Swim Team Exhibitionist Coach

[note : all participants in this fictionalized story are at least 18]

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Suzanne was a senior student. She was Asian and was in our elite athlete program. She was a speed swimmer who was often away during the school year competing provincially or nationally. She put in many hours training with her club on a daily basis and had fulfilled her 40 hours of "community service" requirements to graduate by helping me coach the swim team the previous season. It was great to have her there at the pool to work with her peers and to hop in to the pool to demonstrate the variety of skills required by our swimmers.

As her final year started and she reached her 18th birthday, Suzanne quit her intensive training. She had had a growth spirt and had gained a couple of inches on the hips -- and a couple of cup sizes. Her new, womanly figure had affected her swimming and she had decided to concentrate on her studies.

She was a doll. And, of course, a highly trained swimmer. I was able to hire her as a lifeguard with the understanding that she could help me with the coaching. As I also had my aquatic qualifications, it would allow Suzanne to enter the water to demonstrate various skills and one-on-one instruction from time to time. This was a particularly effective way to teach (and thus coach) and the team loved it.

Speedos back then were as small as was decent and tight -- for obvious reasons. Suzanne had an extensive collection of Speedos from her slimmer competitive days. They were expensive and she could still squeeze into them with not much difficulty. However, her Speedos struggled to maintain decency. They were hard pressed to contain her new curvy and robust figure, particularly when wet. It was understood that she was going to be in the water, so she was OK with that. on our first day with the team, she simply wore a sweatshirt and thongs along with her red Speedo.

The boys all knew Suzanne and were used to her in-water demos from the previous season. I wanted them to use flip turns from the start to speed up their reps, so I had Suzanne in the pool early in the first practice of the season. There were a few quick double takes as she pulled her sweatshirt off over her head and her all together too tight Speedo was on display. As she dove flawlessly into the pool and emerged from the water and stood up, the wet nylon clung to her new curves. Both her dark pubic hair and a camel toe were apparent through the red nylon. Only the gussets prevented her labia and nipples from being clearly visible.

She didn't appear to notice and she demonstrated a couple of flip turns, remaining in the water with the boys as they attempted them on their own. As she finished up and effortlessly hoisted herself out of the pool and toweled herself down, she might as well have been spray painted red. The Speedo was like a second skin. She appeared to me like a goddess -- a Venice for the modern world. Her Speedo was adequately covering her, but hid nothing. With her olive skin tone, a white Speedo would have appeared transparent. I wondered if she knew just how exposed she was. i was having a tough time hiding my excitement.

I thought the boys handled it well by managing to keep their tongues from hanging out, but her demo was spot on. The team made great progress right away and both Suzanne and I were happy with their effort and progress.

I knew that having Suzanne as a coach was having a positive effect on the boys. Boys being boys, they were smitten. Honestly, so was I. There was no doubt that they worked more intensely with her there and her in-water demos were effective. The short break from their reps was appreciated and Suzanne's lithe, womanly body gliding flawlessly through her flip turns or the proper way to use a pull buoy were mesmerizing.

I am not proud to tell you the next part of this story because it reflects poorly on my professionalism. That very day, at the end of practice, I began what was going to become a pattern over the rest of the season. I was risking both my career and my reputation, but I was weak and couldn't help myself.

Suzanne and I took a few minutes in my office going over goals for the next day's practice. ii was killing time until the boys cleared out of their change room. They did so quickly, anxious to get going after a hard workout. I took a quick peak out to make sure that nothing had been left behind and that the last swimmer had cleared out.

Both the boys' and the girls' change rooms had doors into the pool office. On the inside of each door was a valuable's box : it had an open mail slot (literally) through which students could deposit wallets, keys, etc. into the box to be retrieved after a practice or a pool class. By simply lifting the hinged lid on the box, one had a clear view directly into the change rooms through the slot.

i had checked out the one into the girls' change room. The only real drawback was the limited field of view. The slot for the girls only afforded a partial view of the change room. The box itself prevented one from being able to place their eyes close enough to the slot to get a more complete view. It had a direct line of view to the shower room entrance, but only three of the more that thirty dressing room cubbies were in it's line of sight. What were the chances that Suzanne would choose one of those when she had the whole place to herself?

Suzanne answered the question for me. As we finished up our planning, she excused herself and left the office. As she opened the door to her change room, she lifted the hinged lid to the valuable's box, checked inside, then failed to close it as she gently pushed the door closed behind her. As the box lid was now open, light would be coming through the valuable's slot and she would have no way of determining whether I was peeping in on her or not.

