Football Practice

It was 4.30ish, Friday afternoon, on a south London college playing fields. The rain was slashing down, and fifteen college boys are finishing their football practice. Stray balls were being rounded up, and the group was gathering around the teacher taking the session, Miss Beckett.

'Alright boys,' she had to raise her voice to make herself heard. 'Five laps, then inside. Last one back has to do five more.'

There was a groan from the group. They' had their kick about, and they all just wanted to get back inside, in the warm and dry. They all trudged off, in a large group, almost huddling together for warmth.

Miss Beckett shook her head, and at the end of the first lap yelled, 'Do you all want extra laps? Pick up the pace!'

This was her first teaching job. She was 24, and fresh out of university. There weren't any male P.E. Teachers at this school, so she had volunteered to be the football coach. She enjoyed the game, and she enjoyed the company of these fit young men.

The group sped up, only marginally, but soon they were spread out. Miss Beckett was surprised to see Dave Anderson hanging towards the back. He was by no means the fittest boy on the squad, but usually made up for it in enthusiasm, and sheer willpower kept him up with the big boys.

Dave was feeling his hamstring. He'd felt a strain in it about fifteen minutes earlier, but was hoping to run it off, but it was still aching. Still, all he had to do he reasoned, was stay ahead of the last kid out here, and he could get himself indoors.

It occurred to Miss Beckett, as the boys passed her to start their final lap, that she had a pretty good job. She got to watch these seventeen and eighteen year old boys run around in their shorts every week, and the college issue white shorts they were all forced to wear left little to the imagination. But that didn't stop her imagination wandering.

Dave was still struggling as he passed Miss Beckett for the penultimate time. He glanced all over his shoulder, and saw he was four or five paces ahead of Alan, the teams Goalkeeper. He was a bit chubby, and was probably favourite to finish last anyway, he usually did. Dave turned back, got his head down and started thinking about the warm fluffy towel waiting for him in his locker, in the warm dry locker room.

He entered the home straight, and took another glance behind him. Alan had closed the gap. He was still a couple of paces behind, but he looked determined to catch up. Dave tried to kick for home, but a bolt of pain shot up the back of his thigh, and he grimaced, but kept going. Everyone else had finished now, and were heading back to the locker room, faster than they had been running on their laps, laughing and jostling with each other. Dave grimaced about ten yards from Miss Beckett, when he felt something clip his heel. Normally, it would have just knocked him off balance and he would have stumbled across the line. But not today. He stumbled, and put all of his weight, off balance, onto his aching hamstring, and landed face first in the mud. He rolled over twice, and looked up to see Alan pass Miss Beckett, and jog off towards the buildings at the edge of the field.

Dave looked at Miss Beckett, imploring her wordlessly not to make him do more laps. But he was to be unlucky. He complained that he had hurt his hamstring, that he'd been tripped, but she wasn't having any of it.

'Come on. Five more.'

He limped off. He barely made it round half a lap, and he just started walking. It took him ten minutes to do four laps, at which point Miss Beckett had clearly had enough and ushered him inside. They walked in silence back to the gym block, and it stopped raining just before they got inside.

'Typical.' Miss Beckett said as she held the door for Dave to hobble through. He ignored her and headed for the boy's locker room. He had to pass the girls room, and heard laughter from inside. Miss Beckett followed the noise into the girls' locker room and disappeared from view.

The boys had all left by the time Dave got inside. Only the familiar stale smell remained. Normally after a session like that Dave would just change and head home, to shower there, but today he was caked in mud from his tumble in the dirt, and was soaked through, so he decided to hit the showers here. He peeled off his sticky shirt, and threw it into his gym bag, followed by his socks and shorts. They had all been white when he put them on, but were now various shades of brown. He peeled off his Y-fronts, and tossed them in the bag. He reached up, and pulled his fluffy white towel out of his locker, and turned around.

Miss Beckett knocked on the door, to the boys locker room, and without waiting for an answer, opened the door. Dave froze.

'I'm sorry Dave, but the cleaners need to clean up in here. You can use the teacher's shower, but we kinda need you out now.'

Miss Beckett hid it well, but she could not believe her eyes. This eighteen year old kid was standing, balls out in front of her, towel over his shoulder.

She gathered herself again and said, 'Come on, grab your stuff and come with me.

Dave was dumbfounded, and starved of any other course of action did as he was told. He turned again, giving Miss Beckett a nice view of his bare arse in the process, grabbed his clean clothes out of his locker, and turned again. It then occurred to him that maybe he should put his towel on, and cover the important bits, not just his shoulder. Miss Beckett had left by this point, and Dave hurried out behind her.

