My first wife Yvonne and I married young. She had just turned 19 and I was 22. It wasn't a shotgun wedding or anything like that, we didn't have to get married. I think Yvonne was desperate to leave home, primarily because of her mother.
Yvonne was gorgeous, she had a fantastic figure and she loved sex. She was willing to try anything and she loved sucking my cock. Her mother was quite religious. Yvonne and I didn't fuck until a month before the wedding. This was in case Yvonne got pregnant, her mother would have given her so much grief.
As I said, Yvonne was willing to try anything once and everything we tried (that didn't involve a lot of pain) became part of our sexual relationship. So whenever we had chance we would enjoy each other. Making out, oral, 69 and even anal.
Her mother, Viv, was in her early to mid-forties, but she looked more like sixty. Very straight laced. Her hair was predominantly grey and she never had it coloured. She never went to a hairdresser.
She tended to dress in tweed skirts with a blouse and cardigan. She wore no makeup, except on special occasions. She was pretty much average build, with large, but not huge breasts and the same could be said about her arse.
In her looks she reminded me of Mary Whitehouse. (Mary Whitehouse was a clean-up TV, "ban this filth," campaigner who was very active in the 60's-70s.)
Viv wore support bandages on her knees and when we first met, I made the mistake of asking if she'd had an accident. I then listened politely while she went through her entire medical history, arthritis in her knees, also her hips and hands, and numerous other ailments. I soon learned not to ask how she was.
At the time, 1977, I was living in Nottingham with a mate in his mobile home (as we call them in the UK, in the US you would call them trailers.) Anyhow, he was selling up to buy a house with his fiancée so I needed to find somewhere temporarily and moved in with Yvonne and her parents.
I was working shifts, 6am to 2pm one week, then 2pm to 10pm the next week. One time I came home from an early shift and as I entered the house, I could hear a vacuum cleaner running. The house was a 3-bedroom detached house with 1950's décor and furniture.
As you came in through the front door you were in an entrance hall with stairs to the left. The kitchen was straight ahead. To the right was a door to an infrequently used front room, there were sliding doors with obscure glass separating the front room from the back room.
I went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. There was a serving hatch in the wall between the kitchen and the back room, Viv was cleaning the back room. I opened the hatch to ask her if she wanted a drink as I was making one.
She didn't hear me open the hatch due to the noise of the vacuum cleaner. She had her back to me so she didn't see me either. She was vigorously pushing the cleaner back and forth, she moved an armchair so she could clean under it. I didn't shout out as I didn't want to startle her, so I just closed the hatch.
I couldn't believe it; she'd always got up out of her chair with difficulty and walked stiffly and slowly with the aid of a walking stick. However, there she was, moving fluently, energetically and moving furniture with ease. It was all an act. I went through to the front room and proceeded to open the sliding door, the noise and movement of that door opening would warn her of my presence.
As I entered, she'd obviously realised someone was there. She was now pushing the cleaner slowly, moving awkwardly with one hand on her hip, with a grimace on her face.
I then knew for certain that she was nowhere near as ill as she made herself out to be.
I lived there for about six months. I was given a separate room to sleep in but Yvonne and I managed to get some privacy and except for one time, we weren't disturbed or interrupted. Most nights Viv went to bed about 9:30
Yvonne's dad, Phillip, got home from work around midnight, if he was doing a late shift. Otherwise, he'd be in bed before Viv.
Once we were on our own downstairs, Yvonne and I were all over each other, mutual masturbation and oral, (including 69.) We only had anal sex when we had the house to ourselves, as Yvonne became very vocal!
One time we did get caught. Viv entered Yvonne's bedroom one Saturday afternoon without knocking, just as Yvonne was giving me a blow job. From the doorway Viv would have had a clear view of my 7", thick cock.
Viv just gasped, "Oh my Lord!"
Then after staring for a second or two she put the clothes she had in her hand on the floor. She had another quick glance as she straightened up then she left the room and closed the door.
Nothing was said when we went downstairs. Although for a few weeks it seems things were a little bit strained between Viv and I. Yvonne said she'd had a conversation with her mother later that day, but she didn't want to talk about it and said it was nothing to worry about. I left it at that. Probably some religious shit.
Yvonne and I bought our own house and we got married in '78. For the summer of '79, Yvonne's parents had booked a self-catering chalet for 2 weeks in a holiday park near St. Agnes in Cornwall. They asked if we wanted to share and with us being cash-strapped newlyweds we said yes. Despite us both working full time we didn't have much money left after the mortgage and bills were paid.
I'll say now that I had never thought of Viv in a sexual way, not until this holiday.
The chalet slept 4, it had one double bedroom, a bathroom and an open plan lounge/kitchenette/diner. The lounge had a pull-out sofa bed and that's where Yvonne and I slept. Either side of the sofa were curtains that ran in a ceiling mounted track, rather like a hospital bed, to give a little privacy. Outside there was a small patio with table, chairs and a nice sea view.
Most days were spent going to local beaches. Viv used a wheelchair and ordinarily it would have pissed me off to push it, (as I knew she was perfectly capable of walking.)
The reason it didn't bother me was that she had taken to wearing loose fitting cotton summer dresses, rather than tweed skirts. The sort of dresses that button up the front. I had a clear view of her ample bosom as I leaned forward to operate the brake or listen more closely to what she was saying.
I wasn't lusting after Viv or anything, even at this point. It was just a randy young man's curiosity, appreciating a female attribute that was on display. (Well, there had to be some upside to pushing a wheelchair when the occupant could easily walk!)
One beach was only accessible by going down a path on the cliff side. Some stretches of the path were a concrete slope, but steeper sections were steps. It was doable, but hard work. Tipping the chair back to go down the steps was another opportunity to ogle Viv's heavy breasts.
There was nothing on the beach but sand and surf. All amenities were at the cliff top. Viv didn't put on a swimming costume or a bikini, she never went in the sea. She just wore the sun dresses, opening a couple more buttons at the top and hiking the hem to the top of her thighs, to get a tan she always said.
I would lie on a towel to sunbathe, sometimes positioning myself so I could see up Viv's dress while pretending to be asleep. With my sunglasses on she couldn't see that I wasn't asleep. On several occasions I was rewarded with an impressive display of a plump, panty clad pussy bulge and escaping pubes.
One morning, Yvonne and her dad had gone up the cliff to get some ice-cold drinks etc. They were usually gone about half an hour.
On this occasion Viv said, "David, I really need to pee but I don't want to ask you to push me up there and then back again."
I felt like saying, "Just fucking walk up then."
