by Lucia Franco
Too bad it was nine at night and I had nowhere to go. I hated this. The after effect following a long and demanding day made it difficult for me to wind down once I was home. I was restless, antsy, and anxious. I wanted to sleep, but there was no going to sleep until at least midnight. I was lucky if I got five hours of sleep, but it was never solid or straight through.
I had no homework. No one to talk to. And I didn't care to watch television. My body needed the rest, so it was a good thing, but I was jittery.
Alone, I sat on my bed with my knee bouncing, trying to read a book. My mind drifted every few paragraphs, I couldn’t focus. I thought about the meet coming up, my routines, how I was faring. A sharp pain shot through my chest. I was confident I had a good shot at testing elite the first time, but I frowned when I thought back to Kova's comment earlier today about my weight.
He insisted I had lost weight.
Standing up, I considered the floor length mirror. I ripped off my pajama shorts and loose shirt and dropped them to the floor. I took three steps and stood in front of the mirror in only a pair of panties. With wide, startled eyes, I stared at my reflecting image as I studied myself from head to toe.
My heart sank. Kova was on the money.
I had lost weight. A lot of weight—at least a good ten pounds, maybe more—which was depressing since I didn't have much to lose to begin with. And ten pounds on a gymnast of my stature was a substantial amount. I hadn't even noticed. My leotards were made to be snug, so were all my workout clothes. And I didn't take pictures of my scale and send them to my mom anymore. Though if I did tonight, she'd be happier than a pig in shit.
While I hadn't skipped every meal, thinking back, I'd skipped at least one a day. I wasn't starving myself, I just wasn't hungry.
As I pulled my hair up into a messy bun, my collarbone protruded and caused ghastly indents. Thank goodness for my Italian roots that blessed me with olive skin, otherwise I'd look sickly. My ribs strained against my skin when I inhaled deeply, displaying the length of the bones. While I could count each rib, there was no denying I still had elegant muscle definition. Toned and lean. Even my breasts seemed perkier. I turned around and looked over my shoulder, my gaze wandering down each visible vertebrate, and over my high, firm butt that highlighted gorgeous glutes.
In my eyes, I was perfect. When I really studied myself, I loved the way I looked and that's what mattered most. This was the best shape I'd ever been in to date. A smile spread across my face when I spotted the distinct thigh gap so many woman envied. My hand slipped between my legs, my fingers roaming the soft skin on my inner thighs. Arching my ass a little higher, I could see my supple sex through my tiny, white panties. My lips parted.
I loved the way I looked from this angle. A little sexy, a little innocent.
Walking over to the bed, I reached for my phone beneath the rumpled sheets and quickly shot Kova a text message. I'd been a bitch for no reason earlier and needed to make amends.
Me: I'm sorry.
His response was immediate.
Coach: For…?
Me: You were right, I lost a good amount of weight. I'm staring at myself…
I chewed my lip, debating whether I should tell him I wasn’t wearing anything, then thought screw it.
Me: …naked in front of a mirror.
The corner of my lips curved as I stared at my phone, waiting. I felt like being promiscuous. Let him imagine me naked. I wanted him to.
Coach: How much weight?
He didn’t make me wait long.
Me: I didn't weigh myself. I can just tell by looking.
Coach: Please go weigh yourself for me or I will weigh you tomorrow when you come in.
I stepped onto the scale and sent him a photo, making sure my lean legs were in it.
Me: I lost twelve pounds.
Coach: This does not please me. It leaves me very concerned. You should not be dropping weight this fast, Ria. I want you to see a physician.
I pursed my lips together. I could hear the devil whispering in my ear as I typed out my reply.
Me: Nothing pleases you.
Coach: You know very well that is not true.
My brows shot up in part disbelief, part glee. I was a little more surprised he took the bait, though I wasn't sure why since I knowingly triggered him.
Me: It is.
Me: You're never happy or satisfied.
Anticipation flowed through me, butterflies swirled in my stomach as I stood in front of the mirror clutching my cell phone eagerly to see where this conversation would lead. Turning around, I took a photo of the stance I was in earlier, and my phone chimed with his reply.
Coach: You know I have been satisfied plenty before…
I blinked, then blinked again.
My heart was fucking racing a mile a minute. He was going there. Kova was totally going there, and I didn't know what to say or how to act because I didn't actually think it would happen.
Taking a gamble, I sent him the photo I just took.
Then he shocked me even more. He replied with a picture of me…sleeping.
Coach: Ria, your weight does not displease me when you look like this.
My breath hitched in my throat. I stared in awe before tapping on the image to zoom in. I lay curled on my side with my loose shirt hanging low to reveal a sinuous curve of my breasts, just enough to hide my nipples. Crescent moon eyelashes lay thick against my makeup free cheeks, my supple lips slightly parted. I looked flawless, and dare I say, sensual, rousing, even…erotic.
