Late pt.5 (Patreon)

Hi everyone, sorry for the lateness (not intended) of this one, just wanted to make sure it served the characters properly whilst still having some of the hot sticky stuff we all enjoy! Please comment and let me know your thoughts! - TSG123 x

***

The girl gasped as her neck was seized by the muscled man on top of her. It was done just enough to deprive the brain of oxygen, but not enough to make her pass out.

“GHUGH!”

“Yeah you like that, fuckin’ bitch?” he grunted, slamming her pussy over and over with his engorged manhood.

The girl couldn’t hold it in and choked as she came, eyes rolling up as her walls tightened around the man’s shaft. A gasp escaped him as he felt her juices flood his crotch and heaved an almighty moan, releasing himself whilst she spasmed around his cock, depositing his sticky seed in her womb.

For a second the lovers were two thrusting, heaving animals, silhouetted in the window-light, before finally their orgasms receded.

“Fuck,” Kevin muttered, breathing heavily as he collapsed on top of Terry, who was smiling.

“Was… was that okay?” he asked after a minute of cooling down.

Terry laughed.

“Fuck yeah it was, damn you know how to choke a bitch.”

Kevin blushed, which Terry found super-cute, stroking his shoulder.

“You know, for someone with guns this big, it sure is difficult tryna to get you to use them.”

His blush intensified.

“Well.. I just don’t want to hurt you…..”

Terry grinned in her maniacal way.

“CHOKE ME FUCKFACE!” she cawed, and Kevin laughed.

“No seriously,” she said, her face becoming sultry, “Choke me, Daddy.”

Kevin’s confusion at being called ‘Daddy’ almost broke her, but she maintained composure as he managed a firm expression and pushed his fingers gently across her throat.

“Y-You like that?”

“….Harder.”

***

Jane looked over her new bed wearing a sober expression. So far sleeping had been the most exciting, and only, activity it had endured.

‘You should have brought him to the bedroom first.’

She cursed.

No, she should have controlled herself.

The reenforced hardwood frame still glistened with new varnish, heavy feet planted into the carpet.

‘Finally a guy likes you, after ALL THESE YEARS…. and you screw it up.’

She clenched her jaw and traipsed back to the living room, ignoring the pullup bar as she grabbed her phone for the twentieth time that day and checked her messages. Too much to think about..

Nothing.

Jane dropped the phone, dejected.

She had sent a barrage of messages in the first few days since she had last seen Freddie. Then once a day over the next week. Then one every few days. Still there had been no response.

Jane glanced at her ‘West Springfield Wildcats’ jacket laid on the couch where Freddie had been bent over and railed, and the fact that practice was due to start in 5 minutes refused to enter her mind.

‘Stupid…. Stupid…..’

She began to walk a slow circle into the carpet, seeing his sweet expression after she kissed him, instead of the sports-bag waiting by the door with deodorant, deep heat and a change of clothes.

Maybe it wasn’t over. Maybe she was overreacting, after all, he might even turn up for prac-

Her eyes nearly exploded out of their sockets.

‘Oh shit.’

Jane barrelled towards the front door like a whirlwind, slamming into it so hard that the frame creaked at the hinges.

She couldn’t be late…. Jane Matherson hadn’t been late since she was fourteen.

There was a brief second of forgetting how handles worked before the door was wrenched open, and Jane slammed it shut, attempting to jam her key in the lock. After two failed attempts she decided that screw it, there wasn’t time.

The flurry of arms, legs, and blond cascaded down the stairs and out through the front entrance of the apartment building, diving into her Sedan.

She gunned the engine and flew out of the quiet square, but the traffic seemed to sense her frustration and became agonisingly slow, Jane gripping the wheel with white knuckles, and after beeping her horn so often that she thought her ears might bleed, tore into the car park of the training ground, almost falling out of the driver’s seat.

Ten minutes late.

The unkempt figure rampaged out onto a floodlit field, red-faced and frantic, surprising Stacey who made a noise like a cat being attacked by a vacuum cleaner.

When she stopped in front of the scattered softball team midway through a drill being run by Kevin, she was unable to stop her eyes scanning the bemused faces for one in particular, but the one she sought did not appear.

‘No… of course he wouldn’t be here….’

She tried not to let her disappointment show.

“I am… sorry everyone… really, I cannot believe it, I was….”

Nothing came to mind but Freddie.

“..Uh…”

“Getting busy?” offered Dean.

Jane flinched in surprise, her tone turning to steel.

“…otherwise engaged.”

Dean wasn’t particularly well built, at around 5’9, with a healthy gut, slight greys in his brown hair and beady eyes. Despite this he fancied himself far more than anyone else did, his snide remarks usually relegated to the periphery by Jane’s authority; on this occasion however, he was looking quite pleased.

She realised her cheeks were flushed, and felt strangely vulnerable in front of the watching faces, showing Dean a venomous glare before turning to their team captain, Kevin, waiting dutifully for her orders.

“Thank you for taking charge Kevin.”

“No worries Coach, gotta make sure the troops stay in line!”

Some of the assembly laughed.

“You can keep me in line any day,” muttered Terry as she sidled past, and Kevin blushed.

“Right, well… Batting practice!” Jane called, enthusiasm settling back into her voice.

Everyone jogged over to grab a bat as she leaned into Kevin, lowering her voice.

“Thanks,” Jane muttered.

“All good.”

“Oh and Kevin… maybe tell Terry to keep it in her pants.”

He choked back an uncomfortable laugh.

Behind them, Terry’s jaw dropped in a disbelieving grin.

“Fucking seriously? The nerve,” she chuckled, before grinning and joining the rest of the team in a line in front of the batting nets.

“Let’s go,” commanded Coach Matherson, “four groups, one for each net, one person pitches and then switches, we’re looking for clean, low contact, no homers please Bob.”

The rotund figure of Bob blushed, having hit his first home run in the last match, and got a resounding chorus of approval as people were reminded of the moment.

“Sure Coach.”

Jane’s shoulders relaxed just a bit.

‘Okay, you’re back, let’s go.’

“Yeah, like that’s ever gonna happen again.” quipped Dean.

Bob’s shoulders sagged a little bit at Dean’s comment, much to the chagrin of Jane.

‘I guess if that idiot was going to pick a time to grow some balls it would be when I’ve fucked up.’

Best ignore it for now.

“Keep your eyes on the ball, watch the pitching motion and focus on the release point, the next match is coming up on Sunday so I want everyone sharp…..”

Practice became much the same as usual, lack of Freddie aside, although Jane was less quick to snipe at any mishaps in light of her own failure. Occasionally she would glance at the entrance, expecting a slight figure to dash through the gates, but the entryway remained empty of gorgeous young men, and Jane resigned herself to the rest of the practice with a determination which eased into enjoyment (despite Dean’s occasional remarks which seemed to be trying their best to puncture the mood.)

She was almost in high spirits as the practice finished under the floodlights.

“Well done guys, Charlene, great work, nice Bob, really coming along!”

They filed out one by one, and one in particular stopped next to her, looking nervous as she wrestled with her backpack.

Stacey, a member of the neighbourhood watch and as fit as any woman that Jane knew, let alone any in their mid-forties, had an apologetic look on her face.

