Swim Team Exhibitionist Coach

[Note : All participants in this fictionalized story at least 18 years of age]

__________________________________________________________________

I had been anxious all day. Anxious to see Suzanne again (I was in lust) but also anxious that our cozy professional relationship was about to end before it really began. And I was anxious about what the consequences might be for me professionally if the truth about the day before ever got out. I had, after all, been peeping on a student lifeguard, had masturbated and cream pied her in the shower and been implicit in her exhibitionism with the swim team.

On top of it all, I was going to be late for our impromptu meeting. We both had the last period free - a "study" for her and "prep" for me -- which would allow us 40 minutes together before each practice. Unfortunately, I was hit with an emergency "On Call" at the last minute and had no way of contacting her to let her know.

She had a key to the Pool Office so that wasn't the problem. But I needed to talk with her before the team showed up to clear the air between us -- to see where we stood. I had been stewing for 24 hours about the potential fallout from my perverted and totally unprofessional behaviour the day before -- there would have been no way to justify my actions.

My imagination was getting the better of me and I was envisioning having to get on my knees to beg her forgiveness and hoping against hope that, not only could I keep my job, but that we would be able to continue to coach the team together. Even though she had been front and center and participated willingly in my debauchery, she was a student at the school I taught at and I was her employer (so to speak). My actions would be indefensible. That she was 18 was the only saving grace legally I feared.

I wasn't able to get to the pool before the final bell rang so, no doubt, several of the swimmers would already be there, changing for the practice. I was not going to have more than a few moments to touch base with Suzanne, to apologise properly for my unacceptable behaviour and to make things right with her. Was she upset with how her plan to catch me peeping on her had spiraled as it did?

As I approached the Pool Office from the deck, I was surprised to see that the office lights were out yet the background music on. I was expecting that Suzanne would already be there, but the office appeared empty. As I opened the door and hit the light switch, I quickly realized that she was there, sitting on the wheeled office chair. She was hunched over in front of the boy's valuables box, peering into their change room! She had a dark towel draped over her head and shoulders to prevent any light from giving her away to the changing swimmers.

I was both shocked and relieved at the same time! On the one hand, this was totally beyond the limits of what would be considered tolerable, let alone acceptable. Suzanne was violating the expectation of privacy for our swimmers in the most egregious way. I knew that the boys would have been thrilled and titillated if they were aware of this. If they had known that a beautiful peer of theirs was peeping at them, spying from a darkened room, hoping to catch them unawares, at their most vulnerable.

I was shocked by Suzanne's behavior here - and incredibly turned on! It wasn't a moral shock -- I was guilty of the same shameless voyeurism as she was - my shock was more surprize than anything else. She was only 18 and yet indulging in a shared fetish (perversion?) that I myself felt incredibly guilty about. She was as much of a voyeur as I was. It looked like neither of us were regretting our own actions from the day before and that we were both good with keeping each other's secrets to ourselves.

She had acknowledged my presence by sheepishly lifting her head from her peeping and lowered the lid, careful not to give herself away to the boys she had been spying on. As she disengaged herself from her spying station and wheeled her chair over in my direction, her unbuttoned blouse dropped off her shoulders. Her inadequate demi-cup bra held her tits up and out invitingly, her erect nipples all but exposed. I suspected that she had been tweaking them while watching the team change into their swimsuits. She was as much of a pervert as I was.

I had a flaming Hardon that would be difficult to hide, so I didn't bother trying. She was right in front of me, her eyes level with my belt. She spun the chair around and wordlessly invited me to massage her neck, seeming to suggest that she might need some work there due to her peeping. I knew that as soon as I began to knead her shoulders, the scalloped edge of the bra would slip and release her already erect nipples. She knew exactly what she was doing.

We didn't have time for this and I said as much. Neither Suzanne or I had changed for practice yet. The boys were due on the deck in less than ten minutes, so she wordlessly stood up and slipped past me, her blouse fallen off her shoulders. She entered the girls' change room, left the door wide open, allowing me to watch her undress as I did the same. I did watch her. Shamelessly. I watched her as she removed her blouse completely, exposing her inadequate bra before dropping it too to the bench. Her skirt followed as she shimmied her hips to allow it to slip to the floor. Her panties soon followed. She made no effort to hide her nakedness, her newly bald labia on display, glistening with her recent excitement.

As she began stepping into her Speedo I gasped out loud in alarm. Her aquatic club trained in the mornings at our pool and I recognised her Speedo as one of her club's team suits from early the previous season. They had had to stop wearing them during their first meet of the season. The suits were beautiful and looked great, but were ill-conceived for competitive swimming. They were totally transparent when wet.

The team colours were red and white. They had designed a white suit with five strategically placed red maple leaves -- the men's with three. Although the red appliques were opaque, the suit itself was not. Speedo had offered the club new experimental suits made with Lycra replacing the denser nylon they had been using for years. Lycra was incredibly stretchy and the womens' swimsuits had to be "stepped into" and pulled and stretched into place. Skin tight and lightweight, they were meant to set a new standard in competitive swimwear. Instead, they were indecent when wet.

