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March 2020 Short Story: After Glory
🕑 Added 2020-03-19 02:01:00 +0000 UTCThe Winning Prompt for March was: A coach turns to unorthodox training methods in her quest to fix a struggling team
Disclaimer: Any resemblance to persons or organizations real or fictional is entirely coincidental. This is fiction.
I tried putting in a bit more spacing between paragraphs this time, because I felt it may make it easier to read. Let me know if it's hard on the eyes.
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Meryl Remus sat back in her chair, ready for the interview to start. She projected an earned air of relaxed confidence. Her outfit, a tailored black pantsuit, was accentuated by silver cuff links and a striped tie bearing the colors of her school, violet and yellow. She had plenty of hair, and kept it styled just the way she liked it.
Across from her, the interviewer, a curly brunette in a slightly baggy tan windbreaker, coughed gently. "Alright, Coach Remus, we can begin whenever you're ready."
"Please," Meryl gently nodded, "go ahead."
"Er, ma'am, let's start with what everyone wants to know. When you took the assistant coaching position last fall, opinions were mixed. People,"
"-yourself included." The coach interjected, jokingly.
"Ahem, yes, myself included," The interviewer flushed slightly, "weren't sure if your experience would translate to coaching. You couldn't possibly have foreseen the circumstances that saw you taking over as an interim head coach in midseason, but did you see yourself having this kind of success from the outset?"
"Well, Sharon, life is full of surprises, but I'm certainly no stranger to adversity on or off the court. I've had my moments, of course. Two pro titles isn't small stuff, for sure. What we did this season, though, that was special."
"Yes, did you know you're not only the first woman coach to win a men's championship in the sport, but the first to do so with the interim label?"
Meryl laughed mirthfully. "It certainly takes the pressure off me. I had to go through years of the media bashing me though my pro career. 'Her game won't age well.' 'She's a terrible teammate, a coach killer!' 'She's past her prime, it's all downhill from here.' 'She doesn't have...'" The coach gestured vaguely with her hands "Whatever *it* is. Took me a decade and back-to-back titles to silence the doubters." She crossed her legs. "This time, it didn't even take ten months!"
"Yes, it was no mean feat. Most people had written the team off for the season when they opened 4-13, and that was before the story about Mr. Horstman's misconduct accusations led to his resignation. Let me go back to that moment, when the team was rudderless and you took the helm," The interviewer pulled out a well-worn, yellow legal pad. She flipped past about half the pages. "You don't mind if I take a few notes to organize my thoughts, do you?"
"Not at all, Sharon. Take your time. But yes, I'll admit there were things that I had to correct. The instant it became clear that we didn't have a coach in the moment, I made a point of meeting with our athletic director, Jessie Gerhardt. He's a man who understands the business side of things, and I spent some time making a quick case to him. We had a very productive conversation, and before the media had time to serve us with a full headless chickens headline," the coach *snapped* her fingers, "I was captain of the ship."
"Fascinating," Sharon scribbled some things down on her notepad. "And what all did you talk about then?"
"Well," Meryl smiled, "We went over a little ball, and a lot of business."
...
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.........
Jessie Gerhardt was not happy to see Meryl Remus in his office. He had been reluctant enough to hire her in the first place, and he had enough on his plate right now doing triage with the media fallout from the Horstman story. What a week. He would have refused the meeting outright, but too many of the school's major boosters had insisted at length that an alum already on the coaching staff be given a fair shake. Regardless of his personal feelings, his position dictated that he smile and offer her some coffee. "Are you sure you wouldn't like anything to drink, Miss Remus?"
"I appreciate the offer. I'm not too thirsty at the moment, though, thank you."
"I see," he rubbed his chin. "Well, if you don't mind my asking, what brings you here today?"
"You know the team's in turmoil right now. I was thinking you might want to do your duty as program director and consider righting the ship, bringing some stability to the enterprise."
"I see where this is going," he leaned back. "And you thought you could be the head honcho."
She stood with a confident, tall posture, and fixed him with a stare, "I've been hooping for two decades and counting now, and I've got a great record connecting with players. I've also got some tactical ideas for how to make the best use of our current roster talent. For starters-"
Jesse held up his hand, "I just had to fire a coach. I'm not taking job interviews right now. Mr. Dougson is perfectly capable of keeping the team together."
