February 17th and 18th, 2006

The Public school system is a curious beast. If a teacher is employed by a school district, and that district discovers that said teacher possesses some skill that can be exploited—then, exploited it will be. “You were a cheerleader your sophomore year in high school? Great! You’re our new cheerleader coach.” “You were in a play in eighth grade? Want to be the drama club sponsor?” “You took two years of dance when you were nine and ten years old? Congratulations, you’re our new dance team sponsor.” Almost everyone gets an extra job. Most are not really qualified to perform those jobs. But, school just wouldn’t be school without all those important extracurricular activities.

Mitch happened to be a swimmer in high school. He lived in a very small community. Mitch’s school had neither a pool, nor a swim team. Correction, it had a swim team—and the swim team consisted of one individual—Mitch.

The town was close enough to a nearby, much larger community that did have a pool. Mitch had started swimming competitively with their Age Group club (comparable to “little league” in other sports) when he was in the eighth grade. The next year, he started competing with their high school team when they attended swim meets. He represented his own school, but merely traveled with them when they went to various competitions around the state.

He was not training for the Olympics or trying to set any world records. Nor was he a state champion or even a second or third-place finisher. He was merely a talented swimmer, who truly enjoyed it.

Other than recreational swimming, Mitch hadn’t even thought about the sport since his last swim meet during his senior year. Like most high school athletes, as soon as his high school career was over, he hung up his speedo and goggles and never looked back. That is, he had not thought much about swimming until one day in the spring of 2005.

In May of that year, Mitch was having a casual conversation with his building’s principal. At some point during that conversation, Mitch happened to mention being a swimmer in high school. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the principal’s eyebrows raised and Mitch knew he had said something wrong.

“A swimmer, huh?” the principal asked.

“That’s right,” Mitch replied with hesitation.

“Coach Hicks just told me the other day that he’s leaving at the end of the year,” the principal continued. “How’d you like to be the new swim coach?”

Mitch’s mind whirled. That was a big question to be asked out of nowhere. He told the principal he needed a day or two to consider it. Ultimately, he decided that he had only been at the school for a couple of years—meaning they could still get rid of him for pretty much any reason if they really wanted to. So, he accepted his fate, and the coaching position.

Mitch’s first year as swim coach had been quite daunting. There had been numerous headaches. First, he had to get his lifeguard certification. He also discovered that some people who join the swim team barely even know how to swim. With at least two girls, he virtually had to teach them every aspect of swimming (to his surprise, they both continued to make a lot of progress throughout the year). There were all kinds of forms that had to be filled out, paperwork that had to be done, buses that had to be scheduled for the away trips, fundraisers, and on and on.

It hadn’t been all bad though. Since he was the swim coach, he had unrestricted access to the school pool. He’d spent many evenings swimming laps after practice. He’d lost quite a bit of the weight he’d put on since high school and he could see a noticeable difference in his upper body physique.

So, there he was. Mitch and his team had finally made it to the state swim meet—meaning that he had made it through his first season as the head swim coach. Only four of his boys had qualified for the state meet, so he had driven them in one of the school’s Suburbans.

As they entered the enormous athletic complex, Mitch smelled the chlorine instantly. The aroma of chlorine always had an invigorating effect on him. As soon as he sniffed it in the air, adrenaline started pumping through his body, he just felt more awake—more alive.

“Let’s get fired up, guys,” he said to his four swimmers, “today’s your day. This is what you’ve been working towards all season.” He helped his boys find the locker room and told them he would meet them by the pool.

Thirty minutes later, he and the boys had found the correct warmup lane and Mitch was lost in thought as his swimmers took their practice laps. There were dozens of other swimmers in the pool and the rhythmic sound of hundreds of arms stroking through the water nearly mesmerized him.

He hadn’t been in this facility since February of his senior year. He remembered that day. He’d made the finals in the fifty-yard freestyle—his best event. He’d finished seventh, meaning he’d only beaten one person to the wall. His coach had reminded him that this meant he was still the seventh fastest swimmer in the state, but it had still felt like a loss to Mitch.

“Hey there, you look familiar!” a friendly female voice said just to his right, snapping him out of his memories.

