Instantly Attracted to Angela

An 18-year-old boarder and the 21-year-old son of the homeowners fall in love at first sight. When they are alone one Saturday night, nature takes its course.

Author’s Note: If you are looking for a tale that is abounding with sex, this is not for you. Instead, this is a cute, romantic story, with a sexual climax, about two young people whom fate brought together. They fell in love with each other at first glance. If that appeals to you, please read on!

Part One

It was one of those things where if you saw it occur in a movie you’d say, “Come on! That sort of instant attraction between two complete strangers is the stuff of fiction. There’s no way that occurs in real life!” Yet it did for me—and for an absolute doll I met on Labor Day of 1985 named Angela McIntyre. Fortunately for me, it was not just a brief meeting. Angela was going to be a boarder at my family’s house for at least eight months.

My name is Jeffrey Maloney. Everyone calls me Jeff. I was 21 years old in 1985. After high school, I had completed a combination broadcast and print journalism course at the local community college, but jobs in that field were scarce—and I learned from a couple of my classmates who did find employment that the pay for most graduates was pitiful. I was earning more money than they were by working days as an office clerk and by being a sports official at night and on the weekends. In fact, I should not have been present that Labor Day. I was umpiring softball games at a local tournament that holiday. I expected it to be an all-day assignment, but it turned out that fewer teams had entered the event than expected, so all my games were done by 12 noon. That made me available to go to the Greyhound Bus depot with my parents to pick up an 18-year-old, female student who would be boarding with us through at least April 1986.

Nobody in our family had met Angela before that day. She was the neighbor of longtime family friends—The Morrisons—who now lived in a small town about 120 miles north of us. Angela had enrolled at the same community college that I had recently graduated from. Her interest was early childhood education; she intended to be a kindergarten teacher or something along those lines. Her classes would start the very next day. She needed a place to stay. By a happy coincidence, my 18-year-old sister, Jennifer, would be starting her post-high school education at a university some 80 miles away, which left her bedroom vacant. With Jennifer’s blessing, Angela could use her bedroom. It appeared to be a win-win arrangement for everybody.

I was the only member of my household who was slightly skeptical. I had nothing against Angela personally, but I had heard a few horror stories from friends about boarders. Some were quickly found to be misfits by the homeowners because they were slobs, they were pushy, or they just generally didn’t mesh with the host family. I expressed these concerns to my parents—and they dismissed them. My mother said, “Jeff, the Morrisons tell us that Angela is a friendly, quiet, studious girl who gets along with everyone she meets. Apparently, she’s a real sweetheart. Hey, maybe you’ll pick up a new girlfriend in this arrangement.”

That offhand remark struck a sore spot with me. I’d had a girlfriend named Cheryl all the way through high school. Upon graduation, she traveled 300 miles away to attend university, immediately fell for the captain of the men’s volleyball team, and quickly ditched me with a Dear John letter that was less than a page long. I was embittered, of course. My response was to have very little interest in pursuing any romantic relationship in the intervening three years. I just laughed at my mother’s hopeful comment. “I’ll just be happy if Angela is a tolerable boarder and not some dud,” I bluntly said.

When my softball umpiring assignments finished at noon on Labor Day, I came home, showered, had a light lunch with my parents, and headed to the Greyhound station with them to meet Angela. Her bus was scheduled to arrive at 2:50 p.m. The “station” was basically just a store front that was part of a strip mall. We were parked in its lot by 2:35. Her bus arrived exactly on time. My mother, fearing that Angela would not find us (and vice versa) had created a sign on green poster board that had Angela’s full name printed in black letters. She waved it at the bus as it pulled in. She need not have bothered. Only two people disembarked from the bus. One was a sixtyish man. The other was Angela. Angela did see the sign, however. She gleefully waved at our car through the window and quickly disembarked to retrieve her three suitcases of personal items from the bus’s storage compartment.

From a distance I could see that Angela McIntyre was a cutie. I rushed with my father to help her carry her belongings to our car. Then it magically happened. I looked at her. She looked at me and there was an immediate connection. “Hello!” I said, emphasizing the second syllable of the word, “I’m Jeff Maloney.”

“Hi!” Angela replied. If you’ve ever seen the movie Breakfast at Tiffany’s, she said it exactly in the same adorable, sultry, sexy way that Audrey Hepburn cooed it to George Peppard when they first met onscreen. Honestly, if Angela had said to me, “Jeff, let’s get married tomorrow,” I would have said, “Sure! What time?” The mutual attraction was that sudden and that definite!

