Seducing Coach Ch. 02

Intro: The second of the series, this continues the relation between Dee and Mr. Evans. It's highly conversational, and doesn't jump right to the sex, so don't expect that. I'm interested in exploring a realistic development between the characters. Hopefully you find the set up worth it when the sex heats up.

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Dee gave Mr. Evans, her former coach, a call a few days after she and her friend Bobbi had spent an afternoon seducing him at his home. Having just graduated earlier that summer, they had found themselves bored and had stopped by to see his new place, then took their relationship with him to a whole new level by having an intense threesome in his bedroom after a tour of the house. During their adventure, Dee had promised to come back whenever he wanted now that they had discovered their mutually satisfying desires for one another.

In the days that followed Mr. Evans was unsure if he should take her up on the offer. It seemed a bit risky, to say the least, to be fooling around with his recent graduates, even though it was all perfectly legal. He was pretty sure neither the administration nor parents of his current athletes would look favorably upon the situation. If this event had come to light, he'd likely never be allowed to work in the field again.

Because of this he'd been very worried about how things would proceed. Much of him hoped it would be an isolated incident. The professional thing to do would be to not allow it to happen again, and hope that the girls would never speak of it to anyone, as they had promised to do. They liked and respected him enough to protect him, and were perfectly aware of the potential danger of their collective actions.

But another part of him was ecstatic at the prospect of what might continue to be. Dee had long been a favorite of his, and not simply because of the physical attraction. Almost all of the girls he worked with were attractive to some degree. They were athletes in the prime of their lives, how could they not? But between Dee and him there had been a tighter bond than there had been with the others. Their personalities matched up nicely, and she had all the traits that he looked for in a woman: smart, witty, energetic. Obviously she was far too young to be involved with, but he had the sense that if their ages were closer, had they been of the same generation, there would certainly be a strong chemistry between them. He harbored no illusions, however, and while it was pleasant enough to think about, he knew it was nothing to be hoped for. It simply wouldn't, it couldn't, happen.

So he decided not to pursue it. In the days since he thought constantly of Dee or Bobbi and what had happened, but he made no effort to contact either of them, and had begun to think of it as something to be cherished as a crazy event that would stick in his memory. So when he got the call in the evening later in the week he didn't know what to say. As had happen the first time, it was Dee who moved things forward.

"Hi, Mr. Evans," she said without a trace of suggestion when he answered his cell.

"Hey, Dee," he countered flatly, although his heart immediately raced.

"How're you doing?" she asked with the expected irony in her voice, 'now that we've fucked each other silly' the question continued unspoken.

"Oh, you know, really pretty good, actually," he sort of laughed, trying to play along. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing much, just hanging around the house. I might see what Bobbi's up to later and go out, but I'm not sure. Hey, I was wondering," as if the thought just occurred to her, "should I still call you Mr. Evans, or can I call you Mark now?"

"You can call me whatever, or whenever, you like," he responded, nonchalantly.

"Ok, then. Mark." Then she giggled. "That feels weird to say; it'll take some getting used to. I might still just call you Mr. Evans."

"Suit yourself. I'm gonna keep calling you Dee," he said to be a smart ass.

"What?? I'm not Miss Chandler now that I've graduated and am all grown up?" playing along in a wounded voice. "I thought I'd get to be treated with a little more respect than that, being all worldly wise and mature and all. Hmph."

"Oh, alright, he acquiesced, "Miss Chandler. How's that?"

"That's better. But my friends call me Dee, so you can too," she teased. "So, I wanted to talk about what happened the other day."

Uh oh, here it comes, he thought. Either it was about to be all over, or all good, one of the two. "Ok, what about it?" he said, trying to conceal both anticipation and trepidation.

"Well," she began slowly, "I've been thinking about it, you know, about how it was a whole lot of fun, and how I kinda want to keep doing that with you if it's ok." She paused for a second, then continued, "but before it happens again I want to get to know more about what you like."

"You mean you want me to tell you what I like about sex?" he asked, encouraged by her direction.