Mitch turned towards the speaker. He knew he recognized the voice, but he had not heard it in many years. His eyes searched and then he found her. “Gayla!” he shouted in greeting. He burst into a huge grin. “I can’t believe it’s you! What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I’m the girls’ swim coach at Woolfield now,” she explained. “I’m just here with our six girls,” she pointed towards the fifth lane, indicating where her girls were warming up. “A better question might be, what are you doing here?”

Mitch shrugged and explained. “The old coach retired at the end of last year and I stupidly mentioned to the principal that I used to be a swimmer—so, here I am.”

“Got any good swimmers?” Gayla asked politely.

“A few,” Mitch acknowledged. “One is swimming the butterfly today, another the breaststroke, and we’ve got a pretty fast freestyler too. The fourth is just here for their relay.”

They chatted for a few more minutes, basically just making small talk. Then, what seemed like too soon for Mitch, the whistle blew, signaling everyone should be out of the pool. He said goodbye to Gayla and they went their separate ways, each corralling their own group of swimmers.

As she walked away, Mitch couldn’t help but glance at Gayla’s ass. Yep, she’s still a babe, Mitch thought to himself.

Mitch had known Gayla since the summer before his eighth-grade year in 1990. His parents had encouraged him to start swimming with the Age Group swim club that summer. Gayla was the assistant swim coach. At the time, she’d been right around thirty years old, and her oldest daughter, eight-year-old Meagan, was also a swimmer.

Gayla had a waifish figure, yet, not too thin that it detracted from her appearance. In truth, all the male swimmers had a thing for her. Many summer practices had been spent taking peeks at her legs or her bare shoulders. She also had a warm, cheery personality that brightened any day.

Mitch and Gayla knew each other throughout his high school career. They always got along really well together and, by the time Mitch was a senior, their banter before and after practice could have been described as one step shy of flirtatious. Of course, since high school, he had completely lost track of her and she rarely crossed his mind.

“Hey coach,” Mitch heard one of his swimmers say.

He tore his eyes away from Gayla’s departing posterior and forced himself to focus his attention on the task at hand. “Let’s go find a spot to camp out, it’ll be a while before your events.”

The first day of the meet went off without a hitch. All three of his individual swimmers qualified to swim the next day, and the relay did as well. Mitch was very proud of his boys and took them out to dinner that evening. They ate a good meal and had fun joking with each other. Mitch realized this was one of the reasons he had become a teacher. It was one of the rare moments when he’d been able to spend quality time with these kids and really get to know them. They had a blast.

After dinner, the small group found their hotel and checked in. The school had paid for three rooms, with two boys a piece in two of the rooms, while Mitch had a room for himself. They made their way to the hotel’s third floor and Mitch helped his boys locate their rooms. His own room was down the hall. He opened the door, entered the room, and collapsed on the bed. Until that exact moment, he hadn’t realized just how long of a day it had been. They’d left home at six o’clock that morning and he felt like he hadn’t stopped to breathe since then. He checked the small alarm clock next to the bed. It was now nine o’clock.

Mitch took off his shoes, untucked, and then unbuttoned his long-sleeve button-up shirt. It was the type of shirt he always wore to any school-related function, even coaching. He just couldn’t bring himself to wear a “coaches polo”.

He turned on the television and tried to relax a bit, flipping channels as rapidly as he could. He stretched out, trying to get a kink out of his back. He tried to find a comfortable spot, piling pillows up behind him and leaning against the headboard in a reclining position. After about thirty minutes, he threw the television remote onto the bed in frustration. Despite his exhaustion from the day, he was restless. He needed to get up. He needed to move. He needed to go somewhere. He was thirsty.

He decided to walk down to the lobby. He’d noticed a pop machine down there. If nothing else, it gave him something to do. He put his shoes back on, buttoned his shirt back up and tucked it in. A moment later, he was in the elevator and on his way down.

When the elevator door opened, Mitch stepped out into the lobby and spotted the pop machine he had seen earlier. He was just getting ready to insert his money into the slot when he happened to glance through a window just to his left. He realized he was looking into the hotel restaurant, and there, sitting at a table by herself, was Gayla.  (Author’s note: remember when every single hotel had a restaurant? That was just like, a standard thing… they ALL had them… this one still did… like some sort of weird hotel that had been lost in time and somehow never had its restaurant taken out, shut down, or converted into an exercise room).

