Bit of a long story this one, but I know most of you lot don't like strung out chapters as a rule. So get yourself a nice drink and settle down. No hard sex here I'm afraid, and it's even got a happy ending, so you've been warned.
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It all started out as a fairly ordinary evening ------- a few drinks at the bar at one of the hotels in town, then on for a meal and then home.
It was something that Jill, my lovely young wife and I did every couple of weeks or so, though we'd pushed the boat out a bit that night and gone to somewhere a bit posher than normal. Maybe the way that Jill dressed for that night might have given me some clue, but then she always looked fantastic.
Jill always dressed nice and had the body for it. Breasts too small for many guys choice, but what she had was firm and shapely, like the two juicy plump pears sticking out from her slim body, her long nipples like stalks, only adding to the impression. The advantage for me of having a girl like that was that a bra was pretty well superfluous, and the single one that she owned, she very seldom wore.
And not that her boobs looked out of proportion either, Jill being five foot four or so, with a slender frame, not skinny or anything, but always felt so tiny and fragile when I held her in my arms.
Her legs were maybe her best feature, again on the slim side, but very long with a nice shape to them, and looked fabulous in any form of high heel shoes. Some how Jill used those legs of hers to compensate for her lack of inches up top, her longest skirts seldom reaching more than half way down her thighs.
Then again ---- Oh boy ---- You should see what Jill could do to a pair of tight jeans.
No ---- My Jill was slim all right, but not skinny nor shapeless. Think of some of the top catwalk models, scale them down seven or eight inches in height, and there you have her ----- My wife Jill.
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She hadn't always been so confident about her appearance, and when I'd first met her some years ago at a friend's house, all she ever wore were baggy jeans and an even more shapeless sweater.
Hiding it she was ----- ashamed of her tits, or lack of them that is, and doing her level best to camouflage what she did have.
I vaguely remember the next few times I ran into her, thinking that she had a pretty face, and that her hair looked nice in the pony tail that she habitually wore.
Quite sweet really.
But beyond that ----- Nothing, absolutely zilch ------ Hardly even remembered her name.
Then one weekend we all went swimming at the local baths. Nothing special, no sunbathing or anything, just a few hours swimming up and down, and playing around a little.
There were six girls there that day, five in bikinis and Jill. She wore a modest one piece that her grandmother could have worn, but even so, it couldn't hide from my eyes what her baggy clothes had been carefully covering up for the previous few months.
She was really rather gorgeous!
OK ---- very slim ------ Maybe too slim if you like your women curvaceous, but never skinny, her toned body being too shapely for that.
I couldn't take my eyes off her. I couldn't believe it was the same woman.
"Seen something you like Glen," asked my best friend's wife Wendy, grinning at me knowingly.
"Eh ---- Well ---- I never realised she was so ---- Well ----- So ........."
"I know what you mean Glen," went on Wendy. "I wish I was as slim as that, and had a body like that, but she keeps it hidden. She's a damn fool."
"Oh you're not too bad Wendy," I said, putting my foot in it somewhat. "That is, what I mean is ....."
"I know what you mean Glen," Wendy told me laughing at my embarrassment. "I'm not your sort, but don't worry some guys love big busty girls like me, and fortunately my hubby is one of them."
I grinned at her, nodding my head in agreement, thankful that she'd let me off the hook.
"Go and talk to her Glen," Wendy suggested. "Jill hasn't been out with any men for far too long."
"Jill?" I repeated, slightly ashamed that I hadn't even remembered her name, even though I'd been in her company a number of times already. "Hasn't got a boy friend you say."
"She had a long term guy that she went out with for years," carried on my personal matchmaker. "Her and John went out together when they were at school, and it just carried on."
"What happened?" I asked, any bit of information on Jill being of interest to me at that point.
"He got fed up because he couldn't get into her pants," explained Wendy quite matter of factly. "We all warned her ---- told her to loosen up but she wouldn't. Then she caught him one evening screwing some girl from where he worked in his car, and that was that."
"And she's never had another boyfriend then?" I queried cautiously.
"Not really," she replied, pulling a sad face. "Not to speak of."
"So she's still a virgin then?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.
"Oh good God no Greg," Wendy cried out giggling. "She went barmy for six months after that. Gave herself to anyone who so much as spoke to her nicely ---- became a proper slut for a while. I suppose it was her attempt at getting back at him."
"How sad." My heart sort of went out to her. "Then what?"
"She never told us, but I think she had a scare with some STD. Nothing serious you understand. Don't know if she actually caught it or not, but it gave her a jolt and she straightened herself out."
