My Liam

I had always been a shy girl. My father, for all that I respected him, could behave rather forcefully -- mostly with his voice and language -- and my mother sometimes related cautionary tales about the nasty things that some males might occasionally do. Even my interest in secondary school boys had been hampered by my shyness of their boisterous behaviour.

So when I finished secondary school I was rather nervous about starting at university. I had grown up in a country town where even the local area secondary school was quite small, and transferring to a large university seemed a big challenge. Adding to my apprehension was the thought of having to board with strangers.

My anxiety on this last point was a little assuaged when my mother was able to arrange accommodation for me with a cousin of hers, and his wife. She told me a bit about them. Liam was a fair bit younger than her, only about 38 or so, and Louisa a little younger still, and their friends and relations had playfully nicknamed them "L&L" or just "LNL." Sadly, they had lost a son about ten years previously and couldn't have any more children. Mum assured me that Liam was a nice man and she thought I would be very happy and comfortable living with them.

And so the day came when my parents kissed their 18-year-old Nola goodbye and I nervously set off for the big wide world. It had been arranged that I would take a cab from the train station to "LNL's" home, which proved to be a very nice house. Louisa welcomed me warmly. She showed me where everything was, including my room and the bathroom, adding that if I ever found the bathroom occupied I was welcome to use their ensuite. Then she helped me to unpack and make use of the wardrobe and drawers, explaining that Liam would be home from his day job later.

I had already started feeling more relaxed about my new living arrangements as I settled into my room and chatted with Louisa on and off until Liam arrived. And my mother had been right -- Liam was indeed a very nice man, quietly spoken if also reserved, almost shy actually. When we met he just smiled and said simply "Hello, Nola" without any fuss.

That was my first meeting with him but subsequently, time and again, he proved to be ever so kind, caring and sensitive. There was the time Louisa, worn out after cleaning the house, became frustrated and annoyed on then seeing the state of my room. It was the first time she had spoken sharply to me. I was cut to the quick afterwards and Liam could sense my distress. He came alongside me and took my hand gently, saying "It'll be all right, darling. Louie does get cranky at times but it will blow over. Go and fix up your room now; you'll be all right, sweetheart." It must not have been easy for someone of his reserved nature to speak so tenderly and I could appreciate his compassion.

I'm embarrassed to confess it but, even at my adult age, I began to develop quite a consuming infatuation with kind, gentle Liam. He had called me Sweetheart and Darling and was very empathetic. I fantasised about being his girlfriend or his wife, about sharing life with him in that nice house, about gentle embraces and caresses and kisses. And in that mindset, I thirsted to know all about him -- secretly monitoring his movements and actions, observing what he liked in food, conversation, books, TV; and looking for anything I could learn about him.

One night I was going past their closed bedroom when the phone rang in the kitchen and Louisa came out to answer it. As she passed me I noticed that she had not quite shut the bedroom door. It was unlatched and still open about an inch. I could see movement through the gap and on the spur of the moment saw this as a chance to check out what my adored Liam might be doing. Louisa was obviously settling down for a long phone conversation so, keeping a safe distance from the gap, I carefully peered in.

Honestly, in my excitement it had not occurred to me that Liam might be getting ready for bed. I could only see from an angle but was surprised to see him facing away from the door, at the foot of the bed, in pyjama top and a pair of dark blue jocks. I knew I was not supposed to see him like that but it was gratifying to know what colour Liam's undies were -- just a bit more information about my beloved! I could also see that his legs were not the most muscular but quite nicely proportioned and smooth-skinned.

I guessed he would now put his PJ shorts on -- but then his hands lifted the back of his top and went to the elastic waistband of his jocks. My heart missed a beat as I realised he was going to take them off.

Of course, I should have stopped looking then and there, but I just couldn't pass up this once-in-a-lifetime chance at a prize bit of closeness to my cherished Liam -- a look at his bottom! So I waited while the jocks shifted down, the top of his crack came into view, and at last I could see my Liam's bottom, completely exposed. I felt a real tenderness for him as I fondly gazed at his two neat buns and my eyes lovingly followed his crack, from the top end down to where it curved underneath, ending with a few light hairs and the secret "naughty place" hidden between his cheeks.

Liam kicked his jocks aside and picked up his PJ shorts from the bed, and as he stepped into them I knew that the delightful display was about to end. I finally turned away with a sigh, but it was a very contented sigh -- I had had a pretty good look at my adored one's intimate landscape!

It all left me with a wonderfully warm feeling. In those magical few minutes, Liam had been all mine. And I knew that whenever I talked with my dearest now, I would be able to remember his bottom.