Coach's Conquests

12

Among the phone messages awaiting Bret when he got home from practice Monday night was one from Monique, who was getting herself off at the time of the call. Pamela had also called, but her calls were much more normal, almost as if she was afraid someone was taping them. She talked of how she missed him, but not in a whiny or seductive or nasty sort of way. Rather, it was a confident sort of conversation. She wondered when they might talk again and always closed by giving him her number.

The third and final message was from Angie Evans, the athletic department secretary at the college where Bret played football and coached as a graduate assistant for one year. Hers was a lengthy message detailing a going-away event they were having for the long-time athletic director, R.J. Roy, who was retiring at the end of the year. Apparently, Thursday night was the best night for the event, and although it was short notice, they were trying to get as many people back to the college for the event as possible.

The team was flying out later Thursday night so it would be a great opportunity for the coaches to have a nice dinner, a few drinks and then climb on a plane for a four-hour trip for Saturday's game. Angie was married to the head football coach, Norm Evans, who was the coach when Bret played football several years ago. She was what, 40 by now? Maybe a couple years better than that?

Norm had spotted Angie at some alumni function, snatched her away from the alumni office, got her a job as the athletic secretary and married her a short time later. Angie was attractive for 40-something, well-built and kept herself in shape. She was also a flirt.

Coaches, players, trainers, it didn't matter. If Angie was horny, she was flirting. When Bret was a graduate assistant coach, Norm often told stories of fucking Angie in the locker room, the hot tub, the shower, wherever, once even on the football field. He said she was a "goer," and it kept him young. The rest of them should be so lucky.

Angie had left her home number, and at the end of the phone message had cooed, "I sure hope to hear from you, Bret." He was quick to return the call and found Angie in one of her hornier moods. The coaches were still at practice and often stayed very late during the season, breaking down film and trying to get whatever edge they could on their opponent for that week. Bret remembered that all too well: The long film sessions, the strategy sessions. That's what he loved about the game -- not having the best players but still having the best team.

Angie nearly begged him to come back for the going-away event. It would be at The Plaza Hotel; she'd even reserve him a room if he wanted since she was sure the party would last into the wee hours of the morning and he couldn't possibly get a flight back at that time of night. When Bret asked why the party would continue after the coaching staff had left for its late-night flight, Angie hinted, "Well, we could keep it going if you're up for it."

His mind was made up: He was going back to his college town for this get-together, and he had a pretty good chance of getting laid to boot. That, of course, provided Angie wasn't drunker than hell when she made the phone call to him. Just to make sure, Bret phoned her the next day at the athletic department office. He was happy to find Angie in the same, excitable, horny mood as she was the night before.

"I can't talk right now," she whispered, "but everything I said last night holds true. Promise me you'll be there."

"Get me a room," the coach said.

"Done," said the secretary, and she hung up the phone.

Lakeville's game that Friday night at Weston was supposed to be a mismatch. While the Raiders were 3-0, Weston was 1-1 in league play and 1-2 overall. They had not been impressive in any of their games, even their win. It was a great time for a short week of practice, even Thursday off, the coach thought.

When he informed the team before Wednesday's practice that this would be the final practice of the week and it wouldn't include pads, they were ecstatic. Not only would they not have to beat the crap out of each other for two hours, they could all travel to Valley Falls to watch the volleyball match Thursday night. Bret had planned to attend as well, mainly to see Pamela George, but seeing Angie was a once-in-a-lifetime deal. Pamela would wait for another night.

He received one more sexy, suggestive message from Angie Evans Wednesday night while he was at practice, and Thursday morning he was off to the airport for his flight. He arrived at his old college town mid-afternoon Thursday, and after driving around campus, stopped and watched a bit of practice. The team was going through a light workout since they had the red-eye to catch that night. Bret immediately sought out Norm Evans, the head coach, and the pair had a great visit as practice concluded.

They even had a quick drink in Norm's office, where Bret spotted a photo of Norm and Angie, she in one of those low-cut blouses he remembered her for. He went to The Plaza Hotel, the site of the event, and checked in to his room. Angie had done a nice job, getting Bret a nice, spacious room with a couch and a large bed. He got hard thinking of who might accompany him back to the room later that night.

The going-away party was all the coach had thought it would be. The college went all out: decorations, drinks, dinner and a full roast of coach Norm Evans. Bret and Angie exchanged greetings early in the evening and then exchanged glances throughout the rest of it. It was obvious to the coach she had picked him out for this night. She wore a black skirt, black nylons, a white see-through top with black bra underneath and a black jacket. When she removed the jacket, Bret could see that both the top and bra had spaghetti-thin straps holding her breasts in place. Simply put, this 40-something women looked extremely hot, and Bret was hard most of the night, smiling at her and accepting her suggestive glances. At one point, he thought she motioned him into the lobby. He moved that way, but she didn't. Miscommunication, he thought. Oh well, there would plenty of close-up communication later on.

The college band and cheerleaders attended as well. After several numbers were played by the band, the speakers took the stage. Bret wasn't included, and that was OK. There were many people who spoke about R.J. Roy and what he'd done for that school. When Roy was finished, the band broke into the fight song, the cheerleaders led a cheer and most people started to file out, even though Roy implored them to stay and drink as long as they wanted -- on the college's tab.

