A Playdate With My Hot Mommy Friend Turned Into a Sexy Sleepover
While my husband was out of town
I am pissed off when my husband informs me he’s headed out of town yet again, this time for six days. It’s the fourth month and his fourth business trip of the year. His job is never-ending, and to be frank, I have occasionally wondered if he’s doing a little more than “business” on these trips, but I’m too afraid to find out.
All I know is that I can’t remember the last time we fucked.
My spirits lift the following day at kickboxing class as my new friend Tanya rushes in ten minutes late and squeezes in to find a spot by me. I’ve only known her for the few weeks that I’ve been doing the class.
The first time I showed up, I hid nervously in a back corner. Tanya noticed me and moved over kindly like an angel of hope, positioning herself slightly in front of me to help me follow the steps.
We get along instantly, in that easy, intimately female way that only mommy friends understand. She’s two years older than me, and we amazingly each have an eight-year-old daughter and a six-year-old son. We’ve been talking about getting together with kids in tow but haven’t made it happen yet.
I discreetly keep my gaze on Tanya as we vigorously punch and kick to the pulsating music while the kickboxing instructor blares his voice at us. It’s hard to tear my eyes away. She has a kind of subtle, sensual beauty, and she moves with an animal-like combination of power and grace, making even kickboxing look weirdly sexy.
Watching her, I distractedly feel a twinge of something like envy mixed with…some other sensation I’m unfamiliar with.
She catches my eye and smiles. I self-consciously blush, embarrassed to be caught staring, but she turns back casually, not seeming to think anything of it. She must be used to the attention, I tell myself.
Somehow, Tanya always looks better than normal while drenched in sweat, and her normal is better than most peoples’ best to begin with.
How does she manage to look so perfect? Are those impossibly perky D-cup tits a gift from the genetic gods or the plastic surgeon? And how does one keep such a tiny waist and shapely ass after giving birth to two children?
I sigh silently, musing about the gods’ blatant discrimination when they hand out looks to us mortals. I try not to catch sight of myself in the studio mirror lest I be tempted to compare my tired mom bod to her fabulous taut physique. Lord, even her hair is beautiful, effortlessly thick and wavy, a light-chestnut ponytail.
The class goes by in a flash after Tanya’s arrival. The music comes to an abrupt stop, signaling the end of the session and rudely breaking my train of thought. I’m conscious of the faint stirrings of disappointment at the hour being over as I uncomfortably acknowledge that I mostly come to this class just to be in Tanya’s radiant presence.
We sit at the Starbucks next to the kickboxing studio at Tanya’s invitation. The conversation flows easily, and we discuss a day and time to finally get our kids together for that playdate.
“How does next Thursday sound,” she asks, checking the calendar on her iPhone.
“Perfect — that’s the day my husband is leaving for his business trip and I hate being alone with the kids,” I tell her. She suggests my kids and I come over to her place; apparently, she has a pool and a big basement the kids can play in. “You’ll love my house — it’s the only good thing my sorry-ass son-of-a-bitch ex-husband ever gave me,” she says. And now I’m curious about her house.
Thursday cannot come soon enough.
I impatiently drop my husband off at the airport on Thursday morning, then rush home to pack our swim things. Tanya has said she’ll make us lunch, but I don’t want to show up empty-handed, so I look around my kitchen for something easy I can whip together for a treat.
I remember a box of strawberries I had in the fridge. I quickly melt chocolate in the microwave, dip the strawberries in and leave them to cool while I get the kids ready.
Pulling up at Tanya’s house with hyper kids, a giant bag of swim gear, and a platter of hurriedly made chocolate-covered strawberries, I gawk a little, maybe a lot. It isn’t exactly a mansion; it’s not even that big, but it is definitely custom-built, in and out. I assume this is all Tanya. Her taste is incredible.
In comparison, everything about me and my life feels a little dowdy and cobbled together.
The kids hit it off right away and disappear to the basement where all the toys are. Tanya laughs and predicts we won’t be hearing from them until they get hungry. I sit at the bar in her kitchen, and we chit-chat as she puts the finishing touches on lunch.
Watching her prepare food, I can’t help but admire how truly stunning she is in her own home, her natural habitat. It’s not simply looks either; she gives off a kind of aura when she speaks and moves that makes her irresistible.
I try to ignore her shapely large breasts, innocently pushing against her tight fitted white tee. Most women with breasts that size would also be saggy, just not Tanya, apparently.