"Dave Dougson is a perfect choice if you want everyone to feel good about themselves. And also to win two, maybe three more games for the rest of the season. The chaos we've been dealing with has set the team back, but this is a good group of guys."
"You think this team can win? Lady, they lost by 30 at home! To a junior college! This is almost as much of a joke as-" He bit his lip, stopping himself.
"As what, sir?" She raised an eyebrow. "I can finish that sentence for you - 'as hiring a woman to coach the men's team'. I know your game, Jessie. Men like you aren't hard to see through."
"Look, miss. There are people out there who may think you're gonna save this team. I just don't want you to think, not even for a moment," Mr. Gerhardt practically spat out that last word, "that I'm one of them."
Meryl sighed looking down at the man in his chair, "I suspected as much. Still, I have to say that that didn't take long. I'm prepared to change your mind."
"Hah! I'm prepared to throw you out of this office. And I think I'll do just that." He reached towards the buzzer on his desk, to call for security.
"With all due respect, *sir*, you're the one who deserves to be thrown out of this office. You know, along with that disgusting junk you keep in your lower left-hand drawer."
The AD's hand froze. "What? What do you..."
"Oh yes, Jessie, I know *all* about it. You've got a lot to answer for, just like Seb Horstman did. I'd be happy to make you answer for it now." She snorted, "but if you'd rather hold on to the little life you've built for yourself at others' expense, I'd be glad to let you appoint me interim head coach."
"This is ridiculous. I've been with this school for years. I've got a hundred people who will take my side over yours." He was visibly sweating, "If you think you can threaten me with vague- Don't come any closer!"
Meryl had began walking around his desk, drawing closer to his secret drawer. "Oh Jessie, it's so precious that you think you can stop me. Go ahead and call security. They'll see what I'm about to see."
His face grew red and contorted into a mask of rage, "You SLIMY-"
Before his hand made it all the way to her, her knee had made a concave dent in his gut. The AD went flying back across the room, landing on the floor with a bit of a thump. In seconds, Meryl's heel was on his balls.
"I could crush them right now, you know? Before they have time to get into any more trouble." There was no humor in her voice, but there was a good deal of genuine disgust.
"Please..." He was begging, fearful.
"Well, I might be able to please you, *sir*. If I can get what I want. Let me show you what I mean." Meryl kicked him in the chest again for emphasis before mounting him with her ass in his face. She unzipped his pants and pulled out his junk, then undid her own shirt buttons and unhooked her bra. Before long, that dick was tucked tightly between her breasts.
"Mmmfff!!" He thrashed around, arms and legs squirming to no avail.
She slid one tit up, another down, adjusting the force they exerted on his his shaft. "I know guys go for stuff like this. Especially horny turdbags like you."
"Mmbbhh...!" Jesse's attempts to get a word of protest in were going poorly. Her pants were muffling his voice along with his breathing.
She clutched his balls and gripped firmly. "Hehe, the air kinda tickles a little. Try harder, wimp." She let go, and started rolling her tits around in circles.
"MMmmmFFFFF!!" He tapped the floor, desperate for air while his cock throbbed for more.
"You want more? Okay, maybe just the tip." The tall woman swallowed the tip of his rod and tongued at his urethra.
"MMmmmffuuuMMMMNGGGG...!!!" He was close to climax, but the muffled word was about all he could manage.
Meryl let go of his dick at the last moment, letting the cum blast out onto the carpet in his office. A significant amount landed on her face. "Still not feeling thirsty."
She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and wiped her lips off, then thrust it into his open mouth. She used another to wipe her face, placing it alongside the first. Then she forced his jaw shut.
"Swallow." She spoke while staring into his eyes. He cried tears of frustration, but he was well past resisting her at this point.
Meryl stood up and turned away. "You can appoint me as the new coach tomorrow morning. I've got a team to lead, so I don't have any more time to waste with pond scum right now."
She reached for the doorknob, then paused for one second. Without turning around, "Oh yeah, you're gonna clean that floor up. Are we clear?"
"..."
"What was that?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"That's what I thought."
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.........
"And, at the end of the day, I think it was an easy decision for him." Meryl smiled knowingly.
Sharon nodded. "And once you got the job, you had practice that evening. Tell me how that went." She scribbled a few more notes as she spoke, glancing between her legal pad and the subject of her interview.
