Serena and the Soccer Mom

by

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa, Lesbian, Interracial, Black Female, White Female, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Sex Toys, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Black butch seduces a little blonde married woman at the beach.



(In a previous story I introduced Serena and made mention of an incident that happened while she was on vacation at the beach. Several people have asked me to relate that story. I'm sorry its taken so long to get to it.

I finished rubbing the oil over my legs and stretched out on my blanket. I had lowered the canvas chair, adjusting it to the point where it supported only my upper body. I wiped my hands clean on a towel, picked up my book and slipped my sunglasses back on.

The sun felt wonderful on my body. Some people might consider the suntan oil a waste of money. But anyone of any skin shade can burn. I liked the way it accented my ebony skin. Besides, the simple act of running my hands over my body drew a great deal of attention to me, and that I didn't mind at all. Sooner or later I expected the attention would be from someone I would be interested in.

I smiled a secret little grin as I looked down over my body. I was already glistening slightly from my workout over at the "Muscle Beach" area. Interestingly, the guys over there recognized and accepted me for who I was, a middle-aged black butch in top shape. There were no unwanted passes and complimentary comments were just that, compliments not intended to try to flatter me into bed. Oh, I was sure that the ones interested in females enjoyed the fantasy of bedding me, in the same way I enjoyed the fantasy of bedding a straight woman. There was a difference of course. I had bedded more than one "straight" woman in my lifetime.

I glanced around. Peeking over the tops of my sunglasses. I was drawing attention all right. Admiring glances were being shot at me by several others laying nearby as well as a number of passer-bys. The trouble was that so far all were males, except for one teenage girl who sported enough tattoos and piercings to put Captain Jack Sparrow to shame. Not my type at all.

I acknowledged that perhaps I wasn't coming across as completely butch, which I am. I was wearing a very small, very daringly cut bikini. But after all, what WAS I going to wear on the summer beach, my lace-up boots and the overalls I wore when metal-sculpting? I'm butch, but I'm also a woman.

I squirmed against the chair propping me up. Regardless of what happened, or didn't happen, this little vacation was just what the doctor ordered. I had been working pretty much non-stop for over a year. I hadn't been dating, not for real. Oh, occasionally I had hit the lesbian clubs in the city where I lived and had my shop. I had also occasionally brought someone home. But, to be honest, all I had done with those little lesbian femmes was fuck them and forget them as soon as they were out the door the next morning. They all blended together into one faceless blur. Months ago I had stopped even that. I just wanted something different.

I returned to reading. I would be taking a University art class beginning in the fall and had picked up the course textbook. Granted, it didn't cover my two major interests, Sapphic and African art, but there was an interesting chapter on modernism that was already making me think about a couple of possible new pieces. I continued to be aware of my surroundings though. That was how I noticed that a blonde woman about 25 meters away was surreptitiously giving me the once-over. Perhaps it was the twice-over.

I pushed my sunglasses back up, the better to unobtrusively examine her while she did the same to me. Early/middle thirties, an hourglass figure that threatened to pop loose any moment from the two piece suit that was doing a remarkably poor job of restraining her curves. Full breasts and a generous bottom. The soft swell of her stomach was explained by the two children who squabbled next to her.

I looked closer. She really wasn't hard to peg. Standard suburban soccer mom with two early teens, one girl and one boy. Possibly with a part-time job, possibly stay-at-home. I've never wanted children myself, but I acknowledge what a tremendous task it is being a mother. I suspected that like so many of her type, she was pouring her energy into them, into the husband who was presently ignoring her to watch the young females in their bikinis and into her home. She never took the time for herself. Those few extra pounds, although I found them attractive, showed she never had the time or energy to work out. She probably tried to diet but was always breaking it at the worst times.

I set my book down. Removing my sunglasses, I slowly scanned the entire area. She looked away as my gaze neared her. I waited, my eyes on her, until she thought I had looked past her. When she peeked again, my eyes met hers and locked.