Why am I so obsessed with her breasts anyway? Maybe because I want them for myself?
I wonder if this is what a girl crush feels like.
After lunch, which consists of a vegan (of course, she’s vegan) but surprisingly delicious meal of avocado toast and veggies dipped in hummus that even my picky, non-vegan children enjoy, we’re all ready for some pool time.
I change my kids into their bathing suits in the bathroom, then send them off to wait by the back door while I slip into my own slightly old and boring navy blue one-piece. The kind of thing moms wear to a swim playdate with kids.
I open the bathroom door, and there goes Tanya in a tiny black two-piece, grabbing drinks for the kids on her way outside. I’m fighting the urge to stare.
Her body looks breathtaking.
So does the pool — a fantastic rock and waterfall creation, not your everyday backyard pool.
My children squeal and jump in, followed closely by hers. Thankfully, mine are excellent swimmers for their age, having taken lessons from young.
Tanya and I lay comfortably on deck chairs, sunning ourselves and keeping one eye out for the kids while we trade secrets about husbands and ex-husbands. I honestly can’t remember the last time I have been this relaxed and happy with the kids. Can we just hang out here every day?
At dinner time, I tell Tanya we need to get home, inciting strong protests from all four of the kids. To my surprise, she proposes a different idea.
“Why don’t you guys just spend the night,” she says, “the kids will love having a sleepover, and we moms can have a little wine and watch a movie. It will be so fun, and you guys can borrow our clothes and whatever else you need. I even stocked up on toothbrushes the other day on sale!”
It doesn’t take much to convince me. Who wants to go back to my messy house and deal with my tired, cranky kids alone?
The kids are worn out from all that playtime, so they fall asleep fairly quickly, my two on air mattresses in her kids’ rooms. I’m getting pretty tired myself after a glass of wine, so after the movie, I am more than happy when Tanya suggests we turn in too.
I haven’t thought about where I’ll be sleeping, and I find myself a little nervous yet thrilled when Tanya suggests we should crash in her room together. She has a king-sized bed and mostly sleeps on one side, she says.
We go upstairs to the master bedroom, checking on the kids first. They’re sleeping like the dead.
Her room is on the far end of the hallway upstairs, and it is beautifully, simply decorated in mostly white, with a few accents of black and wood. The bed is inviting, a vast sea of soft white linens. I can’t wait to fall into it.
We brush our teeth side by side in her bathroom, giggling like silly schoolgirls. I haven’t had girlfriend time like this in many years. She asks me what kind of pajamas I want to wear as she is obsessed with pajamas and apparently has a whole collection of them.
I laugh and tell her that I’m nowhere near as fancy as she is — at home, I sleep in just a tee, I say, but she can feel free to hand me anything, and I’ll wear it for the night.
She disappears into her walk-in closet for a few minutes. When she comes out, she quickly tosses a couple of pieces of clothing at me. I have slow reaction time, so I miss, and the pajamas she has picked for me fall to the ground. I bend down to get them, so it isn’t until I stand back up that I see she’s wearing some kind of lingerie — a black, very short lace dress — and it’s sheer in the chest area.
Her long hair falling down in front is the only thing keeping her nipples from showing through.
I’m in shock, but I say nothing. It is not a bad kind of shock, but I wonder why she would wear something like that in front of me. She acts like everything is normal, so I do too. After all, with all that luscious hair hiding it, nothing is really showing.
Wide awake now, I change into the clothes she has handed me, a rather cute pair of red satin short shorts with a little matching tank top that fits me perfectly. She gets my style, I note.
I get into bed awkwardly, wondering what in the world is happening. But after all, nothing happens, and we simply lay far apart, one on each side. The lights are dimmed, and she’s completely and chastely covered up by her duvet. We talk for another thirty minutes or so, and at some point, I drift off.
I stir awake in the middle of the night, forgetting where I am for a moment.
Then Tanya coughs lightly in her sleep, reminding me that I’m in bed with my gorgeous friend. I realize she must be having some kind of coughing fit, and that’s what has woken me up. She coughs again, and I roll over on my side to check on her. In the dim light, I see that the cover has slid down her body, and her hair is fanned out around her, no longer covering her breasts. I am now looking at her fantastic tits in their glory, only slightly veiled by her sheer lingerie. They rise up and down ever so gracefully as she breathes. Her nipples are standing straight up, straining through the thin fabric.
Her lips are slightly parted. They look full and soft.
