tagGroup SexTaking Two For The Team

Taking Two For The Team

bygentlemom©

I'm a single mother now, so I find myself doing many of the things that Canadian fathers are required to do as a part of their cultural heritage. For example, I never miss any of my daughter's hockey games. The blowing snows and icestorms which are at least an occasional fact of Canadian winters have never kept me away from the local arenas on those nights when Diana puts on the goalie's gear for the industrial league team she plays for. The league of 20-something amateurs had only recently started to allow women to play on the previously all-male teams, and Diana was among the first to be signed up.

I love hearing the roar of approval from some of the fans, and the cries of frustration and disapointment from some others, following one of Diana's more spectacular saves. As soon as the referees whistled for a stoppage in play, she would tilt her motorcycle-style facemask helmet up and back to grab a quick drink from her waterbottle. She'd shake out her long blonde hair, turn her glistening red lips into a big grin for her teammates, and then go back to the no-nonsense business of the game. Her goalie pads and baggy uniform totally concealed the curves of her very sexy young figure, but every man in the crowd mentally undressed her in those brief moments when her femininity and wholesome sexuality were so openly displayed.

And I'm her proud mom. My name is Leda. Ancient mythology has been the source for my family's choice of girls' names for at least three generations. My mother got stuck with Phoebe, and my sister is Ariadne. I'm better off with Leda, because most people can spell it right on the very first try.

It was at one of those moments of maternal pride, when I was on my feet wildly applauding my daughter's efforts, that I became aware that a man seated perhaps twenty feet away and a few rows ahead of me was looking back at me rather than at the game. He didn't look familiar, and I'm sure I would have noticed a good-looking hunk like him if he'd been a regular attendee of these games. From his age I guessed that he too was a parent of one of the players. He didn't look threatening, and I found myself locked in eye contact with him out of sheer curiosity about the fact that I'd caught him staring at me. He looked at me steadily, with a smile that unashamedly said that he wanted to get to know me better. This was fine with me, because he looked liked the kind of man I'd want to want to get to know me better. I smiled back at him, wondering for an instant if I looked as foolish as I felt by doing so.

Neither of us was paying much attention to the game now. Neither of us made an effort to move closer to the other, but then there were no empty seats next to either of us. I wondered what would happen next, to break this strange spell of mutual silent fascination.

He reached into his jacket pocket and produced something which he held up for me to see. His cellphone. He gave me a questioning raised-eyebrow look as if to ask if I was similarly equipped. I was, so I took my phone from my purse and held it up for him to see. He grinned at my understanding of his actions, and I found myself pleased at being such a fast learner. He held up two fingers, and then made the motion of pressing a key on his phone. And then he held up seven fingers, which required him to put down the phone for a moment, before repeating the motion of pressing a key on his phone.

I got it. I opened up my phone and pressed 2 and then 7, exaggerating my movements so that he could see the two steps. This got a huge grin from him, and I nearly laughed at the juvenile delight I was getting from it all. More finger signs from him, more numbers to be keyed into my phone, and suddenly we were in contact with each other. He sat back in his seat, facing the ice surface and no longer facing me, and we talked calmly on the phone as the pandemonium of typical hockey crowd behavior went on all around us.

We introduced ourselves. His name was Keith, and he was also unattached. He was indeed the father of Ian, one of Diana's teammates but a young man I barely know. Ian is a tall and solidly built defenseman with a wicked slapshot from the point. Keith's job schedule makes it difficult for him to attend many of Ian's games, and it was a rare treat for him to be able to be there on that evening. Keith had already guessed that I was there for Diana, either from some family resemblance he saw between us or by the fact that I'm clearly my daughter's most vocal cheerleader.

We flirted with each other, which seemed entirely appropriate given the quirkily romantic circumstances of our first contact. He told me that it was obvious where Diana got her good looks from. I told him that if he had passed on the genes which produced Ian's athletic and powerful build I wouldn't mind a closer look at their source. Or at least words to that effect. Soon we were exchanging sexually arousing remarks of the kind which flow freely in adult chatrooms on the Net. Keith asked for, and got, my body's measurements and details of how I treat my pubic hair. I got his cock length and thickness, and general information about his overall body hair. We were within sight of each other, although we both looked straight ahead and pretended to be watching the game. We were no longer anonymous strangers, exactly, but we'd just met and we weren't looking at each other, so our conversation had the feel of some hot phone sex I'd had with strangers in the past.

