Victory Dance

Having arrived early, I'd wandered into the big, downtown stadium, climbed into the virtually empty stands, and taken a seat part-way up from center-field. I was there to watch my son, Cam, play soccer. His team had made it to the regional championships, so I'd traveled the two hundred or so clicks into the big city to support the boys. I mean, what proud parent doesn't want to see his beamish boy excel at sports, even if that son is hardly a boy anymore, at twenty-three.

It was a big venue for small crowd, so I sat, initially, by myself and watched as the spectators began to filter in. Eventually, as more people arrived, I saw a familiar face enter below me, and look about. It was a lone woman whom I knew to be connected with our team. I subtly waved, and, after a moment, she returned the wave and began to climb toward me.

As she approached, I dredged my memory for details of who she was: definitely the mother of another player on my son's team. "Jason...? Yeah, Jason Williams. Williams, yeah, that's right." We were really just passing acquaintances - I could hardly say that I knew her. I mean, honestly, I'd never passed more than a half dozen words with her. Hence, I knew her only as Mrs. Williams, although, searching my memory a bit deeper as she approached, I suspected her first name might be Cynthia; and I may have heard rumours that she had recently gone through a divorce or separation or whatever.

Anyway, she climbed the steps and took the seat next to me. "Nice to see a familiar face," she said, giving me a charming smile, before turning to watch the activity beginning on the field. She was a pretty woman; probably just on the bright side of fifty - much like me. So, we made a bit of small talk, as the game got underway, and when I addressed her as Mrs. Williams, she insisted, "Please call me Cynthia. Mrs. Williams is my former mother-in-law."

"Mark," I supplied, "Cam Gleason's dad."

"Of course," she replied, offering her hand, which I shook. She held my grip for an extra beat, I felt - wondering, for a moment, if there was any meaning in that.

Our conversation flowed easily, punctuated by cheers and exclamations - getting louder as the game progressed.

It quickly became apparent to me that Cynthia was a very tactile individual. I'd noticed that she had repeatedly leaned into me, initially grabbing my sleeve, or just clasping my arm when adding emphasis to what she was saying.

The excitement in the stadium built steadily, and, as is the stadium way, when the tension reached a certain point, the spectators rose on masse, and remained standing as game neared its conclusion. By then, she had begun clutching and holding my arm more or less continually, sporadically pulling me close. I became increasingly aware of her tits grazing my arm as she cheered wildly; and it wasn't just an isolated incident; it went on and on! She was a bit shorter than me, with a mature litheness, and a pert and perfect set of boobs, not too big, nor too small. And, oh, they felt nice!

Coming down to the wire, the game was tied one all. As the action got more and more intense, moving from one end of the field to the other, Cynthia clutched at my sleeve and pressed herself against me. As I turned in her direction, following the action, she held my jacket front - "Argh! I can't look!" - and pressed her face into the front of my shoulder, to hide her eyes. With no place else for it to go, my arm fell, and slipped very naturally about her waist. Holding close, she peeked past the gripped folds of my jacket to watch the last few minutes of the game play out. As fate would have it, her son, Jason, scored the winning goal with only moments on the clock, to give our boys' team the win.

As scattered cheers went up from several groups in the stands, Cynthia went wild! Bouncing excitedly, one hand pressed to my chest, as her other pulled us together firmly. I could feel her heat through my jeans, especially where her crotch pressed tightly against my thigh.

As the excitement of the game faded, she began to rub my body, letting her swirling hand dip into my open jacket to caress my chest through my shirt. Hardly surprisingly, my nipples stood up. Subtle changes in her breathing, the slightly shifting push of her body against mine, and an almost imperceptible rise in her temperature, all indicated that she, too, was becoming aroused.

Responding to her vague pressure I began to subtly return the caresses. Gently rubbing with my right hand - the one around her waist, I crept my fingers up, to play at the side of her far boob. Then, ever so slowly, I reached across with my left to cup the globes of her tits alternately, subtly tweaking her buds. Her nipples became rock-hard erect. She pretended to ignore me, but slowly reacted - gently, delicately thrusting her breasts out to meet my caresses.