I didn't do anything but look at her. I didn't make any gestures, lick my lips, or anything. I simply stared into her eyes until she flushed and looked away. I smiled to myself, replaced my sunglasses and leaned back again.

She must have decided that it was time to go. She kept shooting sideways glances as her brood gathered up beach blankets and coolers and all the rest of the paraphernalia a family brings to the beach. I teased her for a moment, pretending to have completely forgotten her and her watching me until they started up the beach. Then I rose, stretched up on my toes and flexed my body, twisting back and forth to get the kinks out. Still not paying attention to her now wide-eyed appraisal, I strolled on a course that intercepted them at the open showers where everyone was rinsing the salt water from their bodies.

"Pardon me," I murmured as I slipped beside her, blocking her slightly from everyone else. As the cold water ran over us, I casually turned and brushed the tips of my fingers along the curve of her ass cheek. I smiled to myself at the smothered gasp and proceeded to walk up the boardwalk to the hotel without looking back. I could feel her eyes on me.

That evening after dinner, I sat out on the hotel veranda listening to the crash of the waves out in the darkness. Music came from the nightclub attached to the hotel. A warm wind tossed the branches of the trees separating the hotel from the beachfront. I was comfortable in khaki slacks and a loose men's shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I had one foot braced on the porch railing and rocked my chair slowly.

I heard the screen door to the hotel creak but didn't turn around. I sensed someone sitting down, leaving a couple of chairs vacant between us. I didn't speak, continuing to rock. Finally I heard a throat clear beside me and turned to look.

It was her, of course, my little blonde soccer mom from the beach. She was wearing a bright yellow sundress and flip-flops. The dress was tight on her full body and I could see her nipples through the thin material.

I continued to rock for a moment, then stopped.

"Where are your children?"

"At a pool party the hotel organized."

"And your husband?"

"He had to go back to the city. There's a crisis at work he had to handle." She tried to sound proud of his responsibilities, but came across as disappointed.

I nodded. I waited a minute or two longer before I stood up, picking up a folded beach blanket from the chair on my other side as I rose. I walked to the steps that went to the path that disappeared into the darkness and down to the beach.

"Come on." I told her.

She blushed. I knew what she was thinking. Was she that obvious? To me she was. I was willing to bet large amounts of cash that she had experimented a bit with a friend "back in the days". Probably the usual, practicing kissing with another girl. She had never let it go any further than that, perhaps with just a tiny bit of touching. But she thought back on those days on occasions and wished she had gone further. She really had no idea how to know if any of her female neighbors or coworkers felt the same as she did. But me, well, it was pretty damn obvious who I was. But she really had no idea how to come on to me.

Normally I'm all for a bit of seduction, especially with a straight woman. Tonight I put that aside. My soccer mom had screwed her courage to the sticking place, and talk would do nothing more than just scare her off. I locked eyes with her and held out my hand.

Five minutes later we had made our way down the trail to the beach and we were safely tucked in the dunes, out of sight from any casual passer-by, the bright moonlight illuminating us. I released her hand long enough to spread the blanket out on the sand. Then I turned back to her and took both her hands in mine.

"I don't know what I'm doing here," she whispered. "You didn't ask me. You just told me. I didn't even answer you."

"I didn't wait for an answer because you would have tried to stammer some excuse. I knew you really wanted to come, but you would talk yourself out of it, if I allowed you. So I didn't." I stepped very close to her. She didn't move back, her eyes wide with uncertainty, but also with a touch of excitement. An excitement that I saw grew stronger with each passing moment.

I pulled her into my arms and kissed her. My hands ran down her back, hiking her skirt up around her waist. She was wearing panties that were no more than a scrap of lace. I gripped the roundness of her ass and yanked her hard to me, even as my mouth locked onto hers. I felt more than heard her moan as she felt the strength of my arms and the hardness of my body. I rubbed my midsection against her and her eyes opened wide as she felt the hardness of the strapon concealed in my slacks.

.... There is more of this story ...

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