My fingers twitched to send a reply, but I was rendered speechless. I didn't know how to respond. So many thoughts crossed my mind. I wasn’t bothered Kova had taken photos of me, I had photos of him, but I worried what kind of complications it could create if his phone ended up in the wrong hands with these kinds of images. They weren't pictures of two friends smiling from ear to ear. It was bad enough we’ve had sex, but this crossed another line completely. One neither of us could dodge.
Before I could respond, another photo came in. My eyes widened and my breath caught in my throat. This time I was on my back, arms relaxed above my head, crossing over each other. My nipples prodded the thin layer of my shirt that rested extremely low on my chest. Low enough that when I zoomed in, I could see the raspberry outline of my areola. My heart pounded against my ribs so hard I could feel the pulse in my neck.
Me: Kova...
Coach: You say I have never been satisfied. This is proof that I have.
Me: Of me sleeping?
Coach: Yes.
This was insane! I prayed to God he didn't have them in plain sight.
Me: Where do you keep them? Please tell me not in your photo stream.
Coach: No, of course not. I have secret apps hidden inside other apps. They require passwords. No one will find them.
Me: Okay, that's not creepy at all. I had no idea that was even possible.
Coach: Anything is possible if you want it bad enough.
Me: How many do you have of me?
Coach: Plenty more. Does it bother you?
I paused and weighed his question before answering honestly.
Me: It should bother me, but no, not really. I like them. They remind me of Katja's boudoir ones.
Coach: Trust me, these are far better than a boudoir picture. It is you in your natural environment. Beautiful.
Beautiful. A word suddenly laced with want and desire. I'd never forget it.
Kova sent another photo. The room was draped in darkness, save a shadow of light coming from the hallway. My knees were pulled up and bent, one ankle draped over the other. The hem of my shirt rested on my flat belly and my pale pink bikini panties showed. I looked alluring. I had no idea I could incite such a response while I slept. Another came in, the same position, only my leg had fallen onto the bed, exposing the center of my body. The dark hairs I hadn't shaved that day showed in a triangle at my center. I realized it was the night of the ice bath, when he stayed over.
Me: Why do you have images of me like this in your phone?
Coach: They remind me to look and not touch.
Me: Lol! It’s not possible for you to look and not touch.
Coach: You make me crazy when I am around you. All I can think about is touching you.
All the air left my lungs. I saw him seven days a week, a good ten to fifteen hours on days when I didn't have tutoring. He always had his hands on me during practice and our private classes. And yet that wasn't enough. He needed pictures of me.
This man confused me to no end. Just when I think I've figured him out, he hits me with something new, and it's as if I'd never known him at all.
Me: You make me look beautiful.
Coach: I do not do anything. It is all you, malyshka.
Me: Malyshka? I thought it was malysh.
Coach: My phone will autocorrect to the correct spelling. It is actually malyshka, but I shortened it to malysh. It is like equivalent to babe.
Seconds turned to minutes turned to silence. Figuring this was a good place to end the conversation, I placed my phone down and went to pick up my clothes I had dropped on the floor earlier. We'd never texted like this, and while I found myself liking it much more than I should, it struck a worry of fear through me. There had been no evidence of our relationship before, and now there was.
Coach: What would you title this photo? I want your first thought.
My stomach tightened as I sat rock steady waiting for the image to come through. Something in my gut told me it would be more suggestive.
Sure enough, I was right on the money.
It matched the last photo, except this time Kova's hand was gripping my inner thigh. His fingers were so close to the lining of my panties.
And it was hot as fuck.
Me: The corruption of an honorable man. I replied, giving the picture a title.
Coach: Okay. And what about this one?
The camera was angled differently this time. Instead of it being at my side, it was taken further down the length of my body without the view of my face. Like he moved to sit next to me.
My lips parted, desire igniting within me as I stared in revelation. His hand was curled against the center of my sex, cupping me, his thumb pressed into my mound.
I was instantly wet from the image.
Shit. This was bad. This was very bad.
But it felt so fucking good that I couldn't contain the smirk that slid across my mouth. I wasn't that young. There were girls having sex at thirteen and babies by fourteen.
At least, that's what I told myself.
Me: Lustful exploitation and hunger. Sin. Wicked. Prey.
Before he could respond, I shot him another text.
Me: I thought the sole purpose of these photos was to not touch.
Coach: Morals were never my strong suit.
Me: Why can’t you ever just be open and honest about how you feel? How you act confuses the hell out of me. It hurts.
Coach: I never said I was perfect. Being misleading is easier because I cannot explain the shit that goes on in my head. Both sound recklessly accurate in that moment.
I mused over his text. From his point of view, it made complete sense because I felt the exact way.
Me: You're right, I'll give you that. I guess from now on, whatever you say and do, I'm going to have to assume you mean the opposite. Talk about a mind fuck.
Coach: Trust me, I confuse myself.
Me: Show me more. I know you have more.
He just admitted he lacked morals, I presumed he had more photos of me hidden away.
Coach: You want more? You are not upset? Disgusted?
Me: Not even close.
And I wasn’t.
