telling. “So did anything else happen? Just between us?”

“He took out his – you know – his thing.”

“Oh,” I said while enjoying Rebecca’s face turn beet red. “Did you two make love?”

“Omigod no,” she gasped. “I could never with a guy like that, but he had me kiss it.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about honey,” I said.

“He wanted me to do other stuff but I wouldn’t,” Rebecca maintained. “I did do something though.”

I asked her what that was and she made a little motion with her hand in explanation.

“Didn’t know how to do that either.”

“I’m sure you did fine,” I assured her, the thought of Rebecca jerking this guy off making my own cock hard. “Did he do anything to you?”

“I can’t believe I’m telling you all this. You must think I’m a whore.”

“Don’t be silly. I don’t think anything of the sort. In fact, I’m very jealous of this Todd. What did he do to you? You can tell me.”

“I let me touch me,” she finally admitted.

“Where? Your breasts?”

“No. Lower.”

“Oh. Was it nice?”

“Not really. He told me…”

“What did he tell you?” I practically begged.

“Todd said I was so hairy down there he could hardly find the hole,” Rebecca said.

“Silly kid,” I said. “The problem was that he was a boy trying to do a man’s job.”

“I better go.”

“Sure you don’t want to take a shower here?” I repeated. “Nice and cool water.”

“No, thanks though.”

“Maybe sometime?” I asked hopefully.

“I dunno.”

“I’m hairy too, if that would make you feel better.”

“I know,” Rebecca said. “I can see it sticking out of the neck of your shirt.”

“Is that a good thing? Do you like hairy guys?” I said with a chuckle.

“Don’t know. I would like anybody who liked me, or didn’t laugh at me.”

“I like you, and I’m not laughing.”

“I know, that’s why I like talking to you. You make me feel grown-up. At home, even at work, everybody treats me like a kid. Gotta go.”

I walked my young friend ride away, wishing that I could become her age if only for one day.


The next afternoon the heat wave was interrupted by a wicked thunderstorm, and while I remembered that Rebecca said that her mother would pick her up from work if there was bad weather, I decided to hop into my pick-up truck and drive into town.

Rebecca was walking her bike up the steep hill that ended up in downtown Dolgeville, a virtual mountain that was probably fun to ride down but near impossible to climb on a old bike without gears like Rebecca’s.

I beeped as I made a U-turn, and after I got over to Rebecca she recognized me. Getting out, I grabbed her bike and put it in the back of my pick-up and had Rebecca hop in the cab with me.

“I thought your Mom picked you up when it’s nasty out,” I asked as I looked over at Rebecca who was dripping wet and adorable looking.

“She has to work until 9 tonight,” Rebecca said. “I didn’t want to hang around until then. Did you come down here to pick me up?”

“Sure, just in case. I’m glad I did.”

“Thank you,” Rebecca said, and it almost looked like the water on her cheeks wasn’t rain. “That was nice of you.”

“What are friends for?” I said. “We’ll get you home so you can get those wet clothes off.”

“No reason to get home,” Rebecca commented. “Nobody there. Can we stop at your house – unless you have something to do.”


“I dunno. I kind of like our talks.”

“Me too. My place it is,” I replied, the prospect of getting to spend some time with my friend making me in a hurry to get home for once, and I was wondering whether I could make her dinner or something to keep her around until the rain stopped.


“Your house is nicer than ours,” Rebecca said as I let her into the kitchen, and seeing that my house was no great shakes meant that hers was equally worn down.

“It’s too big for one person,” I said as I went to get a couple of towels. “Here you go.”

Rebecca dried her hair as best she could, which at least helped stop the dripping from her bangs, and after I sat down on a chair I took a towel myself.

“Can I?” I asked while reaching over with the towel and putting it in her forearm.

“Okay,” Rebecca said, and only then did I rub the soft cotton over her forearm.

Silly old fool, I told myself while rubbing the wet skin and the hair that was plastered against her arm with the towel. Getting excited and using this as an excuse to touch Rebecca was sad but as the hair dried and when back to being fluffy and light my cock felt ready to erupt in my pants.

“Sorry,” I said when the towel slipped out of my grasp and I found my palm rubbing her furry arm.

“It’s okay,” Rebecca said. “I do that to myself sometimes. It feels nice. Don’t stop. Please?”

“Honey – I – the things that are going through my mind…”

“I know,” she said, her tiny voice barely audible. “I didn’t understand at first, but…”

Rebecca nodded downwards toward my lap and the obscene bulge that made a comical tent of the fabric.

“It isn’t right,” I said as she stood there in front of me while my hands let go of the towel and let my bony fingers stroke her arms. “I feel like an old vulture taking advantage of you.”

“Can I take a shower?” Rebecca asked. “I’m probably smelly.”

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