He subconsciously put his money back in his pocket and, before he lost his nerve completely, took five quick steps across the lobby and forced himself into the restaurant. She instantly saw him and waved with a grin.

Mitch approached her table. “Waiting for someone?” he asked, pointing to the empty chair on the other side.

“Not at all,” she admitted, “please, sit with me. That way I won’t feel so awkward. I hate eating alone,” she added, as Mitch pulled the chair away and sat down.

“I guess you’re staying in this hotel too?” Mitch inquired.

“Yeah, third floor,” she replied.

“Really? Small world, that’s where we are too,” Mitch answered. “Must be where they stuck all the swimmers.”

A waiter approached their table and took orders. Mitch was still full from the big dinner he’d had with his swimmers, but he still ordered a small sandwich, just so it would seem less odd.

“So, Woolfield?” Mitch said as the waiter left them alone again. “How’d you end up there? Are you teaching? Or just working with the swim team?”

She took a sip from her glass of water as if considering how to answer. “Well,” she started, “I got my degree and my teaching certificate a few years ago. I’d been working on it for years, just taking a class here or there, when I could.” She paused for a moment and took another sip of water. “Even though I was certified, I still wasn’t really planning on teaching. I just wanted it, you know, in case I needed to fall back on something.”

Mitch nodded, encouraging her to continue. He could sense that she was preparing to broach a difficult subject, but he wasn’t sure what.

Gayla clasped her hands in front of her, an uncharacteristic, melancholy expression on her face. “Then, suddenly, one day, I needed to fall back on it.” She gave Mitch a wry smile. “Last spring I found out my husband had been cheating on me and we got a divorce.”

Mitch frowned. “He was cheating? On you? His loss. That dude needs to have his head examined,” he quipped.

Gayla laughed, a big full laugh. “His hot little secretary,” she explained as she shook her head. “I know, that sounds so cliché, but…” she trailed off, and took another sip of water.

Mitch took his own sip out of the Dr. Pepper the waiter had just brought him. He suddenly felt slightly immature, slurping from a straw, sitting at a table with a woman eighteen years his elder. He nervously pulled the straw out of the glass and placed it on the table.

“So, I packed up my stuff and moved out. I started applying at schools and got hired in Woolfield. They were needing a girls swim coach too, so I volunteered. You know how it is, I figured it would help me keep the job.”

Mitch nodded, completely understanding how she felt. They sat for a moment, not speaking. She seemed to be studying Mitch intently. The only sounds were those coming from the kitchen. Dishes being clinked around. Running water. Chatter between the waiters and busboys. Mitch observed that they were the only customers in the restaurant. It would probably close at ten o’clock, in just a few minutes.

A moment later, their food arrived. As she glanced down at her sandwich, Gayla commented, “Ugh, I really need this. I haven’t eaten at all today. It’s just been go, go, go since early this morning.”

Mitch agreed with that sentiment as he inspected his own sandwich. He removed the pickles and onions before picking it up to take a bite.

They ate their meal quickly because the restaurant staff was doing their best to indicate that their presence was no longer welcome. However, as they continued to eat, their conversation moved on to more pleasant topics. Mitch was able to make her laugh several times and Gayla really seemed to relax.

They were making good conversation when their waiter brought them their checks. “I will be your cashier when you’re ready,” he said brusquely.

Gayla giggled. “I think they want us to leave,” she commented.

“Me too,” Mitch agreed, as he subtly picked up both checks. He took out his wallet and pulled out enough cash to pay for both meals, plus a generous tip.

Gayla was caught off guard. “Oh, thank you, Mitch, but really, you don’t have to do that,” she stated.

Mitch smiled. “I know, but I want to,” he answered.

They parted the restaurant together, still chatting away, catching up on old times and filling each other in on what they’d been doing the past eleven years. They rode up the elevator to the third floor and began walking down the hall. They reached Gayla’s room first. She stopped at the door, her hand resting on the knob. Yet, they kept talking. It was such a natural, easy conversation. They were both enjoying it. Neither wanted it to end.