My father instructed Angela not to lift a single suitcase; we two would carry all her baggage to the car in shifts. Wise old Dad had sensed the connection Angela and I had instantly made in those few seconds. As we carried her first two bags toward our car, he put his right hand on my shoulder and jokingly asked me, “So…is Angela tolerable so far?”

“Oh, yes. Most definitely!” I replied. When we got to the car, we each placed her two suitcases in the car’s trunk and made room for the third one. Dad instructed me to go back to pick up Angela’s remaining suitcase by myself. Then he said to my mother, “Daphne, this might be a shock to you, but in less than a minute you will be meeting your future daughter-in-law.”

“What?” she said, with the expected degree of incredulity. She gave me a quick glance.

“I’m all in favor of that!” I told her without the slightest hesitation. I then headed back to the bus to meet my future wife. I didn’t walk; I ran.

Before I picked up Angela’s last suitcase, I took a few moments to study her. True to her name, she was absolutely angelic. Angela McIntyre was about 5’4” tall. She had a very pretty face with high cheekbones. Angela had a fabulous smile, too. She also wore metal-framed eyeglasses as I did. (They looked much more attractive on her than they did on me.) She also had a pleasing figure—which is always a bonus. Angela possessed a lovely set of round breasts that were just perfect for her size. She also had sexy, well-defined legs that she highlighted by wearing bright pink shorts and ankle socks. I gulped before mustering the nerve to say, “Angela, this is going to sound very forward, but I think you are the most attractive girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“Thank you, Jeffrey,” she quickly replied. “This is going to sound just as crazy, but I have a similar opinion about you. Please tell me you don’t have a girlfriend or a fiancée because I am very attracted to you!”

“I’m totally unattached!” I happily said for the first time since my breakup with Cheryl three years earlier. “Perhaps fate intended us to be attached.”

“Fate is a wonderful thing,” Angela replied. Then she hugged me in a very amorous way. Of course I hugged her right back in kind.

From a distance, my father shouted at us, “Okay, you two, knock it off! This is a public place and you’re creating a scene! Wait until you’re in the backseat of the car.”

“My father is a bit of a character,” I explained to the beautiful girl in my arms. “He’s a great guy, but he has a quirky sense of humor.”

Part Two

We did move our amorous actions to the backseat. While my mother tried to make small talk with her new boarder, Angela slipped her right hand into my left one and rested her head on my shoulder. She had a glazed, romantic look in her eye. Mom was babbling about how the city’s bus system could get her efficiently to and from college every day, and the many comforts our house had for her enjoyment. Angela was paying no attention. Mom saw us in the mirror and stopped talking.

“Geez!” she said. “I might as well say nothing right now. I think you have other things on your mind, Angela. This is unbelievable!” Then she laughed at the whole situation.

Angela promptly apologized for being inattentive. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Maloney. I don’t know what’s come over me.”

“I do!” my father chortled. “My wife acted the same way towards me on the first day we met.”

“That’s an outright lie, and you know it, Brian!” Mom replied to Dad. “I wasn’t especially attracted to you at all. You had to ask me for a date about a dozen times before I accepted. And I only accepted that time because my original date was ill. However, after that first date, I knew you were the guy for me and we’d be married sometime in the future.”

“As I said,” Dad insisted, “if you discount the dozen rejections beforehand, it was love at first sight!”

When we got home, I, of course, eagerly helped unload Angela’s suitcases and put them in Jennifer’s bedroom for her. She was quite happy with the room. Jennifer had emptied most of her dresser drawers and closets before she left for university, leaving Angela plenty of storage space. My mom was delighted to hear that Angela was pleased. It occurred to Mom that there might be some occasions when Jennifer was home while Angela was here. “When that happens,” Mom said, “I guess we’ll have to figure out where you will sleep.”

I couldn’t resist the opening. “I have an excellent suggestion!” I interjected.

“I’m sure you do!” Mom replied. “I was thinking more along the lines of using the pull-out bed that’s in the couch in the rec room. Jeff, you’re just a typical, horny young man. You take after your father. You don’t have to tell me what your excellent solution is. I already know what it is!”

When Mom stepped out of the room, Angela said to me in a voice just above a whisper, “This is quite a family you have, Jeff. You all say whatever you think. Don’t get me wrong, I like it. I’ve just never heard my own mother refer to anyone as being horny.”

