Coach's Daughter

Lord, the way he moves is so fluid. A little bit cocky, but focused.

He lifts his T-shirt to wipe sweat from his brow, briefly revealing that gloriously chiseled stomach and I barely trap a moan, squeezing my legs together.

I need him inside of me.

Now.

He told me to think of us having sex while he practiced. So I would be ready for him as soon as the buzzer sounds. And he really didn’t need to give me those instructions, because I can’t control the moving images in my head. Can’t stop the breath sawing in and out of my lungs, the nipples turning to hard, little points inside the thin, blue material of my tank top.

The orange juice I drank this morning means I have to pee now, but I can’t make myself stand. My legs are too wobbly and I’m so wet, I’m worried if I uncross my legs and get up from the seat, moisture will be clinging to the insides of my thighs.

I’m so absorbed by the sight of Eric’s thick calves, his flexing arms, the sexy line of concentration between his brows, that I almost jump out of my skin when a buzzer goes off, signaling the end of practice.

I’m surprised when Eric comes toward me immediately, stripping off his T-shirt and using it to dry the sweat from his skin. Tossing it away in favor of gripping my elbow and pulling me from the seat. Quickly, he hustles me toward the players’ tunnel and down the long, cinderblock hallway, turning right instead of left at the end. Taking me in the opposite direction of the locker room. He opens one door, looks inside and slams it shut with a growl.

Thankfully, he seems to find what he wants behind the second door he opens, because suddenly I’m being pulled inside, crowded up against the door by Eric’s huge, sweaty body, his hands yanking up my skirt without a moment’s hesitation. Without permission. Only confidence. Possessiveness. And I love it.

I love it when he spins me around to face the door and rips my panties off in an aggressive fist, sinking down to his knees behind me. My legs almost give out when he licks me there, his tongue traveling over the pucker between my cheeks, pressing his stiff tongue there and flexing it, jiggling, until I’m gasping into the surface of the door, back arched, offering him my backside for more of the same treatment. And he gives it to me, his tongue relentless on that unbreached entrance while his fingers find their way around my hip to the front of my body. To my sex, his middle and ring finger slipping through my folds, tantalizing that aching bud slowly, firmly, setting off explosions of unimaginable lust in my lower body.

“Eric,” I gasp, no idea what I’m asking for.

Do I want him to keep going so I can climax this way?

And I will—I’m only seconds away.

Or do I want him inside of me?

Yes.

As soon as I have the thought, I become almost blind with eagerness. I make a whimpering sound in my throat and Eric correctly interprets what it means. His tongue leaves me along with his fingers, my legs almost collapsing from the loss, but then he’s standing behind me, shoving down his shorts with a growl and plowing his big smooth shaft into me, the force of his entrance slamming me up against the door.

“Oh my God,” I scream through my teeth.

“Jesus Christ!” He punches the door above my head, thrusts me up onto my toes and flattens me, rattling the door in its frame. “What am I going to do with this tight, tempting little pussy, huh? Should I fuck it?”

“Yes,” I sob, clawing at the door. “Yes!”

He wraps a sweaty forearm around my hips and punches upward several times, our flesh smacking together, his teeth bared against my ear. “Sitting on the sidelines flashing me that wet cunt. Making me insane. You’re lucky I didn’t put my cock in your mouth, right there in front of your father. Would you have sucked your new Daddy in front of your old one, angel?”

I’m seeing stars. Can’t form words to save my life.

He’s taking me roughly, angrily, and it feels so good, I’m simultaneously begging for the orgasm, while wanting to stave it off as long as possible. To let this delicious, pounding torture continue. The fact that I have a full bladder is somehow heightening the pleasure of his hard sex inside of me, the added weight pushing down on my erogenous zones, the pressure perfect. Blissful. So incredible I find myself grinding my hips back to meet his drives, doubling the impact, setting off sparks of light behind my eyes. “Harder, harder, please.”

Eric’s erection leaves me and I’m spun around again, lifted against the door and entered a second time with a triumphant grunt. My legs circle his hips haphazardly, trying to find purchase when he’s wailing on me, taking me so hard, the door bangs loudly with every surge of those chiseled hips.