I don't particularly remember the first time I saw my wife - though I certainly remember the first time I saw her mother. Oh, I won't forget that day in a hurry I can tell you. I still cringe at the memory.
Trudy, my girlfriend at the time was someone I knew from way back when we were kids, someone who hung around with the same group of people that I hung around with. In a small town you carry on seeing the same people after leaving school, you go to the same bars, the same shops, the same movies. That's just the way those rural places are.
She was a good looking girl -- and still is for that matter. Curly blonde hair, cute smile, laughing blue eyes. Also lest I forget, firm boobs and an ass that deserved to be stared at. She had run 400m at County level, so had well-developed muscles right where they counted. And boy, did they count. Her pants swivelled as she walked, tight jeans showing every ripple of the contents.
I can remember eventually plucking up the courage to ask her out and her expression of quizzical astonishment at my temerity, my desire to change the nature of our relationship from acquaintance to lover. She agreed, of course. Otherwise, this whole saga would never have been, my life would have been different and likely I would have had a life of quiet suburban domesticity - dog, office job, couple of kids and an early death through boredom. Who knows?
So I started dating Trudy and gradually as we spent more time in each other's company we moved away from that group of friends. We made our entertainment, going to places and events that interested us as a couple, you know, just growing up together. There followed some kissing sessions at the end of an evening and eventually a furtive stroke and a fumble at each other's bodies. All very traditional and even respectable.
Then one day Trudy mentioned that her mother was out of town and her house would be vacant for us to visit. With her father being away on business as well, we could hang out in the comfort and warmth of her front room. So we did just that.
The said front room sufficed for a few minutes but she soon offered me the Grand Tour which ended up as we both knew it would, in her bedroom. As I remember, that room was brightly decorated and strewn with clothes, in the way of ladies who are still young enough to live with their parents but are now too old to be disciplined for making a mess in their private place. The bed was covered with a crumpled floral quilt and the ripped remains of several old and faded posters of half-dressed boy pop stars were taped on the walls.
As she showed me the view from her window, she also casually showed me the view down her blouse. With two buttons on her top unfastened, a white lacy bra containing a pair of beautiful creamy tits was revealed. She stood still just a little too long, leaning over just a little too far. Then I was nonchalantly pushed back onto the bed which was soft, comfortable and permeated with her scent - a heady mixture of perfume and sleepy female.
She hoisted her short skirt around her waist to unveil panties with a printed motif of tiny scarlet poppies. After tugging down my jeans and taking my rigid cock in her warm hand, she pulled those red-flowered panties to one side and took my virginity. There was precious little formality or foreplay, she knew what she wanted and made sure that she had it. I'm not sure how much of that foreplay I expected on such an auspicious occasion but there was precious little of the commodity that day.
There was a long hesitation while she made sure that the aim was correct and she exhaled loudly as she sank. Millimetre by millimetre she descended, then once she had accepted my entire girth into the entrance to her body she moved down suddenly about half an inch. She emitted a squeak and gasped, causing me to avert my gaze from her widening pussy to her face. Her eyes were closed and she was biting on her lower lip.
She continued pushing down, her tightness stretching my skin back firmly. Eventually, the invasion was completed and she started to rock, raising herself marginally on each stroke as if riding a very placid pony.
The heat of her body as she impaled herself was not included in my expectations of this event and I also didn't anticipate the feeling of the elastic edge of her panties rubbing against me. The encounter did not take very long. I had the sensation of impending orgasm, then in a rush, it was all over.
I collapsed, a panting mess with a foolish grin on my face.
She climbed away, removed her stained and soggy knickers and went to the bathroom. On her return she had the scent of soap. She undressed completely and made me do the same, so naked we talked together. Her heavy breasts with pale pink nipples contrasted with the lurid pink lampshade on the ceiling and she sat on my thighs as I admired her flawless body. I was in awe of the fact that she was such a beautiful creature and had chosen to have sex with me.
As we chatted the time passed and the scent of soap faded in the afternoon as I basked in post-coital bliss. Then we heard the sound of someone climbing the stairs and before we could react, a lady with a stern expression stood in the open doorway. "Trudy, the door was unlocked, I thought we'd been burgled."
Trudy grabbed the quilt to her chest, printed yellow flowers replacing the rosy areolae. "No Mum, it's only me, everything's alright."
