The Warped & Wicked Gym Coach Ch. 04

A flatbed truck pulled up slowly to the curb at 7204 East Lansing Drive in front of a well-manicured lawn, the passenger-side door directly in front of the home's walkway. By nine-thirty it was already pitch-black night, a darkness illuminated only by strands of Christmas lights forming the shapes of houses along the street. Jacob put the truck in park, and turned to his right. "Well, good night," he smiled.

Holly smiled back, eyes dancing, braces shining in the dark. "G'night, Jake," she said, but she didn't move. He started to smile more.

"This has been, like, a really great year, like, getting to know you more," he got out. He looked her up and down; she wore an orange wool sweater that almost managed to hide her large breasts and tight-fitting jeans that showed off her muscular thighs.

She nodded. "You were so great tonight. I swear you're the best player on the team this year." He gently laughed. "I mean it! You're amazing. And I love . . . leaving the games with you."

"I . . . do, too," he replied. They were smiling idiotically at each other. Her eyes darted from his left eye to his right eye and back again. Jake went to speak, inhaled instead, and then leaned forward. He kissed Holly on the mouth; she kissed him back. He opened his lips, and kissed again, and again; she reached up and placed her hand on his neck. He unbuckled his seatbelt, making her giggle, and they began to kiss some more, embracing as best they could over the truck's center console. He softly kissed her lips, and then pulled back slightly to look at her face. She seemed brighter, shinier, and her eyes were drunk with feeling. He felt a holy glow in his chest. It was the warmest, happiest feeling he ever remembered having.

She laughed happily. "That was my first real kiss," she admittedly shyly.

The glow dimmed; he smiled to mask his wince. "Mine, too," he lied.

***

After the Bridgeport Tech routing, Jake had garnered significant attention, not only on campus but in a lot of the Harrison County newspapers. By the time he returned to class on Monday morning, everyone was congratulating him, shaking his hand, or batting their eyelashes at him. There was a circle of students around him on the gym floor as Ms. Bandy entered the hall.

"Who are y'all talking to over there, John Stockton? Let me through, I want his autograph!" she joked as she began pushing kids out of her way. She gave Jake a big hug, swaying him back and forth. "Oh my gosh, dude, that was killer!" He closed his eyes.

She held him at arm's distance and smiled, giving him a quick wink. "And I bet there's more where that came from." Ms. Bandy then shook his hand; he felt a piece of paper in it, which he palmed and immediately put in his pocket. He assumed this wasn't something for public display.

She spun around. "Oh, and Wilson! Where's Wilson at?" As she ran over to give Will a hug, Jake walked away from the crowd, hiding himself behind the side of the bleachers, and he took the paper out. It read: "Hang back."

Class ended. The other students filed out of the gymnasium, and Jake ran to the bathroom. After hiding in a stall for a brief interval, he returned to the hardwood floor, where Ms. Bandy was waiting.

"Worked like a charm, didn't it?" she said, hands on her hips, smiling.

He smiled too. "Yeah, it did."

"Jake — and I mean this," she began as she moved toward him, "I want nothing more than to see you play like that every single game. I wanna see all the other students cheer your name, to see the girls crowd around you to get a piece of whatever it is you've got. I want you to perform like a machine, and to reap the rewards that come from athletic excellence. The right school, the best girl, the money, the friends, the life. It's all there, waiting for you to take it. Is that what you want?"

He nodded earnestly.

"From here on, I'm gonna be your private coach. Before each of your next thirty games until the playoffs, I want you to eat, sleep, and dream about nothing else but basketball, and I'll take care of the rest. No outside distractions. Quit your volunteer work; take a break from church stuff. No attachments of any kind." He nodded.

"And when I call for you, you come running. When I ask you for a favor, you do it when you can. When I give you an order, you do it when I say. And — most importantly — you tell no one of this. This is between you, me, and God. This is serious stuff, Jacob, are you following me?"

Again, he nodded. "Yeah, yes, I am."

She smiled. "I knew you were gonna be my star this year. We're gonna go all the way to the top."

She grabbed his upper arms, glaring at him. He flinched.

"First, we're going to make sure you're free of all negativity, every game. That means that you need to visit my break room, every gameday. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Ms. Bandy," he agreed.

She placed her finger on his chest. "Thursday at four. Got it?"

"Thursday at four," he repeated.

