Soccer Moms by Mark Aster Soccer moms have on average 2.18 children. Are 37 years old. Have been married for 15.5 years, although 14% are divorced. 59% have some work outside the home; 65% drive foreign cars. 48% belong to a health club. The average soccer mom runs five errands a day. Drinks in moderation. Wears a shade too much makeup. And, although family issues are important in their voting decisions, many soccer moms are up for an occasional extramarital fuck when opportunity presents itself. That's Judy Stratton there, in the black suit with the red scarf and the Gucci bag. We did it in the back of her big Dodge minivan, one Wednesday afternoon around the corner from her daughter's school, parked in the shade. She was wearing jeans and a sweater that day; I remember the car's suspension creaking as she rocked and panted under me on the grey carpeting. In the back, with the seats down. Vehicles play a large part in the affairs of soccer moms. I fucked Wendy Jacobs in her Subaru twice a week all one summer, Tuesdays and Thursdays behind Kiddy City while her son was in karate class. We would neck like teenagers in the front seat, our tongues down each other's throats, big hungry wet kisses and lots of ardent groping. Then she'd unzip my pants and work her panties down her thighs, and swing into my lap and take me inside her. We'd come together, right on schedule, and she'd clean herself up with wipes from her purse. Soccer moms come in all sizes, shapes, and colors. I remember Mrs. Tamamura's small conical breasts, just warm bulges in her chest, her smooth golden skin, fucking slowly and leisurely in her bedroom on a Saturday afternoon. And sucking on Kayla Newhouse's big chocolate-brown tits while she rode my cock, naked and moaning, in an empty back room at the skating rink during her second son's birthday party. But you don't often get soccer moms naked. Mostly there's just enough time for a squeeze and a quick slick coupling, no time for undressing and dressing again. After Terri Inglese's Monday aerobics class, there was barely time for us to go off to the darkened exercise room, for her to slide off her lycra shorts and cotton panties and lie back on the Nautilus bench so I could crouch between her strong thighs and eat her pussy. She didn't like me to come inside her, but she would suck me to a quick orgasm and swallow my cum with what looked like real pleasure. Only 8% of soccer moms report regular homosexual contact, but 34% have had at least one same-sex encounter in their adult lives. Once, closing up after a girls' basketball game, I heard some noises from the ladies' room, and found Ella Morgan and Barbara Stanley half-naked in a stall, with their mouths on each other. Mrs. Morgan's fingers were deep in Mrs. Stanley's cunt, pumping in and out. I excused myself and told them I'd watch the door while they finished up. They were grateful; that summer Mrs. Morgan would stop by after PTA meetings, and I would fuck her from behind on the hood of her car in my garage, with her skirt up over her back and her panties down around her ankles. Mrs. Harrison, the younger of the third-grade teachers, is a pretty, plump woman with a ponytail and two kids of her own. At Meet the Teacher Night I could tell she felt my eyes on her. At our first parent-teacher conference, in the empty classroom, she showed me the reading table and the resource center, and then she sat down on a little chair, her face just at the level of my belt. I told her how well planned her homework assignments were, and she smiled and thanked me, and touched the front of my pants with two fingers. I didn't say anything as she unzipped my fly and took out my penis. Her lips were warm and wet around me; she sucked gently and moved her head back and forth, and I was hard and aching. She stroked my balls, and I came in her mouth. Then we talked about goal-setting and reading assignments until I was hard again, and I lay her back on her desk and pulled down her slacks and we fucked long and hot, looking into each other's eyes. She came hard, with her mouth wide open. Some soccer moms cook and some don't. Mrs. Iacobucci gives dinner parties three or four times a year, inviting over some friends and making vast steaming pots of spaghetti, linguine, lasagne. After dinner and wine, we split up into twos and threes and drift off to the bedrooms for sex. Mrs. Iacobucci herself likes double penetration; I remember sinking my oiled cock slowly into her asshole as she lay on her bed with her husband Antony under her, his cock buried in her big expansive pussy. It was hard to find a rhythm, but we did eventually, and they both came soon after I did. It was good, coming in her ass. I was at Esther David's house one Tuesday in early spring. Her kids were in school, of course, and Ed was at work. We were making plans for the Youth League play, picking out possible scripts, deciding which kids would be best on which committee. I found myself touching her now and then, just a friendly hand on the shoulder as I walked behind her, or a palm against her back as we stood close together by her computer. She looked at me once when I touched her, amused, not startled. And once she turned, leaning slightly into me, so my hand slid around from her back and over her stomach, her body pressed against my palm for a second. Her flesh was soft and yielding, like kneaded dough. Esther is a tall, big-boned woman with long dirty-blonde hair, her nose maybe a touch too big, eyes far apart, wide red lips. A lovely ass. As we worked on the announcements, I felt her fingers brush over my shirt once. She touched my cheek with the back of her hand, pushing a strand of hair off of my face. Her eyes were quiet, her lips moist. Our faces were close together, and I could see the pinkish powdery makeup under her eyes. She smelled very clean, very warm. She got us some iced tea, and when I took the glass from her, our fingers touched for longer than they needed to. We finished up and put things away. We were standing near the door, close together. "This was a very productive day," she said, "I'm glad you could come." I found I was holding her hand. I smiled at her, and she moved her fingers over mine. "The kids will be home at three," she said. She brought our hands up to her shoulder. "Plenty of time," she said, very softly. Esther's breasts were round and soft through her blouse. I kissed her mouth and she closed her eyes. Her lips were moist and caressing on mine. I kissed her again and she slid her tongue into my mouth. I moved my hands down her back to her ass and pulled her against me. I kissed her neck as she unbuckled my belt. I rolled down her pantyhose and licked her pussy until she was writhing, then I pushed into her and we fucked quickly there on the rug, in front of the door, kissing hard and long as we came. Last week I dropped off one of the kids at a birthday party and stood around for awhile talking to some of the other parents. Wendy Jacobs was there, Mrs. Tamamura, Dot Stevens, a few others. Standing with these busy, competent, hungry, large-souled women, I was very happy. Judy Stratton came in, sent Stephanie off to play with the other kids, gave me a peck on the cheek. "So what are you doing 'til four-thirty?" she asked. "I've got some errands to run," I said, "Nothing really urgent, though." She smelled delicious. Soccer Moms by Mark Aster