Coach Long

by K. Webster

  Nodding, I set to fidgeting with the hem of my skirt. “Sexual. I have a problem crushing on older men.”

  He chuckles. “Like your silly guidance counselor?”

  I cringe at the very thought of being in Mr. Polk’s bed.

  “More like my coach,” I breathe out.

  His amusement dissipates and he motions for me to stand. “That skirt is too short for school. I’m going to get my ruler and measure it.”

  “What?”

  “Up, Miss Banks.” He snags a ruler from his desk and points with it. “Put your palms on the desk so I can take a look.”

  I’m in shock but he watches me with a serious stare. On shaky legs, I stand and place my hands on the smooth surface. I soon feel the cold metal of the ruler against the back of my thigh. His hand grips my flesh as he measures.

  “Definitely too short,” he chides as he squats behind me. “Miss Banks, I can see your black panties. This is unacceptable.”

  I’m frozen in place because even though Mr. Polk is older and sort of cute, I’m not into what he’s doing with me at all.

  “Three licks.”

  “What?”

  He stands and slides the ruler against the inside of my thigh, lifting my skirt with it. “At this school, girls are punished for breaking dress code. Three slaps with the ruler.”

  I start to argue but he cracks me over the back of my bare thigh with the metal. Tears spring in my eyes. He hits me twice more, quickly and painfully, before he lets the metal ruler clatter to his desk.

  “Now take off that skirt.”

  I jerk my head around. “What?”

  He opens a drawer and retrieves a pair of ugly gray gym shorts. “You’ll change into these and wear them the rest of the school day.”

  I catch the shorts when he throws them at me and wobble toward the door.

  “Now, Miss Banks.”

  “I’m not changing in front of you,” I spit.

  “I don’t believe you’ll leave and put them straight on. Do it now. You can trust me. I’m not into little girls like Coach Long,” he snaps.

  I’m so shocked by his words that I quickly unhook my skirt and let it fall to the floor. His eyes dart to my black panties. I yank up the shorts to end his peep show.

  “You’ll stay in that class for now,” he says in a soft tone. “But I’ll look into some therapist referrals.” He frowns and shakes his head. “You clearly do need help. Wearing little skirts to school to seduce your teachers is unhealthy.” His hand grips my shoulder. “But we’re going to get you better, sweetheart.”

  Tears leak down my cheeks and I bolt from his office. It isn’t until I’m halfway to Everett’s class that I stop to swipe my tears and understand what just happened. I feel icky inside. What just happened was wrong. This felt completely different than the natural attraction between Everett and me.

  “Nice to see you could grace us with your presence, River,” Everett barks from the front of his classroom. His back is to the class as he writes formulas on the board. Several students snigger at my horrible outfit while I all but run to take my seat. As soon as I sit down, the backs of my thighs sting where Mr. Polk swatted me with his ruler. At the memory, more tears well in my eyes. I can’t focus on Everett’s lecture because my mind is spinning.

  Should I tell someone what happened?

  Would they even believe me after my past?

  I’m confused and upset. I spend the rest of the period locked in my head. When the bell rings, I’m jolted from my thoughts.

  “River,” Everett barks from his desk behind me. “See me after everyone leaves.”

  Once the classroom empties out, I stand and make my way to his desk. My eyes are cast downward. I want to tell Everett but he’ll probably tell me I seduced Mr. Polk like I seduced him. Shame infects me and bile rises in my throat.

  “Detention isn’t the end of the world,” he says in a gruff tone.

  He swivels around in his chair to face me, a frown of concern painting his features. My heart clenches in my chest as stupid tears form again.

  “Hey,” he says softly. “What’s wrong?”

  I shrug and my bottom lip wobbles.

  “You upset over a dress code violation?” He motions to the ugly gray shorts I’m wearing. The entire time with Mr. Polk floods through me and I burst into tears. “Emo, talk to me. What’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”

  “It was my fault.”

  He scowls and stands, towering over me. “What was your fault?”