Three days passed. Each day before the next game was filled with a wider range of emotions than he had ever remember having. Holly Morgan was asking him for more and more rides to places, as were other girls in his school, less to his liking; his grades continued to maintain, despite his lack of focus on the material. Jake's coach was pleased, but he ran them all harder now than he ever had before; Jake's parents lauded him at every meal, discussing the colleges that were contacting them, but warned him against pride and falling and all that rot.

At night, in bed, waiting for sleep to come, his mind vacillated between hopelessness and lust, guilt and rapture. During class, Ms. Bandy would scarcely acknowledge his presence; then, at unexpected moments, he would catch her admiring him with an alarming sensuality. In his bed, in the moments before sleep, he imagined he would take her as she stared at him and manhandle her, smother her, penetrate her. But during Thursday's class, all he could do was look away, and wait until two hours before the game.

***

Holly lifted the center console up and slid closer to Jake. He put his arms around her, her firm breasts flattening against him. He shut his eyes, and they kissed again, but he felt distracted. Her kisses were nervous and inexperienced, but loving and sweet. They tasted . . . different. In the darkness of his mind appeared the face of Ms. Bandy. He shut his eyes harder to rid himself of the image and bit lightly at Holly's lower lip.

***

Jake walked along the old brick sidewalk to the building where Ms. Bandy's break room was. He was shaking more now than he had been the first time. He looked up as he strolled and watched the yellow leaves as they slowly fell from the large hickory trees that line the walkway. Entering the brown building, it felt colder inside than it did outside.

The door to the room opened soon after he knocked, and he felt a wave of heat. "Hey Jake," he heard Ms. Bandy say, though he could not yet see her. Jake entered the room; Ms. Bandy stood behind the door, wearing a black silk robe that ended at her upper thighs and black flip-flops.

"Hey."

"Get I get you something? I'm drinking tea," she asked. She turned, swiveling her hips, as she made her way over to the table next to her massage bed. As she bent low he could see the very bottoms of her rear end as her robe lifted.

"No, I'm good," he replied.

"You should get comfortable," she said, without turning around. She picked up her mug, tea bag still inside, and took a sip.

"Yeah," he responded. He stepped on the backs of his shoes, removing them first, then his socks while he stood. He took off his varsity jacket, then his long-sleeved shirt, leaving his undershirt on. He undid his belt buckle, then pulled it through, and placed it on his shoes. Ms. Bandy put her mug down and turned her head toward him. She smiled.

He swallowed and opened his mouth. Even now, he was not used to being watched like this. It still felt forbidden, wicked. If it is, he told himself, I'm already done for. He removed his undershirt first; then he doubled over as he lowered his pants and stepped out of them. He inhaled, and pinched the sides of his boxers' waistband.

"Wait," she spoke. Ms. Bandy stepped toward him - her eyes narrowed, piercing him like a wolf's; the left side of her mouth pulled up into a lopsided grin as she loosened the sash on her robe, which gently fell open as she walked, exposing her red panties, her flat belly, and her sternum, the rest mostly hidden by the robe. The blood rushed from his face directly into his penis, which stiffened almost immediately. When she stood less than a foot away from him, she looked down, and placed her fingers inside of his waistband at the front, sliding them around to either side of his hips; as she did so, the tip of his cock emerged from his pants. Looking down, he could see every detail of her chest's skin — flawless, white, smooth — curving into her robe, hanging loose over her breasts. She looked up at him with her eyes - they had a deep yearning in them, and she smiled slowly, as she squatted to the ground, taking his boxers with her.

She stood again and patted his bottom. "Hop to," she said. He walked over to the massage table.

***

Holly gently pushed Jake away, with her palm at his chest. "Are you okay with this? I mean, do you think we should be doing this?" she asked, a sudden look of fear in her eyes. "I - we - promised our parents we would wait."

He nodded. "We have waited; we are waiting," he responded. "We've waited longer than anyone we know!"

"Jake," she said, worriedly. "Are we lying to them?"

"We're eighteen years old. We're old enough to kiss each other," he said, and he leaned in to kiss her again. She stopped him again.

"I like you so much, I really do," she said. God, he thought, stop talking and just kiss me. "I just want to know that we're doing the right thing."

"This feels so right to me," he answered. It apparently worked. She took his neck in her hand again.

***

"How does this feel, Jake?"

