You nod with approval as Debbie touches the wall. While her speed hadn't improved much, her stamina certainly had. Her overall times lately had been neck and neck with Jessica's, and even came close to Hillary's once. If the rest of them had half her dedication, you wouldn't be half as worried about the upcoming season. Also, Debbie has seemed less deferent to the others in recent weeks, you've noticed. More confident.
If only things were going as well with the other girls. In the interest of fairness, you'd opened these late night practice sessions to everyone, but Debbie was the only one whoever came. The other girls loved to race, but with the exception of Erin, that's all they were interested in. She couldn't reliably get them to do laps, weights, stretches, or anything else really. All they wanted to do was race each other, with side bets and forfeits that grew increasingly bizarre and discomforting. You'd later learned that Debbie left her underwear in her locker because she'd lost a race to Hillary, way back on that first day, and that wasn't even the worst of it. You only ever learned of these things after the fact, and never with anything concrete enough to take action, but you've heard of losing girls being forced to wait on the winners, kiss their feet, call themselves names ... all sorts of humiliations. If you knew what to do about it, you would have put a stop to it long ago.
The problem was, you couldn't just put a stop to the races, or the forfeits. You needed them. The only way you could get half of these girls to do any of the things a swimmer needs to do besides actually swimming is to beat them and sentence them to it. You were in better shape than you'd been since you stopped competing because of it. You'd even had to cancel practice one day when you injured your shoulder. You couldn't bear to even think about setting foot in that pool at less than 100%. The races were the only hold you had on these girls. The only way you could get them to do any real work. Erin, though willing to work, was too stubborn to listen, and followed her own program she'd gotten from the previous coach. Hillary had entirely too many activities going on to give any one the effort it deserved, and Jessica was, quite frankly, lazy.
Those were worries for another day, though. Tonight was Debbie's extra practice. You'd come to enjoy coaching someone who actually wanted to be coached. Debbie hadn't missed one of these extra sessions, and the proof was on the clock. “Great work, Deb. That's enough for tonight. Stretch, shower and soak, alright?”
“Ok, Miss!” Debbie called out as she set out across the pool towards the locker room with long, powerful strokes. Pulling herself onto the deck into the chill night air, Debbie goes into the series of stretches you've showed her, starting from the shoulders and working her way down. You tell yourself that you're watching her to make sure she's doing them properly, but that doesn't explain why you're holding your breath.
Finally, after an agonizing eternity of watching your young charge's body flex and contort in front of you, Debbie hops up and pads off to the showers. Sighing, you lean against the diving platform for a moment. You still don't know why you keep reacting this way to the girls ... especially to Debbie, but you know it's wrong, you know you're strong, and you know you're absolutely NOT touching yourself right now. You can't be.
Shamefacedly pulling your hand out of your suit, which you wore even though you've never set foot in the pool during one of these sessions. You busy yourself by cleaning up and squaring everything away for the full team practice tomorrow. It will be a big one. All of the girls had challenged you to individual races, and you need to be in top form.
It'll be a tiring day, but you know you can do it. Erin actually sets a faster pace than you do, but none of them can match your stamina. As long as you set the order of the races (and you are the coach), you'll be fine. Erin first, while you're fresh, then Hill, obviously. For now, it would probably be best to give Debbie the last race of the day. She was much improved, but Jessica had been concentrating on shorter distances lately, where she wouldn't fade as much late. Debbie would manage a longer event just fine, but couldn't come close to matching your speed.
Your thoughts are interrupted by Debbie calling you from inside. “Hey, Miss ! The lights went out!” Sure enough, You find the locker room in darkness. You prop the door open, letting in what moonlight there is to be had. Not a lot, but enough not to walk into lockers and trip over benches, at least. You can just make out the outline of Debbie's head, peeking over the lip of the hot tub and you carefully pick your way over to make sure she's alright.
“Are you OK, Debbie?” you ask, kneeling down and peering into the gloom. There's no answer, and she's on the opposite side of the tub. All you can see is her head lolled against the edge. “Deb?”, you lean forward, peering into the gloom and reaching across with one hand when suddenly Debbie's foot flashes out of the water, hooking your supporting arm and pulling. You have the briefest of moments to contemplate why you never went into diving as you make an ungainly faceplant into the swirling water.
Your hands hit the bottom, and your thighs are still up on the edge, your legs flailing about uselessly. You feel Debbie's slim, strong hands casting through the water for you. Her forearm rubs across your chest, and her other hand closes on a handful of your long, red hair, and she half lifts, half pulls you above, sputtering. As you finally get your legs into the tub and beneath you, the water runs out of your ears, and you can hear her laughing in the darkness.
“That” you manage when you can speak again “is not funny. One of us could have been hurt.” Your sodden jacket slaps to the floor as punctuation. And you stare indignantly across at Debbie's moonlit silhouette, hands planted on your hips.
