tagNonConsent/ReluctanceMelanie & Her Coach Ch. 01

Melanie & Her Coach Ch. 01


Being the phys.ed head teacher at an exclusive Australian private school has its benefits, believe me. I've got a fairly cushy job, good money, school-subsidized rooms in one of the halls of residence, and...well the rather attractive young ladies who attend.

Now before you jump straight to the end of my story, accusing me of some simplistic set-up and hackneyed scene from some fantasy copied out of a Penthouse Forum from the 80s, let me state quite categorically I have never ever felt any mad lust for the female students I teach. I've a fiancé who keeps me satisfied, and to be honest it's bloody hard to even countenance some shenanigans with a cute little Year 11 or 12 student due to the very strict policing of teacher/student fraternization by the school's principal. And let's not forget the cops take a dim view of a 38-year-old teacher doing something he shouldn't sexually with 18-year-old girls. But, this was all before I met Melanie.

Melanie had come to our school on a scholarship from country South Australia, where she had excelled in soccer. Her mother couldn't afford the fees normally charged by our school (her father had died in a farming accident when Melanie was only 6), but the local member of parliament was an old girl of St ----, and she had heard about how good Melanie was and thought she could score some points with her constituency by lobbying on behalf of the local athlete. Melanie had been caught up in the excitement like any country kid dazzled by the chance to travel to Sydney, and was not a little cock-sure about her ability. Her mother's doubts were assuaged by the M.P. who kept telling stories about the excellent sporting, academic and moral environment her alma mater offered. And, the final kicker was that aside from the financial benefit one of our recent graduates had just secured a position at the Australian Institute of Sport. I don't want to sound immodest, but I made sure that Cathy (my star in the state championship team of 3 years ago) excelled so she could fulfill her potential.

So when Melanie arrived at my staffroom office, with Principal McGlashen I wasn't totally unprepared for the kid from the back blocks who was supposedly the best 18 year old striker in South Australian girl's soccer. What I wasn't prepared for was how pretty she was. In her white blouse, red tartan skirt and sensible new black shoes and white anklet socks she was like a red headed Lolita. Not too tall, but certainly more athletically built than other 18 year olds, I couldn't help but notice the swell of a slightly larger than normal teenage bust. Catching myself before I stared too long, I welcomed the principal and Melanie into my office.

"Hello Principal...is this the star recruit you promised me?"

McGlashen smiled paternally at Melanie, "Yes Mr Daniels, Melanie Ryder is her name, though I know you already have her details from the registrars office. I want you to take special care of her...she could get this school back on the state champions scoreboard in a way not seen since 2002. And between you and me," (he leaned closer to me, trying but not really succeeding to speak sotto voce in front of Melanie) "we need good stories like Miss Ryder's to get some decent press and maybe drag in a few more wealthy kids."

I nodded agreeably, as McGlashen was a decent principal if a little avaricious, and of course he signs my pay cheques. Then, I turned to the girl who was trying to look uninterested in her teacher's conversation.

"Well Melanie...I've heard good things about you. But (and I winked at McGlashen as I said this), me and the team at St ---- don't give a lot of credence to P.R. stories from backwater newspapers or some self-promoting politician. It'll be in the classroom, and in my case on the soccer field where you'll need to prove yourself. Give me your best and I'll get you where you want. Slack off or try and slide through with minimum effort and I'll make sure you go back to your tiny dusty town and you'll only get a job as a check out chick. Understand?"

Melanie looked at me blushing, taken slightly aback. Her sporting talent and probably her looks had gotten her so far, further than she possibly expected considering her background. Now, she was facing a reality that was more intimidating than she expected. Of course I was laying it on a bit, but I thought from the get go I'd get her to understand who was boss.

"So...do you understand Miss Ryder?"

"Yes sir, Mr Daniels sir" she stammered in a nervous, light voice.

McGlashen interposed before I could say anymore, or look into Melanie's sapphire blue eyes or stare at her trim body. "Come along Melanie. Chemistry starts in 10 minutes and Mr Boznak doesn't like his lessons interrupted. Mr Daniels will no doubt grab you for soccer practice tomorrow."

