The Suburban Mom

Chapter 1

It was a beautiful fall day and Marcia was as usual urging her two boys, Aidan (10) and Mark (8), to hurry up so they wouldn't be late for soccer practice. Her husband of nearly 12 years, Connor, had gone out early, since his best friend Art had phoned him the evening before to tell him the fish were biting at Lake Canarsie. Marcia knew that this was more about the camaraderie than the art of angling for her husband, but she didn't begrudge him his time relaxing on the occasional Saturday with his best friend and his icebox.

They got to soccer practice late. Usually Marcia would just drop the boys off and get on with the errands she needed to run, but on this particular day she decided pretty much on a whim to park the van and stick around for a while. Maybe she would be able to meet with some of the other parents; perhaps she could even have a word with one of the coaches. Not about soccer, which she knew almost nothing about, but about her boys and how they were doing.

She had barely entered the field where they practiced until the weather got worse and they moved to an indoor venue when she came across Carina, whose son Collin went to school with her boys. Carina was a vivacious blonde who she knew Connor had a bit of a thing for, but this had never affected Marcia's relationship with her, as she knew how devoted she was to her husband Larry.

They talked animatedly about their latest news as the boys and girls were going through their stretching and warm-up routines prior to practice proper. Indeed, they got so involved in their conversation that they didn't notice that the practice had begun. Not, that is, until a ball came whizzing past them, just missing Marcia. A girl she hadn't seen before, who looked at first glance a bit too old for this group, ran past them to fetch the ball. Stopping briefly on her way back with the ball tucked under arm, she checked whether the women were okay, addressing her comments to Marcia, whose leg the ball had just missed. She spoke with a pronounced foreign accent, but she wasn't a Latino.

Marcia said she was fine, but as she did so she felt her heart skip a beat. Why this should happen, she didn't understand. She'd never so much as kissed a girl before, let alone fantasised about being with a woman. She could now see that far from being a participant, this girl (or rather woman) was one of the coaches. She couldn't be any older than 25, which made her at least five years younger than Marcia herself, who had just turned 31. She wore her brown hair in a ponytail and wore shorts and the official T-shirt of the company that organised the practice sessions. Her face was angular and spare as if she didn't get enough to eat; she looked to Marcia as if she had just arrived as an immigrant from a developing Eastern European country. Despite herself, Marcia noted that her chest was flat. In her mind's eye, she saw the girl suddenly strip off her shirt to reveal her sports bra but immediately dismissed it as inappropriate and unbecoming for her as a married woman of two children.

"She's an odd one is that Vesna," said Carina, looking after the athletic woman as she trotted away from them.

"Why's that?" replied Marcia, having recovered her poise.

"She only came over from Croatia a year or so ago and they say she leads quite a Bohemian lifestyle."

"Oh, Carina, you're showing your age," laughed Marcia. "Live and let live!"

"People say she has a lover - no, several lovers. And they aren't men."

"For heaven's sakes," said Marcia, trembling a little inwardly but fortunately keeping control of her voice, "this is the twenty second century. Being a lesbian, or at least bi, is the norm for young women these days."

"Well, it isn't for me," huffed Carina. "If I was a mother who had a daughter here, I'd pull her out of the class. Thank God mine doesn't like soccer!"

"Oh, Carina, whatever shall we do with you. I don't think this Venus, or whatever her name is -"

"Vesna."

"I don't think this Vesna is going to prey on 10-year-old girls."

"How do you know?" asked Carina, getting very emotional about things.

After a pause, she added, "I wouldn't trust her around my child whatever you or anyone else says."

Then, leaning in towards Marcia as if she was going to impart a secret, she added, "Even though people do say that she has a thing for older women, married women."

"Oh, Carina," Marcia said, taking every effort to keep her voice level as goosebumps spread up her arms, "you have the most over-active imagination of anyone I've ever met. The next thing you'll be telling me is that she's already hit on you!"

"She wouldn't dare," Carina responded. "Anyway, it wasn't me she talked to just now, it was you!"