As Bret watched Norm and Angie say their good-byes as the staff prepared to hit the road for the airport, a young, brunette cheerleader approached him.

"Aren't you the new coach at Lakeville?" she asked, her lips glossy with lipstick and her cheeks maroon with rouge.

"Yes, Bret Harris," he replied, trying not to stare at her stomach, which was bare because of the type of cheerleading top she wore. His glance did catch a small ring pierced into her bellybutton. "Sexy," the coach thought.

"I'm Lori Hayes; I'm from Lakeville," the cheerleader replied, and the next 20 minutes was spent in a conversation about the town, the team, Lori's background and the fact that her folks were good friends with Rusty Barr and his wife.

"We used to go the lake and the cabin quite a bit," she said, and was surprised and pleased to find out that Bret had spent some time at the cabin as well. "So you know Rusty Barr. His cabin's a blast."

Bret only smiled. That he knew. The remainder of the conversation dealt with what the coach had planned the rest of the evening. It was obvious she wanted in his pants -- and he wanted in her skirt. But one thing was in the way: Angie Evans. The coach thought quickly, bringing up Homecoming, which was three weeks away. He added that he was staying with friends tonight and couldn't meet her for a drink back at her place.

"I wasn't planning on coming back for Homecoming -- it's a long flight and all," she said, obviously downtrodden, "but maybe I'll reconsider. I haven't been home since spring break. I stayed here all summer."

"Try to come back for Homecoming," the coach urged, trying to guess how large the cheerleader's tits were inside the skimpy top. "You can be my Homecoming date."

"Here's my number and e-mail," the cheerleader said, handing the coach a slip of paper. Interesting, the coach thought. Now they give you their e-mail address along with their phone number.

"Call me and convince me to come back," she said.

"Will do," the coach said, shaking her hand and bidding her goodnight. His eyes had remained on Angie throughout much of the conversation and hers on him. When only a few people remained at the event, the party moved to the public bar near the lobby of the hotel. Angie managed to sit by Bret at a table that included R.J. Roy, his wife and two other boosters and their wives. Roy, his wife, the four others boosters and Angie would take Roy's private plane to the game, leaving Friday morning. They would've loved for Bret to join them, but he had to get home for his game Friday night at Weston.

As it moved past midnight, the Roys became tired and began finalizing their plans with Angie and the boosters for their flight the next day. They bid Bret goodnight and good luck and went on their way. Angie made an excuse that she had to talk to the caterer about the bill for the athletic department, and she slipped into the kitchen, waiting for the rest of them to leave. Bret stalled in the men's room and then headed up to his room, wondering if Angie knew the room number. Surely she did; she had made the reservation.

When Bret approached his door, it was ajar, and as he slowly pushed it open, he found a pair of black, 5-inch heels in his path. Bret closed the door behind him, careful to put out the "Do Not Disturb" sign. He locked and bolted the door and walked around the corner past the heels, finding Angie sitting on the bed, fully clothed except her heels, smiling at him, a glass of wine in each hand.

"Compliments of the kitchen," she said. She handed a glass to Bret and the couple toasted R.J. Roy and drank, Angie downing her wine in one gulp. Bret followed suit and put both glasses on the end table. Angie stood up in front of Bret, slipped off the black jacket and let it fall onto the floor. Bret smiled as he saw the white semi-transparent lace top that covered her luscious breasts. Bret could clearly see the bra that matched the skirt, jacket, nylons and heels. An electric silence filled the room as Bret's eyes slowly moved down Angie's body.

Starting at her face with her newly applied lipstick shining, his eyes traveled to her breasts and down to her skirt, wondering what was under it. She didn't let him wonder long. Angie reached behind her and unzipped the skirt, letting it fall to the floor. The black nylons came next, and she sexily stepped out of them, leaving only tiny, tiny black panties that were see-through all over except for the small part that hid her pussy.

Next, she slipped the white top over her shoulders and placed it on the dresser next to the hotel room television set. The coach was rock hard, partly because of the beauty of this 40-something secretary he had craved for years, partly because of the thought that he was about to fuck the wife of the head football coach at his alma mater, a coach he used to play for.

"Your turn," she said, "but only to your shorts. I wanna do the rest." Bret obliged, taking off his sport coat and placing it on the table near the window. His tie and shirt were next, followed by his pants after he had kicked off his dress shoes and removed his socks. Angie just stood there, her black bra barely holding in her sexy tits and her tiny black panties containing what Bret had craved for years.

When Bret was down to his briefs, his cock strained at the material, painful in its urgency to be released. He walked over to Angie, reached up with his hands and she clasped them and pulled him closer to her. Looking down on her uptilted face, he gently stroked her cheek and said, "This has been a long time coming, Angie. And it's going to be worth the wait."