  “My skirt was too short.”

  “What was your fault?”

  “I didn’t know it would be such a problem. I thought it was cute.”

  “What was your fault?”

  “It hurt.”

  His strong hands cup my face and he tilts my face up to look at him. “What hurt?” He looks positively furious but I feel compelled to tell him, even if he yells at me. I trust him.

  “The licks.”

  Confusion twists his features up and the muscle in his neck twitches. “What are you talking about?”

  “The spankings with the ruler. For dress code violation.” I start to cry again.

  He looks so angry I wonder if he wants to slap me. I probably deserve it. His thumb is gentle though when he swipes away my tear. “Did Polk hurt you?”

  “I deserved it.”

  I’m pulled against him in a surprisingly fierce hug. He strokes my hair and kisses the top of my head. I’m so confused. Why isn’t he mad at me?

  “I’m going to fucking kill him. I will murder him with my bare hands,” he snarls against my hair.

  This only makes me cry harder because, for once in my life, someone seems to believe me. For once, I feel like I have someone on my team. He releases me and regards me with a tender expression. “Are you okay? Tell me everything.”

  I sniffle and explain to him the entire meeting. I even confess about my past—how I told him a glorified version. Then, I tell him about the spankings and undressing in front of Mr. Polk. By the time I’m finished, I’m afraid the vein that is bulging in his neck is going to explode.

  “Oh, River,” he says in a soft, regretful tone. He hugs me once more before pulling away and the angry scowl is painted on his face again. “Come on.”

  When he stalks toward the door, I jolt into action. “Don’t you have class?”

  “Planning period,” he calls out over his shoulder. “And I’m planning to have a little talk with the motherfucker who hurt you.”

  I trot after him and fear rises up inside me. What if we get into trouble? What if they somehow find out about us? What if Dad has to move us away again? By the time we reach the office, I’m tense as hell with worry. Everett has calmed and wears a scary cold expression on his face.

  “My student and I need to meet with Mr. Polk,” he barks at the secretary, Mrs. Compton.

  “He’s with another student.” Mrs. Compton’s disgusted gaze flickers to me. “Another dress code violation.” Terror clutches me by the throat. What if I’m not the only person he’s done that to?

  “Well it’s a good thing I’m here to discuss the dress code,” Everett bites out at her before stalking over to Mr. Polk’s office. He pushes through the door but then stops in his tracks. When I peek around him, my heart sinks.

  A girl named Olivia from one of my other classes—a girl who laughed when someone called me Stripper—stares at me with bright red cheeks. Mr. Polk’s back is to us but his hand is between her legs. Her shame-filled eyes meet mine and a tear slips out. I close the door behind me so nobody has to witness this.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Everett roars as he stalks forward and rips Mr. Polk away from Olivia. He slings him to the wall and a picture crashes to the floor.

  I rush over to Olivia and throw my arms around her. “Are you okay?”

  She’s stiff for a moment before she bursts into tears and sags in my arms. “I…he said…I didn’t want to…” A sob escapes her.

  “You sick
motherfucker,” Everett snarls from behind me. I can hear Mr. Polk gasping for air. When I turn around, Everett has him pushed against the wall, his throat in a death grip. Mr. Polk struggles but is no match for my giant coach. His face turns bright red. “Get her out of here,” Everett barks at me.

  I grab Olivia’s hand and drag her from the office. I’m about to close the door when I hear a sickening crunch.

  I can’t help but grin. And Olivia smiles too.

  It took both Adam Renner, the principal, and Steve Jenkins, a history teacher, to get me off of Sean. I’d been so overcome with rage that I was going to kill him. One look at River when she came into my classroom earlier, and I knew she was upset. Scared, even. I hated the way her lips turned down in sadness, unlike the normally playful smiles she wears. But then she told me everything that happened. I was furious. Sure, I’d heard the rumors that Sean was a flirt with the students. I never thought much of it. Never did I imagine he was molesting them behind his office door.

