Chapter 4
Liz Moreno noticed a definite change for the better as far as her situation at State University was concerned in the immediate aftermath of her wild sex interlude with Nancy Spencer.
Nancy called her in to see her about one week later, informing her that she would be doing some work directly for Coach Story, for which she would be paid additional money.
The extra responsibilities were easy enough to assume, encompassing some low pressure, non-deadline typing and receptionist work.
"This will take a little pressure off of me," Nancy explained. "He gives me so much to do."
Liz soon became friends with Coach Story, who was always extra kind to her, and several times took her out to lunch.
One day she was given an assignment that extended into early evening, and as Coach Story trudged into his office after practice, dressed formally in suit and tie after having showered with his players, she was just finishing her typing. It was the first time she had ever seen him dressed up that Way in person, although she had seen him in a suit the few occasions when she had watched his weekly half hour television program which played locally and regionally throughout the football season.
"How's it going, Liz?" he asked with a smile, picking up a briefcase on top of his desk.
"Just fine, Coach Story."
"You're a hard working young lady," Duke Story enthused. "Dedication is something I really admire. Matter of fact, it's the first thing I look for in a young man I'm thinking of recruiting. Oh, sure, I'm looking for talent as well, but it's dedication that really seizes my attention. I'll tell you, Liz. I can name you a long list of guys who played with distinction here at State and greatly enhanced our football program who didn't really have that much in the way of natural athletic talent."
"Really?" Liz looked up from her typewriter.
"Yes. And I can tell you of a number of guys who had all kinds of natural ability and never made so much as a dent. It was all because that group that made it, the guys that didn't have that much natural talent, had dedication. The ones that were blessed with the natural talent didn't. Of course, if I'd known that in the first place I wouldn't have recruited them.
But the point I'm leading up to is that you've got great dedication, and that's an unbeatable asset in any walk of life."
"Thank you very much. You're all dressed up. You look very distinguished," Liz Moreno said.
"Yeah. You really think so?" he grinned, happy that she had complimented him.
"Yes. I don't see you dressed like that usually when you're around here."
"That's true. I'm in my work togs. It so happens I'm off to the studio to do my weekly show with Terry Reilly. Ever see it?"
"Yes. It's a good program. I like it especially when you show film clips from the last week's game and explain what happened. And I like it at the end of the show when you show the films of the upcoming opponent and try and tell the audience what to expect. I remember how much it helped me when I went to the next game. I felt a whole lot more knowledgeable about what was going on."
"Great. That's exactly what I'm trying to do in my show," the coach enthused. "I want people to be informed football fans, to develop a real appreciation for the game."
"Well, it helped me."
"What have you got planned for tonight?" Coach Story asked.
Liz registered surprise at the question.
"I'm going home and will do some studying. When I'm through I'll try and watch your show."
"How would you like to be my guest and see my show being done at the studio?" he asked.
"Well, I... I have some typing I've got to finish before I leave here, and... "
"And then I'll take you to dinner afterwards," the persistent coach cut her off. "You've been doing a good job for me, and if there's one thing I'm a little concerned about with you, and Nancy says the same thing, it's that you work so hard. Too hard. Skip the rest of that typing for now. It'll keep. You come with me, relax and watch the show, then I'll take you to dinner at a place near the studio where they serve just about the best steaks in town. So you come with me and that's an order from your boss."
"That's very nice of you, Coach Story."
"So let's not delay another minute. I should have been out of here five minutes ago."
They left the office and went immediately to the studio in the downtown section of the city.
They rode in Coach Story's Lincoln Continental, and arrived at the studio just ten minutes before the shooting was to commence. Coach Story immediately shook hands with Terry Reilly, the slender, red-haired commentator who was a regular on the show along with Coach Story. While serving as host for the program, Reilly also did all State University games on television. The men shook hands warmly after which Reilly was introduced to Liz Moreno. His eyes sparkled and he smiled.
"Pleased to meet you, Liz," he said in a friendly voice.
"How do you do. Glad to know you."
"That's a very lovely young lady you have working for you there," Reilly told the coach.
"With Nancy and Liz working for you you've got to have the two best looking secretaries of any coach in the country."
