A Teacher's Sin Uncovered Ch. 03

Her lips moved up and across my cheek, towards my lips. I was ready, suddenly rigid with anticipation. I considered pulling her mouth to mine, but so far she'd read me perfectly. She was in control. I'd do nothing to derail her.

Coach turned her body towards me, her face hovered before mine. Our breath mingled; our lips drew closer. Her scent was light. She paused. I reached up, caressed her cheek, said, "You're beautiful," meant it.

Coach's eyes lit up. She took my face between her hands, her thumbs stroked my cheeks. "It probably doesn't speak all that well of me, but I like being a woman's first."

I smiled; I don't know why. Coach's directness, her honesty about sex, was refreshing. Staring into my eyes, she took my hand in hers and pressed it to her lips, kissed my fingers, took the tip of my index finger into her mouth, rolled her tongue against it. No longer able to resist, I pulled her mouth to mine.

I expected Coach to maul my face, to take possession of my mouth like a frenzied teenager. Instead her kiss stretched my imagination. Her lips and tongue danced with mine, somehow both gentle and intense, pushing everything from my mind except the woman in my arms. At some point, I'm not sure when, we began kissing passionately, kissing lovingly, kissing desperately. I gripped Coach's thigh. She shuffled forward, straddled my legs, pushed her small powerful body against me.

She pressed her knee to my sex. I cried out. She rocked it on my pussy. It was unlike anything I'd ever known. Arching my hips and back, I pushed against her knee. Coach's hands became more aggressive, roamed up my back and arms, set my skin afire.

Then, to my dismay, Coach stood. I lunged for her, but she was too quick. She gave me a coy smile and pulled off her shirt and shorts, bra and panties. Her body was tight and muscular, her breasts small. There was a small tattoo on her side. She reached out her hand. I grabbed it and, effortlessly, she hauled me to my feet. We started for her bedroom.

My mind was clouded with desire, but I recalled Andrew's instructions. Part of me wanted to ignore them, but I shuddered at the consequences of disobedience.

When we reached her bedroom door. I stopped, turned towards her. "Coach, I'm not sure about this. I keep thinking about Bruce."

She stopped, looked at me, evaluating my statement. I continued, trying to justify myself.

"Coach, I mean, its just that, well Bruce and I have been together for years. I'm not sure I should do this."

She tilted her head to the side and said, more in determination than anger, "Bullshit girl, you're on fire, you want this. You're a cunt-teaser. I don't like cunt-teasers."

I started to move away, but she pressed her hand to my chest, pinning me to the wall. Fear rocketed through me.

"It's just that...."

Before I finished the sentence Coach stepped towards me, placed her hand on my back, and without apparent effort tossed me over her hip onto the bed. Grabbing several pieces of nylon cord from atop her dresser she sprang forward on top of me. I struggled, futilely, while she looped a length of cord around my wrist and tied my arm to the bed frame. Sitting on my chest, she did the same to my other arm. Then, launching herself from her knees, she spun 180 degrees in the air, landing on my stomach and knocking the wind out of me. Taking hold of my shorts, she rolled to the foot of the bed, dragging my shorts to my ankles. I pulled hard on the ties, trying to free my arms. She grabbed a leg, yanked it, straightened it out, looped the cord over my ankle, and secured my foot to the bed. I kicked at her with my other leg, but she bobbed to the left, lassoed it, and, pulling hard enough to stun me, tied it down. I was roped and spread-eagled, helpless.

I was also winded, breathing heavily. Coach, on the other hand, showed no signs of exertion. I would not panic. In an even tone I said, "Charlotte, are you out of your mind? Let me up."

Calmly, methodically, Coach opened a dresser drawer, pulled out some scissors, sat on the bed, and cut my tee-shirt off.

"Helga, I do not know what kind of game you're playing, but you're fucking with the wrong person. You ditch the boyfriend, come on to me, get me all hot and bothered, get yourself hot and bothered, then try to back out."

She cut off my panties.

"Naked pubes! You nasty little thing."