As I did, indeed, peep in on her, she had situated herself in the cubby directly in front of the slot. I couldn't have had a clearer view. It was hard to imagine that it wasn't deliberate on her part. This was my last chance to to save my credibility, my self-respect (my job?) by simply turning around and going about some legitimate activity or catching up on my paperwork.

But that's not what I did, otherwise I wouldn't be telling you about it. I didn't withdraw and stop spying on Suzanne. I didn't do the right thing and stop my lecherous peeping. I was incredibly turned on by the wickedness of what I was doing and I wasn't going to stop.

Suzanne did not disappoint. It was apparent that she either knew that I was or at least she hoped that I was watching her. I fully appreciated the titillation it gave me to expose myself to others and I hoped that the thrill was equally gratifying for her. As she slipped out of her thongs then pulled her sweatshirt up and over her head, the Speedo was still damp and was clinging to her skin. She was in no hurry. It was particularly sensuous as both her firm breasts and hips were slowly released from their confines as she peeled her Speedo off.

She afforded me a full frontal view of her spectacular breasts (erect nipples and all) as she peeled down her Speedo. She skillfully twisted herself in my direction to reveal her magnificent derriere directly in front of my eyes. She as much as said "caught cha" by twerking her cheeks a couple of times as she shimmied her muscular thighs out of the Speedo and let it puddle at her feet.

Wow! It hadn't been ten minutes since we had finished our discussions about tomorrow's practice and here she was : on full display in front of my voyeuristic eyes. My feelings of guilt didn't prevent me from developing a raging Hardon -- quite the contrary.

I watched in fascination as she produced a tube of Nair and proceeded to smear the cream above and to either side of her vagina and between her cheeks. It appeared that she had noticed how visible her pubes had been earlier and she was going to remove them now, before the next practice. She would have to wait 15 minutes before showering in order to give the cream time to do it's work. I still hadn't changed for going home yet and I had a raging erection that was screaming for attention.

Both my shorts and briefs were down around my ankles. As I awkwardly shuffled over to the sink, my cock in my hand, there was a light knock on the door. It wasn't locked, so Suzanne just stepped right into the office, a small towel draped in front awkwardly to cover her nudity. She was leaning forward to keep the towel from smearing the Nair. She was ostensibly there to borrow some shampoo but, no doubt, had hoped to catch me peeping.

Here I was, about to beat my meat over the sink. I was caught red-handed, my shorts around my ankles and my tool throbbing in my hand. I felt awkward as she made no attempt to look anywhere else other than at my exposure, the strong scent of her Nair filling the room. After an awkward moment or two, she took the proffered shampoo in one hand, exposing a breast. She turned and, with a glance over her shoulder back to me, exited the office again, through the still open door. She left it open and proceeded directly to the shower. Time to wash off her Nair along with her unwanted hair.

If I followed her into the shower, I knew I would be in trouble. I had a throbbing cock and I had little doubt I would be sorely tempted by the goddess that Suzanne was. But taking things beyond the mutual exhibitionism / voyeurism that we both seemed to crave, I was afraid of the consequences of becoming physical with her. She was, after all, a student at the school. Although I was not one of her teachers, she did work for me -- I had hired her to be our lifeguard and coach. This was only the first day of our season!

What I did do was wrong, but was a step (a small one) short of crossing the line. I removed my shirt, kicked off my shorts and briefs and followed her into the shower. We were both completely naked and not more than a meter apart.. Without a word being spoken, we each proceeded to wash ourselves without touching each other. I watched as she thoroughly rinsed herself off and then soap herself up and wash her hair, while at the same time I did the same. I masturbated and came with a shuddering orgasm, streams of cum flying with no attempt on her part to avoid being cream pied. We were, after all, in the shower and could wash it all down the drain.

Of course, we now had some awkwardness between us. I think we both were concerned that our professional relationship was compromised but what had just transpired between us. We had both let our physical attraction (dare I say lust on my part?) get the better of us. I could no more blame her deliberate exposure to me as the culprit -- I had had every intention of peeping on her regardless.

We decided that we should both get dressed and call it a night. We agreed to meet the next day during last period here in the office and have a heart-to-heart about what just happened, before practice. What we both knew was that we had a good thing going here with our coaching and that we did not want to see it end. We would find a way to make it work.

To be continued...