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Swim Coach (chapter 3)

Amy's feelings for Matt grow stronger.
My date with Richard, quite predictably, turned out to be a nightmare. We had started off at the local A&W which went well despite long periods of awkward silences. He then took me to the movies, choosing a horror film in an attempt to get me to cling to him. It actually worked until he started ‘clinging’ back and I wigged out and left the theatre after being groped one too many times. There were a few tears as I left the movie, but to his credit Richard caught up to me and calmed me down, apologizing for his groping and took me home.

My phone call to Beth was (rather sadly) early and full of disappointment on my end. She was supportive but I think she had known more about Richard than she had previously let on and saw the ending to the date as something of a forgone conclusion. We talked for quite some time that night, and eventually the conversation turned toward Matt.

“So you know Matt helped me after practice with my turns. He’s sooo cool about helping me out. He thinks I could do really well this year and thinks that the team might have a shot at winning the state title!” I said.

“Oh my gawd!” came Beth’s reply, “he is soooo fine. Its so great that he is our coach - I mean he isn’t at all tough or a hard-ass or anything but we still kick ass, you know. Plus when he’s sitting in his office its all I can do to not go in there and totally like ask him to rip my suit off!” as she giggled I cringed a bit at the thought that I was competing for his affections with my best friend before realizing that we weren’t competing and that neither of us could win this race.

“Ok... so you know how he was helping me with my turns? Well he was touching my neck, trying to show me how to tuck it or something, and I got this really weird feeling! It was like I went all rubbery in my legs and my head started to spin.” I confessed. “What do you think that was all about?”

More giggles from the phone line, “I think you got a bit juiced for him Amy, you know like when you touch yourself.”

“Touch myself?”

“uhhh yeah... touch yourself!”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Beth.”

“Amy, don’t you ever touch yourself? You know, masturbate?” asked Beth rather matter-of-factly. Beth’s parents had been west-coast hippies back in the day and a copy of “Our Bodies, Ourselves” was prominently displayed on her mother’s bookshelf.

“Ummm, no. I don’t. At least I don’t think I do. I mean I know what that means, I just never tried or really even know what to try.” My friendship with Beth was so deep that even a discussion as intimate as this one left no trace of embarrassment.

“Amy you gotta try it. Just let your fingers walk around down there and think about some guy you are hot for - like Matt!” laughter at what she thought was a joke. “You’ll find your way around and you may just like what you find.”

I laughed nervously and the call ended soon after that. As I got into bed that night so many things were racing through my head. The dreadful date with Richard, the thoughts and feelings I’d experienced with Matt, Beth’s admonition to start exploring my sexuality. I was really wired and found myself wide awake as midnight came around.

I was thinking about Matt and the way his touch had felt when I let my hand wander down, under the covers to the thin white cotton my my panties. I was picturing the way he looked as he stood there in front of me in his speedos as I slipped the terribly unsexy undies over my hips and kicked them off at the foot of the bed. I pushed my fingers through the soft, fine reddish hair that sparsely covered my mons but hid nothing and the tingles that I’d felt with Matt began to return. I spread my legs just a bit as my fingers ran over the folds of my sex. The feeling was so... amplified. I’d touched myself down there a thousand times but it had never felt like this! I pushed the sheets and blankets off with my feet and cool spring air drifted over my body.

I continued to let my fingers explore the unexplored. I spread my labia apart and felt the warm wet slickness that had been seeping into my vagina since I started thinking about Matt’s chest. My fingers soon discovered just how many interesting sensations they could generate as they moved nearer my clitoris. I felt my nipples grow almost painfully hard and instinctively moved one hand to my breast, felling the hard nub of skin under my palm. My clit was similarly hard and pushing forth from between the hairless, wet folds. My hands moved of their own accord across my body - as if my brain had largely lost control and was only privy to the sensations that were now flooding in to in from my pussy, breasts, and fingers. I became aware of a warm, quickly building pulse that seemed to begin deep inside of my virgin sex took me utterly by surprise in its competition with a million other new sensations. As my first orgasm approached, my hand cupped and mashed down on to my labia to find a soaking gush of warm, slippery, cum flowing from the nether reaches of my virginity. My head spun as though I’d run headfirst into the wall and my disorientation was almost as great as I cried out far more loudly than I’d have ever judged appropriate. (To this day my husband will often bury my face in a pillow when its ‘that’ time so as not to frighten the children or neighbors!)