“Hey Stacey, what’s up?”

“Hi Coach….. ah… I wanted to say…..”

“Coach!”

Jane’s eyes snapped to Dean, calling her from the clubhouse.

“Care to join me!”

She narrowed her eyes.

“One second!”

She turned back to Stacey. “Go on?”

The woman set her lips thin.

“Oh, it’s nothing… just… sorry….“

She tottered away, and Jane watched her go, worry creeping in. She had seemed quite uneasy.

The short walk to the clubhouse brought her to the window, and it was empty but for one occupant, idly throwing a softball up and down as he waited.

Jane opened the door and entered.

“What is it?”

“Oh,” said Dean airily, “just wanted to see how our fantastic coach is doing.”

It was said in the manner of a cat playing with a mouse.

“I’m quite well, thank you. Is that all?” she snapped.

“Oh I don’t know…. IS that all?”

A vein on her forehead began to pop, hands itching to tighten into fists.

“Dean, do you actually have something to say?”

“Well… quite frankly Jane, this team… I think it could be better.”

“I’m sorry?”

“That is to say… I think things could run a little smoother.”

“Ah. So you brought me here to complain?”

“You could say more advice, perhaps.”

“And what would your advice be?” she said acidly.

He became eager, clutching the ball a little tighter and leaning in.

“Well, if we want to compete with the top teams…. maybe that fat kid….”

“You mean Bob?”

“Yeah, Bob… well he’s not exactly propping up the performances is he? You know, maybe he could train separately until he’s lost his weight… same with Charlene as well….

She had to hold back a growl.

“..and Terry, I mean her catching really isn’t the greatest asset either.”

Dean had always been a dick, but it appeared he was now getting ideas far above his station, and Jane had zero time for it.

“Well thank you for your feedback, it has been noted, but this club is about inclusivity, and Terry has been one of our most consistent hitters all season, which more than makes up for her less-than-ideal fielding. If you want a hyper-competitive team then the Colts are just over town, maybe you should try out for them….

She turned to stride away, but Dean stopped her with two words.

“How’s Freddie?”

Her whole body turned to ice.

“Excuse me?”

Everything seemed tighter, the walls closer, air harder to pull into her lungs.

“I was just wondering how he’s doing... Been seeing any massage tables lately?”

Her vision was going blurry, the words knifing her eardrums.

“What…. what has Freddie got to do with anything?”

She tried to keep her tone level, but couldn’t help a tremor in her throat.

“Oh… just that I’ve heard rumours. Rumours of er… misconduct in the working environment.”

‘He knows… He fucking knows.’

“Just.. Just say what you want to say Dean or I’m going home, I don’t have time for conjecture.”

Did he know about their indiscretions... or of her… assets, as well?

He smirked.

“Well I’ve heard crazy stuff… Folks saying they’ve seen you and little Freddie having some fun times in the facilities here…”

Jane’s stomach was somewhere in her pelvis, whilst Dean’s shit eating grin became wider, the shittiest, eatiest grin she had ever known.

“And I don’t know about the sanitary nature of any of it but… I mean, what would the rest of the team think? The saintly coach and the young protégé…...”

Jane tried to remain calm as seismic waves ripped through her bloodstream, adrenaline pounding through her veins.

“Is that all?”

He looked oddly at her.

“Well, I think it’s rather explosive, don’t you?”

‘So he knows about us… and he doesn’t seem to know there’s a dick between my legs… that’s something at least…’

“Dean, what people do in their own time is none of your concern.”

“Well, I’m not sure everyone would see it that way…. I mean from a professional point of view ….”

“If you have a complaint to make, then make it,” she said, and made to storm off.

“Wait…. I want to be captain!”

Jane coughed, her reaction caught between shock and mirth as Dean adjusted his fringe to counter the receding hairline.

“… seriously?”

A sober look crossed his face.

“What?”

“You’re blackmailing me to make you captain.”

He squirmed visibly, which pleased Jane.

“I just think… things could be done a little better round here….”

She couldn’t help a chuckle escaping as Dean’s face began to redden.

“You do realise the team votedfor Kevin.”

“Well in my opinion they voted wrong.”

He clenched his jaw and Jane saw the steel in it.

As hilarious as it was that Dean could be this pathetic, Jane knew having him as captain would be an ominous task. His views on ‘motivation’ consisted of backhanded compliments, snide comments, and in-your-face sergeant major style insults to ‘toughen up’ the recipient. She surmised that he had possibly watched one too many war films for his own good.

“Well, I’m sorry but the team didn’t vote for you Dean, so it’s impossible.”

“No, you’re the coach, you can change it.… and if you won’t make me captain, then I’ll complain, and expose you for uh… i-indecent…. Sex.” he finished lamely.

“..Interesting… and may I ask what evidence you have for this?”

“I have witnesses.”

“Who.”

“Paris, the receptionist girl, and Stacey as well.”

Stacey. She had been looking guilty earlier…. and now Jane knew why. Paris had looked odd too when they had seen her outside the massage parlour…

Her shoulders sagged slightly.

“And.. they told you what exactly?” she pressed, ashen-faced.

Dean rubbed his nose.

“Well they didn’t say anything to me directly per-say…. But word gets around. My wife enjoys a little drinks club with Stacey, and I take personal training with Johnny, who happens to be Paris’ ah.. consort, shall we say.”

“Hang on… You have a personal trainer?”

His face went red, and he adjusted his belly subtly.

“Yes, what of it?”

“Nothing,” said Jane, feeling quite enjoyably cruel in that second.

A nasty look crossed Dean’s face.

“Look, I don’t want to be the bad guy, but I will if I have to….. so just make me captain, Jane, that’s the end of it.”

She bit back an expletive.

“Excuse me… but my name to you is still Coach.”

“Ah… Right…. Coach.”

He said the word like it was a glob of phlegm that needed to be hawked from his throat.

“You know the team will be opposed to this?”

“They’ll come around. What this team needs is leadership, not this… this fluffy openness!”

“That ‘fluffy openness’ as you call it, is the reason I am most proud of this team.”

The determination that remained on his face was one of a three-year-old toddler.

“I… Didn’t come to debate this. Things need to change, so make me captain, starting next week.”

She sighed, head thrown up in the air.

‘Well, considering what he knows, it could be worse….’

“Fine,” she sighed, trudging away before she had to endure his ecstatic mug basking in victory.

“YES! YOU’VE MADE A GOOD CHOICE HERE, YOU WON’T REGRET IT!” he called after her, pumping his fist.

Jane highly doubted that, but screw it, what choice did she have?

‘Relax… it’ll be fine…. It’s not the biggest problem right now anyway.’

***

Fred threw his three slices of toast and one slice of untouched bread on a plate and slathered them in peanut butter.

‘I should probably get a job…’

He sniffed as he munched on the first of his three and one pieces, staring at the kitchen sink piled high with empty dishes, almost blocking the window of light and leaving him swathed in semi-darkness.

‘… maybe tomorrow.’

As he ate, he turned the same thing over and over in his head:

‘Did she even care?’

It frustrated him that he couldn’t remove her from his brain. Her face would appear as he was brushing his teeth, reflected in the shop window at the mall, her voice sneaking through his headphones whilst playing computer games….