Oddly we chose to arouse each other by talking about what we'd do if we were in a sexually charged situation with the other and with his/her son/daughter present. In other words, Keith told me what he'd like to do sexually with me and Diana, and I told him what I'd like to have him and Ian do with me. It was surreal. While people around us shouted encouragement to their team's players, screamed abuse at the opposition, booed or applauded the referees' decisions, and at times came close to resorting to the kind of ritualized fighting that happens occasionally on the ice, Keith and I discussed our favorite positions for fucking and described our preferred techniques for cocksucking and pussylicking. We openly admitted to being wildly turned on. Both of us had a hand hidden under our coats and were touching ourselves as we talked. We agreed that if the situation wasn't so restrictive we'd be all over each other in a minute.

The game's second period ended, and the crowd rose to look after their varied needs. Some headed for the refreshment stands, others for the washrooms, and others went outside for a smoke. I lost sight of Keith, but he was still on the phone with me. He said, "I'm going to be at Entrance No. 2 in two minutes, Leda. I hope you'll meet me there." It took me all of five seconds to decide to find Entrance No. 2 in a hurry.

Once there, Keith took my arm and guided me outside. We exhaled slowly as we walked quickly past a gathering cloud of cigarette smoke with some raw coughs coming from somewhere within it. Keith led me out into the parking lot. He found Ian's van and helped me into the back of it. The flooring was carpeted, the walls attractively padded, and when Keith switched on some sort of infrared heater thing I had a fleeting realization that the van seemed unusually well fitted out for sexual romps. It was no hotel room, of course, but it gave me the same impression that a hotel room does - this is a place where sex is meant to happen.

Keith took me in his strong arms. I moulded my body to his to signal my eagerness for whatever he had in mind, and our mouths tried to devour each other as our clothes started to come off. I bumped my head on the van's roof only once in the process.

Keith made love to me skillfully but with a minimum of verbal exchanges. I was thankful that he was not one of those men whose fetish is the sound of his own voice mouthing his favorite dirty words. You ladies know the type. For some men breasts need to be labelled, aloud. They can be knockers, bazoongas, rack, hooters, D-lights, jugs, and so on. The terms boobs and tits are considered too mild, and therefore hardly count. Vaginas must be referred to as, for example, honeypots, cumbuckets or, if the word can be spoken with sufficient ugliness to make it suitably filthy, cunts. Again, the term pussy doesn't count. Some men simply cannot fondle a breast without announcing, to themselves as much as to their partner, how Warm and Beautiful and Soft and Firm and Elegantly Proportioned and Fragrant and Suckable it is. And Cushiony. I can't forget Cushiony, despite my best efforts to do so. And Big, if the guy thinks he can safely throw that out there without offending the gal by erring on whichever side of the size issue she'd prefer not to be on.

Keith told me all that I wanted to hear using only his silent lips and his gentle hands.

We fucked as if we'd been starved for sex and were afraid that the next meal might not come for some time. I didn't know about Keith, but for me that was a real possibility. I gave it everything I had, and I took from it everything I wanted. It was very good sex. I felt that this sort of promiscuously casual carnality, totally out of character for me, was perfectly justifiable under the circumstances. I wondered why none of my previous evenings at the county's arenas had had such delightful consequences.

We got back to our seats late in the third and final period of the game. The other team had scored one goal in our absence. I hoped that it hadn't been Diana's fault. It would have been hard for me to tell her later how the goal had looked from my vantage point, considering that from where I was at the time all I could see in the near-darkness were Keith's rugged features and the roof liner of his son's van. And the roof wasn't all that interesting, except for the single head-bump it had given me.

After the game Keith and I waited for the kids outside their dressing rooms in a cluster of parents and friends. Keith invited Diana and me to join him and Ian for pizza and beer before calling it a night, and I was delighted that Diana was as onside for that as I was. Diana and Ian knew each other well, of course. Keith told them that he and I had just become acquainted, displaying what I saw as an impressive gift for understatement.

