Her name was Hazel and I found out from our warden that she was sixty five years old and had just retired from her job as an accounts clerk for a firm somewhere in the West Midlands.I live on the second floor, and she moved into the flat right above me. One afternoon, I was returning from a fishing trip and had just parked up on the car park when she pulled up beside me. We nodded to each other then she opened the boot of her car and I could see it was filled with shopping bags and I asked her if she needed any help carrying them to her flat. She replied that that would be a great help and proceeded to lift them out of them out of the boot.She was wearing a tee shirt that was a little too large for her and several times she caught me looking down the front of it as she leant into the boot to pick up bags but she didn't say anything, just gave me a knowing smile. From what I could see she had a nice pair of tits and they looked even better in the red, satin bra she was wearing. Once. " She must have seen the truth in my eyes, because she nodded her head, and started to cry.That did it for me.There was a pull out just ahead and I parked there, took her into my arms and cuddled her tightly against my chest, letting her let it all out, which she did for a very long while. Angela's tears built a bond between us, and when she had cried sufficiently to satisfy her immediate need, she smiled, wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and kissed me like a woman kisses a man.I let her.Her kiss let us speak without words, and we talked to each other through our lips about our fears, needs, anger, and hurts. For Angela there were plenty of hurts and she telegraphed them to me with her lips. As she kissed me, I could feel her coming to grips with her new life, strange body, and lack of choices for the near term. We spoke' freely through our kiss, and when she felt secure that I meant it, she let me know she believed me, and that we could get on with whatever was to come.It was while we.
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