Chapters The halls of Canterlot High are full to the brim of students. The final lesson of the day has ended. Most student pour outside to await a bus or car, or to walk home with their friends. You however, stand with a crumpled flier in your clenched hands. The doors to the gym taunt you, daring you to enter.
You rub the bruise above your left eye. A parting gift from Brad. He was a total cockbag, but you couldn’t do much about it. Somehow he was the most popular guy in school, but you can’t stand him. He’s abrasive, irritating and doesn’t know when to quit. It boiled over today when things got a little heated between you both.
It wasn’t much of a fight, the principal dragging Brad away by the ear for picking on a younger student. One trip to the nurse’s office later and you were back out into lessons. Most people snickered at the shiner you were given, but you didn’t care. You wanted revenge.
So when you spotted a flyer for self-defense lessons you jumped at the chance, eagerly ripping away the poster from the notice board before somebody else could get it. Now you’re here, that confidence has wavered. Your scrawny body is thin in all the wrong places, and flabby in more than one. Thin arms and spare tires do not a fighter make.
The rumors about who was running this little class didn't help. She was an exchange student from Gryphonia, who according to Snips and Snails; “Eats grit for breakfast and shits iron, with a temper to match.”
Not the most reassuring words to student who wasn’t even a sophomore, the high octane poster featuring muscled men kicking the crap out of each other being a stark contrast to your, less than desirable self-image. You toss it into the rubbish.
Yet here you are, about to open the doors to your potential doom. You swallow your fear and slowly open the green double doors into the gym. The battered mats are already set out in the centre of the room, a bag full of gloves and pads poured out next to them.
You’re the only one here.
You frown and wander over to the mats, confused at how nobody else has decided to show up. Even the trainer isn’t showing their face. You won’t be picked up for another hour or so. You sigh and wander over to the bleachers, your sensible shoes slapping against the wooden floor. Guess you have to wait. You went to all the effort of putting your gym clothes on too!
Maybe it was because you took the poster? That was only an hour ago. Somebody else must have seen it, so why aren’t they here? Did everybody else chicken out? You sit there and mope, wondering when the damn teacher was going to show up, eventually drifting off into a daydream about beating up Flash.
You jolt from your daydream as the metal door slams loudly from the other end of the gym, furious footfalls announcing the arrival of somebody else. You look up and see a tall woman power walking towards you with a scowl on her face. She has dark tanned skin, feathered, punkish white hair with purple tips and an excessive amount of purple eye shadow.
She stops in front of you, eyeing you like a bird of prey. You rise to your feet and hobble closer to her. She easily towers over you by a head, and you’re a pretty tall guy. She sweeps around the gym, looking for something.
“Where is everybody?” She asks. You mutely shrug in response, she kinda’ scares you. “Speak up dweeb!” She snaps.
“I don’t know; I must be the only guy interested.” You mumble. She sighs and facepalms, wiping down her eyes and smudging her makeup slightly.
“Uh. Snips and Snails might have spread a few nasty rumors.” You admit.
“Like what?”
“Apparently you eat grit and shit iron.” She smiles and begins to chuckle, slapping your shoulder with much more force than you were expecting. You stagger forwards before she catches you by the collar.
“So everybody’s scared of me huh?” She teases. “I guess it isn’t too far from the truth.”
To be honest, she is terrifying. Her small sports top exposes her midriff, complete with a full six pack that put some body builders to shame. Her black yoga pants failed to hide the extreme muscle that had built up around her expansive thighs, stretching to the very limit. He arms are similar, twitching with barely restrained power that could probably decapitate you with enough effort.
“Don’t look so shaken dweeb, I’m not gonna’ kill ya’.” She releases your collar and escorts you to the equipment scattered on the floor. “Looks like this is gonna’ be a good old one on one lesson, alright shrimp?” You don’t find the courage to protest the nickname, so you just nod along.
She sweeps up a pair of red boxing pads, placing one of each hand. You pick up a pair of smelly gloves and jam them onto your small hands. The hard leather is pretty uncomfortable, and you’re pretty sure they’ve never been cleaned before.
“Alright small fry, I know you ain’t much to look at, but I need to see how much potential you have. Not much point in running into this if you haven’t got a chance right? I want you to try and hit these pads as hard as you can, don’t worry about hurting me.” You square up to one another of the mats.
“Go!”
You begin slowly, attempting to catch the pads with some weak jabs but the more experienced woman manages to deftly avoid them. “Gotta’ try harder than that dweeb!” she taunted. You grew frustrated, throwing your weight behind the punches. One sidestep later and you find yourself wobbling for balance as the girl laughs at you. When you do land a hit, she barely flinches.
This continued for five minutes, every attempt at hitting the pad being thwarted by the hot footed trainer. Soon you find yourself out of breath, resigned to panting on the floor.
“Giving up already? Jeeze.” She groans, nudging your defeated body with a sweaty foot. An evil glint flashed in her eyes. Quick as lightning she swept down and pulled your shirt up and away from your body, unable to put up a fight you lay there and moan.
“Gross.” She comments, poking your flabby stomach. “You’re gonna’ need a lot of work. I’m not sure I can do this.”
“D-do you see… anybody else you could teach?” You pant.
“Well… I’m being paid for how long I run the course, not how many losers I coach.”
“So you’re going to sit around and do jack shit for a few months?” The coach stops to consider your point while you scramble to put your shirt back on.
“Hmmm. It’d be a big time investment, not for me but for you. I expect you here every weekday night, same time, okay?”
