They come rushing at you when you least suspect them.
You can walk into a house and take in the heady aroma of a cake being baked and you'll be transported back to your grandmother's kitchen. You can smell an empty beer bottle and suddenly there you are playing hide and seek behind a pile of your uncle's empties. Smell is our most powerful sense and we all have a repertoire of aromatic triggers nicely tucked away in that gluggy grey mass we call a brain.
For Smithy though it was a picture he found while cleaning out his shed that prompted him to seek me out. It was a fairly poor attempt at producing a 'film noir' style portrait of him out on Bear Island at La Perouse. It was taken way back in 1979 and now Smithy had typed my name into Facebook and there I was.
My profile was barely used but when my son uploaded a family photo onto it, all doubt as to which Mark Gibbs I was, was removed. There was no ambiguity. I was now in cyber space for all to find.
'Hi Gibbsy, ' his message read, 'Can you believe this social networking thing? I found an old pic you took back in the 70's and I thought I'd see if you are still alive and kicking. Looks like you are certainly making your way in the world. I'm up near Byron Bay with my partner and her kids and tomorrow I'm over to Lennox Heads to see mum... '
That was when my memory trigger snapped into life. It wasn't Smithy himself that did it, not overtly anyway, it was the word 'mum'.
' ... I'm sure she'll be pleased to hear I've made contact with you. If you are ever up here you'll have to come and visit.'
Funny thing that. The last thing I'd want is me turning up on my doorstep after an unexplained 30 year absence.
Now let me tell you about Smithy's mum. Smithy's mum was hot. If the term MILF had existed back in 1979, she would have been called one. I was 18 at the time and Smithy was a bloke I'd met at Art College. He was a bit 'out there' to say the least. He was the pot smoking, acid taking, long haired cliché of the 70's. Thanks to Smithy I met the horniest and most insatiable woman of all time, his mum.
Pam was 36. For the numerologically challenged she was twice my age. She'd had Smithy when she was 18 and as far as I know the father never hung around past the post-coital wipe. Pam taught art at a local girl's high school and was a very accomplished artist held in high esteem by the art fraternity. The man that lived with Pam was 'a boarder' called Jim. Jim lived in a granny flat out in the backyard. The granny flat was part of the garage/studio where Pam, Jim and Smithy worked on their artistic projects. Jim was an artist who'd had a few pissweak, pretentious and poorly attended exhibitions in wanky arthouses. To make ends meet Jim worked as a sign writer for a large company.
Everyone knew that Jim was her lover but even in the supposed free-wheeling and open 70's, it still wasn't OK to be living in sin. Especially not in lovely middle class Kogarah Bay, a suburb of Sydney.
I first met Pam when I cruised around to pick Smithy up before going to a friends exhibition. On entering the house the smell of incense filled my nostrils and even now, thirty years later, whenever I smell incense the memory trigger vortex opens up and I remember how stunning she looked as she sat at the kitchen table wearing a white cheesecloth shirt with a black bikini underneath. The sun filtered through her long brown hair and when she stood to greet me her tall lithesome figure silhouetted against the French doors.
I'm not usually one for shyness but I was instantly, and somewhat embarrassingly, taken aback by the sensuality of this woman. She walked and carried herself like a model and I was stupefied. She had the kind of cheekbones that would make most women curse her in envy. I wished that she had been my art teacher at high school and not the fat American idiot we'd had.
"Um hi," was about all I could say.
"Hi Mark," she said looking me in the eye. "I'm Pam, pleased to meet you at last."
I couldn't keep my eyes off her body and as she came closer I actually became more nervous. I looked anxiously over to Smithy and he just smiled and went into his room, leaving the two of us alone.
"Paul says that you are an accomplished photographer?" She asked.
"Oh, I'm getting there," I said.
"What do you like taking photos of?"
"People mainly," I said feeling a touch more relaxed. "I like the work of Henri Cartier-Bresson."
"Ah 'The Decisive Moment' man," she said putting the parenthesis in the air with her hands.
"You know about him then?" Stupid of me to say that of course, she was a bloody art teacher after all, but I was glad to know that I didn't have to make up the usual small talk that went with talking to other friends parents.
