Coach's Conquests Ch. 04

4

Bret placed his Lakeville High School tote bag over his lap to hide the obvious erection. His nylon pants were not designed to hold his cock in place like jeans would. And after banging Monique for the last 45 minutes or so on the way home from the game, his cock was standing at attention -- and needed attention. He hoped Monique would help him with that very soon.

As the tired players, coaches, managers and cheerleaders filed out, he waited for Monique to pass. She did. Without a smile. Without a look. Not even a glance. In a way, he liked that. All the 32-year-old coach needed was an 18-year-old cheerleader walking by, busting with energy, smiling, winking and doing everything but verbally inviting him to fuck her later that night. She had put on her cheerleading pants and jacket -- the clothes the cheerleaders wore when it turned cold in the fall and it became too cold for skirts and sweaters. It was usually what they wore to and from games, as well. Bret was disappointed Monique had donned the pants.

As the bus came to a stop, the lights came on, illuminating everyone and everything in sight. He wouldn't have minded getting a glimpse of her tan, sexy legs as she swayed out of the bus. But, he hoped, there'd be a lot of viewing very soon.

Bret unlocked the school door and the players made their way to the locker room. The managers dumped the gear and most got into their cars and went home -- or to wherever the party was that night.

To some, the sleep on the way home had made them ready for more sleep. To others, it was the nap they needed before going out and partying into all hours of the night.

Running cars with fumes coming from the exhaust waited at the school. Parents, girlfriends, boyfriends or partiers who had either made the trip or listened to the game on the radio were there to meet their children or friends. Most of the players had their own vehicles. So did some of the cheerleaders. Monique drove a Jeep, hunter green with a gold top that was off because of the hot August night.

Bret drove a newer-model Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo, and it was parked around back near the coaches' entrance to the school. Neither was sure of the plan now. She had cum so forcefully and so close to town that she was in a hurry to get back to her original seat. What had been said? Bret thought.

Didn't she whisper she wanted to fuck him and suck his cock and taste his cum? Didn't he moan back in agreement that he wanted his cock in her tight, young pussy? And his tongue in her hot, young mouth? Didn't he want to take that tight little cheerleading outfit off of her like he'd fantasized so many times?

He did, but he was beginning to wonder if any firm plans had been made. He sat in his office, pretending to go over stats but really he just read and re-read Monique's notes to him. "Are you hard?" one of them said. "I can see you're hard."

"You have incredibly sexy legs," he had written to her. There were others, but as he turned the page, trying to re-create in chronological order what had been written, he found that the words soon ended. That's when the finger fucking began.

He was instantly hard again. He heard voices as the players left the locker room. He tried to listen to what was going on just outside in the cafeteria. Usually the after-game parties were planned on the bus on the way home, but it seemed the long game had taken its toll on everyone and they instantly went to sleep once boarding the bus. So perhaps the party was being planned right now. Bret heard someone mention the rock quarry, a lake, someone's basement. The coach thought he heard one of the players even mention the dugouts on the baseball field. He heard one female voice, but it wasn't Monique's. At least he didn't think it was.

He waited until his cock's hardness disappeared, which was a long wait since he was anticipating being with Monique. He entered the cafeteria to see three football players, one manager and a cheerleader, Renee'.

They quickly stopped talking when they saw him, gathered their belongings and headed out. He made a quick sweep through the locker room, the cafeteria and then upstairs to the parking lot. It was empty. Completely empty. Well, except for Jed Pullman's 1967 Mustang. It was parked in its usual place. Had been for 2 years. It didn't run.

Other than that, the lot was empty. No Jeep. No Monique. Disappointed, Bret returned to the locker room, hoping perhaps she'd parked around the corner and sneaked back into the school. He looked around, but didn't dare call out her name. She simply wasn't there. He grabbed his stat sheet and tote bag and quickly checked the phone, but there were no messages. She had gone to the party, wherever it was. He jumped in his Laredo and headed home, past the Pizza Palace, which was closed. It stayed open after home games, but after a long bus ride back, it didn't pay to keep it open for just a few players.

He drove past the convenience store, seeing a few players, probably trying to talk someone into buying them some beer. It was 12:30 a.m. But there was no Monique.

Maybe she got a better offer. She seemed like the type that probably fucked a lot of guys. Hell, she let the coach bang her in the bus on the way home. But she was between boyfriends, apparently. Either Bret's finger fucking her turned her on and she went to find someone to finish her off -- again -- or it wore her out and she headed home and to bed. But he remembered, she had said she didn't have a deadline. Hadn't she said that? Hadn't she?

Bret drove past the body shop where his other vehicle, a 1980 Chevy Pickup, sat outside, waiting to be worked on. Backing into that telephone pole hadn't done it any good. It was drivable, but during football season he didn't use it much so he figured he might as well get the tailgate fixed.

As he neared his house, headlights suddenly appeared in his rearview mirror. Shit, he thought. Why aren't the cops out looking for underage drinkers or partiers? Why were they waiting for him to go by?

On second thought, he'd rather be stopped than have one of his star players stopped and arrested for under-age drinking. He slowed and let the police car get closer, closer.

Apparently the cop was getting his license number and calling it in before pulling him over. He was just a block away now, and he continued his journey home. No reason to pull over now, just keep going, Bret thought. Might as well get in the driveway and perhaps he'll let him off the hook for whatever offense he had committed.

He didn't think he was speeding, but perhaps he was. Bret pulled onto his street and signaled into the driveway. The police car followed. Bret hit the garage door button and both doors opened, with two empty bays awaiting his one vehicle. With his pick-up in the shop, he had his choice, left or right. He chose left, as the police car followed into his driveway. And then, with a burst of speed, the police car bolted into the right bay of his garage. Startled, Bret looked over, wondering what in the hell was going on.

It wasn't a police car. It was a hunter green Jeep, with Monique at the wheel. At that, Bret hit the remote, and both doors began their decent to closure.

To Be Continued...