Hotwife Swim Coach E-Book

Kethandra Wilde

• Herausgeber: Boruma Publishing
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

As the substitute coach, Michelle finds out why the boys swim team is failing so miserably, and then takes drastic action with all four young studs  one at a time  to ease the overwhelming erotic tension they all feel.

Fortunately, this is exactly the kind of cheating' her new husband has been encouraging his sexy young wife to explore.

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

Michelle yawned, cranking the steering wheel of the school van to guide it back out of the driveway, heading onto the two-lane highway out of town. It wasn't even dawn yet, way too early for this. But she had agreed to fill in for the swim coach, who had broken his leg only yesterday mountain biking, and take the members of the high school boys swim team who had qualified to their biggest meet, the regional championships.

They had to know she could hear them, right?

Sure, the four seniors were huddled behind the seats, in the back of the van. Sure, the radio was on. But it was still just a van and they were not whispering very effectively between the bouts of nervous laughter.

"Did you see those Daisy Dukes? And what she's packing in that shirt?"

"Please don't talk about that, the pressure is too much already."

"My balls are so frigging blue!"

"Mine too. I'm not sure this was a good idea, not with her looking so...I don't want to think about it. Goddam! I've got so much sperm backed up my teeth are floating."

Snickers at that. "Damn, Stan, that's nasty."

"Blame bonehead, not me."

Bonehead' would be Bobby, Michelle's new step-son. He was scheduled for this trip too, the fifth senior to qualify, but was home sick in bed. It still seemed odd to her to think of having a step-son, especially one so much closer to her own age than her new husband was. When the coach had called them yesterday, sounding loopy from the painkillers, the plan had been for both Michelle and her husband to take the five swimmers to the meet. But the plan changed again, when Bobby woke up with an apparent case of the flu and her husband had gotten an urgent call from the office.

"Trust me.' He said." Stan's voice went on, complaining about their absent friend, imitating him. "You gotta store up that Warrior Energy. If it worked for the Zulu warriors, kicking British butt with spears against rifles, it works. Spartans did it too. All the top MMA fighters swear by this. Think about it: what do you want to do after you bust a big fat nut in some hot girl? Roll over and sleep.'"

Did Bobby really talk about busting a big fat nut?' He was handsome enough to be getting all the girls he wanted but seemed so shy, so innocent to Michelle.

"Or in your case, Stumpy, bust a nut in your hand." That was Ricky Speedy' Simpson interrupting Stan's imitation. He was answered with coughs of laughter.

Speedy talked fast, walked fast, did everything fast. Michelle shook her head. The internet was full of BS pseudo-science. But listening to four 18-year olds, all strong, fit and toned from swimming, talk about how horny they were was getting her juices flowing.

And that was before they started talking about her. She'd considered wearing a bra but hated the constriction. She was proud of how her full, round cleavage didn't need the support, and thought the loose button-down shirt would keep her decision from being too obvious.

Leseprobe

Hotwife Swim Coach:

‘One at a Time, Boys’

by Kethandra Wilde

Cover Art by Moira Nelligar

Copyright 2020 by Kethandra Wilde

All characters are over the age of 18

Michelle yawned, cranking the steering wheel of the school van to guide it back out of the driveway, heading onto the two-lane highway out of town. It wasn’t even dawn yet, way too early for this. But she had agreed to fill in for the swim coach, who had broken his leg only yesterday mountain biking, and take the members of the high school boys swim team who had qualified to their biggest meet, the regional championships.

They had to know she could hear them, right?

Sure, the four seniors were huddled behind the seats, in the back of the van. Sure, the radio was on. But it was still just a van and they were not whispering very effectively between the bouts of nervous laughter.

“Did you see those Daisy Dukes? And her tits in that shirt?”

“Please don’t talk about that, the pressure is too much already.”

“My balls are so fucking blue!”

“Mine too. I’m not sure this was a good idea, not with her looking so...I don’t want to think about it. Goddam! I’ve got so much sperm backed up my teeth are floating.”

Snickers at that. “Fuck, Stan, that’s nasty.”

“Blame bonehead, not me.”

‘Bonehead’ would be Bobby, Michelle’s new step-son. He was scheduled for this trip too, the fifth senior to qualify, but was home sick in bed. It still seemed odd to her to think of having a step-son, especially one so much closer to her own age than her new husband was. When the coach had called them yesterday, sounding loopy from the painkillers, the plan had been for both Michelle and her husband to take the five swimmers to the meet. But the plan changed again, when Bobby woke up with an apparent case of the flu and her husband had gotten an urgent call from the office.

