Clairise Earns an Abyjezebeldelilah©
It's the middle of my very first semester at college. I've taken a moderate load of classes, just sixteen hours. I'm in class every Monday and Wednesday from nine in the morning till three in the afternoon with a lunch break at noon and a biology lab Mondays from four till seven. On Fridays, I'm only in class till two. I like having two days a week off to catch up on my homework. I wish I could have weekends off too but I have to work. I've got an academic scholarship that covers tuition, books, and a meal plan for every year I'm in school. But that's all. I have no spending money for new clothes, eating out, the occasional movie, and gas for my car to get to all these places. I have enough money left over from the scholarship to pay rent and utilities on a studio apartment, but not enough for my cell phone bill. I got lucky when I found my apartment. Four places around it have satellite internet access that don't have passwords so I have my choice of networks for my laptop to connect to.
I'm an education major, specializing in English and Social Studies. It's a double major since I plan to teach high school but I examined my career choices when I had to choose my major and decided that there would always be a need for teachers. I'm not very good at math so that left out both math and science. I find history interesting and absolutely love to read so I thought these would be good subject areas for me. Having a double degree will also help me when it comes time to get a job.
For now all my classes are only for general education: Comp I, intermediate algebra, American government, World civilizations I, intro to biology, and a wellness and fitness class. I've got A's in everything but fitness class. I have a C in it. I have to keep a 4.0 grade point average to keep my scholarship. The C in fitness will make me lose it.
My fitness instructor, coach Bruce, gives out grade slips with every test, showing all the class what grade they've made on each assignment. So far I've made a high A on every classroom assignment and test but I've barely passed the gym and aerobic exercise assignments, and miserably failed the running and jogging tests. I'm the biggest girl in the class, which also makes me the slowest. All the others have breasts that are barely an A cup, ribs showing when they wear their bikinis for the water workouts, and hips that I usually can't even tell are there. The silhouette of any of their naked bodies would be almost straight up and down from the front or the side. My figure is totally different. My breasts are a nice handful, as are my hips. My thighs brush together when I walk and even though I have a decent waist, my stomach is far from flat. The other girls in class all wear a zero or one in jeans; I wear a fifteen. They all wear a small in juniors sizes of tops; I wear an extra large and sometimes a two X depending on the style. Most of them also have very short hair. I think the girl who has the longest hair only has it shoulder length. By contrast, my hair is almost to my waist. It's not the bleached blond, high maintenance color either. My hair is a very dark, very natural brown.
I've been doing my best for the workouts but coach B really pushes us hard. Maybe if he'd ease up some I'd be able to make it through the workouts. I always start out fine, but instead of the normal twenty minute workout he makes us go almost the whole class time. If they were just twenty minutes, I'd do fine. I can handle that much. But 45 minutes is way too much for me. I'm hoping he'll grade on a curve but I don't think even a big curve would be enough to bring my grade up from a very low C to an A. I'm going to have to try to talk to him about some easy extra credit.
I've noticed that coach B likes to tease and flirt with the other girls in class. Giving them suggestive complements about their muscle tone. Especially when they do exercises using their butt muscles or if they use the chest press machine. I've seen him looking at their little titties when they jog on the treadmill. I've seen him looking up their shorts when they bend over to stretch, trying to see what kind of panties they're wearing. Bikinis, all of them wear bikinis. Some wear regular bikinis and some wear string bikinis but none of them even wear a thong, much less go without like I usually do.
I've also noticed that coach B looks at me more than the other girls. Maybe he's a breast or ass man. I don't have huge breasts, but compared to the other girls' they do seem bigger than they are. And I definitely have an ass. I think it's my best feature. It's nicely rounded, filling out the back of my shorts completely. I take advantage of my assets any time I know coach B is looking. I've stopped wearing a bra to the classroom part of class. I wear tops that are tight across my breasts and loose on the lower part to hide my belly. I only wear a sports bra for gym class cause it hurts when my breasts bounce running bleachers. I wear thong panties during class time to keep my tight jeans or shorts from chafing my pussy lips. During gym class I don't wear panties at all under the very short, loose shorts I wear for the workouts.