“Thanks, Angela. I still say my solution is better—way better!” Then I gave her another hug.

The next day, before I went to my office job, I made sure that Angela understood the city bus schedule so she could get to college on time. This was a new experience for her as her small town had no need for municipal buses. She was pleasantly surprised by how efficient it was.

That night we both arrived home at very nearly the same time. “I see you figured out the bus system well enough to find your way back,” I congratulated her. “Yeah, I kind of like it. I met a few of my classmates on it. I’m going to buy a monthly pass because it’s bound to save me money in the long run.” My new love was beautiful, efficient and thrifty. I was loving her more by the minute.

It occurred to us that we were truly alone for the first time. A long, sensual kiss followed. My pulse was racing.

“Can we do something tonight, Jeff? I have nothing to do. I don’t have any school assignments. Today was basically just a welcome to the college. Do you have any plans?

“Unfortunately, I have to umpire a ballgame—men’s fastpitch softball--out in the boonies tonight. It begins at about 8 p.m. I have to leave at 7:15.”

“I don’t know anything about ballgames, but can I come watch you do this umpiring thing? It sounds like fun.”

I was shocked and very pleased. I told Angela this would be something of a rarity. “My father occasionally watches me umpire a game—maybe twice per season—if I tell him it’s likely to be an especially competitive contest. My mother never comes. She can’t stand to hear the verbal abuse I get from fans and players. It really bothers her.

“Count me in! This will be my first ballgame!” she said.

On the way to the ballpark, I gave Angela a rundown on what my job as an umpire was. I explained that two umpires worked the games in this men’s league. I was meeting my partner at the diamond because he was a local guy. I said that I had the bases tonight and my partner had the plate. Angela had no clue what I was talking about, so I gave her some very basic rules of the game. When I was done, I commented, “It’s very odd for me to run into someone who has never seen a baseball or softball game.”

Angela replied, “My parents aren’t sports fans. I play racquetball but only because a high school friend introduced me to the sport. I’m sure I’ll have lots of questions for you after the game.”

As I pulled into the parking lot, I suggested, “The crowds at these games are mostly friendly. If you ask the people in the grandstand questions, they will probably be happy to answer them. Wish me luck!”

The game was fairly routine. The home team won, 7-2. There was only one really close call I made that irked the crowd because it went against the home team. Angela greeted me when I left the diamond to put my uniform and gear into my car.

“I thought you were wonderful out there!” Angela said. “I didn’t understand too much of what was going on, but you looked like you knew how to handle things. I heard some fans say you were one of the best umpires in that league. But a heard another one call you a stupid motherfucker when they booed your call.”

I laughed and said, “That pretty much sums up the life of a sports official. Nobody remembers the 50 or 60 calls I got right. They only remember the ones they think I missed. I don’t think I missed that one, either.”

Angela amused me by telling me what she had learned about the sport by asking questions to other spectators. I was impressed she sort of understood what a force play was. I congratulated her. I told her I was scheduled to work a big tournament at a nearby town for most of Saturday. “It’s the year-end, wrap-up tourney for girls’ teams whose players are 12 and under. The place will be jammed with parents and grandparents--and I guarantee the food there will be great. I have to work six games from about 8 a.m. until 6 p.m. If you want to come along, just say yes. Afterwards we can go out together somewhere for a decent meal. I already love you but I want to start romancing you.”

“Sure,” Angela said, “I’ll come. I want to learn more. I have an idea how I might help you, too. I’m going to keep it a secret until Saturday, though.”

Part Three

On Wednesday night, Jennifer telephoned to report all was well with her after two days at university. She was curious how the new boarder was working out. Mom was on one extension and Dad on another. Dad was quick to give Jennifer an update. He said, “Your mother and I both think Angela is adorable and your brother fell in love with her in less than 30 seconds. Frankly, I don’t blame him. Oddly, Angela feels exactly the same way about him. Go figure. Your brother is a lucky fellow.”

My parents were going to a cottage with friends on the upcoming weekend. Thus, Angela and I would be alone in the house from Friday night to Sunday night. Angela was starting to get busy with assignments, but she promised to go to the girls’ tourney with me the next day. Dad sensed what would likely happen sometime during the weekend. When we had a moment alone, he mentioned, “The king-size bed in our bedroom is quite spacious and comfy, Jeff…if you get my drift.”

