Soccer Mom

 

I’m just your garden variety soccer mom. I attend PTA the second Friday of every month, I’m in charge of snacks for the team after the Saturday games and I took third prize at the county fair for my Mayberry pie – a white ribbon I proudly display on my refrigerator door. So I hope you’ll excuse me if I find it difficult to use all the words I find in the more erotic stories or fail to express all my feelings as freely as some of you can. But I just have to tell someone. If I hadn’t been fooling around with Jack’s computer while he’s away on business and happened upon this page, I’d have burst from keeping it to myself.

Before I met Jack I did not consider it promiscuous to spend an occasional night in bed with a man whom I liked; who pleased and entertained me and was as considerate of my physical needs as he was of his own. I enjoyed sex and although there were a couple of events I would pass up if I had the opportunity to live over, the only real regrets I have are for opportunities missed. When I moved in with Jack, we shared a philosophy that love, sex and marriage do not necessarily belong in one neat little sealed package and, in youthful zeal, soon developed an intimate friendship with another couple more or less to prove to ourselves that our personal relationship was more than just hormonal. So we got married and continued our affair with David and Millie. Later, when we finished with college and moved west, it was quite natural that we drifted into another pleasant sexual relationship.

Then for the first few years after we said goodbye to Phil and Irene, moved into town and got our own place, we were too busy getting a family started and Jack established in a career to give much thought to extra-curricular sex. Oh, we flirted a bit with social acquaintances, told risque stories and fielded a few approaches but I never got a definite urge for a strange piece.

Until recently that is. And then it was not for any particular male, just a vague discontent that the years are passing at an increasing rate and my cozy, safe little world is closing in on me. Everything is so perfect it’s driving me crazy. I began to notice others around me with the same pathetic happy smile I could feel on my own face. Blanche for instance.

Blanche is another soccer mom like me. Her Orville is on the same team as my Timmy and it was inevitable that we wind up sitting together at the Saturday games. Women with big busts are a magnet to me and Blanche has a pair that deserves a blue ribbon.

Now don’t get me wrong. My favorite for bed partner will always be male with that ridiculous equipment they bring with them but I’ve developed a mild complex about my own skimpy bosom which moves me to fortify my identity as a woman with the company of the more generously endowed. At least that’s what I was told by the shrink I went to after Jack flatly refused to let me get implants.

“I didn’t marry you for your tits.” He’d said, “And a couple of bags of silicone won’t make you a better lay than the fabulous one you are.”

I laughed and joked that as long as he kept that in mind I would keep the bod I have and he was entitled to a buxom mistress to take care of his minor fantasies – just don’t overdo it.

But I know from the way he occasionally works his chest against mine that sometimes his mind is on burrowing between a couple of juicy big ones so I admit that my offer was not entirely in jest. I wouldn’t want the big guy to miss out on anything just because I can’t supply it.

But about Blanche; within a month of first meeting we were closer friends than I am with any of my more immediate neighbors. I suppose it has something to do with our not being neighbors. I would never be so open with someone I see every day.

As we watched the kiddies run up and down the field, we both got around to unloading all our life secrets to each other. I told all about my affair in my junior year at college and she shocked me with tales of the wild goings-on at her school. We both bitched mildly about the monotony of the life of a suburban housewife.

I asked her if she missed the carefree times – the freedom, the excitement, the sex.

“Well,” She looked off into the distance, “Lars and I promised each other we’d get back into a more open lifestyle after Orville started school but he’s nine years old now and all our friends are as stuffy as we are. I almost got something going last year with our lawyer but he got so tedious about how his wife must never find out that I gave up on him before anything got started..

“He was a handsome stud though.” She sighed.

“Did hubby know about this?” I inquired.

“No. I probably would have told him if there had been anything to tell. He’s fair minded and owes me one. Maybe next time.”

“Next time?”

“I can dream can’t I?” She paused a moment and turned toward me. “Tell me, have you had any extramarital adventures lately – or thought about the feel of a strange cock stirring about in your insides?”

“No to the first question but I do plead guilty to the second. ” I confessed. “Some afternoons I just lie down and recall every one of those breathtaking firsts with a new lover and wonder if I will ever again experience that unique thrill. Not that I’m sex starved. Jack is as good in bed as any of my boy friends ever were – better even. It’s just that I can’t accept the possibility that I’ve reached the limit of who I can be.”

“You haven’t lost your confidence that you can bed just about any man you set your sights on?” Blanche inquired seriously.

“No.” I laughed. “And I must admit that I could consider doing that with the next man who stops to talk to me.”

“But you haven’t done it?”

“No. I tell myself I’ve been too busy but I think it’s just that no man has bothered to talk to me. I’m just a soccer mom – somebody else’s wife.”

