Too Old to be Young - Chapter 1

 Hi Everyone. 

 I’m afraid this blog has simply gotten to be too difficult to keep up with right now.  I’ve just had too much going on in my life and there doesn’t seem to be an end coming anytime soon. 

 In the meantime, I had another story beginning cross my mind that I had to put down in writing.  Here’s chapter 1.  Please be advised that this will most likely be another story I never finish.  I don’t even know if I’ll ever post chapter two, even though I did start it.  So use your imaginations as to what comes after this. 

 Sorry.  I’m not ending this blog.  I just can’t seem to keep up with it.

Karen

 

 

Too Old to be Young

By Karen Singer

 Chapter 1

      A place to die.  A place to wait to die.  He stood at the end of his driveway and looked back at the retirement house he was moving into.  A place he could live, while he waited to die.  There was an L-shaped building that wrapped around the back of the large carport with a laundry room at the back section and a large storage room off to the side.  An open space separated that from the main two-bedroom, two-bathroom house.  The open space led as far as the backyard and that was it.

      The house sat on a corner lot and was bordered by gardens that he didn’t have to tend unless he wanted to, just like the lawn he would no longer need to worry about caring for either.  The two-bedroom house sounded a lot bigger than it was.  In truth, compared to the house he had just sold, it was less than half the size…and only one floor.  He as looking forward to not going up and down stairs anymore.

      Retirement for real.  Retirement – waiting to die.

      His car was parked in the carport, but as far from the house as he could get it right now.  He had done that to make as much room as possible for when the moving van arrived with his furniture and things.  He had already ordered a golf cart that would be delivered to his carport tomorrow.  If he wasn’t going to go out of this retirement community, the golf cart would be his easiest mode of transportation.  He had already noted that almost every house he had seen had at least one.  Many of them two, and some of them were two seaters.

      His thoughts were interrupted by a large truck coming up the street.  The moving van.  His things.  The van pulled up in front of the house.  Five minutes later, everything was total chaos as he directed the workers where to put everything.  In less than an hour, the moving van was gone, and he was left with a house full of stuff he didn’t know what to do with.

      Now that the door was closed, his thoughts turned to the more immediate things on his mind.  He went back to the bedroom and searched the boxes, finally finding the one he had been looking for.  He opened it and his cock gave a twitch of interest.  Dresses of different sorts and other women’s clothes.  He pulled some of them out and threw them on the bed, just to get at the shoes underneath.  He pulled out a pair of black, low-heeled pumps.  The shoes he had been wearing were quickly removed and he stuck the pumps on his bare feet.  They were his favorite shoes.  The most comfortable.  In the six-months since his wife had died and he had begun this strange hobby, he had worn them nearly every day.

      He searched around for his other box, the box containing his diapers, but in the mess, he didn’t see it.  He knew it was in there somewhere amid all the other boxes stacked on top of each other.  Not seeing it immediately, he began putting his dresses and things away.  Some of them going into the large closet, others going into the top drawer of what used to be his wife’s dresser.  Now that she was gone and he was moving, it was his top drawer.  His old dresser didn’t come.  This room was a lot smaller than his old bedroom.  He didn’t feel like there was room for another dresser in it, especially one he didn’t need.

      When that box was empty, he carried the box and set it down near the front door.  He opened the door.  Despite the resolution he had made before moving, he carefully peeked out.  Seeing no one, he carried the box a few steps out into gap between the house and the laundry room and left it there.  Going back inside, he decided it was time to tackle the living room and kitchen first.

      An hour later, there was a knock at his door.  Realizing what shoes he was wearing, he froze.  Should he answer the door wearing them, or slip them off and just go in his bare feet?  But he had resolved to do this.  It was his life!  And right now, the biggest thing he wanted was to be left alone.  Therefore, he had decided that from now on, the neighbors could see what he was wearing, in hopes that it would keep them away!

      Forcing himself to be more determined than he was, he headed for the door and opened it.  There was a woman there with a plate in her hand.

      “Hi,” the woman said.  “I’m Jackie.  I live…” she half turned her body behind her, “right next door”

      “Hi,” he replied forcing himself to smile.  “I’m Jim.”

      “Here,” Jackie said a she handed him the plate.  “I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

      “Thanks,” John replied, amazed that she hadn’t seemed to notice what shoes he was wearing.

      “Excuse me for saying this,” Jackie said.

      Uh-oh!  Jim braced himself.

      “But I didn’t see any sign of your wife.”

      “She died earlier this year,” Jim told her.  “It’s just me now.”

      “I’m so sorry,” Jackie replied.

      “Uh…I’d invite you in for some coffee,” Jim told her, but my entire house is a huge mess and I’ve been going crazy trying to find the coffee pot.  I found coffee, but nothing to make it in.  Come to think of it, I haven’t seen anything to drink it out of either.”