“Hey bro, any milk left?”

The unheeded visage of one of his flatmates, Gareth, popped up beside him.

“Huh?... don’t think so, did you buy any?”

“No, why would I do that?”

“No idea.”

Gareth eyed him shrewdly whilst scavenging the bare cupboards for anything his flatmates might have had the temerity to leave unguarded.

“Bro, why you depressed, your girlfriend not here?”

He looked up in shock.

“Wait, what….??”

Gareth fixed him with a sly look.

“See, I knew you guys were together.”

Freddie put his head in his hands upon realising that Gareth was talking about Terry.

“Ugh, man for the last time we are not dating.”

“Suuuure…. You’re actuallywith Coach Matherson“ he guffawed. “In your dreams.”

Fred ground the toast between his teeth, staring into the distance and aching for the feeling of her arms around him.

‘Snap out of it. She doesn’t like you; she just wants to bend you over.’

He shook his head, but the glue remained firmly in place.

“Man she’s so hot,” murmured Gareth wistfully, as he removed the last packet of crisps from their flatmates Jackie and Dud’s cupboard.

“Yeah,” murmured Fred.

It wasn’t so bad just thinking about her body… In fact he wanted nothing more than to think about her as just another hot girl. What hurt more was remembering the small touches, the brief handholds, the sly looks.

“Yeah, she is…”

“Woah dude, you better not let Terry catch you talking about Coach like that!”

The magnanimous wink that followed was unendearingly stupid.

Fred made to bite down and, realising there was nothing left to bite, decided to trudge back to his room before Gareth could slap him across the face with more blatant idiocy.

His bedroom was a mess. Clothes were strewn on the floor, the bin overflowing with crisp packets and used tissues.

Listless hands crawled to the computer, searching for nothing in particular, before remembering a documentary he had been wanting to stream for a while (It sucked not having Netflix, but he wasn’t earning so it didn’t make sense to pay for it… especially when he could find it for free.)

After some research, a grainy version of ‘The Last Shot’ was playing in front of him, a series about one of his favourite basketballers of all time from the 80s - Darius Gunnings.

He settled down to watch and within moments was gnashing his teeth because the stream kept freezing.

‘Welcome back to single life, I guess…..’

Freddie slumped back in frustration.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if he had someone to talk to, but Terry was too busy being loved-up with her new toy-boy, and his gamer friends weren’t exactly subtle when it came to discussing feelings.

As he moped around the image of Coach Matherson bending over slid into his skull, and he paused, gaze lingering on the tissue box beside his bed.

‘No, you’re better than this, you already masturbated to her this morning….’

He could smell the musk of her balls, cum dripping from her asshole in slow motion, sliding onto the low-hanging fruit, and Fred moaned as he grabbed the box and undid his jeans like a world-class puzzle solver with a rubik’s cube. His dick was quickly in his hands.

“Fuck, Jane,” he moaned, imagining her bending his legs above his head, the warm taste of her mouth as she mauled his.

“F…. Come on…. Come…..”

That feeling of being filled by her donkey dick, encompassed within the woman’s arms as her hands wound their way to his shoulders. Tenderly bitten on his lip by her pearly whites.

So close.

Feeling her shoulder blades tightening beneath his fingers. Having those angelic blue eyes grow wide in excitement as she came closer to filling him with her seed.

It needed a push.

Steeling himself, he leant backwards, lifting his legs in the air, and slid a finger to the rim of his asshole.

“M…. Mummy,” he whimpered as the tip slid inside him.

Everything released, pleasure shooting through him as cum exploded from the tip of his cock, and he ‘accidentally’ pointed it at his face, rivulets landing on his tongue and lips.

As he tasted his own seed, the haze receded, leaving his mind open to observe his legs in the air, finger sitting in his ass, cum in his mouth.

Disgust settled heavily on his shoulders, and he whined, spitting out a white glob on the carpet.

“Shit,” he muttered, grabbing a bunch of tissues and wiping himself. The flavour of jizz remained, nowhere near as sweet as Jane’s, which made him ache for her even more.

‘What is wrong with me?’

His head started to roll the scenarios over and over, as it always did after one of his recent sessions; her enraged face as she pumped him, threw him about like a ragdoll. It hurt him slightly even now thinking about it.

Was that the real Jane Matherson? Was he best used, like some sort of human flesh-light?

‘Maybe I should just stay alone…’

A long breath managed to find its way into his lungs as he did his jeans up again.

Just… do something. Anything.

He attempted to click on the documentary again but barely reached a minute before frustration escaped him due to the near stop-motion freeze frames, putting his head in his hands.

Just discussing his problems would have made a difference…. but of the two people he could openly talk to, one was busy hanging out with her boyfriend all day, and the other…

His eyes flickered to the phone with forty unopened messages in his desk drawer.

‘… No.’

His hand reached out and slid the drawer shut.

As if on playback, Coach Matherson’s face floated into his vision again, ushering his eyes towards the tissue box.

‘No… I shouldn’t. I’m stronger than this, right?’

His hand answered, creeping towards the desk and grabbing the tissue box as he gave in and fell back into his chair once more, unzipping his pants.

***

Clouds leaned overhead, peaking over the tops of the swaying trees.

“OKAY everyone, gather round!”

Terry stopped leaning against the metal fencing surrounding the batter’s crease and moved over to where Jane was waiting, still chatting with Bob who was furiously debating the merits of Wolverine’s adamantium claws against Magneto.

“Bullshit, Magneto would win a hundred times out of a hundred, you just won’t admit it because you think Wolverine is cool.”

Bob bristled, pudgy fingers fiddling with the seam of the ball in his hands.

“He IS cool, but that’s besides the point…”

“Hold that thought.”

She slid across as she spotted a firm ass and reached over to pinch it.

“Hey gorgeous,” she whispered out of the side of her mouth to Kevin, who was standing, quite rigid.

“Stop it,” he muttered, and Terry looked up in surprise, to see his face was grey. She touched a hand to his arm, concerned.

“Uh… Kev?”

He pulled his arm away and Terry turned her eyes to the place he was staring; Coach Matherson who was shuffling her feet. It seemed strange how she was standing, and somehow the usually fervent gaze seemed lost, unfocused.

“Kev….. what happened?”

He remained grim-faced and silent as Jane began to speak.

“Yes, here, that’s it…… I ah… I have an announcement.”

Everyone listened whilst jogging on the spot or doing a few stretches, expecting nothing more than a schedule update, or perhaps details on their next opponents.

“Listen everyone. I have decided to shake things up a bit… and due to that we will….”

Her eyes flickered to Kevin and her face hardened.

“….We will be changing our team captain for the remainder of the season.”

Everyone froze, all eyes and ears now on Jane as the weather seemed to mirror the change in emotion, an overcast day becoming even more subdued and hanging low over the gathered figures like a moth-ridden blanket.

The only person Terry could see who didn’t react was Kevin, and she gazed up at his stony face, realising that he must have known already….

“But we voted for Kevin!” called Charlene, usually so gentle, head shaking in disbelief, her frizzy hair bouncing side to side.

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the air.

“Yes, yes I know,” said Jane, nodding solemnly, “but I thought we should… share the captaincy around. Kevin is still a leader in our group, that will not change.”

