Eeping on the Team

Authors note: While struggling to get past the writers block for chapter 3, I went ahead and rewrote the first story--so it's new as of 2014. Hope you enjoy this version as much as you did the last--Love Annie.

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The rhythm of the treadmill allowed me to glance over to the athletic office. I could see the train wreck coming from here, knowing that my track coach is in there getting a stern talking to all because of me. If only my prayers that the storm would pass in time for practice were answered, then I wouldn't have this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

So I did one dumb thing. Okay, it was a really dumb thing, but I think I've been punished enough for it. I'm not going to lie, it fucking hurt to have my boyfriend of a year and a half dump me the night before my senior prom. So instead of showing up, being fawned over, and perhaps being prom royalty, I showed up completely plastered, my dress forgotten at home. Of course I got a ticket for only being eighteen and drunk, but there was this tiny little detail of the school's zero-tolerance policy when it came to athletes and alcohol.

So surely coach was getting the full rundown of Saturday night--at this point he probably knows more about what happened that night than I did. He's probably being strongly advised to kick me off the team at this very moment. I did have two saving graces--the expensive fine and alcohol counseling I now need to get, and that's without counting the fact that Coach Tanner was one of those guys who always offered a second chance for students to learn from their mistakes.

And this is the only mistake I've made in high school, one fucking lousy weekend and all my hopes for the end of senior year could be gone in a heartbeat. Last season I placed in two sprint events at state, and I was easily clocking the fastest times all year--a state championship was in my grasp until this happened.

My treadmill beeped and slowed down--the training program I was running was complete and I knew that it was time to end practice. Looking around I see many of my teammates heading to the office--the administrators were thankfully leaving, but that didn't make things any less awkward. As we all gathered around it took a minute before Coach Tanner finally got up from his chair and came out to address us.

Coach started his usual end of practice pep talk that I've heard a hundred times before--though I'll admit that I was surprised he seemed completely calm and rational. As he dismissed us he added, "Lacey, come and see me when you've showered." There was some muttering from my teammates and friends, but I only sighed and headed into the locker room.

You ever have one of those showers where even though you know it has to end you just take your time--this was one of those moments. I probably washed my hair no less than four times and every other part of my body at least three before finally shutting the water off. By the time I was sitting on a bench wrapped in towels contemplating the stitching of my socks, everyone else had gone. In a lot of ways I'm very strong, but the dressing down I was about to receive was something that I didn't want anyone else to witness.

I very methodically dressed and placed my dirty clothes into my gym bag before heading out of the locker room. When I reached the athletic office and knocked, Coach T quickly called me in. I closed the door behind me as he motioned to the seat next to him. Of course he started talking about how much pressure he'd been put under to remove me from the team--I'm sure there were even specific words he was saying that might stand out, but my head was so awash with stress and anxiety I'm not really sure I heard any of them.

So yeah, I did the normal pleadings and such that would be expected--even though the words were mine I didn't register them as coming from my mouth, the whole experience so surreal that it felt I was watching a movie, not living this.

Finally he sighed. "I'm sorry Lacey, I don't think there's anything I can do."

Now I know the normal cliche thing to say at this point in time would be that I'd do anything for a chance to stay on the team--I honestly would too, but my mind didn't figure that would work. I quickly glanced out the windows, seeing there was no one else left in the area. Seeing that it was just the two of us, I looked my track coach in the eye and said, "Would a blowjob change your mind?"

Coach Tanner was normally rather unflappable, but he was clearly shaken by the question. Okay, confession time--I don't think of myself as a slut, but I do have a not totally undeserved reputation as my class's blowjob queen. So okay, it's a small high school so it's not like there's tons of competition, and I'm sure that in the great scheme of things I'm merely average, but for my dumb town I was pretty damn good.

