This is a true story. Names were changed to protect the Coach's memory.
Football season was over and so was my high school career. We'd won the County title; taken thrid place in the state tournament; and I had a scholarship to State College to play ball.
My life was programmed to succeed; and I had Coach Joe to thank for it. I owed him quite a few favors; and when he told me he was taking a post season hunting trip, I was only too happy to agree to keep an eye on his place and help his wife if she had any problems.
Coach was a burly guy; about 6'4"; his wife was a pudgy 5'2". Both were in their forties and had been married for over 20 years from what I knew.
Coach left on Friday evening for Montana. As I promised, I stopped by his place on Saturday morning to check on things. He lived in the country; no neighbors within 1/2 a mile or so.
I pulled down the drive; put the car in park; cut off the engine; and climbed out. I walked up to the door; rang the bell; and waited. It was about 10 in the Morning; and suddenly the thought hit, Mrs. P might not be an early riser.
Sure enough, a couple of minutes later she came to the door. I stammered my apologies for waking her; she smiled and told me not to be concerned.
Come in, she said as she opened the door. You must be freezing.
I entered and admitted it was a bit nippy out there. For the first time, I really noticed she had only a short tee shirt on. Her nipples were fat, long; and poking hard through the material. But she didn't seem to notice.
Coffee, she asked as she headed back to the kitchen?
Yes Maam, I responded; that would be great as I followed down the hall.
I took a seat on the bar stool at the counter and couldn't help but notice she had no panties on when she stretched to get a couple of coffee cups. Cream or sugar, she asked.
Neither; I like coffee black. She smiled.
Thanks Mrs. P, I saaid when she handed me a mug.
Let's get something straight, Thomas, she said. Season's over; Joe is no longer your Coach; my friends call me Gina. Are you my friend?
I sure want to be Gina, I responded. Let me take a moment to describe her. She was Italian with nice olive toned skin and black hair cut in a shag. She was 5'2" and about 160, what I would have called a nice porker. She did have a great smile and would have been a real knock out if she would drop 40 pounds or so. As I learned while we chatted, she'd gone back to school and was working on a degree in art.
We chatted for 15 minutes or so about nothing of importance. She wa seated on a bar stool not 2 feet from me so thankfully I was not trying to get a view of her pussy. Those titties were doing me in as it was. I guess they were 38DD with nipples that were close to an inch long.