A series of stories about the pleasures of youth and the fun had during those glory years….
Story Two – One Distraction Too Many
"You!" yelled Coach. "Yeah, you," he added pointing to make sure I knew it was me he was talking to, "Drop and give me fifty!"
"Now!" he added in his steely baritone when he saw me hesitate.
I was on my hands in seconds after that, loudly counting out with every pushup.
"I don't give a good god damn what you pansy asses do on your own time, but you better listen to me when I tell you I won't take any shit this year!" Coach shouted in his usual blunt manner, deciding to take this moment to let us know, yet again, his opinion on the subject of sex, and the relationship between men and women in general, when it came to his football team, "Don't fuck with me. And no sampling the merchandise! Stop smirking at me Jameson. You know what I'm talking about. You wanna make doe eyes with the little misses upstairs, fine, but do it on your own time. For the next hour you belong to me!"
The response from the twenty guys running laps that morning was a resounding "Yes, Sir!"
Coach was a real hard ass, but since he was the winningest coach in the history of our school he practically got away with murder. I needed to be careful it wasn't my murder.
This was the start of football season and we were in a heavy rotation of training. He would typically warm us up in the gym before we headed off to the weight room for our workouts.
The girls liked to watch us.
Our gym was set up so that the one big gym (that was usually used for basketball) could be separated into two smaller courts for practices. One set of stadium bleachers was pushed back against the wall most of the time and the bleachers on the other side were actually located above the main floor like a mezzanine. A smaller practice court was located up there behind them, which the ladies teams usually used. Since it opened to a balcony overlooking our gym, right over the entrance to the hallway leading to the weight rooms, the girls would often come down and watch us work out.
Or the flirty ones would at any rate.
When I finished my fifty pushups, I stood up to complete my laps as was expected of me. The other guys were just wrapping up and most were walking off to the weight room. I glanced up at the girl who'd given me so much trouble.
She was still standing there.
Brenda Parker stared down into my eyes, a smirk playing on the edges of her lips. Finally, she moved away from the balcony to go back to her own practice court.
I winked back at her before she turned away and I started my last five laps around the gym.
Steve caught up with me, midway through his last lap.
"You see her checking me out, man?" I asked him, panting.
"Who?" he asked between breaths.
"The ice queen!"
"No fucking way man."
"On my honor dude," I told him.
I nodded to Steve in acknowledgement, winded and trying to reserve my breath for the jog.
The ice queen was the way most guys referred to the oh so virginal visage of Miss Parker. None of my posse would admit to having scored with her, because we all knew the cold shoulder is all any guy ever got when they asked her out. Strangely enough though, Todd Bryerson, the QB of the football team from the neighboring town, had admitted to me over beers one night last summer that she was a real hell raiser. Apparently a girl on his cheerleading squad was Brenda's cousin or some relation. To hear Todd tell it, she'd given him a cockstand like he'd never had before during an awesome threesome out back of Miller's Woods.
I could believe that. At least about the boner at any rate. One look was all it took.
Brenda is nearly as tall as I am. And I stand six feet, three inches tall. She had a long, lean body. The body a tennis star might have, just toned and slightly muscular, especially through the legs, with the tan to prove she'd spent her days in the summer sunshine. Her ass was firm and round and she sported a perky pair of breasts that were like firm round apples. She often wore these tight fitting blouses to class that showed them off to their best advantage.
Steve took a deep breath and followed his last comment, "Well, good luck dude. Think you can go where no man's gone before?"
"You know me," I wheezed, gasping for air.
"Yeah," he said, laughing as he broke into a fast walk, and slapped me on the back at the same time, "I do know you. You're our last hope, Obi Wan. If you can't do it, it can't be done."
With that sentiment he jogged off to the weight room. Most of the guys were already down the hallway with Coach barking orders at their heels.
"May the Force be with you too!" I said, calling after him as I continued on with my laps.
Skinner, our assistant coach, nodded to me as he too, took off down the hall.
"Coming to join us anytime soon, Marc my man?" he said.
"Jesus Christ," I said, really winded by now, "I'll be there when I get there!"
I still had two laps to go.
Skinner laughed at me, but his gaze too went thoughtfully up to the balcony, which was now empty. Knowing him the way I did, his thoughts had also been on the nubile young flesh that had been standing there earlier.
All the guys were aware that the girls watched, although with Coach, as I had just learned the hard way, if I'd had any previous doubts, it was an unwritten taboo that we weren't supposed to acknowledge the eyes that watched our sweaty bodies every afternoon in the gym. Every day it was the same. We'd finish our warm up routines and then strut back to the weight room, never acknowledging, but constantly aware of each eye giving us the once over. And we privately jostled and competed for the ones we were hoping to get lucky with.
Coach gave 'em a real show too, putting all of us through the paces: running, pushups, and sit ups. He made sure we got all worked up and had the blood pumping. Sweat pouring out of our bodies.
I think he thought pent up sexual energy was good for winning.
My last lap seemed to take forever, but I finished the last few feet from a slow jog to a quick walk and finally stopping at the water fountain near the exit. I splashed some water onto my sweat-covered face and pulled off my shirt to let the cool air at my overheated body. With one more drink from the fountain, I set off down the hall to the weight room, shirt in hand, to start the workout I was already late for. I could already hear the clang of weights and the guys joshing around from the open door ahead.
About half way down the hall though I heard a giggle. The noise echoing softly in the empty hall, mixing with the raucous noise of the iron plates on the weight benches.
I looked ahead to see if it was one of the guys, but realized instinctively that it couldn't be. None of them would have sounded…well…so like a girl.
A secondary corridor met up in a t-junction about five feet ahead. A break in the lockers along the edge of the hallway that led off to the equipment storage rooms.
Coming up to the entrance to the hallway, I saw none other than the ice queen herself, defrosting against a locker. She hadn't changed her clothes and she was wearing her tight team t-shirt and the short pleated tennis skirt that all the members of the girls tennis team wore. Looking all innocent she leaned back against the lockers, her two hands between her ass and the cold metal.