Some of the members seemed placated, others less so.

“In his stead, I have decided to appoint….”

The gorge rose in her throat, and she had to spit the word out.

“…Dean.”

This time the faces in front of her fell into dismay as one.

Dean? As in asshole Dean?

The man’s smile was instantly the centre of attention, and quite off-putting, Jane herself unable to look at it as the group began to discuss this new development under their breaths. Instead her eyes went to Kevin, who despite his stoic approach couldn’t disguise the hurt.

“I hope you resp-“

“Why?” Shouted Terry, “Dean’s an asshole!”

Dean let out a magnanimous chuckle and raised a hand, to which most fell quiet out of sheer curiosity.

“Terry, I understand… honestly it means so much to me… and of course thank you to Kevin who will always be the captain in my eyes.”

Kevin looked like he wanted to headbutt a wall.

“So, just imagine me as your extra motivator… that 5% push that will get us all in tip-top shape.”

Terry was seething with open displeasure, many of the faces alongside her looking utterly non-plussed.

“But we VOTED for KEVIN.”

It hurt Jane to side with Dean, but Freddie’s face swam in her vision and she set her jaw.

“Terry, I understand your feelings on the matter, and Kevin will remain one of our key leaders on and off the field, but Dean is our new captain moving forward, and that’s final. Any questions?” she snapped.

No-one said a word, although Terry looked like she wanted to throw a lot of things Jane’s way, none of them questions.

“Right… Let’s split into a small-sided game, Ke... Dean, will create the teams.”

Everyone began to mutter as he stepped forwards.

“Thank you Jane.”

Jane swivelled to face him.

“Coach,” she corrected him emphatically.

“Ah.. yes, COACH! Of course….. Bob… you’ll be with me today…Terry, you too….. Charlene…..”

People began to assemble into the groups, and as practice began it was simple enough to forget the drama of earlier whilst easing into friendly competition ,to the point where it almost felt normal, albeit Kevin was now a much quieter presence than before.

Then the jibes began.

“Come on Bob, man up.”

“Charlene, darling, you’re going to have to get yourself in shape if you want to get on base!”

“Great strike, a few months in the gym and you’ll be up to scratch.”

“Bob, I won’t tell you again, GET YOUR CHIN UP!”

Bob specifically was suffering more than most, missing his swings with much more regularity than usual, and after being struck out twice he looked a fragile figure come the end of the drill, much to the chagrin of a few players, Terry especially. Charlene and one or two others looked a little flustered, less talkative than usual.

Coach walked over to ask Dean exactly what he was hoping to achieve when the words caught in her throat.

“Fantastic so far, I think we’re really onto something no?” Dean crowed into her ear, as Coach Matherson stared at the gates.

“Yeah… yeah, right,” she muttered, not hearing a single word he had said.

She appeared to have lost all feeling in her legs as her eyes honed in on what had to be a hallucination, because the sun had appeared, breaking through the clouds and bathing Freddie in a warm glow as he walked onto the pitch, barely touching the ground as he moved towards her. He wasn’t wearing softball gear, instead clad in simple denim jeans which didn’t make his legs look any less gorgeous, and a t-shirt which in Jane’s opinion seemed purpose-made to be ripped from his body.

Her mouth had gone dry. Dean said something in the background that didn’t even come close to entering her brain.

“Yeah, sure,” she replied, dazed as those dainty hips and doleful eyes entranced her.

The spell seemed to break as he got close, and then the nerves returned like a tsunami to swallow the beach and coastline of her mind as he stopped in front of her, close enough to touch.

She was painfully reminded that Dean was in their proximity when he spoke once more.

“Ah Fred, good to see you! I’ll ah… leave you two to it…”

He slunk away, likely not realising how sickly sweet his voice had sounded, but Jane was too happy that he had fucked off to care.

“How are-“ “Hey, ho-“…..

They both paused, waiting for each other to speak, flittering around what they had each prepared to say over the past few weeks and now completely forgotten, struggling to maintain formality in front of the rest of the team. Instead they simply stared into each other’s foreheads because neither one trusted their eyes to wander downwards to various enticing destinations and be able to return.

“I… I’ll be at the clubhouse when you’re finished,” said Fred, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“Right,” said Jane in a clipped fashion.

He looked once more into her eyes and Jane nearly lost it right there and then as he jogged away, briefly acknowledging the others working through a batting drill nearby, although when Terry called out he pretended he hadn’t heard and she dropped her arm mid-wave, a slightly wounded look on her face.

The rest of the practice for Jane was torture. Not a single inch of her body cared about what was going on in front of her, and ten inches in particular was throbbing with excitement, hankering for the warmth of his insides.

‘He’s here.’

After what felt like an immeasurably long time, practice ended with some disgruntled hits against breaking balls whilst Dean continued to ‘motivate’ Bob in particular, most of the team seemingly happy to reach the finishing line with their minds elsewhere after the events of earlier today. Jane called them all in, racing through a few small notes for Sunday’s game with them, during which Dean gave an odious speech, thanking everyone for accepting him so graciously to his new role, during which time Kevin walked off, closely followed by Terry.

When they had finished, the team dispersed and Jane was able to power-walk as casually as she dared to the clubhouse, almost breaking into a run at the end.

She paused by the door, taking a second to slow her breathing.

‘Just… be casual.’

The handle turned slowly, and Jane was greeted to the vision of Freddie sat on one of the benches, spinning a bat between his fingers. Jane had to petrify her muscles internally to not fling herself at him.

“Hey.”

He stood up upon seeing her.

“..Hey.”

All words evaded her, tripping over her tongue before she could catch a single syllable. It was like asking her crush out to the prom all over again.

“H…How are you?”

“Fine, I guess. You?”

“I’m good, it’s….. I just wanted to say…”

Fred’s eyes went a little wider, and Jane almost backed away from the apology she had been about to give.

“I’m… I shouldn’t have… I like you.”

Jane’s voice became fervent. She wanted to stroke his hair, murmur sweet nothings in his ear.

Fred set his jaw.

She looked so beautiful that he wanted to get naked and let her scoop him up for the rest of the evening. Still, there was a wariness that he couldn’t shake, one that had grabbed a hold of him ever since their last meeting, leaning into his deepest fears of unworthiness and rejection, holding tight.

“Uh….Sure…”

Jane tried to keep a brave face on whilst inside she felt like a life raft in stormy seas, hopeless and lost.

“Oh, okay, well… how are you getting on?”

Fred’s expression sifted through a jumble of emotions.

“Well… I’ve uh… been able to sit down a lot more comfortably.”

“AH yes… Sorry…. Well sitting’s bad for your back. I was just worrying about your posture.”

They exchanged little smiles, and Jane’s heart ached as he looked at her with something approaching affection for the first time in weeks, lips creased at the corners.

“Look, I… Let’s just take things slow. I mean we can hang out, just… I don’t think we should get.. close.”

He had to force the last word out.

Jane’s lip wobbled an infinitesimal amount. The fact that she was able to talk to him was like a heavy weight being lifted off her chest, but not being able to express her true feelings, to run her fingers across his skin, seemed to drop a much heavier weight right back down again.

‘Just… don’t touch him… or pressure him. Not so difficult, right?’

