Taken by My Softball Coach

We looked up at the scoreboard, 3-1 it read and I was devastated. The other girls on my team were upset and my coach just looked downright pissed off. I will admit it wasn't my best game. I struck out twice, missed a fly ball out in Left Field and was just generally not interested in the game.

Before you get all accusatory, it's not because I suck at Softball, quite the opposite actually. I have several D-1 scholarships I just hadn't committed to a school yet. Here I am, sitting on the end of the bench in the dugout looking at the field, hearing the Umpire shout "You're out" in the bottom of the 9th, and just like that it was all over. That dropped our record to 25-14 with a win percentage of.398 which isn't terrible but it could be better.

As we all filed out of the dugout to shake our opponents hands for a good game, we all made our way to the looker room. I sat on the bench by my locker and just stared at the floor. Coach went into her office and the other girls on the team started taking off their uniforms and getting themselves prepared to shower and call it a night. I'm usually the last one to leave the locker room anyways so me being the last one was no surprise to anybody. I finally got up, took off my uniform and went to the showers. As I stood there letting the water cascade down my body I got my shower gel and my loofah and began cleaning the stench of defeat from my body.

After washing my body, I got my shampoo, squirted it in my hands, and starting running it through my brownish-blond hair. After rinsing off I got out of the shower and went back to my locker to put on my clothes so I could leave. I had just tied the last shoelace on my brand new Jordan 5s which were my school's colors black and red, I headed for the locker room door. I got just about halfway there, passing Coach's office when her door opened and she emerged.

"Skylar, don't leave just yet. I want to discuss something with you."

I turned around and headed towards the door marked Coach McMichaels and once inside I took a seat on the couch inside her office. Now usually when Coach wants to talk to one of us we sit on the couch and she sits behind her desk but on this night she came and sat right next to me on the sofa. I didn't know what to make of it but when I looked into her eyes I could see the worry on her face.

"Skylar, she began, I've been concerned about you for the past 2 weeks. Ever since you broke up with Marshall your play on the field has seriously declined. Is there anything you want to tell me honey"?

Honey? I was super confused now. Coach wasn't exactly mean, but she was strict and she had a model of how she wanted us to play the game. She never addressed us by any type of pet name but here she is calling me Honey. Now before you all get on my case about a boy being the reason I've been playing so bad you don't know Marshall.

He's nice and tall. Actually an entire foot taller than me at 6'2 to my 5'2 frame. He's muscular with the nicest set of washboard abs you just want to lay your head on, which I did very often. He was nice and tan but he didn't tan. He was mixed, his mother was white and his father was black hence the name Marshall (after Thurgood Marshall). He was sweet. He would always remember my birthday even though I've forgotten his a time or two, and our anniversary, and he would always buy me purple tulips because he knows they're my favorite flowers and a Snickers bar because he knows that's my favorite candy.

He was just a sweetheart and he was so damn smart. He had a 4.0 GPA and was sure to be named Salutatorian at graduation. Now comes the bad part. He had a full ride scholarship to Princeton University. That part isn't particularly bad because as smart as he is, I wouldn't have expected anything less, but the problem is Princeton is on the other side of the country in New Jersey and we live in California. By now, I'm sure you can guess why we broke up. He didn't want to do the whole long distance thing which I understood, but didn't make it any less heartbreaking.

I looked at Coach McMichaels and even though I knew she was right, it kind of upset me that she would bring it up as an excuse for my poor performances. I guess she could feel the anger welling up inside and I'm sure she felt the anger I was letting off because she gently placed her hand on my arm and patted it.

"Skylar, it is perfectly fine to be upset after a break up, especially since you all dated for so long."

Sidenote: We started dating in 7th Grade and had been together up until Senior year so that's 4 1/2 years.

Again, even though I knew she was right, I was still angry and not even at her. I was angry at Marshall because he had dumped me in the cafeteria 3 weeks before Spring Break when we were supposed to go to Malibu. I was angry at myself for being as angry as I was and in the immortal words of my Grammy May

"Girl get the fuck over it."

Literally her words, not an interpretation. For the next 15 minutes while Coach McMichaels was talking I didn't hear a word of it because I was so zoned out but I do remember my eyes welling up with tears at the mere thought of Marshall but also as she was talking she started rubbing up and down my arm with her hand.

"Skylar? Skylar? SKYLAR!!!!!!"

I snapped back into focus.

"I'm sorry Coach, I was kind of spacing out there. I hear what you're saying and I agree but dating somebody for over four years isn't exactly something you can get over instantaneously."

"No matter what Grammy says, God rest her soul."

That last part I said in my head. Coach sighed and patted my arm again.

"I understand completely how you feel. When my husband and I divorced, I was devastated. I quit playing softball and just lived a mundane life until this opportunity came. Believe me when I say I know exactly what you're feeling right now, but I see you out on the field, here in the locker room, or just around school and you just look so defeated."

I looked at her, my eyes got wide. Is that really what she sees when she looks at me? A defeated girl? If there was one thing I learned from my Mom and Grammy was to NEVER look like you've given up even if you want to. Fuck this, I had to get out of this slump and fast before I spiraled out of control.

"Coach I hear you and I promise I'll do better."

"That's good to hear, she said, but I did want to ask you a sort of personal question."

I looked at her and now I was the one who was worried? What kind of personal question did she have in her mind? I shook my head and braced for what was to come.

"I just wanted to ask, since you and Marshall have broken up, how are you handling certain urges"?

