The Trophy Final

This story is intended to be read as a sequel to "The Find" published in Erotic Couplings on July 13th 2009 by the same author.

As requested in public comments I have tried to include more details. Hope you like it. Chapter 3 is in the planning stage but not written yet. Feedback or suggestions are welcome.

Chapter 2: The Trophy Final

I had just blown the final whistle. "Me mum wants to see you. Over there, Paul," said the St Mary's under 12s striker and pointed to the goal at the far end.

I had thought he seemed vaguely familiar when he ran back to the centre circle after I allowed his second goal. His use of my name clinched it. "Terry; Debbie's lad," I realised.

Debbie was a fond memory from last summer; a chance meeting after she left her purse in McDonalds and I took it round to her house. She was kind, feminine and uninhibited; just my type. But she had two kids, Terry and a toddler whose name escaped me and had hinted at a difficult past. So she had stayed a one night stand; until now.

Involuntarily I looked where Terry indicated. She waved and beckoned and I couldn't help trotting over. She was dressed for winter in jeans, an anorak and, typical Debbie, a fluffy pink woollen hat. It didn't look like she had planned this. She didn't know what to say and I guessed that Terry had put two and two together on his own initiative.

Debbie shivered. "Give me ten minutes to shower and change," I told her, "Then I'll run you home." She nodded and told Terry to get showered and changed as well.

When I came out of the referees hut she was waiting nervously rocking her toddler in a buggy. She sat in the back of the car with Chantelle. But I could see her in the rear view mirror. She took her hat off and shook out her chestnut hair. It was longer now but as rich and soft as I had remembered it under my strokes. She still wore glasses and had no make up on, her cheeks were rosy from the wind, and her full lips broke into a secret smile.

She had moved to a semi on a newer council estate. The furniture was still second hand and it was obviously a playground for kids but it was clean and feminine just like before. She sent Terry to his room to do his homework and put Chantelle down for a nap. Then she said, laughing "I'm going to take the shower you interrupted last time," as if to reassure me that the memory was happy for her too.

I half hoped she would ask me to join her but she didn't. Instead she left me alone in the living room. I couldn't help being nosy and realised that the photo of her ex, Terry's dad, which used to face the sofa had disappeared.

She came down fully dressed and got on with dinner. I realised that my growing desire would have to wait. She was focused on her family. She knew how to stretch a budget and produced a delicious dinner before we settled down to a cosy evening. Chantelle was into everything, I helped Terry with his maths and we watched soap operas on TV. It was all so domesticated that I began to think nothing was going to happen and we were just friends. But I enjoyed it. She was relaxed and it was a pleasant evening.

Eventually the kids had had enough and she put them to bed. She was a few minutes but it was worth the wait. She came back down in her nightie. It was a pretty floral print thing, very short with a cream lace hem and a neck line that barely covered her nipples. She put an old movie on and nestled down beside me, stroking my thigh gently with her long caressing fingers. I wrapped an arm round behind her back. She was slim enough that my fingers could reach the top of her thigh just below the frills of her negligee. She knew how to take care of herself. They had been recently waxed and her skin was smooth as silk. Underneath her muscles were toned and there was no fat on her at all. The contrast was exciting and I traced little patterns with my fingertips always ending in the valley between her legs. But they stayed together. She was tired, yawning after a hard day with the kids, and just wanted to cuddle; which was fine with me. I was tired too after the Cup Final had gone into extra time.

Debbie liked natural things. Her hair falling onto my shoulder was unadulterated with dye or gel and her long brown tresses smelt deliciously of peach shampoo. I played with little ringlets of it and felt her body grow limp as she relaxed totally. She took off her glasses and snuggled into me, eyes closed and a dreamy expression on her face. As her right shoulder tilted down under my arm her nightie strap failed in its duty. Her breast popped itself into my left hand.

She defined the expression "small is beautiful." She wasn't flat chested, just beautifully proportioned. Their size left room for an inch or so of gently contoured valley between the tops of her breasts which then subtly widened. The swellings themselves had plenty of colour and shone with health before turning up slightly into pointed, firm, pink tits. When cupped her breast felt firm and she eased it into the palm of my hand until it was comfortable with her nipple thrust between my second and third fingers. I curled my finger tips round the top of her orb and kneaded her very gently until she made a soft purring sound.