"I studied art for a few years," Smithy came back out of the room and she turned towards him, "I think that's where he gets his artistic skills from."
"Probably," he said to her, "You are an art teacher after all." He looked at me "Ready?" He said.
"Raring to go," I said.
"Enjoy," she said as we left.
I decided not to say anything to Smithy about how hot his mum was but I took every opportunity that presented itself to avail myself of her beauty. For about two months I appeared at his house more and more regularly with the excuse of wanting to see him about working on our artworks. Artworks that included a picture that 30 years later, would once again remind me of a time well spent.
It wasn't just physical though. We could talk art and politics well into the evening and get drunk and eat great food cooked by Jim. His only real talent was being a deft and creative cook. We would sit at the table and if our knees touched, or if we were so close we had to rub against each other, we wouldn't move. On a few occasions I was so wasted that I slept over and watched enviously as she and Jim caressed each other before going off to bed together. Thankfully they always went out to Jim's bed in the Granny flat and I crashed on the lounge.
It was on one visit, when I thought Smithy was at home, that things got exciting.
I'd just taken possession of a brand new Pentax MX with a fast f1.4 50mm lens and I was mad keen to test it out. I'd rolled five rolls of black and white film and I thought I'd do a few portraits of Smithy inside using available light
Pam answered the door and welcomed me, smiling more than usual, into the house. This time she was wearing a short floral mini skirt and a singlet top. She never wore anything that covered her tall, slender figure very much, and with a body like hers it was no surprise.
"What brings you here?" she asked.
"I've just got my new camera and I want to take a few shots of Paul," I called him Paul at home.
"He's not here," she said. "He's over at Julie's."
In my excitement I'd forgotten about his new girlfriend.
"Ah hell," I said. "Forgot about her."
"Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked.
"Not at the moment, no." Hell, technically I was still a virgin. All I'd ever had was a few hand jobs and a few blowies.
"Oh well, you will one day," she said. "Now what are you going to do?"
"I'm not sure."
"Would you like to take a few shots of me?"
I was flabbergasted. I could see that she was serious about the proposal when she turned and walked over to a dresser in the corner of the room.
"I had some taken by a friend a few months ago for Jim to do some paintings from but I'm not real happy about them," she said as she searched through the draws. When she bent over to look into the space below the draws, her arse poked nicely out. I felt like slapping it.
"Here they are," she pulled a folder out of the cramped dresser. She nodded at the dining table. "Take a seat."
I went to sit opposite her but she tapped the seat next to her.
"You'll see better here."
Her mini skirt rode up to within two inches of her panties and although I'd seen them many times before, it took all my powers of self control not to ogle her fantastic legs.
Pam patted the folder, looked me square in the eye and asked me a question I will never forget.
"Do you have an open mind?" she asked.
My stomach actually did a flip when she said that and I surprised myself with the answer.
"Yeah, umm of course I do," I stammered.
"Because some of these are a bit," she opened the folder and looked inside, "revealing."
Even without seeing anything I knew that we had entered a new stage in our two month old relationship. Until now all it had been was me perving at her while waiting for Smithy and talking about art and politics.
I smiled and looked at the folder. "I'm sure I'll cope."
She slid eight large black and white prints out of the folder and splayed them out in front of me.
They were all of her in a studio with some nice backlighting and a soft filter on the lens. In all of them she looked very uncomfortable and overly posed. She was wearing a long black dress that was meant to be all billowing and hip.
"He wanted me to look a bit like Stevie Nicks on that Rumours album," she said as she flipped them about, "but I don't like them."
"The lighting is OK," I said, "but you look too tense or something."
"I didn't like the concept too much so I asked him to change it."
"What to?" I asked.
"These," she said as she pulled out another four images. "These are the rude ones I was telling you about." She chuckled naughtily like a teenager.
I sat on the chair with my dick growing uncomfortably as I looked at four technically good, but compositionally poor, pictures of Pam posing in four different ways.
They all featured her in the nude, in a range of awkward stances, with a crumpled sheet in the background. I could feel myself beginning to shake as I looked at them. I tried mightily hard to train myself at looking more at the lighting and quality of the prints than at her gorgeous naked form. I saw her desire for me to look at the prints as an affirmation of her appreciation of me as a photographer and nothing more. I decided to say as much.