STD ---- Oh bloody hell! ---- That was a bit off putting, but Wendy saw my look of apprehension.
"Don't worry about the STD," She told me. "It's not uncommon you know. I've had it twice and I've got over it Greg. Just a matter of a few injections."
"Right ---- Yes -------- OK Wendy," I mumbled uncomfortably.
What an eye opener!
Maybe I should be a bit fussier about my friends in future.
Didn't mean that I wasn't really taken with Jill though, and I made a point of being close up by her for the next half hour while we all frolicked in the pool.
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Took me nearly two weeks to get around to actually asking her out, and when I did, her reaction surprised me.
"You Greg," she replied in obvious surprise. "You want me to go out with you?"
"That's what I just asked Jill," I happily reminded her. "What's wrong with me?"
"But you're ----- Well you're sort of ------ Well good looking and you've got a posh sports car and lot's of money. What do you want with a girl like me?"
"Ok," I replied, trying not to break out laughing. "I have got a sports car, and maybe if I didn't have it, then I might have plenty of money. I just fancy you Jill ---- What's so odd about that?"
"You mean it?" Jill asked me nervously. "You really fancy little me?"
"Of course I do," I shot back grinning.
"You're not just teasing me are you?" She asked, apprehensively.
"No Jill," I told her taking her hand in mine. "You're an attractive girl. Why shouldn't I fancy you?"
"But I'm so skinny," she whined. "I've got no boobs or anything. Men just don't fancy me."
"You're not, you have and I do."
Seemed to sum up her objections, and as the significance of my answer dawned on her, a smile broke out on her face that just about melted my heart.
I guess looking back that it was that very moment that I started to fall in love with my future wife Jill.
"You won't let me down will you?" She asked quietly.
"Never," I replied, and I really meant it.
"I've been let down by a number of guys in my life."
"I promise," I assured her.
"Ok then Greg," Jill accepted my offer, grinning more happily than I think I had ever seen her till then.
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Our courtship was fantastic, and by the way I did discover that the STD thing was simply a scare. Not that it would have made any difference to me by then, but none the less it was a bit of a relief.
The first date we had, I had no idea what she'd turn up in, hoping however that it was something better than baggy jeans and a sweat shirt.
She made an effort.
As I sat there in the pub waiting for her to turn up, I was pleasantly surprised to see her walk in wearing a quite nice pair of slacks, and a top that though it didn't show her off at all, at least wasn't baggy and shapeless. She'd also put on just a trace of make up, something else that I'd never seen her wear before. Quite expertly done as well, and I was later to discover that she'd worked during her college holidays for a make up company in the local department store.
Even more pleasing was quite how well we got on, and how many common interests we had.
OK ---- She didn't actually support the Arsenal football club, but she had at least heard of them. Even knew the names of several of the players.
After dinner and a few drinks and a walk, hand in hand round town, I found myself at last, pulling up in front of her apartment block around midnight.
"Lovely car," Jill commented as I pulled my Porsche 911 to a halt.
"Thanks," I replied, grinning at her. We'd already established that Jill was really into nice cars, just like me, so her comment was no great surprise.
What my problem was that my mind was in some conflict. Jill seemed like some pretty innocent young girl, but on the other hand Wendy had told me about her somewhat lurid, if short past.
What did I do?
Kiss her chastely and go off on my way, risking that she'd think I was some kind of twerp?
Or insist that I accompanied her back to her flat; try to get inside her knickers and risk losing her altogether.
As it happened, I didn't have to make that decision.
"You going to take me out again?" Jill demanded rather seriously. "Or am I too plain for you to be seen out with?"
"You Jill," I went straight back, almost laughing. "Too plain? ----- You're a doll Jill. You're lovely."
"Other guys don't seem to think so," she responded a little sadly. "If I don't go to bed with them on the first date, then I never seem to get a second one. When I did let them, then they quickly lost interest."
I went to go back with a flippant remark, but at the last moment held back --- bit my tongue as it were.
"Maybe there's another reason Jill," I ventured thoughtfully. "You really don't make the most of yourself, do you?"
"What do you mean?" She asked with a puzzled expression.
I sighed deeply, wondering how to put it without upsetting her.
"Do you have any nice dresses Jill? I've never seen you in one."
I haven't really got any dresses Greg," she replied. "I don't wear them."
"How about skirts?"
She shook her head, commenting that she simply didn't feel comfortable in them.
"High heels?" I queried, but that just drew a laugh of derision.
"Why not?" I queried, but had to repeat the question and push her into giving me an answer.