Turning out from under my groping assault, Cynthia began to rub her breasts against my chest, her hand still circling my left breast, still watching the field and occasionally giving a half-hearted cheer. Still pretending to be just a spectator. Holding her close by the shoulder, and brushing my lips through her hair, I had surreptitiously let my left hand drop and approach the fly front of her tight jeans. Sensing no resistance, I'd lightly stroked her camel-toe, and circled her pussy lips and clit - noticeably puffy against the thin, stretchy material of her jeans.

As the teams, below on the field, assembled for the awards ceremony, I, wordlessly, took her by the hand and led her back through a tunnel and out of the stands, into the still empty concourse. Wraith-like, we glided over to an apparently little used storage closet I had, for some reason, noticed earlier. The room, as I expected, was filled with stacks of toilet rolls, and boxes of paper towel; and as the light came on and the door closed behind us, she went wild, turning her face to mine, and virtually climbing onto me. "Oh, my God!" she gasped, "I have never, ever felt so horny!"

Her arms went tight around my neck as she pushed herself into my face, aggressively mashing her lips against mine. At the same time, she began dry-humping my thigh, her knee between my legs, her thigh against my scrotum.

In response, I ran both my hands up under her top to maul her boobs, but, caught up in the fabric, feeling too restricted, I quickly withdrew to fumble with the buttons and throw her top open. I paused momentarily to admire the exposed globes and the inviting cleavage, before flipping her bra cups to fully free both her sweater puppies, indeed, revealing a most perfect pair of tits. Her nipples were already erect; standing proud; inviting attention - I willingly obliged. I grabbed both her tits and began pinching and flicking her nipples. She gasped against my mouth.

Actively, mutually sucking face, we both dropped hands to fumble with each others shirt buttons. Pulling my shirt open, Cynthia became impatient with my attempts to finish unbuttoning her, and stepping back slightly, she swiftly pulled her top up over her head. Immediately dropping my right hand from her left breast, I lowered my head to suck her tit into my mouth. Then, fiddling furtively with her pants, I finally, using both hands, undid her jeans, and without letting go of her nipple, I opened her fly-front and peeled them back - leaving her jeans hanging precariously from her hips.

She finally dropped her hands, which had been hanging on tight to my shirt front, and pushed her pants and panties down past her knees, stepping one leg out she dropped them into a puddle around her other ankle.

Then she struggled for a bit with my jeans, until I took over, and, loosening my belt and releasing my button, I dropped my jeans to the floor, and frantically shook them off, kicking off my shoes at the same time.

Lifting my face to hers, once again, I re-engaged my lip-lock. Then I gently returned my hand to her right breast to continue squeezing her luscious tit-flesh while tweaking her nipple. Meanwhile my other hand had slid down over her belly to palm her pussy. As my fingers entwined her bush, she sighed into my mouth - her sighs gradually morphing into moans and gasps, as I swirled across and along her blossoming labia. She was steaming hot and already damp. Extending my middle finger, I smoothly drew it into her already slick furrow, and, deliberately resisting the urge to speed up, I, unhurriedly, stroked back up her moistened slit, separating her puffy lips with my fingertip. After plowing her groove back and forth a few times, eliciting more and more pitiful mewling, I added my index finger.

Then, drawing both fingers a couple more along her trench, I abruptly hooked them into her cunt, almost lifting her off her feet as I strove to reach her G-spot. Her hips started writhing at the first touch, and her breath became a ragged "Oh, oh, oh!" through our continuous passionately bruising kiss. For Cynthia, the final straw was the sudden circling of my thumb across and around her clit. At the first touch of her love bud she began to convulse - jerking and quivering uncontrollably. She turned her face away, slightly, and pressed it into my shoulder, cramming my face hard against her cheek. Then she let out a muffled shriek! "Aaaaahhhhhh! Uuuupht! Uuuungh! Unh, uht, uh!"

Slowly, as she succumbed to her first orgasm, she drew my head down, clasping it to her heaving chest. I nibbled and sucked - first one tit then the other, as she caressed the top of my head, whimpering and rocking, pulling me tight then releasing. Licking and tonguing, I occasionally nipped her nipple with my teeth, causing Cynthia to shudder and quake along the length of her spine. She expressed her appreciation through mild whimpers, and inarticulate endearments. But finally, when she'd stopped trembling and shaking, I sucked each of her tits one last time before trailing my lips down over her abdomen. Dropping into a crouch, I held her hips firmly, then fastened myself, by my mouth, like a lamprey, to her pussy.