  For two hours, the police have interviewed girls, long after they hauled Sean off in a squad car. Thankfully, I didn’t get into trouble for beating his ass. The other staff members and the cops all had respect for me over what happened—their expressions said everything. Unfortunately, sixteen other girls confided that he’d touched them, kissed them, or whipped them with his stupid fucking ruler. Including my River.

  I stood by her side until her parents got there. I’d expected them to be worried about her. Her mother seemed embarrassed to be seen with her. But it was her father that nearly got his ass kicked. I overheard the comment, “What did you do now, River?”

  Shame washed over her and her shoulders went slack. The guilt seemed to bring her down to nothing. Gone was my vibrant sassy girl. And it pissed me right the fuck off.

  Before they left, she crammed a note into my hand. I didn’t open it until the police let me go and I was in my car.

  Please call me later. I don’t have anyone to talk to.

  She’d scribbled her number on the paper. A protectiveness washes over me and I text her right away.

  Me: I’ll pick you up and then we’ll talk.

  I put my car into drive and pass through a drive through on my way to her house. When I pull into her driveway, she bounds down the steps with her backpack slung over her shoulders. She’s long since changed out of the hideous gym shorts and looks more like herself wearing the plaid skirt from earlier. I love that the defiant look on her face is back.

  She climbs in beside me and beams when I hand her a milkshake. Neither of us speak until we’re back at my house and sitting at the bar. River pokes at the burger I got her while I inhale mine.

  “Thank you,” she murmurs.

  “He’s a sick bastard. There’s nothing to thank me for.”

  “Olivia told me Mr. Polk’s girlfriend was your ex-fiancée. Was that why you were so angry with him?” she asks and then takes a bite of her burger.

  Actually, when I charged in there and saw him with his hand on that girl, I’d not been thinking about Julie at all, even though she’s framed all over his office. “I was angry because he’s a pervert. Because he hurts girls.” My voice lowers and I push a tendril of pink hair away from her face. “Because he hurt you.”

  We’re both quiet for a moment.

  “Those guys from my past…” Her nose scrunches as she flashes me a thoughtful expression. “It was different,” she says softly. “It was different with you.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I liked you because you were brooding and arrogant and beautiful. It had nothing to do with your age or your profession. And then you were so tender with me when I was hurt. My attraction to you was genuine.” Her bottom lip wobbles. “It wasn’t some twisted game to me.”

  I give her a sad smile. “I believe you. But it changes nothing. I can be your friend but that’s it, Emo. Especially now. The cops and staff will be all over everyone at that school. It’s dangerous bringing you here but I couldn’t leave you by yourself. Not after your dad all but accused you of being the cause of Polk’s perverseness.”

  She seems to accept my answer and we finish our meal. While I clean up our mess, she wanders to the back of the house. I find her tiny little body fast asleep by the time I make it into my room. She looks too damn sweet on my bed. At least she’s wearing clothes, even if they are short and tight. I kick off my shoes and stretch out beside her. I’m fully dressed so that I’m not tempted to let her rub up against me like last time.

  The events of the day catch up to me and I pass out.

  I wake to the sounds of moaning in the dark. I’m disoriented until I see the clock on my nightstand says it’s after midnight. The moaning continues and I roll over to find the source. I stifle a groan when I find River, with the glow of the moon through the window, touching herself through her panties. Her plaid skirt is pushed up to her hips. My cock jolts immediately because I’ve never seen anything so hot.

  So much for just being friends. This girl tempts me like nothing I’ve ever encountered before.

  “Emo…” I warn, my voice thick with sleep.

  She whimpers. “I just need…I told you I have issues…”

  Grumbling, I snag her wrist and jerk it away from her pussy. “You don’t have issues.” I draw her fingers to me and inhale her sweet scent. “I’m the one with issues because I lose all sense of who I am when around you. You turn me on so fucking bad. I’m no better than Polk.”