We sat lost in thought for several minutes. “Yes, I hear what you’re saying.” Blanche broke the silence. “I feel that way at times too. Maybe we’re all longing to open up our lives and let friends happen but as women, ‘opening our lives’ implies opening our legs and everyone is raised to believe that married ladies just do not do that. Now I like being married; particularly I like being married to Lars. There is no one I would sooner be married to but I cringe at the thought of being a ‘married lady’. Wow, sometimes a strange man will smile at me on the street and I could just take him to bed, screw him silly and walk away without bothering to find out his name – just so I could register my existence as someone with someone.”

The devil must have prompted me. “I’ll have to introduce you to my Jack.” I looked directly at her generous bosom. “He’s a knock-over for a beautiful set of tits and those of yours would certainly register with him.”

Blanche laughed. “I forgot to mention; I’ve already met him – last week at the PTA meeting. You weren’t there and I just happened to find myself seated beside him. Good thing for you that Lars came by to pick me up; we were getting pretty chummy by the end of the evening.”

It was my turn to laugh. “‘Forgot to mention’? ‘Just happened’? He never mentioned it either. It might bolster your ego to know he came home from that meeting as horny as a goat. He got me to bed early and really gave me the royal treatment. I suppose I should thank you.”

Blanche grinned and turned her attention to the soccer game.

“And what type of man do you meet in your daydreams?” She asked when the final whistle blew.

“No particular type.” I welcomed the change in subject. “That golden haired referee would qualify though. Any man who can keep up running with those kids for a straight hour must have stamina.”

Blanche stood up and waved me to follow her. “Come on, I’ll introduce you. That’s Lars, my husband.”

Lars turned out to be not nearly as tall as he’d appeared out on a field full of nine-year-olds. He was only about three inches taller than I but his broad frame supported a good forty pounds more than my slender bones. Muscular forearms extending from his short sleeved jersey were covered with soft golden down right to the wrists. I caught myself wondering how much …

He took my offered hand and held it longer than necessary as he looked into my eyes. “I noticed you talking to Blanche and was hoping she would bring you over.”

“I’m Tim’s mother.” I stammered.

“Yes, – Tim.” He released my hand as my son came running up. He’s good – be a striker next year, eh Timmy?”

As he herded the youngsters over to where their gear bags were stacked, Blanche moved up beside me. “So what now? Do we call Jack and all go out for dinner or do we just plan a weekend in Vegas?”

I shook my head. “Let’s not rush things. I was sort of looking forward to a seduction. Let’s keep it secret from Jack that we even know each other; at least until he’s had those beautiful hooters of yours all to himself at least once.”

Blanche placed her hand lightly on mine. “I do believe you’re more interested in pleasing that man of yours than yourself. That’s OK but you give your best to Lars too or I’ll not forgive you.”

Our next few meetings were devoted to conspiracy so it was not completely coincidence that I dropped into Shari’s on Wednesday just when Lars was alone at the front of the line. It was pure fate, however, that I arrived just as the hostess announced ‘table for two?’. Lars was about to step back to let the couple behind him take it when I trotted up and took his elbow. “Sorry I’m late.” I panted.

After we were seated, he grinned at me. “Have you been stalking me?”

“Please, leave me a little pride.” I countered with a big smile. “Let’s just say I’m quick to take advantage of unexpected opportunities. I saved myself a twenty minute wait.”

“That was quick thinking.” Lars admitted. “But I prefer my theory.- I do like your attitude on unexpected opportunities though.” He added innocently.

I sat back and gave him my Mona Lisa smile.

Our luncheon conversation was mostly small talk but after splitting the bill, we left the restaurant with an unspoken understanding that we were destined to become much better acquainted.

The following day I went again to Shari’s. It was more a yearning wish than an expectation that he would be there – but he was; parked near the entrance. He opened the car door to get my attention so I walked around to the passenger side and got in. Without a word he started the car and drove directly to the Idylwild motel.

No time was wasted on false modesty. I undid the buttons of his shirt as he eased my skirt over my hips. My blouse joined his shirt on the floor and I stood back to marvel at the riot of tight golden curls covering his chest. My attention moved down to a thicker forest extending up toward his belly and the formidable rigid form extruding through it. Even more impressive was the large bag hanging down from the base of the sturdy erection. I was reminded of my grandfather’s bull.

So much for foreplay. He lifted me up and carried me to the bed where I gleefully separated my thighs to accept him.

What a glorious sense of freedom came over me as I welcomed the invasion of my inner self. I am not shackled to convention – I am my own person.

Eagerly I met each thrust with a counter; sometimes challenging, sometimes evading. With full abandon I rejoiced in being a woman – a woman with a man. I laughed with pleasure.