In the darkness as I lay in utter confusion about what happened. My body was tingling all over and my head spun as moonlight illuminated a square on my bed that just about framed my torso. By breasts lay flat upon my chest, the small pink nipples breaking the smooth surface of by belly and chest like twin devil’s towers on the Wyoming prairie. My thighs came together, slick with my cum that soaked into the sheets and scented the air with my smell. I didn’t know what to think and was very confused by the fact that Matt’s image in my mind had driven the feelings I’d just experienced. As I drifted into a deep, dream-filled sleep the last thought I had was of Matt’s touch on me.

Thankfully Richard never asked me out again and never really took notice of me again though I did catch him and a bunch of seniors looking and laughing in my direction once soon after the date. I didn’t really mind as my opinion of him had been largely set in concrete and dumped in deepest part of Lake Michigan.

I spoke with Beth about what happened that night in the library during the next week. She sat across from me with a big smile on her face as she questioned me about it. She wasn’t really surprised when I confided that Matt’s image had been foremost on my mind that night. She told me again that he was hot but wasn’t nearly as cute as Mike, the guy she was now dating. As the afternoon wore away as we ‘researched’ our history papers in the library she confided to me that Mike and her had gotten to third base and that she had found the experience to be ‘totally awesome’. The prom was coming up and she was convinced that he was going to take her someplace nice afterwards for their first time. She was honestly glowing as she talked about her love and I felt both happy for her and jealous at the same time. My longing for Matt had only grown but his age and position as my coach seemed to be insurmountable barriers to the idea of us ever being together.

I think that Beth was confused by my feelings for Matt that she was gradually becoming more and more aware of. When we discussed this time later in our lives she told me that she was torn between wanting me to be happy and get what I wanted (or at least thought I wanted) and protecting me from being hurt, either by a socially unacceptable affair with Matt, or by not having a socially unacceptable affair with him.

During the next month I worked very hard during practices and ended up winning races in the first few meets of the season. During practice I made a point of avoiding Matt whenever possible. I’m sure he could tell that something was wrong though, because he caught me at least once or twice a week staring at him from across the pool or while he was sitting at his desk in the office. I’d look at him and remember his touch, then remember that night lying in my bed (a situation which I’d repeated several more times, once so loudly that my father knocked on the door asking me if I was ok!). He was quite distracting for me so I’d make every effort to not look which just seemed to make me want to look more often.

I’d gotten most of my coaching from Sally during that time but as the end of the season started to come closer and the significance of the meets became greater she kept suggesting I talk to Matt about some of the problems that had been creeping up for me. I balked and delayed until I lost a race by just a body length in the fifth meet of the season. I was really hurt by the loss and was sitting up high in the bleachers watching the meet through tear-filled eyes when Matt sat beside me.

“Hey kiddo” he said, looking out at the meet, “looks like superwoman ran into some kryptonite today. You doing ok?”

I didn’t feel like I was doing ok. I’d gotten so sure of myself and had won my last races by such large margins that I’d gotten too sure of myself, and this loss had hurt not just because I didn’t win, but because through it I realized that I’d grown a bit cocky and never had thought of myself as being that way. “I don’t know. Losing sucks, Matt.” I wiped my eyes free of tears. “I think I learned two things today though.”

“And what were those things Amy?”

“Well, I guess that I got too cocky and maybe slacked off a bit in the race. I’ve never really been good at anything... well not as good at anything as I am at swimming and I don’t really know what I’m doing.” I was still trying to look down at the meet and avoid meeting his eyes. I felt vulnerable after the loss and didn’t want to deal with the feelings that were sure to happen if I met his gaze.

“Hmmm. Yeah Amy. That is a hard one to handle. And all good swimmers go through it at some point and I guess that this is your time. I had to deal with it and its hard to be proud of yourself and self confident and not become cocky and slack off or show off when you are just wiping out the other swimmers like you’ve done.” He put his hand on my back as I sat there with my head down. “You know, I think it was good for you to lose today. You are a very intelligent young woman Amy and the fact that you are sitting up here hurt and a bit confused tells me that you’ll solve this one on your own. Probably already have. If you hadn’t lost you wouldn’t have learned this until maybe it was too late, like at the championships.” He scooted in closer and put his right arm behind my neck and pulled me in a bit closer to him - an utterly platonic gesture between a coach and a dejected athlete. A hug that was probably given a hundred times that afternoon in the naditorium between coaches and their athletes. “Just don’t relearn the lesson again, got it?”