“You want to come in for a while?” Gayla finally asked. Her voice sounded shaky as she asked the question. She removed her card-key from the pocket of her jeans and inserted it into the slot. The lock clicked and she pushed the door open.

Mitch hesitated for only a moment. His knees trembling as much as Gayla’s voice. “Sure,” he responded quickly. His breathing suddenly became short, his mouth dry. He stepped through the door as she closed it behind him.

Now that Mitch was actually in Gayla’s hotel room, he had no idea what to do. Where do they go from here? What’s the next step? Where should he sit down? What should they talk about? Just a moment ago, we were having great conversation, but now? His mind was a total blank.

Gayla stepped into the bathroom for just a moment and Mitch gingerly sat down on a chair in the corner, perched on the edge of the seat, as if it was something he wasn’t supposed to sit on. When Gayla reemerged, she had removed her earlier outfit and now looked much more comfortable in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

When she saw Mitch, she chuckled. “That chair’s not going to bite, you know. Relax a little bit.”

Mitch realized how much tension he really was feeling and attempted to at least make himself look less nervous than he felt.

“Where are your girls?” Mitch asked. As soon as he said it, it sounded like a stupid question. “I mean, your swimmers? Are they nearby?”

Gayla pointed towards the headboard of her bed. “Two are in this room right next door,” she explained. “The other four are further off down the hall.” She paused for a moment as if searching for a topic of conversation. “So, tell me,” she finally said, sitting down on the edge of her bed just across from Mitch, “what’s Amanda up to these days?” As she asked the question, she crossed her legs, sitting Indian-style, tucking her bare feet up under her thighs.

“Amanda?” Mitch replied as if he had never heard the name. He knew exactly who she was talking about, of course. “You might know better than I do,” he admitted. “Last I heard, she was a doctor and still trying to compete in triathlons.”

Gayla nodded, “That’s the last I’ve heard too.”

Mitch was suddenly struck by a question that had been plaguing him for years. “Can I ask a question?” he blurted out.

Gayla smiled, a little mischievously. “Mitch, you can ask me anything you want.”

Emboldened by her reply, Mitch plowed ahead. “When you were our assistant swim coach, what else did you do? I mean, did you have another job? During the day? Me and the other guys, we always wondered about that.”

“You and the other guys, huh?” she said with a grin. “Well, if you must know, I was just a teller at a bank.”

“Hmmm, that’s interesting,” Mitch replied awkwardly.

“You seem disappointed,” Gayla responded with a giggle. “Expecting something more adventurous?”

“The guys and I… we always thought maybe you were a model or something.”

Gayla laughed again.  “A model? Teeth, hands, or feet? Those might be my most photogenic attributes.”

“No, I mean, like a swimsuit model,” Mitch heard himself say.

“So, you thought I was a swimsuit model?” Gayla joked, stretching out her legs and striking a seductive, yet humorous pose on the bed. 

“I could see you in a swimsuit magazie—” Mitch started, and then stopped, instantly realizing how that sounded. “I mean, you’d look good in a swimsuit—” he abruptly stopped again. “Ugh, that sounds worse. What I mean is—”

Gayla broke out into a fit of laughter and held up her hands. “Don’t worry about it, I know what you mean,” she said, smiling.

Mitch felt his face turn beet red and leaned back against the chair. His back was still tense. He realized that it wasn’t from the situation, but instead, it was the same pain he had felt earlier that evening in his own room. The grimace on his face must have given him away.

“You feeling okay?” Gayla asked.

“Oh, it’s just my back,” Mitch explained. “It’s been bothering me all evening.”

Their conversation continued and both of them continued to unwind, and relax, as they grew more accustomed to each other’s presence.

At one point, Mitch commented, “You know what one of the best things about being a swimmer in high school was?”

“What’s that?” Gayla questioned.

“Getting to see all the girls in their swimsuits,” Mitch joked.

“Ha!” Gayla said, leaning back with laughter. She then raised her eyebrows and gave Mitch a knowing glance. “And, maybe checking out an assistant swim coach when you thought she wasn’t looking?” she teased.

