I know parts of this story are going to sound fantasmical, but I swear to whatever God you happen to believe in that everything described herein is true. Trust me, I wouldn't be lying to you. Not in here. And certainly not in writing.
* * * * *
It was a dark and stormy night. We sat in the dark blue bucket seats of her white Explorer watching the rain drops, big fat puddles from heaven, splash and splatter in the school parking lot. The Parent Teacher Organization meeting we both knew to be tonight, apparently was not tonight. That, or someone deliberately gave us the wrong date, place and time so we could later chalk up this chance moment as fate.
Either way, until the rain and lightning let up, there was no way I was getting out of her car and dashing across the flooded parking lot to my royal blue Explorer. Not now. And besides, I was actually enjoying these few moments with her. The soft glow of the LCD on the dashboard radio provided the only light for our eyes to focus on, if you didn't count the jagged bolts of lightning bouncing around on top of the hill above the school. Early Bee Gees harmonized softly in the background as we easily talked about nothing and everything.
I had known Ethel for a little over three years now. We'd met when her daughter played on the T-ball team I coached with her husband. He was an assistant with me that year, but it became clear early on that Ethel was the coach in the family. That, or she just took a bigger interest teaching and goofing around with the kids than he did. Our kids started first grade together later that summer and it seemed that whenever I volunteered for a school or kids sports event, there was Ethel, right there beside me. I teased my wife that Ethel was stalking me, that she wanted me, and given half a chance she'd take me take me for her own. My wife would quickly follow with, "Go for it. If you want a woman like her, have at it."
I will say she was not really my kind of woman, at least not physically. She was a bit overweight, no doubt in part from birthing four kids. Round, soft upper arms squeezed out of the sleeves of a shirt she'd owned for a while now. Her breasts strained at the cotton fabric, clearly outlining the support structures of her sturdy bra. She was a plain and simple small town girl, not unpleasant looking, but a tad portly.
The reddish complexion around her cheeks wasn't necessarily unattractive, I'll say, and it suited her personality as a housemom comfortable in her self-assigned role. Her dark hair was cut in a traditional, sensible, and unexciting Mom-cut. Her eyes were pretty though. A muddy brown that appeared darker in the failing light of the early evening thunderstorm. And the shy, quiet smile that frequently creased her lips as we talked hinted at a hidden sensuality I'd not noticed in our three years of friendship.
We talked long after the storm subsided. The steamed windows of the Explorer wrapped us in a humid, foggy cocoon where we shared stories of our lives and dreams. To passersby, I'm sure it appeared that something more than conversation was going on in that lone vehicle parked in the empty school lot.
And conversation is all it was. Until I kissed her. I don't know why I did it. It just seemed right at the time. The darkness outside, the soft harmonies, the relaxed conversation, the dark eyes staring back at me in a long moment of silence. So, yeah, I kissed her. Her lips were soft and full, her mouth warm and wet, her tongue searching and probing. We kissed in her white soccer-mom family wagon like teenagers on a Friday night date.
Eventually, my hands found the round pillows of her chest, squeezing them through her bra. I searched the outsides of her shirt for erect nipples, but could feel only the firm industrial padding of her generic Wal-Mart bra. Slipping my hands up under her shirt and over her round belly, her mouth opened with a small gasp as my fingers slid under the bra's sturdy wire frame. Finally locating her fat, firm nipples, I gave them a gentle tweak.
She had found my growing penis in the meantime. Her fingers first traced the outline of my cock, then teased their way up inside the hem of my shorts, eventually settling around the base of my balls. She ran her red painted fingernails along the base of cock, cupping my warm, fuzzy ball sac. My shaft hardened as Ethel's fingers climbed the ridges and rills to the tender summit.
There was something different about the way she touched me, something I couldn't define. A tingling, or tickling, or tempting quality that I don't remember ever feeling with other women. It was almost unnatural, yet incredibly enticing. Reconciling this feeling as understandable in this moment stolen from our spouses, I opened my eyes. Her dark eyes stared back at me in the dwindling evening light. Her eyes looked darker now, almost coal black.
"We shouldn't be doing this," she whispered.
"I know," I said, squeezing the soft fleshy mound of breast in my hand. "Do you want to stop?"
"No. Yes. No. I don't know. But not here. Not now."
"Why not?"
"I want this, I think, but you don't understand. If I don't stop now…well… Just not here. Trust me."
I pulled my hand from under her shirt, and took her hands in mine. I looked at her dark eyes, shining in the yellow glow of the school parking lot light towers.
"Ok," she said," You and I both know this shouldn't be happening. And I don't even know if you want this to go any further. Neither do I for that matter. But here's an idea."
"What's your idea?"
"Let's give it a couple of days to think on this. On Friday, I'll call your office at eleven o'clock. If you answer, I'll tell you where to meet me. If you don't answer, I'll know that you don't want this take this further. If I don't call, you'll know I chickened out. God, I don't even know why I'm even suggesting this."
We made out silently for a few more minutes before I stepped out of her Explorer. I walked through the puddles to my Explorer, trying to soften the raging erection she'd created in my shorts. What was it about Ethel that pulled me into this fantasy? It was so unlike me, so strange that a woman like her could draw me into something like this. What the hell was I doing?
She smiled back as I waved to her, and she was gone, back home to her husband and four kids. I started the car, adjusted the radio volume, and drove home to my own wife and two kids.
The week moved along slowly, and Friday morning was even slower. Yesterday, I'd all but decided I wouldn't answer the phone if it rang at eleven. But now, as the hour drew closer, I still wasn't sure what I'd do. My wife had left early that morning for a meeting out of town. I'd seen Ethel dropping her kids off at the curb as I walked out of the school. I know she saw me, but she didn't acknowledge me when I waved. This isn't going to happen, I thought. And it's probably better for everyone that it doesn't.
I jumped when the phone rang at 10:57.
"You're not supposed to answer yet!" I heard a familiar voice say. "I'm just making sure I had the right number!"
"Well, I…," and she hung up. Odd, I thought. Why didn't she just stay on the line?
Three minutes later the phone rang again.
"Hello?"
