Coach's Conquests

3

The adding of statistics had ceased; the jotting down of notes continued, each one more daring than the next.

"You like wearing sexy outfits?" the coached wrote.

"I love it, and I love it when I get looked at...like you're looking at me now, and how you look at me in school," Monique wrote back.

"Don't you feel like a slut?" Bret wrote.

"I like to look -- and feel -- like a slut...sometimes," Monique wrote.

As Monique wrote her latest note and flipped over the paper to continue, Bret's right hand grazed her knee. Seeing no objection, he began to massage her thigh, up and down, up and down. A soft moan, an "oooooo" escaped from the teenager's lips. Bret looked at her, only to see the outline of her tongue licking her lips. His cock grew. He felt it. She saw it. She smiled again. His hand had reached the hem of her skirt, and as he looked to see what she was writing, he saw that she had quit writing and was just doodling instead. She parted her legs a bit, giving him the opportunity to slide his hand further up. He took a quick look around and then leaned in to Monique, asking, "Should we continue this when we get back? Do you have a deadline to get home?"

Monique only reaction at first was to grab Bret's hand and keep it under her skirt. He hadn't yet reached her panties but he was close. He could feel the warmth. If the sweater wasn't so thick he was sure he would be able to see nipples sticking through her bra.

Then Monique whispered, "I have no deadlines, Coach. I'm a senior."

With that, Bret shifted his left hand around her neck and braced it on the top of the seat directly behind her. And with his right hand, more specifically his right index finger, he went to work. He found her panties to be quite moist, not soaked, but certainly moist. He desperately wanted to kiss her, to taste her long, sexy tongue and her lip gloss right there, but he couldn't risk being caught. Monique continued to shine the light around her knees to the paper. She alertly picked up a stat sheet and shined the light on it, just in case someone might happen by. But there was little doubt if someone were to happen by, they'd see the coach with right index finger quickly getting moist from Monique's dripping pussy, and they'd see Monique, leaning back now, spreading her legs further and further apart and welcoming the coach's hard finger into her sex.

His rhythm was good, steady, firm. He alternated between her rock hard clit and her wet pussy, driving it deep inside and then teasing her with it. He'd even pull out for seconds at a time, only to see the silhouette of her glaring at him and ordering him (without speaking, of course) to put it back in. He wanted to touch her breasts, even through the outside of the sweater. And he wanted to kiss her, play with her ass, do it all. But he knew there'd be time. After all, she didn't have a deadline.

As he continued to bang her, the miles flew by. The final mile sign said 6 miles to Lakeville, and the coach had one goal in mind: get this horny teenage cheerleader off before the street lights of the town began waking people up.

The steady finger fuck continued, with Monique at times holding both hands over her mouth to muffle the moans. He nibbled on her ears at times, his tongue darting in and out. He knew he was taking a chance, but his lust had overtaken his brain. She leaned in and told him she was close, so close, so damn fucking close, she said. "Don't stop now," she whispered. "Don't you dare stop now."

And he didn't. He kept going...at a faster...faster...faster pace. Finally, she writhed back and forth, trying to grind her sex against anything she could find, the seat, the notebook, the flashlight pen, his hand. But it didn't matter. She was getting off, and he was doing it to her.

Finally, Bret placed his hand over her mouth so she could pull her sweater down over her skirt and catch her orgasm. Her panties now full, she slumped down...smiling...wickedly at him. He put a finger to his mouth, licked, and then put it to hers.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmm," she whispered, and as she gathered herself for the short walk back to her seat, the cheerleader said simply, "Nice stats tonight, coach. Nice game."

To Be Continued...