The woman turned to me, "What, pray, are you doing here?"
I was unable to move, crippled with pins and needles and trapped by the weight of Trudy's firm and freshly fucked body on my bloodless legs. "Nothing, I mean nothing, we were just talking." My useless stammering did not convince anyone.
"Do you mean you're in Trudy's bed in the middle of the day, both of you naked together and you're just talking?"
I nodded furiously. "Yes, we weren't doing anything."
Her eyebrows lowered and she paused before speaking again. "What are you, some kind of weirdo?" With that, she left and shut the door behind her.
I had met Trudy's mother. A day that is indelibly marked in my memory.
* * *
After a stunned silence Trudy twisted away and reached for her clothes. Her skirt and top were quickly dragged on, bra and sticky panties left abandoned on the floor.
I pulled on my jeans, stuffing my underpants into a pocket. As soon as we were half-way decent Trudy ushered me downstairs.
Her mother was waiting at the open front door as I stumbled down from the bedroom, still trying to regain some feeling in my legs. She wished me farewell with a fake smile and exaggerated politeness. I could have died on the spot with the shame.
* * *
When I next saw Trudy a few days later she was a trifle subdued. It turned out that her mother had hauled her down to the doctors for advice on birth control and she had had to admit that she already had that covered.
Now having been both embarrassed and humiliated, she wasn't in the best of moods. She had started to take precautions shortly after we had first begun to date; I have to say I knew little of such things and in those days my chosen method of birth control would have been the 'hope' system. Hope to get laid, hope to escape any consequences. Of course that hadn't happened at all, like any horny dog on an offer I'd honoured the offer. (And on her and off her).
Trudy got over the experience soon enough though and we made hay together several times over the next few weeks - but choosing more isolated locations avoiding any chance of her relatives disturbing us. We took walks in the forestry that surrounded the area, following the paths and streams, seeking out secluded little glens. We found a little waterfall where we could listen to the splashing and the birdsong whilst we kissed.
In the dappled shade and long fresh grass, we would remove each other's clothes and make love. Afterwards we sometimes took a skinny dip and then sit under cascading fresh water until chilled to the core. Even now the whiff of wild garlic and leaf-mould brings memories of those trysts.
In hindsight, those assignations were youthful fumbles that were hurried and finished too soon, but at the time they were exciting and a rite of passage to adulthood.
I met her mother again several times during that period. The first time I did so the atmosphere was a little strained, the conversation more than a little stilted but after a while, we regained some sort of normality. Even now I go into a cold sweat thinking about those early encounters, but she was pleasant enough and probably didn't make life too unbearable. It could have been a lot worse.
She looked just like a slightly older version of her daughter. Her boobs and backside were both a little lower and softer but they could easily have been mistaken for sisters. In her usual attire of tight jeans and a T-shirt, she had a good figure with a flat stomach and long legs. She clearly took good care of herself, when you look at your girlfriend's mother to try to imagine what your prospective wife might look like in twenty years, that's what you want to see.
Then one day Trudy wanted me to accompany her to a family wedding. This was nerve-wracking; I'd be officially introduced to the rest of her family, including her dad. I considered crying off and pretending that I had work commitments but Trudy protested at the suggestion and pointed out that everyone else would be with a partner. If she was single it would make her look like an outcast -- or worse, someone's kid.
So that weekend I put on my best (and only) suit and went around to her house before we proceeded together to the venue. When I arrived, Trudy greeted me and said that her mum was just finishing getting changed so we waited sitting on the sofa making painful small-talk. The TV was on silent, the sunlight streamed through the window behind us and Trudy was looking outstanding in a deep green silk dress held up with lacy elastic trim above the boobs. She was bare-shouldered, looking very fashionable.
I noticed her checking that the top was properly in position two or three times and eventually I spoke up. "If you don't feel secure in that dress, find something else. But stop hitching it up, you just draw attention to yourself." Trudy had bought it especially though, so she wanted to stay with it. Apparently, she had nothing else to wear.
Footsteps coming downstairs announced the entrance of her mother. Her hair was fixed up, her make-up was perfect and I probably wouldn't have recognised her. Especially as she was carrying her dress over her arm and wearing just white panties and a strapless bra with stockings, suspenders and heels.