"I sure believe that," Coach Story nodded.
Liz blushed a little from the compliments flowing in her direction. A few seconds later the director of the program emerged on the scene', whisking the two men off toward the sound stage. Liz was escorted by a director's assistant to the tiny gallery toward the rear of the small room, where she sat and stared in the direction of the tiny stage atop which Terry Reilly and Coach Story sat behind a desk. Behind them was a large screen, where the football game films which would be shown that evening would be flashed.
The show went well, and Liz watched with great interest. She was intrigued over how the cameras functioned, and she observed the manner in which the cameraman would sweep in and out, taking close-up shots of the two men at one point, then drawing back.
When the program ended Coach Story took Liz around and introduced her to members of the sound crew and the cameraman, after which they left the studio with Terry Reilly. The two men chatted on the way to the parking lot about how the program went, and about what could be anticipated in the upcoming State game that Saturday.
The men shook hands in the parking lot in front of Coach Story's car. Terry Reilly bid Liz a good evening, then walked over toward his Cadillac Seville and got in, driving off.
A few minutes later Liz and the coach arrived at the fashionable restaurant where they would dine. Everyone there, seemingly, knew Coach Story, and it could not help but make the young woman feel good to know that she, a small town girl, had really arrived, being in the company of such a famous man, for whom she worked.
The dinner conversation broke down into two topics. One, of course, was football. It had been said so many times that Coach Story was unable to sustain a conversation devoid of the subject of football for any longer than five minutes, and the coach himself always smilingly related that the statement was only what amounted to a minor exaggeration.
They also talked a great deal about Liz, with Story asking a number of questions about her background, how she felt she was adjusting to the transition to a big city and large university, as well as her broad overall goals.
They left the restaurant and drove for several minutes. They reached a main boulevard and Coach Story made a right turn.
"Coach Story, you turned the wrong way," Liz said, a little bit excitedly. "The school is over to the left. You turned right."
"I know," he nodded calmly.
"But you're going the wrong way."
"No. I'm going the right way."
"But the school is over in the opposite direction."
"I know that. My directions aren't in error. My house is located over this way. I wanted to take you in it for a little while and show you my mementoes. It's kind of like a museum, unique unto itself. I show it to everybody who works for me, who's around me any length of time. I think you'll find it quite interesting."
"Very well, but I guess I'm not gonna get any studying in tonight," Liz laughed.
"Don't worry about it," Coach Story promptly replied. "You're a very conscientious young woman and you do more than your share of studying. As hard as I work my players, there are times when I give them days off. I'm giving you the evening off."
Eventually Coach Story pulled into the driveway of a cheery-looking light blue house set behind a white picket fence, which was situated on a quiet street of an upper middle class neighborhood in which all the lawns were uniformly neatly landscaped, including that of Coach Story.
He took her on a tour of the house, which she liked very well. His eyes then lit up with nostalgic glee as the famous coach, better known within his home city than even the mayor, took her into his den, the most spacious room in the house for one obvious reasonƒ_"it housed the Coach Duke Story collection.
His eyes twinkled all the while as she was shown team and game pictures from Duke Story's high school and college playing days. He told her about his coaches and teammates. He then swelled with pride when he showed her team pictures from his professional playing days, after which she saw the pictures of each and every one of the teams he had coached at State University. Most of the pictures hung on the walls of the large room, while others were in picture books.
Coach Story opened up a large closet, showing her game jerseys he had worn as a player in high school, college, and in the professional football ranks.
After he showed her his jersey collection, Coach Story opened some drawers and removed football programs dating from years earlier, when he was in college, up to the present. Filed neatly in place, resting on top, was the program from State's last game the preceding week.
"How's that for keeping things in chronological sequence?" the coach grinned as he closed the drawer after showing Liz Moreno his collection of football programs.
Once that Duke Story was finished showing Liz his collection, he led her down the hallway, stopping abruptly in front of a closed door. Suddenly the expression on his face became sober. The twinkle that had been previously in his eyes when he had been showing her his collection had vanished.
"There's something else I've got to show you," he said.
