Gym Coach

Paul Cutter mostly hated his job. He worked as a gym teacher and coach for St. Thomas College - an small private college outside Chicago filled with the children of the elite. Spoiled brats, he grumbled to himself as he laid cone after cone along the painted lines on the shiny floor. He somewhat enjoyed training the track and swim teams for the school; the young, eager athletes hoping to be see on television at a regional meet. It was the general health and exercise classes he hated most. Especially the all-girl class he had first thing in the morning.

Here they came now; he frowned, setting the last cone, listening to the giggling chatter. Fourteen empty-headed females with no skills and no aspirations. This was the future; he shook his head as they spilled into the gym. They were mostly blond, blue-eyed girls, a brunette and two redheads thrown in for sparkle. Mostly thin to anorexic, with one average and one chunky girl for contrast. And, God help him, all with full war-paint and cell phones clipped to their fashionable spandex.

"Line up, girls," he shouted over the din, striding to the ball cart. They paid no attention, as usual.

"Soccer! Drills!" He shouted a warning, then began to sling balls at each girl. Several caught them badly (oh the whining), but the chatter died as each girl turned towards him. "One at a time, feet only, around each cone. At the end, you can carry the damn ball back or whatever then do the line again."

Girlish whines as they shifted and arranged themselves into two lines then began the drill. All in all, once he had their attention they were fine. Until, of course, someone broke a nail.

Paul dropped onto the end of the bleachers. This was one of the few things he could appreciate about his job. Watching young girls in skin-tight spandex running. Pony-tails, curls, and breasts bounced by and he could zone out for a few minutes, study their tight little asses. Imagining bare ass cheeks. Imagining himself sliding his hands over those tight cheeks, squeezing. Imagining pumping his cock and spraying cum all over those tight cheeks.

"Coach Cutter!" A squeal broke his daydream and he jerked, frowning.

"What?"

One of the redheads was standing with her hands on her hips, frowning, looking down on a sobbing blonde. The rest of the girls were gathered around, looking at him.

The chunky blonde pointed, "Marilee tripped and bumped into Brenna and Brenna punched her."

Great. The bane of his life - girl spats.

"I didn't mean to trip," the sobbing blonde wailed.

"You didn't trip, you ass," the redhead insisted, "You deliberately kicked my ball sideways."

"No!" the blonde wailed even louder. Paul couldn't take any more.

"Marilee, go see the nurse," he ordered, "Brenna, my office. The rest of you, go change and read chapter fifteen on the rules of soccer. I don't need this." Still, he knew how to cover his ass. After watching to be sure Brenna was in the office, he escorted Marilee to the hall, making soothing noises and assuring her there wasn't any swelling and she didn't have a black eye. He could hear the chatter from the girl's locker area and shook his head. They wouldn't get much reading done, but they would leave him alone for a while.

He slammed into his office, pleased to see the redhead startle. "What am I going to do with YOU?" he demanded. He circled the desk and dropped into his chair with a creak.

"You didn't see anything so it's all hearsay," she smirked, "You don't know what really happened and you have two stories. Who's to say what the truth is." Great, a lawyer's brat, Paul could have groaned.

"You're just lucky if she doesn't get a black eye," he growled.

"If she does, it's not from me," Brenna snapped back, "I hit her in the stomach." Paul felt twin urges to laugh and to yell.

"So you admit you hit her?" he asked.

"I never denied it," she grinned, the sparkle of mischief teasing his libido, "I had just cause to do it. You just didn't see it."

Damn, he was not going to think about sex right now. "How do you know I didn't see it?"

"Because you get all glassy-eyed when you sit on the bleachers," she sassed, "Watching the tits and asses."

That shot him to his feet, towering over her. "You bitch, I ought to smack you for that," he growled, incensed. She stood, only a half-head shorter than he was.

"Try it," she challenged.

Something inside him broke free and he grabbed her, spinning her around and bending her over his desk, his big hand smacking her ass with a loud crack. She gasped and he fumbled her wrists together behind her, gripping them in one hand, as he smacked her ass a second time. A third. She moaned. On the fifth slap, she shuddered, gasping, and he smelled sex. The scent brought him back to reality and he jerked away from her, stunned and aroused beyond belief.

He was rock-hard, his cock straining against his pants like an animal trying to break free, his hands shaking as he realized what he'd done. What she'd done.

