Football Playoffs - Unexpected Pleasure for Dolly and Coach
Ah, football. So all-American. And high school football can be some of the best examples of pure emotion and love of the game.
The most fun I ever had at a high school football game -- well, if you include the post-game festivities, that is -- was actually a few years after I graduated college, when my own former high school went on a historic run of four straight road victories after barely earning the last spot in the state playoffs and after those four wins found themselves in a state championship game. I was still on the track & field tour, and my personal track season had wound down for the season. I took a drive up the Florida turnpike to Orlando, checked into a lagoon view suite at the Grand Floridian at WDW (didn't expect that Dolly loved Disney, did you? I've got my softer, sentimental side, it’s not all orgasms and orgies, sheesh!) and then headed over to the old Citrus Bowl for the State Championship game.
Oh, before I tell you about how much fun I had at the football game, a word about how I felt at the end of the track seasons back when I was running those 1500's and 3,000's against those slender blonde chicks whose names all ended in "OVA" and depending upon the country, might have also had enough muscle to win an IFBB competition and fail a drug screen. Honestly, I regret virtually none of the sexual escapades I experienced, and I apologized to that insanely well manscaped Belgian with the moustache (he was bare down there many years earlier than most men, a real-trendsetter, that guy was) who I kept pulling back to the bed for more of the ticklish pleasure from his moustache against my smooth shaven girl-parts. The good feeling from his moustache and the fact that he could keep getting it up but was having trouble completing after round two allowed us to fuck on and on, and he missed his event, and as a result did not qualify for the World Championships. Don't feel too bad--the next season, during some pillow talk on a day when we hooked up only after triple checking the schedule, he told me in a charming and only barely decipherable mix of English, French and Flemish (on his mother's side), "It okay Dolly. We enjoy make many fucks with you always." His use of the plural "we" was pure lack of familiarity with the language. My threesomes were with others.
So I get to the game and found my way to the side of the field where everyone is wearing my school's colors. I was in the spirit as well and wore school colors. It looked like a hell of a lot of people had driven the same route along with me--big turnout! Go Eagles! Marching band playing the school's pep tune, and cheerleaders in moderately sexier looking outfits than I we had been allowed to wear about a decade earlier, and a few of the girls were even hot, but I reminded myself that the saddle shoes and pleated skirts we'd worn when I was cheerleader actually fed into more dirty fantasies than these sleeker outfits.
The football team had never reached the state finals when I was in high school -- the semifinal loss my junior year had been heartbreakingly close. Down four points, completed pass as the last seconds were ticking down, and tackled on the five yard line as the clock struck zero. I was so distraught that I swore off sex, and I stuck to that vow until Letterman finished his monologue that night before I consoled Jonathan Cooper, who played defensive back and also played guitar and who used those fingers to strum something far more sensitive than a B-string to help me forget my sorrows that night. And my mouth also helped him forget his sorrows.
Moving past the cheerleaders, I reflected on how much more mature I was now--no school girl uniform or cheerleader uniform. Instead, I had on my royal blue tight tee, deep scoop neck that tends to attract attention, with a blue and gold ribbon pinned to the upper left side, above the boob. My jeans weren't royal blue, but they were really tight and I love the way they make my ass look. So do many men I meet. Many of whom have ended up with the opportunity to compare how my ass looks in the jeans with how my ass looks ... well, out of the jeans.
So there I was in my fab-ass jeans in the sea of high school students too young for me to know and their parents, a bit too old for me to know, and I finally saw a familiar face -- Coach Foster! My high school track coach! And he saw me too. "Dolly! Dolly!" Win a couple state titles and set a school and county record for a coach and apparently you get a fan for life. Ray Foster was an awesome coach, had run track himself at Oregon, had a poster of Steve Prefontaine in his office, made me a faster, better, more strategic, disciplined runner, and even had a hot wife who coached volleyball and had amazing legs. "Coach!"
How much did I respect Coach? I'd never frigged one out to thoughts of him. Started to a couple times, but always shifted to someone else about as soon as I got the first tingle. Yes, Dolly has her limits. It was great to see him and I wondered how old he was now as he still looked great. Wait, I knew. I knew what year he'd graduated Oregon from looking up his career track highlights. He was exactly sixteen years older than I was. I'd known since I decided I needed to know more about the man yelling at me and making me run faster laps and do more reps in the weight room. I knew his birthday, his home town, and his wife, who when she wasn't coaching volleyball was an English teacher with a senior elective entitled, "Literature of Peace and Protest". A hippie chick, apparently. Made sense, she was from Oregon, too, they are all pretty much pot heads out there. Probably into wild, irresponsible sex. I hugged coach. I'd only ever hugged him before when I was sweaty, sucking wind after a race and there hadn't been anything inappropriate about it.
So I sat with coach, and we caught up a bit. He noticed my engagement ring and I told him about my fiancé, and he recognized the name from the sports page. I asked about whether he had any children yet, and he told me they had a three year old son.
