It was because of Angela that my predilection for mature women was formed. Perhaps it was also due in part to the significance of the date, 18th of February 1982, my eighteenth birthday. After all losing your virginity to a woman twenty three years your senior is bound to have a profound and ever lasting affect.
I was living in a fairly remote coastal town in Western Australia at that time; a builder's labourer having just left high school with not much of an idea of what I wanted to do with the future. It was a time of no responsibilities and of not having much of a care in the world.
I was a shy boy by nature and that fact, combined with the teenage difficulty of being new to town only 18 months earlier meant that I had only had one girlfriend in that time and I was still a virgin to boot. It wasn't that I didn't want to explore the tight, lithe body of my girlfriend; I was just not pushy enough to put the proposition to her.
Angela was to initiate me into the heady world of sex in an inspiring fashion.
I was aware of the gorgeous Angela for months before our fateful encounter. She was my friend's mother and I had entertained myself on numerous nocturnal occasions where she played the starring role in masturbatory fantasies. In fact Angela was a walking, talking, living wet dream.
I knew I wasn't alone in my worship of Angela's generous curves, pretty face and blonde hair. I had had several discussions regarding Angela's assets with friends from school and we were all of the same opinion; Pete's mum was hot stuff.
To describe Angela in detail: She was forty one years old when I reached my eighteenth birthday. Fairly tall, at least five foot ten to my six feet. Willowy limbed with well shaped, slim legs. Legs that she showed off to honey tanned perfection all the time in short skirts or tight shorts. She got away with such show off behaviour because of the high temperatures along the West Australian coastline. She had a very pretty face that was framed by ash blonde hair. Her teeth were white with the front two being slightly crooked teeth gave her a rather endearing smile and actually emphasised her prettiness rather than detract from it. She had a flat tummy and absolutely the best, most shapely tits in town (there had been a schoolboy vote on that particular subject). In fact Angela's breasts were the topic of many conversations between just about 100% of the male population of the town. It wasn't the size of her globes that prompted so much conjecture, although they were a decent sized pair, but rather their overall shape and apparent ability to defy gravity. They were full and rounded, well sized and shapely ultimately tipped by long, seemingly permanently erect nipples.
There wasn't a man, or boy, in town who wouldn't have taken the opportunity, with no second thoughts of the consequences whatsoever, to play with Angela if he was lucky enough to ever get the chance.
Such luck is on the scale of a large lottery win. On my eighteenth birthday, my numbers all came up.
On the morning of that day I had absolutely no idea of the events that were about to unfold. If I had I would probably never have left the house! Angela in fantasy form was perfection; the reality of her was intimidating to an overwhelming degree.
I passed the day fairly normally, I went to work and moved timber around for the chippies and generally tidied up the sites that were slowly being transformed into houses for the rapidly increasing population of the town. Old George, the owner of the company that employed me stopped by to wish me a happy birthday and slipped me a $50 note on his way off the site. The day was going good.
After work I went home, showered and made my way over to Pete's house at 7:30 as we'd arranged. As it happened Pete had had to go down to Perth with his Father because of some family crisis or other. This was the defining moment in the ‘Mrs Robinson' experience that awaited me.
Angela opened the front door and the sight of her was truly amazing. She had been out in the back yard when I'd knocked and she had obviously been sunbathing because she was dressed in her bikini. Now the sight of Pete's mum in her bikini in addition to the $50 from Old George was a superb birthday treat in itself and I would have been entirely satisfied if that had been the sum total of my birthday pleasures. Things were to get so much better though.
Angela explained the details of Pete's absence whilst I stood and gawped at her splendid cleavage. Then she dropped a minor bombshell.
She invited me in for a celebratory birthday drink. Before I really knew what I was doing I'd followed Angela into the kitchen, taken a bottle of ice cold Emu and then been led out onto the patio at the back of the house. My hostess had poured herself a glass of chilled white wine and she sipped at it as she lounged back in her sun chair.
It must have been obvious to the mature woman that her semi nude form spread deliciously over the sun chair was causing me some degree of discomfort. Firstly I couldn't bring myself to look directly at her. It felt as though her breasts were like magnets drawing my eyeballs inexorably towards them like the north arrow on a compass.
I think she took some sort of perverse pleasure in my discomfort because she was in no way ignorant of the effect her body was having on me and she did absolutely nothing to lessen my embarrassment.