He was clutching at the mattress, watching as she stroked, her face just inches from the head of his cock. "So good, so good," he jabbered. He dropped his head back on the pillow and grunted as a blast of cum came gushing out from his urethra. His feet splayed open, and he dropped his arms off to the sides and hung low.

"Towel time!" she exclaimed, and she skipped like a girl over to her steam box. Today she wore a pink string bikini, the top comprised of little triangles that barely covered her nipples and a simple bottom that rode up her crevice not unlike an actual thong. Jake watched her muscular ass muscles flex with each bounce. He was in heaven.

The Blue Devils were now 8-0, and Jake had become the undisputed leader of the team. His play had been masterful over the last month - he led the squad in points, and was in the top two for assists and steals. In the game against Western Christian he dunked on the opposing team's center at an away game and even their crowd applauded. Jake had been interviewed by the town newspaper — which named him 'High School Athlete of the Month,' and whose reporter asked him to what he attributed his success (he credited his faith in God) — and the school newspaper, which entitled their article 'Franklin's BMOC.' Division I scouts at the games were now a common occurrence from all over the South and Midwest. But more than anything else, Jake looked forward to his pre-game warmup.

Ms. Bandy placed the first towel over his face, as always, and cleaned him with the second. She put on some sort of New Age music, which was something she recently started, lit a few candles, and turned off the lights. Normally, this was when she would get dressed and leave the room; today he heard footsteps approaching, and then felt her hot breath on his right ear.

"How do you feel?" she whispered.

"The best I ever have," he told her. There was a pause.

"Hm. That's what I was afraid of," she said. He found it cryptic, but before he could ask what that meant, he could hear her walking away.

***

"Holly, you're so pretty," he whispered in her ear, before kissing her neck, her head falling lightly on top of his face as he did so. Her arms moved under his, embracing him fully, her young breasts pushing against his ribs. He kissed all along her neck, to under her chin, back up to her lips, as she panted some into his mouth. He could tell how aroused she was becoming as she moaned and gripped at his arms. He realized he wasn't yet hard. This isn't enough, he thought to himself. I need more. His hands moved to her breasts, squeezing them firmly; then, taking her by the armpits and leveraging his height and weight, he pressed his hips down into her and slid between her legs until he was fully on top of her.

***

The Franklin Academy varsity basketball team was going for their first undefeated December in five years, as they prepared for the final game before the winter break. Their last win against St. Mary's had been their closest of the season. Will Wilson lead all scorers with a season-high thirty-two points, followed by Jake's sixteen and eight rebounds. A Crusaders turnover with seven seconds left resulted in a foul and two shots, which point guard Kevin Turner turned into a two point win. It wasn't Jake's best game of the season, but it wasn't the worst of his life. He felt satisfied, although he knew that he could and would do better next game, as he walked toward Ms. Bandy's break room.

He knocked; she opened the door in her gym teacher outfit — sweatsuit, white tee, hair pulled back, sneakers. Odd, he thought. He guessed she must have been in a rush. "Come in, Jacob," she said calmly. "Are you ready for Win Number Ten tonight?"

"I sure am," he said as he entered and smiled. He began to take off his clothes right after she shut the door and locked it. Ms. Bandy walked over to a trunk by the north wall, and opened it as he disrobed. "Lay down on your back today when you're done and close your eyes," she called out. Jake had lost any fear of being naked in front of her; indeed, he had grown to like it. He confidently took off his boxers and put himself atop the massage table.

He closed his eyes and smiled in anticipation of the pleasure to come. He no longer saw the masturbation as a sin; how could it be? It felt so fantastic, and he felt so free afterward. He still believed in God, but he now could not accept that any Supreme Being would devise pleasures like this only to forbid them. Indeed, so many of the teachings he had believed his entire life were being exposed as lies, as methods of control. How could he have been so blind? he now wondered. What else had he missed out on?

He felt Ms. Bandy place a blindfold over his eyes and tie it in the back. Next, she took his left wrist, and looped a cord around it. He lifted his head as if to speak, but he felt her hand on top of his head, gently pushing down. "Easy there," she said. "Just relax. Trust me."

A second loop went around his right hand. A moment later, he felt the same sensation on his right foot, and then his left. From beneath the table, he heard fidgeting and a mechanical clicking; in an instant, all four loops contracted, tightening, pulling down on his limbs, spreading them wide.

