.. And it does feel good. You can't hide from that anymore. You try to swallow as you stare up at Debbie's nipple as it rolls around between her thumb and forefinger, but your mouth is almost painfully dry. The moonlight catches the beads of water rolling down her breasts, and all you can think is how good they'd feel sliding down your suddenly parched throat as your tongue gently collected them. “Forfeit?” you manage, your voice a hoarse squeak.
“Oh, yes. You know the rules we play by by now, don't you?”
Whatever reply you might have made dies on the vine as your student's busy hands slip under your shoulder straps, and slide up around your shoulders. In a sudden panic, you clutch at them, letting go of the edge and promptly sinking beneath the surface again.
You kick and thrash weakly, trying to surface. You let your suit go and grab for the edge, pulling your head back above water. You feel the warm, turbulent water contact your bare skin as Debbie laughingly slides your suit down your body, and your find yourself suddenly jacknifed as it slips past your ass, and she lifts your legs with it. Even as you clutch at your handhold with weary arms, you notice the feel of Debbie's skin against your legs as she holds them up straight up.
Debbie kisses your calf as she waits, laughing at your predicament as she caresses your thigh with her free hand. You're getting more tired by the moment but you glare up at her, suddenly determined to put her in her place in a way that you wouldn't have believed possible twenty minutes ago. You try to lift yourself out over the edge, but your shoulders are trembling just from the effort of keeping you in place. To let go is to be upended, though, hanging helplessly under water until Debbie relents ....
The moonlight catches her smile as she enjoys your predicament. “Well, Coach? Do you know how we play here or not?” She teases. “I don't know about you, but I could do this all night.”
You make one more attempt to lever yourself out of the tub, but you have no leverage for your exhausted shoulders, and all you accomplish is to almost lose your hold. You bite your lip and close your eyes. “Yes.” You manage in a small voice.
Your suit thwaps wetly on the locker room floor, And You sigh with relief as Debbie lowers your legs back into the tub so that she's standing between them, and the first, gentle brush of her pussy against yours chases the glare from your face. Your mouth opens in a gasp of surprise. All thoughts of turning the tables on Debbie are covered by the rising tide of arousal, and the tiny voices of your guilt and professionalism are drowned completely. You surge against her, pushing for more of that indescribable contact, and Debbie giggles and pulls away, drawing a low, plaintive moan of frustration from you.
Panting a bit now herself, Debbie chuckles at your distress. “Poor Coach .” she says in a singsong little girl's voice. “Why is she so upset?” she asks, trailing a hand up your stomach. “Is it because she can't reach what she wants?” Arching her back, Debbie leans forward, dangling her breasts over your face. Without any conscious decision making on your part, you find your neck craning, your tongue extending ... but she pulls back again as you strive upwards, leaving you writhing in want.
“Or is it because I'm getting all the attention?” She continues, her fingers squeeze your breasts together, and you cry out wordlessly as she tongues your nipples. She runs a hand down and runs a finger between your lips, sending another spasm through you. “Oh, god,” you whisper as you stiffen in reaction to the delicious tremor running through you.
“Or is it because Coach thought she was a big tough bitch instead of a fucking little loser?” You're arching your back as much as you can, pressing your breasts out towards her when her slaps fall across them, forehand and backhand. You bite your lip and tears spring to your eyes at the sudden stinging, but the shudder that runs through you is even more intense, and you push yourself against Debbie, gaining a brief moment of contact before she steps back, tweaking your nipple sharply as she does so.
“Ooh, Coachie likes the rough stuff.” Debbie purrs as she notices your reaction. “Was that your plan? Did you want to be where I am? Tie me up and make me yours? Poor little Debbie with her ass in the air for big bad Coach?” Debbie pinches both of your nipples, pulling up until she's almost lifting you. All you can manage in reply is high, breathy whining noise. You don't even hear her over the pain and pleasure and the shame and the arousal and all the rest of it.
She lets go and you sag into the water as her words penetrate. Images flick across your closed eyelids, of you standing triumphant over a spluttering Debbie, pulling her teasing mouth wherever you want it to go ... or bending her over the side of the tub and spanking her little ass for daring to put her hands on you ... until her cute little sing song voice is hoarse and desperate, and she's begging to be allowed to kiss you, the little slut ...
You go limp for a moment, your eyes suddenly wide. Debbie leans forward, suddenly uncertain “Coach? ?” She puts a hand between your shoulder blades lifting you a bit, and you suddenly thrash away from her like a drowning cat. What were you thinking? This was a child, and you were thinking of ... of ...
