Page 19 of Coach Me

That’s when I heard the first scream.

I raised my head in confusion, and the second scream came as I shook the water from my face.

Then a third, a fourth, a fifth — a chorus of distinctly delighted shrieks.

I threw my chin over my shoulder to see what the fuck was going on. Oh shit. Directly behind me, clumped together and pointing, laughing and wolf-whistling, was the entire women’s soccer team.

“Nice ass, Coach!” one hollered.

“Yeah, keeping it real tight!” came another.

Scrambling, I grabbed my rally towel off the ledge and covered my dick. It was too late to try to shield my ass. They’d already gotten a full moon flash of that. I remained facing the wall, as the towel only barely covered my cock.

“What the bloody hell are you lot doing?” I roared.

An immediate reply from the back, “Pranking you, duh!”

I should’ve known. While I wanted to be filled with all-consuming rage, I too had pulled a similar prank in my time. Who was I to lambast them? Maybe I might have felt differently if I didn’t have such a fine body, but that wasn’t the case.

“All right, all right,” I said. “Did everybody get a good look? Are you all done now?”

“Oh yeah,” someone purred. “We got an excellent look, thank you very much.”

I pivoted just enough so that I could meet their faces while still keeping my dick to the wall, and whatever anger I had managed to muster melted away when I saw Catya standing in the middle of the pack, her eyes greedily tracing the lines of my body. Her tongue darted out and she subtly licked her lips.

Had she done that on purpose?

I wanted to turn all the way around, to ask if her she meant to lick those lips just for me, if I could touch her other — shit. This was absolutely, positively not the time to be having these thoughts. Not with the hot water still running, not with a tiny scrap of fabric over my dick. If I got a boner right now, it would all be over.

With a concerted effort, I tamped down my rising cock, and instead focused on being a coach.

I said, “All right, everyone. Very funny, ha-ha, good joke. I would’ve hoped for a bit more originality from you, but alas.”

“Aw, come on,” one cried. “It was a great prank!”

It took everything I had to laugh — not because I was embarrassed, but because I didn’t want them to hear the desperate edge in my voice, produced by my suddenly massive anxiety that I might get hard.

Playing it cool, I replied, “It was a decent prank, at best. And, because I’m awesome, I’ll let it slide just this once.”

The girls shouted and clapped, apparently happy that they weren’t in for a more elaborate talking-to.

Hmm. Seemed like I’d let them off too easy, so I added, “Oh, of course you are going to have to do midnight practice tomorrow.”

A groan. “Really?”

This time, I chuckled in earnest. “You think you’re gonna send me to the wrong locker room and catch me completely naked, and I wouldn’t even make you do some extra shitty drills? Ladies. That was so… so naïve of you.”

Another voice piped up, “Worth it. One. Hundred. Percent. Worth it.”

The rest of them echoed this sentiment.

“All right then,” I said. “I’ll see you at the stroke of midnight tomorrow, Cinderellas. Don’t be late. And try to carbo-load tomorrow — I’m gonna work you so hard your cleats grind down to nubs.”

I thought my words would be enough to get them out the door. Apparently not. By the rustling of twenty-odd bodies, I could hear that they remained firmly in place, possibly still checking out my ass like I was for sale.

“Oh, hold on,” a voice, more familiar than the rest, said. “Just one sec.”

From behind me came the echo of light feet pitter-pattering, and in moments, I could feel that someone was close at hand. Whereas the others were a good five meters away, this person was a meter, maybe less.

“Here you go,” it continued.

I turned enough to see that behind me stood Catya, tentatively holding out a fluffy white towel and trying very hard not to look closely at me.

“Sorry about the girls,” she whispered. “They were just being silly. Here’s a towel.”

In a tone low enough I hoped it wouldn’t reverberate off the bathroom tiles, I gestured to my rally towel and replied, “What, you don’t like the towel I’ve got?”

Her eyes went wide, and then directly to the outlines of my cock beneath the tiny, wet piece of terrycloth. She gulped.

“No,” she murmured back. “I love your towel.”

Her words swelled with meaning, much like my simultaneously swelling dick. In a sudden haste, I grabbed the towel from her outstretched hands, wrapping it around me and hoping that the much thicker fabric would conceal my now undeniable hard-on.

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