Chapter 13
brUCE
Idon’t have time for this, but I don’t have time to not do it, either. I need to leave for practice in exactly thirteen minutes, but if I go without relieving some of this pressure, my cock is going to explode as soon as Allyson walks up.
Once again, I’m stuck in that strange combination of pissed off and turned on that seems to be my new normal where she’s concerned.
I shuck my jeans, dirty from the day’s work in the field, and swipe a fresh towel out of the linen closet before hitting the shower. The hot water runs over my body, but instead of the quick efficiency of my usual five-minute wash and rinse, I grab the soap to get to work.
I try to fight the images of her, bringing up material from my own personal mental spank bank. But her face keeps super-imposing with a little sassy smirk that says she knows what I really want.
“Fuck it,” I say to the tile wall, knowing I need to just get this shit over with.
My hand morphs into hers as I imagine her kneeling in front of me.
“Fuck my mouth, Bruce,” Allyson says.
With a groan, I close my eyes and tighten my fist, imagining slipping into her wet mouth.
I hold her head, fingers woven into her blonde hair, and thrust deep. She chokes for a split second, but then her throat opens, letting me in. Her blue eyes look up at me, glossy as she eye-fucks me, begging for more.
She slurps messily, cheeks hollowed as she moans against my cock. I fuck her mouth just like she demanded, hard and fast. Her fingers slide down my thighs, nails raking the muscled skin, making my cock even harder.
Her knees spread, and she slips her palm over her clit, down to her pussy. She gathers her own juices, holding her hand up to show me how wet she is from sucking me down. “Play with that pussy, baby. Touch yourself and come for me.”
She nods, the pressure causing me to pull her hair, but she doesn’t seem to mind in the least. In fact, it seems to rile her up even more. She swallows my cock, her fingers a blur against her clit where I’m watching. If I lean just right, I can see both at the same time, and that’s sexy as hell.
“Take me, take all of me, Al. I’m gonna come down your pretty little throat. You want that?” I growl.
She whimpers hungrily.
And that does it. She comes, bucking against her fingers, and my balls pull up tight as I blow, jets of cum filling her mouth.
I hold her against me, nose buried to my skin as I make little thrusts into her throat that drive us both mad.
I stream cum down her throat as she gulps me down, but it’s too much and some runs down her chin, where she scoops it up with one of her honey-coated fingers, sucking it clean of both of our juices.
“Fuck,” I sigh, returning to the shower from my fantasy. A shudder works its way through my body, muscles tensing and relaxing in order from my shoulders to my calves. “What the fuck was that?”
I haven’t come that hard in forever. I know that it’s because I was fantasizing about Allyson, something I haven’t let myself do in years.
It feels important that I wasn’t picturing my high-school-era girlfriend, a blast from the past, so to speak, but rather, the Allyson I see now.
I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, which knots my stomach up.
Quick as I can, I soap up the rest of me and then rinse my body and the shower wall, where my cum runs down the tile like an accusation.
Yeah, I’m an asshole, a filthy, crude motherfucker who probably never deserved a nice girl like her, but at least now, I’ll be able to handle being around Allyson at practice without needing to fuck her right there on the grass.
Kids are so fucking resilient. They take the news about Mike’s schedule change in stride, mostly just giving Allyson curious looks when I explain that she’s the new Head Coach.
Johnathan raises his hand. “But you’re still our real coach, right?” He blushes a bit as he says it, eyes darting to Al like he doesn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he’s asking what all the other boys want to know too.
“Yep, you’re stuck with me. You just get her too.” I point at Allyson with a thumb. “So, let’s get to work.”
After my little session in the shower, I dressed in workout gear on purpose. I have no intention of standing around for ten minutes with Al while the boys run their warm-up laps. Nope. Today, I planned to run with them.
When Allyson arrived in athletic gear too, tiny little shorts that show off the creamy skin of her thighs and round ass plus a tank top that hugs her full tits before brushing down her belly, a new idea planted itself into my mind.