“I'm sorry ... I can't ...“ you mumble as you heave yourself out of the tub and paw around the floor on your hands and knees until you feel wet fabric clinging to the floor. Snatching up whatever you've found to cover yourself with, you stumble through the darkness towards the door, rapping a shin on a bench in the dark and almost falling.
Debbie's in the process of splashing free of the hot tub, trying to follow you. “Coach , wait! I didn't mean it! We'll do it different, I promise ...” The concern in her voice almost brings you to a halt, and she catches up to you, “Please don't go. I thought you were having fun, honest!” It dawns on you that Debbie thinks you're leaving because you didn't like the way she took charge of things, that she went too far. How can you explain to her that that wasn't the problem at all, when you can barely admit to yourself what being helpless at the hands of another woman did to you?
You pull away, dragging the clothing you found. “I'm sorry, Debbie ... This is just ...” words fail you. You can't explain to her how bad you feel about how good you felt ... how close you were to giving in to her entirely. “Please, Debbie ... I'm ... you're just a kid ... I mean ...” You hear Debbie stop, her bare feet no longer slapping across the floor after you, and she doesn't say anything else.
Your reaching hand finds the door frame, and you stagger through, pulling the wet clinging jacket on as you run for your car. The last thing you hear is Debbie's voice echoing out into the night “Oh, Come ON!”
You start to calm down, though your mind still reels at what you were doing, and what you almost did. You're shivering in chill night air, the wet jacket is clinging to your every curve, sucking the warmth out of you. Your clothes, your suit, even your purse is back in the locker room, but you can't go back there. Your keys are in your jacket pocket, and that will have to be enough for now.
You have to drive by the locker room on your way out, and though you try not to look, your eyes are drawn to the doorway where the headlights highlight Debbie's still nude form framed in the doorway. Between the glare and your own frazzled state, you don't notice the oddly intent look in her eyes as you pass.
You don't remember much of the drive home, or much of anything beyond a long, sleepless night tossing and turning until you're hopelessly tangled. You sleepwalk through the next day, bleary eyed and distracted. Breakfast, classes, you skip supper because you want to clean up any evidence of last night's activities before the girls arrive for practice. You don't have the energy to be surprised when you find the place immaculate, but you are relieved. Your belongings are even neatly piled on one of the benches. Everything except your bathing suit, you realize, coming fully awake for the first time all day. You need to swim three heats this afternoon. What are you going to do?
Of course, this is the day that the girls show up en masse for practice early. Are you imagining things, or is there a new edge to their laughter. Is that look Debbie gave you just leftover tension from last night, or is there something else going on? Your stomach tenses and flutters as the teens indulge in their usual horseplay, and you find yourself almost shaking by the time you head out to the pool.
Jessica, as always, is the first to bring things up. “Hey, why aren't you suited up coach? You're not gonna waffle or anything, are ya?” she asks, cracking her gum in that annoying way of hers. The girls are all clustered around, and had obviously been waiting for someone to ask. You meet Jess's eyes, but can't stop yourself from licking your lips nervously before replying “I'm sorry, girls. I forgot my suit. We'll have to race next week. You've been neglecting your drills anyway, so it's probably for the best.”
You want to figure out why Debbie's looking at you like that, but it quickly becomes apparent that you have bigger problems. Jess levels that superior smirk of hers at you. “Aw, no fair, coach. Races are today. You said so yourself.” Her normal, baiting tone takes on an undercurrent of tension as she continues “This mean you forfeit?”
You flounder looking for a reply, on the verge of stammering. You don't know if you're imagining it, or if the girls are really taking this much pleasure watching you flop around like a fish on a hook. Hillary pats you on the shoulder in a very familiar way “Don't you worry about a thing, Coach. It could happen to anyone.” You look up with a trace of hope in your eyes, and you can't see any trace of mockery or malice in Hil's eyes as she says “I'm sure we can find you something to wear.”
On hearing this, Jess almost cackles, adding ”Yeah, break out the loaner or something. You don't get out of this, Coach. I'm feeling lucky.” The girls all laugh, and they look at you expectantly. The loaner. You were hoping against hope they wouldn't mention it. It's one of those horrible beach suits that nobody outside of a music video would dream of wearing. The girls keet it around so they can inflict it on each other as a forfeit. It would be almost impossible to swim in, even if it fit you.
You need to figure out some way to get through this day, and you need to do it now …. |