Anyone who thought Coach Ford was going to let the scratched heats slide is sorely mistaken.
Monday morning, a flyer appears on the bulletin board from the athletic director: “Tryouts for girls’ swim team alternates — tonight.”
I know exactly what this means. People are getting suspended for what they did.
And I love it.
I think of nothing else all damn day except to wonder about how badly he’s going to punish the team tonight. What’s he going to say? And how loud? The tingling, quivering and dampness in my panties is almost too much to bear until school ends at 3:15.
13
Weston
I see she wore her plaid uniform skirt today instead of khaki. And her nails are painted aqua blue.
The thought crosses my mind that I could quit my job right now, just for the chance to touch her. Just once.
14
Addie
By the time I don my swimsuit and get ready for practice, I am about out of my mind. I can hardly contain myself, wondering what is in store for practice today with half the team gone.
Coach Ford comes in hot to practice. His office door slams closed and he’s already on the pool deck. He gives us a loud, sharp whistle, then barks, “In the pool. Butterfly. One hundred. Now.“
One thi
ng is clear—he is pissed.
At first I think he’s warming us up but soon I realize he is flat out making us work. Hard. First butterflies, then the backstroke. And then breaststroke, followed by freestyle. And then just flip turns. “No! Shermer! You didn’t even kick off the wall! Come on!” He’s so mad he’s not even using the bullhorn.
So angry. So damn hot.
When we finally finish, he doesn’t even make us line up. In our exhaustion he lets us stay in the pool, leaning against the sides, spread apart from each other in a sloppy line, catching our breath.
And then the thrashing really begins.
“Some of our teammates thought they could protest my coaching style by scratching their heats on Sunday. Some of our teammates thought they could get away with it. But they are wrong. Let this be a lesson to the rest of you…”
Oh man, he is just getting started. I… I really like this.
“Antics like yesterday? Got us spanked. Anybody pull that again on my watch, and you’ll get cut from the team.”
Oh…hell yes, I think, as the heat grows between my legs and my nipples tighten. I am going to rub one out to this later. Sure wish I could record this on my phone.
He goes on. “The following swim team members have been suspended for two meets: Ridley, Hadley, Daphne…” He goes on to name all six players who participated in the scratch yesterday. The uproar is immediate, but he blows his whistle. A vein in his forehead that I’d never noticed before swells and throbs as he points his finger at us.
“You brought it on yourself, ladies! You mess with my team? I’m the one who can mess up your entire future. Try me. Go ahead and try to send your lawyer daddies after me. You know what? I don’t give a single shit who your families are. Do you know why? Because I got into this school on scholarship. I didn’t belong here, and kids like you made sure I knew that since day one. But I earned my way onto the swim team and you better believe I worked my ass off. When the coach said jump, I said ‘how high, sir?’ Do you ladies have any idea how utterly privileged you are…”
Holy shit.
He goes on for at least ten more minutes, and I think the water level of the pool shoots up a quarter inch as a result of how freaking wet this fiery speech is making me.
I inch my way away from the others and burrow into the corner of the pool.
Oh god. It’s so wrong, but I can’t handle it. I just have to…
My fingers push aside the elastic at the crotch of my swimsuit and brush my throbbing folds. My body reacts with a slight jerk. I delve in, massaging my swollen lips.