Just Keep Swinging - Sex Stories

Just Keep Swinging

... stale sweat permeated the building. The same smell from your old gym bag that just makes you gag. We queued up. The children were soon disappointed it was not soft play.

I said it was just fun and games. Something I used to do when I was their age. That instantly got an eye roll. It's moments like that, you know they are yours. I was then extremely lucky that Timmy saw one of his school friends, and they were both off, shouting and running after each other with Jo in tow.

I spied the coffee counter and headed that way, there was a little viewing platform where the moms and dads were congregating along with bored siblings.

Grabbing a coffee, I shuffled over to the veranda and looked down at the four blue indoor courts. The bright white lines separating them were large white nets. However, on this occasion they were all pulled back. Giving the children the full run of the hall. The kids were loudly running around shouting and screaming as they moved in circles as the yellow balls flew and bounced everywhere and anywhere. Shivering, I slurped my coffee. They played games for a while. There were balls being hit everywhere and the children running around in circles. It all brought back memories of my youth. It was then I noticed that I was being waved at, my children beside the instructor as he beckoned me to come down. Just another five minutes of peace to finish my coffee, that was all I wanted. John was getting a whole two hours. He owed me big time.

Wincing after ...

... downing the coffee and heading down over to the side of the court. I first took in the instructor. I mean standing there taking a breather from jogging across, I couldn't do anything else. It was as if my feet felt as if they had been concreted to the spot. He was properly fit. Must have been at least half my age. His thighs were as big as mine. In contrast his were made of pure rippling muscle. Rather than my fat wobbling chocolate cake and biscuits variety. He was handsome and stunning. I contemplated that at that very moment my children were definitely taking up tennis. I would turn up every Saturday to watch him move. Even if the children didn't. His pert buttocks in his tight shorts were like a pair of tasty looking cupcakes.

"Your children have said their mom used to play." His smooth face and chiseled jaw were going up and down and there were words coming from his lips as he handed me a spare racquet. I was not really listening.

I was genuinely panicking, I was wishing that I put a sports bra on, rather than my old gray rainy day sitting on the comfortable sofa- one. It was perfect for standing there watching tennis, not playing it. I was worried if I bounced too much, would they fall out? My equally large, stretched panties were just about holding my excessive buttocks in place. I was grateful I had put my old sneakers on. I would not be doing this in heels. I was still trying to find an excuse. There were none coming. Could I pop outside for a quick smoke? No, I ...