Fantasy League

This was to be her daughter's first year playing organized sports. They say that soccer is the sport to play for children to be on equal footing in a coed environment. At first she was just going to register her daughter in the league and let them determine which team she would be on.

The more she talked to her friends, the more she realized that the best opportunity for her to have fun while playing and possibly even score was to have the right coach. She didn't know whom to request or what to look for. One afternoon while talking with the girls over a glass of wine, they explained what to look for. They had older children who had gone through sports before.

The things that they told her to consider were not the things she might normally be looking for from a coach. The more she heard the more it made sense. This wasn't about winning and losing, it was about having fun. Wasn't that what the brochure said. Better yet, if there was a possibility of scoring.

She went home that evening and thought about the options. Having been involved in the school system and the community, she knew many of the potential coaches. There were a few women and but mostly dads. She took the perspective that her friends had offered and thought about which would be the most patient, have stamina for the task, be somewhat aggressive and be focused on the value of scoring? As she reflected on the options, she thought she knew which coach to request.

At league registration, she and her daughter brought the completed form to the table. Many of the coaches were at the table collecting the forms. As she waited in line, she was surprised by how pleasant many of the coaches were to all the people in the line. It was particularly interesting how they seemed to volunteer more readily to coach some kids more than others.

As she made her way to the line, she noticed that several of the coaches seemed to jockey for position to take her registration packet. She realized that she had on a tank top and shorts, but these guys acted like they were on testosterone overdose. It did make her feel good to see these grown men fawn over her. That was until they saw that she had specifically requested a coach already.

The coach wasn't there so she didn't have a chance to meet him until the practices started. The first few practices were centered on skills – running, dribbling and passing. She spent the practices watching him. He was good with the kids and the kids seemed to like him. While she didn't know much about the sport itself, she knew what her friends had shared with her and she was learning as she watched.

Each week the kids seemed to improve their abilities. That is most of the children but hers. Her daughter practiced and improved but she didn't seem to have the aggressiveness that she needed to get out there and score. Each week she attempted to gather up the courage to talk to him about the same subject without being intimidated or embarrassed. Maybe her daughter got this from her mom.

One week as she waited for practice to end, she stood on the sidelines. Nearby were some coaches who were waiting for the field to practice with their teams. They must have not realized that she was so close. She didn't hear everything, but she caught part of the discussion of the Fantasy League that the coaches had compiled. This in itself wasn't eye opening; fantasy leagues are popular among men. There are web sites dedicated to the various fantasy leagues for almost every sport. It was what they called their league. It was the MILF league.

Her friends had mentioned the term that afternoon. She didn't believe that the MILF league was really something that went on. She wrote it off as a suburban myth dreamed up by the other moms. Now there was not disputing it, the fantasy league was real among the coaches.

This wasn't it. Her jaw dropped when her daughter's coach walked to the other coaches and began talking. It was again obvious that they didn't know she was close by. Clear as day she heard her name mentioned. She couldn't hear everything after that, but she could tell that her daughter's coach was adamant about something. As she saw the two coaches walk toward the field, her face lit up when she heard them yell to her daughter's coach, "Fine, don't make the trade."

Two days later was the first game. They played showing some glimpses of passing and scored a few goals. As is usually the case, there is very little defense. The aggressive ones seem to score more. The team did all right. Her daughter seemed to dawdle behind the other kids and generally avoided the ball.

As the next practice came on Friday evening, she decided she needed to get more into the sport. She had figured the best way to do this. After practice, she approached the coach to discuss assisting on a program to help develop her daughter's skills more. He needed a little time to finish some things and he would be over to talk more.

A few minutes later, he came back as the kids were on their way home. He asked about her daughter. "Where was she?"

She explained that her idea was for her to better understand the sport herself and then work on skills during the week when there were no practices. Sounded like a sound plan to him, made sense. Besides he had time, his son had gone to a birthday party for the evening and was already gone. He had a little time to give her what she wanted.

She was dressed for the workout as she had come from the gym before the practice. She still had on her shorts and was wearing a tank top with a towel draped over her shoulders. That fall evening was unseasonably warm. While her work out had been done over an hour before she still had a shine from her earlier workout.

He asked what she would like to work on. She explained that she had a limited knowledge on how the game was played. She went on to suggest that maybe there was an opportunity to work on how to be more aggressive getting the ball to the hole. She asked how she might be able to learn more about getting through the defenses in order to score more.

She had played a little sports in school years ago and took the ball. Could they start on how to be more aggressive and attempting to score? He asked if she would like to try to score on him. She gave a subtle nod of approval and tossed her hair back and began to dribble toward the goal. She tried to get through his defenses but to no avail. He seemed to close in to her space and steal the ball.

They both seemed to be getting a work out in. He gave her tips between deep breaths. She tried again. This time she tried a spin move and curled into him. He closed from behind her and used his body to keep her from the goal. She continued to lean deeper into him. She could feel his body against hers, their sweaty bodies touching.

She attempted to slide free to get past him. They got tangled and they both fell to the ground, him on her. He didn't land on her with full force, but she was able to feel that maybe the deep breathing was not all due to the workout. She could feel his cock against her. He seemed to linger on her before lifting himself off her. He did so by using his arms to push up, somehow his pelvis grinding harder against her as he moved before finally getting to his feet.