She closed her eyes as her lips hungrily sought his. Mouth clamped to mouth, wide open with lust and tongues frantically exploring each other, the former quarterback and the coach's wife clung to each other with ever increasing urgency. Bret's hands moved down her back until they came to her soft ass. Then he gloriously, voluptuously, caressed each mound, pulling her body harder and closer to him. He felt his rigid cock pressing hard up the length of her stomach, and the hard bump of her mound grinding on his thigh.

They broke apart panting for breath, and Angie's fingers frantically tried to get his briefs down. Bret pushed her hands away and slid his briefs down himself while still kissing her neck. Suddenly he was naked, his skin pressed deliciously against the feminine softness of her flesh, the sharp hard nipples of her breasts pressing through the thin material of her bra and against his chest.

"God, Bret," she was moaning, her hands exploring him as urgently as his on her. "I've wanted to do this so long. God yes! Fuck me please! Please!"

"You know I shouldn't," he panted, not being serious at all. He just wanted the coach's wife to beg some more. "You know that we shouldn't make love to each other. Are you really sure you want us to do this Angie? What about Norm?"

Angie stopped squirming and stood absolutely still, looking Bret directly in the eye. "I've never wanted anything so much in my life, Bret. I know it's wrong, and I know Norm must never know about this. But I've always wanted you to make love to me. I've dreamt of you at night when I touch myself, and I've never found anyone who comes anywhere near to what I want as you. I've wanted you like this ever since I the first time I met you. I wanted you in our hot tub. I wanted you in our bed. And I want you now."

He answered by gently caressing the nipples through her bra and unhooking the front clasp. He kissed her, bringing a gasp from her as the excitement tingled down through her body to her thighs. His hand moved slowly down, over her hip and down to her stomach, down until his fingers found the elastic of her panties. He caressed her ass again and then hooked his fingers in the panties and pulled them down. She stepped out of them, all the while moving her pussy against his thigh, his cock, whatever she could move it against.

He caressed the length of her slit, finally slipping first one finger then two into the wet, slippery flesh. She gasped as he stroked up the side of her clitoris, then buckled at the knees as he began to rhythmically stroke along its stiffening length. They collapsed slowly onto the hotel queen-sized bed, his finger never once giving up its gentle, insistent stroking. His body thrilled as he felt her small fingers clasp his penis and stroke along its rigid length.

"God, I want that cock inside of me," Angie moaned. Bret positioned himself over her, his cock swinging slightly as it jutted out over her stomach. He looked down and paused to savor the sight of his delicious prey wide open underneath him, then grasped his cock and guided it between her thighs. Her pussy lips had swollen with excitement and she now opened for him, eagerly waiting.

"Don't wait any longer," she panted. "I want you inside me now. I want you to fuck me deep and hard!" Bret stroked the tip of his cock up and down her crevice, moistening it with her slippery juices. He dipped his fingers in her slit and spread the moisture over the length of his shaft until it shone in the dim light and was as slippery as she was inside.

Angie's eyes were glazed and her breath was coming in short pants as he slipped his cock in and out. She moaned as he filled her, deeper and deeper. Until finally, with one last firm thrust, his cock filled her pussy and he felt the delicious warmth of her caressing him right up to the root.

"Are you OK?" he whispered. She nodded her head wordlessly, but gave him such a look so full of lust that he knew that she would remember this night. Slowly then, but with ever increasing urgency, he began to fuck her with deep, long strokes. Harder and harder he rammed into her, her body shaking with each thrust. Her head began to turn from side to side and her legs pumped in the air as she began to thrust back at him in time to swallow his cock deeper and deeper.

Orgasm after orgasm wracked her writhing body as she shook beneath him, impaled on his huge cock. The pressure in his balls grew as he watched her begin to pinch and pull her jutting, pink nipples in a frenzy of lust. She was totally delirious now. Her whole world centered on only one thing -- Bret's thick ramming cock that felt as if it was growing and growing and growing. Which it was.

The pressure built up and up and up until his cock jerked spasmodically and a flood of cum shot deep inside her belly like a repeating machine gun. Jet after jet came flooding in to fill her pussy. Angie was driven to an intensity of orgasm she didn't know could be possible. All that mattered in the world was this pulsing, delicious feeling as the overwhelming flood of slippery cum forced itself down her tube past the close fitting shaft of her lover, the former star quarterback who played for her husband. In a frenzy of arousal, Bret continued to ram his meat into Angie until the cum was beaten up into a white froth that coated her stomach and thighs.

Finally, after a madness when he rammed so hard into her that she finally pleaded for him to be gentler, he rolled over onto his back carrying her still impaled so she lay straddled on top of him. They lay like that for at least 10 minutes, gently caressing and kissing, letting the frenzy in their bodies cool until it was bearable.

Finally they rolled apart and Bret's long, swollen cock slid out of her. She lay for a while on her back, legs wide open and gently fingering her pussy, spreading his cum lovingly over her stomach while she smiled at him. They rested for a short while and then their sexcapade continued with Angie servicing the coach with her sexy lips, making him cum again before the night was over. He returned the favor, tasting her sexy pussy in the shower, and after another session of fucking on the bed that lasted until the sun came up, they both made their way to the airport, Angie for her flight to join her husband at the game, and Bret for his flight home.

END 12