Chronicles of a Changed Man 01

"So now, Mr Murphy" she said "You know all about me from last time, so why don't you tell me all about you."

So I did. I spoke of my childhood growing up in Ireland, meeting my wife, Martha, in England when I went to work there as a young man, although I omitted my struggles with alcohol dependency. I told her about my two children, Oonagh, my daughter and my son Sean, but I didn't mention that we were estranged or why. In truth, at the time I didn't know myself.

As per our previous visit, we chatted easily and comfortably about a whole range of topics and even shared a laugh or two on discovering that our senses of humour were similar. My own sense of humour had been so long suppressed, I would have considered it beyond resurrecting, yet here I was for the first time in many a long year enjoying a laugh in the most unlikely of company for a man of such advanced years.

By the end of the hour long visit we were so comfortable with each other that she pecked me on the cheek as she was leaving. She hadn't replaced her jacket and her T-shirt clad breasts with discernible nipple buds pressed against my chest through my thin shirt as she leaned in to kiss my cheek. My penis, which had subsided during the course of the visit, given the innocent nature of the topics discussed, began to stir again. As I watched her swaying backside all the way down the corridor, it quickly grew to a throbbing erection by the time she turned the corner at the end. She would be coming back for her last visit the following Thursday and my awakening desire was tempered by the knowledge that she would soon be returning to South Africa and her fiancee.

This was my over-riding concern as I closed the door to my comfortable but increasingly lonely studio apartment, Tina would be coming to visit me for the last time next week and I would miss her when she was gone. How could this be happening? How could I be entertaining thoughts of companionship and romance with this beautiful young woman nearly forty years younger than me, whom I'd only known essentially, for a few hours. It was absurd in the extreme, I told myself to be sensible, she was engaged to be married to her childhood sweetheart back in South Africa and even if she was single, living next door, there was no way that anything could ever come of my infatuation

I struggled fiercely with my emotions and desires over the next few days! In mass, I prayed fervently to be released from this impossible infatuation and be rid of the insidious lechery that was assailing me. I asked the Virgin Mary to banish the images of Tina's flimsy lace clad breasts beneath her T-shirt and her delectable backside which kept popping into my head. I prayed for strength of mind to prevent myself being sexually aroused by the aforementioned images, but to no avail, and I got many full blooded erections the following week thinking about beautiful, sexy Tina. Yet it never crossed my mind to masturbate, it just never did.

I had loved Martha deeply and our sex life had been adequate, although it might seem boring to some, I was happy to make love two or three times a month just before we went to sleep and always with the lights out. To my acute embarrassment, Martha told me she had discussed it with the priest and the father had told her that it was perfectly all right, in the eyes of God and the church, for a husband to be allowed his conjugal rights from time to time. Better that than he be tempted to spill his seed on the ground, for to do so was a mortal sin, so Martha would never have condoned masturbation and I never felt the urge to. I never knew which priest had given Martha the reassurance about allowing me my conjugal rights, but as she always insisted on talking to them all at every possible opportunity, many's the excruciatingly cringing moment I had to endure in her company as she spoke to any one of them.

Tina arrived the next Thursday afternoon dressed in a knee-length skirt and blouse with her legs clad in sheer, dark nylon stockings, or tights, and a pair of high heeled shoes. She was carrying a jacket which she draped over the back of one of the armchairs after she'd come in, before sitting down. She was wearing make up for the first time that I could gather or maybe I just hadn't noticed before. It was just a hint of shadow on her eyelids, a smattering of rouge on her cheekbones and a touch of pale pink lip gloss, all very understated but on Tina it made her look absolutely beautiful. Her hair was shiny silk as always.

After I had made the beverages and brought them, with a plate of biscuits to the coffee table, I sat down opposite her as usual and tried to converse, but I was struggling to relax and my unease was causing a palpable tension in the air.

"You seem tense today, Mr Murphy, is there something wrong?" she asked eventually picking up on my uneasiness.

"No, no Tina" I answered, "There's nothing wrong." an awkward silence followed before I tried to continue casually.

"So, you'll be off to South Africa, when is it again, Tuesday?"