Coach looked good, like he hadn't aged, except maybe a few more grays and fine lines that honestly just made him look yummier. I guess fucking an athletic hippie chick was keeping him young. Being Dolly, I didn't hide my admiration and visual inspection. In the small talk about school and town gossip, he caught me looking, and I caught him looking, and fixating on my D-cup girls. "Yes, Coach, had a bit of enhancement done to my girls" I whispered into his ear, and a whiff of Mennen skin bracer reminded me of post-race hugs. He still smelled the same. I touched his hand with mine when I whispered that, and slipped my fingers in his. He didn't immediately release my hand, and those few seconds of intimacy as an adult woman with Coach made me just a little more wet than I already was. By halftime, with my school hanging in there against an undefeated opponent trailing only 10-6, we were not exactly hiding the affectionate and flirty touching. Felt like being alone on a romantic date even though we were in a sea of about ten thousand people wearing blue and gold. His wife was with his son, he mentioned, but nothing more.
I mentioned that I was taking the occasion to spend a bit of extra time in Orlando, and that I was at the Grand Floridian. "I figured it’s a championship game so I went for a nice place, probably too extravagant." "Always wanted to stay there," Coach said, again eyeing my body. He said he was undecided about going back or grabbing a room, depended what time the game ended and on traffic getting out of Orlando, which can be a bear. The door was opened and uncontrollably my subconscious began developing the pathway for his seduction. Strangely, I became aware that my itch need to be scratched.
Coach asked about my travels in Europe and Asia for track meets, and I mentioned some historic sights I'd now seen with my own eyes that I'd read about in school. As the third quarter wore on, my school pulled within within three to tie and a TD to win but then the other team scored, stopped us, then drove down as if we were just a JV team and they were the varsity. 24-9, and it didn't look good on the field, but as Coach returned to the seats with a pair of bottled waters, I hoped he would stay as I was enjoying his company and the renewed fantasy that my (subconscious now conscious mind)mind was already well into. Just before the end of the quarter, a touchdown brought it to 24-16, and Coach leaned towards me putting his hand on the small of my back and spoke into my ear, "looks like we might hang with them to the end and I won't be getting that early start home. Do you think they've got a vacancy left where you're staying? I might as well treat myself right, too." My tingling increased as I noticed he kept his face in my hair while his fingers gently and seductively stroked my back. I touched his arm sliding my fingertips onto his triceps. Oh God! He has stayed in shape as I felt his muscles tighten. His intentional flirtatiously delivered comments made my carefully laid plans for his seduction suddenly simpler. "Fuck me Coach!" almost blurted from my now excitedly dried lips while becoming more aware of how moist my other lips had become. It was now loud and clear inside my head. Hidden under the roar of the crowd as they rose and cleared for a great play, I raked his skin with my nails. "School's not out, Disney's not crowded until next week, you'll be fine" I told him, allowing my lips to touch his earlobe.
We were on our feet the entire fourth quarter and the back and forth was almost exciting enough to distract me from Coach. But with his attention coming right back to me, I missed how the other team got down to the three yard line but did see their quarterback score on a keeper to make it 31-16. Then a drive with a pair of fourth down completions and my school's quarterback wobbling off the field after a big hit, only to cause a scene on the sideline and push his coach and trot back to the huddle held us speechless; this was just a game, these were high school boys, he shouldn't be out there woozy, but the team lined up and he took the snap. I grabbed coach's body, not sexually but seeking emotional protection because I was afraid for the boy's health. And that cute young hottie out-juked the blitzing defenders and broke through the line into a secondary devoid of defenders, who were all in the offensive backfield realizing they'd just been fooled -- our quarterback wasn't hurt at all, and he ran in for the touchdown. I squeezed coach and he wrapped his arms around me and squeezed back. A two-point conversion on a thread the needle pass made it a seven point game, 31-24.
Just two minutes remained and my school lined up for an on-side kick. As the ball went straight to one of the defenders, it took a funny bounce, went off his chest and skidded along back toward the goal line. And our boys fell on it first! With the crowd roaring, our boys moved through the defense and with six seconds left that same quarterback with the acting skills kept pumping his legs and through the defenders and into the end zone. Tie game. Overtime!
Everyone was hugging. I hugged some MILF's who were seated around us, some older alumni (or maybe parents) in our area, and shared a deep eye to eye smile and long, passionate hug with Coach. I dug my nails into his shoulders. I felt him squeeze me tighter, and I pressed my hips into him. Hard. Very hard. Oh God I hoped we'd win.
We got the ball first and completed a touchdown pass on first down! After the extra point, the other team got their turn. On a third down, as their running back reached the ball toward the pylon, corner of the end zone, to cross the goal line to tie the score, one of our defenders reached out and slapped the ball out of his hand, and the ball bounced into the end zone. There was a scramble. We couldn't see who got it. If they recovered, I would have to wait through a second overtime to make sure Coach wasn't going to chicken out and that I was going to get to fuck him. We watched the referees pull boys off the pile. And then two of them waved one arm up and down by his side, signaling a touchback, that we'd recovered the fumble. Game over. CHAMPIONSHIP!! We'd won!