"Yeah, I guess." She thought a second for a better way to explain it. "It's like, I know a little about what you like now, because you obviously liked everything we were doing. But when I started whispering to you, while Bobbi was on top of you, it was like a whole other part of you came out. You got so completely aroused by my talking to you, and it really turned me on to be able to do that to you. So I figure if we talk about it more it might make it even better next time. Plus, you know, I bet you know a bit more about it than I do at this point. Sex, I mean."

He'd been with a number of girls before, all of them fun, some more adventurous than others, and each with her special attributes. But he'd never encountered a woman who had specifically asked him what he wanted point blank, much less everything. Now here was this sweet little vixen, for whom he was already having strong emotional feelings, on top of the pure, raging lust he felt, asking him to confess his every desire.

"You're quite an interesting girl, Dee," he said contemplatively. She really was turning out to be unlike anyone he'd ever been with. "So how do you want to go about this?"

"Well, here's what I was thinking," her voice perking up. "I'll ask the questions and you give the answers, and when I feel like I know enough about you, I'll come back over and we can have some more fun."

"Ah, so you get to say when. I suppose that's fair." A woman in control, he liked that. "I hope I get to see you sooner than later, though. Hurry up and ask, already, will ya?"

"Jeez, calm down, big boy," she said playfully. "I'll be able to tell if your trying to rush it, so you'd better just relax and get ready to chat for a while."

"Oh, alright, if I must," he pouted. This could really be a whole lot of fun-- sexual psychoanalysis with a hot coed. Then he thought to ask, "Hey, do I get to ask any questions? I mean, am I going to get to know what you like also, or do I just have to wait and find out?"

"Oh, you can ask, too. I have nothing to hide," she said confidently. "Maybe I'll even volunteer some stuff as we go along, but only if you're a good boy an answer all the questions. So, ready? Question number one. Do you masturbate?"

"Well, yes, of course. Otherwise I'd go nuts, so to speak."

"Ha, ha," she droned at his lame joke. "So what do you like to think about when you do?"

"Well, first of all, I do it when I can't have sex with someone else, it's not like it's my preference. It's really done more out of necessity. As for what I think about, that totally depends on my mood."

"Ok," she said, "well, have you masturbated since we were over?"

"Yes, and of course I thought about you and Bobbi again."

"How about before we came over. What was the last thing you were thinking of when you masturbated?"

"I was probably watching porn, which is almost always what I do. Girl-girl stuff, mostly. Sometimes just girls masturbating."

"Oh really?" She seemed genuinely intrigued. "You don't like watching regular girl-guy sex? I thought that's what all guys were into."

"Maybe sometimes, but I'm really more interested in watching the girls get off, so I usually just take the guys out of the equation. Plus girl-guy porn is so fake, I hate how unrealistic it is. Not that any porn isn't totally fake, just that it doesn't turn me on to watch some huge cock just banging away at a set of fake boobs. So I try to find stuff that either emphasizes the female enjoyment, or even better shows actual female orgasms." He found talking about all this to be more easy and intriguing than he thought it might.

"Huh," she pondered, "so watching girls get off gets you off?"

"Yep," he continued, "It's the same when I'm with someone. Turning them on and making them cum as much a possible is what does it for me. So I try to get them to cum as much as I can before I finally have to. I've never been really able to cum more than once unless there's some time in between, like a few hours. So I make the best of it while I can, I guess. Poke while the iron is hot."

She giggled at his continued deliberately bad jokes. It was part of his charm. "If you're not going to take this seriously, mister, we don't have to continue," she chided.

"Oh, come on, it was a good joke," he protested meekly. "I'll be good, I promise, Miss Chandler.

"That's better, Mr. Evans. I wouldn't want to have to come over there and spank you, now would I?"

"Well, I would. And I've got the wood right here to prove it..."

"Enough!" she said, laughing and rolling her eyes on the other end of the line. "So, more about these girls you watch. Do you like to watch your girlfriends masturbate?"

"I would love that, but I've never had one who would do that for me. In fact, most of the girls I've been with don't like or understand the whole idea of porn, and some of them didn't even masturbate."

"What??" she was surprised. "What kind of girl doesn't play with herself? I'd never make it through the week!"

"Oh, girl, you're killing me." His pulse was racing at the thought of her hot little naked body lying on the bed, fingers between her legs, her eyes closed, cumming. "Do I get to see that sometime? Pretty, please?"