“Who me?” Mitch responded with mock indignation. “I would never do a thing like that.”

“Don’t worry,” Gayla replied with a sheepish grin. “After all, if I really didn’t want you to look, I wouldn’t have worn those short-shorts to practice, would I?”

Mitch chuckled. But the laughter brought on another twinge of pain in his back. He winced and twisted once more, trying to get comfortable.

“You’re really hurting,” Gayla said suddenly. “Come over here, let me rub it out—I mean, let me massage your back a little.” This time it was Gayla’s turn to blush. She patted the bed next to her and slid over a bit, giving Mitch room to sit down.

Mitch tentatively left the comfortable confines of his chair and sat down on the bed next to her. As he felt her hands on his back for the first time, he realized with a start that this was the closest he had ever been to her. In fact, it was the first time she’d ever touched him, outside of maybe a handshake.

She started working on Mitch’s back, asking him where it hurt and then applying pressure in the appropriate spot. Her fingers were magical and Mitch instantly felt relief from his back pain. As she massaged, they continued talking about various things, but it was becoming more and more difficult to concentrate. Aside from that, Mitch discovered that his pants were becoming uncomfortably tight.

As the massage continued, her hands went from his back, up to his shoulders. This felt good, but it was largely unnecessary. Mitch’s shoulders felt fine. He had no intention of stopping her though. Then, she flirtatiously ran her fingers over his shoulder and down the front, almost to his chest.

“Hey now,” he said teasingly. As he spoke, he turned his head towards hers. Their faces were just inches apart.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, “Did you not like that?” As she said the words, she gazed deeply into his eyes.

“No, it’s not that,” Mitch replied, his voice shaking. His heart pounding. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Were you expecting this?” Gayla asked as she leaned in and kissed Mitch for the first time. Their lips met. It was a sweet, simple kiss—but effective. She pulled away and placed a hand back on Mitch’s shoulder. He could feel her trembling uncontrollably.

He turned his entire body around so that they were facing each other completely. He took her shaking hands in one of his own and gave her a reassuring smile. He placed his other hand on her thigh and leaned in for another kiss. This time, their angle was better. A full-fledged kiss. Nothing simple about it. Lips pressed against each other. Tongues dancing.

As they released their kiss once more, they looked into each other’s eyes. Each could feel the other’s timidity and tension.  

Gayla giggled. “I’m not sure which of us is more nervous, you or me.”

Mitch laughed. It felt good to know that they were both experiencing the same emotions.

Gayla grinned, giggled weakly, and shook her head. The next words to escape her lips were, “Oh hell,” and she just went for it. She aggressively lunged towards Mitch and attacked him with a barrage of passionate kisses.

Completely overwhelmed by the suddenness of the advance, Mitch passively accepted her kisses. In another moment, he found that she was pushing him down against the bed. He finally found his senses and began kissing back. His hands started roaming, finding her hips, and then her torso, which was now bare because her T-shirt was beginning to ride up.

His hands were still jittery. His mind raced. He couldn’t believe where he was. Who he was with. Gayla. She had been an attractive, adult woman sixteen years ago. Someone he had fantasized about. One of the first adult women he’d ever really thought of as ‘hot’. And now? Her tongue was in his mouth.

Gayla quickly unbuttoned Mitch’s shirt, revealing his white undershirt. He leaned up and awkwardly removed the long-sleeve shirt, while Gayla’s fingers made their way under the white T-shirt and up to his bare chest. She kissed him again and with one fluid motion, she lifted his undershirt up and over his head.

She kissed his muscular chest. Mitch was suddenly glad for all those late evenings he’d spent swimming laps in the pool.

“You shave your chest,” she whispered. “That’s awesome. I love it.”

She may have loved his chest, but Mitch quickly understood that the kisses were getting lower. His rib cage. His stomach. Her hands were toying with the button and zipper of his jeans. The button was undone. The pants were unzipped.

Mitch’s cock had reached full arousal long ago. A bulge in his pants that was now unleashed. She tugged his boxers down around his knees and seemed to study his dick for a moment. She gripped it in her hand and massaged the shaft up and down. She kissed it once, and then again.