I don't remember who moved in for the kiss that punctuated our hug first. I remember that it felt natural, and there was no hesitancy. And before I had sucked his tongue for too long, I remembered that we were in public and a scandal was likely to ensue. "Leave with me, we'll get your car tomorrow" I told him, noticing his hands on my ass, squeezing and making me even wetter.
Good thing the car I was driving had automatic transmission, it allowed me to drive with my left hand and open Coach's fly with the other, and stroke his cock, hard, circumcised, drooling pre-cum out the hole and married. This was a married man's cock, my married former coach's cock. Lust was all I felt. Coach's fingers slipping inside my bikini panties and then inside me, then twiddling my clit, then back inside me and inspiring two minor orgasms as I drove was insane, and I glowed in perspiration and the scent of sex as we left the car at the valet and I dragged him to my room. Curtains open to the lagoon, I didn't care who saw, and we threw our own clothes onto the floor and then I pushed Coach down on the love seat. How appropriate! I got on my knees in front of Coach, dragged my fingers down his abs, firm and sexy in his forties, and bobbed my head up and down his rigid stick, my tongue dancing along his most sensitive points, making his hips pop up and down. One hand on nipple, another in my hair, I knew I had him close. "Fuck Dolly, yes, God damn, oh shit, that's so good, ...oh fuck you're amazing, fucking amazing...God I never thought I've ever get to...."
Wow! He'd thought about this? I substituted my hand, squeezing, stroking, applying pressure and twisting the saliva-coated cock as I looked into Coach's eyes, saw the desire, the look of "I'm yours Dolly" that I've grown to love from my many men friends, "You've thought about this Coach?"
He lifted my from under the arms, brought my face to his, my lips smeared with pre-cum, and he kissed me, deeply, lovingly, licking the pre-cum from my lips and chin, then telling me, "Don't you think it’s about time you called me Ray?" Then he kissed me again until I pushed him back and returned my mouth to his married cock. "Maybe after you fuck me, Coach, After we're lovers, then maybe you can be Ray. But I want this," and I looked down at his cock, ran my tongue up and down the shaft and then played with the head with my lips in a tight "O", "inside me, doing me, I want you to make me your girl Coach."
A few more licks and I stood and pulled coach toward the bed, and pulled a three-pack of foil wrapped condoms from my Dolly bag. "Can I put one on your?" Big Doe eyes at my coach, his body magnificent, his wedding ring reminding me how naughty this was, my engagement ring in my Dolly bag also reminding me how naughty this was, and all I head was "God yes."
I started on all fours, fully on the bed but coach standing on the floor behind me, holding my waist, shoving his cock into me, slowly at first, but up to full speed in just a few pumps. I arched my back and rose up from the waist, took one of Coach's hands in mine and slid it up from my waist to my breast. "Squeeze my nipple Coach, fuck me hard just like you're doing, I love when you grab my tits, too." This was beyond a dream cum true for me, and soon enough Coach did the same thing with the other hand. I reached back behind me, hands to the side of his hips reaching for his ass to pull Coach into me.
Coach released my tits and grabbed my wrists, pulled them back to total control of me and he nudged me forward on the bed, then got up on the bed with me, still fucking me doggy style, and then he placed both wrists into one of his hands, and reached around my waist, touched my skin, my abs, reached down and flicked my clit sending me over the top into a thrashing orgasm. Our bodies were wet with perspiration and sex, and coach pressed his weight against my back and had me on my belly, flush onto the sheets, and he was inside me, lazy dog style fucking me. I pushed back with my hips as best as I could. "God I've wanted this, you're sexier than I ever imagined, And I imagined this a lot." I came again as his fingers and his cock were having one of the great target practice sessions I've ever had with a first time lover. You'd think he had a map.
Coach rolled over onto his back, pulling me with him, still locked at the loins, and after some backward RCG thrusts, I proved that I could be a spinner and rotated while keeping his cock in me. Now I took his hands, pressed them to the sheets above his head, and used my powerful, toned legs to spread his open and I fucked down on him, slowly hunching farther and farther forward while I grunted in mounting pleasure and eventually our mouths met and we kissed as I came, and when my body went into post orgasmic limpness, Coach rolled me again, this time onto my back, and he pumped his wonderful married cock into my hungry engaged pussy hard, deep, and it wasn't long until I saw in his eyes that he'd reached the promised land to which I deliver so many men. "Oh God, Dolly, oh fuck...." as he came, stiffening between my legs, our bodies straining as if trying to get the last dab of toothpaste from the tube. I wanted to empty him. I'd cum four times in total in that bed with him.
He started to pull out, but I grabbed him, "No, stay inside me, I want to keep feeling you, I want you to feel my aftershocks.' And then my pussy convulsions kept caressing his cock until it finally slipped out, a generous glop of cum inside the condom. I grabbed Coach's head and kissed him, aggressively, sucking his tongue, playfully biting his bottom lip. "Stay, Fuck me the rest of the night. I've got a late check out."
Maybe sometime I'll have enough time to let you all know about Coach's wife. The sexy hippie chick. I mean, RAY's wife, the sexy hippie chick. After that night, Ray and I were lovers for sure.
Purely fictional fantasy for your reading pleasure!