Caught Ch. 01

I suppose that to start with I should tell you a little about myself. My name is Cynthia, but they just call me Cyn, usually with a smirk if I'm being introduced. I'm eighteen and attending university where I'm studying physics. I intend to be a nuclear physicist, and I'll get there. I have a couple of extra-curricular activities (essential for those extra marks). Being what would be described as a cheerful bouncing blonde I naturally tried out as a cheerleader and was accepted. It's fun and it also keeps you fit. My other activity is being a Teaching Assistant for the professors in the Physics department. Not that I actually teach. I'm more of a glorified gopher, doing whatever is required.

That's the job that got me into a slightly sticky situation. Professor Edmunds wanted me to run off a hundred copies of student notes, about twenty pages of them. You can work it out for yourself. Two thousand pages to be copied, collated and stapled.

No worries, you're thinking. Put them into one of these big photocopiers and they'll all come out sorted and all I need to do is staple them. Here me laughing? The university doesn't have a machine like that. Or if we do, I don't have access to it. I would have to use one of the normal copiers. (Why not print a hundred copies straight from the computer? I don't know. I asked but was just told to go copy them. The professor wanted them ready first thing in the morning.)

Now the trouble with most of the photocopiers around the place is that they get rather high usage and as a mere Teaching Assistant I'd get pushed off by everyone who had a job more urgent than mine. (All of them, probably.) BUT, I did have access to a little used machine. There was one in Coach's storeroom. I could take the notes to cheer-leader practice and do the copying as soon as it was finished.

So I went to cheer-leader practice, stuffed the notes in my locker, and went and did my part. I came back after the practice, exhausted. Those practices could be rough. All I really wanted to do was get out of my costume, have a shower, get dressed, and go home. Naturally, I opened my locker and the notes leapt out at me. I glared at them and they cringed back, but didn't go away.

Then I thought, what the hell? There was a queue for the showers. I could nip into the Coach's storeroom, do the copying, and when I came back there'd be no queue and I could have the shower to myself.

With the copying started I just leaned against the wall and waited. Every so often I'd have to add more paper but that was all. An easy job. (Spell that boring.)

I was about a half of the way through the copying when Henry, known as Hank, (or Hunk amongst the cheer-leaders) came into the store room. Hank was the current quarterback, which is considered a prestigious position on the team. (Hey, I know cheer-leading - not football.)

He spotted me as soon as he walked in and strolled over.

"My, my. Little Cyn," he said with a smirk. "Is this the Cyn bin?"

"Very clever," I drawled. "The first time I've heard that one. Today."

He just grinned at me.

"So what are you doing here?" he asked.

I looked pointedly at the photo-copier, churning away.

"Reproducing," I said, with a smirk of my own.

He laughed.

"Rather boring, the way you're doing it," he said. "You need something to take your mind off it."

"You think?"

"I know," he said softly, still smiling, and leaning towards me.

If I didn't duck, Hank was going to be kissing me, and he already had a girlfriend. I was bored rigid. Why would I duck?

I was quite right. Hank kissed me. He wasn't rough about it. Just a gentle meeting of lips, which I found myself answering. Hey, he was a friend. What's wrong with a kiss between friends? Or two or three? He kept on kissing me and I kept right on kissing him back. It was fun.

I should have expected the wandering hands. Come to think of it, I did expect the wandering hands. I'd probably have been insulted if they hadn't wandered. His hand closed over my breast and I giggled and pushed it away. A few more kisses and a few more touches and his hand became reluctant to be pushed away, and I didn't force the issue. It was harmless and, like I said earlier, it was fun.

I'm not exactly sure when he undid my bra. One moment his hand was stroking my breasts through my top, then the next his hand was coming up inside my top and inside my bra and closing over my naked breast. I started at that and pulled at his arm but he didn't move it, just cupping my breast and looking at me.

I gave a sigh and put on a slightly grumpy face but let his hand remain where it was. I was feeling deliciously naughty, and his hand felt fine, stroking my breasts. I didn't even protest too much when he lifted my top, exposing my breasts. Perhaps I should have, but I just watched while he bent down and kissed them.

After letting him kiss them, I couldn't really object when he kept on playing with them. I did object, though, when he let his free hand lift up the front of my dress and start rubbing me through my panties. Even with those bloomers that we have to wear as cheer-leaders I could feel his touch as if there was no material there.

Do you know how he answered my protest? He conceded that I had a point and said he didn't want to take advantage of me.

"This will make things even," he said, and pushed my hand against his cock.

Ye gods, I was groping Hank's cock? Never in my wildest dreams. . .

I should have known he'd just use that fact to take further advantage. Or was it me taking advantage? I mean, he had an erection and my hand was right there and I was curious to see what Hank had in the way of equipment, so I slipped down his zipper.