"Perhaps she'll ask me for my phone number at the end of practice," countered Marcia with carefully crafted sarcasm. "Well, fortunately - or unfortunately - I won't be around then. I have errands I need to run. Call me during the week and we can grab a coffee together."

It was a shaken - and rather shaky - Marcia who made her way the short distance back to her car. The very idea that this Croatian girl (hardly a woman) could be interested in her (a Mid-West soccer mom) was so ridiculous that she actually chuckled to herself as she started the engine and backed out. But as she did so, an image of that angular face flashed in front of Marcia - so real that she stopped the car and checked the rear-view mirror.

"I know what you want," the face said, its lips moving in a strangely sensuous manner. "And one day you will come to me and I will give it to you."

Chapter 2

That evening, when Connor got back from his fishing a little the worse for wear, the boys were still up, it being a Saturday.

"Hey, Dad!" shouted Mark excitedly. "Guess what happened today?"

"I've no idea, son, but I know you're going to tell me."

"Mom nearly got hit by the ball. She was talking with Mrs Peterson not watching the practice and the ball was just this far from hitting her."

He closed the distance between his two hands to indicate what a near thing it had been.

"Not just that," chipped in Aidan. "Ms Coric - that's our coach - she ran over to check that mom was okay."

"Aidan, you do exaggerate so," said his mother. "She came over to fetch the ball. Of course, she wanted to check that Mrs Peterson and I were okay. That's called being polite."

"But normally the person who kicks the ball has to go and get it. That's the rule. Tommy was already starting to run when Ms Coric called him back and said she'd get it this time. And then we all saw her stop and talk to you. She must have thought the ball had hit you, but we could have told her it had missed you."

"Well, you know, these days people have to be so careful," said Connor helpfully. "They don't want to be facing a lawsuit for assault."

"You boys!" said Marcia, much relieved that the sting had been taken out of the situation byt her husband, even if she was hot under the collar beyond belief at the realisation that this woman had so obviously been making a play for her and had actually put some planning into it. "Such active imaginations you have!"

After the boys had gone to bed and she was lying on her bed still dressed while Connor was in the shower, she felt an overwhelming urge to play with herself. She did do this occasionally, but it was always when Connor was away on business trips and it was always him who she was thinking about when she touched herself. This time, though, it was this foreign woman, this stranger who filled her mind and caused the tingling down there.

At first, she fought the urge off by thinking about the church service she would be attending with her family as usual the following morning. But when that thought had run its course she found herself thinking of the girl once again in her sports bra. Only this time the girl pulled the bra up over her head to reveal breasts that were little more than two fried eggs. Except that from the middle of the yolks jutted the biggest nipples she had ever seen.

Scarcely aware of what she was doing, Marcia let a hand slip under the waistband of her pants and under her panties. As if propelled by some outside power, first one, then two fingers entered her vagina, which was soaking wet. The jolt from this discovery brought her to her senses sufficiently to check that the water was still running in the shower. It was. Disregarding the voice that told her to think about Pastor Donaldson and Doris, her elderly house group leader, Marcia drove her fingers in and out of her pussy with a squelching sound that was so loud she was worried that Connor might be able to hear it over the sound of the water. Arching her back and digging her free hand into the bedding, she continued to frig herself until she came. The power of the orgasm was far greater than anything she had ever experienced when she had been thinking about her husband.

Lying on the bed, she expected to feel a tremendous sense of shame and guilt descend upon her. Instead, she felt the kind of sexual satisfaction that she hadn't felt since before the boys were born. She knew that this night she would make love to Connor and she would give herself in a way she hadn't been able to manage for all those years. She knew he would be surprised but she knew also that she could easily explain it as the result of the way he turned her on. She had been too bothered by silly things that didn't really matter like the boys' test results and the need to prove that her parenting skills were the equal of other mothers. She would tell him that when she was lying (no, sitting) on the bed while he was having a shower she had realised these things were affecting their sex life, and that she had decided to do something about it and get things in perspective.