I couldn't believe my ears!!!!! Was my Softball Coach really asking me if I'm getting off since my break up? My eyes got wider this time. I don't know if it was from the shock of the question or the embarrassment that I hadn't. Maybe it's a little of both.

I've always been a sexual person and no that doesn't translate to slut. I've only had sex with one person and you all know who that is. The thing is Marshall, for all his redeeming qualities, he seriously lacked in the sex department. Now I'm not saying he had a tiny dick, but he couldn't last and he was so predictable. We would make out and I could feel him start to get hard. Then he took off his clothes, never took mine off, and would jerk his dick to get it hard enough.

Then he would lay me on my back in missionary and that was our sex. The only time he changed positions was when he was about to cum and it was always doggystyle, but I never got any pleasure from it because one or two pumps later he would cum and yes for the people in the back I absolutely love creampies. If that makes me a slut then it is what it is. Luckily for me, my mom was an even bigger slut, so she always kept Plan B pills in the cabinet in her bathroom, so after sex with Marshall I would masturbate (the only way I would ever get an orgasm. Seriously he didn't even eat my pussy) and then pop a plan B pill before bed.

For the past 2 1/2 years it's worked but back to my love for creampies. Just the feeling of his hot cum leaking out of my pussy really did something to me. He may not have been a long lover but he sure as hell came a lot. Even after the initial shock of Coach McMichaels' question I actually did ponder that. Usually I would masturbate if not every night, every other night but since my break up I had been too heartbroken to. I looked at her and then put my head down and replied

"I haven't been. It's been almost a month and I haven't done anything."

That admission seemed to surprise her but then the weirdest thing happened. She started to laugh. I could feel my anger boiling up inside again. The nerve of this bitch to laugh at me after I just revealed one of the most intimate things about myself. Yet again she could see the anger on my face, my poker face sucks ass, Fuck. Then she stopped laughing and put her hand back on my arm.

"I'm sorry sweetie, I didn't mean to laugh. However I think I've figured out what the problem is. Why you walk around moping, and why your game has been so bad these past few weeks."

I was still pretty pissed off that she had laughed at me so I was real interested in what she was gonna say. Now this night has already been weird enough with her patting my arm and asking me questions about my sex life, but what happened next took the cake. Suddenly she looked at me with this grin I knew all too well. I used to do it to Marshall and he would cave every single time without fail.

My jaw dropped, literally. My mouth was open and I was trying to say words but it wasn't translating from my brain to my vocal cords. I was somehow mesmerized by her eyes and seductive ass grin. I really need to stop letting my emotions show so easily. Now before we continue I would like to point out I'm not a lesbian, although I've had one lesbian experience.

It was at a party right after my 18th birthday. Marshall's parents were out of town celebrating their anniversary so he had a small get together at his house. His older brother Malcolm, (yes he has those type of parents where all their kids names have to start with the same letter, they have an older sister named Michelle who lives in Chicago), got us some booze and we sat around in the living room drinking for the majority of the night so it wasn't really a party. More so a vibe session because there was alcohol and a lot of weed. We moved the get together from the living room to outside by the pool, so not to get the weed smell in the house.

That was one of the things I loved about going to Marshall's house, they had a pool. Malcolm fired up about 3 joints and we passed them around, drinking and laughing playing games like "Truth or Dare" and "Never Have I Ever." One of my teammates from softball, Chloe, when it was her turn gave the cliche "Never Have I Ever kissed a girl." We all groaned because obviously none of us girls had kissed another girl before so we had to take a swig of beer as per the rules of the game.

Some time went by and then we all just kind of got quiet. The music was playing on the speaker out on the deck and Malcolm was still passing blunts around. Mind you I had never smoked weed before that night so the first couple of times I hacked when I took a puff but as the night progressed I got better. I was a quick learner when it came to stuff like that. Damn my mother and her old college party days.

I got up to go to the bathroom and once inside, I did my business and then looked in the mirror. My eyes were red and the top that I had worn to show off my perfectly placed C cup breasts were a little too visible so I adjusted my shirt to hide them a little bit. Suddenly I heard the bathroom door open and somebody step in the room and turn out the light. I almost had a panic attack. Maybe one of Malcolm's college friends saw me going to the bathroom and he was gonna take this opportunity to force himself on me. I was ready to fight, even though I'm only 5'2 I wasn't gonna make it easy for him, but before I could turn around and confront whoever was in the bathroom with me, two arms wrapped around my waist and I got a whiff of an all too familiar lilac and jasmine perfume. It was Chloe. Then I was probably more annoyed than anything.

"Chloe, what the entire fuck? You scared the shit out of me. I thought you were a guy trying to get some."

The rest of that story I'll save for another time. I must have been thinking too hard about the Chloe incident because the next thing I knew I felt lips on my cheek. Coach McMichaels was gently placing kisses on my cheek. I thought I would be disgusted but I actually enjoyed it. Her lips were so soft and they actually felt good.

She started to kiss down my cheek, under my chin and then started to kiss my neck. Shit, that's my spot. She figured that out real quickly because when she kissed my neck the first time, a small moan escaped my lips. Now my vocal cords want to work. Her neck kisses were really starting to turn me on and I thought to myself

"What is wrong with me? I don't like women. I'm straight, well except for the incident with Chloe, but other than that."

but it seems that this particular woman, my Softball Coach was kissing me on the neck and my pussy was getting wet. I had to stop this. To be continued...