The Women in My Life Ch. 01byVitorio©
Firstly, many thanks for all your positive comments about Miranda, I only hope that I can live up to your expectations!
This is the second part of the trilogy started with 'Miranda'. It deals with the three pivotal women in Mike's life. It's quite long (again!) because that's how I write I'm afraid. Just to confuse matters even more I will break this middle part of the trilogy into three chapters, each about a different woman:
Part One – Angela
Part Two – Joyce
Part Three – Kate
Chapter One follows. Please enjoy. I should just say that the writer is in the future looking back.)
Chapter One - Angela:
I enjoyed writing about Miranda, how we met and how our relationship developed, and Miranda enjoyed helping me. I'm sure we didn't remember all the dialogue but what we didn't we made up. It seems in tune with how we remember feeling then. Now she's persuaded me that I should write down my experiences, how I got where I am today and why I am like I am. She reckons I should do this before I write about our first couple of years together. Well, she's the boss! I have warned her though, that there might be a few surprises.
The story begins over 45 years ago and I will start by mentioning the one thing that has shaped my sexual proclivities, my life really. Why has the female derriere held so much fascination for me? I began worshipping at the altar of the female bottom very soon after I realised that girls and women were more important than cricket!
Now I should explain – unusually I suppose, I wasn't much into girls in my early teens. As boys we didn't have much to do with them at school, I always went to boy's schools, and they weren't really interested in the things we were: mainly sport and getting up to mischief. When I left school at 16 I was pretty much totally committed to sport. I'd been introduced to cricket, a game which you either like or hate it seems; it became my life! In Camberwell, where I lived, we were just half a mile from the Kennington Oval, a very famous ground, where Surrey played their County cricket. I spent much time watching them but even more playing, I had since I turned 11. All summer I was playing or training and, in the winter, practised and kept fit by running, badminton, and table tennis.
I didn't get a job, I suppose I was a bit of a slob really relying on mum to feed and clothe me. I look back and realise I was pretty selfish. Any money I did earn, with the exception of a bit for mum's presents, from odd jobs, errands, and the like, was spent on my cricket gear or any other sporting kit I needed.
Don't get me wrong, I liked girls. Occasionally I'd go to a dance or a party and I got on reasonably well but it didn't ever go any further. Before going on perhaps I should describe myself in those days. I wasn't too bad looking and I'd gained my height early. I was just over 6 feet and slim, lithe some people called me. I'd spurted up rather quickly around 17 and didn't grow much taller, just filled out. Mum always said I was handsome and I should get out and meet some nice girls but sport was always more important.
All this changed around my 18th birthday. Just before then I fell in love – unrequited but love all the same. I suppose that that is what happens when you suddenly realise how wonderful girls are. She was the daughter of our team captain, only 16 but the most beautiful girl. She hardly noticed me of course, I was from a completely different social strata from her, her father being the owner of the large manufacturing company whose cricket team for which I played. I only did that because I was one of the best around and they needed a good all-rounder.
John, my best friend and the son of my mum's best friend (more of whom later), was three years older than me and he decided that, on my 18th birthday things should change. He was obviously much more experienced than me (just how much I found out later) and the weekend after my birthday he took me to Soho, that part of London that passed for a red light district, to show me around. He took me to a 'strip' show then to a book shop where you could get 'dodgy' books.
I should explain about 'sex' in those days. When I was in my teens society was much more restricted than today although it was the start of the, so called, 'swinging sixties'. Well, actually, they swung past me as they did many of my friends who grew up in the South East suburbs of London in those days. Access to things sexual was still fairly strictly controlled then. No 'top shelf' magazines, no page three, no adult channels on not much terrestrial television. There were a couple of magazines, Parade comes to mind and the early days of Playboy but both of these were hard to come by really, certainly for a young man who was just realising his sexuality. To get hold of really 'naughty' pictures in those days you needed to be 'in the know' as it were. Even in places like Soho you still had to pay the earth for anything remotely sexy.
