Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author Note: OK, story two for me...lesbian theme.  Enjoy, as always.

   Find all of my stories here:
/files/Authors/charlietwobeans
========================================== I was walking across the soccer
field toward the car with my two oldest kids, chit-chatting about this and
that, looking forward to a relaxing end of the day.  As we approached the
parking lot we came upon the softball fields and my son said to me "I
thought you said girls played softball and boys played baseball?"

   "Yeah, that's normally the way it goes, why?" I replied.

   "Well, because look - there are guys and girls playing on that team over
there."

   I looked over at the group gathering to play and instantly realized that
I was about to enter a topic of conversation I was hoping to avoid for at
least another year or two.  "No sweetie, those are all girls...or women,
actually.  Its just, well, some women like to dress and act a certain way
that...well, kinda makes them look a little like boys".

   Wow, was this uncomfortable.  How do you explain the terms 'butch' and
'dyke' and 'lesbian' to a couple of pre-teen kids?  I mean, honestly, there
were a ton of them gathering on the field, and it was not easy to ignore.
My town seemed to have no shortage of them, for whatever reason, but it had
never bothered me before.  But now, having to try and explain this in some
rational way to the kids was leaving me flustered and at a loss for words.

   As I continued to stare at the group and consider how best to explain
this all, I suddenly started to realize that the group, almost as a whole,
had turned and was staring back at me.  'oh fuck' I thought, 'I'm making an
ass of myself staring at them and now they're pissed.' But after shaking
out of my thought cloud after a spell, I realized the staring back was not
so much out of anger as it was ...  what?  lust?  'OMG, they're checking me
out!'

   Now, I must say, this whole "being checked out and hit on" is a bit new
to me.  I was rather plain for most of my life, and only recently got my
act together.  Shedding the mommy weight came the sudden freedom and desire
to start wearing whatever I wanted again.  I turned from a "sweet
30-something Mommy with a pretty face" to, I must admit, a pretty hot MILF
who looked ten years younger than a year ago.  So, yeah, I switched from
wearing oversized shirts and sweats with running shoes to size 4 Lucky
Brand jeans, tight tanktops, heels and ...yes, lots and lots of pretty
thongs.  Yeah, I teased my hair up, tanned my skin, put on makeup and added
glitzy jewelry.  And more often than not, when meeting someone I hadn't
seen in a year or two, they would literally not know who I was.  Quite the
transformation.

   And with that transformation came a fair bit of interest from the
opposite sex, interest I always begged off by saying that I had a wonderful
husband waiting for me at home.  But this, this I didn't expect.  The women
out there on the field seemed to be looking at me like a piece of candy, a
sweet treat they couldn't wait to wrap their lips around.  Needless to say,
this was more unnerving than thinking they were angry at me.

   Just as I suspected that my face could not turn any more shades of red,
I heard from just off to the side and behind me 'Hey you' in this sweet,
lilting voice, dripping with all the familiarity of a long-time friend and
the subtle hint of a fresh new lover.

   I turned to see this lovely, sweet vision of a woman in pink, the slow
setting sun seemingly creating a hazy glow around her.  Top to bottom, she
was sweet and cute, with her pink visor, blonde hair pony-tailed and
popping out of the top, pink and white t-shirt and shorts, and tall white
socks with pink piping tucked into pink and black softball cleats.  Her
bright and shining smile was offset by gorgeous glossy pink lipstick, and
she even had those little strips of black under her eyes, making her,
essentially, "Softball Barbie".

   Her smile never waned as I stared back at her, struggling for
recognition of who this was, until all was interrupted by my young daughter
rushing to her with arms outstretched saying 'Ms.  Norris'.  A-ha, her 4th
grade teacher!  Wow, did she look different when she wasn't wearing her
standard "teacher's outfits".  First off, she was showing a lot more skin,
with her long tanned legs and really soft, smooth skin on her bare arms and
shoulders.  And she looked like she smelled really yummy, not like the
antiseptic and chalk dust aura she had whenever I saw her in the classroom,
but like....well, like cotton candy.  In short, quite the 'babe', if that
was your sort of thing....which, judging by my run through the gauntlet
moments ago, there were lots for whom this was exactly their 'sort of
thing'.

   After getting over the initial embarrassment of not knowing who she was,
we settled down to a quick and easy banter, talking about this and that and
nothing in particular.  When my son pointed out that it was getting late,
Rebecca, 'Ms.  Norris' to the kids, asked if we could stay and maybe watch
some of the game.  I started to beg off, not really caring to sit in the
heat and dying light to watch a bunch of women run around the bases.  But,
with one little pout from Rebecca, I reluctantly agreed but knew that the
kids would have to head home to finish their homework.  So, after a quick
call to my husband and a promise to bring home Chinese food for us later,
the kids were off to the house and I settled into the stands to watch some
'girl-on-girl' action....ok, that's a tease, but I couldn't help it.

