Late Ch. 05

The girl gasped as her neck was seized by the muscled man on top of her. It was done just enough to deprive the brain of oxygen, but not enough to make her pass out.

"GHUGH!"

"Yeah you like that, fuckin' bitch?" he grunted, slamming her pussy over and over with his engorged manhood.

The girl couldn't hold it in and choked as she came, eyes rolling up as her walls tightened around the man's shaft. A gasp escaped him as he felt her juices flood his crotch and heaved an almighty moan, releasing himself whilst she spasmed around his cock, depositing his sticky seed in her womb.

For a second the lovers were two thrusting, heaving animals, silhouetted in the window-light, before finally their orgasms receded.

"Fuck," Kevin muttered, breathing heavily as he collapsed on top of Terry, who was smiling.

"Was... was that okay?" he asked after a minute of cooling down.

Terry laughed.

"Fuck yeah it was, damn you know how to choke a bitch."

Kevin blushed, which Terry found super-cute, stroking his shoulder.

"You know, for someone with guns this big, it sure is difficult tryna to get you to use them."

His blush intensified.

"Well.. I just don't want to hurt you....."

Terry grinned in her maniacal way.

"CHOKE ME FUCKFACE!" she cawed, and Kevin laughed.

"No seriously," she said, her face becoming sultry, "Choke me, Daddy."

Kevin's confusion at being called 'Daddy' almost broke her, but she maintained composure as he managed a firm expression and pushed his fingers gently across her throat.

"Y-You like that?"

"....Harder."

***

Jane looked over her new bed wearing a sober expression. So far sleeping had been the most exciting, and only, activity it had endured.

'You should have brought him to the bedroom first.'

She cursed.

No, she should have controlled herself.

The reinforced hardwood frame still glistened with new varnish, heavy feet planted into the carpet.

'Finally a guy likes you, after ALL THESE YEARS.... and you screw it up.'

She clenched her jaw and traipsed back to the living room, ignoring the pullup bar as she grabbed her phone for the twentieth time that day and checked her messages. Too much to think about..

Nothing.

Jane dropped the phone, dejected.

She had sent a barrage of messages in the first few days since she had last seen Freddie. Then once a day over the next week. Then one every few days. Still there had been no response.

Jane glanced at her 'West Springfield Wildcats' jacket laid on the couch where Freddie had been bent over and railed, and the fact that practice was due to start in 5 minutes refused to enter her mind.

'Stupid.... Stupid.....'

She began to walk a slow circle into the carpet, seeing his sweet expression after she kissed him, instead of the sports-bag waiting by the door with deodorant, deep heat and a change of clothes.

Maybe it wasn't over. Maybe she was overreacting, after all, he might even turn up for prac-

Her eyes nearly exploded out of their sockets.

'Oh shit.'

Jane barrelled towards the front door like a whirlwind, slamming into it so hard that the frame creaked at the hinges.

She couldn't be late.... Jane Matherson hadn't been late since she was fourteen.

There was a brief second of forgetting how handles worked before the door was wrenched open, and Jane slammed it shut, attempting to jam her key in the lock. After two failed attempts she decided that screw it, there wasn't time.

The flurry of arms, legs, and blond cascaded down the stairs and out through the front entrance of the apartment building, diving into her Sedan.

She gunned the engine and flew out of the quiet square, but the traffic seemed to sense her frustration and became agonisingly slow, Jane gripping the wheel with white knuckles, and after beeping her horn so often that she thought her ears might bleed, tore into the car park of the training ground, almost falling out of the driver's seat.

Ten minutes late.

The unkempt figure rampaged out onto a floodlit field, red-faced and frantic, surprising Stacey who made a noise like a cat being attacked by a vacuum cleaner.

When she stopped in front of the scattered softball team midway through a drill being run by Kevin, she was unable to stop her eyes scanning the bemused faces for one in particular, but the one she sought did not appear.

'No... of course he wouldn't be here....'

She tried not to let her disappointment show.

"I am... sorry everyone... really, I cannot believe it, I was...."

Nothing came to mind but Freddie.

"..Uh..."

"Getting busy?" offered Dean.

Jane flinched in surprise, her tone turning to steel.

"...otherwise engaged."

Dean wasn't particularly well built, at around 5'9, with a healthy gut, slight greys in his brown hair and beady eyes. Despite this he fancied himself far more than anyone else did, his snide remarks usually relegated to the periphery by Jane's authority; on this occasion however, he was looking quite pleased.