      Jackie’s eyes went wide.  “Put that plate up somewhere,” she told him.  “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”  She started to leave then turned back to him.  “Cream or sugar?” she asked.

      “Black,” Jim replied, trying to figure out why she was doing this.  Was she just that nosey?  Obviously, she hadn’t noticed his shoes at all.  Well, when she came back, she’d see them for sure, and then she’d learn to stay away.  Hopefully, she’d tell the other neighbors too and they’d stay away as well.

      He went back inside, cleared off a couple of chairs and half his kitchen table, and put the plate on it.  Cookies.  And they looked pretty good.  If she was bringing some coffee, he’d wait till she got there to get some.  If she noticed his shoes and got angry, he had no problem with her taking her unopened plate of cookies back home with her. 

      He was interrupted by someone shouting his name from outside.  He hurried to the door.  She was standing outside with a mug of coffee in each hand.

      “I couldn’t knock,” she told him.  She handed off one of the steaming mugs to him.

      “Thanks,” he said as he led the way inside.  Despite the low heels, his shoes still made a distinctive sound against the tile floors that went through the entire house.  He was just waiting for her to mention his shoes.  But they arrived at the table and they both sat down.  He took a sip of the coffee.  Mmm.  Good!  He had been looking for his coffee maker.  It had to be in this mess somewhere.  He was used to having a coffee cup either in his hand or nearby all the time.

      Jackie pulled the plastic wrap off her plate of cookies.  She waited for him to select one before she took one herself.  “Where did you move from?” she asked.

      “Exactly fourteen point three miles away,” he told her.  “I don’t know how far it is as the crow flies.”

      “Oh, so you’re from right here in town.”

      “For many years now.”

      “How about your kids?  What do they think about you moving?  I’m surprised none of them have shown up yet to give you a hand.”

      “And they won’t,” he told her.  “My son died in the military.  My daughter lives three states away.  We talk on the phone once in a while, but that’s it.  And just for the record, it was my daughter’s idea that I get rid of my other house and downsize.  She was right.  It was way too big for just me.”

      “I’m sure it was empty too,” she replied.

      “Yeah.  It was.  But I was okay.  It was a big house though.  Now, I’m…I guess, waiting to die.”

      “Just like all of us around here.”

      “Yeah,” he said.

      She took a small bite of her cookie and a sip of her coffee.  Then said, “Interesting footwear you have.”

      In the pleasant conversation, he had almost forgotten.  He stiffened immediately.  “It’s my house.  I intend on doing what I want in it.”

      “And wearing women’s shoes is something you want,” she stated.  “Do you do that often?”

      This was not a conversation he had ever planned on having.  But it was his house, and he was resolved to do what he wanted, and to hell what everyone else thought.  “Every day.  I like them, so I wear them.”

      “Do you have other…women’s shoes too?”

      “Just a few,” he replied.”

      She nodded and sipped at her coffee. 

      “You don’t seem too offended,” he noted.

      “Why should I be offended?  You haven’t said anything insulting to me.”

      “If I did, I certainly didn’t mean to,” he replied.  “I’m merely letting you know that this is my house and I intend on wearing whatever I want while I’m in it.  And to be quite frank, I don’t care if you tell the neighbors.  That might be a good thing.  Since I do like to wear what I want, I’d be happier to not have people knocking on my door at all hours.”

      “So you’re telling me, I should have stayed home.”

      He shrugged.  “I don’t mind, as long as you don’t care.”

      Her head looked around for a moment.  “I don’t.  Like you said, it’s your house.  Why can’t you do what you want in it?”

      He nodded.  “Thanks.”  He took another sip of his coffee.  “This is so good,” he told her.  I’ve been going crazy trying to find my coffee maker.”

      “You can’t find it?” she said, turning to look around.  The place seemed to be filled with boxes.

      “It’s here somewhere,” he told her.  “I’ll dig it out eventually.”

      She stood up.  “Let me give you a hand.”

      He stared at her for a moment.  “You’re sure?”

      “Why not?  I keep coffee made all day long at my house.”

      “I usually do too.  It’s never far from my hand.”

      “A man after my own heart,” she said as she moved off to look at some of the boxes.  She noticed they were all labeled with which room they were supposed to be in, but the living room and kitchen boxes were all mixed in with each other.  “Got a knife?” she asked as she stood in front of a box that said kitchen on it.

      He stood up, leaving his mug of coffee on the table.  “I’ve got a few of them around.  Here,” he said as he handed one that he had left on top of another box.  I’ll get another one from the bedroom.

      Jackie opened the box and found it full of food.  She carried the box into the kitchen.  “Do you care what cupboard I put the food in?” she yelled toward the bedroom.

