East Bay Drive

Heather got to her feet and leaned over Jasmine. "Feel better?"

It took Jasmine a moment to catch her breath. "Yes... a lot... you're good at that..."

"Every woman should know how to eat a pussy," Heather murmured, tilting Jasmine's head up to steal another kiss.

"I'm not that good," Jasmine said. "Do you want me to?"

"I'll be fine," Heather purred in her ear. "Don't worry about it. Just wait a few minutes after I leave before you head out, that way nobody talks." She pecked Jasmine on the cheek. "Good luck this semester."

Before the younger woman could say anything, Heather spun on her heel and left the stall, careful not to open it too wide in case anyone happened to glance in their direction to see a twenty-something woman spread-legged on the counter. That would certainly be difficult to explain to the management... even the ones that Heather had slept with.

She felt no real guilt about it. Her relationship with her husband had always been semi-open, with a revolving door of kinky playmates going in and out of their bedroom. Technically they weren't supposed to fool around with thirds without the other, but she knew that he'd done so in the past, and likely still was.

Still, it had been a little too easy to get Jasmine up on the counter with her pants down. Was the younger woman desperate, or just easy? Or was Heather still desirable at her age? And if she was, why was...

The elevator doors shutting jolted her out of her line of thought. Don't think about him. You did a good thing for a needy woman. There's no shame in that.

She'd keep telling herself that into the night, even after Marquis came back and almost immediately went to bed in preparation for an early morning. Heather, on the other hand, lay awake staring at the ceiling, and only fell asleep when it was well past when she was hoping to.

Saturday

The click of the bathroom door and the soft padding of feet woke Heather gently. She turned over, throwing her arm over her face and peering out from underneath it.

Marquis strode by wearing nothing but a towel, holding it by his waist. Heather's eyes widened as she took in the broad expanses of his shoulders and the muscles popping out of his toned back. He cursed under his breath as he rummaged in his bag for something, and pulled out a pair of pants a moment later. He turned and padded back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Heather blinked a few times, then made a low growl and tucked her head back under her arm.

She feigned sleep until Marquis came back out of the bathroom, tossing the towel on his bed. She rolled over. "Morning," she slurred.

"Morning, ma'am," Marquis said quietly. "You coming with us today?"

"Nah, this is you guys' thing," Heather murmured, sitting up a little. She was wearing one of her sporty tank tops, no bra, and one of the straps slipped down her bicep to the crook of her elbow, the fabric falling away from her breast a little. "I'll stay here and root for you in spirit."

"Read: with a martini in hand on the beach working on your tan, right?" Marquis snickered.

"I'm more of a pina colada woman," Heather said. "But you're mostly right."

"Pretty sure Coach wouldn't be focused with you around, either," Marquis said.

Heather tilted her head. The shoulder strap on her tank slid a little lower. "And by that you mean?"

Marquis coughed once. "He seems to want to impress you a lot. Wouldn't be a hundred percent focused on the game."

Sure, that's what it is. "Isn't this just an exhibition game? A practice?"

"Coach wants us to think of it as an actual season game so we don't take it easy." Marquis stuffed a towel and an energy bar from his duffel bag into a smaller drawstring bag. "I don't think any of the guys are going to have a problem with that, but you know. Need him to be focused too." He paused, then looked over at her. "This is sounding really bad, isn't it?"

Heather laughed and flopped back onto the pillows. "I get what you mean. Good luck today."

"Thanks." Marquis shouldered the drawstring bag and made for the door, then stopped and turned. "Tell you what. Wanna split that thing that I totally don't have in my bag later when we win?"

She closed her eyes. "I might not be opposed to that. But only if you win."

"I'll hold you to that, Coach Jefferson."

"Just call me Heather, Marquis." She cracked open an eye. "We're friends enough."

An expression she couldn't read flickered across Marquis' face for a moment, but then he nodded. "Heather, then. See you this evening, ma'am." With that, he pushed down on the handle and left the room, the door clicking shut heavily behind him.

She rolled over and slept for another few hours, rolling out of bed at around ten in the morning. It took her a few moments to dig her phone out of her jeans pocket from where she'd left it. An unheard message blinked on the screen - from her husband. Automatically her hand moved to listen to it, but she hesitated at the last possible moment, then turned off the screen and jammed the phone back into her pants.

