I lay in bed listening to the alarm on my phone go through it's second snooze cycle. "Get up," I told myself. "You are a good auntie, you are a good little sister."
I'd taken a semester off uni to spend three months wandering through south-east asia, and when I'd returned, my sister Luna and her fellow Sam, had offered me their flat, rent free, until I got myself organised. To help out, I'd been helping around the house and this early Saturday morning I was taking their five year old son to soccer. Luna had looked intensely grateful. She'd complained that with a five year old in the house, she and Sam didn't get much one on one time together. I hoped that this morning they would be having lots of hot and sweaty sex while I shivered on the sideline watching two packs of five year olds chase a ball around.
Joey tumbled out of the car and ran over to where his team was forming around their coach, I spied a coffee van, bought an extra strong flat white, and found a spot where I could watch the game. I received a few curious looks from some of the other parents, who all seemed to know each other, and eventually one of the mums came over for a chat. She was great, and after she worked out my connection, she invited me to join her and some other parents to watch the game.
When I explained that I was giving Luna and Sam a sleep-in, several of them commented that Luna and Sam wouldn't be sleeping and that none of them hadn't had lazy Saturday morning sex for years, and we all laughed.
There was a bit of a mix amongst the parents who had come to watch the game; some couples, some mums, some dads. I was mainly chatting to the mums, who were interested in my travels, but I was conscious that several of the dad's were checking me out and had joined in the group. They were all in their early thirties, so ten years older than me.
I'd been attracting the attention of guys since my late teens, so while I was sort of used to it, I wasn't always comfortable with it, but it was sometimes fun to play with it. Was I a bit of a tease, sometimes. Was I a bit of a slut, I didn't think so. I'd had my share of lovers, I was a healthy twenty-three year old and I enjoyed fucking. I loved the feel of my body as it became receptive to a guy, of exposing myself to them, of seeing the look of lust in their eyes and feeling their male energy as they entered me, as they finished in me.
Was I going to sleep with one of these dads. No. I have a personal rule that I don't sleep with married men. I don't interfere in other people's relationships. This was a lesson I learned the hard way in my first year at uni, when a lecturer had made me feel special, had spent a lot of time teaching me how to give a slow, teasing blowjob, but then his wife, who he had never mentioned, confronted me in the uni cafeteria. It had been very intense, but I'd received a distinction for his course.
Joey's team lost 10 to 5.
As I dressed for soccer the following week I looked outside. It was a beautiful sunny autumn day so I pulled on shorts, a long sleeved, button up shirt and a light jumper. The jumper was a bit tight, and the shorts were a bit short, but I thought about the dads who had been checking me out last week. I'd have some fun with them.
As I walked from the car to the sideline, I felt lots of eyes on me. From the look on the faces of some of the mums, they were not impressed. From the look on the faces of some of the dad's, they were having me spread naked in front of them while they fucked me senseless. I had expected a reaction, but not this level of intensity. Weren't these men living with their partners, didn't they have sex available at home? Were they re-living their own early twenty-something sex lives as they contemplated me?
As I chatted, both the mums and dads enquired about my boyfriend status. I confessed I'd had a few guys while I was travelling, but that there was no one special in my life. I didn't tell them that lately I'd been feeling increasingly horny, and that I really needed to get laid.
Steve was his name. He was married to Sandra. They had both been at the game last week, but this week Steve was alone. He was tall and broad shouldered with the build of a swimmer. He was funny and handsome and I was fairly sure that he was at least half hard the whole time we were talking. Was he imagining me on my back, on my knees and elbows, maybe he was imagining his cock sliding across my tongue?
"No," I told myself, but I flirted anyway.
Three of the mums came over to talk. I'm not sure if they were trying to save me from Steve, or if they were trying to save Steve and Sandra's marriage from me.
Joey's team lost 15 to 3. They were going backwards.
That night I lay in bed and let my fingers explore my pussy, spreading myself open, feeling the wetness gather and my clit come erect. I thought of Steve. I wondered if he would listen to me as we fucked, respond to my requests, or if he would want to go all dominant and maybe just bend me over the kitchen table, push up my skirt and take me from behind. I think I wanted the latter, at least the first time. As I shook through my orgasm I didn't think of my 'no married men' rule.
The third week was again a cool but sunny day. I decided on a short skirt, tights and a tight long sleeved tee shirt with a scooped neck under a light parka. As I looked at myself in the mirror I noticed that my nipples were prominent. I pulled the parka across my breasts, but didn't do it up. Damn I looked good.
