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My height and bone structure hadn't changed, but mybuild had enough that I could fit into most of my wife's things (evenher bras).I started by changing my plain sports bras for one of her frilly ones. Ihadn't realized how limp my penis was until I was able to tuck it allthe way in and wear a pair of her panties. I looked in the mirror andsaw a slightly butch looking woman staring back, but definitely a woman.It scared and excited me at the same time. Definitely more excited thanscared since I started rubbing myself through the panties. It felt greatbut my penis didn't get totally hard. The best I got was a chubby. Mynipples were the opposite story. They were fully extended. I loved thelook of my tits in this bra. Like most males cleavage caught my eye, butI would take a quick glance and then look away before I was noticed.When it was my own, I could look all I wanted. It was still new to meand the ample mounds in their silk hold looked beautiful.I did this for longer than I thought. ”There were four main roads and they were all paved. The side streets were a mix of cobblestones and pavement. Most of the homes were two stories, with the second floor being smaller, utilizing space from the peaked roofs. On the outskirts, the homes were often built of stone, like Mrs. O’Barrows house. Closer to the town center, they were wooden and looked like they were built in the 50s or 60s.There was an open-air market near the bus-stop that I’d be visiting every morning to get to Cork. The town was surrounded by farms and orchards and the market seemed to pull in visitors traveling along the highway. A woman there with a large griddle promised me Ireland’s best colcannon and ispini if I stopped by on the weekend. I had no idea what she was talking about, so I just smiled and thanked her.The people all seemed friendly and I met Mr. O’Shaughnessy between the post office and the town hall.“Care for a wee bit of the good stuff, lad?” He tried to pass me a flask.“Ah, no. Thanks. A.
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