And that is exactly how things panned out. Except that the reason she was lying there naked waiting for him, the reason she was giving him a blowjob, the reason she was riding him like a cowgirl and using the kind of language he hadn't heard her use for years, the reason she was telling him to give it to her harder - the reason was that she was thinking about that damned Vesna with her flat chest and her crooked mouth. She was thinking of her lying between her legs telling her what a beautiful pussy she had and then licking her out until she came. And when she came for Vesna, she came for Connor, who filled her with his spunk with such abandon that she was afraid he would wake the boys.

"My God, babe!" said Connor as they lay in each other's arms. "That was incredible. Whatever it takes for you to keep those distractions out of your mind, whatever I can do to help you do that, you just tell me."

"Oh, darling," she said, "I think I have crossed a line in the sand. I feel confident that I will never return to the place I was in before. I have gotten an idea of what's important and I'm not going to lose sight of my priorities ever again. Best I can help it."

'Oh, babe, you're the best," said Connor, before falling asleep in Marcia's arms, a very contented man.

Chapter 3

Marcia went to church the next day with a spring in her step. It was her turn to look after the crèche, so after seeing the boys safely settled into junior church, she left Connor with a peck on the cheek at the entrance to the main building and made her way to the outbuilding where the crèche was situated. When she got there, she met Pamela, who was in charge of the crèche, which surprised her, as according to the schedule she was supposed to be working with Dana that day.

Pamela explained that Dana had been taken ill overnight but her daughter Alyssa had agreed to step in for her. She was waiting for her now. She was only a few minutes away according to the message she sent before she set out from home. Marcia knew Dana had a daughter but had never heard her talk about her. According to church gossip, she was the black sheep of the family, and had gone through a Goth stage, when she would wear nothing but black and wore studs in virtually every part of her body - or so the story went.

While they waited for her, Pamela chatted with the parents who were dropping off their kids while Marcia kept order as best she could as the room began to fill with little souls. It seemed to Marcia that everyone from the neighborhood (let alone the church) had brought their little ones to church on that particular Sunday morning.

After a few minutes, a new mom arrived, but seemingly without her child. Marcia reckoned she must be waiting for her husband with child in tow, as she waited in the doorway. It was when she noticed that Pamela was no longer there that Marcia realized this must be Alyssa. If she had once been a rebellious teenager, then how much she had changed! She was of medium height, with ash blonde hair done in a ponytail and when she turned to look at Marcia the effect on her was electric. The same spine-tingling sensation she had felt yesterday when Vesna had spoken to her was repeated, only with even greater intensity. The luminescence of the young woman's smile (she can't have been older than 21, 22, Marcia thought) lit up the whole room; but to Marcia it was as if it was meant only for her.

"What is happening to me?" Marcia thought. "I am a married woman with two children. I have no interest in other women. Not in that way, anyway."

"Mrs Regan? Are you okay?" Alyssa's voice interrupted Marcia's musings. "Are you okay?"

"Oh my God!" thought the older woman. "Up close she's even hotter!"

"You must be Alyssa," said Marcia, regaining a measure of control over herself. "Very nice to meet you."

Marcia extended a hand, when part of her wanted to hug the girl, and yet another part to kiss her on her full lips.

"Nice to meet you too, Mrs Regan," said Alyssa, with that smile that lit up the room which Marcia found so distracting. "My mother has told me so much about you."

"Please, you make me feel so old with this Mrs Regan business. Just call me Marcia."

"It's a beautiful name," said Alyssa, looking a now slightly trembling Marcia in the eye. "It suits you perfectly."

Marcia wanted to excuse herself and visit the washroom. Anything to get away from this girl who all unknown to her was tormenting her so badly. Or did she really not know the effect she was having on her? Of course not, Marcia concluded. It's as if I'm seeing lesbians everywhere. Maybe I need to see a counsellor or a psychologist. Maybe they can explain what's happening to me?

Marcia broke off her conversation with Alyssa abruptly, knowing the girl would feel her very rude but thinking it the best way to ensure that she didn't get the wrong idea about her. The result was the opposite to that which Marcia intended, as Alyssa recognised at once the internal conflict raging in the older woman's heart. It was something she had encountered many times before; something which thrilled her and aroused her in equal measure.

