There I was sitting in the stands of a roller derby bout. Who would believe it? Me, Alice Watson, a forty year old, mother of two, professional insurance adjuster sitting in the stands at a roller rink amongst the slobs, perverts and general lowest common denominators of society. I felt terribly out of place but I didn't care. It was where I wanted to be. This was on my bucket list for a long time. I had dressed down for the night, wearing just a pair of skin tight jeans and a plain black tank top. I even had a cold beer and a box of popcorn.
I became aware of a heavy set mouth breather with a two keg belly, wearing a NASCAR tee shirt that was too small, a nasty beard with part of his hot dog still in it, staring at me from a few seats down. I was feeling uncomfortable and my skin was crawling. I tried not to look his way but I could still feel him almost drooling. I understood his curiosity. I looked different. I was a healthy, fit woman with high cheek bones, green eyes, and wavy strawberry blonde hair. Even though I had my hair pinned up, loose curls still framed my face with pale skin and a few light freckles. I had a good figure for forty. I ran on my treadmill at home every morning and did yoga to stay in shape. I'm five foot five tall and one hundred twenty seven pounds. I used to be rail thin when I was younger but two kids left me with some curves. Before kids my boobs were a small B cup. After my second kid, my boobs stayed at a C cup and remained that way even with all the exercise.
When the public address announcer started to introduce the teams, the mouth breather quickly lost interest in me as the roller girls distracted him and everyone else. I stood and cheered too at the hot, young, athletic women who skated out in a menagerie of fishnet stockings, hot pants, miniskirts, elbow and knee pads, funky jerseys and tee shirts. Right away, I felt the heat in my crotch, bringing on the dampness with it. The girls all looked so wild and sexy.
Amid the blaring rock music, the announcer began calling out the teams and their very colourful names. The visiting team was called St. Helen's school for wayward girls and were all dressed in some variation of schoolgirl outfits. Their coach was dressed like a sexy nun. The home team was called the Missfits and they wore a hodge- podge of ill matched outfits. There was Vicky Von Doom, Punky Bruiser, Lady MacDeath, Cheap Trixie, Faith Kill, Foxy Balboa, Hel-on Wheels, and my two favourites, Angel Cakes and Death Demona.
Angel and Demona were contrasts to each other. Both girls were tall, super fit and gorgeous with perfect bodies but Angel was blonde, wore a cropped white hoodie and baby pink hot pants. She had pink elbow and knee pads, white skates and leg warmers and a pink helmet that had "I heart Daddy" on the side. She smiled constantly with perfect teeth and blew kisses to the crowd. Death Demona had black hair, high arched eye brows and wore a black cropped hoodie with red hot pants and black stockings. Her pads were spiked black and red and her skates and helmet were red as well with 'Bitch' written on the side of her helmet. She looked angry all the time and stared her opponents down with a death scowl. The two of them were like the angel and devil that sat on your shoulders whispering advice, conscience and temptation. They had me sliding off of my seat.
The jams began and the carnage ensued. It was campy but fun. Headlocks, elbows, hip checks, spitting, girls taunting one another, speedy jammers, whip moves were all part of the roller derby glory. Angel just finished a scoring jam and was waving and blowing kisses to the cheering crowd when an opponent took a cheep shot at her, pulling her down by her long blonde hair. Death Demona raced over and put the schoolgirl in a head lock and started punching her face in. The referees stepped in and broke it up. Both girls went to the penalty box but the schoolgirl went with a bloody nose.
How did I end up in that campy environment? I was a respected professional, a former PTA chairwoman, university educated after all. A couple of months ago, I wouldn't have been caught dead there. That was before the fall out at home. Sure, I was no saint myself. I had a hidden wild side but I had kept it bottled up for the sake of my family and my marriage. I had always been horny and adventurous as long as I could remember but I wasn't much to look at back in high school. I was a late bloomer. Back then I couldn't give it away. When I went to college, things changed. I changed. Suddenly, boys were interested and I slept with as many of them as I could back then. I liked to experiment too. I really loved sex. That earned me a reputation and no guy would respect me or call me for a second date. I was twenty when I met Bill at school and he was genuine and nice. He called me back and before long we were dating steady. I got pregnant during junior year and we got married shortly after our girl, Emily was born. I still managed to finish school.
Bill and I both got good jobs and settled down in the suburbs with a nice house. We had our second child, Jeffrey a year later. I had some complications at birth and the doctors told me, I couldn't have any more kids so I had my tubes tied. After that it was years of being a perfect wife and mother.
I never lost my desires or my lust. My husband Bill has been a lucky man. I seemed to always be the one to initiate sex. I tried to keep it spicy with role play, lingerie, and dirty talk. I even persuaded him to fuck my ass. I often dropped hints that I was up for a threesome or more some. If I caught him looking at a woman while we were out in public, I'd tease him by saying, "She's hot honey. Do you want me to see if she's game for a three way?" I had always found other women attractive and sexy and I fantasized about sex with them often. I had only ever kissed with another girl while drunk in college. I'll never forget that and have always wanted more. But my husband would have none of that.
Bill liked me to be the good wife. He wanted me to be respectable. He had no desire for us to be a swinging couple. So life went on and my fantasies and desires stayed my own. It wasn't until my fortieth birthday that I finally broke. Our sex life was so slow and so dull. Bill hardly showed any interest in me anymore. I worked out to stay fit and look good but it made no difference to him. Lots of other guys showed their interest though. When Bill was away on a business trip one weekend and the kids were both away, I went out for a drink alone and didn't wear my wedding ring. It didn't take long for a strange man to buy me a drink. We chatted for a while and I lied about my name and marital status. After two drinks we were up in his hotel room and I was riding his fat cock.
The genie was out of the lamp then. I gave into my desires. A younger black guy was eying my legs while I was on the subway. I smiled at him and raised my skirt over my knee. He licked his lips. I got off at his stop and took him into the men's bathroom at the subway station. I sucked him off in a toilet stall in just under five minutes. No names were exchanged. Still, it wasn't enough. I was very discreet because I didn't want my family to suffer and I still loved Bill despite our slow sex life. I didn't want him to get hurt. Our sex life actually improved after that.
Maybe it was my guilty feelings or just my amped up sex drive but I fucked my husband every chance I could. I even got him, reluctantly of course, to make a sex tape with me. We had a digital camcorder for recording our son's football games. When we were alone one night, I had Bill set up the tripod and camcorder. I wore some sexy lingerie and brought out my inner porn star. I acted my slutty best, talking dirty, moaning loudly, sucking, riding, begging for Bill's cock in all my holes. I even finished him off by jerking his cock onto my face. He provided a big messy load and I smiled at the camera as I licked off all his salty sauce. Of course Bill told me that he preferred the "real" me over the woman I was on the tape. Disappointed, I went along with it and said I just acted that way for the film. For his sake, I still played his good little wife.