She realised her cheeks were flushed, and felt strangely vulnerable in front of the watching faces, showing Dean a venomous glare before turning to their team captain, Kevin, waiting dutifully for her orders.

"Thank you for taking charge Kevin."

"No worries Coach, gotta make sure the troops stay in line!"

Some of the assembly laughed.

"You can keep me in line any day," muttered Terry as she sidled past, and Kevin blushed.

"Right, well... Batting practice!" Jane called, enthusiasm settling back into her voice.

Everyone jogged over to grab a bat as she leaned into Kevin, lowering her voice.

"Thanks," Jane muttered.

"All good."

"Oh and Kevin... maybe tell Terry to keep it in her pants."

He choked back an uncomfortable laugh.

Behind them, Terry's jaw dropped in a disbelieving grin.

"Fucking seriously? The nerve," she chuckled, before grinning and joining the rest of the team in a line in front of the batting nets.

"Let's go," commanded Coach Matherson, "four groups, one for each net, one person pitches and then switches, we're looking for clean, low contact, no homers please Bob."

The rotund figure of Bob blushed, having hit his first home run in the last match, and got a resounding chorus of approval as people were reminded of the moment.

"Sure Coach."

Jane's shoulders relaxed just a bit.

'Okay, you're back, let's go.'

"Yeah, like that's ever gonna happen again." quipped Dean.

Bob's shoulders sagged a little bit at Dean's comment, much to the chagrin of Jane.

'I guess if that idiot was going to pick a time to grow some balls it would be when I've fucked up.'

Best ignore it for now.

"Keep your eyes on the ball, watch the pitching motion and focus on the release point, the next match is coming up on Sunday so I want everyone sharp....."

Practice became much the same as usual, lack of Freddie aside, although Jane was less quick to snipe at any mishaps in light of her own failure. Occasionally she would glance at the entrance, expecting a slight figure to dash through the gates, but the entryway remained empty of gorgeous young men, and Jane resigned herself to the rest of the practice with a determination which eased into enjoyment (despite Dean's occasional remarks which seemed to be trying their best to puncture the mood.)

She was almost in high spirits as the practice finished under the floodlights.

"Well done guys, Charlene, great work, nice Bob, really coming along!"

They filed out one by one, and one in particular stopped next to her, looking nervous as she wrestled with her backpack.

Stacey, a member of the neighbourhood watch and as fit as any woman that Jane knew, let alone any in their mid-forties, had an apologetic look on her face.

"Hey Stacey, what's up?"

"Hi Coach..... ah... I wanted to say....."

"Coach!"

Jane's eyes snapped to Dean, calling her from the clubhouse.

"Care to join me!"

She narrowed her eyes.

"One second!"

She turned back to Stacey. "Go on?"

The woman set her lips thin.

"Oh, it's nothing... just... sorry...."

She tottered away, and Jane watched her go, worry creeping in. She had seemed quite uneasy.

The short walk to the clubhouse brought her to the window, and it was empty but for one occupant, idly throwing a softball up and down as he waited.

Jane opened the door and entered.

"What is it?"

"Oh," said Dean airily, "just wanted to see how our fantastic coach is doing."

It was said in the manner of a cat playing with a mouse.

"I'm quite well, thank you. Is that all?" she snapped.

"Oh I don't know.... IS that all?"

A vein on her forehead began to pop, hands itching to tighten into fists.

"Dean, do you actually have something to say?"

"Well... quite frankly Jane, this team... I think it could be better."

"I'm sorry?"

"That is to say... I think things could run a little smoother."

"Ah. So you brought me here to complain?"

"You could say more advice, perhaps."

"And what would your advice be?" she said acidly.

He became eager, clutching the ball a little tighter and leaning in.

"Well, if we want to compete with the top teams.... maybe that fat kid...."

"You mean Bob?"

"Yeah, Bob... well he's not exactly propping up the performances is he? You know, maybe he could train separately until he's lost his weight... same with Charlene as well....

She had to hold back a growl.

"..and Terry, I mean her catching really isn't the greatest asset either."

Dean had always been a dick, but it appeared he was now getting ideas far above his station, and Jane had zero time for it.

"Well thank you for your feedback, it has been noted, but this club is about inclusivity, and Terry has been one of our most consistent hitters all season, which more than makes up for her less-than-ideal fielding. If you want a hyper-competitive team then the Colts are just over town, maybe you should try out for them....

