Softball Mom

The clouds had looked threatening all weekend. With each round of the softball tournament, I wondered if the rain would wash out the entire weekend. Sprinkles dropped on our heads from time-to-time, but the rains seemed to hold back. Still, I inched closer to Della just in case we needed to make a break for cover if the rains did come.

Della’s daughter played third base. My daughter played first base. They’d been on the same team for several years and were very good friends. Della and I had been exchanging glances at each other, stealing secret moments of our hands or legs barely touching, and resisting the urge to tell each other of our desires. I knew it was not one-sided. I could tell in her eyes that she wanted me as much as I wanted her. But to act on those desires might mean disaster for our marriages. So, for those long years, we sat in quiet desperation, near each other while we cheered our daughters and our spouses.

Della’s husband, Matt, coached the kids. My wife, Tina, was his assistant coach. Though I had noticed my wife’s face soften when I spoke of Matt, I had noticed, about a month ago, that my wife seemed to linger behind at practice while my daughter walked home. My wife, Kate, would say that she and Matt were going over the lineup one more time before the upcoming weekend tournament, or that she and Matt had to do a call with a coach from another team who was giving them a scouting report from an upcoming opponent. My daughter walked home while my wife and Matt talked strategy. While my daughter did not seem to think this was odd or put her out in any way, I remained uneasy about the amount of time my wife and Matt seemed to be “strategizing” lately. As the weeks went on, their strategic planning sessions seemed to go on longer than the night before.

About this same time, when Kate and Matt were spending longer hours together, Della started texting me. She said she it was “just to check-in.” At first, that’s all I thought it was, a genuine attempt to connect as friends. But then there was one night where Matt and Kate seemed to be “strategizing” longer than had been their typical that Della’s tone changed. It’s hard to read “tone” in text, but there was nuance in her words.

Della:  Kinda getting lonely with all these late practices our spouses are having. 

Me: LOL! I suppose so.

Della:  No! Like I really mean it. Our spouses are spending so much time together that it’s starting to get lonely around here.

Me:     I agree! I will be right over so we can take care of that. LOL!

What compelled me to actually send that message I will never know. I thought I was being playful. Maybe there was a part of me that was being hopeful. Overall, I meant it as a playful joke. But then Della did not seem to see the text the same way.

Della:  Thank god! I thought you’d never get the hint. I’ll be waiting with nothing on.

I felt a heaviness in my chest and a lump tightened my throat. I stared at the text for what felt like hours, though it was only a few moments. Was this for real or was Della just fucking around?! Della was fun, always quick with the flirty joke. Texting can make you read between the lines, but this didn’t seem like a joke. But if it were a joke, I didn’t want to make things awkward. I would, after all, be sitting next to her again this weekend and every weekend for the remainder of the tournament season. The tension between us was already making me nervous. I did not want to inadvertently expose both of us to the nosey softball moms in the stands. But if she had not been joking, if she had meant that she genuinely wanted me to come over to help cure her loneliness, then I did not want to rebuff her.

I texted back: That would be hot! I thought maybe that could mean a million different things while being non-committal. The bubbles on the text box seemed to be running forever as if she were either typing an exhaustive love letter or simply thinking of what to say. Then, the bubbles stopped. Within minutes of my text to Della, my wife came home, and as was typical of her following softball practice, she immediately went upstairs to shower off the dust from practice. I looked again at Della’s text hoping she would have responded. But I would have to wait.

While I was at work the next morning, I felt my phone vibrate. I glanced at it during my meeting and had to stifle my excitement to see that Della had sent a message. I wanted to open it right there and then, but my meeting was too intense for me to do so. Instead, the text sat unopened on my phone, which felt like a weight in my pants pocket. My mind never wandered far from what message the phone held for me. Finally, an hour later, I opened Della’s message.

Della: Sure did take Matt a long time to get home last night. I waited a long time for 

you…naked!

I again could not tell if she was just having some flirty fun with me or if any of this was for real. My mind refused to believe any possibility that Della was sending me flirtatious texts. But, for the first time, I tried to imagine Della naked. Della had really large breasts. They stretched any shirt she wore and, when she allowed for the neck to scoop low, her cleavage was tremendous. I fantasized about how they might feel against my chest, how they might fit into my hand, into my mouth. Della had wide, curvy hips that made her jeans fit tight. I could easily imagine what she might look like without them on. My cock stiffened as I imagined her standing at the front door of her home, naked, waiting for me to take her inside.

Finally, I got the courage to play along with Della. Not knowing if she was playing or being serious, I decided to go for reality. I decided she at least imagined me coming over to her house while she was naked. That would be enough.

I texted: I hope I didn’t let you down.

Della nearly immediately responded: Oh, I took care of things.

I was not at all sure what that meant. Was she even talking about the same thing as I was? So, I texted the most insightful comment that came to mind. I texted: huh?! Absolutely brilliant.

Della: LOL! You are so funny. I masturbated you idiot!

Della and I never, and I mean never, had so much as discussed our sex lives with each other. Our conversations were mind-numbingly ordinary, which was necessary to keep me from kissing her. I could not let her in too much or we would make a mistake. But this bold, new Della was even sexier than the woman beside which I sat during those long weekends. Had she talked to me like this during those weekends, there’s no doubt I would have made a really bad choice to make a move on her years ago. I replied with a simple ooohh, yes! and left it at that. Della, however, had me hooked. I did not know where this was leading, but she had my full attention at this point.

I went to the practice that night hoping to see Della. I stood behind the bleachers while my wife, Tina, took the field with the girls. Matt was late but soon rolled up in his oversized SUV. He jumped out with his daughter and ran towards the field. Della got out of the passenger side of the vehicle and walked around the front and stood by the driver’s side door. She stopped and stared in my direction as her husband and daughter ran by me. Matt and I exchanged “hellos.” We did not make eye contact. He barely seemed to notice my existence. Della, however, noticed me. Like really noticed me. When our eyes met, she smiled broadly and she seemed to wink, though the distance between us was too great to know for sure. Della wore a black pencil skirt and tight, white blouse that was unbuttoned dangerously low. Even from this distance I could see a shadow around her cleavage. My stomach twisted and I felt my cock thicken. She raised a hand to show me her phone. She waved it before taking it in both hands and then she focused on its tiny screen.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I lifted my phone to see that Della had sent me a message. I opened it and felt my body weaken…..