Mitch watched her longingly, ready for her mouth to pleasure him. Suddenly, she stopped. She laughed almost uncontrollably and sat back on her knees.

Mitch began to laugh as well. “Is it that funny looking?” he asked, a little self-conscious.

“No,” Gayla replied apologetically, “that’s not it at all. Trust me, it’s glorious,” she said with a smile. “The situation just finally got to me, that’s all.” She shook her head. “I just thought to myself, holy shit, you’re getting ready to give Mitch a blowjob.”

“And, that’s a bad thing?” Mitch wondered aloud.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. Finally, she grinned wildly, and added, “It’s a very, very good thing.” As she spoke the words, she leaned back over him and opened her mouth.

Mitch gasped as he felt her soft, wet mouth close around his cock.  Her tongue rolled over his head, back and forth. He could feel her warm saliva as she started working his member in and out of her mouth. She gripped the base with one hand and started delicately massaging his balls with the other. Up and down she went, her head bobbing rhythmically.

She sucked the cock all the way out of her mouth, allowing her lips to make a popping sound as she slurped on the head. She licked down the shaft. Then back up the shaft. Then deep throated his member once more.

Mitch held it back as long as he could. He wanted this moment to last forever. But all too soon, he felt that familiar surge within him. A tidal wave that he couldn’t control. “I’m close,” he whispered. Then, a little more urgently, “Really close.”

Gayla gave a half-nod to indicate she understood.

A moment later, his stomach muscles clenched. He instinctively thrust his hips, driving his cock upward, as he came into her mouth. He exhaled heavily. Gayla never wavered. She accepted all of his cum readily, taking his entire load into her waiting mouth. A moment later, it was gone.

She slurped Mitch’s cock once more and smiled at him broadly. “How was it?” she asked.

Mitch shook his head. He couldn’t see straight. “Amazing. It was absolutely amazing.”

To his surprise, she went back down on him.

“Dear God,” Mitch moaned.

She started sucking his cock again earnestly, working it in and out of her mouth, attacking it like the cougar she was.

Mitch laid back, relishing the experience. His head hit the pillow and he sighed deeply. He could feel his erection beginning to grow again as she nursed it back to life. In just a few more minutes, he was once again fully engorged.

Gayla once again sat back on her knees, her ass resting on her feet. She reached down and pulled her T-shirt up and off. Mitch was shocked to discover that this entire time, she had not been wearing a bra. She was now completely topless. He stared up at her, his jaw dropped open, as he gazed at her breasts. They were smaller than he had imagined. Petite. Still perky, but not as perky as they once had probably been.

Mitch sat up and embraced her in his arms. As he kissed her chest, he examined it closely. Freckles dotted the surface of her pale skin. Mitch’s mouth went straight to the first nipple he found. His tongue caressed it delicately. He kissed. He licked. He sucked. His lips made their way back to her mouth as his arms continued to hold her tightly.

She momentarily pulled away from his kiss and looked into his eyes. He looked back with the same intensity. She smiled. “Mitch?” she said it as if it were a question.

“Yes?” he replied.

She giggled and beamed a cute, yet impish smile. “Are you gonna fuck me, or not?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied with a grin. He brought her down to the bed, sliding his hand down the length of her body, feeling her breast, her ribcage, her tummy. As he did so, he noticed the same brown freckles dotting the rest of her thin, yet incredible body.

He tugged at her shorts and slid them down her smooth legs.  As he pulled them down, he nearly choked. Just as she had not been wearing a bra, she also wasn’t wearing panties. As he let the shorts fall to the floor, he scanned every magnificent inch of her naked body. She spread her legs apart.

His cock, still fully engorged, seemed to act as a divining rod. It knew where it wanted to go. Suddenly, Mitch stopped and chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Gayla asked, laughing herself.

“It was just the reality of the situation finally catching up to me,” he said, mimicking her words from earlier. “I mean—I’m getting ready to fuck Gayla,” he said, teasing her.

She laughed wholeheartedly. “Okay, now that we’ve got that out of the way,” she said, a note of mock-frustration in her voice, “Why don’t you stop talking about it, and do it already.”

