Introduction.
They say a sign of getting older is when you can remember what happened forty years ago but can't remember what you were doing this morning! Well, even though I'm able to remember this morning, I surely remember, most clearly, happenings from forty years ago when I was in my late teens. I'd like you to bear in mind that those happenings were in the late Nineteen-Sixty's here in the UK when, despite the explosion of sex, drugs and rock n roll, there were a hell of a lot of us still into practical innocence! You might find the lack of common terms for sex and genitals boring, but that's how her family spoke. Also, names and specific locations have been changed or omitted to protect the living. Everyone in this story is over 18 years old.
*****
Like mother, like daughter. Part 1. Mother shows how it's done.
I steered my old motorbike into the driveway of my girlfriend's house. It was late November and, even at four pm, the cold Lancashire air had numbed my hands and legs and I knew I could expect a hot cup of tea (with a touch of whisky in it). I switched off the engine, stood the bike on its side stand and stiffly climbed the steps to the front door.
It opened as I got there, which didn't surprise me as the exhaust on the bike had been gutted and the noise could be heard all the way up the long street. What did slightly surprise me, though, was it wasn't Lena, my girlfriend, who stood there but Linda, her mother.
Linda worked in the local library and usually didn't get home until six pm. On the other hand, Lena usually got home from college about four pm, giving us time for some kissing and cuddling on the sofa which was as far as we had gotten. In fact, although we both knew the biological aspects, I doubt we'd have known exactly what we were doing at that time. As I said before, in those days it wasn't all that unusual for two eighteen year olds to be virginal!
"Hello, Philip. You look frozen! How about a nice hot cup of tea?" Linda asked.
She closed the front door behind me and led the way into the kitchen/dining room. Linda had a thing about woollen clothing. This evening she was wearing a white woolly jumper, a green, knee length wool skirt and multicoloured woollen stockings which disappeared under her skirt. They weren't the saggy gear of well worn clothes but fresh and new and, as they were a neat fit, they clung closely to every curve of her body, outlining her well rounded shape.
She was about five foot five and neither fat nor thin. In fact you would say more or less stocky. Lena took after her mum, although a couple of inches taller and just a touch plumper. Interestingly enough, I had never really taken much notice of Linda's figure but for some reason, as I followed her that night, I found myself watching how Linda's bottom cheeks moved under her skirt, which was slightly tucked into the crack between those cheeks. I also found myself wondering how far up her legs, and under the skirt, those stockings went.
I sat myself down on a chair, at the table, and watched as Linda moved about making our tea. I couldn't stop myself from looking at the front of Linda's jumper and noticing how far her breasts thrust outward, the woollen jumper following the contours underneath. To my surprise, and embarrassment, I could feel an increasingly uncomfortable bulge under my trousers as I became pretty hard.
I couldn't help looking down and, as I quickly lifted my gaze back to normal, my eyes went to Linda's face. She had put the teacup on the table in front of me and couldn't help but see the quite pronounced swelling at my crotch. I felt my face flushing red-hot but before I could say, or do, anything, and to my amazement, Linda actually smiled.
"Thinking of my Lena, were you?" she asked.
"No, it's you," I was so taken by surprise, I answered without thinking.
I expected her to kick me out of the house, then and there, but, in fact, she slowly sat down next to me with a look on her face that I was too inexperienced to understand.
"You've been coming to our house for over a year now but I've never seen any sign of interest in me before," she said.
"Tonight is the first time I realised what an attractive woman you are," I answered, before I realised what her words meant.
Then it sunk in.
"You mean you've been looking for a sign?" I asked.
It was Linda's turn to flush red-faced.
"You're a good-looking young man and your erection reminded me of the time when I was Lena's age. Seeing it made me feel younger, just looking at you and fantasising about you," she replied.
I couldn't say anything for a minute or two. There was a woman, which I'd only seen as Lena's mum, telling me she'd fancied me for months. Normally, I would have made excuses and left but something kept me rooted to my chair. I actually had no idea how to go on. I just stared at her and, without realising, my gaze dropped from her face to her wool-covered breasts.