I smiled at the principal, gave a curt little nod to Melanie, and then returned to my paperwork, as the two turned and then strode down the corridor to the science block. As I heard their footsteps receding, all I could see in my mind was the very perky look of Melanie in her uniform. Daydreaming about her naked gave me an almost instant hard-on, and it took at least half an hour of writing up Year 7 evaluations to cool my lust.

Chapter 2

Unsurprisingly, it took a little while for Melanie to settle in. Her first few weeks at St ---- was without a doubt a shock to her system. I heard some stories about how some of the rich bitches from her history class had given her the cold shoulder, and her English teacher Miss Jones told me Melanie's academic skills were probably half a year at least behind her classmates. But all her supervising teachers, when they submitted Melanie's first term evaluation to McGlashen committed on how driven she was to achieve something. And unlike her ability in absorbing calculus, William Shakespeare, ketones and Keynsian economics, she was a pure natural on the soccer pitch.

By the middle of second term we were running neck and neck with Our Lady of Dolours in the state soccer championship, with an impressive 12 wins and 2 draws. In almost every game Melanie had scored at least once, and in an amazing effort down in Wollongong on a wet and miserable Thursday afternoon she slotted home four into the net. Her talents both won her friends and enemies on the team, and as you can imagine some petty schoolgirl jealousies sometimes meant she wasn't given the support she needed on the field. But motivated by a combination of a desire to see my team succeed, plus a growing desire for Melanie, I made sure that any hint of ill-discipline or willfulness from Melanie's team mates was squashed with a selective words, the occasional sacking from the squad, and in the case of Eliza Phillips (the eldest daughter of a property developer on Sydney's Northern Beaches) when I heard her abuse Melanie in training one day I actually asked McGlashen to suspend her from all sport and extracurricular activities until Phillips apologized to me, Melanie and the rest of the team at school assembly. McGlashen raised his eyes when I asked this, but submitted to my request because he thought I was only doing what he asked for. Support in his drive to keep Melanie as a poster girl for school recruitment.

Now Melanie herself, well she sometimes looked at me or spoke in a way that was circumspect about how I was coaching her. She never complained about my endless drills for dribbling, took notes when we watched some video of each opponent team, and sometimes gave me a look that would kill if I took her off earlier than she wanted because I was trying to protect our best asset. Aside from a few 'Yes Mr Daniels' and the occasional pleasantries passed between coach and student after a win, we didn't talk too much. Then again, I wasn't interested too much in what she had to say. I was more and more obsessed with how she looked, how she performed on the field, and secret fantasies involving her and I fucking our brains out.

It would probably have kept on like this till the end of the soccer season if it wasn't for a phone call I received from an old mate of mine who was a leading coaching assistant for the Australian women's soccer team. Bill rang me because he'd heard on the grapevine about this red haired kid who was developing into an Aussie answer to Mia Hamm, and he wanted to know more.

"So...what's the drum Andy? That Ryder kid any good or what?"

I smiled at Bill's eagerness "Not too bad mate. She's got a good right boot, can also score with the left and isn't frightened of using her brain when there ain't an obvious path to the goal. With the right supervision she could be worth taking along to Beijing."

Bill's voice was loud and laughing "Christ...it'd be great to finally have someone who can put the ball in the back of the net. Some of the older types in the national team are getting as slow as buggery, and between you and me sometimes I wonder if selections are made because of lezzo politics instead of real frigging talent."

The rumours about female soccer players' sexuality was always out there, and Bill and I had heard at least one story about a senior national player being caught in flagrante delicto with a Cambodian girl in the change rooms at an Asian invitational tournament about 3 years ago. "Gotta laugh at you and your soccer boot wearing rug munches Bill," which I did "maybe I better not let Melanie out of my sight till she's a card carrying heterosexual."

We both laughed inanely at my unapologetically sexist joke, before we swapped some more details and stories. The upshot was I convinced Bill to attend our top of the table clash on the following Saturday against Our Lady. And when I put down my phone, I smiled a true smug shit-eater's grin as you may say. For I'd finally worked out a way to see what I could do for my favourite star player.

