Tales of Dirty Old Man

This is a revised version of the first chapter. It was my first attempt at writing and it had a few flaws I wanted to correct. Also as the first in this story line there were a couple of plot lines I needed to realign and rebuild.

I describe myself as a wannabe dirty old man, not because I am one, but because as my best friend Karen keeps telling me, there is no higher accolade and so I should aim to be one.

Many thanks to Romantic1 for all his insight and help - any errors are mine

***************

In the beginning there was....

It was a hot summer's afternoon Mid-August of 2008. I'm sitting watching the world go by at a cafe in the south of France. My name is Andrew Morton, Andy to my friends. I'm fifty years old, five feet eleven and a half inches tall - the half inch is important you know! I'm slightly overweight - fifteen pounds. I'm working on it, it used to be twenty five.

My daughter tells me that her girlfriends consider me to be

ruggedly handsome

. To be honest all I think they mean is I'm well-worn around the edges. I've brown hair that's been going steadily grey for the past few years. Blue eyes and a tight cropped grey flecked beard. I had grown it as a bet during my first summer vacation from university, and have never had the courage to remove it. At heart I'm a wannabe dirty old man but I haven't had a lot of practice yet, but given half a chance I'll work on it I promise. I'm a widower with two grown up children. Ros my wife for 18 years had died four years earlier after a short battle with cancer. Now I'm trying to live the life we had had envisioned for ourselves.

We had met in Saudi Arabia at a close friend's birthday party. She'd only been in the magic kingdom for a couple of months and I was just coming up to the end of my first two year contract. We were both working at the same hospital. Ros was an ICU nurse and I was a Physiotherapist, in fact everyone at the party worked there.

I'd like to say it was love at first sight, but it's just not true. We spoke a few times, shared a drink or two, had a couple of dances, and that was it. Julia the birthday girl and my part time lover reclaimed me. As far as I recall we ended the night fucking our brains out with another couple right next to us.

Ros and I clicked at a dinner party a couple of months later. I was asked along to even the numbers up. Only Ros and I were not in a fully committed relationship so naturally we gravitated together. By the end of the evening we both realised there was something special growing between us.

It was the beginning of a very odd period in our lives. I had Julia and Ros had a casual physical relationship with Peter. But as the weeks past Ros and I grew closer.

I had known Julia back in the UK, we had first met when we trained at the same hospital. For a period of time we had lived together. It was a disaster; we had burnt ourselves out in six months. Afterwards we didn't talk for the next three, but missed each other. Then we realised that what we really were, was best friends with benefits. We both loved to travel and we took holidays together. We had found out from a friend about the Saudi contracts and the great travel benefits. It had sounded just what we had been looking for. The recruitment agency had places, we applied and were accepted. Three month later we were Saudi bound.

Our Saudi time had strengthened the relationship, and our dependence on each other, but we had both known that one day we would each find our ideal partner and our lives would change. Somehow I think we both suspected that even then we would never lose our attraction to each other.

Ros was the one for me and we both knew it!

We were married a year later, and we had a good marriage. In the beginning, either Julia or Peter or both would occasionally join us in our bed. After Julia met Mike Cunningham, the occasional four-some soon became a more regular five-some or some variation. The concept of the

family

was born. We would meet up wherever we were in the world, problems would be solved, new friends introduced and old friendships renewed. By default Ros and I seemed to become the central figures in the family.

The dynamics of our marriage, and the relationship with the others did change. As a group we grew and evolved, and stayed in touch. It was much like an extended family with brothers, sisters, nieces, and nephews spread all over the world. They would appear in ones and twos, usually for few days at a time, and we would reaffirm our connection. We would talk, cry, laugh, help each other and renew the memories of our bodies. It was a fairly select group at most there were twelve of us.

The last time the

'family'

was all together was at Ros' funeral. Some had flown half way round the world to say good bye to her. After the funeral we all travelled to the Yorkshire Dales to spread her ashes in her favourite spot. We celebrated her life in our own special way, and finally went our separate ways.