Wow, wow, wow, was my immediate response. He had a nice piece of man-meat there. I could barely get my hand around it. (Mind you, I guess I do have small hands, but still...)

Ha. Hank and his no advantage philosophy. Just because I'd taken hold of his cock didn't mean he had to push my panties down, both bloomers and my normal panties. He quite calmly shoved them down to my knees, lifting my skirt and tucking the hem into the waist.

It suddenly dawned on me that I was going to have to call a halt PDQ or I would find myself being fucked. Now I don't have an objection to fucking per se, but Hank did have a steady girlfriend and I don't take other girls men.

It was at this point that someone spoke.

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at, Henry?"

Wow. Hank went from erect to hide me in zero seconds. He was zipping up even before he turned to see Coach standing behind him. Coach didn't give him a chance to speak. I guess what Hank was playing at was pretty obvious.

"Go and do ten laps," snapped Coach and just like that Hank was gone, slamming the door behind him.

Me, I was standing there petrified. I mean, panties down, skirt hoicked up to my waist and my top resting above my boobs, acting as a frame for them. Do you blame me for freezing?

"Cyn, isn't it?" drawled Coach. "Fitting."

"You know," he continued with a sigh. "I just can't bear to see a dumb animal suffering. Let me help you?"

Dumb? Suffering? What was he on about?

I found out, didn't I? He was strolling over to me, undoing his trousers as he came.

"You seem so worked up it would be a crying shame not to indulge you," he told me, and he was already pulling his own erection out.

What? Coach was going to fuck me? He had to be kidding. He was a fat old man. Nothing like an athlete like Hank.

I was staring at him in shock and a little voice started whispering to me. "Actually, he's only about forty," it whispered, "and that's not fat, it's muscle. Look at the size of him. Look at the size of him down there."

I took that last hint and glanced down. Coach was a lot beefier than Hank. All over it seemed. Still, for all that (and there was a lot of it), no way.

"Ah, listen, Coach," I said and he promptly interrupted me.

"Not now, Cyn," he said firmly. "First things first."

With that he just reached down, tucked a hand behind one of my knees and lifted. God, he was strong. I suppose I might have resisted, but I wasn't prepared for it. He just lifted my knee high, swinging it away from my body. Just like that my mound was fully exposed and available to him and his cock was already pressing against me.

I just looked down and there was his cock, hugely erect and already busy getting it on. I'm going, "Ah, ah, aaaah," and his cock was sliding smoothly in. Until that cock hit me I hadn't really noticed how roused Hank had got me.

Coach dragged my leg back, pushing it around him and I just sort of latched it around his waist. Then it was on for young and old. (Me being the young in this case and Coach the old.) He started pounding into me, just banging away as if he did this sort of thing every day. The way he jumped me, I guess he just might.

He stood there, his hips jerking back and forth, really driving himself into me. He had one hand on my bottom, helping to pull me into him (as if my own pushing to meet him wasn't enough) while his other hand was playing with my breasts.

I was trying to tell him that he shouldn't be doing this but that infernal, "ah, ah, ah," seemed the only thing I could say, being chanted so that it was beating time to each stroke he gave me.

I just gave up. Well, not gave up as such. It was more of a case of recognizing the inevitable and going along with it. And the inevitable was simply the fact that Coach had dicked me and I wasn't going anywhere until he'd finished. So, effectively, I said the hell with it and concentrated on making sure I was well and truly serviced.

I pushed urgently against Coach, catching the rhythm he'd established and matching it, my leg curled tightly around him, holding him to me. Even that wasn't enough. I found myself lifting my other leg and wrapping it around Coach while my arms were tight around his neck, clinging like a limpet as he banged me.

Afterwards I wondered if there had been anyone next door. If so, they must surely have wondered what was going on. Or perhaps not. Maybe they just discretely ignored the sound and the thumping wall. Whatever, no-one came to investigate.

I have no idea how long Coach went on. It seemed to be for ages, but I wasn't complaining. Eventually I could feel him building up speed and knew the end was near. Hopefully for me as well as for him. Then I knew I was going to climax. I could feel it in my bones. I was going to come and when I did I would scream.

An easy solution. I bit Coach. Hard. You can't scream while you're biting someone. I was shuddering and biting, and I could feel Coach's cock throbbing inside me and hear his little words of love.

"Stop biting, you little bitch. What are you, a vampire?"

Afterwards I was terribly apologetic. There wasn't much blood, I told him, and if he kept his collar up no-one would notice.

He gave me a nasty look and indicated the photo-copier.

"I believe you're supposed to be doing some work," he growled. "Why don't you concentrate and stop distracting my players."

With that he went off in a hurry while I straightened out my clothes and loaded more paper into the copier. I don't know what Coach was so snarky about. After all, he'd had sex and he'd climaxed. What more could he want. Possibly a bandage, but I'm sure the bite's not that bad.