Coach's Conquests Ch. 02

2

It didn't take long for the majority of those on board the bus to fall asleep. The hard-hitting game had taken its toll, and sleep was the perfect remedy at this point.

Bret Harris wasn't tired. Aside from the excitement of capturing his first victory at Lakeville, he was distracted by the allure of Monique Sellars, just a few rows behind him.

He wondered if she was asleep. He wondered if she had curled up with a player, perhaps the quarterback, in the dark quarters of the bus. He imagined her tongue in the mouth of one of the players. Then it became his mouth. His cock started to swell. Trying to take his mind off her and her short cheerleading skirt, he pulled out a pen/flashlight and began going over the statistics of the game. He jotted down notes on a yellow legal pad. "Simmons has to be patient on the sweep...read his blocks, then attack," the coach wrote. "Stay in bounds late in the game to keep the clock running...don't run out just to conserve your body...stay in bounds and take a hit for the team," he wrote.

Suddenly, a student was leaning over him, reading over his shoulder. It jolted him out of thinking about football and sweeps and blitzes. "Does it look as good on paper as it did out on the field?" the student asked. Bret Harris looked over, smiled, and replied, "Let's just say I'm happy with the outcome of tonight." Monique Sellars smiled back.

"What do all these numbers mean?" the5-foot-7, 118-pound cheerleader with brown hair asked. She was still wearing her cheerleading uniform. While the players had showered and changed into street clothes for the way home, the cheerleaders usually stayed in their uniforms. She had taken off her Lakeville Raider Cheerleading jacket, and she stood in the aisle next to Bret now, wearing her tight white sweater with black and silver trim and short white skirt with a black and silver hem. She wore white socks and white tennis shoes.

Before the coach could respond, she sat down next to him, making herself more comfortable on the seat by scooting closer to the coach. Bret, nervous just for a moment, sneaked a peak behind him and then took a quick look at the bus driver. "Don't worry, they're all asleep," Monique said, reading his mind. "And Benny?" She motioned toward the 300-pound bus driver, whose eyes remained fixated on the road. "His mind is only on one thing, Coach: getting home to watch his porn." Bret thought about the last comment Monique made and considered responding then decided to let it go with only an evil smile.

"Well," the coach said, returning to his statistics. "This number is yards we gained running the ball and this over here is passing yards. The problem is they don't add up to the total yards, which are listed over here." The cheerleader scooted even closer. "Let me take a look -- math is one of my finer qualities," she said, smiling. "Just one of many, I'm sure," the coach shot back. Monique gave his leg a pinch. Bret returned the favor, high on the thigh. Bret and Monique begin trying to add up figures with the pen light as their only source of illumination. Their legs brushed together, and Bret couldn't help but notice the smooth, sexy legs Monique possessed. Bret wore gray slick nylon-material pants, a white polo shirt and a black vest with block letters "Lakeville Football" above the left breast.

As Monique was adding up some numbers, she suddenly jotted down, "You can't add worth a s---." To which Bret grabbed the pen and replied in script, "It's hard to add when your legs are right here." At that, Monique smiled, Bret smiled and the small talk and addition of numbers continued. As their legs continued to touch, neither seemed eager to separate his pants from her legs. And as her skirt hiked higher and higher up her thighs, she didn't seem anxious to hide what was about to appear: a hint of her sexy, lacy white panties. After finally getting the numbers to add up to the correct total, Monique grabbed the yellow legal pad and wrote, "There, I did it for you. What do I get now?"

The pen changed hands, into Bret's, and he replied, "For adding up this mess, whatever you want."

"Hmmmm," she scribbled hurriedly, "ANYTHING I want?"

"Well...," he wrote, and then checked the back of the bus again, just to make sure no one had woken up. By this time, the senior had wrestled the pen away from the coach, throwing her chest -- and her 34c breasts -- into his shoulder for emphasis. "I like your handwriting," Monique wrote this time.

"I like your skirt," Bret wrote.

"I'm glad you do," Monique scribbled. "Anything else?"

"Lots," the coach wrote. "Where do I start?"

To Be Continued...