When the clock chimed midnight I realised that I had dozed off. So had she and she didn't wake. I whispered her name but still she didn't stir. I decided not to wake her. Gently I scooped her up into my arms and carried her to her bedroom. For a mother of two she was in amazing condition and easy to lift.

Her bedroom was like her private, woman space, with all kids clutter banished. The moonlight filtering through the chintzy curtains showed a patchwork quilt turned down on a single bed. I laid her on the bed gently. I wondered what she liked to sleep in. It was warm in the room and it occurred to me to take off her nightie. I knew she had no bra on but I wasn't sure about panties.

It's naughty I know but I thought, "A little peek won't hurt, surely." I gingerly eased the hem up her silky hips. A little triangle of sky blue lace was lying between her almost closed thighs. Tiny pink and yellow flowers lay just above her mound, and it was so tight that the valley of her cameltoe was showing. Paradise!

"I'm not asleep, Paul," she said. "I just wanted to see what you would do." I felt a right cad but she just smiled and said, "Don't worry I chose them for you." Then she sat up and invited me to continue taking off her nightie. I did, exquisitely slowly, kneeling in front of her and kissing every inch of her stomach and breasts as I lifted it. Finally she raised her arms straight above her head to help me.

The lift of her breasts was breathtaking and I just buried my face in their valley. She held me tightly and whispered, "I really am tired but just come in and hold me."

I undressed, still hopeful. But By the time I had stripped naked her eyes were closed and she was breathing evenly, eyelids fluttering as she began a dream. I slid in beside her and tucked my hand under her breast. Unconsciously she laid claim to me throwing her arm possessively across my chest. Like that we shared her single bed all night and I have never slept better.

As the sunlight slowly woke me I became aware of something lovely and soft and warm under my right hand. As awareness grew my brain attached meaning to sensations; soft cotton, an oval shaped bulge underneath, two walls of warm flesh rubbing against my finger and thumb, a valley the length of my middle finger, a mild scent a bit like sweet and sour sauce.

It all came together when I opened my eyes and realised that my hand was covering her panties, my palm on her mound and my fingers curled down between her legs. She was looking at me greedily and I realised that I had a huge stiffie.

"I've been watching you grow for half an hour, Paul," she said giggling. "Take them off. They're soaking".

They were and I did. She knelt over me as I guided my cock towards her passion place. She had perfect vulva, tucked inside her narrow slit until I spread her; beautifully proportioned, oval, pink, glistening with juice and with no hair to disguise their femininity. I lingered rubbing my foreskin on her protruding clit until it folded back and my tip found her opening. It was like receiving darts of electricity and I had to pull her down, thrust up my own pelvis and thrust deep inside. I wanted to cum but didn't want to cum yet. She knew it and made me slow down and caress every part of her as I throbbed away deep inside.

She was so lovely, leaning forward and teasing me with her waves of hair until I had to throw them back and suck her breasts like a baby. She seemed to know that this satisfied a deep, never articulated need in me and rocked backwards and forwards cradling my head as I pulled gently on her tits.

She couldn't take any more, eased her nipple out of my mouth and threw her body back until she was horizontal, arms downwards, hands flat on the bed, bracing herself. Her flexibility was incredible. I was looking at eye level along the length of her thighs, firm, slim and dribbling with cum into her pussy with my own cock inside it. The proof of my huge manhood, and the pressure of my cock thrusting upwards against the front wall of her vagina, drove me crazy. I fired on all cylinders. So did she; simultaneously shuddering convulsively as her orgasm rippled through her body.

We collapsed in a heap, spent, breathless and stunned by the power of what we had unleashed in each other. But half an hour later, only the kids needing breakfast stopped us going for a repeat.

But I knew I'd cum back for more. How did I know? After breakfast when I was about to leave Terry gave me his winners medal from the Cup Final yesterday. "You're a winner mister," he said in what he hoped was a man to man tone. "You make me mum happy. She'll take me to the United game this afternoon. You coming?"