“All right, line up for warm-up.” The boys hustle to the imaginary line in the grass. “You too, Coach.”
Al’s eyes jump to me in surprise. “Me? I wasn’t planning on running. Mike never did.”
I whisper but keep my voice loud enough that the boys can hear me. I want the facade of being nice even as I throw her to the wolves of pre-pubescent kids, letting peer pressure work for me. “Gotta prove yourself, Coach. Mike and I ran with the boys the first few practices. It’s good for teamwork.”
She must see the glint of a dare in my eyes because I can see her baby blues go steely. She straightens her back and lines up. “Okay, so what’s the deal? Fastest wins?”
She smirks, and I know she’s well aware that’s not how this goes.
She’s giving the boys a chance to ‘teach’ her too.
Good methodology, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
She’s got Cooper, after all, and is probably a pro at working the system in her favor because a parent’s gotta have a lot of tools in their bag of tricks.
“No!” the boys cry out in unison. “No man left behind!”
But Cooper interrupts their chanting. “Uh, guys? My mom’s not a man. So maybe we should go with ‘No Wildcat left behind’ instead?”
Pairs of eyes jerk to me for approval. “Sounds good to me. Good for you, Coach?”
Allyson nods with a smile. “No Wildcat left behind, it is. On three . . .” She counts us down and we’re off.
The boys are so much better at this now. They instinctively stay together, but they’re watching Allyson and me, adjusting as they need to so we all stay together. I push the pace a bit, wanting them to progress, and then pull back as Allyson starts panting.
“Don’t forget to breathe,” I tell everyone, though I’m really just talking to Al. She darts a dirty look my way, but her breathing stabilizes.
A few minutes later, we cross the finish line and she high-fives every boy. “Great job,” she tells them, and they tell her the same thing, a degree of respect earned in their eyes.
I clap my hands, getting everyone’s attention. “We’re going to start with tackling again today. On the dummies!”
The boys’ excitement is palpable. Every kid loves tackle day. It feels so raw and balls to the wall to run at something with the express intent of destroying it.
But first, we review the angles of a hit, where their knees and shoulders should be, how to hold their head, and driving through with form.
It almost sounds more like a geometry lesson, but it’s important so the boys are safe with each and every tackle.
Even one bad hit can be catastrophic, so it’s all about muscle memory.
Allyson and I work with the boys, sometimes giving correction and sometimes doing the drill right along with them.
After a few minutes, I grab a big foam pad. “Okay, now let’s take it up a notch. Same drill, same form, but you’re going faster . . . and you gotta hit me.”
A chorus of oohs goes through the boys and I chuckle.
“Don’t get too excited. Ain’t none of you pipsqueaks gonna take me down. But that’s the point. You hit with all you’ve got, even when the target’s bigger and badder than you and you have no shot. You still give it your all.”
Allyson’s been standing off to the side while I gave my rah-rah speech, but I have what’s probably the worst-slash-best idea ever. “Al, tackle me,” I order.
She startles. “What?”
“Tackle me. Show them how it’s done,” I repeat.
She laughs nervously. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She’s looking at the boys like they’re going to agree with her, but they’re on my side. “Get him, Coach. Take him down!”
The power of positive peer pressure is on my side once again as she nods slowly, agreeing. She lines up and I coach her through it.
“Step one, most important . . . wait until I say go. You don’t want to hurt me or hurt yourself because you’re rushing.
” I drop into position myself, holding the thick pad up and setting my feet apart for stability.
I don’t think Al’s really going to come at me with all she has, but the boys will so this is a good practice round for me too.
“Head up, shoulders down,” I say, and Allyson obliges. “Feet buzzing.” She shuffles her feet, dancing on her toes. “Shoot ’n rip,” I say and clench my teeth, preparing for the hit.
Allyson runs dead at me, fiery challenge in her eyes. She thinks she’s taking me down, I think in the half-second before she gets to me.
The slam is nothing to me, a mosquito on a horse’s flank, more annoyance than anything else. But I push back, holding my position as she drives into the padded dummy between us.