The other girls, even though most of them don't really need one, always wear bras. I can't help but compare my body to theirs when we're all in the locker room. I may be a little heavier than what modern society says is 'normal' but every one of them looks like they're either anorexic or bulimic. I think coach B just flirts with them because that's what he does. Flirting and teasing are a natural as breathing for him.
I haven't made any friends in this class, probably because I don't act like the other girls. I don't gossip with them about the size of my boyfriend's package or how long he can fuck without cumming. I wouldn't even if I had a boyfriend to gossip about. I also don't join their gossip about coach B. He told the class on the first day that his dad was a fan of the Incredible Hulk comics and he was named after Bruce Banner. The girls like to speculate on whether or not coach B's 'package' is as big as his name suggests.
I'll even admit to wondering that myself. I'll look every now and then during gym class to see if I can see any hint of his size but he always wears very loose, oversized workout pants. Just once I thought I saw a hint of a hard on when I caught him looking at my ass as I bent over to stretch before a workout. I know exactly what he saw because I've looked at myself in the mirror while in that position. When I straightened up from my stretch and turned to look at his crotch he knew that I had caught him staring up my shorts. He also knew that I was staring at his crotch. I thought I saw the front of his pants stick out some but he turned away before I could be sure. I glanced at his face as he turned away and was surprised to see that he'd turned slightly red.
From what I can tell about coach B, he seems to have everything going for him. He's six foot, maybe 225 pounds of mostly muscle. He has a very nicely defined chest and flat stomach. He doesn't have washboard abs which, to me, indicates that he has a life outside of working out in the gym. He has no problem taking off his shirt when we're outside running on the track. I think he likes to show off his broad shoulders and yummy chest. He's got mostly brown hair but in the sun it has a reddish hue to it, which goes with the pale skin and freckles.
Even though he'll take off his shirt outside, he always carries sunblock; usually 50 SPF or higher. It's something he likes to tease the other girls with. He'll ask them in a joking manner if they'd like to spread sunscreen on his back. One of them will usually do it for him, slapping it on and wiping her hands off quickly afterwards. He told us the first day of class that doing that was worth extra credit and each girl would get a turn. He'll choose one from the ones that offer. I haven't offered yet. I'm afraid that I'll take too much time with it, giving him closer to a massage than just spreading sunblock on his back.
Probably the most memorable of coach B's features are his eyes. He has one grey eye and one blue eye. The difference in color is not slight. It's very pronounced, one eye being a light turquoise blue and the other the color of pewter. I've heard the other girls gossiping in the locker room about what it would be like to have those eyes looking up at them as he ate their pussies. I'm always the giver in any sexual encounter. I've been eaten a few times but it was always in the 69 position; I don't take pleasure without returning it.
But I digress. I need an A to keep my scholarship. I need to schedule an appointment with coach B to discuss what I can do to earn some easy extra credit. Maybe staying after class to help him pick up all the dirty towels in the women's locker room to be washed. If that's not enough I can clean the men's locker room too and wash and put away all the towels. If that's still not enough maybe extra credit of a more personal nature will get me the A I need.
I think about it one Friday during the workout all the class members are supposed to do on their own time. I decide that I really don't want to clean locker rooms and do laundry for extra credit. I know I won't even be able to do extra workouts. I make up my mind that the extra credit I want to offer to do for coach Bruce is of the personal nature. Being the ladies' man he so obviously is, I'm sure he's had offers of a personal nature before. I wonder briefly if he's got notches on his bedpost for every girl that's needed a little extra credit.
The next day is Saturday. I don't have to be at work till later in the afternoon so I decide to Google coach B's home address using the house phone number from the syllabus. It's not difficult to find and when I have his address, I look up directions from campus to his house. I don't want to ask for extra credit in his office mostly cause he's rarely there. When he is, he's almost always talking to one or another of the guys from his men's fitness class. Almost all of them are going into the coaching profession and like to talk with coach B about his coaching history. I'm not about to just walk in during one of those chat sessions and I definitely don't want one of those guys walking in on my little 'chat' with coach B.