Fifteen minutes later, she stood in the elevator again, dressed for the beach in a black two-piece bikini, wide-brimmed hat, and sunglasses, sandals on her feet and a plush hotel towel under her arm. She hadn't been kidding about the tan.

The beach was crowded for a late summer Saturday, a melange of families, kids from local community colleges, and retirees getting their monthly allotment of Vitamin D in one short afternoon on the sands. Everyone jockeyed for space, blankets butting up against one another. Heather's advantage was that she was all alone and didn't need much space, and she found a comfortable spot a ways back from the throng of people to spread her towel out.

She decided to do her front first, lying down on her back and crossing her legs, letting all the pressures weighing down on her fade away. There was only the sound of the surf, the chatter of people, the laughter of kids. But yet, no matter how much she tried to let herself zen out, the sounds only served to dredge up thoughts and memories. The ocean made her think of what she'd gotten up to on this property. The chatter made her miss the casual conversations she used to be able to have with her husband. The children made her wonder what her son was up to in college, and then that made her wonder how the boys would do in their game today.

It was just as she was starting to get comfortable and clear her mind that she heard footsteps approach her, and then a tentative voice spoke up. "Um, excuse me, miss?"

It wasn't anyone she recognized. Heather lifted her head, tilted her hat up and nudged her sunglasses down her nose a little. Looking down at her was a young, fair-skinned man, no older than his early twenties. He had a lanky form, almost gaunt, with short, curly brown hair framing glasses with square frames.

Heather blinked up at him. "What can I do for you?"

The young man blinked and looked over his shoulder. Heather followed his gaze to a mixed bag of college students sitting on a blanket not far from them, several frat boy types with their airbrushed girlfriends. They all quickly looked away, and she saw them struggling to contain laughter. Heather looked back up the one in front of her and raised an eyebrow.

He fidgeted. "My friends over there wanted me... to ask you... oh, man..." He looked like he wanted to stop, but Heather said nothing, forcing him to finish. "Would you mind if I... bought you a drink?"

Heather looked past him again to see the frat couples trying not to bust a gut. What was this, high school? She looked back up at the young man, then stopped.

Whether it was from nerves or the fact that he was talking to an attractive woman, the poor thing was hard, his erection clearly outlined on the inside of his swimming trunks. And it was an impressive outline. Heather suppressed the urge to lick her lips.

"I'm not in the mood for a drink right now," she said. "But I wouldn't mind a snack, if you're feeling up to it."

That clearly hadn't been the answer he'd expected. The blush that crept across his face had nothing to do with the summer heat. He looked back at his "friends," then back to her. "I... sure! What kind?"

You shouldn't do this. You already lapsed once, are you really going to do it again?

Heather got up and shook the sand off her towel before rolling it up. She tucked it under her arm. "Follow me," she purred.

The young man followed her like a doting puppy off the beach. "What's your name?" she asked him.

"Simon," he answered.

"Tell me, Simon... those aren't really your friends, are they?"

Slowly, he shook his head. "Not really. We just happen to go to the same college around here."

She turned her head. "Do you just let them push you around like that?"

Simon lowered his gaze. "I know I shouldn't. But I just thought maybe, not matter what happens, they might respect me, even if you turned me down."

"Well, your confidence to do that is admirable." Heather stopped by the changing rooms. "Howsabout I give you a little more?"

Simon blinked. "What are you talking abou-"

WIth a quick back and forth glance to make sure nobody was watching, Heather yanked Simon into the changing room and quickly shut the door behind them, locking it with a flick of her wrist. It was a simple ten by ten room, with a long wooden bench to lay one's clothes, a showerhead to rinse, and gaps near where the walls met the roof to allow for some, but not much, airflow.

"What are you...?" Simon stammered.

Heather put a finger to his lips. "Shhhh." Slowly, she reached up behind her and undid the knot on her bikini top, letting the stringy garment fall to the slick, wet floor. Simon went bug-eyed as her breasts gently flopped free, round, maternal, and utterly mesmerizing. "What do you say to me being the snack?" she murmured.