* * * * *

Once we were seated in the cheerfully tacky pizza joint the flirting went on, but this time in a more open free-for-all fashion. The men proved to be both charming and confident in their interactions with Diana and me, and they made no effort to conceal their bawdy interest in both of us. I'd had a lot of experience in this sort of adult discourse, although my skills in it were perhaps a bit rusty, but Diana surprised me by parrying their verbal thrusts with some very cool teasing banter of her own. Where did she learn this stuff?

I think I'm a reasonably intelligent woman. Why do I ask myself such dumb questions?

I found myself yielding happily to the pressure. When Keith's and Ian's hands took turns casually brushing the thighs of my slacks under the table - always while their faces and conversation were directed at my daughter - I made no effort to discourage them. And when the two men were deeply engaged in chat with me, I knew they must be giving similar attention to Diana's shapely legs in her tight jeans. I got quite used to talking with one of the men while the other touched my lower body. This was really fun. After the first pitcher of beer, my hands were doing quite a lot of wandering on their own. Keith had earlier proved himself to be man enough to fully satisfy me, but Ian's package seemed physically capable of satisfying any woman alive.

When we said our goodbyes outside the restaurant, and the men gave Diana and me hugs and brief but meaningful kisses, my mind was made up. For one thing, I intended to spend as many hot hours playing with Keith's lovely cock as I could arrange. I could still see his phone number clearly in my mind's eye, just as it had been mimed by him across several rows of arena seating, and with luck I'd get to sample that impressive weapon his adorable son kept hidden in his pants as well.

What I didn't know, but perhaps should have guessed, was that all four of us saw our budding friendships in a more or less similar way. I was soon to learn a few intriguing and arousing things about those friendships. The fact that Diana was moving at about the same pace as I was, having had a lengthy fuck session with Ian in the back of his van after a team practice, was one such revelation.

I was also to learn that Ian was working his way through the daughter up to the mother, and was already eager to introduce his manhood to my more maternal pussy. Keith knew all about his son's plans, and was working his way through the mother down to the daughter. Diana hoped to sample the older mature male member of the foursome as soon as possible. It wasn't a competition, exactly, but we had all independently set specific sexual goals for ourselves. And among those of us in the hockey community, goals are important.

A sort of fucknet was forming, if only in our minds. Mutual lust and the lure of the yet-unattained were driving all of us. And luckily, Ian had just the vehicle for it.

* * * * *

I decided that the best way to get to Ian was to meet him when Keith wasn't around. Our team's next home game gave me that opportunity, as Keith wasn't able to be there, but how could I get into the back of Ian's van - and get Ian into me - without Diana knowing about it? I needn't have worried. As things turned out, Diana was the one who made it happen.

After the game Diana, Ian, and I were saying our goodnights out in the parking lot where I had deliberately parked my car right next to Ian's van. This had required me to move my car once between periods in the game, but hey, I wanted to be closer to the dressing room door anyway. One does what one has to do.

Ian gave Diana a gentle but lingering goodnight kiss and then, before I knew what was happening, turned to me and gave me one too. I was caught totally by surprise by this, but Diana just smiled as if she had expected Ian to do just that.

Ian opened his van door, preparing to leave, and when the van's interior overhead light came on Diana suggested that I might like to get a better look at the inside of his nicely appointed wheels. Ian smiled his approval of Diana's suggestion, and opened the sliding door to the van's rear section. He invited me to step inside and have a good look around. I did so, assisted by Ian's strong hands guiding and steadying my hips and, somewhat unnecessarily, my bottom. I found a comfortable place to sit and look around. I pretended that I'd never been there before, although I suspected that Ian knew better. Ian and Diana came into the van right behind me, pulling the door closed behind them, and the overhead light went out. We weren't crammed in there uncomfortably, but there wasn't much room for movement without brushing someone else's body parts. I felt certain of my body parts being so brushed immediately.

As soon as we were seated more or less comfortably, I was drawn into Ian's arms for another, and much more seriously passionate, kiss. I suffered a moment of concern about what Diana might think of this, but she put my mind at ease by joining in our embrace and forcing Ian to divide his kisses equally between the two of us.

