The gang begins its two days of sexual games.
His hands were strong and deft, but I didn't want them touching me now, not like this: alone in an empty building, with no one to hear me cry out.
One hand suddenly went up to my throat, pinning me to the wall, his hazel eyes piercing my large, dark brown ones. Suddenly my red plaid shirt and skinny indigo jeans felt uncomfortable, as a prickly heat spread over my body. My breath caught in my throat and I managed to whisper, "Why are you doing this?"
"Because now that you're legal, I can," he said with a low laugh.
Then he spun me around and pulled me against his chest as his hands began to explore my breasts, my neck, my soft stomach. Yanking my hair, he pulled my entire body into a tight hold with both arms, and he lowered his head to my neck, breathing in my scent. I knew it was soft, musky, sweet. I felt the prickle of his stubble first, then the pressure of his lips behind my ear. His tongue, wet and soft.
I had never thought of Coach in this way. Had never let my mind wander into sexual territory when thinking of him. He was a figure of authority, a friendly mentor. He had a wife and family for God's sake!
But with his mouth on my neck, his body pressed against mine, and a bulge jutting into my butt through his jeans, my mind was no longer thinking rationally. As if under a spell, I inhaled his scent: sweat, sun, grass, laundry detergent from his t-shirt, something else, something intoxicating.
Unbuttoning my shirt, he drew back to peel it off me and tossed it to the floor. Then he unhooked my bra, and shame washed over me as it fell away.
This is my coach! I'm a good girl, and only an equally wholesome and caring guy should be touching me like this. It wasn't supposed to happen like this.
Cheeks burning, I choked back a sob. Being touched by him felt so good, but so deeply wrong at the same time.
Now bare, he massaged my breasts more roughly. Pinched the erect nipples so hard my eyes watered and my nose began to run.
"You're so hot, I've been wanting to do this for so long," he breathed into my hair.
Then, hands on my hips, he turned me around and assaulted me with a deep, passionate kiss. Awakening some primal urge inside me, I kissed back, feeling his heart thumping in his chest. Fingers hooked tightly through the belt loops of my jeans, he pulled my pelvis into him and ground against me. The bulge in his pants rubbed my clit through our clothes.
So good, it feels so good.
Breaking the kiss, his eyes traveled down my body. As if deciding suddenly to feast, he tore my fly open and pulled my jeans halfway down my thighs. Massaging the soft white flesh of my buttocks, the tips of his fingers felt me through my panties, dipping into the hot, damp crevice between my legs.
Moaning involuntarily, my hands went to his shoulders to steady my balance. As his fingers continued to rub the crack between my butt cheeks, down to my pussy and back up again, I unconsciously wrapped my arms around his back and closed my eyes. Reveling in the raw pleasure, my hands traveled down his back and gripped his buttocks, pulling him against me.
Suddenly he stepped back and, caught up in the moment, I protested. "Look at you," he snickered. "You fucking slut." He quickly pulled off his t-shirt, revealing his hardened chest, his abs sculpted by miles of running.
In my shame and confusion, my heart ran, too. The little girl inside me was now miles and miles away. Broken, perhaps gone forever.
Upset and angry at this fucked up situation, I decided he would not take my virginity without a fight. Savagely, I pushed him back, and slapped him with all my strength.
Startled by the force of my slap, he stopped for a second. Breathing hard, my eyes leveled with his, daring him breach to me again. Then anger contorted his face like a hurricane and he slapped me back. Hard.
Stunned, I stood there for a moment, as the pain pulsed through my jaw.