“Absolutely…. Sure.”

“Okay,” said Fred.

Still his hands flexed, remembering the way her muscles moved with such vibrant power beneath his fingers.

“So uh… how’s practice?”

Her gaze danced up his calves, those plush thighs, her pants starting to swell.

‘Five minutes Jane, just hold it in for five God damn minutes..’

“Fine… Normal really….… Although Dean is Captain now.”

“What?"

Fred’s nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Are you serious? The team voted for Dean?!”

“No.”

“So, you chosehim?! But Kevin…”

“Kevin is fine,” she stated, her voice catching a little as she said it.

Fred bit his lip.

“…. Is this….. because of me?”

Jane’s heart began to thump in her chest.

‘You should suck my cock with those lips you sexy little whore…’

“UGH No, NO, of course not, but-”

“Then why?”

“Because…. Because he knows about us.”

“Huh?”

“About me, and you… having sex,” she admitted with a pained expression.

Fred nearly slumped to the floor, his legs going numb.

“He…. Knows about…”

“Yes,” said Jane, her voice thick. “Word is getting round… it’s just Dean and a few other people….. But we can’t risk him telling anyone else… my job… your friends… Our lives would be ruined.”

She looked at him in a way that suggested this wasn’t the first time she had been through this.

“Right,” he said, looking physically ill as he leaned against the table. “Who..?”

“A few people… Paris… Stacey… Stacey’s friends maybe….”

Fred whimpered, and Jane groaned, her muscles bristling with the overpowering urge to wrap him up in her body. She fought the instinct back. The fear of scaring him away was at the forefront of her mind, instead moving carefully towards him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“He doesn’t know about my dick though, I think.”

“Right…. Well that’s something” He let out a wry smile, eyes glancing in the direction of Jane’s crotch, but seeing no bulge there.

“Surprising… would’ve thought it was pretty hard to hide.”

Jane’s responding smile was cheeky.

“Come here and I’ll show you just how hard it can be.”

Fred’s fingers clutched the edge of the table tighter, atmosphere ratcheting up as they both observed how beautiful the other person was, how moist and kissable Jane’s lips were, how feverish Fred’s expression seemed.

For a moment it appeared as if both figures were going to cave in, Fred’s fingers flirting with the edge of Jane’s thigh, that everything would click into place, and he would fall into her arms. Instead, he took a breath before responding.

“So… what do we do now?”

Jane sniffed, removing her hand from his shoulder.

“I…. I don’t know…. But well… would you like to have dinner tonight?”

She surprised herself with her persistence, and Fred looked at her with an odd expression.

“Let’s just start with practice for now,” he finished, trying to keep himself composed as Jane hid her crestfallen visage.

“Right, yes… yes of course, sorry.”

“Okay then,” he said, and he sat up, brushing her knee on the way past.

With a lingering look, he exited the club house.

Jane nearly collapsed once the door clicked shut, clutching the table.

‘He’s talking to you… at least you have that….’

It was a chance. That was all she needed.

She held herself for a moment, heart racing at a million miles an hour, already imagining railing Freddie in a myriad of unethical positions. This provoked the matter of urgency tucked underneath her, shoving her hand into her pants to let it open down her thigh.

“Fuck,” she moaned, feeling the wonderful freedom as her cock pulsed against her hand, even as her heart ached to run after Freddie, to feel his warmth, his kisses on her neck, hands clutching her biceps as she pounded him.

Before she knew what she was doing Jane had dragged herself to the toilet, slamming the door closed, and thrown her pants to her ankles.

“Fucking…. UGHHHHHH,” she grunted in frustration, chugging her shaft like it was the last wank she’d ever have, and her cock was soon slick with pre-cum, some of it even flying into the air as she began to work the white drizzle onto the thick-skinned sides.

“Freddie, oh baby that’s it..” she mouthed, “You… fucking… UGHHhhhh!”

Two weeks’ worth of blue-balled ejaculate rocketed into the air, and Jane gasped as the shameful arousal rippled up her shaft and spine, attacking the ceiling and cubicle door with torrents of glazing which covered everything, drowning herself and the room in a nuclear explosion of jizz.

Her moans turned into gurgles as cum rained into her mouth, and she lapped it up, overcome by the feeling of release as she spasmed in her own filth.

The aftershocks didn’t recede for several minutes, as cum dripped from above her like a horror movie, the smell of it thick in her nostrils, overwhelming as she tried to remove the dripping facemask.

“Shhiipht,” she spluttered as she surfaced from the snowy carpet, realising the amount of cleaning she would have to do, legs still trembling from the glorious high.

‘I barely lasted two minutes….’

How was she going to cope with training next week?

Fingers squished the now-swampy shirt she was wearing, and a groan escaped her lips, because Jane’s spare shirt was in her sports bag.

The one still sitting next to the front door of her appartment.

***

“AH, SORRY, The clubhouse toilet is… is closed!.. For uh, for maintenance. You’ll have to use the Sports centre.”

Terry looked at her in an odd way, but didn’t question it.

“Oh, okay.. Also, damnCoach”

“Huh? Oh…”

She had almost forgotten she was wearing the exercise top her sister had given to her for Christmas, comfortable even though it showed a more-than-decent portion of her breasts with straps in an x shape across her cleavage, packing them tight whilst still revealing some of the skin underneath like God had wrapped the universe’s perfect rack and sent it down from heaven as a present to the world. The leggings she wore were not far behind in aesthetic terms; skin tight polyester and lycra material melded onto her thighs like a second skin, which allowed them to breath whilst looking scandalously eye-catching.

She had never planned to actually wear them until today, and was already regretting the idea after nearly causing a car accident because a driver going in the opposite direction had been too busy drooling to watch the road.

‘But Freddie will see it.’

“..Just trying something out.”

“Right…”

Terry continued to stare like a rabbit in the headlights, getting so lost in the show being put on by Jane’s figure that a clipped “ahem,” was needed to draw her out of her revery.

“OH, uh sorry, right…..”

Jane let out a long breath as the girl jogged away.

Conditions couldn’t have been more perfect. Maybe it was the fact that she knew he would be coming, but somehow the field seemed greener, trees more golden, clouds less opaque.

Her heel dug a small ditch in the mud as Dean sidled over and tried to talk to the woman that was paying him zero attention.

“Huh?”

“I said, maybe I should take the warm up, you always let Kevin do it!”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

Dean bounced on the balls of his feet, hands on hips.

“To me you lot! We’ll be doing a long jog! That’s it newbie, over here at the front… And you Bob, after Sunday’s game I think I’ll need to get a lot more first-hand with you!”

A brunette girl with a similar, if slightly slimmer build to Bob and mousy hair stepped forward nervously, alongside Bob himself who already looked a nervous wreck after being singled out in the last practice session and subsequently putting in a woeful performance the following match. His expression changed however when he saw what Jane was wearing, as well as many other members of the congregation.

‘Apparently tits are a great confidence booster,’ she thought resignedly, crossing her arms as the team took a short impromptu break staring at her tits before managing to tear themselves away to join Dean on his run.

‘Perhaps I should get the boys out before big games, with a bonus two squeezes for a homer.’

They’d probably make the major leagues.

‘I am never wearing this again.’