  “You’re not like him. Not even a little,” she says in a fierce tone. “You’re you and I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  I bring her fingers to my lips and I toe the line between right and wrong. What I want to do is put her tiny fingers in my mouth to see if I can taste her sweet cunt. I want her to fuck my mouth with her hand. But that will just break the very thread that’s keeping me from hurtling off a cliff of sanity. I’ll lose my head and do something severely stupid.

  Like sleep with her.

  My cock aches at that thought.

  Her fingers brush against my lips and that makes my decision for me. I can’t smell her and not taste her. That would be cruel to my psyche. I part my lips and draw her fingers into my mouth. She lets out a small gasp. I show her slowly how I want her to fuck my mouth with her sweet fingers. Once she gets the hang of it, I release her and slip my hand to her soaked panties. I drag my index finger along her seam and stroke her clit softly at first.

  “More,” she begs, her voice a needy whisper.

  I increase the pressure as I rub circles on her bundle of nerves. Her body quivers and shakes the bed. She fucks my mouth with her fingers faster, as if that’ll urge me to do the same. My mind is clear. It’s telling me to stop. That this is wrong. But the man inside of me craves the alluring female in his bed. He doesn’t listen whatsoever.

  All sanity is gone as I slip my fingers into her panties. Her flesh is hot and wet and it feels too good against my hand. I bite her fingers, causing her to yelp.

  “Inside,” she pleads.

  I push a finger inside her hot cunt. Jesus Christ, she’s so tight. Her channel grips me and I can only imagine what my cock will feel like inside her. I bite her fingers hard enough that she jerks them from my mouth.

  “Your pussy is drenched, baby,” I murmur, my voice low and husky. “You must really want my cock to tear you up.” I urge another finger inside her and she fucking squeals. I love the sound of it. “Oh, Emo,” I bite out, “my cock is going to hurt you so bad.”

  Her hands latch into my hair and she pulls me to her. My lips find hers immediately. I kiss her hard and with promise. Each time my tongue dives into her mouth, her pussy clenches around my fingers. Jesus, she’s so goddamned hot.

  “Spread your legs,” I instruct against her mouth. “I want to stretch you out. You’re not big enough to take my thick cock. Those other assholes must have had pencil dicks. I need to get you ready for me.”

  She moans and lifts her hips. I yank her panties down her thig
hs before tossing them away. I slide down the bed and kneel between her spread legs. Pushing her knees up, I give her a wolfish grin in the moonlit room. Her smile back is equally as devilish. My little partner in devious crime.

  Once she’s good and open for me, I slip my finger back into her. The second one goes in easier. It’s the third one that I have trouble with. Slowly, I fuck her with all three just an inch or so inside her. Then, I begin pushing against her tight resistance. When I finally make it past my knuckles, she lets out a hiss of air.

  “I’ve never felt a more perfect cunt,” I tell her as I kiss her thigh. “It’s going to feel so good clamped around my cock.”

  She moans and wriggles. With a knowing smirk, I use my thumb to massage her clit as my other three fingers slide in and out of her. Her juices soak my fingers and probably my bed. One day, when I’m more patient, I’ll take the time to suck her pussy dry. Tonight, I’m far too ravenous for a simple taste.

  “Come for your bad coach, Emo. Come all over your coach’s fingers,” I order.

  “Mmm…”

  “That’s it, baby,” I urge. “I can feel you clench around me every time you get close to coming. You’re going to come so hard on my hand.”

  My words send her over the edge because she cries out before shuddering like a demon-possessed woman on my bed. Her pussy seems to rain its release down over my fingers. It’s then that I realize with excitement that I could probably get her to squirt. Some women are just built that way. I feel like this one sure as hell is. Again, when I’m not about to nut in my pants, I’ll take more time with her.

  “Take off your shirt,” I instruct as I pull my fingers from her tight body. I suck her sweet taste off my hand before undoing the knot in the tie I’m still wearing.

  “That was…” she trails off and sighs. “That was perfect.”

  I chuckle and give her pussy a slap. “Get undressed because I’m about to make you mine, Emo.”