The book shop had quite a good selection as I remember. Lots of 'naturist' ones. Titles like 'Nature' or 'Health and Efficiency' which had pictures of nudists (strangely enough mostly women!) usually with any sign of sex airbrushed out. Remember, those were the days just after the time when you could go and see nudes but they weren't allowed to move or show any pubic hair! However, it was a short book, a selection of black and white photographs, that really affected me. There were only about half a dozen pictures in this little book, all of the women were in underwear of various types. I think that John realised how much I liked this book because he dipped into his pocket and brought it for me as a birthday present.
It was really one, just one, picture that did it for me. It was of a mature woman, not particularly attractive as I remember, who was dressed in a bra, panties, suspenders, and black stockings. She was wearing four inch heels. Her feet were about 15 inches apart and she was facing away and bending slightly forward with her bottom thrust out, the fabric of her knickers stretched across the broad reach of her fabulous arse. To add to the provocative nature of the picture she was looking back over her shoulder with a sexy smile.
This picture really turned on my sexual drive! Having ignored things sexual for most of my teens, now JT was almost uncontrollable! I must have shed gallons of spunk over her and, for better or for worse, the female bottom has always been my main interest. Of course in those days my knowledge of sex was limited to what I had found out at school, not from sex education I hasten to add, we didn't have it then. I had no idea that you might have had sex in the back, in the arse if you like, with a woman. I did have a vague idea that that was what 'queers' did. That was our term for homosexuals in those days. Not very correct but those were the times. You found out about sex, and what it was all about, from your mates, and by trial and error. My dad had left before I was born so my mum brought me up and she hadn't found the courage (for reasons I found out later) to tell me all about it so I had to find out for myself.
I don't know whether I was born with a fixation on the female bottom but I'm sure that this little book and the one picture had such an effect on me that it pointed me in that direction. My imagination would run riot as I masturbated over that picture, focussing on that delightful result of mother nature's natural selection. Was that why has anal sex been my fascination for almost as long as I can remember? The sight of a woman in suspenders and stockings, particularly with her back towards me, is enough to send me over the top, well it used to be but I'm much more controlled now! It's a long story, and an exciting one: well at least it was for me.
Once I realised how wonderful girls were I started to date, not very successfully I might add, because I as so inexperienced. I did manage to get a couple of girls to touch my cock through my pants but as that almost always resulted in orgasm we didn't get much further. The same happened when I managed to sample the extreme pleasures of the female breast so essentially I was inexperienced sexually. As for getting any further – no I hadn't. I knew what you had to do, stick it in her twat, that's an English slang for pussy – the word I'll use from now on. I didn't realise but, three months after my eighteenth birthday, all that was about to change.
The series of events that really fixed the female bottom in my mind and started my sexual education began one Saturday afternoon about three months after my birthday. I was upstairs in my bedroom. I was lucky, incidentally, that I had a bedroom of my own. Not many kids around had their own bedroom in those days. I was an only child and we had a tiny, 2 bed-roomed terraced house so I was fortunate. It was the lunch break during a Test Match (Cricket), I can't remember who we were playing, but I was taking my own lunch break, pulling my plonker while I fantasized over my lady in suspenders. I should say that I think I was at my peak then. I actually managed to have 7 orgasms in one day, I remember it well – Wimbledon on TV! All those nubile young women running about in short skirts!
I digress! I was wanking away when the doorbell rang. Mum was out so, quickly putting my equipment away and with some difficulty I might add, I shot downstairs to open the door. Now, what I didn't realise in my haste was that I had left my book open on my bed and, to make things worse – well not really as it turned out but you know what I mean, I'd left the bedroom door open. This meant that anyone passing my room could, if they just looked in, see the open book on the bed. Obviously I was rather flustered, I had been close to cumming so, to anyone who knew, it would probably have been obvious what I dad been up to.
I opened the front door and saw it was Mrs Green. She was my mum's best friend and my best mate's mum as well. She and mum had known each other for years and spent even more time together since Mrs Green's husband had died some seven years ago. They had a lot in common, both being lone mothers.
"Hello Mike," she said with a smile, "you were a long time!"
"Oh, oh, yea. I was in the loo." Well, I couldn't tell her I was pulling my plonker could I?
"Mmm?" she said with a knowing smile. "Is your mum in?"