She'd cum.

From the slap of his hand on her ass.

It was dirty, dark, erotic as hell. He could do nothing but stare as Brenna shook her hair back from her face and turned to him, leaning weakly against the desk.

"I..." he stammered, thinking he was out a job, maybe going to jail. Assaulting a female student. Plus all the girls here were rich bitches, with hot-shot lawyers for parents. What he'd do if some guy assault his daughter and he was a lawyer. Oh, God...

"Now you know my dirty little secret," she purred softly, her eyes dark and aroused, a tremble shaking her lightly every other minute as she came down from climax.

"You..." She didn't seem upset, but more...turned on. His blood drained south as he began to throb with lust.

"I can't get off without that little edge," she shrugged, "Kinda kinky I know, but what can you do..." The bell rang and she looked at him, tilting her head. "What about Marilee?"

"I'll take care of Marilee," Paul answered, "Just don't punch her again. After all, I might be forced to choose sides."

Brenna grinned, then slipped by him to leave the office. Paul stumbled to his chair, dropped, and groaned. He was going to be hard and horny the rest of the day. And he was never going to forget the moment his hand hit her tight ass and she came.

********************************************

Tuesday morning, a week since the "incident". Everything had smoothed out, gone back to normal, and Paul was beginning to think he'd imagined it.

Today the girls were jogging the track. The weather was warming towards spring and the sun was bright this morning. Paul leaned on the fence as he watched them circle. He kept a focused eye today. Something had felt funny this morning, like a tension in the air, and he was sure something was brewing.

Sure enough, last lap and the group began to bunch. Paul barely saw the hand, although he was looking for it, and Marilee went tumbling to her knees. He sighed. Marilee wailed.

"What now!?!"

"Someone pushed me!" Marilee sobbed. She looked around, tried to picture who had been beside her, behind her.

"Who pushed you?" he asked, as if he didn't know.

"I don't know," she wailed, "It was crowded! But someone did!" She sobbed a bit pitifully. Two of the other blondes helped her get up, brush off.

"If I don't know who, I can't punish anyone," Paul said firmly but gently. Marilee bit her lip, looking around the class. Her eyes came back, more than once, to Brenna, but she didn't say anything.

"I don't know for sure," she sighed eventually. The bell chose that moment to ring. Like chickens in a rainstorm, fourteen girls fluttered around in a panic before moving as one mass towards the building. Except one held back a moment.

"I'll be by around lunch time for my punishment," Brenna said softly as she slipped by him. His cock nearly ripped through his track suit as he went rock-hard in an instant. Hot damn, he was doomed.

********************************************

He wanted this. He didn't want this. He couldn't, shouldn't want this. He needed this to breathe. Images of Brenna in skin-tight spandex, her tight tits, her tight ass, the scent of her arousal all filled his head as he leaned back in his chair after his fourth period class. Even the rigors of a male-bonding dodge ball class didn't take away the hum in his blood.

It was wrong. She was only maybe twenty, a student where he worked, one of his God damn students. If he touched her, he'd be fired at best.

"...I just can't get off without..." Her soft voice, the image of his hand on her ass, the scent of her sex. She can't get off, like this is something she does often. He closed his eyes, tipping his head back with a groan. Now he could see her with some faceless man, this man slapping her bare ass as he fucked her, Brenna dripping from orgasm after orgasm...

He didn't even hear the door open, close, lock. He was so caught in the daydream, the hands sliding over his thighs were his first awareness and he nearly jumped out of his chair in shock. She'd turned out the light, but he knew it was her.

"Shhhh..." she murmured, tugging open his belt, his slacks. His erection strained against his boxers as she stroked a hand over him.

"Please..." he groaned, not even suggesting she stop, that this wasn't right. He needed this...

The small desk light clicked on, illuminating her red curls as she eased his thick member free.

"Oh, my..." she purred, stroking her hands up and down his hard length, the deep red penis throbbing in her palms. He made a strangled sound as her head bent over, blocking his view, and her wet mouth circled his head. She began to suck him, noise wet sounds that made him quiver.

"Brenna O'Connell," he groaned, sliding a hand into her silky hair. She began to slide him in and out of her mouth, slobbering wetly on his shaft, the sensations driving him out of his mind. He sank into the chair, legs outstretched and wide, her lithe body kneeling between. His hand rested heavily on her head and she took the hint and began to bob her head down and up on his cock.