"I... you... wha... this can't be..." Simon seemed to be going in two different directions, his mind wanting to retreat from flight instinct and his body answering the siren song of the bare, sweat-slick tits in front of him. He gave himself a light slap on the cheek. "I'm dreaming. I have to be."

"If you are," Heather said, hooking fingers into the waistband of his swim trunks and drawing him into the curve of her body. "Do you really want it to end?"

Simon had recoiled a little to keep his head out of the valley between her tits. She felt the tent in his trunks against her bikini bottoms, the tip of his cock jabbing into her mons as if to say "here, here!" His hands were tense as they settled against her sides. "N-no..." he panted.

"Then give those boys something to be jealous about," she purred. "Those girls don't know how to treat a man yet. But I..." She reached down and fondled his cock and balls gently. "Am somewhat of an expert in that area."

Poor Simon's glasses had fogged up from the hot, wet air in the changing room, and Heather gently took them off and set them on the bench next to her towel before she kissed him deeply. He let out a ragged, gasping pant against her mouth, and then came alive, his hands crossing on the small of her back and hugging her to him almost painfully tight, as if now that he was cognizant of what was happening he wanted to never let go of her and miss this chance. Not that Heather was going to bail on him right in the middle of the act.

Especially with a cock like the one he was packing. She got his trunks unlaced and tugged them down his thighs, allowing that thick member to spring free. "Goodness," she murmured, curling her fingers around the thick shaft and stroking towards herself. "I'm surprised the girls aren't just throwing themselves at you if this is what's waiting for them."

Simon didn't answer. He was too busy sucking on one of her nipples eagerly, his tongue flicking against the swollen bud. Heather leaned her chest into his face, smushing her other tit against his cheek as she dropped his trunks lower, her fingers curling underneath his sac to cup his balls gently. "Let me suck your cock, Simon."

He drew back from his suckling, panting and already sweating a little from the heat of the room. "O-okay."

Heather spread her towel on the hard floor as Simon sat down on the bench and wriggled out of his swim trunks, kicking them to crumple in the corner. He spread his legs for her, looking a little embarrassed as she knelt down between them. That feeling quickly turned to delight as Heather planted a tender kiss on the tip of his cock, her tongue flitting across his glans and circling the head. He tasted sweaty and salty, musky and male, and she revelled in it. "Delicious," she hummed, before sliding her lips down that thick shaft.

Simon's leg kicked out at the shock of pleasure from her lips hugging the sensitive sides of his cock. "Ah!"

Heather put her elbows on his knees to hold him in place as she worked, taking that delicious length all the way in until her lips were around the root of his dick and her mouth was full of delicious male musk and hot flesh. Slowly, she lifted her mouth up, making sure her lips were tight so that she could drive him wild as she slowly, carefully-

Simon jerked, his cock spasmed, and all of a sudden warmth spurted in her mouth, catching Heather off guard and making her swallow hastily. Simon's orgasm was explosive and quick, half a dozen rapid bursts of cum that she sucked greedily from his cock before letting him go to catch her breath. "Ooof! Should've warned me you were about to pop, hon."

Simon clapped his hands over his face. "I'm sorry!"

Heather laughed, wiping a dollop of cum off her lower lip with her thumb. "Don't worry. Was that your first time?"

Simon swallowed. "Not that didn't involve my hand."

She smiled up at him. "Was it good for you?"

"Y-yeah!" He blinked. "Did I do something wrong?"

Why did I ask that? "Nothing yet," Heather said, slowly leaning down to lap a stray bit of cum from the tip of his cock. "Unless you leave me here all unsatisfied. Then you'll have done something wrong."

Simon's eyes went wide again. "You mean you want to...?"

Heather got up and sat down next to him on the bench, then lifted her legs and slid her bottoms off, dropping them on top of her towel. Simon's eyes snapped to the cleft of her legs, at the swollen, eager labia waiting within. She reached down and spread herself with two fingers. "I do."

Simon scrambled off the bench and stepped between her legs, staring down at her groin as if it held the secrets of the universe, his cock pulsing with life as it stiffened again. Heather had to smile at his youthful eagerness, and spread her legs further for him, allowing him to get the whole measure of her. He was just tall enough that the bench was level with his waist, meaning that all he had to do to bury himself inside of her was line himself up and thrust forward with his hips.