“I'm sorry, Coach ” Debbie's voice is a pouty little girl's parody of contrition, and she's still giggling. You chuckle a bit yourself, more from relief than anything else. You flick a handful of water at her. “Well, I'm sorry I yelled. ... Jessica.”
Debbie yelps as the water hits her. “Ooh, you're a mean one, Coach ”. She splashes you back “And all I was trying to do was give you nice relaxing soak after all that exhausting standing around while I did all the work, too ...”
“Oh, was that work? Just you wait 'til next week. You'll never want to see water again” You reply, scooping a double handful of water in her general direction. You see her hunch down a bit, and you've been in enough water fights to know what comes next. There's a lip on the bottom of the tub, and you brace your feet against it on either side, tensing your strong legs as Jess answers “Well, then I might as well get even for next week too!” She launches herself at you, her triumphant battle cry giving way to a grunt of surprise as she thumps into you, to absolutely no effect. You have barely a moment to register surprise as you feel only slick, wet flesh pushing against you. Debbie must have left her suit in the shower. You don't even have an opportunity to decide what to do before the battle begins in earnest.
“Age and treachery beat youth and enthusiasm every time”, you laugh as she struggles to move you, her arms reaching for a secure hold. At the end of the day, though, you have purchase, and she doesn't. Every time she tries to push you, she slides backwards, and you expertly flick a jet of water at her as she comes back in.
“Well, I wasn't going to say that you're old”, Debbie begins teasingly, “but --” Whatever she was going to say is lost as she tries to trip you and you put a palm on the back of her head and neatly dunk her. She's bent double, clutching at your legs, trying to turn the tables, but you're braced too firmly. You don't know if you're excited from the horseplay, or something that doesn't bear thinking about, but either way you're having fun. You let her up and she sucks in great gasps of air. “Are you going to say 'Sorry, Coach'?” you ask, half hoping she doesn't.
“Nope!” She offers cheerily, and tries to twist free of your grip. Your experience wins the day, though, and Debbie finds herself underwater again. You bring her up and ask her again. She's obviously tired from the workout, breathing heavily, and struggling weakly in your group. “I'm ... I'm sorry Coach.” she gasps, and you relax a bit. “Sorry you're so old!” she laughs, and tries again to pull away. You're not having it though, and down she goes again. Kids these days, you think to yourself, giggling.
Her legs are kicking, trying to find purchase, and her hands are sliding up and down your legs. You see the moonlight gleam off of Debbie's ass as it breaks the surface, and then you feel her hand slip inside your suit and everything changes.
An electric charge explodes from between your legs as Debbie slides a finger along your lips, and your knees couldn't have buckled faster if you'd been hamstrung. You go under with a shocked moan, and you feel Debbie's lean, toned legs straddle you, taking up your position, braced against the lip on the bottom of the tub. You feel her bush rubbing into the small of your back as her hand finds the back of your neck, and you writhe in her grip.
All you can really do is get underneath Debbie and lift her, but every time your feet touch the bottom, her other hand caresses your sex again, and your knees give way. You didn't even get a breath before going under, and you're quickly spent. The first time Debbie pulls you up, it's all over. The feelings spiraling out from your pussy have you panting so badly you can't even take a real breath.
You feel Debbie's sweet breath on your cheek as she holds you upright, clasping the back of your neck in her strong fingers. Her other hand cups you between legs, sending a wonderful friction through your suit with every nudge of the current. You're moaning words you don't even recognize, weakly pushing at her slick shoulders, but she just giggles and ignores your feeble struggles. “Now, are you going to say you're sorry, Coach?”, she asks playfully, nipping your earlobe. “All you can manage is a strangled “Please ...”
You feel your back touch the edge and sag bonelessly against it. “Well?” she demands, her hand running up your stomach to your left breast. You apologize to her. You don't even know what for, but you do. Debbie giggles. “I'm sorry too. I'm sorry you didn't try this weeks ago.” She puts her arms around you, pressing her body against yours, nuzzling your neck.
Debbie stands up, holding you in place by trapping one of your legs between hers as you half float against the edge of the hut tub. She gently rubs herself on your thigh, moaning a bit. The jets add to the process, pushing you against her leg, nudging you up and down against it as you bob in the water, your legs twitching with the thrill of each brush of contact. She looks down at you as you try to catch your breath, and regain control of yourself. “So, I won right?” She asks, plucking at the shoulder strap of your suit. What do you think the forfeit's going to be, Coach ?
You stare up, your attention riveted by a nipple that's caught in a gleam of moonlight from the door. Debbie notices, and slides her hands up to her own breasts, cupping them invitingly. You fight to find your willpower. You have to leave. Now. There's no way this is right, no matter how good it feels ... |