"Yeah," she said "Tuesday morning at eleven, well the flight's not until a quarter past twelve but, you know yourself, have to check-in and all that palaver." Then she teased me, "Awh, is that it is, Mr Murphy? Are you going to miss me?"

She leaned forward to give the back of my hand a rub of consolation and the mere touch of her fingers on my flesh ignited a tingling sensation at that base of my penis. This was compounded into an ache by the fact that as she leant forward, her chest pushed against her open necked blouse and I caught a brief glimpse of an inch or two of soft, shadowy cleavage. My penis began to twitch and grow as it had done so many times during that week, thinking about her.

"That's so sweet." she said with a smile as she withdrew her hand and sat back a little in the chair making the cleavage disappear behind the closing blouse.

"Well, I have enjoyed our little chats." I admitted with a concentrated effort to keep my voice steady.

"So have I." she said "And I'm going to miss you too."

Then she leaned even further forward and touched the back of my hand again, extending her carress up my wrist to the cuff of my shirt where she let her hand rest for a prolonged moment. As she was looking directly into my eyes while she spoke, I dared not look at what I knew would be a more generous offering of cleavage on display. Once again, she withdrew her hand, only this time she didn't sit back, she remained leaning forward, looked away pensively as she dropped the hand to scratch lightly at an irritant on the instep of her foot, under the rim of her high heeled shoe.

"Still, I'm really looking forward to getting home, and seeing everybody, especially Eric."

I had the distinct impression that she deliberately prolonged the moment in this position with her eyes averted to allow me a chance to take a good look down her blouse. I couldn't resist and when I did, I was able to see a clear six inches of cleavage between the tops of her soft breasts where they swelled from the uplift of her bra. She eventually did sit back and I looked away as I felt her eyes returning to seek mine with a slow, deliberately delayed turn of her head in my direction and I knew it was a carefully orchestrated moment to spare me the shame of her catching me looking at her cleavage. I was able to meet her renewed visual engagement as if I too had been looking elsewhere other than down her blouse. It was a masterfully executed moment of tease and titillation, affording me the time to look while providing me the means to avoid the embarrassment of detection.

"Aye," I said, "I'm sure they'll all be glad to see you too, especially your lad, Eric."

"I'm sure he will." she answered wistfully as she leaned back in the chair, clasping her hands around her knee and pulling it slightly upwards and towards her, lifting her skirt just a little in the process.

"How long have you known him?" I asked, feigning an interest in her relationship with her fiancee while wondering if I was adequately concealing my misplaced jealousy. "I mean in total, when did you first meet him." I felt compelled to add, knowing already that they had been childhood sweethearts.

"I've known him since I was ten Mr Murphy." she answered openly.

"Ten?" was all I could say in response.

"Yeah, we were only kids when we first became neighbours." she said. "Then I developed a crush on him when I became a teenager, but he didn't seem to notice me until much later, I was nineteen and he was twenty one. That was when we finally got together, at his twenty first birthday party."

"So you've been together now for seven years." I surmised.

"Yeah." she answered, looking longingly into space and pulling a little harder on her knee, raising her skirt slightly higher. I supposed she was subconsciously hugging him to her, but all I could think of was that now I could see a few inches above her nylon clad knee.

"Is he good to you?" I asked, old fashionedly.

"Oh yes, he's very good to me." she answered, releasing her knee and reclining further back in the chair.

Her skirt remained just a couple of inches above her knees as she stretched her long shapely legs out in front of her and crossed one slender ankle over the other. She let her hands fall together in her lap with her fingers loosely intertwined. In this position her breasts strained against the fabric at the front of her blouse, parting the seams between the top buttons. I could clearly see a little of the laced edge bands of her bra cups where they pressed softly into the pliable flesh of her breasts.

By the distant expression on her face I gathered that she was enjoying some personal past memories or future plans and dared not intrude on her privacy. Besides, I was enjoying looking at her exposed bra and outstretched legs as she seemed to drift further into her thoughts and my penis began to awaken.

"You see I was a late developer, Mr Murphy." she said absent-mindedly. "That's why he took so long to notice me. Other girls my age were filling out in all the right places, all curvy boobs and bums. But I was just growing straight up, gangly and spindly, I had such horrible skinny legs and bony knees when I was younger."