Without another word, he moved into position between her thighs. He pushed the head of his cock against the lips of Gayla’s pussy and plunged in. She moaned softly as she adjusted her hips and spread her legs further apart.

Mitch knew he wasn’t huge, but he also knew it had probably been a while since Gayla had been with a man. He took it easy. Pushing himself in slowly until he was fully inserted. Her breathing was unsteady and he feared he might be causing her pain.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly, “It’s just—” she stopped. She almost seemed as if she were ready to cry.

Mitch wasn’t sure what to do. Should he start thrusting? Should he pull out?

“It’s just—” she tried again. “God, I wanted you when you were a senior,” she finally finished. She wrapped her arms around Mitch’s back. “Now, fuck me. Just fuck me.”

Mitch felt an intense surge of euphoria like he had never experienced before. The words she had just spoken were intoxicating, but ten times more powerful than any alcohol he had ever drunk. His hips began to move. Their bodies interlocked. In another moment, he started thrusting harder, faster.

As he fucked, her facial expression became more intense. Mitch could tell she wanted it badly and was enjoying every single moment. Her thighs pressed up against his waist. Mitch raised her off the bed slightly and began pounding her like a jackhammer, forcing her shoulders into the mattress.

He reached a hand underneath her and gripped her ass. He could feel her hips quivering. Her knees shaking.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” she gurgled.

Mitch brought her back down to the bed and pressed his chest against hers. He slowed his pace to a steady, humping rhythm. He wanted to fuck her as long as he possibly could. She relaxed and gave in to his undulations. Their bodies rocked back and forth, back and forth. He could feel her tits beneath him. Her erect nipples against his bare chest. The heat from their bodies, intense.

Once more, she spread her thighs further apart and bucked her ass up and down. The sensation drove Mitch wild and his strokes became quicker. In and out, he began thrusting his cock deep inside her, to the hilt. Grinding against her mound and back out. To the hilt again. Grinding against her. He repeated the motion over and over and over.

He felt his second orgasm approaching. He knew he was ready to cum. He took several more quick strokes. His breathing turned to panting. Grinding against her mound one more time, he thrust his cock as deep inside Gayla as he could possibly get it. His body shuddered. His forehead sweat. He gasped. For the second time that night, he deposited a load of cum inside her body.

Mitch collapsed on top of her, his cock still inside her. She massaged his back and hugged him tightly. She had a dazzling smile etched on her face.

“Thank you. That was unbelievable,” she whispered.

Mitch was unable to speak. He was exhausted. He rolled onto the bed, just to her right. They talked for a bit, but soon, they were both asleep and thoroughly satisfied.

Mitch awoke in Gayla’s bed, early the next morning. It was still dark outside, but light enough that he could see the immaculate figure laying in the bed next to him. Gayla had pulled the covers over her lower half, but her top half was still largely visible.

He studied her sleeping form. Her petite tits. Her shoulders. That little crease where her shoulder turned into her underarm. Her chest, with the little freckles. She was gorgeous.

He raised his head so he could see the alarm clock on the nightstand. 6:36 AM. Ugh, I don’t want to have to get up, he thought to himself. As he lay there, staring at Gayla in the growing, early morning light, he began wondering. How will she react when she wakes up? Will she freak out? Will she say this was all a mistake? Will she be embarrassed? Will she want me to leave? Should I just go ahead and sneak out, and save her the trouble? 

As if she had heard his thoughts, her eyes opened at that moment. To his relief, she smiled.

“Good morning,” she greeted, her voice a little raspy.

“Good morning,” Mitch replied.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Getting close to 6:45,” Mitch said, checking the clock again.

“Good,” she replied. “We still have time, then.” As she spoke the words, she moved in closer to him.

“Time for what?” Mitch questioned.

“Time for what?!” Gayla asked incredulously. “What do you think?”

She had cozied up to him, rubbing her hands against his chest and stomach. As she kissed him, Mitch’s cock sprang to life. In moments, he had one of the worst cases of morning wood he had ever experienced.