"You know its not very often I look at nude photos of my mate's mums," I laughed.
She laughed as well, put her hand on my shoulder and then spun me out with her next question.
"Would you like to take some of me?"
"Nudes?" I asked blinking in disbelief.
She nodded and said, "If you wouldn't mind."
I looked at the pictures on the table in front of me and thought about what was on offer.
"I will," I said to her, "but not like these."
She almost jumped out of her skin in excitement.
"Oh fantastic," she said as she stood up. "When would you like to do it." And then she answered her own question. "Would you like to do it now?"
I looked at the lounge over near the window and at the way the light shone through.
"Actually now would be good," I said nodding towards the lounge. "The light looks nice."
"I need to do my hair a bit," she said flicking it over her shoulder.
I knew what was wrong with the pictures and I decided that being honest was probably the best approach.
"I think that it would be best if you left it how it is," I picked up one of the nude pics of her and pointed to her hair. "It looks too controlled for who you are. You don't need to be made up."
"You're the boss," she said smiling. "I'll go and get ready."
It was a heady mixture of sexual excitement and artistic endeavour that flowed through my veins as I grabbed my camera out of my bag. With Parkinson's like shaking hands I loaded in a roll of 36 and took a light meter reading on the lounge.
I heard Pam's footsteps as she came back down the hall and I took a deep breath in anticipation.
She wasn't naked but wore a long silk dressing gown.
"You look very professional," she said as she walked towards the lounge.
"As do you."
"How would you like me to pose?" she asked as she sat on the lounge.
"Just get comfortable and we'll take it from there," I said.
I was tingling with excitement and my dick was about two thirds hard. I had to cover it with something so I threw my camera bag over my shoulder and swung it around in front of me. She looked at me with a friendly smile.
She stood up and I politely looked into my camera bag as she removed the robe. I could see quite clearly, out of the corner of my eye, what she was doing and I said to myself 'Be professional'.
When I looked up her splendid body was partially silhouetted against the window so I took a shot.
"I'll just take photos as you pose," I said. "So just get comfortable."
I spent a lot of time looking at my camera, checking the exposures etc, and trying not to overtly perve at her.
Pam was an expert once she got started. She stood looking out the window, sat on the edge of the lounge and leant forward and also lay back onto the lounge. I adjusted angles and exposures and once the first roll was finished I rewound it and she lay back relaxing on the lounge.
"This is much better," she said. "You make me feel very relaxed. Jim will like these ones."
"As long as Paul doesn't know; I'm happy," I said laughingly.
"One thing I'm good at is keeping secrets," Pam said. "Are you ready to continue?"
I closed the back of the camera and nodded.
Pam was really getting into the modelling business and I could see that she was becoming quite excited by it all. At one moment she ran her hand up the centre of her body drawing an imaginary line from belly button to between her breasts. My cock was uncomfortable in my pants so I took the opportunity to adjust it through the lining of the camera bag. I don't want to seem like a braggart but from the other dicks I'd seen in my life, mine was on the larger size. I'd never measured it as I hadn't see the need.
My attempt to rearrange the tackle however didn't go unnoticed. Pam looked over as I readjusted myself and let out a little giggle.
"Exciting work isn't it?" she asked.
I blushed bright red, nodded and looked into the bag as if I was searching for something. Pam stood up and walked over to the pianola that was next to the fireplace.
"Is the light good here?"
I looked up and she was smiling wickedly as she sat on the stool.
"I can make it work"
She was looking at my crotch as I came closer and just as I lifted my camera she opened her legs revealing her open pussy to me. I didn't even take a shot and I dropped the camera down to stare at her.
"Are you going to take a photo or not?" she laughed. "Or are you too uncomfortable?"
I had to laugh. It was all I could do really. That and apologise.
"I'm really sorry," I said "This is too much."
"Come here," she said beckoning me forward.
"I'm not sure..." I said before she interrupted.
"I've been watching you for some time Mark."
"Why?" I asked surprised.
"Well you're not like most 18 year olds," she said standing up. "You're a lot more mature and sensible."