Everyone began to slip into a rhythm behind Dean, who led them at a decent pace, perfect for the long-distance running which he worked on outside of Softball. A few wistful looks were still being issued over shoulders at the retreating bosom of Coach Matherson, but Jane was no longer paying attention. If she had been at all bothered, she would have realised Dean was also avoiding sprinting for his own personal comfort.

Jane, however, was too busy watching the gates like it was the final play of the season. She could have sworn she saw a mirage of a sexy young man appearing in the distance moments earlier, but it had turned out she was just going a little crazy.

“Come on you beautiful boy…. Fucking slut…..”

Jane pinched the bridge of her nose hard, letting out a lung-emptying sniff to clear the dead air and wake herself up.

‘Come on girl, focus.’

She hadn’t had a decent amount of sleep last night, but on the flip side at least the bed had finally gotten a little bit of variety.

A hand snaked down to rub her bollocks, sore from having been milked until the early hours in an incredibly violent release after weeks of being ignored. If anyone had wandered into her bedroom last night, the sight of her jacking off into her own mouth and grunting Freddie’s name would most certainly have sent them scurrying.

The team wound their way towards the far end of the field as she remained lost in her thoughts.

Jane had experimented before, but she was worried about this new mental state. If she didn’t act on her affections, there was no knowing how she would cope after potentially months of unrequited lust.

‘It won’t be months …..OH GOD…. there he is! Just…just act relaxed.’

The small figure approached, jogging as slow as it was feasible to go without being stationary.

She assumed a casual look away to the left into the middle-distance, and then shook her head. Jane Matherson wouldn’t be looking out into the distance like some air-headed bimbo, she’d be observing the runners, or setting out cones. Looking on the floor she saw they had been set up already. By her.

‘Right, no problem, look at the runners then.’

She peeled her eyes at the runners with little to no focus, subtly pivoting her left leg forwards and bending it at the knee so that her right ass cheek was almost exploding out of the leggings.

‘Just wait until he talks to you.’

Jane waited, ears pricked, but nothing happened, and she tried her best to use her peripheral vision to gauge how close he was, but it was tricky, and she was a bit tired, and the sun was quite bright to-

“Hey M …. C-Coach.”

She would have flopped to the floor like a fish if her entire musculature had not wrested control from her brain and turned to the source of sweet music to her ears.

“Hi baby! OH uh… I mean… you’re late Fred!”

The voice had come out stern, but when paired with the affectionate moniker, made little sense. Fred seemed to be flustered at hearing her slip of the tongue, and she couldn’t help being immensely pleased that his face had gone a deep crimson as he tried to avoid looking at her body, his eyes pulled by invisible strings to the breasts clamped in a feverish embrace when they weren’t struggling with the rest of her, trailing across muscled lines of her glutes.

‘That’s right… drink it in slut.’

“Yeah, yeah I guess so…. S-sorry J…. Sorry.”

He was utterly hung up on her tits now, and it was making all the blood in her body descend south of her waist.

‘I’ve got you.’

“Well… join the others.”

She tried hard to keep her expression neutral, and Fred looked like he was trying to swallow something too large for his throat, whilst his hands awkwardly slid across to clasp each other in front of his groin where Jane was ninety-nine percent certain that a gorgeous little cock was hardening at the speed of sound and begging for attention.

‘Good boy… stare at Mommy’s tits so you can touch yourself thinking about me later…...’

“R-right.”

He jogged, quicker than before, and Jane couldn’t help a tiny moan of longing as he retreated into the distance, eyes clamping to the bottom filling out his shorts like the most tantalising pair of ripe melons in existence. She reckoned something in her must have been related to panthers or leopards, because the sight of his exposed behind was enough to send her into a feverish rage, provoking an evolutionary instinct to strike at his exposed weakness.

‘He’s doing it on purpose… why would he jog with that sweet ass facing me?!’

The runners (or rather, runner) now held her attention with renewed vigour, energy levels rising… along with something else.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” she blurted, as her baby factories began to thrum with activity, womanhood inflating like a party balloon.

‘Focus on someone disgusting, or you’ll be bent double by the time they get back!’

Her eyes first found Terry, and an interesting internal conversation  ensued as to whether she would consider sexual advances from the pretty figure. Her cheeks went red before deciding that she didn’t have time to ponder her sexual preferences and needed to stare at someone less gratifying.

For once Dean fit the role perfectly.

She planted her eyeline directly at the smug face, eyebrows close enough together that they might be considered close to a monobrow, separated by millimetres of pasty skin. She could already see him berating Bob for being out of breath, which was neither a crime nor a reason to single him out (There would have to be words about that later.)

It worked a treat, and Jane was completely flaccid and tucked away by the time the team returned.

They halted, panting, and she addressed them with a sharper tone than she had managed during the whole of last week.

“Right, let’s try a bit of bulldog.”

Some grins broke out, especially among the more physical players, as it usually became quite an enjoyable scrap in this particular warm up game.

Dean huffed.

“Actually Jane…”

“I’m sorry, were you talking to me?”

Dean gave her an icy look.

“Apologies… Coach… but maybe a bit more long distance might serve certain members of our team better?”

Jane didn’t require his sideways head jerk to know exactly who he was talking about, and her nostrils flared.

“Well I think bulldog will be fine for everyone.”

Dean looked like he was going to offer a retort, but controlled himself.

“… Very well….Kevin, Stacey, you’ll be on my t-“

“It’s not a team game Dean.”

“Ah right… of course….”

Jane turned to the group, some of whom were grinning, including Zoey, Mo and Claire, all undergrads who shared a certain immaturity for small comeuppances such as this.

“For those of you who DON’T remember…” Terry smirked as Dean went a shade of puce. “Bulldog involves one chaser, and the rest of the team have to try and reach the far end of the field. If the chaser tackles you to the ground, you win.”

Charlene raised a hand.

“I… I’m not sure about getting tackled… isn’t it a bit overly physical?”

Jane gave her an understanding nod, much to the chagrin of Dean.

“Not to worry, for those who don’t want to go to ground you can take a ribbon from the kitbag, stick it in your pocket or hang it from the waistband of your trousers, if anyone manages to take it from you, you’re caught. When catching as a ribbon holder, simply touch the player with both hands. NO TACKLING RIBBON HOLDERS!”

Dean sidled over as some players picked out ribbons, others already marching to one side of the cones set out in a long rectangle, prepared to get dirty. She noticed Freddie leaning down to take one… and then his eyes snapped straight up to her tits, as if he knew exactly where they were at all times. She raised her eyebrows as his hand retreated from the box, going to join the rest of the player, ribbon-less.

Her hands began to fidget enthusiastically by her sides.

‘No Jane, don’t even think about it…’

The idea began to form unbidden in her mind nonetheless; charging after him and pulling him to the floor as he tried to skip away…. Ripping his clothes from him…

‘JANE. YOU ARE NOT PLAYING…Christ, I’m going insane…’

Her nipples were beginning to press into the material in her top, and she kept her arms firmly crossed over her chest in case people saw them and exploded, many already struggling to keep themselves from salivating each time they came near her.

“Uh, Coach?”

Dean muttered under his breath to her, and she turned, flustered.

“What?”

