Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 

   This material is copyright, 2010, by Uther Pendragon.  All rights
reserved.  I specifically grant the right of downloading and keeping one
electronic copy for your personal reading so long as this notice is
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comments or requests, please e-mail them to me at nogardnePrethU@gmail.com
. All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public
figures in the background, are figments of my imagination.  Any resemblance
to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

   Soccer Mom Uther Pendragon nogardnePrethU@gmail.com MF wl

   [midmorning]

   "Girls," Pat called up the stairs, "hurry up, or you'll be late for
practice." Ginnie clattered down almost immediately.  Once seated at the
table, she splashed milk onto her cereal and started to gobble it up. 
Trish, who felt that 16 was too old to clatter -- or, for that matter, to
obey her mother's orders -- followed two minutes later.  She, however,
poured her milk cleanly without a drop hitting the table.

   Hearing Dan on the stairs, Pat poured his coffee.

   "Bless you," he said when she handed it to him.  He handed back an empty
cup before sitting down.  She poured him a second before sitting to finish
her own cereal.  Dan didn't eat breakfast on Saturdays; coffee was enough
for him.

   Two "'Bye, mom's" and Dan's "Love you" and kiss later, Pat was alone. 
She sipped her coffee while enjoying the peace.  Then she cleaned up the
kitchen table, rinsed the dishes, and put them in the dishwasher.  She went
back upstairs, carrying a kitchen timer.  She inserted her diaphragm,
stripped off robe and nightgown, and was lying back in bed under the covers
when she heard Dan return.

   He shaved and stripped in the bathroom.  When he came in, he dived under
the covers.  She turned on her arm to kiss him.

   "Not all that cold," she noted approvingly.

   "I used a hot washcloth on my face and hot water on my hands." He
touched her shoulder.  She moved her hands down his arm to his hand.

   "Okay." He drew his hand up her arm to her shoulder.  Then it caressed
down to her breast.  She caught the sheet and pulled the covers over them.
His hand was still a little chilly.  Maybe that was why her nipple
responded so rapidly.

   "You're still a sexy lady."

   "I have a sexy husband." And he was sexy.  Wherever his desire came from
(and the forward on Trish's team was a very hot senior), he'd brought it
home to her.  As she turned towards him, he trailed his fingers -- warmer
now, or maybe her bottom was less sensitive -- along her bottom.  "I love
your fingers." This was the only time in the week they could talk.

   "I love your ass."

   She fell back but raised and spread her knees.  His hand flowed down the
outside of her thigh to the knee.  As it stroked back up the top of her
thigh, his kisses trailed down her throat.  He kissed a trail up the breast
towards the peak.  When he passed his hand between her legs, she rolled
towards him enough for him to get a grip on one buttock.

   "I really love your ass," he said before he filled his mouth with the
tip of her breast.  His tongue licked her nipple as he clenched and relaxed
his hand on her bottom.  Her fingers combed the hair on his chest as her
passion rose.  When she wanted more direct stimulation, she started
tickling his nipples.  "Pat," he said.  He let go of her bottom to trail
his fingers across the bottom of her delta.  Soon, one finger parted her
labia to stroke her moisture up towards, but short of, her clit.  He
repeated the stroke, sometimes getting nearer, never reaching it.  She
needed the touch, but -- she realized -- she needed the teasing, too. 
Finally, her patience wore out.

   "Dan, please."

   His next stroke reached the clit, and she felt the heat rush through her
torso.  The heat from the next strokes went further, soon reaching fingers
and toes.  She was no longer cold, was so hot that she'd have thrown off
the covers if she weren't too busy simply feeling.  Though his hand kept
the same slow -- too slow, she now thought -- pace, the heat throbbed
within her more and more rapidly.  Finally, she couldn't take this, either.


   "Dan!" She reached down his torso to her rescue from this teasing.  She
felt it fat in the fingers of both hands.  Then, when he started to move
above her, she stretched her right leg down flat and held it hard in her
right hand.  Her left hand replaced his on her labia.

   "Put it in," he said.  She spread the lips with her left fingers while
she placed it between them with her right.  "Yes," Dan said as he drove
into her.  He stayed there, pressed deep for one instant.  "So wet, so
warm, so soft."

   "So hot," she responded, "so hard." She tightened around it to feel the
firmness deep within herself.  Dan drove in and out.  Her feelings, high
and hot already, spiraled upward.  Suddenly, she broke through.  Her mind
was flooded with light.  Her body was flooded with heat.  She felt herself
clutch around him again and again.

   "God!" Dan yelled.  She could feel him pulsing within her softer
quivers. He strained above her, and then collapsed.  She clasped him in her
arms.  She could hear his gasps, maybe her own.  "You," he said when he
rolled them onto their sides, "are the greatest."

   "No," she said, "you are." She was finally cooling, and she freed one
arm to rearrange the covers.

   They cuddled together until the timer rang.  Dan had the delivery; she
had the pickup.  She douched, not wanting Dan oozing into her panties while
the girls were in the car.  She showered and dressed.  Then, downstairs,
she was careful to wear a scarf and a warm parka.  Before she got to the
field, the heater had warmed the car.  Between that and her own
acclimation, she was warm enough to open the parka.