Slowly the coach opened the door, gesturing for the young woman to enter the room. He followed directly behind her, closing the door behind him. He flicked on a light, which only partially illuminated the room, leaving it in semi-darkness. Liz looked at Coach Story, an expression of astonishment in her widened eyes. She was standing in Coach Story's bedroom.
"What... are we doing here?" she asked in little more than a whisper.
"Oh, honey. I've been waiting so long for this. You're so beautiful. At school I'd look at you in hungry desperation. Now we're finally alone." His words came out in a tone that was both hushed and breathy, indicating the seething inner excitement that was waiting to spring promptly to the surface.
"Oh, no, don't," she shook her head fearfully. "You're not gonna do anything like that. Oh, please."
"And why the hell not? You're over eighteen, aren't you?"
"I'm just eighteen."
"So what the hell. You're over eighteen and you're of age in this state. I'm not breaking any law. I just happen to think you're beautiful, that's all. I just happen to think you're great, that's all. And I just happen to be ready to prove it, that's all."
"Oh, no. Don't make me change my opinion of you, Coach Story."
"It's high time you started calling me Duke, baby. Or better yet, something more endearing, like honey. Damned but you're beautiful. Now I'm gonna show you how much I think of you."
"Oh, no, please. I respected you more than any man I'd ever met, except for my own father. Don't make me change my mind. Oh, please, please let me alone."
"There comes a time, Liz my dear, when respect isn't enough, when what you're really looking for is something else. Right now I'm looking for intensity, the kind I can only get from a beautiful woman like you, and I'm damned well gonna get it."
With that he promptly and assertively threw his arms around the beautiful brunette. His lips promptly found hers, and immediately Liz Moreno sought to struggle free of Coach Story's grasp. She learned soon enough, however, that the strong, bulky football coach was too much for her to resist on a physical level. He was able to easily thwart her resistance efforts. For a time she did her best to fight her lips free of his explosive intrusions, but her efforts met with nothing but frustration.
Back and forth his lips plunged with commanding energy, and soon the rugged football coach was guiding the lovely young woman toward the bed and throwing her down on top of it. Before she was able to get up and make a run for it, however, he had planted his body securely on top of hers, and now he was eagerly, insistently, forcing his blazing red tongue inside her mouth.
"No, no, no," she managed to gasp, after which his thrusting red tongue worked its way inside her mouth, completely stifling any further efforts to protest.
His steadily thrusting tongue took total charge of her, and he felt throbbing waves of ecstasy vibrate throughout his intensely alive body. The vigor of his sweeping movements quickly overpowered the young woman, whose head spun in an expanding sea of desperation over being pushed toward a precipice of uncertainty, a totally unique experience in which matters were swept out of the realm of her personal control.
His spinning tongue continued to grind against the wetness of her oral digit, and finally, against her own better judgment, she started to instinctively return his volleys, scarcely aware of what she was doing.
He glided his tongue spiritedly against hers for a few more penetrating strokes, and then he finally released his tongue from hers, upon which he reached down and began to work his fingers crisply against the trembling young woman's dress, which he was eager to remove from her.
"Oh, stop, stop," she fearfully protested. "Don't do this to me. Oh, please stop. We've gone too far already. Don't push me any further. No, please don't."
"Quiet down, honey," he grinned lustfully. "You don't realize just how much you need something like this, Liz honey. I know a whole lot better than you do."
"No, please. This is so cheap, so vulgar!"
"The hell it is. It's just something completely natural. A man and a woman are enjoying their bodies. There's not a damned thing sordid or dirty about any of that. It's just natural, whether you wanna admit it or not."
"Oh, no, not so. Stop, please stop."
His steadily assertive fingers kept on working as he sought to separate her from her dress, and finally, his face broadening in a triumphant smile, he managed to pull it off of her.
"Ah, here we go," he gasped.
He removed her dress, then reached out and let his fingers firmly grip her white brassiere.
His darting eyes moved back and forth between her breasts, covered by the white brassiere, and her crotch, covered by her wispy white panties. Her beauty was that of ripe perfection embodied in one woman. Her jutting breasts were perfectly formed, her buttocks firm and curvaceous, her legs sleek and long, magnificently tapered at the thighs.