“Coach… this gentle touch… remember we talked about it?”

She wanted to swat him away like a belligerent fly, but contented herself with a sharp retort.

“Yes. We talked about it.”

“Well, I think THIS would be a prime opportunity to toughen up the softer players, you know, the school of hard knocks and all that..”

“Your concern has been noted, now get in line.”

Dean became far less amenable at her order.

“Wait, hang on…surely…. I’m the captain!… so as captain I really don’t think I need to participate here...”

Jane smiled.

“Oh really? Captains don’t usually shirk drills… I thought we were ‘toughening up’, no?”

“Yes, of course, I just think as Captain that I don’t require it!”

“Oh really?” said Jane, snorting as she drew herself up to her full height, looking down on him. “Suit yourself.”

‘Screw it.’

She marched onto the field, leaving him standing alone on the side-lines, placing herself in the centre of the rectangle marked out on the pitch.

“Right everyone, I’ll be your chaser today.”

Everyone’s eyes went wide. Despite her gorgeous looks, the intimidation factor of Jane Matherson was no joke, fit as a fiddle and imposing with her height. Many, however, were looking rather more positively on the affair, lost in observing her rippling thighs and stomach once more, scenarios already forming in their minds of energetic mud-wrestles with their fit softball coach..

Jane had the realisation that quite a lot of people here would love to be tackled by her.

‘Note to self: pick your targets, and never wear this outfit again.’

Dean grumbled on the side, and after realising there was no obvious excuse other than cowardice to remain safe, trudged over to join the rest of the team, placing himself at the furthest corner as he could. She noticed he had snuck a ribbon into his pocket, unnoticed by most of the other players.

‘What a hypocritical prick…’

Target number 1.

Her gaze moved across the line to Fred’s expression, which changed to a nervous smile when he noticed her looking.

‘Oh Freddie …. Once Mommy is done with business you’re mine boy…’

Target number 2.

She shot a tiny smile back at him before setting herself low to dodge left or right whenever needed.

“Alright, on your marks.….GO!”

The line began to run at her, players parting like the red sea to either side, although a few seemed to be trying quite hard not to stay clear; Claire, her dirty blond hair waving at her shoulders, was lagging behind in comically lackadaisical fashion.

Jane only had eyes for her first target.

Dean seemed to have pre-empted his demise upon seeing her make a beeline for his part of the field and tried to sidle to one side of Kevin, but Kevin was gone in a flash, far too athletic for him to keep up. He squeaked and moved backwards to Bob upon seeing where Jane was headed, but even Bob managed a clumsy side dodge upon seeing Jane closing in, just enough to leave Dean exposed, mid-sneak with his head lowered. His eyes bulged at her frightening pursuit, and he sprinted as slow as he had feared he would. A moment of pity crossed Jane’s mind, but then, like a red rag to a bull, Dean produced his ribbon at the last moment to make it clearly visible at his waist.

There was no way in hell she could let him get away with that.

He barely got two steps in the open before Jane caught him with a pulverising tackle that nearly took his torso from his body, and Terry couldn’t help a small “WOAH!” of approval as some of the other teammates hollered or winced, in many cases both.

She didn’t even give him the silver lining of landing on top of him, rolling to the side and barely grazing the dirt as Dean settled heavily into the earth, entrenched like he had fallen from space.

Jane picked herself up, wiping off a fleck of the mud on her shoulder as the rest of the team reached the opposite side, many grinning from ear to ear, turning to come back, others looking with quite terrified expressions. The sheer physicality of Jane was a sight to behold, and everyone present were entranced by the way she strode to the centre like a lioness, queen of her kingdom.

“Oh sorry Dean, I didn’t realise you had a ribbon there! PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU KEEP YOUR RIBBONS VISIBLE AT ALL TIMES…..”

Many of the team scrabbled to make their ribbons front and centre on their person. Others regretted not going to grab one earlier.

Dean seemed unable to rise, struggling to get his breath back and probably quite heavily winded. When he got back to his feet on shaky legs, it seemed like he might puke given the green tinge In his cheeks.

“Next run… GO!”

Jane’s brain was already scanning for its next target.

‘Where are…….Ah, there you are my love…’

He seemed to be waiting for her to find him, and upon realising the target on his forehead, couldn’t stop a smirk slipping onto his lips, beginning a sprint to her right.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she muttered, unable to contain a grin of her own as she moved to cut off the escape route, but then Charlene appeared in the way, and upon seeing her quite terrified expression Jane slowed her pursuit, nicking the ribbon from the woman’s pocket as she did so.

“Oh blast… I really don’t think this game is my forte,” she said, more relieved than anything as Freddie escaped behind her.

“Just a warm-up game, don’t worry Charlene, you’ll crush them in the catching drills.”

Charlene chuckled and Jane gave a warm smile even as her prey evaded her, coming to a halt at the far end.

She paused as Charlene and Dean came to join her in the centre, and Dean, although still winded, looked out for vengeance having been humiliated. Luckily, he had spied the target that he knew would boost his ego back to its usual sizeable proportions.

Bob’s face was red, sweat rolling down his brow as he prepared for the next run, and he noticed Dean was sliding towards his side of the field, eyes laser-beamed to his forehead. The boy began to shift his hefty weight side-to-side, patting empty, ribbon-less pockets.

Jane watched this happening and her aggression flared, caught between the bright gaze of Fred and his less-than-admirable team captain.

‘Don’t get distracted…. it’s time to put your bitch beneath you.’

“GO!” she shouted, and the runners began to fling themselves forward.

“Come on…. Come to Mummy,” she breathed, tracing every step of her boy, tasting his scent in the air.

He was trying to go around the edge again, but she was already out to join him; her fingers brushing close to his sweet derriere… The minx was about to be mounted.

Then Dean moved in her periphery and her focus switched, watching as Bob scrabbled to his left, far too easy prey for the man pursuing him. Watching Bob’s confidence wavering in the past week, it was clear the effect Dean was having on him, terrified as he attempted to heave himself towards his goal in the distance. She made the decision in a split second, setting her jaw and flew off after him, leaving Freddie to sprint disappointingly clear.

Her hand flicked out to snatch a ribbon from the new girl Kelsey on her way past, bee-lining to arrive at the perfect second, not too fast…. It had to look like a feasible tackle.

Freddie looked back in surprise at Jane sprinting away from him, and then realised which direction she was headed. His heart blossomed, unable to fight the attraction he felt at witnessing her bone-deep desire to right a wrong, and then in a cluster of limbs and dirt Dean was flying through the air once more as Jane clattered into him, supposedly in the process of trying to reach Terry, who had been running outside him.

“OOHHF!” gasped Dean as he was bulldozed to the floor, Jane slamming into Terry and ending up on top of her.

“OOhhh, ha, oh hi!” said Terry, a dazed look on her face, and Jane had the weirdly comfortable revelation that her breasts were pressing into Terry’s much less rotund, but still pert chest.

“Hey.. Great tackle coach… phew…. Could you… Could you do it one more time just to make sure?”

Jane snorted as Terry’s grin didn’t completely hide the tinge of arousal in her expression.

“Oh for goodness’ sake…. very funny,” she muttered, trying to calm herself down as she got to her feet, Dean remaining prone on the ground.