The only complaint about my skills at giving head actually came last year at state. My last race was the 400 meter. A cute guy from another school in a town I didn't know existed thought that three of his teammates (who all made it to the final round) would easily beat me--so we bet on it. I don't even recall what I was to win, but suffice it to say I got tripped up near the end and managed to pull out fifth place--so he won a blowjob from me. His was the longest cock I'd ever taken, and his complaint was that I couldn't deep throat it like he wanted. That's it, the only complaint I've had. Even my asshole of a now-ex boyfriend shot a load down my throat not five minutes before he dumped me just so he could savor one last blowjob before tossing me aside.

When coach didn't immediately accept the offer, I kept upping the ante--at this point what did I have to lose. I probably was off the team and I probably wouldn't get to walk at graduation. Doing a striptease, fucking him, giving him head whenever he wanted, fucking when he wanted.

"You can take pictures. You can take video for all I care."

As soon as the word video came out of my mouth Coach T perked up--I didn't know why, but something about that definitely caught his attention.

Now Coach Tanner wasn't a teacher at any school, entirely a volunteer track coach. We all knew he had a life outside of the school, though nobody in the school ever knew what it was. Even more importantly as I would later learn, none of us knew he was very much in debt to some very sketchy characters that were ready to exercise drastic means of collecting payments, unless he could procure something beneficial to them. Coach T looked down at his own messenger bag before looking up at me. "Well Lacey, it just so happens that I have some friends who are in need of video footage of a cute, athletic eighteen-year-old doing some workout and other activities. If you could help me and my friends out, I can find a way to keep you on the team.

I'll admit a part of me became a little paranoid as he said that, but then again I did just offer to be his fucktoy, this was my idea. It was also obvious what he meant by other activities. I took a deep breath and nodded, "Alright coach, what do I have to do?"

He reached down to his messenger bag and pulled out a large envelope. It's hard not to be surprised that he has contract papers ready to be filled out to make this thing happen--kind of creepy actually. He took a few minutes filling in some things before he told me to start signing and initialing on the various marks.

Coach started asking questions about free time, curfew, how grounded I was and the like. Turns out as we talked things over tonight was the only night that would probably work for the next few weeks. As I finished signing he made a quick call on his cell. I could only hear his side of the conversation while he tried to determine if tonight could be made to happen. When he finally finished he simply said, "Be back in three hours, minimal workout clothes."

Standing, my head felt foggy as I left the office wondering what I had gotten myself into. ----

Arriving back at the school three hours later, I was left wondering exactly how this was all supposed to go down--the school was normally locked up pretty tight at this time in the evening. I wandered around the outside of the gym for a few minutes until I discovered that the door leading to the mens locker room was slightly ajar. Taking what I hoped was the correct cue, I opened the door and made my way inside.

A few of the lights in the locker room remained on, and as I walked through I saw a note with a giant L scribbled on it. I guessed it was for me and grabbing it my suspicions were quickly confirmed.

'Lacey, leave everything but your shoes and socks on the floor and go to your usual treadmill.'

Well, I knew that I could abandon all pretense about this just being a fitness video. I hadn't brought any extra clothes with me to the school figuring there would be no use for it. I quickly reached down, pulling the tank top up and off my body. In my mind there was no need to stall, this was happening whether I wanted it to or not and it was just better to get this night over with.

I hoped Coach Tanner wasn't wanting a girl with large boobs--wait, why would I even think about that, why do I care what it is he wants. I sighed as my mind started to wrap itself around the realization of what was about to go down tonight. No, I hadn't worn a sports bra, but I also really didn't need to. Sadly I'm not one of those girls endowed with ample breasts. Hell, I'm half surprised I have any breast tissue at all. Mom's not very big to begin with, and combined with spending my whole life as an athlete I found myself 'gifted' with practically no boobs but puffy nipples. Most days I thought that the half-dollar sized areolae were all that really existed of my breasts. Even then it was hard to tell since they were so pale to begin with.

Moving on from agonizing over breasts that make most bug bites look large in comparison, I reached down and stripped off my panties and shorts in one quick motion. I stepped out of them and left them on the floor just as the note had instructed. Even as I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, this wasn't feeling as weird as it should. I've been naked in locker rooms plenty of times, however it was normally not the guys.