He also loved the color and texture of her olive skin. A fine misty sheen of perspiration was beginning to surface on her body, and the glistening perspiration blended with her coppery skin tone made her look more alluring than ever.
"What a woman you are," he gasped.
"Please let me go. Let's stop now."
"Oh, no, my darling. We're really just getting started. This is the beginning of a beautiful experience."
No sooner were the words out of the rugged football coach's mouth than his fingers were plucking at the straps of her brassiere. He unclasped the brassiere, removing it, staring down with intoxicating delight at her perfectly formed mammaries, standing out like two identical mountain peeks, and springing forth out of the confining influence of her brassiere.
The young woman winced with humiliation, then closed her eyes momentarily, ashamed that her bare bosoms were being revealed to this man for whom she worked, a man she had formerly respected but now despised for the manner in which he was brazenly and, apparently self-righteously, abusing her.
"Oh, damned, these tits are incredible," he sighed. "I've never seen better ones, darling.
Not even my ex-wife had a better set of tits than these. You're really something, darling."
She looked at him with fear, wondering what he would do to her next. She did not have to wait for long. Duke Story reached out with both hands, letting his strong, gigantic fingers crush against her breasts. His fingers pushed and tugged against the solid chunks of flesh as he grinned with lascivious delight.
"Oh, it feels so good to grab hold of these tits," he exclaimed. "You oughta let a man like me appreciate your lovely breasts without making such a fuss, honey. You're as tight as a drum. Your whole body is."
"I'm afraid. This whole crazy ordeal has me terrified."
"That's sheer nonsense," he replied crisply. "There's no reason for you to be ashamed about a thing. I'm just a horny guy appreciating something beautiful. You don't need to be afraid."
"I'm not used to being handled this way."
"Then it's damned high time that you did get used to it. Oh, damned, what shapely tits."
His fingers eventually made contact with the warmth of her nipples, and several times he squeezed hard enough to make her wince, but his fingers never really inflicted pain. His efforts only stung her a few times.
"Oh, damned, do I ever appreciate a gorgeous set of boobs," the highly aroused coach exclaimed.
By then the coach's penis was throbbing with wild desire inside his trousers, pushing relentlessly and nervously against the confining influence of his shorts. He wanted to unzip his trousers and yank out his hard prick, but that would wait for a little while. For now he would concentrate on the act of undressing his beautiful lover.
Duke Story could hardly wait to remove the young woman's panties, and with fervent desire he released his crisply efficient fingers from her breasts and let them make solid contact with the elastic waistband of her panties. A look of horror immediately surfaced on the young woman's face as she anticipated only too well just what was about to happen.
"Oh, no, please, don't completely humiliate me," her body trembled more noticeably than ever and salty tears of fear intermingled with acute desperation began rolling profusely down both sides of her face. "No humiliation, honey," he grinned. "Hell, I'm almost on the verge of worshiping you. You look that damned good. Oh, what a woman you are."
Promptly he began to assert himself once more, sliding the gossamer-like material down her legs, listening to the salacious scraping sounds of the material making contact with her flesh.
Before long he had slid her panties down far enough to where he was afforded a perfect view of her crotch, highlighted by the tufts of coal black pubic hair and the enticing pink, vagina which rested beneath them.
"Oh, damned, what a body," he drooled. "What legs. What a truly fantastic box. You're everything that I was convinced you were, my darling. I'm gonna devour every delicious part of you " His fingers kept spiritedly tugging at her panties until he finally forced them off of her altogether, after which he tossed them aside, discarding them onto the floor.
"Oh, damned, you couldn't look any better," he drooled.
Her whole body quivered and she turned her head away several times with embarrassment over the manner in which he was staring at her vulnerably exposed body.
Her whole body continued to shake.
The football coach wanted to remove his own clothes so that his naked, recklessly alive body could entwine itself against the captivating nudity of the olive-skinned beauty, but he decided not to undress. Duke Story did not want to expend the extra time removing his clothes, since it would detract from the erotic impact of this moment, the heat that had generated within him. In addition, he wanted the momentum to build consistently, and he was fearful about what would happen if he delayed long enough to remove his clothes.
