But it was my ass I was most proud of. Curvy and tight, it was a good two handfuls, and looked especially good in tight leggings. Which, of course, I wore as much as possible. I'm a firm believer in showing off what you've got, and teasing dumbstruck boys is just an added bonus.
I was fairly sure my ass was the reason the gymnastics team I joined first year of college had always had such a good crowd cheering us on at competitions (it certainly wasn't my acrobatic talents, which by my standards were average at best).
Nevertheless, to have my basketball coach staring at my ass, in such a way, not even trying to hide it, was outrageous and made me quite weak at the knees.
We lost the game (37-54, ouch) so on the trudge back to my dorm I had little to distract myself from thinking about Coach. At one point in the 4th quarter, he'd dropped his notes and had to squat down to pick them back up. My view, from just inside the 3-point line, was *tremendous*. Tight against his basketball shorts, the shape of his ass had imprinted itself in my mind. I felt sort of dazed thinking about it really. As I fumbled with my keys I wondered to myself - am I a whore? Or a slut even? I always got those two confused in my mind. Maybe I was both.
It didn't matter, I told myself. I needed to put him and his tight ass out of my mind, concentrate on my game and studies. It was wrong to be thinking about a member of staff like this! It was completely taboo, and almost certainly against college rules. And with that, as I pushed open my bedroom door I had a smile on my face, as I realised I was stronger than my sex-drive.
I was still smiling 25 minutes later as I gasped out "Coach!" in the shower, my juices pumping down my legs as my orgasm exploded. Legs quivering, I sank to my knees, water flowing over my head and neck, with one hand still softly rubbing my soft pink pussy, murmuring nonsense to the bathroom wall.
Drat. This getting over Coach business was going to be harder than I thought.
(Part 2 coming soon!)
