Helping the old man - Iliketurtle

The delivery driver spat on the pavement, muttered something about "fucking grifters," and slammed his van door before peeling away with a screech of tires. Amelia barely noticed—her soft hands fluttered over the old man's shoulders like nervous butterflies. "Oh, you poor thing! Let me help you up," she murmured, oblivious to the way his fingers lingered just a second too long on the curve of her waist as she bent closer.

"Much obliged, darlin'," he wheezed, his voice suddenly stronger than his "injured" demeanor suggested. His gnarled hands clamped onto her hips with surprising firmness, and Amelia let out a little gasp as he hauled himself upright—using her plush backside as leverage. His palms slid upward, ostensibly for balance, but the rough pads of his thumbs dug into the swell of her ass through the thin fabric of her dress. "Whoops, my bad," he chuckled, not sounding sorry at all as his knuckles brushed the underside of her breasts while he "stumbled."

"Oh, goodness, your knee looks terrible!" Amelia fretted, biting her plump lower lip as she inspected the old man's "injury"—a faint scrape that wouldn't have warranted more than a bandaid if it were on her pampered son. "You simply must come inside and let me clean that for you. Marcus would never forgive me if I left a neighbor in distress!"

The old man—who introduced himself as "just plain Walter from down the block"—didn't so much limp as *leaned* into Amelia's soft curves as she guided him through the front door. His gnarled fingers dug into the plush flesh of her hip, ostensibly for support, but the way his thumb kept circling the sensitive dip just above her ass suggested otherwise. "Oh, careful on these steps, darlin'," he groaned theatrically, seizing the opportunity to press his entire wiry frame against her backside as they navigated the single step into the foyer. Amelia barely noticed; she was too busy fussing over the imaginary severity of his injury.

"Let's get you settled right here on the couch," she cooed, steering him toward the overstuffed leather sectional where Marcus usually sprawled after his shifts. Walter's knees buckled dramatically—a performance worthy of community theater—and he collapsed backward, dragging Amelia down with him. She yelped as her bare thighs straddled his lap, her sundress riding up to expose the delicate lace clinging to her round cheeks. Walter's hands "slipped" upward to steady her, fingers sinking deep into the supple flesh of her ass. "Whoa there, sugar! These old bones ain't what they used to be," he chuckled, giving her left cheek an appreciative squeeze that lasted three seconds too long.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" Amelia gasped, scrambling off his lap with a bounce that made her tits jiggle dangerously against her neckline. Walter's rheumy eyes tracked every movement like a starving dog eyeing a steak. She smoothed her dress down with nervous hands, oblivious to the tent now straining against his threadbare trousers. "Let me fetch the first aid kit—Marcus insists we keep one fully stocked," she prattled, hurrying toward the bathroom with that hypnotic sway in her hips. Walter adjusted himself with a grunt, fingers still tingling from the heat of her skin.

By the time she returned with antiseptic and gauze, Walter had managed to hike his pant leg up to mid-thigh, revealing perfectly healthy skin beneath. "Oh dear, it looks even worse up close," Amelia cooed breathlessly, kneeling between his spread legs with wide, concerned eyes. The position put her cleavage at perfect eye-level, and Walter didn't bother hiding his stare as she dabbed at the nonexistent wound. "You're so strong for enduring this," she murmured, biting her lip in concentration as his hand "absentmindedly" came to rest on the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her golden hair.

"Y'know, back in my day, I used to teach self-defense to the ladies at the community college," Walter lied smoothly, his gnarled fingers tightening slightly in Amelia's hair as she dabbed antiseptic on his knee with ridiculous care. His thigh muscle twitched under her delicate touch—more reflex than pain. "Had to retire after a bad hip injury, but I could still show a thing or two about handling yourself in a dangerous situation."

Amelia's ocean-blue eyes widened with naive admiration. "Oh my goodness, that's so impressive! Marcus is always saying I should learn some basic self-defense, but—" She giggled, the sound like wind chimes, as she peeled the backing off a bandage far too large for the tiny scrape. "I always figured strong men like you and him would protect little ol' me."