There was however a pretty obvious scowl on my face, which came of no surprise to me. Lack of boobs aside I did have a pretty good body--taut, muscles in the right places, hints of fat in others. My ass probably gained the most attention just because of how muscular and defined it was. My red hair was in its customary pony tail still, and Coach T wouldn't be able to tell if I was a natural redhead. Just a few hours before being dumped I had myself waxed bald--the ex really liked how my slit stood out prominently when I was bare.

Stepping away from the mirror I headed to the fitness lab. When I exited the door it hit me, I was walking around naked in the school. I didn't even think about the concept of cameras catching me walking across the hallway to the lab, but I found the door open and the lights on. I shouldn't have been surprised when I saw my usual treadmill--there were three cameras set up by it. One in front of where I'd be running, one behind, and one to the side.

I knew there was no point in stalling as I climbed up on the treadmill. The cameras didn't look like they were on, but I didn't let myself think of that small comfort. I grabbed the little safety card and put it in the treadmill as I tried to think of where I'd put the end that was supposed to attach to my clothes. I looked up and saw a note just above the camera in front of me and stepped forward to look at it closer.

'If you have pubic hair, attach the safety clip to it. If you don't, attach it to one of your nipples.'

I gasped and shivered simultaneously--both under the idea that Coach Tanner had already taken it into consideration, and of course what his solution was. I stared down at the little plastic clip that would soon be biting into my flesh as I tried to think of another way. When none came to me I took a deep breath and picked it up. Several more deep breaths followed as I brought it up to chest height.

'Here goes nothing,' I thought as I brought it down onto my left nipple.

I winced as I felt the plastic clip bite into my flesh and instinctively flinched backwards, tugging it out of the treadmill and having it pull on my nipple at the same time. My hands reached up to pull it off but I thought better--it was just another thing I had to do and it'd be worse if I stopped now.

My nipples weren't normally the most sensitive, but I also never had anything just straight biting down on them like this before. I did reach out and grab the dangling card and that seemed to make things a little better--what had started out as a sharp pain was quickly becoming a dull throb. After another minute I finally gathered up the courage to put the card back in the treadmill and start a running program.

As I started running naked I came to a weird realization, it didn't really feel any different than when I ran normally with clothes on. Far as I could tell, the only difference I was feeling was the movement of the clip hanging on for dear life on my left nipple as I ran--and with each step that was becoming less of a nuisance.

Naturally I kept running, trying to put the cameras and my situation out of my mind--I was on a nice relaxing jog, not having every movement of my body recorded for purposes unknown. Finally I had to look at the timer and saw I'd already been running for half an hour. I couldn't help but begin to wonder if this is all Coach T had in store for me when I heard the door to the fitness lab open and looked over in a panic.

Luckily it was only Coach T and he grinned and walked over to me. Without saying a word he reached up to the controls of the treadmill and stopped the program. As I slowed, I started to realize that even without clothes I was sweating--almost a sheen if caught correctly by the light. He pulled the card out of the treadmill and let it dangle, the tug on my nipple no longer being as it had been earlier.

"Alright Lacey, spread your legs, hands behind your head, stick your chest out."

It was weird having Coach Tanner order me to do put myself on display in the same tone that he might give us instructions on what he wanted us to do in practice. For just a second I smiled as I stepped off the treadmill before immediately cringing at the fact that I had done so. I wasn't naive--I've watched porn before, I've read sex stories online, I knew exactly what it was he was wanting and I did it. Looking down I saw that my boobs were no larger than normal even when thrust out.

As he stepped forward, nervousness really started creeping in.

"You know," he said, his hand reaching out to graze the bare skin above my slit, "I was hoping to see you running with the clip attached here, finding out if you were a natural redhead and all. Oh well, the smoothness is nice, and of course this..."

He quickly moved his hand up to where the clip was dangling from my left nipple and opened it while pulling back. As the blood flowed back in I let out a cry and doubled over in pain. I never imagined that taking the clip off would be worse than putting it on, but let me tell you know it's much worse.