“A-alright.” She snorted in amusement as she looked at your sweat soaked body, shaking her head. “You never told me your name.” You point out.
“I don’t normally tell my name to total dweebs.” She commented, inspecting her nails. “Tell ya’ what, you manage to make some improvement, or at least put in the effort. I’ll tell you my name alright? From now on I’m your coach.” She added, crouching to ruffle your matted hair. She frowns in disgust at her sweat covered hand, wiping it on her pants.
“Wow, that really knocked you out didn’t it? Ugh, I guess we have to do some cardio too.” In a sense she was complaining, but there is a teasing undercurrent to everything she says, like it was one big act to mess with you.
From your position on the ground, her black sports top does nothing to hide her large breasts and the proximity to her incredibly muscular thighs is getting you hot under the collar. You get a nice shot of her underboob; they have to be at least double D’s. Gilda kneels there for a few more moments, before breaking into a grin and standing.
“Lookin’ a little red there dweeb, you caught something?” She asks, stretching her arm around her head. It causes her muscles to tense and flex, giving you another fantastic view of hew firm abs and amazonian thighs.
“N-no!” You squeak, sitting up so she doesn’t see the tent you were pitching. You pull your legs into your chest in a futile attempt to hide your arousal, but from the smirk on her face, she’s probably already spotted your little friend.
Think un-arousing thoughts! Mr. Pinkman, algebra, Grandma!
“If you say so. Look, I don’t have the right gear to try this today. All I have are the pads. Considering how you’re the only one here, you can call this lesson over. I was expecting a few more.” She gathered the equipment back into the bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Same time, tomorrow, got it?” She growls, you nod.
“Catch you later kid.” As she walks away, you can’t help but stare at her huge, firm ass, stretching the thin fabric of the black yoga pants. No! Bad penis, down boy!
The next morning you groan in pain. The short time you spent actually fighting have played hell with your muscles, your joints ache and your muscles throb due to your sub-standard punches. Getting out of bed is agony, never mind getting dressed and brushing your teeth. Today is a Friday, meaning that after the next lesson you get two days to recover.
You chomp down breakfast and take off to school before your parents can catch you again, they were a bit mythed about you having one on one lessons with a “violent miscreant”. Being the overprotective nuts they are, they had looked up your new coach on the school website and discovered that “Gilda Kuznetsov” was a bit of a punk. Of course this was mainly based on her appearance and you scolded them accordingly, so far she was perfectly fine, if a bit callous.
You are adamant about doing her program, not just because she scares the crap out of you, but because it also might give you a fighting chance against all those bullies. Mom wasn’t so sure about fighting fire with fire but they eventually relented and allowed you to continue. They want you to tell them in anything bad happens, you simply laughed at them. She’s a teacher (or one in training at least.) so there isn’t much she can do to you.
School is average. The usual rounds of confrontation, name calling and scolding are followed by boring lessons with people you don’t like. Mr. Pinkman decided it would be hilarious to pair everyone up in woodwork, meaning you were stuck with Fluttershy again! You’ve never even heard her speak, making co-ordination a damn nightmare.
You both parted at the end of the lesson without a simple goodbye. You’ve been trying to avoid Brad after your little confrontation, so you sit in the dining hall with all the other students. You grab a small, empty table near the back in an attempt to avoid his gaze. He’s too busy chatting up Sunset to notice you, so you smile in relief and eat you chicken sandwich in peace.
The peace is interrupted by a scratchy voice. “Hey squirt.” You jump slightly and look to your left, where a smiling Gilda stands, dressed in the same uniform from yesterday. “Don’t forget about tonight.” She warns.
“Hey coach.” You greet sheepishly, conscious of the attention she was attracting. Several eyes were trained on you, even more on the new teacher. You nearly object to her presence as Brad looks over and begins to swagger towards you. You assume what’s supposed to be a reassuring hand is slapped down onto your scalp. The pressure on your neck is uncomfortable, but you’re more worried about the presence of Brad.
“Hey squirt.” He leers, readjusting his dumb jacket and slicking back his ugly hair. He laughs at his own insult while Gilda raises an eyebrow. “I see you’ve finally made a friend, too bad she’s like ten years older than you.” Gilda’s hand grips your head a bit tighter; you wince but don’t speak up.
“I’m only nineteen.” She objects. “Who’re you dweeb?” She fires back.
“Brad. You should already know by now. I am the hottest guy in school after all.” He gloats, flexing his arms.
“Sorry noodles, I don’t think she’s interested.” You add as you see Gilda’s expression of disbelief, she chuckles at the insult causing Brad to scowl. The three of you have attracted quite a crowd.
He snaps his fingers. “I remember now! You’re that new teach right? Doing self-defense classes?”
“What about it?”
“Just saying, must be embarrassing for your only student to be this fat fuck.” He jeers. The onlookers gasp at his foul language. “Did you scare everybody else off? With a face like that I’m not surprised; I bet you’re a wimp anyway.”
Wrong move, you think. Gilda doesn’t even bat an eyelid. With her here you can throw all the insults you want without getting hit.
“So why weren’t you there last night then?” You ask with curiosity. “Surely the big, strong Brad can handle a few self-defense classes.” He balks for a moment before scowling. He looks around at the crowd with a small measure of embarrassment, you were right after all. The students begin sending hushed whispers around the circle, not exactly flattering ones.
“Says the kid with the black eye.”
“Tough words from a sophomore.” You prod. “Didn’t realize you enjoyed child abuse.” The whispers only intensify, restrained snickers emerging from the crowd. You were sweating bullets, unsure of whether they were talking about him or you.