And so he did, with great eagerness. At that point Heather was so slick with sweat and arousal he practically glided into her, all the way to the base, filling her like few other men ever had. "Oh!" she cried, hooking her legs around Simon's waist. "Oh, God..."

"It's so warm..." Simon breathed, slowly nudging with his hips. "I never thought it was going to be this warm..."

"Here, hon." Heather gently took hold of his hips. "Follow my lead." She pushed back, slowly, nudging him out of her slick heat, then pulled back towards her, urging him back in. "Keep your motions slow and steady, like this... just like this..."

Simon steadied himself with hands on the wall as she helped him find a rhythm. Sweat dripped off his nose and pattered onto her flat belly, mingling with her own to run down their joined bodies to the floor. It was sweltering inside the room, but neither of them cared. Heather was invested in making sure the young man had a memorable first time, and she guided him into a steady rhythm that felt good for the both of them. The sight of his girthy cock spreading her wide scratched the itch that had built up the previous night when she'd eaten out Jasmine, relief and pleasure flowing through her as she started to counter Simon's hip motions, their bodies meeting with gentle smacks.

"This... is... amazing..." Simon breathed, his body glistening with sweat. "I'm not gonna last much longer..."

"I've had my tubes tied," Heather moaned. "So you can finish in me."

It was as if those specific words were all that were needed. Simon grabbed her hips and began to pound her eager cunny, the smacking of their hips growing louder and more frantic. Heather clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out as she crested and broke, her pussy fluttering around Simon and almost squeezing him out of her. He kept going, and going, and after a few more deep thrusts let out a stacco series of moans. Heather felt warmth flood her as she took his second orgasm deep in her pussy, and she tightened her legs around him to keep him inside her as he came down again.

"Oh, fuck," Simon moaned. "That's... that's..."

Heather put a finger to his lips. "Shhh, don't spoil it. Just enjoy it." He nodded, and the two of them lapsed into a blissful silence for a time, listening to the sounds of the outside filtering into their little shared space.

After a time, it became a little awkward, and Heather gently slid back along the bench so that Simon slipped out of her. He sat down next to her, leaning against the wall. "I'm gonna be sore tomorrow," he said.

"But I think you'll have a bit more spring in your step," Heather said. She patted his thigh. "Won't you?"

Simon grinned and closed his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I probably will."

"Good boy." Heather rinsed off quickly, slipping into her two-piece again. "Now, lock this behind me and wait a few minutes before you leave so nobody gets any ideas."

Simon nodded absentmindedly, and Heather slipped out of the changing room, leaving him to his own devices. She strode back out into the sunlight, acutely aware of the freshly-fucked feeling between her legs, and realized she wasn't really in the mood for more sunbathing.

So she went back to the elevator to the room, and flopped down on the bed. The little light on her phone was blinking, so she pulled it out to check her messages. A few emails, nothing urgent.

Another message from Sean.

Heather frowned, then called up the first message, the one she'd ignored earlier.

"Hey, babe, it's me. Look, I don't want to leave an entire explanation in a phone message. Give me a call back so we can talk about this, okay? I love you."

The next message was much shorter. A few seconds of silence, followed by a quiet "I miss you," before the automated voice started giving her her options for what to do with the message. Heather disconnected from the voicemail without deleting any of the messages, turning the phone over and over in her hand.

Crocodile tears would do nothing for her. She'd been too hurt, still was too hurt. That's why she was still finding justifications for eating out pretty front desk agents in women's bathrooms and taking the virginity of college boys in the changing rooms out of the beach. But she couldn't deny that a part of her didn't feel guilty, the same part of her that was looking at her wedding ring on the bedside table. Simon hadn't even asked if there was anybody in her life, too consumed by eagerness to be bothered with the question. Likewise, she hadn't bothered to consider him at all either. Was there someone in his life that wouldn't get to be his first now that wanted to be? Some mousey girl lurking in the peripheral of his life that should've gotten that chance? She wanted to run back down to the beach and ask, and if there was, to bring them together and make it happen. If she couldn't sort out her own problems, why not try to do something for other peoples'? She shook her head with a growl before jamming it into her pillow. Her 50th birthday had only just come and gone, shouldn't she have had this crap figured out by now?