"Oh, yes..." She sucked a little as he slid in and out of her mouth, the drool wet on his groin, his balls. He groaned again as her sucking increased, her mouth tightening around his throbbing tool. He was close, his hips rocking with her movements, his thick penis swelling even more.

With a little sigh, she pulled her mouth back and his head popped free, making Paul's eyes cross. She got up and turned around, bent over the desk, the small light shining on her uniform skirt skimming the curve where thigh met butt. She flipped up the plaid to expose plain white panties and Paul groaned again.

"Punish me, Mr. Cutter," she whispered, "Spank me."

It was too hot, too dirty. He groaned, stroking a hand over the cotton on her tight ass. "Please," she whimpered, "Spank me." He slapped her ass and she shivered, her breath catching. His cock swelled.

He slapped her again, heard her whimper and the darkness closed in around him. "Oh, yes, you bad girl," he groaned, slapping one cheek, then the other. She shivered again and he quivered, gripping the thin cotton, he yanked it down, baring her ass and slapping her again.

"Ohhh...Mr. Cutter..." her moans excited him even more and he slapped again. Her skin was pink and he couldn't help himself.

Paul took his cock in one hand, pumping, as he used the other to slap one cheek, then the other. She gasped, spreading her legs a little, as he hit her again. Tight ass, panting whimpers, it was too much, he gave her a sharp crack and she came with a cry. Seeing the wetness on her thighs, smelling her, knowing, he groaned. Arching from the chair, he came all over her bare ass.

********************************************

The next Tuesday there wasn't an incident with Marilee. Brenna didn't come to class. But it wasn't because of illness or excuse. Paul saw her clearly, watching the class run from the bushes at the corner of Rose Building. Irritation warred with sexual desire. What game was this?

After class, he strode through the halls, eyes searching - and found. "Miss O'Connell," he thundered. Students scattered. She turned, her face innocent, her eyes insolent.

"Skipping my class requires a make-up session." And he'd never appreciated the school rules more. "This afternoon, after team practices. Meet me at five-o'clock at my office." He stormed off, but not before he saw the spark in her eyes. Thankfully, however, before his cock began to strain against his pants and give him away.

He taught three more classes before lunch, then picked up a sandwich and coffee at the cafeteria. Making his way back to his office, he sat at his desk and opened the right hand drawer. And found plain white panties, still damp.

********************************************

Brenna thought she would pass out with lust. She'd been so horny. She still was so horny. First thing this morning, she'd tortured herself by watching him watch the class. She knew when he'd seen her, had all but felt his heat. When he'd caught her in the hall, she'd nearly cum in her panties right then. But a make-up class - oooh, good one, Mr. Cutter.

She didn't understand why the guys in her classes didn't make her hot. She'd dated one or two, but the movies hadn't been good, the food had been so-so, and the sex had been...well, short. She'd told the first about the spanking, but he'd just frowned. So she didn't tell the others. She just used them for a quick fuck now and again. She'd gotten pretty good at taking care of her own needs in between.

She had finished her math test in record time and slipped out into the hall. Five minutes in the bathroom, sliding her fingers back and forth along her slit, rubbing and teasing, then a few quick pinches of her clit and she'd shuddered wetly. Slipping out of the panties, she'd taken a quick detour to his office, then slipped back into class.

An unforeseen complication was spending the rest of the day without panties. Cool breezes caught her unaware and she'd almost moaned in history as the air vent beside her desk suddenly turned on. Her uniform skirt had never felt so short brushing her thighs, her uniform blouse never so tight over swollen, sensitive breasts. She debated a quick fuck with the cute guy in her French class, but decided the spanking was worth waiting for Mr. Cutter.

Five on the dot, she knocked on the door to his office. At his bellow, she entered, closing the door behind her with a snap and then setting the lock. He glared at her, his hand sliding open the drawer, lifting her panties.

"You bitch," he growled, getting up. She shivered as he sauntered around the desk. "Taunting me by skipping. Teasing me with your scent."

He grabbed her, forced her over the desk, pinned her arms behind her back and heard her soft moan. Becca squirmed with need. Heat exploded inside Paul, making him shake. He kept her hands locked with one hand, pulling her up enough to reach around and yank open her blouse with the other. Button scattered over the desk as she gasped. Too shocked to protest or struggle, she let him rip her shirt down. He tugged the blouse and maneuvered until her hands were bound by it, both his hands free to touch bare skin.