"Our guys had talent, real potential." She sighed. "But they were wasting a lot of it, and I was pretty up-front about that with them. You can't play for yourself in a team sport. Good ball is about finding something more important than yourself. Something you can devote yourself to. I let business go on as usual for the most part, but I started talking to guys afterwards, and-"
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Chris Backerd was tired. It was one thing to carry a team. The point guard had done that in high school with his friends, and hadn't minded then. But this was different. He had been recruited to come to a power school, to win. But they had been losing. A lot. His other teammates had different ideas about what "competitive spirit" meant. It usually meant showing off, or attempting to make a shot through three defenders that usually ended up producing a highlight for the other team. He had stopped even trying to pass, and that meant his shots had to be that much more on-target. He had just spent 3 hours in the gym, practicing shots from all over the floor. It had been an hour since the last guy had left. He was looking forward to getting home and falling down into bad.
"Damn, my ankle. Not doing me any favors today, are you buddy?" He grumbled to himself as he walked out of the shower.
He jumped when he saw Meryl standing there in the locker room, wearing a violet pantsuit with a black top underneath. The coach leaned against the wall. "You done? Already?"
He adjusted the towel around his waist, "Yeah, I get it, lights out. What do you want? It's late enough and I'm ready to conk out for the night."
She held out one hand to stop him, "Hold on, I'm not here to pick a fight." He tone shifted to something gentler. "You run outta gas in the fourth a lot, and stamina is one reason why. I used to know someone who gave massages to help with that, and they taught me how to give 'em. Feel like trying something new?"
He grunted, paused for a minute, then shrugged. "I practice because I like to have an edge. Try anything once, I guess."
"That's the spirit. Let's get right down to it." She gestured to a padded bench, one large enough to fit the team's taller players. "Go ahead and lie down, face down."
He got down flat on his chest, as instructed. "I hope this doesn't take too long. I'm already tired."
"It'll only be a half-hour or so. In fact, some people fall asleep during the massage, so nod off whenever ya' like."
The coach oiled up her hands and rubbed them together, then started to rub between his shoulder blades. She probed the area near his spine, feeling out where the tension was most evident. "I've noticed you're always the last one to leave practice. You work so hard. You deserve something for that."
"Save it..." His voice trailed off as he found her touch relaxing. Or maybe he was just way more tired than he realized.
"You play hard, you hone your skills, you watch film every night," she used her thumbs, shifting a muscle so that it fit more neatly in line with its companions, "Hard to ask for more from my side of things."
"Not like I do it for you..." He let himself slow down a little. "I just like to win."
"You think I don't, kiddo? You're good, but remember I was learning how to win the big one when you were still in diapers. There's a trick to it." She worked her way up his back, rubbing his neck, gently kneading out the tension. One push at a time.
"Mmm..." The massage already felt good enough. His responses were becoming. slurred.
She got off for a second, giving her hands another squirt of oil. Then she leaned over and got to work on his legs. As expected, they were bricks of tension. "You sure do run a lot."
"..."
"No need to respond. I'm just talkin' here. Lesson one is that - sometimes it pays to listen." She lifted his calves up to a 90-degree angle, rubbing four fingers around the backs in a circular motion. "You can just let my words soak through. I'm sure you'll pick enough of it up."
"...m."
She rubbed his thigh like she was pressing the spice into a massive rump roast. "You're the best player on the team, that much is clear. But it's a team sport, even the best ballers don't win games alone."
"..."
She rubbed the soles of his feet with powerful thumbs several times, letting his muscles decompress. "You can do better. You just need to do things the right way. I'm going to teach you what you need to know."
"...hn"
She eased off him for a moment. "Gonna need you to flip over, big guy."
"...mmmokay." Chris managed to roll halfway around with her arms guiding him. He now lay flat on his back.
She pressed her thumbs into his chest, massaging his abs vigorously. "You've sure got a package here. Must've worked hard on it."
"..."
Meryl slowly let her hands work upwards, pushing muscles into alignment around his chest area. "Oh, and just check out those amazing pecs."
"..."
"Yep, I think I know just what we need here." Her hands continued to circle around his chest. One of her fingers slightly grazed his left nipple.
"...hn." That got a small, but notable, snort out of him.
Meryl smiled knowingly. "People, you see, like attention. Especially hard workers." Her fingers brushed over his nipples again, lingering a moment longer this time.