      “No!” he yelled back.  Just find someplace logical.”

      Between the two of them, they began making headway, organizing things and getting the boxes out of the house.  The space between the main house and the laundry room was filling up with empty boxes.  Jackie no longer worried about the labels on the boxes.  She opened them and did her best to unpack what was inside, putting things away where she could.  Jim was doing most of the organizing and making decisions as he tried to decide where to put everything.  Jackie opened another box and began pulling what was inside out, when she stopped.  Stunned. 

      “Uh…Jim,” she said, holding up one of the big packages in the box.  “Diapers?”

      Jim turned, horrified.  What was his box of diapers doing in the living room?  The movers had put it in the wrong place!  “Uh…I’ll take that,” he said quickly. 

      She dropped the big package of nursery print diapers back into the box, noting another package of them that appeared to be even thicker than the ones she had pulled out.  “Two packages?” she asked.  “I get that you may have trouble with your bladder,” she said.  “Heck, I’ve had trouble with mine for years.  But why are the other ones so much thicker?”

      He didn’t really want to answer, but he did.  “Those are for nighttime.  Sometimes I wear them when I go to bed.  I pee a lot at night.  More often than during the day.”

      She nodded.  “My husband had a big problem with that,” she replied.  “He was up over and over again every night.”

      “Your husband?”

      “He died five years ago now.”

      “Sorry,” he said.  He grabbed the big box and lugged it down the hallway to the bedroom.  He set it down on the bed.  When he turned around, she was right behind him. 

      “Let me guess,” she said.  “Part of the things you wear around the house are those diapers.”

      He lifted his chin defiantly.  “Sometimes,” he confirmed.

      She nodded.  “To each, their own.” She replied.  “Which to me means you wear them for fun.  And knowing men, I’m guessing that would be some kind of sexual fun.”

      “Maybe,” he conceded.

      “It doesn’t bother me,” she said.  “Like you said, it’s your house.  It’s your life.”

      “It is,” he agreed.

      She moved further into the room and looked down into the box.  She pulled one of the diapers out of the opened package and looked at it.  “Kids characters,” she noted.

      He said nothing.  She pulled one of the thicker diapers from the other package.  Don’t these get uncomfortable to wear being this thick?”

      “I only wear them at night.”

      She nodded and stuck the diapers back into the box.  As she looked up, her eyes caught sight of his open closet, she noticed the colorful material inside – dresses!  She walked over to it and looked, almost immediately pulling out the skirt of one of the dresses.  She looked at him in disbelief.  “The style of this is something made for…a little girl…fifty years ago!  Just bigger.”

      He said nothing.  He saw her look down at the floor of the closet below the dresses. 

      “A pair of higher heels than you’re wearing now.  Shit, I wish my feet would let me wear heels again.  I can’t.  They’re too painful.”  She reached down and plucked the other pair of women’s shoes.  Black low-heeled patent leather Mary-Janes, with a big white bow on the toe.  And…”  She looked closely.  “Are these locks?”

      Still, he said nothing.

      She carefully set the silly black shoes back on the floor.  She took a deep breath then turned to him.  “Okay,” she said.  “We’re almost done in the living room.  Why don’t we finish there, then move into here?  I can help you make the bed…if we find some sheets.”

      His eyes nearly bulged out of his head.  What was going on?  Why wasn’t she yelling what a pervert he was?  He didn’t understand.  “Okay,” he agreed.

      Several hours later, he couldn’t believe it when he followed her from his house, into hers.  At her suggestion, since she said she didn’t care, she told him to leave the shoes he was wearing on his feet.  To his amazement, he did.  He was soon sitting with a fresh cup of coffee at her dining table, while she busied herself in the small kitchen area. 

      As she went about making a light dinner for both of them, she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who wears diapers for sexual purposes before.  I’ve certainly met some that wear them because they need them though, but I’d be willing to bet that whatever bladder protection they do wear, don’t have nursery prints all over them.  And I’m absolutely sure that they’d never be as thick as the thinner ones you have.”

      He had to search for something to say.  “As you pointed out, I don’t wear them for bladder protection.”  He was surprised that she had brought the subject up again.  He wasn’t comfortable talking about this stuff at all.

      She carried a reheated casserole dish from the kitchen to the table and set it between them.  She sat down and dished out some of it onto her plate.  “Help yourself,” she told him.  She waited while he dished some of it out, then she began eating.  A moment later she said, “I guess I’m just trying to figure it out.  I know there’s lots of different things that turn people on, but I can’t understand the diaper thing.  I’ve heard of it.  Believe me, I really have.  I just never expected to come across someone interested in it in real life.”

      “I wasn’t exactly expecting anyone to come across it,” he replied.

