It was a Friday night and my son Tom had his first hockey game of the season. A senior, it was his second year as starting goalie, and the games always put me on the edge of my seat. Coffee and popcorn in hand, I found a seat towards the back and settled in as the other parents slowly filled the seats.
Being a divorced dad, I always made sure to make his events. Whether band, golf, or other school functions over the years, I did my best to support him and show my face. My ex wife, on the other hand, took solace in the fact she was the woman in charge and didn't need to show her face at all of his events for Tom, or myself, to know it. Our sophomore daughter in college took right after her.
Tonight, however, was apparently not going to be the norm. For, who should stroll in with her 5 year old daughter Emma and 2 year old son Max was my ex wife Beth. Or rather, Elizabeth as she now directed me to call her. Perhaps Beth reminded her of too many late nights in the basement, kids upstairs and asleep, where she let me explore her body. To spend whatever time she needed to lie back, legs spread, and push my head into her vagina as I licked dutifully until she orgasmed. Beth certainly appreciated it, often telling me I could do whatever I wanted.
Elizabeth, on the other hand, called me by my first name with our kids, Sarah and Tom. Every time I called, it was "Tom, Peter's on the phone." or "Sarah, Peter's here to give you a ride." Even after 10 years and over $250,000 in after tax child support, Beth showed zero care or concern for me as a parent. Life moved on, and I learned to just enjoy the kids as best I could.
Tonight, however, as Beth strolled in, I was a bit surprised. It had probably been a couple months since I really laid eyes on her. Having kids over 40 did not do any justice to her, and it seemed like she had put on a good 40 pounds. Her long, blonde hair still flowed beautifully around her wrinkle free, pale, angelic face. The motherly body seemed to swell beneath the dress she was wearing, bulging out slightly at her stomach and hanging on the soft swells of her botTom.
I watched her profile slowly walk down the stairs with her husband Frank leading the charge. My eyes locked on the shocking size of her chest, probably twice the "b" cup I remembered from college and our first years of marriage. The bulge of her chest seemed in perfect proportion the roundness of her botTom, and despite the added weight, she looked very voluptuous in the blue flowered dress, black sweater draped over her shoulders. She walked with the air of knowing her beauty was understood and to be admired.
They sat down in the front row so the kids had some space. And frankly, they needed it. Max dropped a puck he was carrying, held his hockey stick, and started to run back and forth along the boards. Emma ran up to the glass, slapping it, trying to get Tom to pay attention to her as the teams were warming up. I felt a pang of jealousy, remembering the early years when our kids were eager and excited about everything. But mostly, as Beth sat down, as I admired her body, I was jealous that she wasn't coming home with me tonight despite the larger size.
The game started, and I found myself for once not very wound up as my son began to defend the goal. Rather, my eyes kept returning to Beth, watching her interact with sweater on her shoulders. Opening it, revealing a surprising large amount of bare breast. She would turn towards my direction, watching Max run down the boards, and my eyes wondered at the borderline obscenity of the low cut front, like an exposed butt. I glanced at the other woman, noting their high collars or bundled coats. Beth, on the other hand, was practically letting her tits hang out.
The more I watched, the more I wondered if she knew what she was doing. Realizing that her body was borderline fat, so she was providing a distraction from it. Relishing the fact that her chest was the envy of the women and men around her. She had put on her sweater, but made sure it stayed unbuttoned and open, tucked into her arms on the sides of her breasts. Beth would even turn, look back at the crowd to see who was here, presenting the fans her cleavage. I was careful not to look directly at her, but I could see her movements and turning.
By the end of the first period, I was raging hard. My son had not let in a goal, and I didn't even notice. Beth's husband Frank took the kids up the stairs, leaving Beth alone. She pulled the sweater tight over her chest as she turned to watch them go, and then, catching herself, she let go of her sweater and let it pop over her breasts. Her body seemed to arch excessively, pushing up her cleavage, letting the world stare at the mother who apparently wanted to be stared at.