Suddenly, my foot slips on the grass beneath me and she has me teetering. Her momentum and my loss of balance send us careening backward and she tackles me to the grass. My breath whooshes out and Allyson yells in surprise, “Whoo!”
Time utterly freezes. With her on top of me, our bare legs tangled, and our faces so close together, I can see the freckles I used to count with kisses over the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks.
There used to be twenty-two, but this close, I can see there are definitely more from the years of sun upon her face.
Our eyes lock in shock, her mouth opening like she’s trying to say something.
An apology, maybe? An insult, more likely.
“You okay?” I ask even though I’m the one sprawled out on the grass. I can smell her, a sweet blend of perfume and sweat, and then she wiggles, trying to get up.
“Oh, my God! I’m sorry! I don’t know what happened,” she rambles. It’s cute how freaked out she is, but the squirming is not doing me any favors when she’s this close and smells like sweat and flowers, which reminds me of sex with her.
“It’s fine. Let me help you up,” I grumble.
“Oh, I’ve got it,” she argues.
“Al, quit wiggling or this is gonna be a different kinda show,” I say under my breath.
She gasps and finds the adrenaline to pop to her feet, leaving me on the ground with just the big pad to cover my hard on.
“Shit.” I keep my voice down because of the boys, but the curse comes out unbidden at her reaction. It’s only natural, not like it’s my fault my cock stood right up at attention when she was writhing around all over me with her sexy body.
I roll to my side, coming up into a squat to give my cock some breathing room as I hide behind the dummy. “You good, Coach?”
Allyson’s nod is a bit too fast, but I return my attention to the boys, who are watching slack jawed.
“And this is why you give it your all every single time. Would you have thought Coach had a chance in hell at taking me down?” They all shake their heads, and I agree with them. “Me neither. But she came in full-throttle, and I wasn’t as ready as I thought.”
Why does this sound like a bigger metaphor than the tackle she just got on me?
“My foot slipped, but that’s an excuse. Truth is, she took me down, fair and square.
And if we’d been playing a game, it’d be a fair tackle.
So even when you think you’ve got zero chance, you’ve still got a shot.
Remember that next time you have to line up against someone bigger than you.
Remember tiny Coach” —I hold my finger and thumb up, an inch apart— “taking out ‘Brutal’ Tannen.” I hold my arms out wide, making myself as big as possible in comparison.
Little do they know, their coach did more than take me out. Once upon a time, she utterly destroyed me. But that wasn’t on the football field, so I try to keep my mind where it belongs.
“All right, who’s up first?”
With Allyson’s unexpected success, all the boys are chomping at the bit to get a shot at me.
None of them are successful, but they have a damn good time trying.
They find success in counting the number of steps back they can push me, and I fight harder to hold my line, making them work for each and every inch.
They’re gonna be a great team come game time.
Too quickly, our first practice with the new coaching lineup is over. It went better than I expected, honestly. I was afraid we’d resort to snarky biting remarks or thinly-veiled insults. The not-quite grind was definitely preferable, though embarrassing.
We gather up, rallying around for our cheer.
Allyson’s hand lays on mine and all I can think of is taking her soft palm in my rough, callused one.
But then the rest of the team’s sweaty hands pile in and we count down.
“Three, two, one . . . GO WILDCATS!” The dogpile of hands dissipates instantly, but I feel Allyson’s hand leave mine in slow motion.
The kids all make a run for the parking lot, parents trailing behind.
“You got the boys tonight or is Michelle coming?” I ask without playing the words in my head. I realize a heartbeat too late that they sound rather damning. “I mean, I figured we should talk through some of the team stuff.”
Her face relaxes slightly, though she still looks wary of me. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’m taking the boys home, but they can hang for a few.” She looks over to Cooper and Liam, giving them permission to play. “Just stay close so you can hear me when it’s time to go.”
They run off toward the duck pond, their laughter echoing back to us in the wind.