“I certainly do...and thanks!” I replied.

Angela and I did not cross paths on Friday night, but she was raring to go to the tourney early on Saturday morning. I was curious to learn what Angela’s secret plot to assist me was. She had an enormous bag that contained sunscreen, a hat, a seat cushion, and other paraphernalia. I had the plate for the 8 a.m. game. My partner and I had just finished discussing the ground rules with the two teams’ coaches when Angela, seated right behind home plate with about 300 other spectators, stood and displayed a large sign she had made for the occasion. It said, “I’m the umpire’s girlfriend. Please be nice to him and to me, too!”

There was a huge laugh and then a round of applause by the fans and the two teams of tween girls. I had no idea what was going on. One of the coaches pointed to where Angela was holding the sign and waving it in all directions! When I turned around and read it, I broke into laughter—not something I normally do when I umpire a ballgame. I try to take my officiating jobs seriously.

I heard a coach say, “That’s bloody brilliant! Nobody can possibly boo you now! I think she definitely deserves a kiss.”

“Absolutely!” I agreed. I signaled Angela to descend to field level where I embraced her and gave her a long smooch. Everyone went nuts—especially the little girls in their softball uniforms. Angela returned to her seat in the grandstand with a big smile on her face—and I never got a single complaint in any of the six games I worked! About a week later I found out that a photographer had snapped a picture of Angela holding her sign. It ran on the front page of the local community newspaper. I bought two glossy prints, one for me and one for Angela.

I worked the plate of the tournament final. The best team in the field deservedly won the trophy. I collected my pay and used a restroom to change into civilian clothes. I was still quite dusty and sweaty as there were no showers at this rural ballpark. Angela waved at me to meet her at the concession stand. One of the likable workers had a surplus of hot dogs and hamburgers that she had set aside as a reward for “Sign Girl and her umpire boyfriend”. That was our ritzy meal. There was no way I was going to any sort of decent restaurant when I desperately needed a long, cleansing shower. I explained the situation to Angela. She was very understanding about it.

“First,” she noted, “the food here is excellent, so I’m quite happy with this as our meal. Besides, the concession booth staff gave us these burgers and hot dogs as a sweet gift, so how can we not accept and enjoy them?” Angela paused for a moment and then sexily said. “Think about it, Jeff. We have the house to ourselves. By not going to a restaurant, we’ll get home quicker. You can have your shower…and then we can have our shower.”

“Sounds like a wonderful evening to me!” I responded. “Dad said we could even use the king-size bed in my parents’ bedroom. Imagine that!”

Angela surprised me by saying, “Jeff, I know all about it. I asked your father for permission to use that bedroom while they are at the cottage.”

Part Four

I don’t remember much about the half-hour drive home from the ballpark. Once Angela and I unlocked the front door, I really did need a shower, so I quickly disrobed in my bedroom and strode to the bathroom buck naked. It later occurred to me that I might have startled Angela with this brazen display of nudity, but she had gone into her room.

I turned on the cool shower and let the water cascade over me. I grabbed the bottle of Old Spice scented liquid soap and built up a lather. I could feel the layers of dust and perspiration peel off my body. It felt great. I was just about to grab a bottle of shampoo when I noticed the shower curtain slowly opening. I saw Angela, in her magnificent birthday suit, coming to join me. She immediately embraced me. Hey, that felt even better!

Normally after a hot Saturday afternoon at the ballpark, I am exhausted both mentally and physically. This time, however, I felt immediately rejuvenated. I don’t think the cool water nor my rugged-smelling body wash had anything to do with it. I had the most beautiful girl in the world embracing me in the close confines of a sexy, refreshing shower. Angela grabbed a wet sponge, added some of the liquid soap, and began gently scrubbing every inch of my body. The expected reaction occurred which surprised my shower buddy. I found out why.

“Jeff, I’m a virgin,” Angela informed me. “I’ve never been this close to a naked male in my life. Is that supposed to happen so quickly?” She was pointing at my erection. It couldn’t have been any harder.

“Under the circumstances, yeah!” I exclaimed.

Angela was absolutely gorgeous. This was the first time I’d seen her without her glasses. I also noticed that she had small feet, even for her diminutive stature. Angela’s tits were perfect—firm and perky. Her nipples became erect quickly as soon as I started to caress them. She had a hairy vagina which didn’t bother me at all. I told her I’d be as gentle as possible with her because I loved her--and I wanted to make love to her, not just have a fuck.

