The woman was gorgeous. Not like the hard young bouncy eager girlfriends lounging on blankets, but long, lean, dark, languid, feral. She oozed sexuality in ways he couldn't articulate, pulled him towards her in ways he couldn't understand. She was clearly too old to be somebody's girlfriend, and yet he couldn't believe she was anybody's mother. For one thing she seemed to be with two guys, not to mention a group that included (as far as he could tell) three kids, two old folks, and a dog.

He followed her inconspicuously, a few paces away. Most of the crowd (such as it was) would ebb up and down the sideline with the action, the spectators mixing freely with the subs, so it hardly looked like he was stalking her. If anything, it was she who was stalking, eyeing the players on the field like meat on the hoof. He knew that if he were on the field she'd be looking at him like that.

He wasn't sure if it was his muscles, his little boy face, or his short blond hair, but most women, especially older women, would smile at least a little when they saw him. Usually that was as far as it got. Usually he didn't find himself being anywhere near this forward. Maybe it was the weather. It had rained all morning, but the clouds had disappeared completely by game time and the sun was shining on a cool crisp October afternoon. No, it was her. He watched her, watched her moving in jeans and windbreaker, watched her shiver slightly with the cold, watched her flirt with the men she was with, watched her engage in an occasional conspirital whisper, watched her play with her dog, watched her long dark hair rustling in the breeze behind her, wondered what she looked like naked, pictured her mouth....

He shook himself. He was supposed to be paying attention to the game. He turned just in time to witness an especially hard tackle, bodies flying, grunts of pain. He heard her gasp, say something about the risks of injury. He turned back, and smiled at her. "It's really not as bad as it looks" he heard himself saying "I kept telling my mother it was safe, but she never believed me."

She smiled at him. She had an incredible smile. He could see the emotions in her eyes: surprise, motherly protection, lust. She flicked her tongue and bit her lip for a microsecond before answering and introducing herself. Suddenly they were chatting, walking up the sideline together, discussing the game. She looked back over her shoulder and gave a little wave to the guy she'd been standing with before the dog pulled her ahead on the leash.

He loved walking with her. She was so comfortable. He couldn't be. If somebody got hurt he would be the first one in. He was torn between her and the game, but as the clock wore down he began to relax; nobody was hurt, and it looked like they were going to win. He started to concentrate on her nearness, on the strong urge he had to touch her, on the way her hand brushed against him as they walked. A couple of times he thought she was checking out, and possibly even feeling, his ass. He watched her face up close, the twinkle in her eye, the crinkle of her cheek, the funny little expressions that darted across her mouth. He was getting hard in spite of himself. Suddenly the whistle blew. The players on the field were celebrating. She leaned in to him. "Can you take your jersey off now?" she whispered.

He nodded, wondered why, but not for too long, stripped it off quickly, put it in the equipment pile, ran to catch her. She was was way ahead of him, back with the guy she'd waved to earlier. She was handing the guy the dog's leash as he reached her. He heard her say, "cover for me" and then she was motioning for him to follow, walking briskly over a rise of ground to the parking lot. On the field they were starting to shake hands. He wondered what the hell was going on, where they were going, whether anyone would notice they were gone.

Her car beeper was out, she was unlocking a van with dark windows, looking around, urging him in through the side door, pulling it shut behind her, pushing him down onto the back seat, on top of him, kissing him, hands pulling at his shorts, on his cock, tongue in his mouth, sliding down, shorts down, cock out, her mouth...

"Oh my God." Never in his nineteen years had he experienced such a sensation. She was sucking him deep into the vortex of the Universe. Into the dark of eternal light and the brightness of eternal day. He was one with all. His cock was all. His cock was the center of Creation and her head was bobbing eagerly, obscenely, on his cock. She looked at him, licked the head, tickled his balls with her fingertips, swirled her tongue around the shaft, and plunged back down again, down and up, drawing him out. He could feel it rising from his toes, could see her through a haze of lust and ecstasy, a bitch in heat, her hand down the front of her unzipped jeans, frigging herself mercilessly as she blew him. It felt like forever, and yet he knew it had only been seconds, seconds from barely hard to total, total, total, total, he was stuck, stuck in a loop, a loop of coming. He exploded. Into her mouth, onto her face. She took it all, licking the stray bits from around her mouth, rubbing the rest into her skin with her hands. She stared deep into his eyes, rose up, kissed him again. "Thank you." she said. "Thank you thank you thank you." She pulled his shorts back up, gave his cock one last loving squeeze, checked her appearance in the rearview mirror, peered out the windows to make sure nobody was coming, and climbed out of the van.

He lay, dazed, watching her.

She smiled again, almost motherly. "Give me a second before you start back," she ordered gently, "and go up the hill that way." Then looking around one more time she leaned in, kissed him again, and strode away up the hill, leaving him to close the door and wander back to his team, disoriented and changed forever.