“Fine!” He shouts, silencing them. “I’ll come to your little classes, and when you two lovebirds are done making kissy faces at each other I’ll kick your ass!” He storms off, slamming the cafeteria door. The other students giggle and chant obscene lyrics in response before dispersing.
“What a drama queen.” Gilda finally speaks. “Is he always like that?”
“You don’t know the half of it. You’re not gonna’ teach him are you?” You plead.
“It’s my job, doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it though.” She grumbled. “That’s assuming he shows up. Dorks like him don’t have much motivation.” She takes a seat next to you. “He’s the reason you’re doing’ this isn’t he?” You reluctantly nod. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not gonna’ judge. In the end you really need to find another reason to go on rather than revenge.”
She pats you on the back and stands up. “See you later.”
“Later.”
You don’t see Brad for the rest of the day.
The gym is all set up, but once again you found yourself to be the first present. In addition to the pads from yesterday, several small weights and a few inflatable dummies and placed around the gym. You expect Brad to arrive first; you’re pleasantly surprised when Gilda slams the door again. She walked over to the bleachers, looking around.
“Isn’t he here yet?” she asked with bewilderment. “From all that tough guy talk earlier I thought he’d be here already.”
“Nope, it’s just me.”
“Alright then, no sense waiting for him. Get over here!” You jogged over as she picked up two of the smaller weights. “Those punches were weak as fly shit. You’re going to build your arm strength, you don’t throw all your weight behind a-“
SLAM
You both jumped slightly and looked over to the door. A very angry looking Brad stomping towards you, dressed in grey track pants and a white tank top. It exposed his arms, and while they were well defined they were still thin and weedy.
“Nice of you to show up Princess.” Gilda jabbed. “I thought you’d bailed on us for a while there.”
“As if.” He scoffed. “I’m not scared of you.”
Gilda looked to you. “Go ahead and do some reps for me.” She commanded. You nearly lost balance as she handed the deceptively heavy weights to you. Initially you have no shortage of trouble, but soon you find a rhythm and begin to pump your arms ignoring their aches of protest.
She spun towards Brad. “Alright dweeb, show me what you can do. I’m expecting a little more from you than newbie over there.” She put on a pair of pads.
“Why? Because I’m stronger?” He gloated.
“No, because I expect you to be tougher than somebody who’s younger than you. Alright chicken shit? Try to hit me.” She smacked them together. “Go!”
What followed was rather pathetic, for all his appearances brad doesn’t do much better than you did. Frequently missing the mark and losing balance, or simply hitting them with no technique. He looks more like an orangutan than a boxer, arcing his arms out wide in an attempt to gather more momentum.
He lasted slightly longer than you, but ended up wiping out on the mat after Gilda counter punched him. It came from nowhere, letting out a loud smack as sweat flew from his face. Even with the soft protection of the pad he went down like a sack of bricks. She stood on either side of his head, leaning down and giving him a nice view of her cleavage.
“Jesus Christ! I had low expectations and I’m still disappointed! Shorty over there did better than you!” She complains, slapping his chest with a padded hand. He seemed too engrossed in looking at her sweaty tits to listen. (To be honest you were kinda’ staring too.) She slapped him around the face. “Wake up dork! If you’re just gonna’ ogle me for a few weeks you can get the hell out of this gym!”
“Hey!” He yelped rubbing his cheek. “I am a good fighter, lay off!”
“Who’s the expert here, me or you? Shut your damn mouth and pick up those weights, you can follow along with the kid who actually cares.” Her tone left no room for debate; he sulked his way over to you and joins in on your impromptu weight lifting session. He stared at you for a while, before snorting and turning his back to you.
Gilda shook her head in annoyance. She watched the pair of you like a hawk, yelling out tips and technique while your arms slowly ripped themselves apart. You won’t be shown up by this asshole again, so you worked harder. Gilda seems impressed with your determination, and annoyed and Brad for his reluctance to do the same. It was evident what Brad was here for, to show you up and sleep with Gilda. His plan wasn’t working. Gilda eventually told you both to stop.
“Alright ladies, you can stop now.” She paced in front of you both. You were run ragged from the weights, but Brad didn’t even look winded. “Say Brad, do you think you put as much work in to that as you could?” She asked innocently.
“Sure I guess.” He shrugs, looking at the far wall.
“Bullshit.” She yelled. “You don’t even look tired. You’re not here to hit on chicks asshole, you’re here to work, to take part in my little exercise program and to learn how to beat the shit out of any asshole who dares pick on you. If you put in the effort in you’d be like squirt here.” She affirmed pointing to you. “He looks wasted. And that’s exactly how you should look after some intense exercise! You don’t put some effort in, or a little effort in, you put all the effort in!”
The sudden change in mood shocks you, going from normal to livid in moments. Gilda was really getting passionate about this. Brad looked unfazed. Gilda’s eye twitched.
“Get out.” She stated moving her finger to the door. “You didn’t even listen to what I just said, so get out!” Yet Brad stood there stoically, but a look of disbelief soon crossed across his face.
“What! You can’t just kick me out like that!”
“It’s my course; I can do what the damn well I please. Why should I waste my time having a lecherous, annoying waste of space interrupting the coaching of others? Will you take anything away from this except a case of blue balls? Probably not.” She said with a wavering voice.
“I want to stay.” He said resolutely.