She shivered as he held her against him with one hand low on her belly, his breath rough and hot in her ear, his free hand cupping her breast. She was helpless, totally aroused by his dominance, by her own vulnerability. With a low growl, he licked the curve of her ear, tugging her nipple and she shivered, whimpering in pleasure. Oh, yes, she thought, now we're getting somewhere. She'd often tugged her own nipples raw for pleasure.

Then he gave a grunt and shoved her down over the desk. Flipping up her skirt, Paul's nostrils flared at the site of her bare ass, her swollen pink folds, the scent of her arousal. He used a knee to part her legs wider, to expose her glistening pussy. She twisted a little to look over her shoulder. The darkness of his eyes told her he was close to losing it - and she'd win.

"You're a bad, bad girl," he growled, unbuckling his belt and yanking it free with a hiss. She shivered. It was so weird, but she couldn't help wanting it. He folded the belt once and snapped it in his hands, the sound loud and vicious. Brenna moaned, biting her lip to keep from begging him to touch her. She closed her eyes in anticipation.

SMACK!! One ass cheek blossomed red as she gave a strangled gasp. Oh, yes! She quivered with need.

Paul stepped back and stopped a moment, laying the belt on the desk. He watched her watch it as he undid his slacks, as he slid his pants and boxers to his ankles. His cock was fully erect, long and thick, red as blood and throbbing with it. Picking up the belt again, watching her quick shiver, he snapped the belt in his hands again. She tensed and he smiled. This was so hot.

SMACK!! The other ass cheek was red. The shudder went through Brenna's whole body. The pleasure was beyond belief -- a sharp lightning zing right through her. Paul smiled again, his body tense and ready, his cock straining.

SMACK!! SMACK!! The back of each thigh was hit and she came apart, sobbing as she shuddered in pleasure.

Paul saw the cream ooze from her pussy and his vision went red. Gripping her skirt in both fists, he drove his massive cock deep into her hole with one brutal stroke. Brenna arched with a stunned cry as he buried himself to the hilt inside. Oh. My. God. There was a vicious, sharp, rending pain as his huge rod impaled her. But more than a toy, it was living, throbbing and pulsing inside her, every inch of it searing hot against her pussy.

Damn. DAMN. She was incredibly slick, hot, tight and he knew he'd never get enough -- but it was too late to stop the beast he'd freed. Grunting with each stroke, he pulled back to the head and drove himself in to the hilt, ramming his full cock into her tight body. She was sobbing, squirming, as he fucked her hard. He was grunting as his head smacked her cervix, groaning as his heavy balls smacked her thighs, trembling as her inner muscles rippled around his thick shaft.

"Oh, baby," he growled, pleasure hot inside him as he freed one hand to stroke it over her bare ass He felt the light welt from his belt, felt her trembling. He squeezed her bare cheek, savoring the firm young ass, something he'd fantasized over too often.

Brenna realized that once the sharp pain was gone, it was replaced by this deep ache, a hot need for more. She squirmed, moaning, the way he used his cock caressing her in ways she'd never imagined, exciting her even as it fueled the ache. The size of him -- she shuddered as he pushed deep, feeling the long hard length of him clear through the core of her body, enjoying the way he stretched her inner muscles. The feel of his hot flesh inside her -- he seemed so much hotter than any other male and she felt tender as if burned by him. The sounds of his pleasure -- this wasn't the groans of her other lovers, this was the growling and grunting of an animal.

As he pulled back, slid out, she felt a liquid slurp at her opening that was every bit as erotic as the crack of his belt had been. The tip of him was wider than the shaft and it felt as if his head caught at her opening, preventing him from fully leaving her pussy and she wondered if this was new or if she just hadn't noticed before. He drove deep again, a long smooth thrust that stretched her muscles and filled her to breathless.

Becca was moaning, moving with him, and he fumbled her blouse away, leaving her hands free even as he bared her to the waist. He could stroke her hot skin now as she clutched the edge of the desk, enjoying the smoothness of her breasts, her belly. She kept pushing back to meet his thrusts, as involved as he in their mating, and he wanted to roar with satisfaction. Sliding a hand into her hair, he pressed open mouthed kisses to her bare shoulders and her neck as he began to quicken his thrusts.