I take special care with my appearance Saturday morning. I'd gone to a friends beauty parlor after classes and my workout the day before for a manicure. I get up at 6:30, planning to get to coach B's house about 8:30. A little early but I don't want to risk him being gone on errands or to his office at school. Since it's midterms and almost every student in both his classes are freshmen, myself included, he has to figure grades for about thirty students.
I decide to wear the modified traditional catholic schoolgirl outfit. I put on a tight, white, buttoned down blouse that's thin enough to show the darkness of my nipples, leaving an extra button undone to show a little cleavage. Of course I'm not wearing a bra. I dig out my short, grey plaid, pleated skirt from the back of my closet and the black, patent leather Mary Jane's that went with the outfit. Thankfully, they have Velcro instead of regular buckles. To complete my ensemble, I paw through my panty drawer for a pair of green thongs and white trouser socks.
I walk out of my apartment, lock my door, and go out to my car. I'm a little proud of my car. It's a classic American muscle car, a 1983 red Corvette convertible that I've named Miss Scarlett. I'm a fan of the board game of Clue. I've still got the very first vehicle I ever picked out and bought myself, a 1972 Chevy truck that I named Colonel Mustard for his mustard yellow color, parked in a rented garage.
I get in my car, leaving the top up, and head out of the apartment complex. I've got the map quest map on the seat beside me and the beginnings of a plan. I'll knock and when he answers I'm sure his eyes will go straight to my braless breasts. They're a little too heavy to be really perky but my nipples are dark and can be easily seen through my blouse. I'll make sure I widen my eyes and act completely innocent of knowing that I have on no bra. I'm sure I won't have to talk very much. I'll tell him about my scholarship and that I have to keep a 4.0 GPA to keep it. I'll tell him that my job at the distribution center doesn't pay enough to cover my tuition and books. It only pays enough for my rent and utilities. I'd have to quit school and lose my cell phone cause I wouldn't be able to pay the school fees or phone bill. I'd have to save an entire year to have enough for just two classes.
When I ask if there's any kind of extra credit I can do to pull up my grade, I'm sure he'll understand what I'm offering. I can already see the look in those different colored eyes as he looks me up and down, seeing what I have to offer. I'm sure he'll like what he sees. I've only worn this outfit once before but I got a very strong reaction from every man that saw me. I was in a club and at least one guy took one look at me and came all in his pants.
I don't think coach B will be that fast. He'll likely have a little more stamina than the average guy my age would. Older men do have the advantage over younger ones regarding stamina. Sure the younger ones can usually get it back up faster after they cum but by then it's usually too late for me. If I don't cum the first time then I lose juice and it takes me hours to be ready again. Older men will last longer the first time, giving me a chance to cum very close to when they do. Fifteen to twenty minutes is usually long enough. The five to ten all these college boys last is just not enough.
I wonder, as I drive the few miles to coach B's house, just what he'll ask of me. I wonder if he'll ask for something simple like a back massage or if he'll ask for sex the first thing. I wonder if today will be enough to get me an A or if I'll have to come back again. If I have to come back, I wonder how many times. Coach B is 31 years old, an age where men already know what they like and have developed the confidence to get it by whatever means necessary. I'm sure he'll have no hesitation telling me exactly what I have to do to get an A.
My mind is filled with questions and my stomach is filled with butterflies when I turn onto his street. I'm looking for number 269. I had to smile when I saw his address number. I thought to myself: It takes two to 69. Oh god, there it is. His car is in the driveway. A silver mustang convertible that he's said is a 35th anniversary addition. I pull Miss Scarlett up next to it, push in the park brake, kill the motor, and just sit for a few seconds to take deep breaths to try to calm my butterflies.
I get out of my car and walk into his open garage. I don't want to be seen knocking on his front door by any of his neighbors. I look about fifteen in this outfit and people that don't know me would think I actually was fifteen. I don't want them calling the cops to accuse coach B of being a pedophile. I really am eighteen.
