by Lulu Pratt
I exited his office, and promptly found the nearest wall to lean against. My pulse was still racing, and I lifted a hand to my chest to check that I wasn’t having a heart attack. It felt like I’d dodged a bullet, though apparently, I’d never been in any danger in the first place.
I pulled out my phone, and scrolled through my contacts. The school mandated that coaches keep the cell number of every player on their team in case of emergencies — hence why I was able to select Catya’s number out of the batch, and shoot off a text message. It read:
Hey, hope your morning’s going well. I had a wonderful time yesterday, and I can’t wait to see you today. Just wanted to say again that I think we should keep what happened between us, and try not to appear too familiar during practice. Obviously, I wish circumstances were different, but for now, let’s play the hand we were dealt.
Not my finest writing, but it’d have to do. I trusted her to keep quiet on the subject — she didn’t seem like much of a gossip — but after that near-miss with David, there was no harm in covering our bases. And I’d meant it, that part about being excited to see her.
I’d expected an immediate reply. I wasn’t sure why, maybe just because Catya seemed like the type of girl who answered things quickly, was always on top of stuff. Then again, it was possible she wasn’t big on technology. She did also strike me as old fashioned in certain ways. I tucked my phone back in my pocket, hoping she’d respond sooner rather than later. Though if she didn’t, I felt confident that she’d keep it cool at practice. Right?
I spent the rest of the day in my office — which was far less grand than David’s — working on plays for the game next weekend, studying old strategies of our first round opponents, making notes and doing some internet deep dives. It was time consuming, but one of my favorite parts of soccer was the strategizing. It made me feel like a general leading his troops into battle. Plus, it didn’t hurt that I was fairly confident we were gonna kick the asses of the other team, so this was a good time to try out new plays.
Before long, it was time for practice, and I still hadn’t heard back from Catya. Well, there was nothing left to do but cross my fingers and hope for the best.
I made my way to the soccer field a few minutes early, thinking that maybe Catya would show up soon and I’d get a chance to reiterate the gist of my text.
No such luck. She, along with the rest of the girls, arrived precisely on time. While they all went to set their bags down at the sidelines, Catya sidled up to where I sat on the bench, flipping through my notebook.
“I saw your text,” she said under her breath. “Sorry, didn’t see it ‘til just now. Long night. I’ll be very discreet. Super professional. The works.”
“Great, thank you,” I replied, relieved, though I hadn’t doubted that for a minute.
She continued, “But I’ll be thinking about your hard cock the whole time.”
With no further words, she spun on her heel and went back to the rest of the girls, and I was left attempting to stifle a boner. Why did that always happen when she was around? It made me feel like a prepubescent, so turned on I couldn’t even control my body.
For the rest of practice, we tried desperately to keep our eyes off one another, both so afraid that the slightest contact would alert the entire team to our liaison. It worked, of course. I didn’t think anyone would have noticed even if we were talking and laughing and touching each other’s arms, but it didn’t hurt to be paranoid.
At the end of the evening, I called the girls into a huddle.
“All right, everyone,” I said. “Our travel plans for the game next weekend are finalized. You’ll be receiving an email with the itinerary and details shortly. I expect you to spend this week resting up, drinking lots of water and getting plenty of sleep. So, no drinking during practice.”
The girls laughed.
“Are you excited?” I asked.
“Oh hell yeah!” Sharon-Ann cried out. Look, I was starting to get better with names! Finally.
The other players chorused their agreement, and I smiled, allowing myself, just once to make eye contact with Catya, a suggestive gaze that flickered with sexual energy.
This game was going to be fun — I could just feel it.
Chapter 21
Catya
You know what was hard?
Sleeping with a gorgeous man who you also really like, and who you’re pretty sure you want to be with, and then being absolutely unable to do anything about it besides make eyes at him when nobody’s looking.
And that was about how the rest of my week played out.
Practice was all about the upcoming game, and Simon and I were laser focused. I was glad we were committed to winning, but I also desperately wanted to fuck his brains out once more. My logical side prevailed, and there was no fucking.
Though I was emotionally hungry, I was at my physical peak. All the girls were, actually. We were in great shape for the game, and the mood at practice throughout the week was confident exuberance. Simon warned us not to get cocky, but his face betrayed that he shared a similar assuredness in our victory.
All that whining aside, the lack of opportunity for me to see Simon over the week just served to make me more stoked for the weekend. Surely we could sneak in some time then, right? We’d be staying in the same place, for once. I wouldn’t have to walk across campus to his place and risk getting caught. He couldn’t even come to my room, either, for that matter — men weren’t allowed inside a sorority house because of some ancient, ridiculous rules.
Plus, there was Grace. I’d told her about sleeping with Simon on Friday night, of that I was sure, and she hadn’t mentioned it at all. Of course, I was grateful for her discretion, but even when we were alone in our room, she didn’t bring it up. That was out of character for her. Grace would talk about anything and everything, but especially salacious gossip. And this was the gossip of the century.
I set my concerns aside, and concentrated on staying excited for the weekend. The possibilities were endless, and Simon featured prominently in each and every fantasy.