"They're very nice legs now." I offered aloud inadvertently. "If you don't mind me saying." adding by way of excusing my imprudence. She glanced at me briefly with a pleasant smile before looking down her long, outstretched legs.

"I suppose they're not bad." she said modestly as, to my amazement, she placed her hands on her skirt and hitched the hem up to about mid-thigh. Then she uncrossed her ankles and placed her feet together and bent her knees sideways, first to one side, then the other to scrutinize the full length of her exposed legs. "I must admit though, these stockings do show them off to their best." she added.

"I was wondering if they were stockings or tights." I said, this time with only feigned innocence while wiping my sweating palms together. I was beginning to feel that this was all orchestrated and I shamelessly wanted to participate, ready to see it to whatever outcome my titillating companion had planned.

"Oh, I always wear stockings" she said matter-of-factly. "Eric would never hear of me wearing tights."

Appearing to be oblivious to my presence, Tina focused her attention totally on her legs as she drew her hands up her thighs, drawing the hem of her skirt tantalizingly up to, and beyond her stocking tops. I could now see several inches of her olive skinned upper legs as she continued to adjust her stockings around her upper thighs and my penis was now a fully fledged throbbing erection.

The height to which Tina had drawn her skirt revealed a small triangle of white knickers at the juncture of her thighs and lower torso, but, totally engrossed in watching her adjust her stocking tops and admiring her long, shapely legs I had not been paying much attention to it.

Finally satisfied with her stockings, Tina's attention seemed to be suddenly drawn by something in the area of her exposed knickers. Lifting her skirt up even further, she parted her legs slightly and pressed her fingers flatly over her lower abdomen, to minutely scrutinize, first on one side, then the other side of the lace triangle.

"I need to trim again." she said to herself, lost in her observations and seemingly unaware of my presence in the room. I dared not speak for fear of reminding her as she hitched her skirt right up to her waist to better carry out her inspection. She ran her index fingers the full length up the elasticated sides of her knickers before slipping her fingertips under the bands. I gulped dryly as she then pulled the legs of the undergarment in towards the centre of her groin. The blood thumped in my temples and my heartbeat intensified as she pulled the fabric into a narrow band over her vagina, exposing the rest of her thatch of silky pubic hair in its entirety.

"I didn't start developing pussy hair until I was seventeen." she said musingly as she held the narrow strip of bunched lace in place with one hand while tugging gently at her pubic hair with the fingers of the other. My erection twitched and my mouth went so dry that I had to reach for my cup to take a sip of coffee, making the cup rattle loudly on the saucer with my trembling hand as I did so. Tina didn't seem to notice

"It took ages to grow, it was two years before I had a full bush." She continued unperturbed while rolling the soft curls between her fingers, as a silk merchant might do when examining a specimen of expensive fabric.

"Lots of girls my age shave their pussies or get Brazilians because they or their boyfriends like it, but Eric prefers mine natural, I wanted to get a Brazilian but he wouldn't hear of it"

I know my Martha used to shave her shins and under her arms, but I had no idea that girls did what Tina was going on about and as to what a 'Brazilian' was, I was totally ignorant.

This was merely a brief reflection while my heart was pumping blood through my veins at a dangerous speed for a man of my advanced years as I watched Tina musing over her exposed pubic hair. After feasting my eyes on it for several moments I became acutely aware that just a thin strip of flimsy lace was all that prevented me seeing her vagina. In a flash of pathetic revelation, I realized that I had never in my life been in the same room as a naked woman with the lights on. I was suddenly overwhelmed by a desperate, uncontrollable need to see this beautiful young lady's vagina.

"Let me see your - thingy." I heard someone plead breathlessly and it was a second or two before I realized that it was I who had spoken. I had even gestured unwittingly with a shaky hand towards Tina's barely concealed womanhood.

She looked up at me suddenly, as if I was a hypnotist who had just clicked my fingers to summon her out of a deep trance.

"No!" she said emphatically, quickly replacing her knickers over her pubic hair. But there was a frolicsome laugh in her voice and she was smiling broadly so I was encouraged to persist.