She looked round to see Charlene holding onto Bob, who was almost relieved to be caught by her,  doubly so at not being taken to the ground as a whine issued from somewhere around Jane’s ankles.

“Excellent teamwork Dean,” she said to the air above him whilst walking back to the centre once more. Terry flipped herself upright to join her, looking rather flushed.

‘Right, where are you my baby, no more Miss nice girl……

She was almost frothing at the mouth as she locked eyes with Freddie for the third time.

After the tantalising close calls, his sweet tush evading her fingers, the calm, collected part of her personality was being overpowered by the urge to be strong, dominant. Her competitive instincts were taking over, and she promised herself that this run would be his last time he stayed on his feet.

There was a little fear in his gaze as he spotted the intensity emanating from every pore of his Coach, and Freddie realised there was now a slim-to-none chance of evading the homing missile of Jane Matherson.

As the runners caught their breath, they took stock, counting the catchers who almost outnumbered them now.

“GO” barked Jane, and when the line began to tentatively push forward it became clear that no-one wanted to be the first to go through the gauntlet. Jane helped make up their minds by sprinting like an Olympian athlete towards the area of the pitch where Freddie was.

The players in his vicinity froze, the sight of Jane slicing through the air like a gorgeous knife as intimidating as it was mind-bendingly exciting. Fred just about managed to pedal his legs into gear, managing to move faster than Kevin for a brief time who saw where Jane was headed and dodged thankfully out of the way, only to be poleaxed by Terry who took a vehement squeeze of his inside leg as she did so, in so doing formulating a joke about a ‘double tackle’ that would be repeated daily, much to Kevin’s chagrin.

Fred faked left and doubled back, but Jane remained unperturbed, pushing past Mo, skinny legs swept from under him as he fell to the floor, looking quite wistful at not having received a more thorough tackle from Coach as she charged towards his teammate. The two figures danced briefly, but Fred was far outmatched, and a hard grip clamped down on his arm, frame pulled into a tight embrace as Jane brought him to the floor like a lion taking down a gazelle. As they scrapped for dominance her breasts pressed flush against his chest, legs widening into an impromptu missionary position as she bore down on top of him.

He expected the floor to take his lungs from him, but Jane cushioned his fall. The hips that ground up against his ass had nothing to do with gravity however, and Fred’s tight mewl had her dry-humping him in anticipation.

Her wrestling continued far longer than necessary, nipples attacking his chest, hands clutching his sides, and when Jane saw the look of shock on Fred’s face, his dicklet digging into her hip as her own appendage began to strain against its shackles, the urge to tear his clothes apart and claim him was overwhelming.

“Fucking bitch,” she hissed, voice hoarse as she looked into his eyes as he struggled.

“…Jane,” he whimpered, and that high-pitched tone, plus the hands that placed themselves on her shoulders in a defensive pose, brought her back to her senses, realising that she was grunting like a rhino, hips pressed flush to his ass in a mating pose with one or two of the team who weren’t engaged in their own tussles watching on with what might be described as bemused expressions.

She let out an apologetic cough and dragged Fred to his feet, before almost bending double under the torture of her shaft tucked underneath her, crying out for the confines of Fred’s mouth and ass.

Freddie didn’t say anything, dazed, and he staggered off to the centre immediately, hands adjusting the hem of his shirt to cover up his blazing hard-on, and Jane had to bend forwards as if out of breath, waiting for her own steely passion to subside. After concentrating for a few seconds it became soft enough for her to stand, facing away from the team so she had time to tuck it back into her leggings.

‘Fucking Jesus Jane….’

She closed her eyes and breathed, marching back to the centre, careful to steer clear of Fred who was also avoiding looking in her direction. She noticed Charlene was looking at her with wide eyes and made sure not to meet them.

“GO!”

The rest of the team were caught in short order, Jane remaining careful to avoid anyone without a ribbon, no matter how many times Claire attempted to ‘accidentally’ dodge into her path before she was grudgingly caught by Terry.

Seventeen sets of heaving lungs congregated in the centre of the field as she took stock.

“Well done everyone… A fairly physical exercise, but certainly a tough measure of fitness and strength of will. A round of applause also for our new captain for being such a good sport.”

The team clapped louder than necessary as Dean winced, raising his hand to accept the somewhat less-than-generous ovation.

“Right, split up into pairs, we’re going to practice high catches..”

Her eyes flickered to Freddie, but he looked off, distant.

‘Fuck.’

“… The key is keeping your body position square, you should already have your chest facing the ball….”

His stare seemed to be off in the middle distance.

‘You shouldn’t have joined in.’

“.. and, and then….”

He couldn’t have been listening.

‘You’re going to lose him. Forever.’

Jane coughed, her throat going hoarse.

“HMM, S-sorry… Kevin if you could…”

Kevin raised his head, a little life coming back into his cheeks, until Dean managed to gather enough breath to interject.

“A-Actually Jane, I think I… huhhh.. should step in here!“

She had to bite back a retort.

“Ah… right.. Yes.”

Kevin seemed to melt back into obscurity, and Terry tried to put an arm around him, but was shrugged off, as Dean doubled over for a second before lifting himself up.

“Okay…. everyone, all you have to focus on is the seams, that’s the key, easy to spot the orientation of the ball if you do that, makes catching positively trivial….”

The fact it was near impossible to focus on the seams of a moving fastball didn’t faze him in the slightest, his voice ringing with truth.

Jane stepped sideways a little, able to observe Fred’s visage more intently, but he showed no sign of noticing her gaze.

‘You’ve screwed it. This is the last time you’re ever going to see him.’

She wanted to burst into tears, but managed to keep her eyes painfully dry even as her insides shrivelled up like a prune in the desert.

Dean continued to spout drivel as Jane hugged her elbows to her sides, trying to find some sort of self-comfort, but her eyes wouldn’t stop betraying her, wondering towards Fr……

He wasn’t there.

Jane searched, but he wasn’t in the crowd of faces.

She looked over to the gates and her heart stopped.

He was halfway there already.

‘No.’

She began to break into a jog that she hoped wouldn’t turn the heads of any of the team, but no-one was listening to Dean, and certain faces glanced at her curiously as she made to fling herself after him.

‘You can’t let him leave.’

Her feet slowed underneath her as Fred sped towards the gate, and then he was level with them…. And then he was gone.

“…. And that just about covers it! Any questions?”

Jane felt like she was going to collapse.

No-one responded, most of them staring at Coach Matherson who was gazing at the gates like they had just swallowed someone whole.

She turned back, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

“T-Take the practice,” she mumbled to Dean as she moved back towards the clubhouse.

“What? OH, of c- yes!”

Some of the team groaned, others staring as Jane jogged off, but she didn’t care. She needed to be alone.

Somehow the clubhouse seemed bigger, emptier when it was just her there, and she immediately ran into the store cupboard and kicked the wall so hard that it went straight through the plaster.

“SHIT,” she moaned, grabbing her foot, which now undoubtedly had a broken toe on the end of it.

“Shit…”

Jane began to sob, sinking to her lycra-clad ass as the feeling of loneliness enveloped her, worse than any physical pain, surrounded by worn gloves and chipped bats.

‘He’s gone… he’s gone…’

***