"Err, no. She's just popped down to the shops. She'll be back in a minute." I thought I might get on her good side so, "Can I make you a cup of tea while you wait?"
"Yes, thanks Mike. I'll just pop to the loo." Well the loo was upstairs and, to get there, she had to go past my room. Now at that time I didn't realise how I'd left the book nor that my bedroom door was open so I just happily went into the kitchen to make the tea. About five minutes later Mrs Green came back down into the kitchen and stood next to me.
"Well young Michael," she said and I knew I was in trouble because she'd used my full name, "well young man." It's funny isn't it, the only time my mum and her friends used my full name was when I was in trouble? Does that happen to all of us?
"Yes Mrs Green?" said I innocently, unaware of the mangle through which I was about to be put, but apprehensive none the less.
"Is this yours?" she asked holding up my book.
Gulp, oh shit I thought, am I in trouble now! "Err, errrrmmm,"
"Come on Michael, is it yours or not?"
"Well, errm. No." Bloody stupid I know but hell, I was in trouble!
"Well," she said with a smile, "it was on your bed." Had I realised of course, I would have noticed that she wasn't angry, far from it, she thought it amusing but in my innocence I didn't see that. All I was concerned with was trying to figure out how to get out of this and, just as important, how I was going to keep my bloody book!
"Well, yes Mrs Green, it is, umm, mine."
"Mmm," she said smiling even more, "I thought it might be."
Time now to beg for mercy. "Please Mrs Green, don't tell mum, please. I'll get in terrible trouble. You won't tell her will you?"
"Oh, I don't know Michael," she said pondering the problem. Of course she had every intention of telling my mum but I didn't know that then did I?
"Please Mrs Green. I'll do anything!" Well I would. Mind you, I didn't quite realise what she had in mind!
"I think you are a very naughty young man," she said with another smile, "but, if you would like to do a few things around the house for me, I think I might keep this as just our little secret." Relief flooded my body. Mum wouldn't find out. That was the first hurdle overcome. Now to try and get the book back. Foolish boy!
"Can I have it back please, Mrs Green?"
"What Michael?" she asked with a soft smile knowing, I'm sure, full well what I meant.
"Errrm, my book."
"Oh, I don't think so," she said with a big smile, "I'm not sure you'll be needing it too much now." This puzzled me. I know, I was stupid and I was naïve, but well, I didn't associate Mrs Green with the woman in the book.
"Oh," I said pleading, "please." I couldn't stand to lose that book. What would I use to wank over? Little did I know!
"No," she said firmly, "no Michael. I think I'll keep this." Then she fixed me with a steady look, "Perhaps you'll calm down. Now, where's this tea?"
I realised that I had no chance of getting the book back just then. Perhaps, I thought, if I'm good around the house and do lots of jobs she might weaken and let me have it back. She took her tea and sat in the front room waiting for mum. All the while she had a secret smile on her face and kept looking at me in a funny way. Finally, when mum came in, I left them alone and went to my room.
I sat up there thinking about Mrs Green. She was several years older than mum, about 45. As I wrote, her husband had died about 7 years before, in an accident at work. He'd left her not too badly off, though she did work part-time in Woolworth's. Her son, John, was almost three years older than me and now he was off at university. Like me, he had won a scholarship to a grammar school and then to Oxford. Something I hoped to do but never did. He was intelligent , was John, much cleverer than me. We were both only children who had lost our fathers and our mothers were good friends so we naturally also became good pals.
Now Mrs Green lived on her own. Her house was similar to ours, like many in that area built just before the war. She was quite tall, about 5' 9" and well built without being fat. Blonde, bottle I think, she had a nice friendly face and a lovely smile. I liked her, she was always nice to me, and I often stayed at her house with John before he left.
I know it's difficult to imagine but I hadn't really thought of her sexually. You know, she was mum's friend and I wouldn't, nay couldn't, think of her like that. You didn't in those days.
Now, looking back I can remember her with fondness. I suppose you would call her buxom. Large, but not too large, breasts and a flat, but not too flat, tummy. Now, of course, I know that her arse was heaven! Big, broad, and shapely with not to much fat, it was a delight – as I was to find out! I remember it with great fondness.