"Umm thanks," was about all I could say.
"Which is why I think you can handle this."
She leant forward and kissed me on the mouth. My body went into overdrive. I had a completely naked, gorgeous woman kissing me on the lips and sliding in a bit of tongue.
My teenage hormones took over any rationalisation and I just wanted to fuck. I moved the camera bag over to my side and pulled her closer. My cock rubbed against her pubes and she ground her self against me.
After a few seconds of grinding she broke our kiss and looked down at my groin with pure lust in her eyes.
"Now that is certainly bigger than I imagined," she said.
I said nothing but felt complimented that she'd even been imagining it at all.
"I think he needs a little fresh air," she said as she grabbed the buckle on my belt. She was actually a bit feverish in her rush to get at my dick so I took over and unbuckled myself. My cock was damp from a mixture of sweat and pre-cum oozing out. I pulled it out and she grabbed it and moaned. "Oh God that is beautiful."
With a few strokes it was up and ready to go and she went back to kissing me as she rubbed my cock. Her mouth was wide open and her tongue flicked over mine. She grabbed my balls as she did so and I could feel the difference between an experienced woman and the other younger girls I had played with.
"That is a big dick you have there Mark," she said looking at it.
"Umm thanks," I said, clearly chuffed by the compliment.
"I think that you may need some lessons on women though."
"What do you mean?" I was perplexed.
"I've been waiting for you to crack on to me for weeks," she said smiling.
"I wasn't sure if I should," I had to admit that I wanted to. "I've been wanting to for weeks."
"Well get undressed and let me see what I've been missing out on."
I'm sure that I broke any records for disrobing. I was naked in microseconds and my young cock stood proudly to attention.
"Now that is a fine looking cock. Come over here and sit down," she motioned to the lounge as she spoke.
I was almost there before she finished the sentence.
She picked up a cushion and dropped it to the floor and then she pointed at the lounge in front of it and said, "Sit right there."
I obediently sat down with my cock standing proudly in the air.
"That is the largest cock I have ever seen," she said as she licked her lips. "Boy am I gonna have fun with that."
She knelt down on the pillow and moved my legs apart. My sweaty balls had tightened up and she grabbed my dick as she moved forward. Her arse pointed towards the front door and it was then that I realised that if anyone had walked by, or even looked over the fence, they would have seen quite a show.
She leant forward and holding my cock with her right hand she licked up the underside from the base of it slowly up to the head.
When she reached the top a small glob of precum was oozing out and rather than avoiding it like the younger girls that had given me head, she scooped her tongue underneath and lifted it, on the tip of her tongue, upwards. I had never had anyone come even close to licking my cum before. I was entranced as a string of jism hung between her mouth and my dick.
She simply licked her lips, and while looking me dead in the eye, she pulled my dick toward her and sunk her mouth down over my cock. I watched as she tried to get as much as she could in and I could feel her moving her tongue around my knob.
She slowly slid her mouth off and my cock was coated heavily with her spit. I was about ready to blow my load and tried to exercise great self control, but when she began pulling on my cock, and looking at me, I couldn't stay the distance, and she knew it too.
"Don't try to hold it back," she said. "I don't want those balls to explode."
She pumped even harder but it wasn't my balls that exploded, but my cock. It was like a blowhole in a king tide.
"Good lord," Pam said as a glob of cum shot about 12 inches into the air and landed on her shoulder. "Talk about back pressure."
My cock continued to spray cum in all directions and as she moved her face forward a stream landed across her nose and down her left cheek. Unlike the younger girls I'd had give me blow jobs, Pam was not concerned about the cum at all. In fact what she did next convinced me of the virtue of the older woman.
My dick was still shooting smaller sprays of cum and it was everywhere. I had a fair bit just running off my dick down onto her hand and without hesitation she leant forward and slid my cock, cum and all, back into her mouth. She licked at it like an ice-cream and even licked the cum off her hand like a cat licks its paw.
My dick in those days, took a lot of beating, so to speak, and as she sucked and licked it, it remained at full mast.
Pam looked up at me, with cum all over her face and mouth, and said, "Now you get to fuck me."