"Hey, that kinda hurts," he said to her.

"Jake, Jake, Jake," Ms. Bandy said, as she circled around him. "This was never going to be all pleasure and no pain. Nothing in life worth having is." He felt her fingernails drag across his chest and over his stomach. "When we began, I gave you what you needed, that's all. But doing the same thing over and over isn't going to push you forward. You're more confident than ever, which is great! That was the plan; but I'm afraid that without the ability to recognize and withstand pain, your confidence might turn into arrogance. It's a classic pitfall of the star athlete. You need to be able to separate the subtleties between pleasure and pain, to balance the confidence with humility. Do you understand?"

He didn't. And with all her talk of pain in the midst of his total vulnerability, he began to panic.

"Ms. Bandy . . . Hey, I - I - just wanted a massage," he stammered. She tittered.

"There's my stuttering Jake again! I was starting to miss him." There was the sound of a match striking and igniting a wick.

He felt a burning liquid sensation in his belly button.

"Ow! Hey! Stop!" he cried out.

"Oh, don't be such a baby, Jake! It's just candle wax." He could feel it cooling and hardening in his navel. He tried to grab at it, but his bondage wouldn't budge.

The dripping continued, from his navel to his waist to just above the base of his penis.

"Oh, oh god, stop . . . Ow! Don't, I mean it!"

"Don't what?" she asked innocently.

""Don't . . . do it on my . . .aaAAAAH!!" The searing hot wax dripped all over his glans, shaft, and testicles as she held the lit candle mere inches away from his crotch. He wrestled fruitlessly in his restraints. "Fuck! FUCK!" He could hear Ms. Bandy laughing.

"Why, Jacob Packert, did you just use the F word? That is a very bad boy right there," she said, as if she were speaking to a toddler. But it was true; he had never said that out loud, not that he could remember, though he had thought it numerous times. "This calls for extra punishment."

With her hand he could feel her breaking up the hard wax, as she squeezed his balls and penis too roughly, making him squirm. "Just stop this, seriously," he said. He wanted no more. Perhaps he had thrown out his prior beliefs too hastily.

"We just got started, sweetie," Ms. Bandy said, his ball sack still in her hand. "Don't you trust me any more?" He calmed his breathing. She had brought him this far. He wanted to win, and she wanted to help him win. He nodded.

Pulling his sack up, she smoothed his genitals up toward his stomach. Despite the echo of pain resonating there, his cock started moving and growing in size. Suddenly, a greasy finger circled around the small hole of his anus. He opened his mouth in shock. "Hey, I dunno about . . . "

She shoved her index finger, covered in some sort of goo, inside of Jacob, causing him to moan. His cock engorged to full erection immediately, and with her other hand she tickled it from bottom to top. Her finger entered, pulled out to the border, then pushed in deeper.

"Fuck!" he yelled again. "Fuck! Fuck . . . "

He was short of breath, almost choking. His cock was twitching wildly. Each time she entered, a new sensation began to slowly expand, becoming more real with every insertion.

He paused, and allowed himself to experience the fullness of the moment. He realized that he liked it. "F-fuck . . . Fuck me, Ms. Bandy,"

She guffawed. "You want me to fuck you, Jake? My goodness! I can't believe what I'm hearing!" she teased. "You want me to fuck you with my finger?"

He felt it pressing against the back of his anus; his head lolled around. "Yes," he whispered. She went deeper, faster, slower.

"Oh . . . Oh! Oh god! Fuck me! Fuck me harder!" he groaned. Once he had broken the seal on profanities, every horrible thought he ever suppressed was pouring out of him like booze from a broken bottle.

Something pressed against his cock — smooth, cool, firm — and he realized it was her cheek; she moved his dick across her face and touched him with her lips. Her tongue ran up from the middle of his cock to the tip.

"I kinda wanna put it into my mouth," she said aloud. "Is that wrong?" Before waiting for an answer, she kissed the glans, twice, and took it into her open lips, caressing the bottom of it with her tongue. She pushed her face down to the midway point, where he felt himself touching the roof of her mouth. She went up again, then down again, farther down, where her throat wrapped around the tip of his penis; she sucked at it gently, gliding it with soft pressure. She did this several times, before coming up, gasping for air, saliva dripping down her mouth and all over his groin.