So while Grace and I were packing our suitcases across the room from one another, I reached into my drawers and sneakily pulled out a few sexy things that she’d persuaded me to buy. It made me fleetingly sad that I couldn’t tell her about my plans to use them.
Into the suitcase went a red bra and matching panties, a corset, garters, stockings — a whole get up. I threw all my training clothes atop the sexy underwear, lest anyway see the treasure trove and start asking questions.
Later that same day, we walked to the gym, bags in hand, and met the rest of the girls in front of where the bus was supposed to pick us up.
“Are you excited?” Tanya asked me as we greeted the gang.
“Of course,” I told her, but thought to myself, not for the reasons you’re thinking.
Rose piped up with, “We’re gonna, like, totally crush them.”
I smiled at her enthusiasm. This seemed like as good a time as any for a team cheer.
“Hey ladies,” I called out. The team turned around to face me, slightly confused, mostly intrigued. Once I had their attention, I said, “Who are we?”
They grinned and screamed, “ULA!”
“What do we do?”
“WIN!”
I did the call and response a couple of times until we were all jumping up and down, excited for the next few days, ready to get out on the field and own the competition.
It was at that moment Simon arrived, and looking around at our spirit, asked with amusement, “You aren’t drunk, are you?”
We laughed, and he shook his head, saying, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. It’s great to see you all fired up.”
Max offered, “Catya led us in a cheer.”
Simon turned to me and quietly said, “Oh, did you now?”
I grinned, and before I got a chance to reply, he announced, “All right, everybody, throw your bags in the below deck storage and then board the bu
s.”
They followed his orders promptly. Tacit obedience had become a much bigger thing after they’d all gotten their various silly pranks out of the way. I suspected that, because Simon had weathered them so well, everybody had gained more respect for him, which made me happy.
While they boarded the bus single file, Simon wrapped a hand around my upper arm, and I shivered. It was the most contact we’d had since the forest.
“Sit next to me,” he said under his breath.
I was more than happy to oblige. Once everyone else had found their seats on the bus — which conveniently was just the right size for the team — the only seat left was next to Simon. As a rule, people hate sitting next to the coach. I felt differently, for what might be obvious reasons. Girls threw me pitying looks, as though it must suck that I had to sit next to him. Little did they know.
We settled into the plush seats. ULA springs for fancy buses for game trips, and the girls immediately turned around to gab with one another, play music from tiny speakers and eat trail mix. Theoretically, per my instructions, they were supposed to be discussing strategies and ideas for the game tomorrow, but I didn’t really see that happening. Besides, I planned to be rather busy myself.
Because Simon and I were flush up against one another, our thighs and the tops of our arms touching.
“Are you excited about the game tomorrow?” he asked me loudly.
“I sure am,” I replied with equal volume and enthusiasm.
Simon smirked and asked, “Was that performance enough to throw everybody off our scent?”
“Honestly? I don’t care. I miss you.” I hoped the ache in my heart wasn’t tangible in my voice.
He sighed, and placed a hand on my thigh. “I missed you, too. I’m sorry it has to be like this.”
“It’s not your fault,” I reminded him, and slid my hand parallel to his own, right along his thigh — though I sneaked mine a little further, moving it from the top of his thigh down to the side, so that I was cupping the meat of his inner leg. Needless to say, I was inches from his dick.
“What are you doing?” he whispered.
“Oh, you know. Passing the time.”
Simon groaned softly. “Do you always have to live so dangerously?”
“Nope. Just with you,” I replied, truthful.
He shifted, and I could feel that his cock had already grown erect to my touch.
“Okay, okay,” he said. “At least wait until they’re more distracted, or sleeping.”
This wasn’t a bad bet. The girls always fell asleep on travel trip buses. It was like some kind of weird tradition, or hard-wiring that athletes have. Approximately four and half hours into a bus ride, they’d be asleep on one another’s shoulders, curled up like puppies.
While we waited, Simon and I talked, catching up on one another’s weeks, stealing furtive strokes when nobody was looking. We shared headphones, listening to one another’s music, occasionally humming along. To the outside world, it would’ve looked like a coach and a player. To us, it was almost the closest we’d come to a date.
For the record, I was right almost to the minute — it took four hours and forty-five minutes for the entire bus, minus the driver of course, to be fast asleep. When I finally looked back and found them conked out, I immediately turned back around to Simon, saying:
“Take off your sweatshirt.”
“Why?” he asked, confused. “I’m chilly. Unless you’re cold, in which case, I’ll toughen up.”
I chuckled. “I’m not cold, and you’re about to be very hot, if you catch my drift.”
He did, indeed, catch my drift, and Simon promptly whipped off his sweatshirt, revealing a thin blue T-shirt underneath that matched his eyes. It was ripped in a couple of spots, like it had been well-worn for years.
“You know,” I observed, “you can probably buy a new T-shirt now. ULA pays enough for you to hit Target.”
He jokingly swatted at me and said, “This T-shirt covers me up fine.”
“Well, except for these,” I replied, and poked my finger through one of the holes. “Though it does show your abs, so actually, keep the shirt.”
