Mandy was my first real girlfriend. We had been together since our mid-teens and now we were having problems. Or to be more precise, I was having a problem with her reluctance to go all the way. We would spend hours leaning against a wall at the back of her parents' house with my finger inside her until it wrinkled.

I loved the smell of her pussy juice and there were times when I wouldn't wash that hand for days so I could take a quick, beautiful sniff of her during a lesson at school or while watching TV with my family. I don't know what accounts for the intensity of the aroma in teenage girls, but it's not nearly as succulent as they get older.

Probably hormones of some sort, a young woman's body continuing the primitive tradition of letting men know she was there, she was fertile and for the sake of the human race, she was available to become pregnant and provide a new generation.

It's one of those subjects that will probably never be properly addressed by science because it's not important in the grand scheme of things, and anyway, I am happy to continue doing the practical research myself. There's a similar question as to why a vagina tastes indescribably wonderful just after the woman has had an orgasm. A fact that has probably escaped a lot of people's attention because the orgasm usually signals the end of the session and it is probably full of semen by that time.

Anyway, so Mandy and I were approaching make-your-mind-up time. All of my friends - the ones cool enough to get girls, at least - seemed to be getting the full experience and I was still sniffing my fingers.

Mandy would put her hand inside my underpants and give me a bit of a feel, but she seemed determined not to get me too revved up in case things got out of control, which of course was exectly what I wanted.

I wanted her naked, out of control on a bed with the sole intention of getting fucked, which I gathered women were perfectly capable of, despite their tendency to make you take things slowly.

There is a theory that if you want to see how a girl will turn out, just look at her mother, and I decided to give that a whirl. Mrs Hubert was short and round, with a rather large nose, but there was a lot of Mandy about her, except in one notable department: she had nice big tits while Mandy had missed out completely.

She complained that one boy had described her chest as being like two aspirins on an ironing board. That doesn't affect how sensitive they are, though, and she loved to have me suck her nipples.

Her Mum had big housewifely breasts and a substantial arse. She dressed like a housewife too, purely for comfort and practicality, with no hint of making herself look attractive for others to admire and desire. Her (second) husband, Bradley, was a nice enough guy but a bit of a dork and I could imagine that they had had sex a couple of times soon after they met, just to confirm their couple status, but then left it alone, because sex was an inconvenience that could get in the way of real life.

Some Sunday afternoons at their house they would get out the photographs and videos of family holidays, which was fun for them but boring for me. But once I had started looking at Mrs Hubert in the flesh I came to notice her in the videos too. There she was: ten years younger, on the beach in a sensible one-piece navy blue swimsuit, but I could see the tops of her breasts and the fleshy beginnings of her arse at the top of those dumpy legs.

It occurred to me that behind that drab nylon sheath lurked nipples, a navel, pubic hair and - for God's sake - a cunt. She was a fully working woman with all the assets a man could want. And even though she didn't have sex much now, at least she had had it and her vagina worked well enough to have a penis in it and she had allowed a man to shoot his seed up there.

At that deprived, ignorant, desperate point in my life, she seemed to be the answer, and I couldn't believe I hadn't thought about it before.

I began contriving to be in confined spaces with her, helping clear the table and taking the dishes into the kitchen, which was very much her domain and her husband and daughter left her to it.

She thanked me for my help and patted me on the arm, and I graduated to standing behind her and leaning up to put the salt back in the cupboard, my front touching her back in the most innocent, casual way. And then, having not been slapped or even reprimanded, I would do it with more contact, my cock against her buttocks, then sliding sideways so it slipped into the cleft that existed beneath her skirt and knickers.

Ah, her knickers! I made a point of locating the laundry basket in the master bedroom and quickly rummaging through the discarded clothes until I found a pair of sensible knickers that weren't Mandy's. I put them to my nose and inhaled, and all there was was stale piss, but it was Mrs Hubert's stale piss.

And then I assessed where her arse would be and sniffed there in the hope that they would have ridden up into her crack at some point. I imagined a faint trace of that. I had to step quickly into the toilet to deal with the boner that had appeared in my underpants, running the cold water and tryng desperately to think of something else.