"Oh please love" I pleaded pathetically.

"No!" she answered again, as emphatically as before, but with the same underlying laughter and smile on her face.

"God, I can't believe I just did that, let you see my pussy hair like that." She said as she straightened up in the chair and began to replace her skirt back over her stockinged thighs.

"Please Tina, I'll give you twenty euros." I heard myself plead and was immediately horrified at my own indiscretion.

"No!" she answered not as emphatically as before, but with a softness that was infused with comprehension of my understandable desire and perhaps a little guilt for having brought about the situation herself.

"Oh, go on, I'll give you thirty euros, please." I begged uncontrollably, encouraged by her compassionate demeanor and compelled by my raging lust.

"No." was her answer again, but she looked at me with such sympathy that I felt her resolve was weakening and in my desperation I ploughed on.

"Tina, please love," I appealed to her by name, often a deal clincher, personalize!. "I've never actually seen a real one, I'll give you forty euro."

This time Tina remained completely silent and let the smile fade from her pretty face. By now she had replaced her skirt entirely and was sitting up straight in the chair with her legs crossed and her hands clasped over her knee. Her demeanour became so staid that the sudden and mortifying thought occurred to me that I must have made a terrible mistake and deeply offended this young lady. I was filled with a horrible sense of remorse and dreadful embarrassment, my penis flagged shamefully and recoiled to a shrivelled wretch of a thing in my long johns.

"Oh Tina I'm sorry." I told her genuinely. "I don't know what came over me, love. I had no right to treat you like that."

"It's ok, really." she said, looking up at me with such a compassionate expression that I felt it was indeed ok and I thought to myself that this really is a wonderful young woman. Although I detected a hint of perplexity on her features it didn't register with me immediately, such was my mortification at the hideous misjudgment I had just made.

"Would you like more coffee?" I asked her with forced enthusiasm after I had taken a moment to compose myself.

"No thanks Mr Murphy" she declined, a quizzical expression faintly creasing her brow.

"Right so" I said and an awkward silence descended on the apartment during which I began to think that maybe it wasn't ok after all. Yes, she might be a very understanding and forgiving person but that didn't excuse what I had just done, or at least, attempted to do, no matter how innocently I had misinterpreted the situation. Tina's eyes dropped to the floor and began to study a point on the pine panelled flooring.

"You'll be off Tuesday so." I tried again a little later when the silence had become unbearable.

"I will, Mr Murphy." she answered, glancing up at me and smiling briefly before her eyes roamed to another point on the floor which she contemplated more intently than she had the previous one.

"Are you all packed and ready?" I asked stupidly.

"Not really." Tina answered without further explanation while continuing to look at the pine panelling.

The silence deepened and became more awkward as I found my own point on the floor to contemplate while I waited forlornly for her to make her excuses and leave. I began to weigh up in my mind how she must have seen me at that moment. Just a dirty old man, trying to take advantage of the fact that she had slipped into a reverie while thinking about the young man she obviously loved. I was stewing in self loathing, thinking about how I had disgustingly offered her forty euro to let me see her vagina.....

"Fifty."

..... treating her like a common prostitute and....

"Pardon?"

"Fifty." she repeated, now fixing me with a mischievous grin when I looked up at her.

"What?" I asked incredulously "You mean you'll......?"

"Yes, I'll let you see my - 'thingy' - for fifty euro." she confirmed with a gleam in her eye that hadn't previously been there.

I quickly forgot all my self loathing and got out of my chair as fast as my sixty year old limbs would allow and reached into my back pocket for the thirty euro I knew I had there. She laughed brightly at my adolescent eagerness as I pushed it into her palm and then went to a drawer where I always kept a twenty euro note in a diary, just in case of emergencies. I deposited this in her hand with the other notes as Tina grinned broadly at me.

"Are you sure Mr Murphy?" she asked "I don't want to be taking your last few euro." I was a little disconcerted at the lack of sincerity in her voice and the fact that her amused expression belied any real concern at relieving me of the last of my funds. However, my disconcertion was assuaged by my raging desire to see her naked vagina.