His one-armed hug was so reassuring to me. I didn’t feel turned on by his touch like I had before, just warmed, strengthened, and cared for. In the space of a just a couple minutes he had said and done all the right things for me and it was almost as though I could feel my confidence wash back into me, though this time it lacked the sharp edge of arrogance that had made it so self-destructive.

“So what else did you learn today - that sitting back on your butt at the start is a really crap way of trying to win a race?”

The serious moment melted away - Matt’s social skills are probably the best I’ve ever observed. Laughing at his utterly true but jestfully-worded jab I slapped him playfully on his shoulder. “NO!!! I didn’t learn that! I guess you did though when you were checking out my butt?” I stuck out my tongue out at him, then kicked myself mentally as I did so for the unsophisticated quality of the act.

Matt’s reaction was, in hindsight, almost comical. He turned beet-red and quickly drew his arm back from my shoulders. He tried so stammer out a denial but it would have been apparent to anybody that he was flustered by the truth of the jokingly-made accusation. Of course his reaction wasn’t apparent to me in my naivete.

“No Coach, but I guess I’ve got to work on that this week, eh?” I replied still smiling at what I’d thought was nothing but a joke. I looked up at him, forgetting about the power of those blue eyes. “I think that I figured out that I ...” our eyes had locked together across two feet of chlorine-saturated, hot, humid air and I felt head swoon in almost exactly the same way it had when I’d had my first orgasm thinking about him. I felt naked in his gaze, felt like I wanted to be naked in his gaze, naked in his arms. Losing track of what I’d said and what I’d meant to say I tried not to stammer to a stop.

“I want you.”

What was really odd about saying that was that I didn’t realize what I’d said until I heard my words coming back through my ears. Now it was my turn to turn beet-red and stumble through an explanation. “I mean I want you to help me more often I mean. With my swimming... you know? Like my starts and turns and stuff.” I blurted out. Ugghhh I thought to myself thinking about how silly I was for this crush - how could this beautiful man possibly even notice a gangly, awkward, little girl with no boobs, no curves, and seemingly no intelligence?!

Matt sat back a bit and looked confused, the wheels in his head seeming to spin faster and faster. “Well of course I can help you out. I’ve noticed that you haven’t been coming to me lately for help, which is ok, but I was a bit worried that I’d done something wrong.” He was looking at me with a worried and serious expression on his face. “Is anything wrong Amy?”

I considered what to say. If we hadn’t been sitting on the edge of a crowded bleacher in the midst of a swim meet I might have told him that yes, something was wrong. That I loved him (or thought I did anyway) and wanted to touch him, to have him touch me, to laugh with him and hold his hand at the movies and eat burgers and soggy fries at the Greasy Cluck, and ... and ... and ... Lucky for both of us prudence finally kicked me (in the head - with a steel-toed boot probably to get through a rather thick skull) and I answered a bit more diplomatically. “No, Coach, nothings wrong. Not with you fer sure.”I smiled and sighed. “I guess I’m just going through one of those phases that my mom always talks about. And I’m a bit, errr, confused I guess. Its really not a problem I think. Just one of those situations where you want something you can’t have, you know?” I tilted my head to the side and turned to look at him.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.


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Comments(5)

Michael
Posted 04 Mar 2012 14:15
Reading 'Swim Coach' is like teenage dating. You may like her, you may even fall in love with her, you might even have sex with her... but in the end you will cherish every moment you have with her.
Jack_42
Posted 20 Feb 2012 02:07
As EM Forster would say we are all reading to see what happens next.

stephanie
Posted 25 Feb 2011 11:47
With each chapter we are given a little more information about the characters and enough titillation to move on to the next. Fine writing, a 5! xx S
Koolkat
Posted 21 Jan 2011 13:45
at the end of each part ... it keeps you wanting more!
cadeautje
Posted 13 Nov 2010 04:49
Nice story so far and your writing is very good!
 

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