This inspired her to try harder to score. How could he defend her that way? She asked to try again. She again tried the same move, backing into him, keeping the ball away from him. This time she felt her breath skip a breath or two as he again pressed against her. She felt his hard offensive weapon pressed against her tight backside. She leaned in more and he pressed deeper to hold his ground.

She was intent on scoring and slid off him, spinning free with the ball into the open field just off to the right of the goal. Despite the open goal, she somehow managed to boot the ball over the net and into the woods. Racing past the goal, she grabbed her towel, wiping her face, jogging into the woods to retrieve the ball.

He noticed that it was taking a while for her to find the ball. Suddenly, he heard her call him, asking for help finding the ball. Almost sprinting, he rushed to help her. He found her and joined in to search. It should be right here he thought. She didn't seem to have kicked it too deep into the woods.

While looking she discussed what she would like to work on next once they found the ball. She told him, she felt she was able to break down his defenses and now it was obvious she needed to work on getting scoring, mentioning something about getting it in the hole.

She had separated from him as they both continued looking for the ball. He again heard her call him. He walked deeper into the woods and found the ball laying neatly on her towel with her no where in sight. As her bent to pick the ball up, she seemed to sneak up behind him. He heard her mention something about getting to the ball as he felt her hands circle his waist and make their way down his shorts. One hand on his testicles working his balls and the other grabbing his still swollen offensive weapon. He froze, as she seemed to break down his defenses yet again.

He stood there defenseless as she felt him continue to rise and swell. His girth increasing in her hands. She continued to work from the tip then down the shaft and back up again. Suddenly, she tightened her grip on him and whispered in his ear…can we work on getting the ball near the hole now. He was breathless and could only nod. He turned to find her spreading the towel on the ground, her nice athletic rear staring at him.

He slid behind her as best he could, his shorts still on but dropped to the ground. Kicking them free now, he slid his sweaty body behind hers pulling her close to him. With a smooth stroke of his right hand, he removed her tank top and pulled it off revealing her glistening breasts now hanging free. Now using his left hand, he pulls her closer still. One hand working her breasts, gently rubbing, tugging and pinching her, the other rubbing the damp crotch of her shorts. He pulls her straight now after several minutes and begins kissing and licking the nape of her neck. From behind, he can hear her uneasy breathing. As if through her shorts, he can feel her begin to feel her temperature rise and surely he seemed to feel her get wetter.

He can feel all of her body against his as he reaches for her shorts and slides them away from her hot love hole. Her defenses are non-existent as he reaches in and begins to message her clitoris. Playing with her lips and using his fingers to penetrate her. She is loose in his arms as he continues to pull her closer. This time parting her, he leans his hips into her and dips the tip of his penis into her wet box. As much as he wanted to plunge into her with all he had, he decides to only use the tip to tease her, wiggling it in and out of her slowly and rhythmically. This continues for several minutes.

His kisses still working her neck, he can hear her try to talk between breaths. Hard to make out at first, finally he hears her clear now. "Take it to the hole hard" she says. "Take it strong" she adds almost begging. He pulls out and turns her around lifting her with his strong arms. Slowly her lays her back onto her towel. She spreads her hole, showing off her shaved wet love hole to him.

On his knees now, he crawls toward her; his rock hard pole pointed right at her as if it were a missile with set coordinates for her. He inches closer, but before penetrating her, he repositions her legs over his shoulders. Her ass off the ground, yet her passion box staring at him. As if in a singular motion, he pulls her close to him and enters her. This time thrusting deep into her, hard. Thrusting deep and pulling back almost out except the tip if his penis. She can feel the bump of his foreskin as he teases her and then pushes himself deeper still. On the second thrust her clitoris tightens as she reaches a mind-numbing climax.

He continues to mount her, continuing to thrust, each time seemingly deeper than the time previously. He feels himself begin to lose control, the cum building up in his throbbing penis. His head almost ready to explode, he pulls out. She moans inaudibly again. It doesn't matter what she is saying, he ahs a game plan to follow. He lowers her legs, reaches under her and around her waist and rolls her on her stomach. Lifting her belly and waist, he positions the soccer ball under her, elevating her rear in the air.

He doesn't hesitate as he positions himself behind her. His still throbbing passion pole sliding into her soaking wet lust box. Again he slides in his tip only before pulling back. And again. And again. Their breathing the only sound breaking the quiet of the woods, he hears her say "come on CILS take it to the MILF and take it hard". As he thrusts deep into her this time exploding his hot cum into her, he realizes what she has said. It registers, but he continues to mount her thrusting still, until he is expended of energy and she falls almost lifeless in his arms.

As they dress, he asks her about what she said. She explains that she knows about the MILF Fantasy League. He feigns innocence, as she looks him in the eye. Winking she says, "thanks for keeping me on your team. It's good to know that you didn't want to trade me. It's flattering to be a MILF. Yes, I know it means Mothers I'd Like to Fuck".

Slightly embarrassed, but feeling like a player who just scored, he asks "What is a CILS?"

She goes on to explain, "My friends told me about what MILF means and they had created a CILS program. You thing we ended up on your team by mistake. You are on my Coaches I'd Like to Screw roster"

Having a clear understanding of the definitions and the object of the game. The one-on-one session continued for the season. Her daughter did eventually play more aggressively, but the lessons only seemed to help Mom score more.