There were a few things that John Lincoln was devoted to. They were things that he spent his time on, both mental time and actual, daily time. They were the things that he cultivated, that appealed to him. There was, of course, his pal Rufus, the 'world's greatest dog', to hear John talk about him. Rufus was mostly a lab, probably with other back alley breeds mixed in somewhere. He was perpetually up-beat and a kind of 'happy go lucky' companion. He was always totally pleased to see John, when he came home. Rufus also made himself at home, taking up almost half of the big king sized bed that they shared.
Next there was the stately old Victorian where John and Rufus lived. John was in the slow but sure process of rehabbing the Victorian. He was, as well as being a professional, really handy around the house. He had been taught at an early age by both his two uncles and his dad, all gone now, to be self-sufficient. They had all been in the building trades and taught 'Johnnie' all there was to know about them. As a result, there were no jobs, from dry-walling to door and window framing that 'Johnnie' wasn't up to doing himself. He was in that process with the Victorian, which had indeed been a gift to him from the family. They'd given it to him with the express idea that he'd work on it to make it his own. In the meantime, years of working with the law firm, where he'd become, over the years, a partner, had kept him from the house. But finally, at the age of 40, John was determined to get on with his desire to work on the house.
He'd also become, at that time, a judge in one of the municipal courts. He was highly regarded enough, that he gone to a higher court in time and was generally well thought of in the local legal community, as well as the community at large.
Over the years, there had been tasks, his attention to his legal work, taking care of various family members, as they went into their several declines. 'Johnnie' had never, ever complained about those demands on his time and energy. Doing those kinds of chores was always a priority with him. It was, for him, a matter of giving back the blessings that he'd received at their hands.
There had always been women, dates, acquaintances but they never seemed to get the amount of attention from John that such things would routinely need to make them important. He'd had his share of affairs but, from his way of thinking, he'd never found what he called 'a keeper'. He talked to Rufus about that periodically but was usually fairly sanguine about it, telling Rufus: "I know, pal, that the time is coming for me; I just know it." In addition, John was just shy enough to make women, for him, a chore.
It was an outlook that served to give him at least some peace with the issue.
In addition to Rufus and rehabbing, John was, from early on interested in birds. His uncle Hal had been a bird watcher and had taken 'Johnnie' on many trips to various places to inspect the local bird population. John kept a semi-active interest in it on his own. He was certainly serious about his bird feeders, and bird houses. It was an interest that was always there, and it was ever a source of pleasure for him to know exactly what kinds of birds he saw around at any given time and place.
But, of course, that wasn't all. There was that part of John that was simply an old fashioned male pleasure. This was an issue that was for himself. He was a devoted observer of female fannies! It was usually a cause for self-smiling with him. But he loved looking at women's butts.
There had been times that his 'callipygous' interests were better compensations than others.
He recalled, and often enough thought about and smiled about the time, when he went to Vienna to school for a semester or so. He was young then and what he found in Vienna seared him to his very bones.
He recalled vividly the first time he encountered this latest Viennese fashion. It was the wearing, by ladies of all ages, and really, shapes and sizes, of fairly transparent dresses. This fashion, at the time, was enhanced by the fact that beneath the dresses, made of a kind of crinkly material but still fully transparent, the women wore no slips at all but only underwear.
There, for 'Johnnie's pleasure', were all sorts of women on display, showing the world, but especially him, their panties and panty covered butts.
John always remembered this with a smile and a short laugh. He remembered that it affected him sufficiently that, he said: "I just had to sit down!"
During that time, in Vienna, John spent a lot of time just sitting, and sipping coffee and watching. Watching the wiggling fannies of the women in Vienna. It was one of his fondest memories.
(It also gave the lie, of course, to the idea that John Lincoln was nothing but a stogy older barrister!)
He came home from the trip with fond memories and not a few slyly taken photos to remind him of the times and the mode of dress in the Vienna of those days.
His return home from that Vienna scene made his adventures in watching women's 'booties' even more active. There were recurrent interests in miniskirts, that came and went with fashion, that pleased him no end.
So that, for a good long time, John was as enchanted by women's fashions at home as he had been in Vienna.
He loved viewing at times long legs coming out from beneath the brightly colored, short skirts. It was a constant source of visual pleasure for him.
It produced a veritable mental poster board of sights that were remembered and filed mentally, as he continued to be a 'watcher': women bending over and showing their panty covered butt cheeks; women sitting and showing panty gussets with, now and then, a sprinkling of sightings of some darker hair, against the lighter fabric of the panties.
These were John's fond, fond memories. It was with a sigh for great memories that John watched the fashions change, with ever new recurrences of the shorter skirt craze.
He realized that there were always pleasures abounding for a 'bottom' man, as he designated himself.
Oh, it was true that he really liked to see a totally well-formed woman, with pleasing breasts and a nice butt. But, for himself, he was always aware of the fact that he looked at the butts first.
He also developed the theory, only ever whispered to himself, to prevent all sorts of trouble: 'that you should never completely trust a woman with a skinny ass'. He never, ever thought of it without a satisfying chuckle. But he always tempered that remark with the further remark 'that he never saw a woman's butt that he didn't like.'
He added to his list of pleasures and things to which he was devoted his love of running. It was also, for him, a kind of a result of the various 'wake up' calls that he'd had based on the cardiac problems that were shared by his uncles and his dad.
He began his 'running career', while at the university. He ran cross country and was a 'miler' with the track team, lettering in both is junior and senior years. He kept up his devotion to long distance running, after he got his law degree and established himself with a law firm, selecting for himself, as a main concentration, criminal law, which eventually led him to his present position on the court.
He still made sure that he got out on a regular schedule to do his running.
John was certainly of an equitable temper in his noticing the way that fashions changed. He never expected the full blown mini skirt craze to reappear, as it had been back a while ago.
'Being around then, ' he thought, 'would have been a treat!' He was fine with that. He had some grand memories with it.
Nor did he ever suspect for a moment that the Viennese craze for women to wear transparent dresses would assert itself among women in the U.S. He was fine with that too.
But he was hardly ready for the new fashion craze that came along, just as he'd reached the bench. He noticed it right away on the trails, where he did his running. Women were beginning to wear black, stretch pants. They were absolutely butt clinging fashions, and they brought out, in a very happy and visual way, the old 'Johnnie' of his Vienna days.
It just seemed that everywhere he went, the running trail, the grocery store or just shopping, he was invited to view the wiggling posteriors of various women, women of all ages and sizes, as they were contained in those absolutely tight, absolutely wonderful, absolutely gorgeous tight, black, stretch pants.
He chuckled to himself these days that women were wearing as outer clothing what in his day would have only been underwear.
John Lincoln was certainly having visual fun with it all. It made even simply tasks, like going to the grocery store, a fabulous treat. And on the running paths, the sights were downright breathtaking.
So, John Lincoln made his way. He'd set his professional goals and lived up to them. He loved being a judge and was a good one, with a very good reputation. He kept rehabbing his Victorian, spent time with Rufus and kept his visual delights strictly to himself. He was, in a manner of speaking, a totally normal 40 year old man.
TO THE RESCUE:
He was at the trail for his run fairly early on a May Saturday. He did his stretches and his prelims and started his run. He'd be out today for about 5 to 10 miles, depending on his frame of mind.
But John Lincoln was about to have an encounter, a life changing kind of encounter that he wasn't, of course, counting on.
He rounded a bend, after running about a mile and three quarters and was faced with a scene that both slowed him down and delighted him.
.... There is more of this story ...