   The game was, as I expected, uneventful, though Rebecca tried to make it
fun for me by looking over whenever she could, even giving me a wink when
she was up to bat before smacking a double down the line.  I cheered, I
smiled, I was happy for her as it seemed she was really excited about us
doing something outside of school.  It seemed to me, for whatever reason,
she didn't belong to a large social circle - it seemed that it was this
softball team and the moms she befriended through the school.

   After the game I met her at home plate where she was stripping off her
gear after spending the last innning behind the plate.  She worked slowly,
letting all the other teammates wander off, giving her calls of 'good
game', 'see you next time', and queries about plans for the rest of the
night.  As she sat with her legs stretched out to either side, unclasping
the leg protectors, I got the distinct feeling that she was coyly drawing
me in closer and closer with her smile and with her quiet way of chatting.
She seemed taken with me, enamored with me.

   I ended up sitting on the plate as we chatted, looking out over the
field.  It was then that she said 'those are cute'.  When I turned to see
what she was referencing, I noticed her staring at the thong peeking out
from the top of my jeans.  And by 'staring', I got the sense that she
wanted to see more of what was inside my jeans.  I also happened to get a
really wide view of her panties because her legs were stretched in such a
way that the shorts she was wearing were riding up and causing a gap to
show.  It was the first time I had done such a thing, openly staring up the
shorts of another woman, but I was captivated for a moment by her gray
cotton panties.  Her panties had worked their way up a little too high in
the crotch, revealing one of the lips of her vagina, and the visible parts
of the panties were noticeably damp from sweat...or at least what I
suspected was sweat.

   She noticed what I was doing and slowly but deliberately grabbed one of
the bats and started bouncing it between her legs slowly, giving me a
reason to keep staring in that direction.

   "You know" she said, again with that coy little look behind batting
eyelashes, "you're by far my favorite mom in school.  I mean, you help me
so much with volunteering, and you're really great to talk to.  Your
daughter is a wonderful girl and I am so happy she has been in my class
this year."

   And with that, she slowly got up and said "Well, I should get going...."
She spun around and, bent at the waist, reached to grab her gear and stuff
it in the bag she had nearby.  This gave me yet another, even more erotic
view, of her body as her back arched and her toned legs straightened, and
her apple-bottomed butt pushed out and towards my face.

   "Yeah" I said, as I scrambled to get up and extract myself from this
rather odd, tense situation.  As I started to stroll from the home plate
area, I felt her hand on my ass and thought 'OMG, she IS trying to pick me
up!', but all she said was "Lemme get that dirt off your butt before you
sit in your car."

   As I said 'thanks' I looked her in the eyes and she slowly, seductively
wet her lips by biting gently on the upper lip....and smiled.  I now knew
what it felt like to be in control, to be the one being chased, to feel the
power of holding all the cards.  I had to admit, it was intoxicating.

   But that phrase kept echoing through my head: 'I'm no lesbian'.  Right?
I kept walking toward the car as I had the debate in my head, focused on
resolving it, and soon!  All the while, Rebecca strolled slightly behind
me, occasionally twirling like a sweet little schoolgirl in love.

   As I reached my car, I turned to say goodbye to her, determined to
extricate myself from this situation and go home to my loving husband and
family, but she was so close to me now, so into my personal space, that I
could do nothing but stare into her eyes, breathe her breath, and watch as
she slowly, gently sidled closer and closer to me until our breasts were
touching and our lips were inches from each other.

   She whispered "I just wanted to thank you for watching me.  It was so
much fun" as she leaned up and pressed her lips to mine.  I could feel the
stickiness of her lip gloss pulling on my lips as she pulled away, taste
the faint cherry flavoring lingering on my lips as I reached out the tip of
my tongue to wet them.  Sensing this as a sign of encouragement, which was
not my intent (or was it?), Rebecca pushed forward more and pressed her
lips tighter, and held them longer, against my own.  And as she did this,
her hands grasped my wrists, then released, as if in silent encouragement
to have them explore wherever they wanted.

   At that very moment we heard what could only be considered a wolf
whistle from off in the distance of the parking lot.  It made Rebecca
giggle for a moment and look away, seemingly equal parts embarrassed and
proud that she was seen being intimate with me.  As she turned, she slumped
into me more, resting her head against my breasts so I could smell her
hair. It became natural for me to wrap my arms around her, settling them
around her lower back.  She felt like a little kitten mewling and cozying
into her owner's lap.

