Just Keep Swinging - Sex Stories

Just Keep Swinging

... equally fat shaking asses. Or his presentation. He didn't pay much attention to my now overly wobbly fat ass. Thank God for baggy t-shirts and leggings. Keep everything tucked in. I was not often his MILF. Maybe once a month, but only if I was feeling up to it.

Deep down I am still that tall leggy brunette he met in the Loft nightclub all those years ago. Yes, I've just developed curves. I was lucky back then, with a low-cut top, my breasts always made the men stare. It certainly kept his attention over the years. Didn't matter which diet I went on; I kept my assets. I had large breasts. My mom told me they came from her grandmother. Lucky me.

Except now, with quite a bit more weight, they are even larger. I still get the very occasional look in the supermarket. But it does tend to be the elderly men shuffling around who pause and look. Again, lucky me.

At this moment all I knew now was I was going back to hell. I had not picked up a tennis ball in over two decades. I had no reason to. That was my past life.

Back to being a mom. First, I had to find the flier, get the number, and ring up and book. I was not driving across town on the off chance only to find they were fully booked. I called as I hid in the garage just enough time to have another cigarette and then after a glass of water, herded the children in the car.

Chapter 2

The whole process of getting out of the house feels like it takes hours. Toilet breaks, clothing changes, finding socks, the right ...

... socks. Getting two matching shoes on. Forgetting and then remembering the water bottles.

Then finding a coat and running with our hoods up and finally getting in the car. Fighting on which side of the car to go. Oh, for a cigarette. Then before someone had forgotten something we drove off. A few years ago, I would have run back and romantically kissed John goodbye. No need now. He wouldn't appreciate it even if I would. Today I'm yet again grinning through the stress whilst looking in the rearview mirror handing out sweets out of my handbag to keep them quiet whilst I concentrate on driving. The rain feels as if it's falling harder. Was I going back to where I belong?

Tennis was my teenage world. I lived, breathed, and reveled in the sport of tennis. I loved it. Spending time between the tramlines hitting ball after ball.

I sort of fell in love with my friend at the time, Rhiannon, she was the one who, much to my parents' disgust, led me astray. Much to my dad's frustrations. I should be chasing green fluffy balls not men, certainly not women. Playing tennis, not in the pubs.

Taking another large breath once safely parked up in the parking lot, beside us was something like an aircraft hangar sized shed. At least it would be dry inside. I ordered and helped get hoods up, seatbelts undone and get everyone dodging the Marianas trench deep puddles as we ran across to the front door.

The sound of shouting and screaming children, followed by that undeniable smell of ...