   Several cars had got there before her, but no players were visible yet.
When she saw the first of the high-school team, she shifted over in the
seat.  Trish got in the driver's seat.

   "Hi, mom." Well, it was better than nothing.  It wasn't really a 'thank
you.'

   "Hi yourself.  How did it go?"

   "Practice.  How could practice go: I got four goals.  Tremendous in a
game.  What it means in practice is that Helen's off her game." Helen was
the team goalie.  One part of practice was giving all the other players
shots on goal.  "Where's Ginnie?" She reached for the key.

   "Turn that on, and you'll not touch it for a month."

   "You protect her so.  It wouldn't hurt her to walk home once.  It would
teach her to be on time."

   "I can remember when your eyes were blue." Instead of the green-eyed
monster she was embodying now.  Trish huffed but didn't say anything.  Then
they both spotted Ginnie.  She ran to the car, having recovered from two
hours of practice in a few minutes.  She clambered in the back and attached
her belt.

   "Buckled," she said.  "Mom, they won't let me go into the high-school
team." At thirteen, she was the star of her team and wanted to advance. 
Ginnie saw rules as personal impositions.  As long as the league was
forbidding it, Pat kept silent about what she would say.

   "That's smart," Trish said.

   "You're just jealous.  I'm a better player than you are."

   "Not yet.  You're star of your team, forward.  You'd be an ordinary
player on the HS team.  You'll be on the team in a couple of years.  Then,
you'll really be a better player than I am.  And I'll still be around."

   Pat wanted to tell Trish to keep watching the road, but she was.  She
was talking to the windshield -- not the back seat.  Trish got them home
safe and sound, no accidents, no close calls, no traffic violations.  She
even stopped completely at stop signs in empty intersections, something Dan
and Pat neglected even when they should have remembered that the girls were
watching.

   "You shower first, Ginnie.  I need to talk with Mom."

   "Okay, but she'll never let you drive by yourself when I'm in the car."
Ginnie ran to the house.

   "I can remember teaching that girl to walk.  Sometimes I think she's
forgotten how."

   "You guys think you're so cute," Trish responded, or didn't respond. 
Pat couldn't figure out who else was in 'you guys.' Ginnie because they
both didn't want Trish driving her without an adult in the car?  Dan for
the same reason?  Well, teen drivers were scary; she wasn't going to risk
her entire family on the chance of one teen's obeying the laws unwatched.

   "Think I don't know what you do when we're both at practice?" That
clarified everything.  Dan was the other 'guy'; sex was being 'cute.'

   "Actually, we think you and you're sister are cute.  I stopped being
cute long ago.  Your father is distinguished.  He was handsome when I
married him; look at the album.  I would never have called him 'cute.'"

   "You're changing the subject." Trish, in this mood, owned the subject as
well as the floor.

   "I can remember having the talk with Ginnie -- telling her where babies
come from.  Did I forget to tell you?" Not that she could bring herself to
be as explicit as sex-ed was these days.

   "I know where babies come from."

   "Then it is remarkably silly to object to your parents having sex.  If
we hadn't, no Trish."

   "That was then."

   "Well, some religions are supposed to teach that the only reason for sex
is to have kids.  The UCC isn't among them.  Are you going to change your
denomination and tell us that we should have stopped after Ginnie was
conceived."

   "Before!" They smiled at that.  Trish, thank the Lord, could see humor
even when she was being a prude."If it's not wrong, how come you do all
this elaborate stuff so we'll both be away?"

   "We really don't." Could Trish be aware of the sex when she was gone but
not when she was asleep?  "You know, when you go into the bathroom and turn
on the shower, your father hears and knows you're taking a shower."

   "So?  I know when anyone else is, too."

   "So, you'd be terribly embarrassed if he went in and watched you."

   "Ewww!"

   "Same thing.  Sex is something to do in private, not 'cause it's dirty
or wrong, but because it's private between two people."

   "You tell me not to."

   "I got married after graduating from college.  I conceived a baby after
I got married."

   "Really?  I thought I was born three years. . . ."

   "After, not right after.  But, if you get married after you graduate
from college, I'll not ask whether you have sex every night of your married
life.  I'll not blink at a baby conceived the next day."

   "You keep telling me not to."

   "I never say 'never.' Even if I do, I mean never in your perspective. 
Not this year, not when you're in high school.  I don't mean to turn you
into an old maid forty years from now.  At sixteen, I'd rather you date
forwards than goalies."

   "He should kick me?" Trish was, Pat hoped, keeping her mother's rules
about sex -- however much she bitched about it.  She was making no bones
about breaking her mother's rules about boys keeping their hands off her.
Fair enough.

   "Fine, but whenever you don't want it, scream.  You kick him."

   "Let's go in.  You know Ginnie's going to leave a swamp in the
bathroom."

   The end.  Soccer Mom Uther Pendragon nogardnePrethU@gmail.com

   Thanks to Denny for editing this.

   Another parent dealing with a child at another stage in life: delay.txt
"Forgive the Delay"

   The index to almost all my stories:
/~Uther_Pendragon/index.htm