"Alright, follow me," he said, turning to walk out of the lab without the slightest care that I was still hurting.

Having to practically pick myself up off the floor I found myself following the coach through the hallways of the school to the wrestling room--seemed appropriate since there was a certain type of wrestling about to happen. I was surprised to find the room much darker, save for another three cameras and lights behind them focusing on some mats on the floor.

"Take this, and lose the shoes and socks," he commanded as he held out a note card.

I took the offered card and sat down on the mats in the light and slipped my shoes off--I figured he probably wanted to see me do it on camera. Once I threw them aside I looked up and saw that coach was undressing and sighed, knowing it was really about to happen. Returning to the card I started reading over it as I stood up and I cringed. The whole thing was like a mini-script, with really cheesy lines. The porn analogy might be closest, as even really bad porn movies that try to make up a really dumb plot have better lines than this.

I finally looked up and noticed that he was undressed, and I can't say that there was much to react to. Sure, coach had a decent body, but he just wasn't my type. I didn't want to do it I swear, but naturally my eyes ventured down to his cock and I was a bit surprised by what I saw--he had what was probably the smallest cock I had seen. Well, I take that back, it was a weird give and take with him. He was thin, and I mean really thin, the whole pencil-dick type thing going on. However, at the same time for being so thin, he was actually quite long. As he walked closer I had to think about what this long, thin cock would mean. Now I'll be the first to admit size doesn't always matter, but I do at least prefer a shorter, thicker cock normally, long can be problematic.

I saw him moving around and lying on the ground behind me, positioned so that his head was in the dark and his cock was standing up right in the middle of the spotlights.

"Go ahead and start reading your lines Lacey."

I nod and turned to face the center camera. Putting on my best enthusiastic face, I started reciting what he had written.

"Hi, my name is Lacey. I'm eighteen-years-old and a senior in high school Tonight you get the pleasure of watching as I give," I paused for a second as I looked down at the card, "Oliver," another pause as I hesitated over the dumb name Coach Tanner had chosen for himself, "the most fucking fantastic night of his life. "I think it's time for my slutty mouth to greet him in the only way it ever should."

Oh god, the lines themselves made me want to gag and I didn't even have coach's cock in my mouth yet. He motioned for me to come over and stand between his legs. He sat up, looking at my pussy a little more closely before commanding, "Now turn around and bend over, touching your toes."

I did as ordered, turning to show off my ass to him before bending over to easily touch my toes. A small part of me wanted to be prideful in that moment that I could touch my toes, but then I realized that I was fully exposed to coach and the camera that was behind his head. While the camera in front of me saw me bend over and the one to my side caught my silhouette, the one behind me, and of course coach himself were getting a perfect view. I never imagined that I'd ever be modeling off the most intimate parts of my body on camera.

"Hold," he said, as if I were just stretching.

I already felt exposed, but I felt an electric shock go through my body as his warm finger, already wet from something, dove right in and penetrated the folds of my pussy.

"Mhmm, I'm glad to see that sweet slutty Lacey is already wet, how nice is that?"

Okay, so yeah, I was a little wet. I mean I hadn't had any action in a week, the pain in my nipple (I'll admit I always liked having my hair pulled during sex), and just how wrong this whole thing was. I always got a little turned on when I read or watched erotica where the girl wasn't the most willing participant, and how I was getting a dose of it in real life as I felt the finger poke and prod and explore my wet pussy before finally being withdrawn.

"How about here, is this hole just as excited to meet me too?" he asked me as his finger started prodding at my asshole.

"No, not there, never there," I replied quickly as my body tensed up. Even though I've had plenty of sex, and given more blowjobs than I could ever possibly count, my butt was strictly exit only. I mean, I had friends who had done it, and enjoyed it, but it was not something I wanted to deal with due to my small body. I was enough of a slut as it was, the last thing I needed was to overhear guys talking about buttfucking me like they did at times with other girls.