I needed time to rebuild my life and the children's. Kirsten had started university that year and Chris was in his last year of school. We needed to fill the vast void that her death had created for us. So I politely refused all the numerous requests I received from the family asking if they could visit or I visit them.

Two years later I took an early retirement. My mother had died that year and left me a healthy inheritance. With it and our savings and insurance, I was reasonably well off. But I still wanted to carry on with the dream we had had.

So I ordered the Dutch barge that had always been part of the dream. It took a year for it to be delivered and fitted out. Earlier in the year I sailed across the English Channel and on to the French river system. I began the journey that was supposed to have been the retirement Ros and I would share together. We had intended spending the next few years, slowly travelling the rivers and canals of Europe. We'd hoped we would be joined regularly by our children and our

'extended family'

. Other times we had intended to carry the occasional paying guest(s), to stretch our finances and that was still my ambition.

Since the beginning of the year, I had been alone. I slowly got to grips with the boat, and the idea that our great joint adventure was now a solo one. Other than one brief memorable visit from a friend, my only visitors had been the children with a couple of their friends

The Rosie M (yes, the boat is named in her honour) isn't a luxury yacht but she is comfortable. She has all the modern conveniences and is the ideal live aboard boat. The boat is seventy-five feet long with a fourteen foot beam; her size and height above the waterline is dictated by the size of the canals, locks, and bridges. Below deck she has two double sleeping cabins with attached bathrooms. The master cabin is in the bow and the guest cabin in the stern. There is also a small single bed cabin. There was a reasonable sized main cabin with a galley to the rear and a wheelhouse with a collapsible roof, seating and a table. The roof of the rear cabin doubles as a sun deck, with loungers, table and chairs, and a barbecue.

A couple of months earlier, I'd mentioned on my Facebook page that I finally felt that Rosie and I were ready for guests to stay, paying or not. I immediately received a message from Julia and Mike that they would be in the UK over the summer visiting family and friends, and please could they be my first guests. I had agreed without hesitation. I had really missed them, and to be honest I was feeling lonely.

*****************

Meeting Simone

Mike and Julia were due to arrive the second weekend in August. We had agreed I would pick them up from the small town of La Rochelle on the River Rhone in the south of France. Being eager to see them again, I'd arrived at the village a couple of days early. I had moored Rosie on the outskirts of the picturesque village. While I was waiting for them to arrive I spent the spare time exploring the local vicinity. I especially loved the sidewalk cafes. I was enjoying the local food and wine and fine tuning my personal favourite sport, people watching. My daughter had given me a nice camera for my birthday couple of years ago and I was making full use of it.

I found it enjoyable to sit at the different sidewalk cafés on the town square watching the world go by. Earlier in the day I had managed to get great shots. Including some amazing candid close ups of the faces of the old men playing Boules in the dappled shade of the leafy trees surrounding the square.

I was enjoying a glass of the local red wine. I recall the taste from the summer holidays of my youth. I have always associated it with the long summer evenings in the south of France

Earlier I had enjoyed a cup of dark roast coffee, and some of those French pastries, which I, personally, think are to die for. Of course I couldn't help but admire the women as they sashayed past swinging their hips in that wonderful way that French women seemed to have perfected.

It was my last free afternoon, and I sat at my favourite cafe in the dappled shade enjoying the beauty of my surroundings. My full wine glass sat on the table. Lisette the cute young waitress was very attentive, never letting my glass stay empty for long.

I was playing with my camera waiting to see if I could get any better shots of the Boule players when I caught sight of a golden haired beauty entered the square.