She turned to stride away, but Dean stopped her with two words.

"How's Freddie?"

Her whole body turned to ice.

"Excuse me?"

Everything seemed tighter, the walls closer, air harder to pull into her lungs.

"I was just wondering how he's doing... Been seeing any massage tables lately?"

Her vision was going blurry, the words knifing her eardrums.

"What.... what has Freddie got to do with anything?"

She tried to keep her tone level, but couldn't help a tremor in her throat.

"Oh... just that I've heard rumours. Rumours of er... misconduct in the working environment."

'He knows... He fucking knows.'

"Just.. Just say what you want to say Dean or I'm going home, I don't have time for conjecture."

Did he know about their indiscretions... or of her... assets, as well?

He smirked.

"Well I've heard crazy stuff... Folks saying they've seen you and little Freddie having some fun times in the facilities here..."

Jane's stomach was somewhere in her pelvis, whilst Dean's shit eating grin became wider, the shittiest, eatiest grin she had ever known.

"And I don't know about the sanitary nature of any of it but... I mean, what would the rest of the team think? The saintly coach and the young protégé......"

Jane tried to remain calm as seismic waves ripped through her bloodstream, adrenaline pounding through her veins.

"Is that all?"

He looked oddly at her.

"Well, I think it's rather explosive, don't you?"

'So he knows about us... and he doesn't seem to know there's a dick between my legs... that's something at least...'

"Dean, what people do in their own time is none of your concern."

"Well, I'm not sure everyone would see it that way.... I mean from a professional point of view...."

"If you have a complaint to make, then make it," she said, and made to storm off.

"Wait.... I want to be captain!"

Jane coughed, her reaction caught between shock and mirth as Dean adjusted his fringe to counter the receding hairline.

"... seriously?"

A sober look crossed his face.

"What?"

"You're blackmailing me to make you captain."

He squirmed visibly, which pleased Jane.

"I just think... things could be done a little better round here...."

She couldn't help a chuckle escaping as Dean's face began to redden.

"You do realise the team voted for Kevin."

"Well in my opinion they voted wrong."

He clenched his jaw and Jane saw the steel in it.

As hilarious as it was that Dean could be this pathetic, Jane knew having him as captain would be an ominous task. His views on 'motivation' consisted of backhanded compliments, snide comments, and in-your-face sergeant major style insults to 'toughen up' the recipient. She surmised that he had possibly watched one too many war films for his own good.

"Well, I'm sorry but the team didn't vote for you Dean, so it's impossible."

"No, you're the coach, you can change it.... and if you won't make me captain, then I'll complain, and expose you for uh... i-indecent.... Sex." he finished lamely.

"..Interesting... and may I ask what evidence you have for this?"

"I have witnesses."

"Who."

"Paris, the receptionist girl, and Stacey as well."

Stacey. She had been looking guilty earlier.... and now Jane knew why. Paris had looked odd too when they had seen her outside the massage parlour...

Her shoulders sagged slightly.

"And.. they told you what exactly?" she pressed, ashen-faced.

Dean rubbed his nose.

"Well they didn't say anything to me directly per-say.... But word gets around. My wife enjoys a little drinks club with Stacey, and I take personal training with Johnny, who happens to be Paris' ah.. consort, shall we say."

"Hang on... You have a personal trainer?"

His face went red, and he adjusted his belly subtly.

"Yes, what of it?"

"Nothing," said Jane, feeling quite enjoyably cruel in that second.

A nasty look crossed Dean's face.

"Look, I don't want to be the bad guy, but I will if I have to..... so just make me captain, Jane, that's the end of it."

She bit back an expletive.

"Excuse me... but my name to you is still Coach."

"Ah... Right.... Coach."

He said the word like it was a glob of phlegm that needed to be hawked from his throat.

"You know the team will be opposed to this?"

"They'll come around. What this team needs is leadership, not this... this fluffy openness!"

"That 'fluffy openness' as you call it, is the reason I am most proud of this team."

The determination that remained on his face was one of a three-year-old toddler.

"I... Didn't come to debate this. Things need to change, so make me captain, starting next week."

She sighed, head thrown up in the air.

'Well, considering what he knows, it could be worse....'

"Fine," she sighed, trudging away before she had to endure his ecstatic mug basking in victory.