"...nhg." He snorted a bit louder this time.
"As for me, well. I think hard workers deserve rewards." She held his nipples, rubbing them with her thumb and forefinger.
"Hn... Ah..." This was something he had never felt before, even during sex. Usually, girls didn't go for guy nipples. He vaguely wondered why not.
"You like this." It wasn't a question. "You're going to enjoy this, and you're going to keep being a hard worker."
"Hrn... Rrgh... OhhHH..." His muscles were limp, but he didn't want to be anywhere but here. He wanted this to keep right on going.
"Answer me." She stopped playing with his nipples for a moment. "Nod your head yes if you're going to be my good worker boy."
He was so lonely, so eager for that contact, that he nodded furiously without hardly a thought. "...yeSSS..."
"There's a good boy." She attacked his nipples with double the ferocity, using her fingernails to mix in the occasional sharp stab along with her refreshing rubs. "I'm gonna have fun with you."
"hNNN... Yyyuh..."
She kept her hands on his nipples, but used her teeth to bite and yank the towel off of his crotch. His junk swung upwards, and she took it deep from the get-go. "*SlurrRPP*!"
"HN, AH! OHHHH!" Blowjobs, he had had before. But not like this.
"*SSLlllurrrPP*!!"
"RRGH, ohhhYESS!!" He was riding a high of uncut physical pleasure. This was amazing! Too good to be real!
"*SCHLLLUURRRRPPPP*!!!"
"Ah, AH, AHH, CUMMINGGG!!!" He couldn't hold it, not one second longer. The damn burst.
A load of frothing hot cum gushed out from his rod, filling the inside the taller woman's mouth.
"*GULP*! ...*suck*...*glug*..." She swallowed most of the load in her first push, then handled the rest with practiced efficiency.
"Well, that'll just about do it," Meryl stood up as Chris lay there, dazed and buried under 250 pounds of afterglow, "You ever want something like this again, all you gotta do is work hard. And ask nicely."
The next day, Chris did in fact ask nicely.
One week later, he kissed the soles of her shoes for the privilege.
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Sharon leaned forward, "So you got the entire team into some new-age sports medicine and philosophy?"
"Well, the entire team got really into new-age sports medicine and philosophy. Not sure how much I had to do with it," the coach shrugged, "I will say Chris B was a big believer pretty much from the start, and he sort of talked guys into things and I just sealed the deal. Very loyal guy, dedicated, hard worker."
"So, what was practice like for your team?"
"Once the whole team came together, sort of, you know, found their purpose, everyone was locked in. Practice was about one thing, and one thing only." The taller woman held up her pointer finger.
"Winning, right?"
"Heheh," Meryl smirked, "You think?"
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The Fairhsmith University Basketball team was ready for practice on-time, which now meant being out on the court ten minutes early. They sat on their knees, with their backs straight. All twelve guys were wearing violet speedos with tiny yellow hearts on their asses (and nothing else).
The boys held this position for ten minutes, until footsteps they had been trained to recognize began to approach. As one, they bowed their heads to welcome coach Meryl Remus into the gym.
Meryl wore a black pantsuit with knee-length slacks and a no-frills yellow blouse unbuttoned at the top. The ensemble was largely unremarkable except for the shiny, black leather boots she wore. The boots ended just below her knees, and the modest 1-inch heels made a particular sound as they *clacked* on the hardwood floor. She walked deliberately down the row, passing close enough in front of each player that they could see the tips of these boots.
She turned around, taking one step in the other direction. The first guy in the row reached his head out and kissed her boot. "Thank you mistress." As she walked down the lineup one more time, eleven more followed suit.
"Good attitude, all of you. Now let's get started."
The practice itself was a pretty standard one. They ran sprints, practiced shooting, did one session of nipple masturbation, worked on long-distance ejaculation, and trained with completing passes in pressure situations. The practice finished with a ten-minute, 5-on-5 scrimmage between two teams, with the remaining two bench players serving as substitutes.
After the end of the game, she had her players line up and shake hands. She walked her way around the outer edges of the lineups, copping a feel here, pinching a nipple there. She stopped behind the team's tallest player.
"Coby."
The team's center, a 7-foot bundle of lithe muscle with a crew cut, froze.
"Turn around and look at me." Sure, she was taller than he was, but that wasn't the only reason why he was averting his eyes.