Inhaling deeply, I luxuriated in her scent as I sucked the moisture from her engorged lips, and within. Swirling my tongue, I licked and separated her labia, staying, deliberately, to start, below her clitoris. Then, as she spasmodically jolted and bucked her vagina against my mouth, I subtly changed my movements from swirling circles to vertical slurps, plowing her furrow. I gradually extended my caresses, stroking upward until I almost touched her love button. She whined and whimpered pathetically as she thrust her pussy hard onto my face, trying to force contact. Teasingly, I circled her clit several times before licking it - briefly, softly! A wave of heat emanated from her box as she shuddered and jerked, pushing toward climax, more intensely with each lick and poke of her clitoris. Calmly I raised my hands, allowing her to keep our forced contact with her hands pulled hard at the back of my head. Walking with my fingertips, I re-engaged her tits, roughly pinching and pulling her neglected nipples, and detonated in her another huge orgasm. This one, at least from the perspective of my cunnilingual position, seemed to exceed the intensity of the first, by several times.

Recovery took time; Cynthia seemed to fade in and out of consciousness, in turn moaning and gasping, softly sobbing and laughing. Her body was still shivering and quivering, shaking sporadically with full-length tremors, as she coaxed me back up to fold me into a tight embrace - hanging onto me as if I was her life preserver.

Eventually, after a long, long, comfortable period of still silence, she loosened her grip, and, gracefully, as if we had done this many times before, kissed her way down my chest, cupping my back and ass into her.

With a slow, calculated deliberation, she took my turgid member in her hands, taking its measure with her eyes, as she studied it from various angles before catching a drop of pre-cum with her tongue. Then, with an apparently practiced smoothness, and without hesitation, Cynthia gobbled me up, fully engulfing my rampant rod. Suddenly I felt myself bumping the back of her throat - her lips and nose brushing my pubes. Then with a subtle adjustment of angle, I felt myself slipping into her gullet, into an almost effortless deep-throat.

Walking her fingers up my chest, she began strumming my nipples. Mrs. Williams played me like an orchestra - bringing me to the edge; then backing off - closer and closer to climax. Arcs and sparks, shorting out the circuits of my brain, raced towards ignition. But I didn't want to cum quite so soon, so I stopped her and raised her back to standing, kissing and squeezing for a moment, before backing her against the packages of toilet tissue.

Nudging her legs apart, I swiped a hand along her slit, gathering some of her copious juices, and lubricated my bouncing schlong. I entered her swiftly - authoritatively - in one smooth stroke; plunging easily into her well lubricated tunnel. Holding her hips, I paused - deep, then pushed her back against boxes, seating myself firmly into her snatch. I felt our pubic hairs entwine.

She circled legs tight about my waist, and looked into my eyes - her gaze all warm and dewy, and more than a little puzzled, as if she were wondering how this had happened. The same sentiments crossed my mind as well, though I was not complaining. With my hands under her ass, holding her up, I slowly began to stroke - in and out, in and out, deep and shallow. And she responded by rocking her hips, gripping and releasing - tense and relax.

She was active and vocal, oohing and aaahing, grunting at each thrust, whimpering with each withdrawal, until, really, after only a few minutes, she began to shake and buck as another climax ripped through her. Pulling her ass tight against me, as she hung limply on my woodie, I felt her pulsing shudders drag me over the edge only moments later. Stabbing deep and violent, I could feel myself flushing her vagina with volley after volley of hot jism, as she continued to quiver and shake through the after-shocks. Really, we came together, my climax being so close on the echoes of hers.

As I softened, dropping out of her, I gently lowered her feet to the ground, letting her fall back against the boxes for support. I continued the fluid descent until I was crouched between her still trembling thighs. Realizing what I was poised to do, she muttered a half-hearted protest. "No! Don't! Too messy!" But it was ineffective, token resistance at best, and was quelled with the first swipe of my tongue up the length of her glistening furrow. At the first taste, her pussy redolent with love, I went after her with gusto. I ate her creampie with great relish, munching and sucking, licking and slurping, until I could feel the tension building. Her orgasm, her fourth by my count, exploded without warning. While rather vociferous, very little articulate words were uttered. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Unh! Aahhhh!"