Kova sent another photo. He was seated between my legs, my knees spread out, and his hands gripped the top of my pale pink underwear, like he was ready to rip them off. They were teasingly pulled down half way, and the embarrassing dark little hairs peaked out. I was going to have my shit waxed religiously after this. I hated the way that looked. But then again, it also showed I wasn't as young as it originally appeared either.
God. I was just as bad as Kova.
The next image showed his hand underneath the thin material of my panties, his thumb pressing on my vagina. His covered penis was hard and in view. I noted a damp circle just below his hand. My body hummed with desperate hunger. I was just as wet in person as I visibly was in the photo.
Me: Carnal.
Me: Everything about this photo is purely erotic.
No amount of words could describe the next picture that came in. Just feelings. And what I was feeling was not a normal response.
My panties were gone and so were his shorts. The hard tip of his shaft pressed against my glistening lips, hugging the swollen head of his penis while I slept.
Holy. Fuck.
A soft sigh escaped my lips. I became feverish and an aching throb resonated between my legs. My body tingled everywhere with feelings I didn't know how to put into words.
That was it. I was destined to go to hell for wanting more, for being soaking wet at the illicit image before me.
In the next photo, my entire body looked soft and inviting while Kova was partially in. Jesus Christ, a fucking moan vibrated in the back of my throat as I zoomed in on the length of his cock and our joined bodies. I was surprised he had such lewd photos of me, but thankful none showed my face.
But then he texted three little words that caused my stomach to plummet in what would undoubtedly change everything. My heart raced so hard my pulse thrashed in every spot on my body. I could hear it in my ears. My chest ached as I struggled for air. My panties were soaking wet and sticking to me.
Coach: It is live.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I hadn’t noticed the little dotted circle in the top corner. I'd been too focused on the content, I completely skimmed over it.
Turning up the volume, I held the image down with my thumb…and fucking died.
Erotic sounds of a drag and a pull that could only be recognized as sex teased faintly in the background. And to my absolute shock, my hips shifted of their own accord as Kova slid in halfway. I was as drenched in this live photo as I was while I watched.
Then it stopped.
No! I watched it again and again, secretly wishing for more, but there wasn't any more to it.
Until he sent an actual video.
Heart in my throat, I pressed play and watched with parted lips and zealous eyes as fiery blood rushed through my veins. Kova had a hand clamped around my hip as he slowly pulled his bare cock out and inched back in halfway. My hips rose in need—or he lifted them—I wasn't sure, and a long mew echoed in the background. He pulled out and gripped his cock at the crown, using it to trace circles around my pink clit a handful of times before plunging back into my slumbering body, this time all the way. The view of the camera showed Kova's sexy toned pelvis contracting and flexing as he pushed his hips forward until he was flush against me. He was panting hard and a growl intertwined with a sensual moan. My pussy ached with desire as I watched his free thumb circle my clit, a loud sigh of pure abandon sounded in the background, and the faint flicker of a memory teased my mind.
His thumb picked up the pace and my hips stirred faster from his illicit touch. My breathing deepened, and I whimpered in noticeable pleasure in the video. There was no way to confuse the sounds fleeing me. Bits and pieces were coming back to me. I'd thought it was a deep sleep sex kind of dream I'd had that night. I remember waking up with a sweet, throbbing ache between my legs and wishing it were true. I undoubtedly loved every second, just like I did now. My hips moved and moved until I orgasmed over his cock in a slow, hard wave. A long dreamy moan played in the background that could never be confused for anything other than pure bliss.
The camera dropped from his hand and fell into the sheets. I couldn't see anything now save for a black screen, but I could hear the grunting and groaning and sounds of euphoria that came from Kova. My
panties were soaking wet as I listened in fascination, my fingers itching to touch myself.
There was some shuffling and shifting and the camera view was back. The top of my sex was exposed and flushed with a cherry hue, his penis seated deep inside. My breathing labored, and in this moment, I wished this exact thing was happening.
As Kova slowly pulled out his glistening cock, a thin line of white dripping fluid followed. Cursing in Russian, he gripped himself and the rest of his orgasm unloaded all over my pussy. He pressed his throbbing head against my center as he did. Fluid so thick and creamy seeped everywhere, like he was coming for hours.
The video stopped, and I was out of breath, and in dire need of an orgasm. Maybe five.
Fuck. That was the hottest thing I'd ever seen in my life and I knew nothing would compare. I quickly saved the video to my photos and chewed my lip. That was raw and uncut and hot as sin.
Me: Come over.
I needed him in me.
Coach: Make sure you delete all these photos.
Me: Only if you come over. Otherwise, I'm keeping them, especially the video.
I should've deleted them. I didn't have sneaky apps like he had, but it was hot as hell and I wanted to be able to watch it again whenever I felt like it.
But then something dawned on me and I had to call him. I for sure thought he was going to click the fuck you button on me until the phone stopped ringing, followed by a rustling sound, low grunts, a door shutting, and then finally his rich voice. "Allo?"