Once again I was aware of the aura of sensuality and sex emanated by the rear part of Ian's van. If this was an optional feature available on this model, I thought that it might prove to be a very popular one.

Ian's hands moved gracefully over my body, and I assume over Diana's body too, in a very experienced manner that brought me the greatest amount of arousal in the shortest possible time. Buttons and zippers and hooks were unfastened, and Ian's mouth moved to take one of my nipples firmly between his lips. When I reached down between his legs to free his cock from the confines of his jeans, I found my path blocked by my daughter's hands, which were already doing the stroke-and-squeeze thing on that lovely prick. I found a place not yet occupied on Ian's cockshaft, and I seemed to have his ball sac all to myself, so I joined her in our manual ministrations.

Even though I now knew exactly where all this was taking us, there were more suprises in store. Ian's hands seemed to be everywhere at once - fondling my breasts, tracing small circles over my belly, moving in broader circles over my hips and upper thighs, moving between my legs to cup my pussy mound, and reaching between my legs to poke a finger against my anus ring and to dig fingers into the flesh of my buttocks. I don't know why it took me so long, but it took me almost a full minute to realize that one or two of those hands couldn't possibly be Ian's. I got a naughty thrill from the thought that my daughter was joining with Ian in pleasuring me. When I felt a pair of soft warm lips press against my cheek and then move to cover my mouth, lips that I knew couldn't be Ian's because his tongue was at that moment flicking into my navel on its way further south, I returned Diana's kiss with an eagerness that matched hers. I felt my panties being slid from my hips, and down, and off.

Ian was doing his best to keep both Diana and me occupied, but it was clear that it was me he wanted to fuck first. Maybe he was afraid that I might chicken out and put a sudden halt to all this. That just wasn't going to happen. I imagined that my pussy lips were licking each other, the way my other lips do when I feel that nourishment is at hand, and there was no way that Ian was going to escape the clutches of either set.

And then Ian was poised above me, holding my legs up over his broad shoulders. I felt fingers which must have been Diana's guiding him to my pussy, and he entered me smoothly and quickly. It was a beautifully paced fuck, and I think I came twice before Diana eased Ian off of me and mounted him herself. For awhile I positioned my face where the action was, and let my tongue play over both of the others' joined parts as they moved together. Then Diana pulled my head upward and to her breasts, which were bouncing freely over Ian's chest. I seized one and held it still so that I could suck and nibble on its nipple. Diana screamed. I was horrified to think that I might have hurt her, but I needn't have worried. I'd just never witnessed my daughter in the throes of orgasm before.

We rested for a short while, and then I sucked Ian's cock. When he came, I held it like a hose and made sure that the spurts of his cum reached Diana's breasts and my own. I hoped that Ian knew good ways to clean the carpeted floor and cushioned walls of his van. It seemed impossible for anyone to spend time in the back of Ian's van without having sex.

* * * * *

Three evenings later I was driving past the arena parking lot and noticed that Ian's van was parked there. His team didn't have a game that night, and Diana hadn't mentioned anything about a team practice. There weren't as many cars in the lot as the hockey games usually drew, but obviously something else had brought a modest crowd to the arena. And then I spotted Diana's car in the lot too, so I just had to stop and see what was going on inside. I immediately saw that it wasn't a hockey game at all, but rather a figure skating practice session for members of the local skating club. I wondered for a moment what possible interest this could hold for Ian or Diana. I realized that the answer was 'none at all' when I looked carefully around the seating area and saw no sign of either of them. It wasn't the figure skating that they were here to see. They were here to see each other, and they didn't need the arena - just its parking lot. Well, maybe I could make good use of the lot too.

I stolled out to Ian's van. Its deeply tinted windows made it impossible for me to see inside, although the occupants might have been able to see me standing there, in the eerie glow of the parking lot lighting, if they bothered to look out. My guess was that they were too busy to bother worrying about their privacy. I couldn't hear any sounds from inside, but the gentle rhythmic rocking of the van told me all that I needed to know about what was going on in there.

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