Chapter 3

On the Friday afternoon before the big game I ran our weekly training session as per normal. Some running, a scratch match between the front 11 and the reserves, a bit of ball control work, penalty taking and finishing up with some sit-ups. The ground was muddy and in the process all the girls got dirtier than they would have liked. But the promise of hot showers and a night relaxing back in their dorms kept them going till the 2 hours were up.

Standing on the sideline, with dusk falling I watched the girls run around. Melanie stood out like a sore thumb, with the ball sometimes stuck to her as if it was made of steel and her feet magnets. I couldn't help but stare at the way her top clung to her bouncing tits, mentally calculating them to be about a C cup. Thankfully Melanie and the others were too obsessed with closing out the training session to see me perving.

It was time. Blowing my whistle I then called over to the girls. "Come on...that's enough. Save it for the game now girls." Waving the last players down, I indicated to them to head for the showers. "Go on...get cleaned up. You all look like you've been dragged through the mud...if only your boyfriends could see you!" I laughed as I poked a little fun at my teenage charges. I knew most of the 18 year old girls in my squad were seeing either boys from St Dominics, or may have had a feller going to the local uni. Except for, I thought, Melanie.

"Melanie," I said as I walked over to her "Can I have a word with you now please." She looked at me with surprise. "In my office thanks." Before she could answer I turned and walked back to my staff room. I expected her to understand this wasn't an invitation, but an order from her soccer coach. She followed, still wet and dirty from the muddy soccer pitch.

When I entered my office I could almost feel the back of my neck tingling from the quizzical look Melanie was giving me as she followed. I stayed silent as I turned to meet her, but offered a small smile. "Close the door please Miss Ryder." Melanie did so. "Come here." She walked over, the clack-clack of her soccer boots echoing on the tile floor.

"You know Melanie, I'm very pleased at your efforts," I said as I sank into my chair "very, very pleased."

"Thank you Mr Daniels. I try..." Melanie grinned, perhaps a little unsure of herself but confident in her own abilities to assume I wasn't going to say anything bad about her soccer playing.

"Do you...in everything? You see (at this point I picked up a yellow manilla folder, opening it without Melanie seeing what was inside) I know how good you are at soccer. But..."

A flash of panic sparked in her eyes. "But what sir?" Melanie shifted uneasily, from right foot to left, and back again, her hips rising and falling.

"Well, I've been told that you're failing Maths, English and Economics. And if you fail any one of those then bang goes your scholarship, bang goes your dream of going to America and playing professional soccer and it's back to that tiny speck of a town you grew up in." Melanie's face blushed with worry. "And here we are on the cusp of not just beating those snooty bitches from Our Lady tomorrow, but also I might be able to put in a kind word for you with the coaching staff of the national team." I look square at her with a mix of disappointment and encouragement. "Shame isn't it Melanie."

"Oh Mr Daniels....sir...what can I do? What...um, can you..ah, help me? I don't wanna flunk, I wanna become a soccer player and be like that girl in Bend it Like Beckham. You know."

Melanie gave me a pleading, pouty look that for some reason gave me more resolve for what I wanted to do. What I needed, even if it was wrong, morally reprehensible, even probably criminal. "You know, I could speak to your teachers. Take the blame for monopolizing your school time. And also pass on some recommendations to the AIS...whatever it takes."

I stood up and moved closer to her, her head coming to just about my chin. "You look really filthy in those clothes Melanie. You've got your skirt muddy, your boots are in a mess, and those shorts look soaked. I think I know how we can both find a mutually satisfactory way of solving the problems you've brought into my office."

Melanie's eyelids hooded her blue eyes. She knew something was brewing, but her own 18-year-old obsession to get what she wanted rooted her to the spot. "What do you mean Sir? You want me to do something in exchange?"

I smiled warmly at her barely aware naiveté, as I snaked an arm around her shoulder. "You see Melanie, even though I'm 20 years older than you, old enough to be your dad, doesn't mean I don't like the idea of seeing 'more' of you. You know?" Melanie recoiled from my touch; her face now upturned and a scared look crossed her. "Scratch my back, I'll scratch yours." And I languorously let my arm fall down behind her back till my right hand nudged the damp black soccer shorts she wore.