      “And that dress!  It was…”  She stopped herself then said, “Very pretty,”

      “You mean, ridiculous.”

      She shrugged.  “Your house,” she replied.

      He said nothing.  He took another bite of the food on his plate instead. 

      “Do you wear those diapers often?” she asked.  Then said, “You must, since you’ve got two big bags of them.”

      “I don’t know about often.  Sometimes though.”

      “And since they’re so thick, I’m guess you actually…wet them too.”

      It was a moment before he replied.  “Usually.”

      “How about anything else?  Like…in the back side of them.”

      “A few times,” he admitted.  “To be honest, and I don’t care what you think about it, but I’d love it if I could wear the nighttime ones, and not wake up to pee.  It would be heaven to get a full night’s sleep for once.”

      “Huh!” she grunted.  “My husband got so annoyed with getting up so much at night too.  That much, I can almost see.”  She took a bite of food then asked, “So when you wear them at night, you don’t sleep through…I guess…when you’re wetting them?”

      “Not even close!  But at least I don’t have to get out of bed, head to the bathroom, go through everything else, then get back into bed again.  I just have to manage to go back to sleep.  Usually, that takes a while.”

      She looked at him.  “Are you planning on trying to get yourself to the point where you do sleep through it all?  So you don’t wake up?”

      He considered that.  “I’ve thought about.  More than a few times.  But…I don’t know.  It’s like everything else.  I think about things, I have fantasies about doing more things, I start out, then wind up quitting and putting it all away a little while later.  Usually, disgusted with myself.”

      “You said you have fantasies about doing more things, can I ask, what kind of things?”

      “I’m not sure I should say,” he replied.

      She nodded.  “Your house, your fantasies, your life.”

      “Yes.”

      “So what kind of fantasies?” she asked again, knowing she was asking the same question.  “The kind where you get to the point where you have to wear diapers to bed every night because you can’t wake up to go the bathroom?”

      “Pretty much,” he admitted.

      “How about during the day though, you had two big packages of diapers and only one was for at night.  Do you have fantasies about having to wear them all the time because you can’t control yourself?”

      He looked at her.  The conversation now was disturbing.  “Sometimes, he admitted.  Not usually.”

      “Not usually?  Then what?”

      “With the diapers,” he replied, “it’s more like…I sometimes wonder what it’s like to have to wear them.  To be stuck wearing them, whether I like it or not, for…oh, maybe a few months.  And during that entire time, I wouldn’t be allowed to use the toilet.”  He saw her staring at him.  “Does that offend you?”

      It was a moment before she answered.  “No.  Your house, your fantasies, your life.  It’s none of my concern.”

      They stared at each other for a few moments, then they each went back to eating. 

      “How about all the women’s clothes?” she asked.  “I’m guessing you wear them around the house a lot, since you mentioned you didn’t care if anyone saw you.  As you said, you’re hoping it would keep the neighbors away.”

      “I do wear them around the house, a lot!  Although to be honest, more often I just wear the shoes, particularly the ones I have on right now.  They’re quite comfortable.  It’s a good thing I’m not a woman, I’d have more shoes than I could put in my closet.”

      She laughed.  “Do you have any fantasies about that too?”

      “Only wishing I could get away with wearing women’s shoes all the time.  Or in fantasy life, not get away with it, but be forced to wear them all the time with no other choice.”

      She nodded.  “The difference between fantasy and real life.”

      “Exactly.”

      When he left her house to go home a little while later, oddly, he felt no embarrassment at all about the shoes he was wearing as he walked out in public from her carport, across the lawn, and into his carport.  All night long, he found himself thinking about his neighbor, Jackie.  She hadn’t seemed to be offended in the least by anything!  Nothing!  He found that hard to believe.  Why had he admitted so many of his perverted fantasies to her?  Why?  He couldn’t figure that out.  Maybe it was because she didn’t seem to be offended.  Or more likely, with each thing he told her he was hoping it would keep her away from his door so he could live his life in peace.  That was the more likely reason.  He could only hope it would work.

      Those thoughts still occupied his mind completely as he wrapped himself up in one of his big diapers, intending on using it all night long…and very much looking forward to feeling every time he needed to wet the thing.  Would he be able to hold out all night and not masturbate?  He hoped so.  Masturbating, for as much as he loved it, ruined all the fun.

      In the house next door, Jackie couldn’t get Jim off her mind.  He was…weird!  In a major way.  But as he had said, it was his house, and he could do what he wanted inside it.  She knew something else too, as he had suggested, she was going to tell the neighbors about him, whether he liked it or not.  Everything she had learned about him was just too juicy not to tell.  And she had no doubt that it was going to be a major topic of conversation tomorrow night when the girls met at her house for their weekly bridge game.