Hearing footsteps in the hall, I quickly opened the door, expecting to find Mandy, but from the lounge came the sound of her and her stepfather laughing at some hilarious piecture or other. In front of me stood Mrs Hubert, smiling quizzically.

"I thought you'd fallen down the hole," she said jauntily, brushing past me and jack-knifing to prepare to sit and piss.

"Close the door,  dear," she said. In an instant, I decided to close it from the inside and gave her an awkward smile.

"As you wish," she said, "but I really need to wee. Lock it."

The laughter in the front room had turned to an animated discussion as I twisted the little lock. When I turned back to Mrs Hubert she was sitting on the toilet with her knickers stretched at her knees and her urine hissing into the bowl, then drumming into the water. I watched, spellbound, until she finished and stood up, wiping herself with two sheets of toilet paper and quickly rinsing her hands. All in a nanosecond she returned herself to normal and slipped past me and out the door without a word.

Back in the room, Bradley looked up at me.

"Sorry," he said. "This isn't as much fun for you as it is for us. Let's have a cup of tea."

His wife stood up on cue and shot me a quick smile.

"Give me a hand, can you?"

I followed her into the kitchen

"Those two are going to church tonight," she said. "I'm not. Why don't you say you're going home and then come back about six?"

"Hmm, yeah, okay," I mumbled.

I could have walked home and come back because we lived just ten minutes away, but I was like a fish out of water and I knew my parents would see I was up to something so I just wandered around the country lanes for a while. When I got back to the Huberts' house the car had gone. I rang the bell nervously and Mrs Hubert opened it and walked back into the lounge.

"Sit there," she said, pointing to the sofa. We sat together and I wondered if I had misunderstood and this was to be a grilling or a lecture.

"So you and Mandy are not like you used to be," she ventured. I nodded.

"Have you had...?" she mumbled, the bravado having suddenly disappeared.

"No," I said. "Just..."

"Fumbling around up against the wall and feeling her up in the car while I'm in the shop," she said, regaining control.

"That kind of thing," I said.

"She's always been like that," Mrs Hubert said. "She's got no get-up-and-go. And you're entering the prime of your life. A young man has certain needs." I was blushing crimson but calmed down a little when she put her hand on my knee.

"Come with me," Mrs Hubert said, and led me by the hand into the spare bedroom.

"Let's pick up where you are used to leaving off," she said, putting her arms out to welcome me I held her close and her lower body pressed firmly against mine. She kissed me and, dumb kid that I was, I took a second to realise I was allowed to kiss her back. With that ball rolling nicely, she took my right hand and placed it under her skirt. I stroked her through her knickers, and she grumbled.

"Inside," she ordered. I worked my hand in there and hesitantly slipped a finger into her hole. It was just like fingering her daughter, just a bit easier to get in there. Still, we kissed and then I felt the urge to kiss her neck. As I did so she whispered, "Use your tongue."

I licked her in what I didn't actually know was an erogenous zone but to which I was instinctively drawn.

"That's nice," she breathed. "Have you ever licked a woman? I mean..."

"No," I said She promptly sat on the bed and removed her underwear. With her skirt up around her waist, I was looking down at the business end of a woman who wanted me to do things to her. Her hair all but obscured her vagina and I had to part it to get my tongue in there.

She gave a little pant and then inhaled and said, "Yes."

I licked her eagerly and clumsily and made embarrassing slurping sounds. She was wetter than Mandy had ever been to my finger but she didn't smell as strongly.

"Yes, just like that," she said happily. "Now let's take our clothes off."

I automatically turned away from her, because you don't display yourself to other people, but when I turned back to her she was looking right at my raging erection.

"Wow," she said. "We'd better find a place to put that, hadn't we?"

I climbed on top of her and slipped inside of her as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She wasn't my girlfriend's mother or Bradley's wife, she was my first fuck and I was going to take her to heaven and back.

Of course, it was I who was in heaven, on a helter-skelter ride and although I tried to stop myself, I came almost immediately, pumping my pent-up semen into her and then pulling out in case she hadn't taken precautions. Such a sensible boy. My spunk squirted all over her crotch.

"I'm on the pill," she said, reading my mind. Then she grabbed her knickers and wiped my mess.

"Don't worry," she said, kissing me on the nose. "It gets better."