“Alright… one more chance. I don’t do rule of three.” She huffed, rapidly cooling her temper. “You blow it, you’re out. No more flirting or ogling, no more picking on shrimp and at the very least, I expect you to take this seriously.”
“Fine.” She smiled at him and patted his cheek condescendingly. Her extra height adding another layer of humor, he was about neck level with her.
“Good boy.” She stepped backwards, twirling to face you. She walked over and handed you a laminated list of activities and foods. “Shrimp, if you wanna’ make any progress with this, you need to put in the extra time. Here’s some shit you can do at home, go out for a jog and stuff.”
She gave a copy to Brad. “I expect you to do the same.” She warned. Brad grunted in response, apparently it was good enough for Gilda, who began to pack her things. “Alright, I’ll see you two next Monday.” Brad took off like a rocket while you followed lamely behind. He jumped into his shitty Camaro and sped away from the school, leaving you to wait for your parents.
You stand, sighing in relaxation under the hot stream of water running down your back. It runs over the stretched muscles in your body and sends waves of relief to your brain. You reflect on the day, Brad’s inclusion to the training, the confrontation at dinner and the argument with Gilda. You can’t help but ponder Brad’s motivation for following you in joining the course. He’s already popular and attractive and has a car. What else could he want?
Now that you think about it, you remember his not so subtle harassment of Gilda. Unlike yesterday where your embarrassing arousal was met with joking and teasing, his was rejected with anger and criticism. It’s fairly obvious she favors you over Brad, which is a weight of your shoulders. This is the last thing you want Brad to shoehorn himself into.
You sigh and think back to the peace and quiet you got from the one on one lesson before it. That was much better. Just you and Gilda. You hate to admit that a pang of jealousy ran through you when Brad tried to make his move, and the joy you felt when she blasted him for it.
Flashes of Gilda run through your head; her domineering personality, cheeky teasing and incredible body cause arousal to course through your body. Your penis slowly begins to swell with thoughts of Gilda mounting your face, trapping your head between her insane thighs, rubbing her soaked pants across your face, using you to get her rocks off. Nothing more than a submissive little toy for her to take pleasure from.
She’d make fun of your tubby body. Degrading you and talking about how much of a worthless dweeb you are, she’d jack off your “sub-average” penis, purposefully using a gentle touch to ensure you never came before she wanted you to. She’d make you beg for mercy, to let you come like the weak willed boy you are.
Sometimes during training she’d grope you, fondling your flaccid cock and balls and whispering sweet nothings about how she owns you. She’d put on increasingly risqué outfits, showing off her incredible, muscled body. Bending over in front of you and giggling and your tent became sandwiched between her incredible ass cheeks.
When nobody else was in school, you’d find yourself pulled into the janitorial closet. Into the thick amazonian lap of the coach. She’d coddle you like a small child, casually playing with your genitals, cooing in your ear as she begins to jack you off. You’d squirm helplessly in her lap as you beg to come. She’d keep you on edge for as long as possible, half an hour later Gilda would pick up the pace. Your cum would splatter against the floor and dribble down her yoga pants. She’d scold you for getting her so messy and force you to clean it off, before licking the thick juices seeping from her enflamed pussy.
“F-fuck!” You stammer, hitting the tiled wall. Your breath is heavy as you are pulled from the fantasy. You watch with a frown as your cum is washed down the drain. “God damn it.” You mutter.
Next week is going to be painful.
Author's Note
yeah this happened
Brad bucked up his ideas after Gilda scolded him. You were annoyed, you’d much prefer it if he wasn’t present for your attempts at self-defense. He was like your personal peanut gallery, content to sit there and chortle as you fucked up move after move. He wasn’t happy when you returned the favor.
It surprised you but somehow he managed to do even worse than you did; being completely unable to react fast enough to Gilda’s speedy assault. He struggled to stretch to twenty attempts before a dejected looking Gilda stopped him.
“Hold the hell up kid.” Brad stops and crosses his arms, scuffing a foot against the floor. He is sweating like a pig, staining his expensive tank top in different spots. “Are you even trying? Did you not get much sleep last night? Hangover maybe?”
Brad huffs. “I don’t see why it matters.”
“Of course it matters dumbass, all of those things affect your performance, and not just in sport. If you’re tired, you’re going to be lethargic and easily exhausted. I don’t believe for one second that you can’t do everything shrimp can. You’re two years older than him!”
Ouch, your pride.
“There’s no point in you being here if you’re not in a position to learn anything.” She jabs his chest with a finger, pushing him back towards the gym door. “Go home, follow my regime down to the letter and go to bed early. If you can’t do that, don’t come back. Alright?”
You don’t pay much mind to the discussion, as you have been given full view of Gilda’s insane ass. You desperately try to claw your eyes away before she turns back around, but the tight fit of the black yoga pants shows every contour and surface.
Brad nods slowly. “Okay. I’ll try.” He gives Gilda a scathing look as he turns and leaves.
Gilda sighs and rubs her hands together before swinging to face you. You quickly tear away your eyes and meet her gaze, smiling sheepishly. Worst of all, you’re alone with the woman you masturbated to a few days ago.
A flash of panic runs through you, escalating into a nervous irritation on the surface of your skin. She doesn’t comment, which only worsens your condition. You scratch your left arm slowly, looking everywhere but Gilda. She scrutinizes you, studying your expression carefully.
“You okay shrimp?” She asks suddenly, causing you to jolt slightly. “You look kinda’ skittish.”
You straighten up. “Oh, sure! Nothing wrong with me coach.”
