My husband was always encouraging me to make more female friends, so when my son's soccer coach invited me to get coffee with her, I took her up on it. While Mike drove Justin home after practice, Riley and I walked across the street to Peet's.
She was in her late twenties, a tall, athletic woman with short-cropped blonde hair and a no-nonsense way of talking. Coaching kid's soccer was a side-gig for her. In real life, she was a chemistry grad student at UCLA. We hit it off immediately. It was kind of weird how quickly we clicked. We had the same quirky sense of humor and it wasn't long before we were laughing at each other's jokes.
She told me I didn't seem like the typical soccer mom.
"What's the typical soccer mom?" I asked.
"You know ... 'Karen'-ish, like nothing is ever good enough for them. You've met the other moms on the team. You know what they're like."
"No one has given you any trouble, have they?"
"Not overtly. But sometimes I get the feeling they'd prefer having a guy in charge. I don't think they're entirely on board with having a woman coach their little darlings. It's not like I haven't been playing soccer since I was eight."
"For what it's worth, we think you're doing a great job. Justin is having a ball."
"
We
think ...?"
"Mike and me."
"Oh right. Your husband." There was an odd tone to her voice.
It was getting late. Mike texted he was taking Justin to Macdonald's for dinner so there was no rush to get home.
Riley invited me over to her place so we could keep talking. She lived alone in a tiny one room apartment over the garage of a larger house. She parked her Kia in the driveway and led me up the narrow stairs.
There were piles of books everywhere, spilling out of bookcases, stacked on her cluttered desk, even on her bed.
She casually stripped off her tee shirt as we walked through the front door. She was wearing a black sports bra underneath.
Riley lifted one arm and took a whiff of her armpit. "Wow, I'm really rank! I hope you don't mind if I hop in the shower."
"Sure," I said. "No problem."
She kicked off her sneakers and started getting undressed. I couldn't help but watch. She had a boyish, angular body--lean and spare--with prominent ribs and hipbones. Her tits were almost non-existent, but she had dark prominent nipples. Her bush was a messy brown tangle, much darker than the hair on her head.
I'd never really been attracted to other women, but seeing Riley's naked body stirred something in me, and I got the impression she liked me looking at her. She certainly didn't make any effort to cover up.
She vanished into the bathroom, and after a few minutes I heard the shower start. While I was waiting, I studied her bookcases. They were mostly filled with chemistry books with long, opaque titles like
Principles of Stochastic Analysis
, but there were also a few paperbacks and art books mixed in. I took a volume of black and white photographs off the shelf and started paging through it. It was filled with female nudes, ranging from mildly titillating to shockingly explicit.
In one of the photos, a young woman lay on her stomach atop a freshly-made bed. She was looking back over her shoulder at the photographer. Her thighs were open, and her bottom was slightly raised, providing a perfect view of the baroque folds of her sex.
I heard the click of the bathroom door being opened.
"Find anything that appeals to you?" Riley said. She was standing in the doorway wearing nothing but a towel, her wet hair combed back.
"You have
a lot
of chemistry books," I said.
The floor creaked as she came up behind me. Hurriedly I closed the book of nude photos and put it back on the shelf where I'd found it.
"Why did you invite me here?" I said.
"Isn't it obvious?" Riley said.
"But, I'm not ...."
Riley finished my sentence.
"... a lesbian? I know. I always fall for straight girls. It's like a curse."
"I'm not saying I'm not curious," I said. "I really like you."
"What about your husband?"
"Mike and I have an understanding," I said. "He's cool with ... whatever ... as long as I don't keep any secrets from him."
Riley was standing right in front of me, dripping on the floorboards. When had she gotten so close? My nipples were achingly hard, poking out through the striped fabric of my top. She reached out and tentatively brushed her fingers across them.
"I love your tits," she said. "You're so much bigger than me."
"I think yours are pretty too," I said.
"Like I have tits," Riley said, rolling her eyes.
She bent down and kissed me on the lips. Time stopped. Her mouth was soft and warm and she tasted faintly of toothpaste. I wasn't sure what to do with my hands, so I held them straight down at my sides. Then her tongue was in my mouth and
my
tongue was in
her
mouth. We kissed like that for a long time. My head was spinning. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. We were just supposed to have coffee.
All of a sudden, the towel dropped, falling in a damp heap around Riley's bare feet. I wasn't just kissing a girl anymore--I was kissing a
naked
girl. Riley's hands were holding my shoulders like she was afraid I was going to pull away at any moment. I reached up and touched her cheek--It's okay. I want this too. Encouraged, her hands wandered downwards, touching my sides, my hips, my butt. She grabbed my ass and pulled me in hard against her.
Somehow her knee had insinuated itself between my legs. I was wearing yoga pants and my spandex-covered crotch was pressed tight against the top of her muscular thigh. I rose up on my toes and ground my pussy against her, making little whimpering noises into her mouth.
Riley tugged at my top. "Can this come off?"
I lifted my arms so she could take my shirt off. All I had on underneath was a boring pink cotton bra. I felt like an idiot. I certainly owned prettier bras. I should have worn one of them--something sexy. Something with satin and lace. But when I got dressed this morning, I didn't think anyone else was going to see me in my underwear.
My mother had always cautioned me to put on clean underwear every day "in case you get hit by a bus." She hadn't said anything about unanticipated lesbian encounters with your kid's soccer coach.
I reached around behind my back and unhooked my sad pink bra. Riley slid her hands up under the cups and touched my tits.
"Holy fuck," I said softly.
"You like that?" Riley said.
I nodded. Fuck yeah, I liked that.
She was fondling my nipples, pinching them and rolling them between her thumb and forefinger. Gradually my whimpers turned to moans.
"I'd kill to have tits like this," she said.
I awkwardly reached out and touched her bare breasts as well. This was virgin territory for me. I'd never played with another woman's tits before, and I was afraid I was doing it wrong and said so to Riley.
"Just do what you like to having done to you," she said reassuringly.
Feeling a little more confident, I gently teased her tiny little nips, coaxing them into hard little points.
"Perfect," she said.
She fell to her knees in front of me and started kissing my tits, licking and sucking my tender pink nipples. While she did, I stroked her head. I loved the way her hair felt where the sides were shaved. After a while she started kissing lower, working her way down my tummy, teasing my belly button with her tongue. Her fingers toyed with the elastic waistband of my yoga pants.
"How about it, straight girl?" she said playfully. "Ready to pop your dyke cherry?"
I surrendered to lust and pulled my pants down myself, dragging them down to my knees, pulling my panties down at the same time. I felt cool air on my exposed sex. Holy fuck I was wet.
Riley kissed down my abdomen right to the top of my cleft, pressing her soft lips to my hairless mound. Her tongue darted out of her mouth and slipped into my split, the tip playfully teasing my clit.
"You smell
