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slut-problems:

Coach told me to meet him at the gym early before class. It was 6am when I arrived in my workout gear. I had chosen a cute, little tennis skirt in white, a hot pink sports bra and pink and white over-the-knee socks. I knew that my coach was getting serious about me. He wanted to turn me into a premiere tennis player and I was ready. I had worked hard to get into his good graces, knowing that he could only choose one girl to represent our college in the upcoming tournament. I wanted to be that girl. That’s why I was on time and ready to work when I got there.

“Mona, over here,” he called with a smile. I walked over to him and saw that we were alone.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

“This is a special weight training sessions just for you. I want you ready for the tournament,” he told me.

“Does that mean I’m the one that’s going!” I screamed with excitement, jumping up and down with joy.

“Not so fast, Mona. Let’s see how your strength training goes today. I have a special workout planned.”

“Okay, I’m ready. Should I get on the treadmill and warm up?” I suggested.

“Sure,” he said and so I did my warm up while he checked things off of a list on his clipboard and prepared the equipment for my weight training. When my treadmill session was over I began my stretching to loosen my muscles before I began to lift. I was pumped up and ready to show Coach that I was the girl he wanted to send to the tournament.

“Mona, come on over here,” he commanded in his “coach voice” and I complied.

“Are you wearing panties under that skirt?” he asked, and I thought that was an odd question.

“Yes?” I replied, questioningly.

“Take them off,” he said.

“What?”

“Take them off?”

“Why?”

“Do you want this or not?” he snarled at me, and I could see that Coach was serious. He wanted to fuck me. He was just like every other man in the world. I hated him a bit in that moment, but at the same time, this was my dream. This was what I had wanted since I was old enough to hold a tennis racket. I had to get to my dream.

“Yes,” I said firmly, more for myself than for him. I rolled my panties off of my legs and immediately his hand moved under my skirt and his fingers wiggled into my pussy. His hands were cold and intrusive but I let him stab me with his fingers and plant a sloppy kiss on my mouth. I would do this to win. I had to win. I was a winner. Winners didn’t quit. I wouldn’t quit.

“Mona, you are such a good girl,” he said. We will start with dead lifts today, he said putting a curling bar with twenty pounds on each side on the floor for me. He moved behind me and I heard the sound of his pants unzip and next thing I knew I was doing lifts for coach while his cock pushed into my pussy. I held onto the bar, bending at the waist.

“Use your lower back and your legs, Mona,” he reminded me. While I did my reps he continued to fuck me from behind, his cock moving in and out of me slowly. He was moaning as I bent over again. When I popped back up his cock went deeper into me.

“Okay, take a break, but grab your ankles,” he told me and I did as he asked, grabbing my ankles and giving him full access to my pussy. It was strange that this was happening. I had never pegged Coach as a molester.

“Let’s try bench press,” he said, laying me back on a bench and adding forty pounds on each side. I may have been a small girl, but I could life some weights. I grabbed the bar and did ten reps, then put it back. I did 100 crunches on the bench for Coach and then I let him spread my legs again. This time he licked my pussy for me and he made me cum with his tongue. I was screaming loudly when I realized I was liking this. I loved the individual attention.

“Another rep now,” he commanded and I did as he asked. He fingered and licked my pussy between reps until he told me to get up and move to the pull-up bar.

“Pull-ups,” he said and I let out a groan of disdain. I hated pull-ups. “Take off your bra,” he told me.

“Why?”

“I want to see your tits, that’s why,” he said. I tool it off and he helped me up to the bar. I was short and it was hard to reach. I’d gotten pretty good at pull-ups over the years with him and I easily did ten before he let me take a break. He helped me back up to the bar and then he grabbed my hips.

“Give me your pussy, Mona,” he ordered.

“Okay,” I said and I let him grab me by the hips. His hard cock was ready and he pushed it into me. I held onto the bar and clung to it for dear life as coach smashed into my pussy with his big, fat coach dick. My arms were burning as he fucked me, but when I started to cum I forgot all about the pain. All I could do was hold on and cum my ass off, screaming for Coach they way I’m sure he wanted to hear.

“Mona! Jesus. Your pussy is so perfect,” he cried out as he ejaculated deep into my pussy. He pulled his cock from me, and I let go of the bar and landed on my feet. My arms were burning from that fuck and honestly, it had been a good workout.

“You still need to do arm curls and maybe even some lat pulls,” he said, as if nothing had happened. My pussy was leaking his cum as he led me to the free weights to do arm curls. But before I could sit on the bench, coach had me in his arms. He kissed me deeply.

“You’re such a good girl, Mona. If you let me train you and fuck you I promise you, you’ll be the one to go to the big tournament. Would you like that?”

“Yes, Coach!” I cried. “I’d love that. I’ll do anything to go.”

“Anything?” he asked, his mouth curled into a wicked smile.

“Yes, anything!” I begged him. I had no idea that he was just playing me. He made me lick most of the other girls’ pussies from the team while he fucked them. He made me lick their pussy juices off of his cock, and he fucked me when he felt like it, sometimes even during practice while the other girls were running. He would take me to his office while the assistant coaches ran practice. He would use my body, fucking my holes however he wanted to. I let him do it, thinking that I would be the chosen one for the tournament.

It turns out I did it all for nothing. He chose Stephanie Miller to go to the tournament instead of me, and when I asked him why he told me she was better than me at tennis, but that I was better at fucking. That fucking bastard.