She smirks and crosses her arms. “Uh-huh. Whatever kid. Quit scratching and get up, we still have a lot to get through.”
You frown. “Won’t Brad miss out on some important stuff?”
“Why do you care? Even so, practice makes perfect. I’m sure you’ll have no objections to doing it again.” You groan and throw your head back. She lets out a chuckle before dragging you up by your arm. She pushes you towards the mat causing you to stumble slightly; you quickly regain your footing and take your position opposite the coach.
“Time to put what you’ve learnt into practice. I’m not giving you any hints this time; let’s see how long you can last.” Your heart rate speeds up significantly, you’re going to get your ass kicked, there’s no way you can defend yourself from her.
You don’t have much time to voice any objections. “Go!” She yells, quickly stepping forwards and unleashing a flurry of hooks at your upper body. You use your minimal skill (and some luck) to deflect the blows.
She quickly switches it up, aiming towards your head. She manages to sneak a quick jab in before you can react, you step backwards slightly to relieve the pressure and put up your dukes. A few more glancing blows hit the side of your head, but they don’t do much damage.
Gilda’s height advantage is a killer, allowing her to easily switch the angle of her attacks and reign down hits onto you. The one guarantee is that she can’t punch your abdomen, but she can easily put a foot in instead.
She stops for a moment, giving you a short reprieve. Your heart is pounding in your chest like a war drum. “Getting sloppy man, tighten it up!” She commands, hopping back into range. You aren’t caught off guard when she begins to throw kicks, having assumed she’d move away from punches. The kicks are much harder to block, Gilda being easily able to plant a firm strike where ever she wants.
You wheeze slightly as a strong kick strikes you in the ribs, your defense is smashed as you open up to clutch the throbbing muscles. The taste of acid fills your mouth as the exertion begins to catch up with you.
Gilda shakes her head and throws a heavy right hook that you deftly duck under. She smiles at your fast reaction, tentatively throwing a couple more that you barely manage to evade. She nods in approval taking off her gloves and scratching her chin. “Pretty good for a rookie. Gonna’ need to work on your kicking though.”
You sigh in relief and collapse on your back, sucking in large gulps of air to cool down your blazing body. You swallow the foul acid and hack slightly before rolling around on the comparatively cool ground. Gilda snorts at you, coming closer and sitting cross legged. “You seriously need to do some cardio kid.”
“It’s... It’s a work in progress.” You object. She shuffle over and slaps a forceful hand onto your pudgy middle. “Ow!” You hiss looking down at the red hand mark on your stomach.
“Less excuses, more work. You need to get yourself some new lungs shrimp.” Just as she finishes, a flash of realization strikes her features. She grins sweetly and begins to crawl back towards you. You gulp down some sickly tasting saliva and watch curiously as she climbs to her knees, then to her feet in order to stand over you.
She doesn’t say much for a while; simply content to un-nerve you with an impish stare. She looks contemplative for a moment before tightening her will and standing over your head. You don’t quite understand what she is doing, but knowing Gilda it puts you on edge.
Her thick thighs cast a large shadow over your upper body. You swear it’s getting bigger…
No fucking way.
“C-coach what are you…” You object, quickly being silenced by a sweaty hand. Gilda’s lady parts are now parked precariously above the bridge of your nose. You can feel the sweat (You hope its sweat anyway) trickle down the ridges of your nose. Every breath is met with the musky smell of sweat and arousal.
“Listen kid.” She hisses. “Working’ out gets me real pumped up.” She edges closer, rubbing the moist fabric of her yoga pants against the tip of your nose. She coos slightly as she picks up the pace. Her tone slowly begins to become more intense. “Don’t think I didn’t see you staring at me, I’m not an idiot.”
Against your wishes, your cock slowly begins to tighten in your cheap shorts. You can’t help but feel helpless underneath the giant woman, but that only seems to excite you more. “Now, you’re gonna’ get me off. Think of it as another part of your regime.”
With that, she unceremoniously drops down onto your face fully. Your vision goes black as her all-encompassing thighs crush your head and hold you in place. You find it difficult to breathe, and you flap your hands against the ground and mumble out your complaints.
“Wanna’ breathe? Get licking.” She demands, tensing the muscles in her legs. The pressure of the sides of your skull is nearing painful levels. Slowly you reveal your tongue and move it towards the stained fabric.
Your muffled hearing is failing you, but you can almost hear the heavy panting of the strong woman above you. Is she really getting off to this?
The tip of your tongue meets a divergence, staining your taste buds with the salty sensation of hard work and the distinct taste of mature arousal. It’s rather foul and causes you to hesitate, however another quick squeeze from Gilda and you soon begin again.
“C’mon, faster kid.” She moans, grinding her sopping wet cunt against your face. The movement makes it hard to hit the mark. But you soon manage to fall into a rhythm that allows you to break up her grinding with a flurry of strokes.
The fine fabric of the garment causes your tongue to go numb, and soon the taste of sweat fades away into the background allowing you to enjoy the spicy flavor of Gilda’s juices. She doesn’t speak, only moaning and cooing, even go so far as to ruffle your hair condescendingly. Your cock is rock hard by now, but the baggy fit of the cheap shorts help hide your shame.
You hack slightly as it slowly creeps down into your windpipe, but the uncompromising position Gilda has you in leaves no room for complaint. Her moans soon rise in pitch and frequency; in turn you speed up your assault, desperately wishing for a breath of fresh air.
“That’s it kid; keep it up, nearly there.” She yells breathlessly. Like a cobra her thighs tense once again, increasing the pressure. The only thing you can hear is the flow of blood in your own ears, all you can feel is the movement of her moist legs, all you can smell is her juices.