She gave me a puzzled look, so I felt I needed to elaborate. “Don’t get me wrong, I plan on fucking your brains out tonight, Angela, but I will do it as lovingly as possible. Myself, I’m not a virgin, Angela, but I’ve been celibate for three years, so you can’t blame me if I go a little bit wild. My god, you are beautiful!”

About two minutes later, when Angela began scrubbing my phallus, I came prematurely, shooting a long rope of jism that splashed solidly onto her breasts. That development startled her—and disappointed me.

“Sorry about that, my love. Honestly, I was hoping to last much longer than that. I have a hunch I’ll be hard again quite soon. In the meantime, let’s make the best of it. I think it’s my turn to wash you.”

Accordingly, I took charge of the soapy sponge and spent the next five or six minutes using it on Angela’s lovely private parts. She approved! When I descended to wash her bum and sexy legs, I complimented her on both. She attributed her athletic legs to racquetball and her butt to genetics. I could feel my erection return and suggested we move our lovemaking onto the king-size bed we had been kindly offered by my worldly father. Angela nodded. We dried each other off and scampered to my parents’ big, marvelous, bed.

“You don’t have to do a thing,” I told my sweetheart. “Just lie right in the center of the bed, be comfortable, and I’ll do all the work—if you can call this work!”

We embraced and began with long passionate kisses. I enjoyed kissing Angela from head to toe, especially on the certain areas that interested me most. Kisses turned into licking and sucking. I was pleased that I brought Angela to an orgasm merely with my tongue. “We ought to do this every night…forever!” Angela softly admitted. I took that as a great compliment.

“I suppose you know what comes next,” I said.

“Yeah, you…for the second time!” Angela quipped.

I stopped my exploration of Angela’s body to applaud her for her humor. Then I said, “Well, yes, but it follows the ‘fuck your brains out’ promise I made to you in the shower. Please spread your legs, Angela, and let me continue.”

I happily mounted Angela, my sexy little angel, and thrusted away, somewhat roughly, for four or five minutes. I was going to ask Angela if I was being too rough on her pussy, but the question became unnecessary when she told me to “keep doing that all night long.” That was plainly impossible. In fact, I could feel my second ejaculation approaching. I did the sensible thing and pulled out. Seconds later, I launched another sizable load of goo onto her heaving tits.

“Wow, this has been quite a first night for me, Jeff. Two cum shots from you onto my breasts! That’s very sexy, but just remember, when we get married and we’re trying to have children, that’s not where your sperm goes!”

It had been a long day for both of us—and we had reason to be exhausted. We fell asleep before 9 p.m. and slept soundly until 6 a.m. To make up for us not having a restaurant meal on Saturday, I took Angela to a breakfast buffet place that had recently opened where we enjoyed an expensive feast. Angela amused me by telling me all the new softball rules and terms she had learned on Saturday. “The infield fly rule is a bit of a mystery to me, though.”

“To you and 90 percent of the players and the coaches I encounter,” I added.

Then I said something completely off topic. "How about Labor Day 1989? I think that’s a fitting date, don’t you?"

“A fitting date for what?” a puzzled Angela asked me.

“For our wedding, of course. It will mark exactly four years since we met…and the beginning of many happy decades in the future.”

“Is this a serious marriage proposal, Jeff Maloney?” she asked.

“Yes, it is. You surprised me at the tournament yesterday with that lovable, goofy sign. Today I am surprising you. What do you say to my proposal, Miss Angela McIntyre?”

Angela said yes. We embraced. I stood and informed the other diners that this beautiful creature had agreed to be my wife in four years, once she finished school, and once I had secured a great job. The amused restaurant manager gave us a 50 percent discount as an early wedding gift.

By the middle of 1989, Angela had graduated college. She was quickly hired to manage a local preschool daycare operation. I still officiated sports and worked at clerical jobs, but I also wrote a weekly sports column giving an official’s point of view. It became a popular syndicated feature.

When Angela and I began considering various honeymoon locales, my father proffered an excellent suggestion. He said, “I don’t care where you go on your honeymoon, but you ought to spend your wedding night here, in this house, on the king-size bed.

“Why is that a good idea, Dad,” I asked him.

“My two children were conceived on that bed. They turned out great. I want my first grandchild conceived there, too!”