“‘Trust me.’ He said.” Stan’s voice went on, complaining about their absent friend, imitating him. “‘You gotta store up that Warrior Energy. If it worked for the Zulu warriors, kicking British ass with spears against rifles, it works. Spartans did it too. All the top MMA fighters swear by this. Think about it: what do you want to do after you bust a big fat nut in some hot girl? Roll over and sleep.’”

Did Bobby really talk about busting ‘a big fat nut?’ He was handsome enough to be getting all the girls he wanted but seemed so shy, so innocent to Michelle.

“Or in your case, Stumpy, bust a nut in your hand.” That was Ricky ‘Speedy’ Simpson interrupting Stan’s imitation. He was answered with coughs of laughter.

Speedy talked fast, walked fast, did everything fast. Michelle shook her head. The internet was full of BS pseudo-science. But listening to four 18-year olds, all strong, fit and toned from swimming, talk about how horny they were was getting her juices flowing.

And that was before they started talking about her. She’d considered wearing a bra but hated the constriction. She was proud of how her full, round breasts didn’t need the support, and thought the loose button-down shirt would keep her decision from being too obvious. Her nipples were small, hardly rising at all unless she was very cold or very turned on.

“Fuck you, Speedy.” Stumpy, by far the biggest, stockiest of the swimmers, growled back. “From what I hear, you blast off when you feel the wind of your own palm getting close. I can’t help I’m so big it scares the cute girls off. Sorry, Stan. No insult to your mom intended: she’s definitely cute enough.”

“Ooh!”

“Dude! He went there.” Laughter.

Wait. Was Stumpy - his given name was Steven - saying he’d fucked Stan’s mom, Gretchen? Damn. You go, girl. And she was cute for a mother, tiny, with a nice, trim athletic figure.

“And she definitely wasn’t scared off from what I hear.” Another voice chimed in.

“Shut up, Slim.” The talk about his mother must have gotten to Stan. He usually had a good comeback ready. They called him the Silver-tongued Devil.

“Scared off?” Stumpy again. “No way. Got off? Hell yes. First time when she got her first good look at my meat, the next three with it buried inside her.”

The laughter was louder, but still couldn’t hide the sounds of a couple congratulatory High Fives for that one. Michelle held down her own chuckle. She resisted the urge to push a hand between her thighs, where the seam of her cut-off shorts pressed directly over a very sensitive spot. A spot that was almost thrumming now, as the talk had turned to a big, muscular high school athlete getting off a teammate’s petite mother.

Could little Gretchen have really gotten off just seeing Stumpy’s exposed package? When he said being big scared the girls off, was he talking about something besides the stocky, thickly muscled frame that Michelle assumed inspired his nickname?

“Ha-ha. Right.” Stan’s voice had its control back, dripping with sarcasm. “I forgot: Stumpy here is the rare combination shower and grower both. Starts out as a reticulated python, then grows into an anaconda. There’s just never a witness, except for his hand and the computer screen.”

“And your mom, Stan.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’d like that.”

“Your mom sure did.”

“God you guys! Enough on this subject. The pressure’s killing me.”

“Getting turned on talking about Stumpy’s giant fucking cock?”

“No, fucking Stan’s hot mom. She was always the hottest mom around.”

“Not anymore!”

“For sure!”

Not anymore? Michelle thought Gretchen was still looking as cute as ever...Wait. Realization hit her: ‘Are those boys talking about me?’

“Shh. Keep it down. Jesus.”

When they whispered it was harder to tell whose voice was whose. “She’s not a mom, really. She’s bonehead’s stepmom.”

They were definitely talking about her now.

“Yeah. How did his Bobby’s dad score that?”

Yeah indeed. How did he? She’d never been close to ready to commit to one man, not when there were so many men out there. She smiled, warmth and more - a growing dampness - spreading out from that place where the jeans seam rubbed.

So many other men: that was exactly why she’s agreed to marry the handsome but older - and much richer - man. He didn’t mind her other men at all, as long as she was discreet. And as long as she shared the details with him. Either telling him, describing every moment, or making sure it took place in front of a hidden camera. Lately, they had talked about him watching his hot young wife with other men in person, from a hiding place. Soon. She gave in at that thought, driving with one hand so the other could start to press on that insistent seam. She squirmed at the increased sensations that radiated out from her core.

“Shh!”

“I’m shushing, I’m shushing. But still, did you see those tits?”