I can’t help it; I’m instantly horny. The horniest I’ve been in years. All I can think about is covering her mouth with mine and kissing her deeply. I’m bewildered by my reaction but too turned on to care. I place my hand on her shoulder and gently rub it, trying to ignore how silky and warm her skin is under my fingers. Her eyes flutter open, and she turns and looks at me with confusion.
“Tanya,” I say softly, “You okay? You were coughing in your sleep.”
“Hey…I’m good,” she replies, then turns away and coughs once more, “It’s my asthma, sometimes it acts up in the middle of the night. Sorry I woke you up.”
I want to tell her that being woken up is more than worth the feast that my eyes are being served and that she’s welcome to wake me up any time.
I try to push my burning thoughts aside and offer to fetch her water, which she gratefully accepts. She hands me an empty glass from her nightstand, then opens the drawer, retrieves an inhaler and takes a couple of puffs as I walk to the bathroom to fill her glass. She drinks thirstily, then we settle back in bed. But my pulse is racing now. I can hear her breathing, and even the sound of that is making me hot. In the stillness, I turn to face her, and to my surprise, she’s already looking at me, with a sort of half-feral gleam in her eyes that I can see even in the dim light.
She wants me, too.
“Tanya?” I whisper hesitantly.
She understands my question, and holding my gaze, she answers by moving her body close to mine, then reaching out to hold me close in an electrically charged embrace. Her skin is exquisite and her hair smells like strawberries. We are quiet for a moment.
I soak in her essence as I try to process this new and foreign feeling, an utterly wild and curious longing to make love to a beautiful woman. I search myself for any reason to hold back and finding none, I lean in and hungrily press my lips on hers. She accepts me with a sexy little moan and kisses me back, harder than I expect. Juices rush from my now-throbbing, sex-starved pussy. I instinctively throw my leg over her hips as we lay side by side and move my hand down to look for her clit as we kiss each other intensely. I wonder if she’s as wet as I am, and the answer is yes — she’s soaked through her panties. I push the fabric aside, easily finding her, warm and ready for me.
I tug her panties off, then my fingers are reaching for her. She gasps and cries out as I slowly rub her clit with my thumb, then enter her with one finger, then two.
And now I can’t stop myself anymore. I latch my mouth onto her erect nipples on those perky tits—the same ones I’ve been unable to get out of my mind all day — and I lick and suck them ravenously through her thin sheer lingerie as she writhes and groans with pleasure. My fingers continue to work her up intimately and expertly as my mouth and tongue devour her delicious breasts, and I almost implode with rapture as she heaves her entire body, arches her hips, grabs me tightly and lets herself go, shuddering with ragged sighs over and over again.
Before I’m able to reflect on what has just happened, she untangles herself from me, sits up, and whispers, “Your turn…”
She moves toward the foot of the bed, tugs my shorts and panties off, gently opens my legs, and kneels down in front of me on all fours.
I suddenly have a flashing thought that the bedroom door is unlocked and our kids could walk in on us, but Tanya does not give me any time to think about that, or to think about anything else at all. I shiver and bite my lip to prevent myself from screaming as she lowers her face, gorgeous hair tumbling over, and flicks her tongue firmly over my clit.
Clearly, she knows what she’s doing.
Her talented tongue teases, swirls, and thrusts — over, around, and inside me as one hand reaches up to push my tank top up and slowly massage her thumb over my aching nipples. I clutch at the bed on either side of me, eyes closed, letting myself fly away with Tanya until I collapse and come in a heap of hot happiness.
We stay up the rest of that night, talking, fucking, and eating the chocolate-covered strawberries we missed at lunch.
I forget how hungry I get after sex — it has been a while.
It’s almost too easy to know how to do this to her, with her. Being a woman with another woman has its perks — how did I never guess this before?
I learn to my great astonishment that this is Tanya’s first time with a woman too. I never would have known. She says it wasn’t her plan to make this happen with me but that it simply seemed right in the moment, like the most natural place to go.
I agree.
These days, I’m excited whenever my husband goes out of town.
Since that unforgettable night, Tanya and I continue to have our “playdates” whenever we can sneak them in. Our kids have become the best of friends, and her house is a haven for us.
But we always lock the bedroom door now.
I’d be grateful for a coffee :)
If this made you hot, check out the time I was stuck overnight at my husband’s best friend’s place:
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With thanks to my Writing Fairy Godmother, Teresa J. Conway