It was one of those pivotal moments in your life. I couldn't drag my eyes away from her. I felt pole-axed and I had to remind myself to breathe. She had that inner glow that made it look like a sun beam was following her across the square. She was five foot eight, a slim, long legged beauty. She was wearing a short light blue sundress with a tight bodice that couldn't hide the fact she was not wearing a bra. Her breasts if she had been wearing a bra would have needed a C cup. Her erect nipples pushed the fabric out in a most delightful way. I guessed she was in her early to mid-thirties

I raised the camera to my eye and peered through the viewfinder, focusing on her. I had this odd feeling that I had seen her before but I couldn't place the where or when. I thumbed the zoom button and her face leapt out at me. Blue eyes, exquisite cheeks dotted with the odd freckle. A cute nose and the most kissable pair of lips stared back at me. A quick couple of exposures later and I zoomed out a bit and could see that her breasts were barely contained by the dress's top, the top three buttons were open and there was a delightful hint of her cleavage to the gap.

I kept zooming out to try to keep her face and chest centred in the view finder (I can never see the damn LCD screen in bright sunlight). I kept exposing until I realised that there was no more adjustment left and she still filled the viewfinder. I opened my other eye and found her standing on the other side of the table with a less than amused expression on her face.

She said, "Vous aimez ce que vous voyez?" My brain struggled to translate her question. She looked at me then repeated the question in English, "Do you like what you see?"

I managed to blurt out, "Err, of course, most definitely, who wouldn't?"

Oh way to go Andy, you sound like teenager with his first crush

. I thought.

I continued, "Please, you've just made my day. Would you like a drink and see what caught my eye?" Christ, I was so nervous. My thoughts were a mess while my body was responding in overdrive mode.

"Not just your eye," she smirked, starring in the direction of my lap as I belatedly tried to hide the evidence of my interest with a serviette.

She pulled up a chair from a nearby table and sat down beside me.

She said, "Can I see please?" and she held out her hand for the camera.

I switched it to replay mode and offered it to her. The LCD screen lit up and she leaned forward to shield it from the sunlight. The front of the dress gaped open even further, and I could see the most beautiful light coffee coloured nipple. I groaned silently as my poor cock got even harder, pushing at the constraints of my cargo shorts. Thank god I'd lost a bit of weight recently otherwise I would have been in agony. Her lips twitched as she tried to hide a smile as she glanced sideways, taking in my obvious discomfort.

She stated, "I see you have identified my best features," pointing at the image on the screen.

I looked down and saw an image displayed that framed her head and the swelling of her breasts. She was facing slightly to her left and her right breast with its delightful nipple and prominent areola was just visible in the gap of her dress.

I said, "That true but I do wish you had come in from the other direction so I could admire the rest."

"Why would that be?"

"Because then the sunlight would have been behind you."

Oh god, had I really said that?

I thought I had completely blown it. She stood up suddenly and pushed the camera back into my hands. She spun on her heels and walked away from me.

Why in god's name hadn't I kept my mouth shut?

I shut my eyes praying to the gods that she wasn't leaving. I kept fumbling for the cameras off switch.

From twenty feet away I heard her say, "Well, what are you waiting for?"

I opened my eyes and looked up; there she was partially facing me with the sun behind her. The outline of her body was clearly visible through the thin material of her dress. Her body was magnificent, and the hints of her breasts were the stuff of a wet dream.

Then, as she faced away, the sunlight flowed between her legs and I could see just a hint of the outline of her pussy lips. I raised the camera to my eye and watched her slowly start to rotate. I kept my finger on the exposure button. Thank god for digital cameras with a large capacity memory cards. I must have taken at least fifty images in the ten or so seconds it took for her to spin around twice, laughing and holding her arms out.

I lowered the camera and couldn't keep the grin off my face; she gave me a wry smiled back and walked towards me. Sitting down she held her hand out for the camera. I thought she wanted to look again but instead she raised it to her eye, pointed it in my direction and started to take my photo.

Not my face, but the very prominent bulge in my shorts.

"This should convince you that this was real and not a dream."

I laughed and said desperately because I didn't want her to leave: "I'm Andy and I'm very pleased to meet you."

She said, "I'm Simone and I think I'm pleased to meet you, but the jury is still out."

I attracted the attention of the very friendly young waitress who had been looking after me for the past two days and ordered more wine and some of the local sausages and cheese. While we waited for the food and wine to arrive I asked her a bit about herself, but other than she lived locally and she was in her early thirty's I learnt little.