As I slowly pulled up, she sank to her haunches, still panting - obviously fatigued. We had effectively we traded positions, and as she rested, she slurped me into her mouth, and proceeded to suck me slowly, gently back to erection. Languorously using her mouth and her hand, I was amazed at how quickly she got me back up to fully erect. I knew this would be the swan song for me so I gently pulled her up and turned her over. Benefiting still from her copious lubrication, I glided, easily into her doggie style. Basking in her glorious gripping of my member, I sawed lazily in and out, holding my impending climax at bay. But after just a little bit, Cynthia turned and said softly over her shoulder, "Put it in my bum!" Taken completely by surprise, I wasn't, at first, sure I'd heard her correctly. I raised my eyebrows, aghast, and muttered, "Mrs. Williams...!"

With a bit of an embarrassed smile she added, "I love it up the ass!" - just to make herself clear.

I thought to myself, "My, my - still waters run deep, eh? Very deep!" It seemed there was more to Mrs. Williams than just a middle-aged soccer-mom.

Scooping the plentiful juices from her pussy as I withdrew, I lathered my twitching rod and obliged forthwith. "Slowly," she whimpered, between grunts and heaves, "It's been a while." Throwing herself back onto me, her gasps and moans were punctuated with satisfied sighs, becoming squeals of ecstasy. She was tight and smooth, gripping but not pinching. I held her hips firmly, appreciating the sensuous swing of her boobs as they counted out the beat like pendulums. Between us we established a steady rhythm, me sawing evenly, as she rocked back and forth, meeting my thrusts, then pulling back until we were only connected by the helmeted edge of my glans gripped by her rosebud.

The fire of a large and mutual orgasm was apparent right from the start but it built inexorably with the measured acceleration of our congress. Our tempo increased, colours flashing in my eyes, her whimpering growing desperate, my balls slapping her pussy at every in-stroke, until we became frantic - trying to merge our genitals into one! At the first rippling spasm of her clenching rectum, the first keening wail from her lips, my climax exploded in the pit of my being, rumbling in a shock wave from deep in my gut, out along my twitching iron bar, and pouring swoosh and swoosh of hot cum into her grabbing and squeezing bowel.

"Arrrrggghhhh," Cynthia virtually screamed - so loud that she had to stuff a fist into her mouth. Even while her body still shook convulsively, she expertly, strongly gripped and released her rectal muscles milking every last drop of semen out of me.

I pulled out, and she rolled over, in one fluid motion. We kissed with a sort of gentle passion, our hands each dropping to fondle the others sex, the fire of arousal still burning between us. Unbelievably my cock rose, once more, to a solid erection, twitching and bobbing in her hand. As I let go to brace against her shoulders, her arms encircled my neck, holding me firmly in her lip-lock and pulling my bouncing rod against her mound. My stiffness slid into her, once again, like hot knife through butter, pushing deep into her warm, clutching box. Mrs. Williams lifted a knee to complete penetration, and as I bumped the end of her vagina, we paused momentarily, before beginning to rock to and fro, in a slow, dreamy rhythm. And amazingly we not only came again, we came together. While mine was a bit of a squeezer, hers was long and gentle. Finally, we stopped, having run out of both energy and ability.

Eventually, after a long, torpid silence, sated and enervated, we reluctantly separated. Still panting, as we rummaged around to locate our discarded clothing, Cynthia protested, somewhat embarrassed by her lack of self-control, that she had never done anything remotely like that before. That being said, though, she marveled, almost wistfully, that she had never, ever experienced such intense sex - really, such intense anything!

I liberated a roll of toilet tissue, and we proceeded to test the single-ply absorbency, mopping our mixed fluids off still glistening flesh. Embarrassed and self-conscious, but smiling and pleased, we quietly and awkwardly dressed.

Like a couple of guilty teenagers, we carefully opened the storeroom door and peeked out. The coast was clear. We stepped into concourse as inconspicuously as possible, and moved away from 'the scene of the crime', apparently unnoticed by anyone. We paused and looked around, our mutual excitement slowly calming. "I need to find the Ladies' room," Mrs. Williams whispered, wary and subdued, but smiling almost coyly.

"Yeah. Okay." I didn't really have any idea what to do next, so I just returned her smile.

"Er, thanks..."

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Hope to see you... - well, 'bye."

"Bye."

"See you later then," she threw out casually as she headed off. I watched her momentarily, then turned, a smile pulling at my face as I replayed her parting words - "See you later, then." Maybe! May-be!