Kristen had gone to sleep, or rather, passed out in a post orgasmic euphoria, but awoke with a start. The impact of her actions the previous evening now hitting her foggy brain full force.
How could she have put her marriage at risk with that old man who she had always found to be disgusting in the past? He epitomized the kind of man she despised her whole life. Living in a football town, she had seen way too many of them come and go.
What about Tommy -- her beautiful, smart, wonderful husband? He was everything she had always wanted in a man. His amazing looks were complemented by the fact that he was a great provider and a considerate lover. All the other girls had wanted him. He could have anyone.
She felt incredibly stupid, but that wasn't all. She had acted the complete slut last night, performing acts she had never done before and would have flatly refused to do if her sweet husband had asked for them. The coach had roughly used her and called her demeaning names that only served as a greater turn on. She let him do whatever he wanted and was glad to do it. What was wrong with her?
Kristen had secrets she never shared with anyone, certainly not with her husband. There were things she fantasized about and even some things she had done that she thought she could never share with her husband.
She had some very sexy fantasies for years. She remembered the first time she'd woken in a cold sweat in her college dorm bed during her freshman year. "The Dream" had shocked her, being so out of character.
In her dream, Kristen was being fucked doggie style, and it felt amazing. She turned expecting to see her boyfriend, now her husband, but instead it was Coach. He was looking at her with a happy loving smile as he powerfully pounded away at her receptive pussy. He was saying sweet sexy things to her, and every time she heard a new loving word, her pleasure increased until she came in an explosive orgasm. It was her first and only wet dream. She didn't even know girls could do that.
She had always been a romantic girl. She dated one boy through most of high school and college, and then married him. She liked sex as much as the next person, but that need didn't drive her every thought and action like it did with some people. At least until now.
The Dream had rocked her world. Before that, she'd never imagined Coach in either a sexual or romantic way. But afterwards, she saw him differently even if she refused to admit it publicly or to herself. Furthermore, she never came without imagining he was the cause, whether she was touching herself or making love to her husband. That sexual fantasy, and others, had begun to take over in her brain, no matter how hard she tried to fight them.
Now, after one night with Coach, her fantasies had been surpassed. The fear of the damage she had done to her husband, and herself as well, seemed to pale in comparison to the remembrance of a night of sexual fulfillment that she had never thought truly possible.
That old man had just taken what he wanted. She had always been repulsed by any boy or man who tried anything untoward with her. Until last night when Kristen was mesmerized by Coach as he waved a big shiny object in her face and turned her to putty in his hands.
What was wrong with her? Even now, her pussy was wet at the thought. It was such a turn on to finally have that big cock in her hands, between her breasts, in her mouth and deep in her eager pussy. What a whore she had been, and he knew it. He had pushed every button knowing what the outcome would be.
Sunday morning seemed to go in slow motion for Kristen. She could hear every second tick by as she laid in her comfortable bed -- the bed she'd been fucked in last night. This is what depressed people do. They stay in bed. Tommy wasn't calling her back. Did he know already? Had word gotten out that fast? It couldn't have or she would have heard from someone. Right? One of her friends would surely have called to tell her rumors were spreading.
Coach didn't call either, which kind of surprised her, too. Wouldn't he want a repeat performance with Tommy still out of town? Didn't he enjoy the events of last evening? Why were thoughts that she might have been a disappointment to him even run around her brain? She could never sleep with him again. This was crazy!
Last night though, holy crap, last night. Thoughts were just fragments in her brain. Last night was crazy. Crazy hot. Coach. My God, she fucked Coach. Finally, after all these years of denial and hiding her desire, she'd been fucked by that sexy old man.
She remembered the way he looked at her all these years. She leaned back and closed her eyes thinking about him staring at her. Winking at her. Giving her that dirty, evil smile. Her hand snuck into her pajama bottoms. She could see herself in her cheer uniform. He was wearing that stupid team ball cap he always wore and sweats, a whistle hanging from his neck.
He was a grown man among boys, even when he was with other grown men. He walked up to her, swept an arm around her waist and crushed her to his body. The warmth and smell of him ignited her. Masculinity. Raw masculinity. He took her hand and led her down a dark corridor and into a tiny windowless office. He sat in the desk chair and pulled her down on his lap and kissed her.