My finger was against his bare skin, and both our bodies tensed with the realization. We couldn’t wait any longer. I threw the sweatshirt over his lap, and removed my finger from the hole, then stuck it back underneath the shirt. I allowed it to glide down his inhumanly taut stomach, right to the first button on his jeans.
Simon’s breathing deepened as I undid the button and slowly, very slowly, pulled down the zipper. I could almost hear his cock twitching with desire, and I could absolutely hear the accompanying quiet moan.
“Shh,” I chided him. “Or do I need to get a ball gag?”
He closed his eyes and leaned back in the seat, trying his best to be subtle, perhaps even to pretend to be asleep, like the rest of the bus.
I slid my hand deeper inside his trousers until I felt the shaft of his hardened cock. My fingers wrapped around it and squeezed gently. His brows knitted together, and his lips pressed into a thin line, as though he was exerting great effort just to stay silent.
With extreme care, I pulled his dick from his dark green cotton briefs, and then out from his jeans, until it was exposed beneath the sweatshirt. Simon gripped the edges of his seat, trying to be calm.
“Do you like that?” I breathed.
“You know I fucking do,” he gasped out quietly.
His encouragement was tantalizing, and I began to run my hand up and down the length of his long, thick penis. The strokes were agonizingly slow, so slow that I thought I saw a bead of sweat drip down his hairline and into his brow.
I abandoned his shaft, and moved down to his balls, which I fondled like they were two marbles, rubbing them against one another in rhythmic circles. He stiffened and bucked beneath me, but I held firm to him.
My fingers had just moved back to his cock, and traveled up to its tip, when I heard a voice say:
“Catya?”
I dropped his cock at a very guilty speed. Simon’s eyes shot open.
“Don’t move,” I hissed at him, and then louder, to the voice behind me, “What’s up?”
It was Nora, standing slightly up in her seat, enough for her head to pop over the back of the one in front of her. “How long ‘til we get there?”
Oh, thank God. I’d thought somebody had seen us.
“About…” I began, and then checked my phone, “fifteen more minutes.”
“Okay, thanks!” she called, and sat back down.
I breathed a deep sigh of relief, and whispered to Simon, “Shit, that was close.”
“Yeah,” he replied, looking panicked. “Listen, you don’t have to, er, finish if you don’t want to—”
By way of reply, I took his member back into my palm, and resumed stroking it.
“We only have fifteen minutes left,” I said. “So let’s make them count.”
I began to languidly stroke his cock, and Simon shifted, restraining a moan. His hair tumbled into his eyes while his dick shivered in my hand. I varied my strokes for several minutes — tight and fast, hard and soft — then played with the tip of his cock, rounding his circumcised edges.
Turns out, I’d gotten so distracted with his pleasure and mine that I hadn’t realized we’d pulled to a stop in front of the hotel.
The bus ride was over. And I was still giving Simon a hand job.
“We’re here,” the driver announced over the speaker.
Simon looked up frantically and was about to pull my hand off his dick when I whispered, “Let me finish you.”
I wrapped my hand more tightly around him, and rubbed him vigorously.
“Oh shit,” he said under his breath.
Faster, faster, faster. Pushing him to the edge before anyone could see us.
The girls began packing up their bags behind us, and time wasn’t on our side.
The girls had just started to move into the aisles, preparing to disembark, when
I felt it. His muscles clenching, his cock forcing itself deeper through the hole my hand had formed.
“Fuck,” he hissed, his load shooting into my hand and splashing against the sweatshirt.
I just barely had time to yank my fingers away before Sophia, the first down the aisle, said, “Catya, aren’t you excited we’re here?”
I hid my sticky fingers beneath my pant leg, and nodded. “Very,” I replied.
The rest of the team filed off the bus, leaving just Simon and me.
“That was close,” he panted. “Way too close.”
“Wanna do it again later?”
He grinned. “You’ve got a dirty mind.”
We grabbed our things and followed the team into the lobby, where it was Simon’s job to check in with the front desk, make sure everything was in order, and then grab our keys. There were to be four girls to a room, two per bed, which isn’t comfortable but was also the norm.
He thanked the clerk and called us around so that he could distribute the keys. Once they were all passed out, he said:
“All right, everyone. You’ve got the rest of the day to yourself. I’d suggest lightly hitting the gym, doing some stretches, eating plenty of carbs, and then going to sleep at a reasonable hour. Sound good?”
Accustomed to this routine, everyone nodded and dispersed to their separate rooms. Simon, with a mere tilt of his chin, gestured for me to stay back.
“Here,” he whispered, and I felt something slip into my hand, which was still sticky from what we had been up to on the bus.
“What is it?”
He smiled, and replied, “My key card. Meet me in my room tonight.”
“Hmm. And what if I’m booked?”
He looked around the lobby, and then seeing that the coast was clear, he grabbed me by the small of the back and pulled me in closer, close enough to murmur in my ear, “Then cancel your plans. You’re coming with me. And coming for me.”
Chapter 22
Catya
I ended up rooming with Sharon-Ann, Riri and, as always, Grace. Somehow, we never failed to be put in a room together, which I didn’t mind.