She cut off my bra, licked the tip of a finger, ran it across my breast. It exploded with goose bumps; the nipple hardened.

"My theory," she continued, "is you've heard how I tie girls up, have my way with them, and wanted the same treatment." An eyebrow arched. "Am I wrong?"

"If you don't untie me now I'll start screaming."

She stood, opened a drawer, pulled out some bundled silk stockings.

"If you do no one will hear you, but on general principle I'll fill your mouth with these. But you won't. Bruce and your little world could never stand the scandal."

She was right. I yanked on the straps securing my arms.

She sat back down, licked a finger, dragged it across my other breast. It blushed; my nipple jumped to attention.

Then, nonchalantly, as if there was nothing unusual about our situation, she perched herself between my legs, ran her tongue over her thin lips, smiled, and leaned forward. Her cheeks brushed against my inner thighs and she lashed her tongue across my pussy lips. She did it again, took hold of my breasts, winked, and said, "Honey, you ain't fooling nobody."

Sitting on her knees, looking down at me, she squeezed and kneaded my breasts, fingered my nipples. Her hands were strong, her touch wise, and electric shocks spread through my body. She winked and dropped her head to my sex. Her hand were still working my breasts. Staring into my eyes she forcefully licked my vulva, gradually moved up to my clitoris, leaving a trail of spittle behind. She never took her eyes off mine. I wanted to match her stare, but couldn't. Instead I closed my eyes, dropped my head to the pillow, imagined I was somewhere else, not strapped to a bed in a colleague's loft.

Coach was patient and meticulous, exploring my entire sex, sometimes licking, sometimes kissing, sometimes sucking, sometimes nibbling. It went on and on. She was a woman who loved eating pussy, who could spend hours with her face buried between a friend's legs, delivering hours of relentless delight to whomever shared her bed.

Why was I thinking this? I wasn't sharing her bed, I was tied to her fucking bed. I yanked on the ropes, then tried to concentrate on the humiliation, on the way I'd been restrained against my will, on Bruce, but Coach wouldn't stop and subject to the relentless assault of her talented mouth I'd relax, focus on the lips and tongue making expert love to my sex. My pussy lip swelled.

Coach understood what was happening to me. "Pretend all you want, you love this."

She french kissed my vagina; its growing secretions confirmed Coach's statement. She wiggled her tongue inside me, spread my pussy lips with her hands, took a deep whiff, then whipped her tongue over the pink folds of my inner vagina.

I tried to dredge up anger, build a mental defense to what was happening. Coach had ignored my request that she stop, had attacked me, manhandled me, tied me up, taken possession of me. But she'd called me a cunt-teaser and she was right, that's exactly what I'd been. I'd been turned on, been willing, I'd said no because Andy had told me to. He sent me to her apartment with the express instruction to tease, then refuse her. Andy knew this would happen, that Coach would tie me up and eat my pussy like no one had before. On each stop on our journey Andy had foreseen what would happened; he knew how I'd react to what Coach was doing. The pleasure erupting between my legs was part of his plan.

I moaned.

Coach pushed her face deeper into the slit between my legs, kissing and licking and nibbling cunt-flesh. She moved back to my clit, flicked her tongue over the tiny bud, clamped her lips around it, sucked it into her mouth, rolled it between her lips, lathered it with saliva. She soaked it in her spit, then sucked the spit away. She lashed it with her tongue and nibbled it with her teeth. She blew on it, sucked on it, worshiped it.

She was so unlike Bruce. Coach loved eating pussy, loved using her mouth to pleasure a woman, loved the taste and smell of cunt. Her unalloyed enjoyment was exciting, intoxicating. To her I was a sexual being who would eventually surrender to any joy her body could bring her.

I pulled on the ropes binding me to the bed. I was helpless, resistance was futile. Why fight it? It was pointless to fight. My sex was bubbling. Coach, her talented mouth, her obvious delight in my pussy, her strength and determination, were breaking down my will. It would feel so good to give in, to surrender, to let her take over. I pulled on the ties one last time, confirmed my helplessness, then moaned and squirmed, acknowledging my capitulation.