"Mmmmmaybe," she toyed. "Keep talkin' buddy and we'll see how you do. So is that your favorite fantasy?"

"Hm, maybe. But maybe not. It's just part of a litany of perversions I carry with me through the day. I don't really have a favorite fantasy, per se. Just a lot of things I like doing to girls."

"Like what?"

"Well, my favorite thing to do is probably going down on someone. I'm a big fan of a nice, smooth, tasty pussy. And it's a really great way to get a girl off."

"Yeah, I've noticed you're pretty good at that. I was surprised watching you with Bobbi. No offense, you know, but you don't expect your coach to be a world class pussy licker, right?"

"No offense taken. I think I'm going to surprise you in a lot of ways. Anyway, I'm always eager to devour a woman if she'll let me. I like everything about them down there, and I just love, um, well, to put it bluntly, tonguing ass."

"Wow, didn't see that coming," she said.

"Are being sarcastic?"

"No, not really," she went on. "I mean, obviously you enjoyed doing that to Bobbi, who also seemed to like it. And you've already confessed to being a bootie man, so I guess it would make sense. But I don't know, you seem like such a nice, normal guy. Who knew what your dirty little mind had been thinking all this time."

"Well, you asked," he said. "So let me ask you this? Would you like having my tongue in your butt?"

"Mr. Evans! One does not ask such things of a lady," she said with mocking prudence, but then went on, "I guess so. I've never had it done to me, and it's not something I ever really though about. I guess I might have rubbed it a bit sometimes playing with myself, but not really as a way of pleasing myself. Maybe that's something I'll learn from you."

"The pleasure will be all mine. Oops, I mean yours. Dangit."

"Ha, caught you!" she said. "So you are thinking about your own needs after all."

"Well, yeah, but you know, I think the fun of sex should be that each person is trying to out please the other. That's when it gets really crazy good."

"Wow, what a great way to think about it. Makes me wanna come over and fuck you right now," she said, knowing how much it would get him riled. "Ok, so tell me your next favorite thing."

His mind had leapt forward to the thought of her over at his house again, underneath him, smiling as his rock hard dick pushed deep into her yummy slit, and he had to forcibly pull himself back. "You know, it's not fair, you taunting me like that."

"Fuck fair, Mr. Evans. I am here to taunt you mercilessly, and when I'm done you can fairly fuck me. Answer the question, please. What's your next favorite thing to do?"

"Ouch." He was completely distracted and aroused now, so he said, "Well, at the moment it would be to get myself behind you and fuck up against that marvelous little round butt of yours, if for no other purpose than to put you in your place, you tease."

"Hee, hee. You ok over there? I'm sorry to get you all worked up. I'll try to control myself. So is that your next favorite, from behind?"

He closed his eyes and concentrated for a second, letting out an exasperated sigh as he regained his thoughts. His was fully erect in his jeans now, and had momentarily thought he'd have to bring it out while her talked to her, but knew that would ruin the conversation, or at least his end of it. This girl was simply the most sexually charged thing he'd ever encountered, and it was clear to him that she had enormous power over him. It was equally clear that he was perfectly willing to follow her wherever she'd take him.

"Ok, calming down. Breathing..." He managed to return. "Well, maybe, but you know what I really like, in an unspecific sort of way? I like to see who I'm with smiling. You know? Being happy, really happy while we fuck. It's the most amazing turn on to be moving in and out of someone knowing they're totally enjoying it. I mean, of course when it starts to get really heavy and sweaty the smiles are replaced by moans and animal passion. But before that, sweet smiles from pretty girls get me going."

"I know what gets you going even more." She said.

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

"Someone talking to you."

She was right, of course. It was so obvious he'd forgotten. Even now while they were talking he was fully aroused. "Oh yeah, you're totally right on that one. But hey, smiles are still good."

"Ok, next question. What about clothes? I know you like the cute little shorts all the girls wear at practice. Anything else? Do you like sexy lingerie or anything like that?"