With a screech not far from an eagle she cums, hard. Your face is saturated as a fresh flow of warm juices soak through and dribble down your face, onto your chin and shirt. Your mouth is completely filled, forcing you to swallow it down.
“Yeah, swallow it.” She commands. “It’s good for you.” She adds. It slides down your windpipe like a snake, leaving a full sensation in your stomach. The spicy flavor stings and causes your eyes to water. You’re not quite sure whether it has any benefit, but if it keeps Gilda happy than you don’t have much choice.
Just as quickly as it had started, she hops to her feet and grimaces at the mess she’s made. “Well shit, gonna’ have to dry this out tomorrow.” You lie on the floor breathless from the experience. Gilda nearly looks guilty for a moment before returning to the cool, casual Coach that you know.
“Have fun?” She asks, stretching out. Considering she just sexually assaulted you, she sure is nonchalant. She sniffs the air and grimaces. “Man I sure did a number on this room.”
You nod hesitantly. “Good. Now don’t go telling anybody about this, it’d totally ruin my rep.” You remain speechless. “What’s the matter rookie? Cat got your tongue?”
“D-did that seriously just happen?” You ask in disbelief. “How can you be so casual about this?” You whisper harshly.
“Yeah, and if somebody finds out you can kiss your career goodbye.” You warn, nodding towards the door. “What if somebody just saw this?” You lean back on your elbows and lick your lips.
“Nobody saw anything.” She growls. “Don’t think I’m some kind of serial rapist, I saw how you looked at me.”
“So? I thought you’d write it off as a silly little crush. Not do this!” You exclaim.
“Whatever.”
…
“I don’t believe you.” You whisper. “I saw the doubt, you don’t know if I’m going to run off to the principal and tell her about how you took advantage of me.”
“I don’t.” She admits. You stand and walk towards her as her face quickly falls into doubt. She’s definitely on edge now. You have all the cards, you could easily get her some jail time, maybe even blackmail her.
No… that isn’t right.
“You’re damn lucky Coach.” You say, before turning and walking away. Leaving Gilda to think about what she’d just done. “Next time return the favor.” You shout, slamming the doors.
It’s about time for a nice, cold shower.
Author's Note
this ones for you morph
What the hell were you thinking? Why did you suddenly decide to threaten her? That’ll only make things worse! Where did that last part even come from?
“Next time return the favor.”
Yeah, good job. Just go ahead and ask her to have her way with you again.
It’s not even that problem that gets you angry, but the completely careless way Gilda threw away your concerns. Doesn’t she realize how dangerous this is? She could lose her job and never get the chance at a new one.
You have to admit you like Gilda, and you probably wouldn’t be quite as miffed if she asked you first. She’s spontaneous for sure, but that doesn’t give her the excuse to grind her lady garden all over your face. It led to a close call when your parents asked what the stains down your shirt were; thankfully they believed that it was sweat.
One quick shower later and now you’re fuming in bed. The close proximity to Brad puts you on edge; he could have easily walked back in on your little session and told everybody about it. If they actually listened to him was another thing altogether, but his word would be more than enough to land Gilda in hot water.
It doesn’t matter anyway. If Brad pulls his head out of his ass Gilda won’t get any other opportunities, although you debate whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing.
You rush down the empty corridors of the school, skidding to a hasty stop at the gym doors. You’re late, Mr. Pinkman deciding to give you a detention while the rest of the class screwed around. You swear he has it out for you, it’s not your fault his lessons are so boring!
You reach for the door and rattle it, discovering it to be locked. You look up to spot the note hastily taped to the wood. “Day off. Lessons resume tomorrow.” It reads in chicken scratch writing.
Of course she wouldn’t be here today! She’s probably beating herself up over what happened in the last lesson. You grumble and pull your phone out of your bag in order to ring your mother, so she can pick you up.
You swivel on your toes and head back down the polished corridors. You pass several empty classrooms on the way. You don’t pay much mind to the few cleaners or teachers still milling around after the day.
Before you can reach her ID you hear a crashing noise to your left from the store cupboard where most of the sports equipment is kept. You walk over and place an ear to the green door and frown as you hear a familiar voice. Gilda lets out a few choice curses before silencing herself.
You debate whether or not to talk with her about yesterday. It’s the big elephant in the room, and probably the reason why the lesson is off. You raise a hesitant hand and knock twice. She remains deathly silent, leaving you unsure if she heard it.
You knock again, louder this time. “Coach?” You hazard. “You in there?”
Silence.
Now you’re worried, what if she hurt herself? You reached to the door knob and snarl as you find it locked in place. She locked herself in. You begin to knock even louder. “Coach I know you’re in there! You can’t just hide from me!”
Your knuckles begin to ache from the constant barrage of blows you lay down forcing you to stop. Soon muted footsteps approach from the other side. The jingle of keys heralds the telltale sound of an opening lock.
Gilda says nothing, the footsteps retreating back. You begin to wonder what exactly she’s trying to achieve. You grip the cold doorknob once again and twist it open. The door opens with a squeak to reveal a dark room, surrounded by shelves of various sporting equipment. A thick odor of sweat and dirt fills the air.
In the center, on a metal chair, sits a miserable looking Gilda. Her sullen features shying away from the outside light. Her normally feathered white hair is wild and uncombed. Her signature purple makeup is oddly absent too.