I raised my head, looked between my tits. Coach, gazing into my eyes, dragged her lower lip back and forth on my throbbing clit. She moved back down, pushed her tongue inside me, slurping up the flow of pussy cream that affirmed her victory over me. She opened her mouth wide, guzzled on my wet cunt.

I was a waterfall of lust; juice poured from me, washed over her face, flowed into her open mouth. Coach sucked it all down. Her hands went under my ass, lifted it; she dragged my bare pussy across her face. I thought how smooth her skin was. It was nice, Bruce would have stubble by this time of day.

She stopped. I looked at her; my juice covered her face.

"You dirty little whore. If I'd known how easy you are, I'd have seduced you a long time ago."

She plunged her face back in the marshy trough that was my pussy, fucking her seemingly inexhaustible tongue ever deeper in my cunt, feasting on sweet pussy cream. I was edging towards an orgasm; Coach slipped two fingers into me, effortlessly honed in on my g-spot, sucked my clitoris into her mouth, rolled it between her lips, battered it with her active tongue. I yanked on the ropes, loving the feeling of helplessness. I whipped my head back and forth, baying like a bitch in heat.

"Unnhhh, uuunnnnnhhhhhh, uuuuuunnnnnhhhhhhhhhh...."

She stopped. I jerked up my head. Her face was framed by my tits; my nipples and areolas hard, swollen, dark in color. Pussy juice covered her cheeks and lips. Why had she stopped? Was she punishing me? Should I beg? I was about to when she smiled, satisfied by the desperate look on my face, winked, and dropped her head to my pussy. Two strong fingers went back inside, palpitated by g-spot; her pinkie fingered my anus. She sucked my clit into her mouth, freed it from its hood, attacked it with her tongue. She made war on it, a relentless bombardment, coming from every angle, at every speed.

I strained at the ropes; the restraints had become intoxicating. Something about being helpless, at someone's mercy, deprived of choice. Now I could be myself. I pulled hard against them, felt them tighten; my pussy spasmed.

My body was an extension of my clit. My muscles spasmed; my pulse raced; my blood pressure spiked; my skin flushed; I gulped in air.

And then it all blew apart. My vagina contracted, strong and fast, trapping Coach's fingers inside me My uterus followed, irregular contractions starting at the top, working their way down. My sphincter repeatedly closed on Coach's pinkie, which she'd pushed inside me. Muscular tension flooded me, starting in my pelvis, going everywhere, neck, arms, hands, legs, feet. My pulse rate spiked; an orgasm ripped through me; the sudden powerful release of muscular and nervous tension blinded me to everything but my own body. Intense physical pleasure flooded through me; cream poured from my cunt.

I howled, I whimpered and whined, I cooed, whispered, gasped. Coach decreased the intensity of her attack, guiding me through a second, a third, then I lost track. The orgasms, which had started out mind-bending and powerful, ended gentle and flowing. I was panting, relaxed, at peace with the universe.

Coach got up on her knees, observed my spent body. My pulse, then my breathing, drifted back to normal. My pussy lips shrunk; my nipples softened.

I opened my eyes, looked at her. Her short powerful body was intoxicating and no one had ever eaten my pussy so well, no one had ever made me come like this. I started to say something, but Coach put her finger to her lips, instructing me to be quiet, then walked forward on her knees and lowered her very hairy pussy to my face.

I'd never given cunninlingus, but I knew better than to say no to Coach. I started out slow, avoiding the clitoris – I figured Coach would let me know when she was ready for that – and explored the nooks and crannies of her sex with my tongue. She moaned. I must have been doing something right.

She rocked forward, offered me her butt. I licked her anus, tried to force my tongue inside, but she was too tight. She moved her ass back and forth and I licked up and down the crevice. She returned the brown anal bud to my mouth. I licked it hard, but couldn't get my tongue inside. Wanting to spread her ass cheeks I pulled on the restraints, but couldn't reach her. I considered asking her to untie me, but she'd shushed me, instructed me to be quiet. Obedience seemed advised.