The team was swimming their warm up laps for their first meet of the season when one of the officials noticed just how transparent their new Lycra Speedos were. Instead of looking sharp and distinctive, the whole team had to change swimsuits before the heats. The embarrassment for the team was acute. This was the swimsuit Suzanne intended to wear in practice today. I was horrified and told her I couldn't let her in the water if she wore that Speedo, but she wouldn't be dissuaded, putting it on anyways.

As concerned as I was about what Suzanne was wearing, I realized that the shorts that I had just changed into could not hide my erection. She had slipped into her thongs and a cropped sweatshirt and was heading out onto the deck to open the change room door to let the swimmers out. In a huff, she commented that I had to do something about my own predicament and worry less about her.

She was right. I couldn't be on the deck in this state and scrambled for a solution. I ended up hiding behind a filing cabinet to take care of business. It didn't take me very long to beat my meat and the towel I had handy allowed me to prevent making a mess. I felt ashamed of myself and wondered how I could have let myself get into such a state. Masturbating in the office while the team was on the deck -- WTF!

As my cock was now in a more presentable state, I pulled up my shorts and stepped onto the deck. I was alarmed to see everyone in the pool -- including Suzanne. The lifeguard should not have been in the pool without another qualified instructor on the deck. That would be me!

As the team swam their initial warm up laps, Suzanne had defiantly joined them. As much as this alarmed me, I couldn't help but admire how easy it was for her to outpace all of them and just how flawless her strokes were. Several of the boys had paused in their reps and were watching her, their goggles giving them a clear view from under the surface. Suzanne being in the pool was nothing new for them -- I had no doubt that it was her transparent Speedo that had caught their attention.

As she finished her last lap, she stood up in the shallow end and, as I had feared, was on full display for all to see. It looked like she was wearing pasties. The suit itself had all but disappeared -- only the white piping at the edges were evident. The two isolated red maple leaves on each of her magnificent breasts were doing a poor job of hiding anything -- the physical details of her nipples and areoles were clearly outlined through the taught material. As she leaned her head back to squeeze water from her ponytail, her breasts were thrust forward, emphasizing their incredible dimensions.

The Speedo was too small, purchase when Suzanne was a slim and svelte teenager, not the curvy and shapely woman that she was now. As she hoisted herself out of the water as she was wont to do, the swimsuit appeared to be straining to contain those curves and the boys were spellbound. The red appliques on her cheeks were cute but did nothing to hide them. The valley between them was clearly visible, her muscular glutes a sight to behold. As she towelled herself off before putting her sweatshirt back on, she was discretely twerking them in alternating contractions, apparently "unaware" of the effect this was having on the young men raptly watching her every move.

The larger maple leaf applique in the front did no better a job at hiding her camel toe than did the others. It too was stretched taught. The Nair from yesterday's shower had done it's job and no pubic hair was the least bit evident - her clearly outlined labia hard to ignore. The sweatshirt didn't help much. It was cropped and covered her torso but ended at the waist, her nether regions still on full display.

As the practice progressed and the swimmers continued their laps, Suzanne would stop individuals and offer one-on-one instructions. She would get their attention and then stop them at the end of the pool. Crouching down, her crotch would be no more than a couple of feet from the swimmer's rapt attention, they were getting a close up, personalized view of her camel toe. It was difficult to tell if they were hearing a word she said.

When the practice ended and the team was filing into the change room, I told Suzanne that I had to speak with them before they left. If they were telling their friends about her unique coaching and her less than modest attire while doing so, there was a good chance that a staff member or admin would hear about it and that would jeopardize our jobs as coaches.

I opened the box and distributed their valuables, but left the lid open as I closed the door. I wanted Suzanne to be able to hear what I was saying to them as they were changing. I knew that Suzanne was back at her post, using the opportunity to peep through the slot again. I reminded the team that having her here was a unique opportunity to benefit from her skill in the water. And her knowledge. Yes, her Speedos were showing more than they should. But her heart was in the right place and she it mortify her if she knew just how much we could see. There was a bit of muttering going on, but in the end, we all agreed that we could not share this with anyone outside of this room, that it needed to be kept between us. We agreed that I should say nothing to Suzanne about her exposure, "hoping" that she would notice on her own to avoid embarrassment. I was sure Suzanne appreciated the way I handled it.

When I returned to the office, Suzanne had finished her peeping and was in the process of peeling off her Speedo. She really was shameless. She had no sooner removed it and was nude again when the phone rang. This was unusual and she grabbed the receiver before I had a chance to. It turned out it was Suzanne's mother and she wanted to talk to me. I had never met Mrs. Z__, but she wanted to meet me!

Suzanne normally took the bus home -- would I be kind enough to drive her home? I had NO idea where this was coming from and the naked Suzanne could offer no insight. I suggested that I would meet her a couple of blocks from the school -- I was concerned about appearance. The optics were seldom good when a female student was seen in a male teacher's vehicle. She understood that.

It was awkward to watch her get dressed, but watch her I did. When she was dressed and left the office, I followed five minutes later, giving her a chance to walk to our agreed upon rendezvous before picking her up. When we were seated together and on our way, I again asked why her mom wanted to meet me, but she denied knowing why.

To be continued ...