"YES! YOU'VE MADE A GOOD CHOICE HERE, YOU WON'T REGRET IT!" he called after her, pumping his fist.

Jane highly doubted that, but screw it, what choice did she have?

'Relax... it'll be fine.... It's not the biggest problem right now anyway.'

***

Fred threw his three slices of toast and one slice of untouched bread on a plate and slathered them in peanut butter.

'I should probably get a job...'

He sniffed as he munched on the first of his three and one pieces, staring at the kitchen sink piled high with empty dishes, almost blocking the window of light and leaving him swathed in semi-darkness.

'... maybe tomorrow.'

As he ate, he turned the same thing over and over in his head:

'Did she even care?'

It frustrated him that he couldn't remove her from his brain. Her face would appear as he was brushing his teeth, reflected in the shop window at the mall, her voice sneaking through his headphones whilst playing computer games....

"Hey bro, any milk left?"

The unheeded visage of one of his flatmates, Gareth, popped up beside him.

"Huh?... don't think so, did you buy any?"

"No, why would I do that?"

"No idea."

Gareth eyed him shrewdly whilst scavenging the bare cupboards for anything his flatmates might have had the temerity to leave unguarded.

"Bro, why you depressed, your girlfriend not here?"

He looked up in shock.

"Wait, what....??"

Gareth fixed him with a sly look.

"See, I knew you guys were together."

Freddie put his head in his hands upon realising that Gareth was talking about Terry.

"Ugh, man for the last time we are not dating."

"Suuuure.... You're actually with Coach Matherson" he guffawed. "In your dreams."

Fred ground the toast between his teeth, staring into the distance and aching for the feeling of her arms around him.

'Snap out of it. She doesn't like you; she just wants to bend you over.'

He shook his head, but the glue remained firmly in place.

"Man she's so hot," murmured Gareth wistfully, as he removed the last packet of crisps from their flatmates Jackie and Dud's cupboard.

"Yeah," murmured Fred.

It wasn't so bad just thinking about her body... In fact he wanted nothing more than to think about her as just another hot girl. What hurt more was remembering the small touches, the brief handholds, the sly looks.

"Yeah, she is..."

"Woah dude, you better not let Terry catch you talking about Coach like that!"

The magnanimous wink that followed was unendearingly stupid.

Fred made to bite down and, realising there was nothing left to bite, decided to trudge back to his room before Gareth could slap him across the face with more blatant idiocy.

His bedroom was a mess. Clothes were strewn on the floor, the bin overflowing with crisp packets and used tissues.

Listless hands crawled to the computer, searching for nothing in particular, before remembering a documentary he had been wanting to stream for a while (It sucked not having Netflix, but he wasn't earning so it didn't make sense to pay for it... especially when he could find it for free.)

After some research, a grainy version of 'The Last Shot' was playing in front of him, a series about one of his favourite basketballers of all time from the 80s - Darius Gunnings.

He settled down to watch and within moments was gnashing his teeth because the stream kept freezing.

'Welcome back to single life, I guess.....'

Freddie slumped back in frustration.

It wouldn't have been so bad if he had someone to talk to, but Terry was too busy being loved-up with her new toy-boy, and his gamer friends weren't exactly subtle when it came to discussing feelings.

As he moped around the image of Coach Matherson bending over slid into his skull, and he paused, gaze lingering on the tissue box beside his bed.

'No, you're better than this, you already masturbated to her this morning....'

He could smell the musk of her balls, cum dripping from her asshole in slow motion, sliding onto the low-hanging fruit, and Fred moaned as he grabbed the box and undid his jeans like a world-class puzzle solver with a rubik's cube. His dick was quickly in his hands.

"Fuck, Jane," he moaned, imagining her bending his legs above his head, the warm taste of her mouth as she mauled his.

"F.... Come on.... Come....."

That feeling of being filled by her donkey dick, encompassed within the woman's arms as her hands wound their way to his shoulders. Tenderly bitten on his lip by her pearly whites.

So close.

Feeling her shoulder blades tightening beneath his fingers. Having those angelic blue eyes grow wide in excitement as she came closer to filling him with her seed.

It needed a push.

Steeling himself, he leant backwards, lifting his legs in the air, and slid a finger to the rim of his asshole.

"M.... Mummy," he whimpered as the tip slid inside him.

Everything released, pleasure shooting through him as cum exploded from the tip of his cock, and he 'accidentally' pointed it at his face, rivulets landing on his tongue and lips.