Back in her real world bedroom, two of her fingers were working their way into her wet pussy. Ummmm, so good, Coach. Kiss me, baby. I love you. It's always been you. No one but you. Don't worry about him. He's just a boy. You're a man. No words were exchanged. Just sexy looks and kisses. Lots and lots of kisses. And then she came all over her fingers as she screamed into an otherwise empty house.
As her orgasm subsided, a new thought pushed into her brain. That old fucker would tell everyone! Without being overly conceited, she knew very well practically that she was an object of lust for many men. She was well known as one of the better-looking young women in the area.
That dirty old man would brag about his great conquest to all his friends. Even if he was a good man, which he most certainly was not, he would not be able to keep it a secret. Her darling husband would find out and be totally humiliated.
She had to tell Tommy as soon as possible before he found out from someone else.
-----
Tommy spent much of the next day in a daze. He wasn't sure how he felt. He watched the sexiest shit ever the night before. His gorgeous wife, Kristen, had actually fucked old Coach Stevens in a dirty, raw sexual romp. Didn't she hate him with a capital H?
If it had just been the sex, he would have enjoyed watching and been tempted to tell her about his many cuckold fantasies. He'd also had a set of dirty fantasies that went back years. He snuck into his dad's bedroom and borrowed his Penthouse Letters many times loving the cuckold stories they always contained.
He wasn't sure how he could have expected a sexual tryst between Kristen and Coach to go. Well, first, he never expected her to do it, but if she did, he would have thought it'd be quick and fast and simple, not slow and hard and so fucking hot.
The one thing that really bothered him was that she told Coach she "loved" him. Holy fuck, that was the very last thing on earth that Tommy ever expected to hear come from Kristen's mouth. She loved Coach. Fuck.
He wasn't even sure how he felt about the whole thing. Clearly he let it happen. She was acting so strange when he left. He could have said something about the excitement she was displaying. She had been looking forward to Coach's visit although she never would have admitted it. Still, the right word might have given her pause and stopped what ended up happening.
He had two voicemails from his wife, asking him to call her. The first was normal, the second was more frantic. What was she going to say? Would she act as if nothing happened? Would she confess and apologize? Or worse, would she confess and leave him?
He was afraid to call back. He wasn't looking forward to a Dear John phone call.
-----
Kristen was trying to make something to eat. She had to eat even though she was too on edge for it. What to eat? Too late for breakfast, too soon for lunch. She opened the refrigerator and looked inside. Cucumbers, zucchini, summer squash, carrots and bottles of every shape and size. Christ, everything reminded her of a dick.
One beer left. Kristen wasn't really a beer drinker, but she picked up the bottle. It was cold, but it was smooth. It was thin and tall. Phallic. Was that all she could think of? A penis, cock, dick, prick, tool, johnson, organ, wang. Goddammit! Stop!
She grabbed the churchkey from the door, flipped the top off and downed the beer. Breakfast of champions. She took the bottle and headed to the bedroom.
Kirsten laid back against her pillows once more. She might never get out of bed again, she thought, as she closed her eyes again and another image filled her mind. Coach was sitting back on the bleachers in an empty football stadium late at night. His sweatpants were down around his ankles and his big cock was waving in the air. My God, it was beautiful.
He signaled to her with a crooked finger. Come here. Come to me. She walked up the bleachers slowly toward him. She looked down and noticed that she was completely naked, but she kept climbing towards that huge cock. She felt no embarrassment, only sexual heat. It's all she wanted, to be loved by that man with that cock.
She knelt before him. The hard wood hurt her knees, but she didn't care. She would do anything for him and this was what he wanted. In her mind, she was leaning forward and taking his cock in her mouth, but in her bedroom, she was sucking on the mouth of that beer bottle. "Good girl," she could hear Coach say in her mind. "My beautiful girl, my princess, my love."
That bottle, now warm from her mouth, found a different target. She rubbed it lightly over her clit. Back in her fantasy, she was the one leaning back against the bleachers now, and Coach was between her legs, licking her lightly, lovingly. "I love you, Coach. I love you, baby."
She came again.