   "Would you like to go for a drink?" I asked.

   "OhmggodIwouldlovethat" she mumbled in one soft syllable, still nuzzling
into me.

   We got into my car and I started it up, but I hesitated to move.  I
looked over to her, sitting in the seat, legs akimbo, head down, seemingly
too shy to look up at me.  I reached out to stroke her chin, more friendly
and reassuring than anything else, but she mistook it for something more
(or maybe all along I mistook it for something much less) and she pulled my
hand down along her breasts, over her belly and between her legs, urging me
to press my palm against her....well, ok, against her very warm, very moist
pussy.

   She responded to my touch with a sharp intake of breath, and a thrust of
her hips against the flat of my hand.  I held it there tightly as she
continued to rub against it, masturbating herself with my hand and
shuddering to little climaxes every minute or so.

   Look, I am no lesbian, but this was simply too much to take.  The
eroticism of having this little ball of energy sparking and erupting due to
my hand was intoxicating, and I could think of nothing other than 'how far
can I take this?'

   As the lights to the field and the lot shut down by automatic timer, I
could now only see her by the light of the slivered moon and the glow of
the digital clock on the dashboard.  But I could hear her, smell her, feel
her, and it was an elixir to me.  I roughly pushed my hand inside her
shorts, feeling the need to break the ice and get this hesitation over
with. As I did this, my middle finger grazed against her hard clit and she
literally exploded - gushing fluids and mumbling bumbling words spewed
forth.

   I roughly undid the seatbelts and pulled her towards me, freeing my left
breast from within and pulling her mouth to my nipple.  God how I loved my
nipples played with, like they were attached to every erogenous zone in my
body, and electric shocks sparked in my pussy, my ass, my belly, my
brain....and she was so good with them too, alterating between slavishly
gentle to aggressively vicious - licking, kissing, sucking, biting....it
drove me mad with pleasure.

   I looked at myself in the rearview mirror, sweat on my upper lip,
flushed face, mouth hanging open....and this gorgeous little creature
attached to my nipple.

   'WOH, this is NOT me' screamed somewhere in my head.  I jumped up and
whipped open the door, inside light glaring us in the eyeballs, and pulled
myself out into the dark parking lot.

   'This is not me, not me, not me' I kept repeating to myself.  And then I
looked over to her, in the glare of the car light, head cast down, looking
sad and ashamed and ...vulnerable....and cute......and incredibly
sexy....and I made up my mind that I had to see where this went, had to
taste that forbidden fruit just a little more...

   I reached in and flipped the switch to the dome light, casting us back
into shadows, and began to unbuckle my jeans.  In one swift motion they
were around my knees as I literal stood half naked in this empty parking
lot.  She got the hint very quickly, and crawled over to me and placed her
mouth directly on my pussy, licking me through my panties, sucking me in,
inhaling me.  She rolled over on her back, most uncomfortably, I could
imagine, and begged me to turn and lean over her mouth so I was nearly
sitting on her sweet and luscious lips.  I did the next best thing, peeling
my jeans down one leg to free them, then hitching my thong to one side
(they do come in handy for parking lot trysts, I see), splaying my pussy (I
cannot believe I am doing this) open to her mouth, feeding her my pussy,
inch by inch of it covering her nose, then mouth, then chin.

   God it was heavenly - it felt like nothing I'd ever experienced with a
man.  Nothing rough, nothing aggressive, nothing hard - just soft and sweet
and wet, with her tongue finding places inside me I didn't even know
existed.  She inhaled me, begging me to push harder onto her face, to
envelope her more completely.  She seemed to thrive in this position,
enthralled to be engulfed with a pussy, my pussy, on her face.  I watched
as she furiously rubbed her own pussy, pulling and slapping and teasing it
with expert fingers and hands, making her body buckle rythmically as her
tongue continued its delicious assault on me.

   I quickly reached orgasm, cumming so hard ontop of her I feard I had
sufocated her.  My knees buckeld, my hips thrust forward and I lost my
breath entirely, thighs shaking uncontrollably and ass quivering and
puckering as though hit with a taser.  It was so amazing as I peeled my wet
crotch from her, slipping off of her with a decided slurp, and looking down
to see her eager, pleasing, glistening face just hoping that I had enjoyed
myself and nothing more.

   And goddamn I had.

   I looked at her and said "oh god, I feel bad putting you through
that....it was so selfish of me.  Let me clean you up..."

   But she just smiled, refused so sweetly, savoring the moment and
enjoying the badge of honor of having my pussy stamped on her face.

   I knew then this was not going to be the last softball game I attended.
I loved my little cotton candy jock too much to miss out on it again.
   Did I mention she also plays hockey?