Her exercise clothes have received the same treatment. Dirty grass stains pepper a large white shirt which nearly reaches her knees. A pair of torn stockings and dirty trainers completes the ensemble, although the punk rocker aesthetic doesn’t quite work with the expression she is pulling.
She clenches her fists as you walk up to her, averting her eyes to stare at the shelves. “Coach, why the hell are you in here?” You ask slowly.
She remains silent, her jaw clenching and relaxing repeatedly. Eventually she makes eye contact again and speaks. “Hiding.” She answers intensely.
“From me?”
“Uh-huh.” She responds with a nod.
“Any reason why?” You continue.
“Yesterday.”
…
“Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize to me.” You pat her on the shoulder. You really mean it. You don’t hold any malice towards her for what she did.
“No way Kid.” She fires back with sudden enthusiasm. She stands tall and grabs you by the collar, her breath washing over your face. “This is my fault. Don’t try and pull that sappy bullshit on me. I’m not an idiot who can’t take responsibility for her own actions.” She pushes you away, before sitting herself back down.
“Are you really going to mope in here all day?” You contend. “Doesn’t seem much like the brave, outgoing Gilda that I know.”
“I was nervous all right!” She shouts, her words dying away as she admits weakness. She motions to you with a limp hand. “There it is. That’s me. Little old nervous Gilda, scared of a damn student. Happy now?”
“This isn’t a contest.” You assert. “You could have talked to me in the first place, without hiding from the problem like it’d just go away after a while.” You walk up to her again. “I’m not going to blackmail you or anything.”
“How was I supposed to know that? I’m not psychic.” She responds. “I guess I am worrying too much over it. You’re a good kid; I can trust you to keep a secret.”
“Sure.” You turn to walk away, but a firm hand grasps your shoulder.
Gilda smirks, grabbing you and pulling you into her body. “Then you won’t mind if I return the favor then?” You’re parked on top of her bulbous thighs and held tight against her large breasts. You can feel the rock hard muscles pressing against your skin like concrete.
“W-what if somebody walks in?” You stammer with a furious blush.
“Don’t worry about it.” She coos, fondling your hardening cock through the material of your sweatpants. You squirm slightly but her one of her strong arms act as a vice grip over your chest, preventing you from escaping. You hate to admit it but you’re really enjoying the attention.
An errant hand slips under your shirt. You shiver as her hand rubs against your skin, pressing down at different points. “You’re developing nicely.” Gilda purrs into your ear. “I’m sure you’ll be getting all the ladies by the time I’m through with you.” She rubs your chest, feeling at the developing muscle that had emerged since you began her training.
Her hand slips into your pants, pulling them down to give her access to your stiff member. With a light touch she slowly begins to stroke up and down your shaft. You groan and lean back, your head resting against her tits. Gilda takes the opportunity, nipping and biting your ear lobe. “We’ve got all the time we need.” She whispers huskily. “We could do this for hours, and nobody would know.”
Her hand tightens, speeding up slightly. “Keeping you on edge, ready for that ball bursting release.” She stops, returning to the light touch from before. “Only to fly back again.” You shake your head, hoping that she doesn’t fulfill her promise. You’re left helpless as the amazon cups your balls leaving your cock unattended, kneading and squeezing the soft flesh. “I hope you’ve been saving up kid. I want you to hit the door from here.”
A damp patch begins to form on the surface of her leggings. She bites her lip to hold back a moan as she plays with you. Her thighs move slightly as they rub together in an attempt to stimulate her blazing mound. You can feel the heat through your pants.
“You feel that kid? How horny you’ve made me? Coming in here alone and vulnerable so I can play with you like a toy?” Her hand moves away from your balls and back to leisurely stroking you. Your dick twitches with every light caress and touch, hyper sensitive from the orgasm denial Gilda is inflicting.
This goes on for at least half an hour with no sign of stopping. Gilda holds you in silence as she fondles and tugs at your genitals. Gilda has soaked the wooden chair with her honey; her ragged breath tells you that she’s getting close just from the situation.
Her grip hardens around your cock, letting you rise once again. This time she doesn’t show any sign of slowing down. “C’mon, show me how far you can go.” She jibes. You quake slightly as your balls pull taught against your body. You can feel a powerful surge of cum pump itself down your urethra, before blasting from the tip of your swollen cock. Thick sticky streams pump seemingly relentlessly. It isn’t quite enough to hit the door like Gilda wanted but it certainly left an impression. The streaks nearly run the length of the room.
“Wow.” Was all she could say. “I wasn’t being serious about hitting the door you know?” She said cheekily. You can’t find the strength to answer after such an explosive orgasm, so you simple roll your slightly on her mounds and drool slightly. Cum continues to run down your cock, coating Gilda’s hand and staining itself onto her black tights.
You regain your senses and chuckle nervously at the mess you created. Gilda pushes you from her lap and down onto your knees, you twist to face her, getting a close look at her powerful legs. They’re still contained within the tights, but are now stained with wads of your cum. Gilda sighs and shakes her head. “Look at the mess you made.” You don’t like where this is going. “You’re going to have to clean up kid.”
Your eyes widen as you look at her smirking visage. A rough hand grips your hair and pushes you forwards into her monolithic thighs. The smell of cum and sweat are heavy in your nostrils as she guide you to one stain near her knee. She takes it even further, pushing you into it and smearing it across your face. This is disgusting! “Lick me clean.” She demands.
Your slowly reach out with the tip of your tongue. You lightly touch the surface of the nearest blob and gag slightly at the slimy texture. You have to do this fast, like ripping off a Band-Aid. You take a deep breath and quickly slide your tongue under it, lifting it away from the rough fabric and forcing it down your gullet.