"Mr Daniels! I...I...what are you....?" Melanie protested, but I raised my left index finger and pressed it to her lips. "Melanie," I said using my best teacher-in-charge voice, "do as I want, as I say, and you'll keep your scholarship and get a trial with the national team. I promise." My hand stroked her firm ass as I drew her closer. "Okay."

"But sir...we...I...um, we can't. I don't know...don't wanna..." Melanie was now confused, scared but also acutely aware not just of how sexually charged the moment was, but also that I held the cards.

" "Don't wanna!" doesn't mean anything Melanie. Either you play by my rules or you don't play at all!" At which point as I mumbled this into her right ear I leaned in and kissed her cheek, my hand on her butt slide along the fabric-covered cleft of her crack. "Mmmm...you feel great baby." I couldn't help myself...my brain was now controlled by my dick, and the touch of this 18 year old schoolgirl was giving me a hard on that'd cut diamonds.

"But sir...Mr Daniels...sir!" Melanie's protests grew stronger, and a hand balled into a fist and punched at my chest. "Stop please! I can't do this!"

"Too late Melly," I drooled as I put both my hands around her tight backside and lifted her towards me, rubbing my penis throw my tracksuit pants against her belly "what coach wants is what coach gets. Or Melanie goes home..." My throaty voice was muffled by Melanie's mouth as I clamped my lips on hers and kissed her. Greedily and with a force that surprised her.

"uhhh...Mr...." Melanie's plea was lost as I latched onto her mouth and hungrily kissed her. I could feel the globes of her tits squish against my chest, the dirty jersey leaving marks on my top as I held Melanie tight in an intensely erotic grasp. Her legs kicked futilely as I kept her pinioned against me, my right hand now sliding down between the elastic of her shorts and her back. I didn't care about her resistance, I wanted to fuck this teenage schoolgirl so bad I damned the consequences.

"God...wanted you so bad so long Melanie," I breathed as I briefly stopped kissing her "feel how rock hard you've made my prick." Melanie twisted and squealed a little cry as I pushed against her, again and again. Her eyes were darting round the room and her fist kept smacking against my chest. But I was too horny to pay that much attention. My only concern was getting this fiery redhead teenager out of her sweaty mucky soccer gear, and then doing what I wanted with her naked, vulnerable body."

Melanie sobbed, "oh please...please Mr Daniels...stop please sir...don't hurt me. I'll be good...promise" and as she begged I kept her clasped tightly. Then as she tried to kick me and squirm free, my hand finally dove deep between her shorts and her panties from behind, invading her ass crack with my fingers.

"Oh no!" Melanie's cry was matched with a shudder, as I dug deeper, guiding a finger between her wriggling cheeks, trying to find her pussy lips. Like a cruel joke, as she tried to escape my hand kept shifting, violating her till, with another sob and my own gasp of success, I wedged a digit into her dry vulva.

"Shit yes....gotta finger your clitty Melly," I burbled as I started to rub and frig her cunt lips. Melanie was shedding tears in a growing flood as I assaulted her poor pussy flaps, but her flailing legs were now immobilized. I took the opportunity to slowly push and pull her with me to the edge of my desk as I masturbated her labia.

"Sir....I don't...uh...don't like this. Ow...no...no!"

"Be quiet and do as I say or I'll make damn fucking sure your scholarship and your soccer career disappear." With this cruel observation I used my left hand to tug down her shorts, exposing her bare thighs and curled up panties as I kept wanking her. "Rub my cock or something worse is gonna happen."

Melanie stared at me with a look mixing hate, fear, sadness and something else...something distant, as her fist that had been hitting me uncurled. Tentatively, with teardrops splashing on her cheeks, she tried to put her fingers down my trackpants. "Stop stuffing round girl...get a wriggle on!" At my command she reached in and found my 7 inches of stiff, erect cock flesh. "Rub it Melanie."

"Never...ah, never done...this sir." Melanie cried. Still her fingers flexed round my shaft and as we stood there, stomach-to-stomach, her small hand pulled at my prick as my fingers pistoned into the nub of her clit. With each thrust her hand on my cock shook, and her mouth let out little 'Oh's, tinged with pain, surprise and perhaps a little pleasure. I held the whip hand, and the schoolgirl tugging my cock was going to have to submit.

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