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The coach and Tamica spent Saturday night at the cabin and returned to Lakeville Sunday. In an effort to make sure no one suspected a thing, Tamica left more than a couple hours before Bret.
He was the hoping that come Monday morning, she would act like Monique had acted a couple weeks earlier: as if nothing had happened over the weekend. He was right. Tamica was the model student, even toning down her outfits to a point. Of course, it was getting to be fall, and the short skirts and tank tops wouldn’t cut it in late September.
The next week of practice and school went well. Monique continued to flirt, and the pair even stole a kiss outside the locker room after practice one night. Monique tried to dart her tongue in and out of the coach’s mouth, but he wasn’t risking anything. He promised her a phone call — and delivered, bringing her to an intense orgasm over the phone. All the while she begged for his body, his cock, his lips. He promised her it would happen soon.
Tamica flirted some too, but not as much as Monique. Bret wondered if the alcohol had played a big role in him getting into her bikini. He went as far to ask one night on the phone, and she assured him it didn’t have much of an effect. She wanted him badly that Saturday, and she knew he wanted her, too. They talked about renewing acquaintances.
Bret was careful not to set any dates with either. The stunning blonde from Valley Falls, Pamela George, occupied his mind for the most part that week. He couldn’t wait until Saturday’s football game with the rival school. The teams met twice each year — townsfolk said it had been that way for years. In the 50s, they only played once, and for several years in a row, the losers complained of cheating, either by the players, coaches or officials. In 1959, the schools agreed to play twice, to put an end to any thought as to who was the better team. And since 1959, the winner of the first game of the year had also won the second game all but four times. And wouldn’t you know it, during those four seasons, townspeople lobbied for a third game to break the tie of the season series.
That’s when the state high school association intervened, making a rule that no two schools could play each antep escort other more than twice a year unless the third time was in the playoffs. One of the games each year would be designated a conference game, the other non-conference. And it was up to the conference commissioner to determine that. And so, in 1960, 1964, 1969 and 1984, Lakeville and Valley Falls had split the two football games. In all the other years, one team or the other had won both contests. They had never met in the playoffs.
This season, Saturday’s game was designated as the non-conference game. The conference game, the game that mattered in the standings, would be the second-to-last game of the year. So while Saturday’s game didn’t mean much in the conference race, it meant everything to the towns of Lakeville and Valley Falls.
They expected a packed house at Lakeville’s football field, with most of the folks walking the sidelines since the small set of bleachers on either side only held 100 people apiece.
While getting Monique off on the phone, Bret imagined he was fucking Pamela, his cock in her tight pussy, then between her luscious tits and finally in her mouth between her gorgeous lips. He even went as far as to look up the name George in the Valley Falls phone book. He found three listings, but decided against calling. He imagined the conversation.
“Um, yes, Mrs. George, this is the coach of Lakeville and I met your daughter at a kegger last weekend and I thought she was hot and I kinda wanted to fuck her and so I’m wondering if she’s home so we can talk and plan when to fuck this weekend.”
Bret put the phone book away.
The game would be played on Saturday as part of a special high school fundraiser Lakeville had each year. They called it Beach/Car Wash Day. The car wash would take place in the morning prior to the game and there would be a barbecue after the game on the field. Lakeville tried to hold some type of fundraiser whenever Valley Falls came to town since they knew the game would draw a lot of people.
Saturday dawned bright and sunny in Lakeville, and the car wash started at 10 a.m. in the school parking lot. It would go right up until game time. Bret arrived at the school early that day, stopping to park his Jeep in the parking lot. There, Monique, Renee’ and the other cheerleaders would wash it inside and out. He would probably give them $50.
The weather remained warm, and by noon, the shorts, T-shirts and tank tops had given way mainly to shorts and bikini tops. Monique, however, had gone all out. She had stripped down to a black and white bikini. Bret managed one look at her from the school window just before he readied himself for the game. He made a mental note that he’d have to get that girl and that bikini alone sometime soon.
When game time approached and cars were still lined up to be washed, the cheerleaders decided to hold part two of the car wash after the game. While the cheerleaders couldn’t figure out why the car wash was so popular, Bret knew. It was the bikinis. They should have a fundraiser like this every week, he thought, his cock growing.
Out on the field before the game, Bret remembered why he became a coach. The teams went through warmups with precision, the band played, parents visited, signs were hung on light poles and the scoreboard ticked down to 0:00. And there were cheerleaders. Oh yes, the cheerleaders.
Pamela George had gone all out, making herself up as only the gorgeous Valley Falls senior could. Her blonde hair was tied back in a pony tail, her lipstick and makeup were perfect, her legs tan, her skirt short, her top tight. It was a button down uniform, and the coach took his mind off the strategy of the game for just a second to imagine the uniform unbuttoned. It was white with blue and yellow trim. She was hot; he was hard. Bret had had only a split second to acknowledge Pamela, and she acknowledged him back with a sexy smile. And then the scoreboard siren sounded, letting the teams know it was time to play.
The game, as usual between these two teams, was a battle. Neither team could move the ball; neither team scored in the first half.
The speech at halftime wasn’t pretty. The coach yelled at his players, getting on them for their lack of heart rather than their lack of ability. How could they not be ready to play this game? Wasn’t this Valley Falls? Wasn’t this their rival? He thought of the Valley Falls quarterback, the guy he could’ve gotten kicked off the team for drinking at the kegger at the lake near the Gilbert Place.
Without him, surely Valley Falls didn’t have a chance. He was also a linebacker on defense and had made some spectacular plays in the first half. Offensively, he’d been good enough to lead some long drives and keep the ball out of the hands of the potent Lakeville offense.
The result? 0-0. Despite the tie score and the intensity of the game, the coach’s mind kept going back to the sexy blonde cheerleader on the other side of the field. Had the coach busted the QB, surely she’d have been busted too. And he certainly didn’t want that.
The defenses remained in control throughout the second half until the turning point late in the game. Backed up on his own 5-yard-line, the Valley Falls quarterback threw an interception that was returned to the 1. Lakeville scored on the next play to go up 6-0. When Valley Falls couldn’t move the ball on the next drive, Lakeville took over and ran out the clock. The Raiders had prevailed 6-0. They were 3-0. Most importantly, they held the edge over their Prairie County League rivals, Valley Falls.
As the players lined up single file to go through the line after the game to shake hands, Bret got in line as well, at the end. The coaches always did that. He shook hands with all the Valley Falls players, including the quarterback.
“Nice game,” the coach said, to which the player replied, “thanks. And thanks for the other thing, too.” Bret knew what he meant. The quarterback was happy not be busted.
As the coach walked off the field victoriously, Pamela George caught up with him from behind. “You got lucky this time,” she chided, smiling her sexy smile, her breasts begging to be let out of the tight cheerleading top. “Next time, you’re ours.”
“We’ll see, I guess,” said the coach, not wanting to fuel the fire of the rivalry.
“See you at the car wash,” she said, “I’m staying the night with Renee’ and helping out this afternoon.”
“Great,” the coach said, making the understatement of the year, “see you later then.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will,” she said sexily. “I’m helping wash your Jeep. Maybe I’ll leave you a present under the seat.” Bret could only imagine what that might be.
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