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I wrote this shortly after it happened. Ten years ago now.When I was a younger man, like most guys I was obsessed with sex, used to walk around with a constant hard-on. If I look at old photos of myself, I could cry thinking about all the gorgeous girls I lusted after but couldn’t be arsed spinning a line to. You see, there’d always be tomorrow or the day after. You know, that day when some gorgeous young thing would offer it to me on a plate.They never did, though.At least not back then, that is.I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d had girlfriends, and then a wife, and a second wife. But now I realise that if I’d put my mind to it I could have fucked more pussy than is decent.By my early fifties I’d stopped even trying to catch the eye of pretty girls — or halfway decent older women for that matter. I can’t remember the actual year women stopped looking back when I gave them the eye but stopped they had.Then one day, when I was fifty-one, I had the shock of my life. I looked at a young girl, and she held my gaze, didn’t blank me like women usually did. The reality of her sparkling curious eyes sent an electric jolt through my body. It was cognitive dissonance, and it shook the foundations of the person I had come to believe I was.I’d been staring at this girl, not trying to catch her eye or anything, just staring. I wasn’t trying to flirt with her. As I said, I’d given up on that front years before. No, I was staring because of the clothes she wore. She was all done up the beşevler escort way girls used to be when I was a young man back in the early seventies. It unnerved me to see a gorgeous young thing from right now looking like a gorgeous young thing from back then.I think any given female fashion that is in vogue when a male is experiencing his first sexual stirrings stays lodged in the back of his mind for the rest of his life and becomes a template for how a woman should look. It is an image that etches itself on his brain in the same way some animals get imprinted on the first thing they see after hatching or being born. With animals, it’s not always their mothers either; an old bucket, or even human being, is sometimes what those darling goslings get.For me, at the moment of my sexual awakening, it was girls in mini-skirts and knee-length boots, tan, ten denier pantyhose, leather biker jackets, and earrings as big as those they put through the nose of a bull. In the small north of England town where I grew up, it was the look most girls in my neighbourhood affected.This girl was wearing all that stuff. I doubt when she dressed that morning she intended to freak out an old guy like me — or even to turn on a younger one for that matter. I’m sure her idea was to appear retro, as they call it now. How was she to know the disturbing effect that particular look would have on a man who’d first found his way to pussy by cebeci escort way of nylon encased inner thighs?  I suppose she was making a statement, being ironic. When I first saw those legs alighting from her car I was sure the universe was fucking with me. I was at the big car boot sale that’s held every Sunday at Johnson’s Farm — I think you call such gatherings swap-meets in the USA. I was hoping to get rid of the remaining stuff my second wife had left behind when she ditched me for that twat, Carl Miles. I could no longer do with it in the house, always coming across something of hers. I’d given her an ultimatum to shift which she had ignored.So there I was in the middle of a field at six a.m. on a Sunday morning. What an ungodly hour for a night-bird such as me. It was like a visit to another planet. I’d had to get up at five in the morning to get there on time to be sure of a pitch.I discreetly watched the girl with the legs setting up her stuff, laying out her stall so carefully. When she saw me staring she smiled, not just with her mouth — you know tight lips and dead eyes. No, she smiled with eyes ablaze with youth, and the certainty life would be good to her. Yes, those eyes of hers! Eyes to break an old guy’s heart.A look bestowed from a girl like her would in itself have been enough to set me up for the rest of the day. But I didn’t dare speak to her, flirt or say, ‘hi’. I wouldn’t have been able to kolej escort take the sneer that was sure to follow. To be despised after the gift of her smile would have hurt too much. All the same, I couldn’t help look over at her whenever I got the chance. I even thought about taking a snap with my phone but decided that would be too sad. Best not be reminded of what is out of bounds.The sky had been cloudless when I left the house, the air clean and sharp in the cool of the morning, but by the ten-o clock, the wind picked up, bringing dark clouds tumbling across the sky and the promise of rain. I watched the girl staring up with a worried look on her pretty, young face.Plucking up courage, I called to her, “Just a shower. It’ll blow over.”She turned and smiled. “My stuff will get ruined.”I walked towards her, scanned her table. “I have plastic sheeting. You can have some to cover your stuff.”I had loads in my van. I fetched a long sheet and spread it over both our tables. While I did, she examined one the old records she’d fished out from under my stall. Tank, I think it was, an old T. Rex album. I’d found this particular box in the attic, and unlike the other stuff, it contained a few things that had belonged to my first wife, Carole. I’d forgotten they were there. Carole had left me in nineteen-seventy-seven.”Cool,”  the girl said.”You like T. Rex?””Love them.””What about the early stuff — when the were Tyrannosaurus Rex; just Marc Bolan and Steve Peregrine Took.””Wasn’t he a hobbit?”We both laughed. Then the heavens opened.We frantically tried to cover our stuff. I called to her, “Listen! If you like, you can shelter inside my car, and I’ll play you something, A Beard Of Stars. It’s the best thing they ever recorded. There’s an old tape in that box.” She rummaged deeper. “Yes that’s it,” I said.

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