Anyway, back to my bedroom where I lay on the bed wondering how I could possibly get my book back. Mrs Green obviously hadn't said anything to mother, I hadn't be called down. Little did I know! In the end I just went back to listening to the test match and tried to forget about my book for a few minutes.
After a while mum called up. "Mike, Angela is going now. She said you were going to do a few things for her around the house?"
"Yes mum," I said as I came down stairs, "Mrs Green asked me if I would help," I said looking at her.
"Mmm," said mum with a smile, "what's got into you. It's all I can do to get you to tidy up your room."
"I persuaded him Joyce," said Mrs Green, with a wink at me, "he said he would help."
Mum laughed, "OK, when do you want him?" Of course, had I been more aware of the ways of the world, I would have heard the double entendre shaped in that question.
"Oh, give me half an hour Joyce, then he can come round."
I was being manipulated of course, but I didn't realise. I just stood there looking back and forth between my mum and Mrs Green.
"All right Mike?" said mum.
"Oh yea, yea fine. I'll come round in about half an hour."
"Mmm," said Mrs Green, "that's nice. Bye Joyce, I'll see you tomorrow." They quite often spent Sunday afternoons together chatting over tea and cakes or sometimes a bottle of wine. Then she left with a smile for me.
"Well," said mum with a smile, "you certainly got in Mrs Green's good books Mike. What came over you?"
Now I had to find an answer quickly. "Oh mum, I just thought that, as John's gone to college, she might need someone to do things, you know."
Now mum looked rather sad, "Yes," she said, "it's a shame he's gone away. Still," she added with a smile, "he'll be back in the holidays." Funny, I thought, mum's looking forward to John coming home – bloody naïve fool!! "It's nice though Mike. It's a nice thought. Now you look after Angela and do what she asks." That was strange as well? Of course I'd help Mrs Green around the house. I bloody do anything to get my book back! But, of course, mum would know that and I didn't know that mum knew! Unbeknown to me mum knew far more than I did!
"OK mum, no problem. I'm going to listen to the match for a while then I'll go round." So off I went upstairs and laid on the bed listening to the cricket – no masturbation. What was I going to do without my book? Soon the tea break arrived and I set off for Mrs Green's with a cheery, "Bye," to mum.
"Tea's about 6," she said, "don't be late."
"No, I won't mum, bye."
I strolled round the corner and knocked on Mrs Green's door. "Come in Mike," she shouted from the front room, "I'm in here. Put the latch up when you come in." That locked the front door.
When I entered the front room I noticed that she had changed her clothing. I don't think I'd ever seen her dressed in anything like this before. It didn't really register with me that it was any different, only that I hadn't seen this dress before. Although it was only early spring she was dressed in a light summer dress that flared at the waist and really showed off her hips. It finished around mid calf and I noticed that she wore high heeled shoes: something else I'd rarely seen her do, at least not as high as these.
The dress wasn't cut very low but it did, somehow, accentuate her boobs which, I must admit, I did notice. It's strange isn't it, the way that the old JT, your cock, your prick, really notices things like this before you do. I was worried about what she was going to ask me to do. I wasn't that good at DIY so I was a bit apprehensive. JT however, was concentrating on much more important matters, i.e. Mrs Green's boobs!
She sat down on the settee as I came in and picked up my little book. I felt a bit like a naughty schoolboy, hell, I suppose I was really, as I stood there in front of her.
"Now young man," she said. I noticed she called me 'young man' rather than 'my boy', a phrase she'd used before. Had I known, of course, I would have realised that, in her eyes, I was becoming a man. "Now young man, let's get to the bottom of this!" Gulp, oh shit. Now I thought I was in big trouble. "This is yours is it?" She opened the book.
"Yes, Mrs Green, it is," I decided that honesty was the best policy, well, at least as far as it went!
"Why was it up there on the bed?"
"Errrmm, err, well, errrm."
"Come on now," she said with a soft smile that, had I recognised it, would have banished all my fears, "you can tell me. I promised you didn't I," she added. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. I'd go some of the way.