I was an instructor at a tennis club, and for several weeks I had been noticing a mother bringing her son to the club for lessons from another instructor there. The son, an eight-year old, was a first rate young tennis player with lots of potential. Plus, he had will and stamina. His mother would bring him at noon two days a week when he had no school in the afternoon, and pick him up early in the evening. Or another mother, whose son was a friend of her son's and who played doubles with him, would pick them both up later.
The mother intrigued me. There was something a little sad about her, something suggesting unfulfilled longings. She was actually quite attractive but she wore plain clothes that did little to highlight her good looks and her supple, shapely body. Her short hair may have been cut by a man's barber rather than by stylist.
And, as I've said, she seemed somehow discontented, with that look in her eyes that made me think something was missing from her life.
Her name was Ellen, I knew, and I had spoken to her a couple of times when I happened to be with the instructor who taught her son.
One afternoon Ellen dropped her son off and, rather than immediately departing the club, as she usually did, I saw her standing by the club entrance, waiting. Then I heard her explain to a club employee that her car wouldn't start and that she had called a cab.
"Which way are you going?" I asked her.
She was going in the same direction as I was. In fact the bedroom community where she lived was right on the way to my place.
"I'll give you a lift," I told her.
"Oh, that would be swell, they said the cab would take a little while," she said with a relieved smile.
As I drove her, she seemed to relax. Before, she had always seemed a little tense to me. I also noticed her furtively glancing over at me now, checking me out.
"I've heard you were quite the ladies' man around the club," she said.
"I don't know where I'd get that reputation," I said.
"Oh, it's just the vibes you give off, I think. Women pick up on that sort of thing, they can tell," she said.
"Can you tell?" I asked provocatively
"Yes, I can tell," she said flatly.
"What exactly is it you can tell?" I asked.
"I can tell that if I asked you to take me home and come in and fuck me, you probably wouldn't have any qualms about doing that. You'd do that for me, wouldn't you?" she said.
I was stunned, barely able to keep the wheels straight as she said this to me.
"Uh-- I don't know," I said, not wishing to be a pushover.
"Oh, sure you would," she said confidently, and, of course, she was right!
Neither one of us said anything for a moment.
"But I can't," she said. "I can't ask you to come up after you drop me off and fuck me. Because my home is where my husband fucks me. And so fucking another man there is out of the question."
So she had obviously thought about this before, and probably done it.
"And if you're going to suggest that we might go back to your place, don't. As long as I'm still married I feel weird about going to a guy's place. I prefer neutral territory for that kind of thing."
Hmmmmmmm, she
had
done this kind of thing before, it was now clear.
"Neutral territory?" I probed.
"Yeah, there's a little motel down a side street we're going to come to soon," she said, looking at me meaningfully.
"And are you suggesting we make a little rest stop there?" I asked.
"We could," she said, now gazing directly into my eyes as I glanced at her.
"Been to that motel before?" I probed again.
"Not that one, but ones like it," she said, frankly.
"Sure," I said, cool and casual. "I got some time to kill."
"Good," she said, with a slight smile. "It's right over there, the next left."
I turned down a side street and in a few blocks we came to this nondescript motel.
"Here. You don't mind getting the room, do you?" she said, taking a wallet from her purse and handing me a hundred dollar bill.
"Sure," I said, a little uncomfortable now, feeling like a paid stud or something.
But I got us a room and came back to the car with the key. And then me and Ellen went inside. She had put on a pair of sunglasses, and quickly moved the few feet from our parking spot to the room, with her head down.
Now we were inside a very ordinary motel room. Ellen immediately drew the shades, knowing that for what we were here to do the shades had to be drawn.
I felt a little strange. There was no prelude, no seduction. There was something so businesslike about this. And it was a little off-putting to me.
We gazed at each other for a moment and then she pulled off her sweater. No bra, just a pretty pair of tits met my gaze.
I knew virtually nothing about her or why she was doing this. Did her husband fail to arouse her and did she need to get her satisfaction from other men? Was she getting back at him for something else? Did he lose interest in her and was she feeling rejected? Did she learn that he had been fooling around on her and now wanted to get back at him by doing the same thing?
All these were possibilities, but Ellen didn't seem like she was in any mood to reveal much of her motivations for asking a man she didn't know to take her to a seedy motel and fuck her.
Now she unzipped her skirt, and took that off, her slip along with it.
I matched her by taking off my pants and shirt. Her eyes immediately glanced down to the crotch of my briefs. Obviously that's what she was interested in now.
"I haven't done it in weeks," she confessed.
I had picked up this cutie pie at a dance club the previous night, so I had done it about twelve hours ago.
Now she took off her panties. She had a terrific body, which one would have a hard time telling from the clothes she wore.
"Let's take these off now," she said, pulling off my briefs for me, staring at my cock, which was already fat and meaty, though not yet erect.
"That looks like a nice one," she said, smiling and warming up a little.
She took my hand and dragged me to the bed, both of us tumbling down on it. She didn't bother to kiss me or anything, which I didn't really expect, just taking my cock in her hand and sliding her body down towards it. Two seconds later she had my cock in her mouth and was sucking it.
As soon as she got me nice and hard she fell back on the bed and spread her legs.
"Okay," she said, giving me the go-ahead to fuck her.
"How about if I have something to eat too?" I suggested.
"Sure, if you want to," she said, as though most men she did this with were happy enough to plunge right in without any oral preliminaries.
I brought my face between her legs and looked at her pussy. Then I dug in with my tongue and ate her up. Now this she seemed to like, moaning and running her fingers through my hair as I gave her some nice, slow head.
"Okay, that's enough," she said a little impatiently after awhile. "I want you inside me now."
I slid it into her cunt and began fucking her. She definitely wanted it, but there was something about her that was still distant, that kept her from really enjoying it. I can go forever and so I really socked it to her, fucking her like this and then in several other positions. But after a half hour of solid hammering she still didn't give any signs of being close to climaxing. Some women, I knew, just don't have orgasms, or don't have them with guys the first few times they do it with them. Or have them very rarely and with great difficulty.
"Don't worry about me, I never get off," she confessed. "But I like it, what you're doing to me, fucking me nice and hard, being inside me."
And now there was actually a trace of tender vulnerability in her expression and her voice.
"Is there anything special I can do to help get you off?" I asked.
"You're very sweet. But no, it's okay, that's just the way I am," she explained, a slightly sad look on her face.
I started to pull out of her, figuring I'd take a break.
"No," she said, holding me inside her. "I want you to get off; I want you to cum inside me. I like that."