Or perhaps I just needed a girl friend to take my mind of other women's breasts. I stared at the ice, watched the Zamboni, and tried to relax. Tried to remember we were in a public place, not our basement 10 years ago, and that Beth would not be popping her top for me. Thankfully, Beth turned away from me and my eye's no longer had their distraction.
A small whimper in the distance made me turn towards Beth again. Emma had returned, face almost crying, and I could vaguely hear her complain that they were out of popcorn. Her world seemed to be ending as the players took the ice again, Max running along the boards with Frank following. Beth lifted Emma and put her on her lap, consoling her as a mother would. Life for a 5 year old must be tough without popcorn.
My sympathetic smile slowly drifted from my face as I watched Emma and Beth. Emma was leaning back, pouting heavily, and staring at her mom's breasts. She brought her hands up along the sides of Beth, finding the heavy sides of Beth's chest, and looked up at her mom. Beth looked down, lovingly, trying to love out the agony that comes without popcorn. She leaned down and kissed Emma on the head, hands running through her hair. Emma moved her hands to the front of Beth's dress, began fondling gently with the hem, and looked up at her staring mom.
Emma was apparently looking for permission to breast feed! It hadn't even crossed my mind that perhaps Beth still had on her motherly fat. That her body was still hormonal, storing nutrients for the coming winter. Beth had stopped breast feeding well before Sarah and Tom had hit one, but apparently, life was different these days. Perhaps Beth was fighting her battle with middle age, keeping the essence of motherhood as long as she could. It really didn't matter. All I cared about at the moment was Emma's little fingers tugging gently at Beth's dress.
Beth shook her head, indicating that permission was not going to be granted. Sadly, Beth seemed to have limits with her public displays of erotic behavior. Emma moved her head up, now even more distraught, and began to cry. My eyes locked on Beth's chest, now slightly more exposed from Emma's tugging. The nipples seemed ready to jump out, chest turning slightly towards me. My eyes moved up. Beth was staring directly at me, eye's cold and furious. With a simple turn, she covered her exposed chest and held Emma.
The displays came to an abrupt end for the remainder of the game. I didn't even look over towards Beth, but it was clear her sweater was on and she was hiding herself from me. Fuck it. If she didn't want anyone to look, she shouldn't have worn the dress she did. The world was full of turtle neck sweaters. It was probably a good thing she hid herself because it took the remainder of the game for my erection to slowly fade away.
The game ended with Tom's team winning. It wasn't quite a shut out, but any win is a good win in hockey. I walked out to the waiting area, smiling and taking the congratulations offered from several parents. The joy of being a goalie parent is feeling like your son single handedly won the game, even though that isn't the case at all. The pain of a goalie parent was feeling like your son let the team down when they lose. It's a bi-polar life, so I was going to take the joy while I could.
Beth walked through the door following a running Max who was chasing his puck that he had just thrown across the floor. Emma was running after him, yelling.
"No Running Max! You'll fall!"
She was her mother's daughter. Beth and Frank slowly strolled down the hall, walking past me, all of us ignoring each other. I made my way towards the concession stand, knowing I had a good 10 minutes before Tom would be done in the locker room. Coffee in hand, I sat down and lost myself with a game of chess on my phone.
One by one, players began to appear. It was always an odd mix of both teams coagulating off the ice, having just spend the last hour and a half checking and hitting each other. Players that seemed so menacing towards each other now were returning to society and presenting their kinder, gentler selves to their parents. I stood up and walked over, not wanting to miss Tom as he was going home with Beth.
Beth and Frank were returning as well. Apparently there was some sibling disagreement, with Frank holding Emma, slightly teary. Frank was now doing his best to console her.
"Honey... Max didn't mean to hit you with the puck."
Hockey was not for those who could not take a hit, and Emma clearly couldn't. Max was paying no mind to anyone, still focussed on the puck on the ground. Beth approached, sweater held tight over her chest with folded arms. Max looked up, eyes apparently finding a target, and swung his stick hard. The puck sailed.
"Whoaa...Got it!"