The food and wine arrived and we tasted it. Simone looked back to the camera and started to scroll back through the images. Her lips pursed and the tip of her tongue peeked out as she concentrated on the images displayed on the screen. I passed the glass to her and she sipped from it as she continued to look at the images stored in the camera. She smiled at the images of herself. She commented that one of the Boule players was her neighbour and she had never seen him smile before.

Simone continued to scroll through the images taking her time, she suddenly stiffened, and her face froze in an expression of....well I'm not sure of what. I glanced at the image and I stiffened as well. My poor cock, which had managed to regain his composure, reversed direction and started to tent out my shorts again.

There on the screen was the image of a naked woman relaxing on my bed. Christ I'd forgotten those images were still on the memory card. I'm sure I had deleted them. It was Jane, a very dear old friend; she had just turned up earlier in the year and stayed a couple of days. On the last evening she had very graciously shown me that there was the possibility of life after Ros. She had spotted the camera and insisted that I shoot some mementos of the visit.

After several shots, which had gotten more and more explicit, I had propped the camera up on a shelf, set the multi exposure delay timer and joined her on the bed for an evening of love, passion and friendship. I really thought I'd deleted these images after downloading them.

As Simone scrolled on, the images became more graphic and my embarrassment and arousal grew, I didn't think that I could get any harder but apparently I could for two reasons: the memory of Jane and watching Simone's reaction to the photos. I noticed that her breathing had increased and that a red flush was slowly creeping up her chest in the direction of her face. Her nipples were even more pronounced - if that was possible? She slid forwarded on the chair until her buttocks were perched on the edge and the hem of the dress slid up her tanned, perfectly formed legs until I could see the hint of her white thong.

Her hand stretched out and grasped my thigh as she continued to scroll through the images. The hand moved across into my lap and grasped my fully hard member through my shorts; I gasped and turned in towards her in order to mask her activity from the passing public.

She started rocking slowly back and forward on the edge of the chair with her head bent forward and she started to quietly pant. I took her hand and pulled her towards me, put my arms around her and kissed her full on the lips. She moved her head back and looked me in my eyes, smiled and pointed at the bed in the photo.

She said "I can't explain, even to myself why I'm asking this, but is your bed close by?"

"Yes," I said and stood up.

She looked shocked at herself for even asking. "I really don't want you to think I do this with every man I meet. In fact, I've never done what I'm about to do, but you and your photographs have turned me on."

I dropped a fifty euro note onto the table and picked up the camera that had led us to this point. I took Simone's hand and drew her up. She pulled me close and put her arm around my waist and placed mine around her shoulder with my hand resting on the curve of her breast. As we strolled across the almost empty square, towards the canal she rested her head on my shoulder and sighed most delightfully, a sound that travelled around my body and stirred my heart.

Rosie was just five minutes away and when Simone saw our destination she gave a happy laugh.

"Oh, it's a boat," she exclaimed. "I wasn't sure what it was, but I hadn't thought of a boat. I thought you might have had a caravan?"

"Well I live on her and I'm not fixed to one place so you were sort of right."

She said, "But he's a beautiful boat."

I corrected her, "Not a he, but a she. All boats deserve to be a she, and she's named after my late wife."

And I must admit Rosie did look beautiful that day. The late afternoon sun reflecting off her dark blue hull, cream and blue uppers, polished brass and mahogany trim.

"A beautiful she, she must have been," Simone agreed and as she stepped onto the deck and looked around I heard her whisper to herself, "Oh yes, I'm so sorry, you could never be a he."

I unlocked the wheelhouse door and we entered. I led her down into the main living area and then stopped and looked at her.

I asked. "Are you sure you want to do this. If you want say no I do understand."

She went and sat down on the sofa and I sat down beside her.

She said hesitantly, "Yesss..." then more confidently, "I am, it's just been a long time since I have even thought about men, let alone sex. I saw you sitting there and the pleasure you got from watching the people around you. Then there was the look of passion, trust and happiness in the eyes of the woman in the photos."