He had his clean clothes in one hand and his bag in the other, so he pushed the door open with his shoulder. As it swung shut behind him, he felt it graze his buttocks, and catch the point where he'd tucked it in at his waist. He dropped his bag and clothes and clutched at himself, and caught the towel before it dropped, but it still left his backside feeling the cold air of the hallway. Rather than fix his towel, he hurried to the manager's office, and pushed at the door. It was locked.

Just then he heard the door to the girls' room open. Dave dropped his bag and clothes to fix his towel, but in the process managed to lose grip on that as well, and it landed on his feet.

He gathered it up and around himself, not looking up, but he had given Miss Beckett, for it was she who had come out of the girls' locker room, another brief glimpse of his penis. It looked to her like he was beginning to get an erection. She smiled to herself. This was just too perfect!

She unlocked the door as Dave picked up his stuff, and let him in. He had been in here before of course, and there was a desk to his left, and another door dead ahead.

'You can leave your bag in here, the shower is in here.' Miss Beckett said softly, opening the other door.

It was basically a cupboard. There was a shower attachment on the wall, with a drain underneath it.

'The handle has fallen off on the inside, so you'll have to leave the door open.'

'OK.' This was the first thing Dave had said since Miss Beckett had walked in on him. He watched her leave, paused for a second, and turned on the water. He waited a few seconds for the water to warm up, slipped off his towel and hung it over the door. He had begun to shiver. He stepped under the stream of hot water, and felt his muscles relax. He just stood there, massaging his aching thigh, and then realised he'd left his shower gel in his locker.

'Damn.' He thought to himself. He'd just have to make do without. He began working at the mud on his skin, thinking about the last five minutes. His teacher, barely older than he was, had seen him stark bollock naked, and had acted as if nothing was amiss. And here he was, in her shower. He was rock hard in seconds. Absentmindedly he started massaging it. He turned around and leant his shoulders against the wall, and slowly stroked his penis, feeling the water cascade over his body.

Miss Beckett was sitting on a bench in the hallway. She was flicking through a leaflet she had grabbed off of her desk, but she wasn't reading it. She was thinking about the naked teenager in her office. She thought about his soft skin, his tight muscles from his chest down to his. . .

She was snapped out of her daydream by Anna, a lower sixth form girl.

'Sorry, what?' Miss Beckett asked, looking up.

'I lost my hair band during Netball this afternoon, I wanted to see if anyone had handed it in.'

'Can it wait a few minutes? It's just-'

'Not really. My Mum's waiting for me in the car outside.'

Miss Beckett rolled her eyes,

'OK,' she said getting up, wait here.'

She knocked on the door to her own office, and waited. There was no answer. She slowly unlocked and opened the door. She crept in and opened the drawer in her desk. Sure enough there was a pink hair band lying on top of the books in there. She closed the drawer, glanced around and stopped. The door to the shower was wide open. Dave had his eyes closed and was masturbating furiously. She couldn't take her eyes off him. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe.

'Miss Beckett?'

The door swung open. Anna looked in. Miss Beckett wheeled around open mouth open. Dave's eyes shot open and desperately tried to cover himself up.

'Anna!' Miss Beckett finally found her voice, yelling at the poor girl, 'I told you to wait outside!'

'Yes, but-'

'Get out now!'

Miss Beckett followed her out into the hallway. Dave could hear the shouting but couldn't focus on the words. He was so humiliated. This would be all over school tomorrow, and he would never live it down. Wanking in the teacher's office! How could he be so stupid?

He grabbed the towel and started to dry himself off. His rock-hard cock taunting him with the memory of what had just happened.

There was a knock at the door. He wrapped the towel around himself and called out, 'Yes?'

The door opened tentatively.

'Are you decent?' It was Miss Beckett.

'Does it matter?'

The door opened fully, and Miss Beckett stepped in.

'I am so sorry. She lost something, and I came to get it, I didn't know the door would be open-'

'Don't worry about it. I shouldn't have been, well, you know.'

He trailed off embarrassed. Miss Beckett looked down at the bulge at the front of his towel. She couldn't help herself.

'Don't worry about Anna. She won't tell anyone about,' she paused, 'this.'

Dave didn't ask how she could know this, he just wanted to get out of here.

Miss Beckett looked at the boy. He was clearly distraught at what had happened, but she couldn't think of the words to let him know that it was OK. She didn't know why, but she stepped towards him, and took his face in both her hands. She lifted his cheeks and stared deep into his eyes. She smiled. A few seconds later, he mirrored her smile. She nodded.

'OK, I'll let you get on with it.'

She backed away slowly, and closed the door behind her. And Dave went to grab his towel, and realised it was on the floor again. He hadn't even felt it drop.