"I love outfits. And I love keeping them on throughout. A half dressed girl is a big turn on. Skirt hiked up, dress open, shirt up around shoulders or tank around waist. There's something about 'almost naked' that beats 'totally naked' just about every time. But my true weakness is socks. Kneehighs. I don't really know why, but girls in socks and nothing else just kills me."

"Ok, wow, good answer. And you know what? I think I'm done asking questions for now. Do you want to ask me anything in return?" He thought about it for a second. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I like you, Mr. Evans. Mark. Whatever. I feel safe and horny around you at the same time, and I really like sex a lot. Not that I'm a raging slut or anything, but I've had some experience with it. But all the boys I've been with have been, you know, just boys interested in getting off. When me and Bobbi came over I had no idea what would really happen, I just wanted to hang out and tease you a bit, maybe fool around. But you turned out to be so good at it, and I can tell you really care about it while you're doing it, and you're really attentive to who you're with. So I want to keep seeing you, both to enjoy it and learn from it."

"You're a dream come true, Dee. I'm happy to be here for you." The understatement of the year, he thought. But he still had more questions. "Let me ask you this, then," he started.

"Wait, how about this," she interrupted. "How about I come over there and you can ask me more questions in person? Sound good? Good. I'll be right over." And with that she hung up.

"Jesus, what a fucking minx!" he said out loud, closing his cell. He got up and looked around his house. He knew where Dee lived, and even if she took her time she would be there in less than fifteen minutes. He did some straightening, put the dishes into the sink, and checked himself in the mirror. Tee shirt and jeans again, real class, he thought to himself. At least he couldn't be accused of putting on airs. By the time he was considering whether or not he should change the doorbell rang.

And there she was, standing under his porch light; Dee, in all her diminutive, perky glory. Short braided pigtails in her straight sandy hair, just brushing the nape of her neck, a spaghetti strap tank over her easy going 34Bs with no bra, typically tight jeans showing off her tight, youthful legs, and all the way down, a pair of Mary Janes over cream colored socks. As he scanned back up she looked him straight in the eye, the way lovers do when they know nothing is concealed, and nothing needs to be said. Then she smiled.

"Hi, Mark. I would like to come inside and talk to you for a bit." She opened the screen door before he had a chance to himself, and walked right past him into the living room, her heels clicking briskly on the hardwood floors. He half expected her to spin around and demand a drink, as a femme fatale ten years her senior would have done in the same situation. Instead she burst into a big smile, and flopped down at the far end of the sofa, with one leg drawn up.

"Have a seat," she said, motioning to the opposite end of the couch. "I have an idea."

"Oh you do, do you?" he said, unprepared for her dominant demeanor. "Before we get to that may I at least say how darling you're looking this evening?"

She smiled big again. "You may. And thank you. And you're just a cute in those jeans as you were the last time I was over here." He winced a little at his own predictability.

"Yes, well, I've uh, been employing my imagination elsewhere lately," he managed to say, as he sat as bidden across from her.

"I know you have," she bubbled, "and very well, too." She leaned forward excitedly, supporting herself with her hands clasped between her legs. "Here's my plan. I know you have more questions for me, and I might for you too, actually. But I couldn't wait to see you again after hearing everything you've had to say. And you played along so nicely that I'm going to reward you with a little treat while we continue the conversation."

Having said her peace, she leaned farther still towards him, ending up on all fours in front of him, bringing her face right up to his. She stopped an inch or so away, looked him in the eyes and smiled broadly, obviously quite pleased with herself. Then she girlishly licked the edge of her teeth before shutting her eyes, closing the gap between them, and placing a perfect, passionate kiss on his lips. She held it to the moment when it would advance to something else, and rocked back onto her legs, scooching back to her end of the sofa with her legs now outstretched in front of her.

"So, what was it you were going to ask me when I hung up on you?" she asked as she undid the straps of her shoes, kicking them off onto the floor. She then proceeded to undo her pants, open the fly and lift her hips.

"I was..." his voice trailed off as he watched her. "What are you doing?"

"The show's starting, mister, but don't let me interrupt." She inched her jeans over her hips and shimmied them down her legs. With her pants at her ankles she drew her knees up to her chest, and paused, arms clasped around her smooth pale shins. "What were you going to ask me?" she said, making it clear she'd go no further until he asked.