Paddy gets a wake up visit. Part 1. - Sex Stories

Paddy gets a wake up visit. Part 1.

... At half past two on the Thursday, she still hadn't arrived and, somewhat crestfallen, I had begun to unravel the knot in my tie when there was a soft knock at the door and I had to quickly redo it as I hurried across the apartment to answer. Tina was standing in the hallway when I opened the door and smiled broadly at me as she looked me up and down and raised her eyebrows in approval of my attire. While I had gone to considerable lengths to be presentable to her, she, on the other hand, appeared to have 'dressed down' for this visit and was wearing denim jeans with calf high, black leather boots while sporting a casual jacket over another open necked blouse. We both smiled at each other in tacit amusement at this unexpected reversal in dress code. With an apology for being a bit late, Tina stepped into the apartment as I held the door open for her and then asked me how I was as she made her way towards the same armchair that she had sat in on her previous visit. "I've been very well, thank you Tina, and you?" I answered and followed up without waiting for an answer by asking her if she would like something to drink. Tea? Coffee? Or maybe a soft drink? I had, at some point during the week while reminiscing about her first visit, been hit with the sudden realization that I hadn't offered her any refreshment at the time and was probably a bit overzealous in attempting not to repeat such an unsociable misdemeanour second time round. She answered that she would like a cup of ...

... coffee with milk but no sugar and I headed towards the kitchenette as she removed her jacket and sat down in the armchair. As you would expect in a studio apartment, the kitchenette was visible from the seating area and we could clearly see each other while I got the coffees ready. Once I had prepared and served the beverages, I sat in the armchair adjacent to hers and we commenced another period of the most pleasant small talk I have ever engaged in. We spoke of her studies in Johannesburg and hopes of finding employment there when she finished. She told me she had been to Croke Park to watch a Gaelic football match but just couldn't get to grips with the rules of the game, something that I empathized with her about having abhorred it since childhood. On the other hand, she enjoyed soccer, was a Manchester United fan and harboured ambitions of one day going to see a home game at Old Trafford. I had been a 'red devils' supporter all my life and had always wanted to attend a match at the hallowed 'Theatre of Dreams' but despite living all my adult life in England, only a few hundred miles from the venue, I never did. My Martha had no time for the sport and considered it a disgraceful waste of money that could have been put to better use doing the Lord's work through the church. I had been loathe to antagonize my dear wife by openly declaring my love of the game or divulging my perfidious desire to visit such an incongruous establishment as Old Trafford. However, I did manage to ...