She was now in her senior room year at college, so typically it had been freshmen or sophomores who struggled before giving way to the inevitable. She was proud that no one had yet managed to resist her seductive charms, not even the tutor on her psychology course. She had even had to turn down the approaches of her Anthropology professor, but that was because it would have been too complicated. She was married (to another woman) and she had to grade her thesis. In the end, Prof Dabrowski had been cool about things, even grateful, Alyssa thought, for the levelheadedness her student had shown.

But this woman, this lovely package that had come to her gift-wrapped, this woman who was patently looking for someone to untie her bow and remove her wrapping before enjoying what she had to offer, was different. Looking at her as she busied herself with the little ones, studiously avoiding her glance, she smiled inwardly. She remembered her first conquest, made when she was still at high school. Her name was Yvette and she had been a lot like Marcia: deeply sexual yet at the same time in deep denial of her sexuality.

She was the babysitter for Yvette and her husband Jack. It had been Jack who made a play for the girl charged with looking after their three-year-old but Alyssa has no interest in Jack. All her interest was centered on his prim and proper wife. Prim and proper she may have been, but nothing she wore (however loose or baggy) could conceal those big, big titties. And they were titties that the schoolgirl was determined to feast on.

Alyssa had had to bide her time until finally one night, Yvette came home alone from a party in the neighbouring county. Jack had passed out on the floor and Alyssa had spoken to the hosts and they had said they'd look after him and send him home in a taxi the next day.

As soon as Alyssa saw that Yvette had come home alone she knew she had the opportunity she'd been waiting for. Everything slipped into place beautifully. Yvette had drunk a few glasses of wine so she had loosened up but wasn't drunk, and better still she was angry with her husband because he had spent the evening flirting with another, younger woman.

Alyssa manoeuvred the two of them into Yvette's bedroom and when they were sitting on the bed she stretched out her arms as an invitation to the older woman to hug her. Yvette didn't need a second invitation, and as they hugged Alyssa marvelled at the feeling of those huge boobs mashing against her girlish breasts. Yvette clearly felt something too, as she suddenly became agitated and said she'd better check on her little one.

Sensing the time was ripe, Alyssa told her she'd checked only five minutes before and, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear, let her hand find a place on her neck. When Yvette became rigid, she knew it was the rigidity of desire and accordingly moved in very slowly to kiss her, giving the married woman the chance to pull out at any time. It was a chance she had no wish to take.

When their lips touched, Yvette seemed to lose all her inhibitions, as months of repressed desire sought release. From being the initiator and leader, Alyssa became the follower as a complete transformation came over the housewife. She stripped Alyssa of all her clothes in a matter of seconds, and without any more preliminaries dove into her cunt, licking her juices ravenously and bringing her to an orgasm in a matter of seconds.

After that, the lovemaking became more measured, as Alyssa finally received the opportunity to suckle on those mammoth titties. Yvette kept telling her that her husband didn't treat her like she did, and Alyssa just had to keep telling the older woman how beautiful she was. It was so easy and yet so rewarding. When she finally got to eat her pussy, she was greeted by the sight of dark brown folds (flaps almost) which craved attention.

"Oh, fuck!" breathed Yvette. "Jack never does that to me."

After she had brought Yvette to a series of orgasms (a process which was, if she was honest with herself, as easy as shelling peas), Alyssa listened as the buxom brunette asked her if she had fucked Jack.

"He likes 'em young," she added with anger. "That bimbo he was sniffing about tonight can hardly have been legal."

Alyssa thought a little white lie was in order and told Yvette that her husband had always been a perfect gentleman with her. She was going to add that she didn't like men, but thought Yvette would interpret that as meaning that her douche of a husband had tried his luck with her but failed.

After that first night, Alyssa and Yvette had made love regularly (sometimes in motel rooms) until Alyssa went away to college. When she returned at the end of her freshman year, she learned from her mother that Yvette and her family had moved to Arizona, where Jack had received a job offer from a defense contractor.