I mount the steps and ring the doorbell. I wait an entire minute then ring it again. After another minute there's still no answer so I knock with my left hand and try the knob with my right. It's not locked so I walk into what looks like his utility room. To my right are a washer and dryer with cabinets above them for laundry soap and such, a table beside them for folding clothes, and a rolling rack with hangers on it for clothes to be hung up. To my left, I see floor to ceiling bookshelves filled with books. Most of them are by the author Steven King, both hard cover and paperback. There are more but I don't take the time to look at all of them.
"Coach B?" I call out. No answer. I walk farther into his house. The kitchen now. For it being a bachelors kitchen, it's a lot cleaner than I expected. There are no dirty dishes in the sink and the trash can is not overflowing. I call out again but again get no answer. I walk through his living room and down the hall. I peer into the open doorways, finding a huge bathroom with a hot tub and shower stall. The next door also goes into the bathroom, making me think it used to be a separate bedroom and bathroom that had been converted into one enormous bathroom. I look into the open door on the right and see another converted bedroom, this time into an office.
There's only one door left. The last door on the right. I think this house was originally a three bedroom, one bathroom that coach B converted into a one bedroom, one big bathroom house with an office. The office is kinda small, making me think that the master bedroom has been enlarged. Since coach B hasn't been in any of the other rooms of his house, he must be in his bedroom.
The thought is exciting. If he's already in his bedroom then it will be that much easier to implement my plan. His bed will be comfortable for me to use to start out with the back massage. If he wants a little more than a back massage, we'll already be on the bed.
His bedroom door is slightly open. I knock softly as I push it the rest of the way open. I look in. I see a dresser, more bookshelves (he must read more than I do, which is saying a lot), and, as I push the door all the way open, I see his bed. He's in it. He seems to be asleep and oh my god he's naked!
I step into the room and take off my shoes as I look at him. He's stretched out on his belly with the covers kicked off. His laptop is open beside him. I'm curious about he's been looking up on it. I put my right knee on the edge of the bed and lean across him to touch the touch pad. The picture that pops up on his screen is definitely not what I expect. It's two cartoon pictures placed side by side of a guy and girl. The girl is on the left side. She's sitting on a bed, naked, with a big dildo pressed to her pussy. I look closer and see that it's a vibrator that's plugged into the wall. She also has a couple of dildos laying beside her on the bed that look like they're covered in pussy juice. She has a look on her face of ecstasy.
I look at the other side of the picture and am surprised to see that the guy looks like he don't have a dick at all. I have to lean a little closer to see that he actually does have a dick, it's just very small. He has on the top of the Spiderman uniform which makes me realize that this must be Peter Parker and Mary Jane. I see that Peter is also masturbating, using only his thumb and forefinger. He has what looks like a penis pump laying beside him on his bed. It's obvious that he's cumming which makes me assume that Mary Jane must be too.
The picture surprises me. Not the fact that it's porn, but that each of the subjects are masturbating instead of actually having sex, and that Peter has such a tiny dick. The picture seems to be more humorous porn than anything very sexual. I wonder if that's the kind of thing coach B is into.
Since he's already asleep I decide to just go ahead with my plan. I'm sure that if I just start with a back massage, I'll have no trouble convincing him to let me do whatever's necessary to get that A I need. I notice a small bottle of warming massage oil on his nightstand. I smile as I think of what he must be using that for. I take the bottle and climb up onto his bed, throwing my left leg across his thighs. I open the bottle of oil and the spicy scent of cinnamon wafts up. I pour a little into my palms, rubbing them together some to warm it. I touch my hands to those broad shoulders and start to work. I dig in with the heels of my hands, working on some tight muscles. I use my thumbs on his spine, moving them in small circles away from it. I work my way down his back, the feeling of all that bare male skin beneath my hands and between my legs making my pussy start to get wet.
I pour a little more oil into my hands, warm it some, and start working on his lower back. I start to talk to him now.