"Look me in the eyes, kiddo." He did as she instructed, now shaking. "I was counting fouls in that little scrimmage. Do you know how many you had?"
"Um, four, ma'am?"
She smiled wryly. "You're half right. Eight." She raised her left palm and reared back.
Tears were welling up in his eyes. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I really am!"
Her palm SLAPPED against his face. "I told you!" And did so again. "To keep!" And again. "Your cool!" And one last time. "Or at least learn to count when you lose it, dumbass!" She turned around and went to get her bag. "Now, strip."
"*sniffle*, I really, *sob* really am sorry." He slid his tight-fitting bottom down, kicking it off onto the floor.
Meryl came back holding a chastity belt. She reached up to gently pat him on the cheek. "I know, big guy. You know the rules, tho." She locked the belt around his waist, caging his member.
"Yes, ma'am." He looked forlorn, but soon jogged off towards the bleachers.
She turned to the rest of the team. "Chris, right hand. Amash, left hand. Harold, right foot. Mullard, left foot. Everyone else, circle up!"
The majority of the team formed a full circle, sliding their hands into their workout undies. The four she had pointed to took their respective inside the circle, close enough for her to reach. Meryl unzipped her boots.
She wrapped her right hand around Chris' penis. She stroked up and down with a none-too-gentle caress, letting her nails dig into flesh whenever she pleased. His tongue hung out, he slobbered in the face of pure pleasure.
She took her left hand and plunged her forefinger into Amash's anus. He yelped a little when she dove in, but that voice quickly became one of frothy joy. His prostate eagerly accepted her as she rubbed back and forth, pressing down on it.
Her naked right foot descended on Harold's cock. Her toes wriggled slightly as she worked them up and down, gently tickling his foreskin at the top. Just as he was getting used to that, she put some actual weight into it. "OgH!!"
She kept the sock on her left foot and shoved it into Mullard's face. She showered every day, but this particular sock had been worn for about a week and hadn't been washed once in that time. Perfect for the guy she knew was addicted to her smell. He inhaled like it was a thousand roses in spring, eagerly, desperately savoring every bit of her scent.
This continued for several minutes, with the coach easing off on her players several times to keep them on the edge. They moaned, squeaked, and squealed like pigs as they leaned towards her, pleading for more. She didn't seem inclined to grant an early reprieve.
*SPLURRT*! The first player on the outside lost his control, shooting a load of cum onto his coach and mistress.
"Yeah! That's what I'm talkin' about! Get it going, y'all!" Meryl gave the first to go an approving glance.
*SPLURRT*! Another player lost his spunk, though this arc fell a little short of the circle's center.
She frowned, "Gotta try harder, Smith. You're normally so good at chucking 'em up from deep." He looked down with shame, exhausted.
*SPLURRT*! *SPLURRT*! This time, it was two guys at once.
"Mmm, yeah, that's teamwork. Good boys, both of you!" They collapsed with immense satisfaction, dopey smiles on their faces.
*SPLURRT*! *SPLURRT*! *SPLURRT*! The last three players in the circle shot off together, tracing a trio of white lines that met at the center. The coach's bright yellow blouse was starting to look a considerably cream-colored.
"It's about time. NOW, boys!" Meryl's command was accompanied by a pair of heavy stomps and an extra-fierce curl of her fingers. Including the three up Amash's ass.
*SPLURRT*! *SPLURRT*! *SPLURRT*! *SPLURRT*! The arcs of pale fluid painted an X in the air for a full second before they began to ebb.
...While the players were on their knees, gasping for breath. Meryl scooped some cum off the collar of her blouse with her finger. She held it up so everyone could see, then brought it to her lips. She licked it clean, showing plenty of tongue. "Okay, boys, let's hit the showers!"
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Sharon flipped through her notepad, then stowed it away in her bag. "I think that'll just about do it. Thank you, ma'am, it's been a pleasure."
"Pleasure's all mine. Call me if you'd like to do this again," The former player stood and extended her hand.
Sharon returned with a firm shake. "I would, but you seem like you're pretty focused on the team. Would hate to take away from the time those fellas are enjoying with their coach."
"Fair point. I'm proud of my boys. Looking forward to taking this group as far as they can go." Meryl licked her lips. "We're gonna have a busy offseason."
~END~