I did not strive for orgasm but it came suddenly, unexpectedly; not the sweet flowing expression of deep hunger satisfied that Jack brings me to but an unaccustomed series of short pulsing contractions that shook my whole being. A look of surprise appeared on Lars’ face as his body reflexively responded with its own explosive release.

Collapsing beside me, he leaned over and kissed my belly as his hand slid up the inside of my thigh. “Whew!” He panted. “I’d almost forgotten how much pure fun there is in a little friendly sex.”

I laid a hand over his and pressed it against me. “Well, that’s here now to remind you if you ever get forgetful again.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He raised his head and ran his tongue around each of my nipples in turn.

“Not the mouthful you’re accustomed to.” I said ruefully.

“The beauty is in the difference.” He responded. “If all women were identical, men would die of frustration. You and Blanche complement each other. That’s what make such lucky dogs of me and your husband.”

I tensed with surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Oh come now.” He chided. “I wouldn’t be here now if I wasn’t reasonably sure of the game you two are playing. I’ve watched you chatting it up every Saturday afternoon and afterward Blanche always comes home in heat so I assume you’re not just trading pancake recipes.”

I actually giggled.

“And neither of you is the type to outright cheat.” He continued. “So I imagine things are set to all even out.”

“Well smarty, your analysis is pretty darn accurate so just consider me a gift from Blanche.” I quipped. “I just didn’t expect to be unwrapped so quickly.”

“And the tits are your gift to your man.” He smirked.

“You’ve been talking to Jack?”

“I have never met Jack – that’s the first time I’ve heard his name – but I’ve been lusting after you and building a fantasy situation which has just turned out to be reality.”

“As long as you remember today was planned by me and Blanche, not you, you’re excused. Just don’t get upset when you find out Blanche has been entertaining a stranger too.”

“That’s fair enough.” He agreed.

We lay quietly for a while, just softly smooching.

“We really were planning a more extended campaign.” I broke the silence. “- savoring the anticipation, flirting and teasing you with coy suggestions but things happened faster than I expected.”

“You might have chickened out if I hadn’t rushed it.”

“That’s a possibility but now I have to build a fire under Blanche without letting on I’ve already sampled her husband.”

“OK,” He chuckled, “I’ll leave it to you to decide when and if to inform her.”

“I think I’ll wait and let her believe she scored first.” I moved my hand onto his limp member.

Lars was definitely responding. I could no longer close my fingers around him.

For the second time that afternoon, we coupled, as the saying goes, and again that night I made real love with Jack, enjoying it the more for knowing that it was my choice to do so, that it was neither my duty nor my only option. I belong completely to no one but myself so I give completely.

The next day, Friday, I spent the afternoon on the phone with Blanche.

“Now don’t you go wearing yourself out tonight.” I concluded. “I want you to be in top form tomorrow.”

Jack made an attempt at romance that evening but I pleaded fatigue – something I rarely do.

In the morning I told him that I had promised Timmy I would take him and his friend to a movie after the soccer game and that the boy’s mother would be by later to pick him up.

“Be sure you’re here because she may come early. The movie was an afterthought and I haven’t been able to get in touch with her to tell her we’ll be late. We should be home by six.”

After the game, Lars and I took the two boys to The Lion King and sat in the row behind them. We held hands and shared thoughts of Thursday afternoon. In the dark of the theater I sneaked a kiss to his cheek.

“You’ll have me leaving here with a big damp spot on the front of my pants.” He whispered.

“Then behave yourself.” I whispered back and stuck my tongue in his ear.

After the show, I told Lars that I would take Orville with me as Blanche was coming by our place to pick him up.

“She knew I was refereeing today. I could have brought him home.”

I didn’t say anything.

He looked at me for a moment.

“Oh.”

When I got home, Jack and Blanche were seated in the patio with a pitcher of martinis and an extra glass for me.

Jack kissed me hello and nonchalantly turned to pour my drink but Blanche slipped me a sly wink and pressed her knees together most suggestively.

Jack was rather quiet throughout dinner but after we put Timmy to bed, he sat down on the sofa beside me. “Honey, I have a slight confession.”

“Really?” I snorted. “The man spends the afternoon rolling on the most gorgeous bosom this side of the Mississippi and he has a ‘slight confession’ to make. Honey, she didn’t tell you? Those beautiful hooters were my Christmas present to you. I thought you’d prefer them to a new set of golf clubs.”

“That’s right. I already have a perfectly good set of clubs.” He pulled me to him and gave me a big juicy kiss. “You’re a very thoughtful wife.”

He thought a moment and then added, “I imagine Blanche is also a very thoughtful wife.”