He wasted no time in mounting Gayla once more. He thrust his cock inside her. Their bodies writhed. It was hot, sweaty sex. It felt both good and dirty at the same time.

Less than half an hour later, they were wrapped in each other’s arms, gently kissing. Nuzzling their noses. Caressing each other’s bodies. Treasuring each other’s company for the few more moments they had.

“You know we’re not done yet, don’t you?” Gayla asked, a curious smile on her face.

“What do you mean?” Mitch responded, confused.

Gayla glanced down between her legs.

Mitch seemed to not take the hint.

She glanced between her legs again, this time a little longer.

He still seemed slow on the uptake.

“I need you to finish me, please,” she finally asked. “I want your tongue inside me.”

Suddenly, Mitch understood. “Ohhhhh,” he said with a chuckle.

A moment later, he had positioned his head between her thighs. Her beautiful, forty-six-year-old thighs. He trained his eyes on Gayla’s muff. Her divine slit.  Her heavenly snatch. He tickled it with his tongue. He kissed her vulva gently. He plunged his tongue inside.

In another minute, he had his face buried between her legs, eating her out with all his heart. She made soft cooing noises as he worked his tongue in and out. As he licked, he found her clit, and began flicking it with his tongue. He tried to vary his speed. First, darting his tongue over it rapidly, and then long, slow strokes.

He glanced up at her to see if he was having the proper effect. He was. Her eyes were shut tight. Her breathing heavy—she panted rapidly. She raised her hands up over her head and pushed them against the headboard.

Her reaction drove Mitch wild. He desperately wanted to satisfy this woman. He gripped her thighs with his hands and dug his face in deeper, nuzzling his nose against her well-trimmed mound. He could feel her thighs quaking. She was pushing her hips higher and higher off the bed. He moved his hands to her ass, which was as hard as a rock.

Finally, Gayla exhaled sharply. She cried out. “Oh, fuck, dear God!” she yelled in a voice that sounded still somewhat aware that her high school-aged swimmers were on the other side of the wall.  Every muscle in her midsection seemed to quiver uncontrollably. She exhaled again and again. Her orgasm finally subsiding, she collapsed onto the mattress and took a long, deep, satisfied breath.

Mitch and Gayla found each other’s arms once more. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. She buried her head in his chest. Neither one wanted to move for what felt like an eternity. As they lay there together, Mitch allowed his mind to soak in what he had just experienced. He had just spent an incredible night with a forty-six-year-old woman. A forty-six-year-old woman, whom he had known for sixteen years. Holy fuck, Gayla, was his eventual, single profound thought.

Just after eight o’clock, there was a knock on the door.

“Shit!” Gayla exclaimed. She jumped up, grabbed the first item of clothing she could find—Mitch’s button-up shirt, buttoned three of the buttons, and raced to the door.

Mitch was hidden from view, but he could hear the voices of several giggly high school girls. “We were just wondering what time we were going to leave?” one asked.

“Probably about eight-thirty,” Gayla responded, “that should give us plenty of time to get over there by nine o’clock, I think.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be ready by eight-thirty?” one asked, and all of the girls let loose with a furious fit of laughter.

Gayla chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll be ready, don’t worry.”

Just before she shut the door, one of the girls parted with “Nice shirt, coach!” and the girls could be heard giggling as they moved on down the hall.

Gayla grinned sheepishly, looking totally embarrassed. Yet, she unbuttoned the shirt, and let it fall to the floor. Mitch studied her naked body one more time as she stood next to the bed, in the glow of the morning light.

“I need a shower,” she said.

“Me too,” Mitch agreed. “Are you sure you’re going to make eight-thirty?” he asked as he stood up and embraced her, their naked bodies pressing against each other once more.

Gayla laughed before slipping her tongue into Mitch’s mouth. “Well, maybe eight-forty-five.”

 Author’s note: Mitch’s experience with Gayla was truly a one-night stand. The next year, Mitch had no qualifiers for the state meet, so they did not get to attend. The year after that, he saw Gayla, but she introduced him to her new husband.

The last time Mitch saw Gayla, they ran into each other in a Target of all places… in a city that neither of them lived in. They merely said “hi” to each other, spoke briefly, and then moved along.