The taste is disgusting. You retch and struggle to keep it down. Knowing it’s your own only makes it worse. You reluctantly continue, thankful that the taste of Gilda’s not quite as gross sweat is there to mask the taste of your own semen.
It’s a tough process. It takes you nearly ten minutes to finally finish. Gilda looks down and smiles condescendingly. “Such a good boy.” She says in a mock posh accent. “Cleaning up his accidents.” Gilda pushes you away with a foot, forcing you onto your ass. She stands and stretches provocatively, showing of her defined abs and thick arms.
She turns around to face the chair, bending over provocatively. Her huge ass is only a short distance away from your face. The contours of her lips are clearly defined through the thin fabric of the stockings. She isn’t wearing any underwear?
You get your answer as she reaches back and rips into the stocking, revealing her weeping sex. The open window quickly brings you back to attention. “Alright, time for the main event.” She wiggles her huge ass side to side. “I doubt that your tiny prick can get me off though.”
You growl and leap to your feet. You quickly line up your hardness but at the last moment you decide to tease her for a bit. You purposefully miss and slide underneath her, covering your dick in her warm juices. She groans. “C’mon, don’t fuck with me kid!” You chuckle and do it again, sawing your turgid member between her puffy outer lips.
Before she can shout out another complaint you plunge in. You’re surprised at just how tight she feels. The powerful muscles from her years of training instantly grab your dick in a vice grip that makes it hard to move further. “Yes!” She throws her head back in ecstasy as you slowly push further. “Fuck me with that little cock!”
Her demeaning talk would normally kill your boner faster than a woodwork lesson, but coming from the amazonian goddess in front of you it only goads you on. You manage to hilt her; you stop for a moment to cool down. Her insides are so warm that you nearly came there and then. Her walls press against your meat, compressing and caressing the sensitive nerves. It sends tingles down your spine.
You lean onto her back, her large stature easily able to accommodate your frankly small body. You slowly begin to pull out as her walls attempt to drag you back in. You pump back into her with a mighty thrust causing Gilda to scream in pleasure. Again and again, the two of you fucking like dogs in heat.
You reach around her chest and grab a handful of her colossal tits, squeezing them through her cheap white shirt. You pinch and roll her rock hard nipples in-between her fingers. “T-that’s it kid! Keep it up and I might cum.”
Your ballsack slaps against her as you speed up. She wants to cum; she’s going to get it. A competitive streak in your mind has been brought out by her. You want to prove her wrong and show her just how much of a good student you are. You aren’t getting pushed around by Brad anymore. You’re bending over the hottest woman in school.
You can’t last forever though and you feel your climax approaching. Gilda hasn’t given any indication to her being finished, so you slow down again. The feeling recedes and you can’t help but be thankful for the ball busting hand job she gave you earlier.
You snake your hands underneath her shirt, feeling the bare skin of her breast. You knead and squeeze them, enjoying the feeling of the soft flesh in your palms. Gilda seems to be enjoying it too, moaning and squirming at your ministrations, pretty good for a first timer.
“Alright kid, get me off! Destroy my pussy!” The cliché porn talk gets a laugh out of you. You oblige and speed up again. You really start to pound into her. Using her breast as a leverage point for the insane amount of force you’re putting into each thrust. A squelching sound becomes prominent as you slowly begin to build towards a second orgasm.
Gilda is nearly screaming. She jabbers incomprehensibly as your sweaty bodies rub together. “Do it kid, breed me like the bitch I am!”
You never knew Gilda was into this kind of thing, not that you’re complaining. You yell as you slam inside one last time, nearly pushing Gilda of the chair. Thick streams of your cum blast into her receptive pussy. Her walls massaging it as a few paltry dribbles follow. The feeling of the weak kid coming inside her pushed Gilda off the edge. She screams as a flood of juices splatter across your crotch. She’s definitely a squirter.
Considering the buildup the final moments were kind of disappointing. You pull your flaccid cock from her folds, a small trail of cum runs down her valley and dribbles onto the floor. You have no idea how you managed to cum so much twice in a row. Gilda stands up, straightens out her shirt to cover her abused vagina and turns to you with a dopey smile on her face. You can still see the occasional drop of baby batter fall from her, but she doesn’t seem to care. She had been going commando after all.
She roughly grips you again and pulls you into an aggressive kiss. Her tongue quickly overpowers yours and snakes down your throat causing you to gag slightly. She pushes you back when she’s done molesting your throat. “Good work.”
You reach down and pull up your trousers. Thankfully they were unharmed by Gilda’s explosive orgasm. She crosses her arms and walks to the door. “Really good work. In fact, you might find a new piece of work on your regime.”
“Don’t you mean regimen?” You ask.
“No.” she smirks. She waltzes over and grips your tender cock and balls through your jogging pants. “These belong to me now squirt. You don’t have any hang-ups about this? Good because we’re going to be doing this more often.” You wince as her grip tightens. “Understood?”
You nod hoping for the pressure on your sensitive manhood to dissipate. She releases your scrotum and walks away waving as she goes.
Okay, maybe that got you a little hot under the collar. At least she isn’t scared of you anymore. You’re afraid. This little game of dominance tennis between the two of you could really get out of hand. What if somebody finds out? You slap yourself. Calm down! Just tell her, she’ll understand. Maybe tone down the flirting to keep the heat off you.
You chuckle bitterly, fat chance.