The young woman was protesting now, and would use a respite to protest more.
He thrust his head immediately forward, before Liz Moreno had an opportunity to openly and emphatically articulate the frustrations she felt over what Duke Story was doing to her.
Before she knew it her breasts were being ravaged by the spirited tongue thrusts of Duke, who whipped his searing red digit with convincing enthusiasm against her breasts and nipples, alternating his strokes, keeping the level of action at a perpetual feverish pitch.
"Stop, stop, stop," she exclaimed, but suddenly the tone of shrill urgency and fear were gone. Duke immediately sensed that the young woman was beginning to derive enjoyment from the impact of what was going on.
Her breasts started to undulate instinctively under the fervent, rippling tongue sensations being brought to bear against the curvaceousness of her succulent breasts.
"Oh, stop, stop," she said.
Now the young woman was feeling tremendous frustration over the fact that she was beginning to actually enjoy the sensations she was receiving from the rapid fire, drilling movements of her lover's sweeping, moist tongue.
His dancing tongue spryly connected with the wetness of her breasts and nipples a few more times. He then released his tongue from her breast area, letting it sweep downward dramatically until it was ready to make contact with the firm yet tender surface of her slightly quivering thighs.
As his tongue made its initial teasing, scraping contact with the warmth of her succulent thighs, tremors of excitement began gushing through the shapely brunette beauty's entire body. As her body trembled and twisted under the skillful tongue movements that he brought to bear, it made him feel good to know that, no matter what she might say, or might be attempting to prove to herself, that Liz Moreno was being turned on by what was happening to her.
The drilling tongue continued to connect with her thighs, and finally he decided to put it to work in an area where it was .even more certain to send shock waves through her entire body, the area between her thighs.
His movements were crisp and brisk from the outset as the authoritative tongue of the ruggedly handsome football coach went to work against the gnarled and slightly dampened pubic curls of the shapely young woman. She had indeed been previously affected by all the stimulating tongue action he had provided, and now he was looking forward to bringing a stream of feminine fluid shooting from her love channel.
Duke's tongue continued to grind and twist, and the initial reaction of the young woman was that of shocked silence, after which she erupted in protest.
"Stop, this is dirty, this is depraved!" she shouted.
Duke viewed the protest more in the realm of desperation and fear of the unknown surfacing within the young woman, rather than attributing any other cause. His fingers reached down and tightly squeezed the warmth of her rapidly gyrating buttocks as the sturdy tongue kept plowing its way into the searingly ravaged depths of her now fiery pink pussy.
The excited young woman, her head spinning in a tizzy, uttered a few more protests, but by then even she knew that the cause was hopeless in that Duke was going to finish what he had started. She also recognized that the emotions rippling through her whole body, particularly those focused between her legs, had thrust her into a strange orbit unlike anything she had ever previously experienced.
His astute tongue knew just where it should strike and when as a means of drawing the maximum in pleasure out of her. He reamed her pussy lining with his rapid but sensitive strokes, and finally, as her legs kicked back and forth with erotic need, he knew that he had her on the verge of an explosion.
His fingers ran up and down her thighs as he planted his tongue once more against the sodden surface of her electrified pink organ, and finally, as her body rocked back and forth uncontrollably, the drops of fluid splashed from her searing vagina and into his mouth.
"OOOOO OOOOHHHHH HHHHHH, 00000 OOOHHHHHHH HHHHH!" was her only response as her hips and buttocks continued to gyrate.
She listened to the salacious slurping sounds of his tongue as he saw fit to capture every appetizing morsel of fluid that spilled from her vagina.
A few moments later he released his tongue from her organ. Her whole body continued to tremble in the climactic aftermath of her orgasm.
"You didn't mind it at all once I got you far enough down the road," he quipped grinningly.
"I feel so depraved, like I've really done something wrong," she told him, her voice reflecting confusion.
"Don't be silly. You just let a man give you some sensations and you reacted. Don't go off on a guilt trip."
"I'm too confused to say much of anything. Or even think much of anything."
"Just lie there," he said softly. "Let me give that luscious body a beautiful massage."