Coach, however, understood. She reached down and spread her ass cheeks. I licked her butt-hole and, after several tries, pushed my tongue inside. Coach groaned; it felt good to please her. Her anus was tight, her musculature well-developed, and soon my tongue was numb and my jaw ached, but Coach had given me a blindingly powerful orgasm, had shown me the joy a woman's mouth could bring. She was masterful and strong. She was the boss; she was in control; I owed her; I licked away.

She lifted herself up, pivoted back; her pussy dangled inches from my mouth. It was the perfect pussy. Why would she deny me her perfect pussy? I lunged for it, my tongue swinging in a wide arc, but she moved to the side.

"So Helga, you like my cunt?"

"Coach, it's beautiful."

She lowered her sex to my face. I explored every nook and cranny, licking, nurturing, worshiping. She centered her vagina on my face; I licked the lips, felt them swell, pushed my tongue inside, wished I could go deeper. Her juice covered my face, flowed down my cheeks, seeped into my nose.

She took hold of the bed frame and leaned forward, pressing her clit to my lips. I started slow, waiting to give her the same mind-bending pleasure she'd given me. I teased her clit with the tip of my tongue, licked it with the flat of my tongue, rolled it between my lips, sucked it into my mouth, swatted it back and forth.

Coach's movements became stronger, her groans more guttural and intense. I tracked her responses, determined what she liked best, delivered more of it. Her sounds took on a regular staccato pattern; I attacked her clit with sharp hard licks. She bucked and hunched on my face.

"That's it honey, eat my cunt, eat me."

She was jabbing her hips into my face. It hurt, but I deserved it. I'd been a cunt-teaser. I'd make up for it, show Coach I was a good little girl, an avid pussy-pleaser. I pressed my face to her sex, licked and sucked her clit. My tongue ached, my jaw hurt, but I wouldn't stop until Coach came and bathed me in her juice.

And that's what I did, and what she did. With a powerful grunt she pushed down, driving my head into the bed, then issued a long sweet sound, something between a groan and a wail, and flooded my face with a cascade of juice. I opened my mouth, let it wash over my tongue, drank it down. She covered her face with her hands, arched her back, babbled her joy, "Son-of-a-bitch, so good, so good, so fucking good," before sinking onto the bed. Eyes closed, breathing hard, she was inert. I was soaked in sticky pussy cream; in was in my hair, on my face. I looked at her, basking in the serene joy written on her face.

Finally she opened her eyes, rolled to her side, propped her head on an elbow, and played with my nipples, stroked them, pushed them into my breast, let go, watched them pop back up.

"Son-of-a-bitch, that was wonderful. Where'd you learn to eat pussy like that you hussy?"

"Don't know, it was my first time."

"Oh my, girl you're a natural. You did it just right and made me feel sooooo good. And I do so love breaking in a rookie."

Coach leaned in to kiss me; my open mouth joyfully met hers.

"Ready to be untied?"

"Yes ma'am."

We made love deep into the night.

* * * *

I woke; Coach was caressing my breast, sitting on the bed, dressed for the gym. I was groggy; it felt like I'd barely slept.

She handed me a cup of green tea. "Good morning."

"What time is it?"

"Six A.M. Sorry to wake you so early, but high school association rules forbid practices within 72 hours of a play-off game. Our first game is set three days from today, at noon. I'm getting the girls in for an early practice."

I sat up, the sheet fell to my waist, my breasts were exposed. I noticed I was not embarrassed.

I turned my back and leaned against her. She ran her fingers through my thick black hair, played with the ends.

"Any time you want to get back together, let me know. And by the way, half the girls on the team have a thing for you. We could get a group together without much notice."

"I don't know, this is all so new."

* * * *

On the way home I thought about Andy. Would he offer me to the team? The idea had appeal, but no, he'd said it would end this weekend. Then I thought about Bruce. His mouth did not equal Coach's, he did not understand my body like she did, but he was a sweet man. I loved him.