Seeing The Coach Naked - Doing Her Hot Older Neighbor - Part 1

1897 Words
A really hot guy moved into my neighborhood the summer between my freshman and sophomore years of college. He was in his late 30's, about 190 pounds, a hunky 6'1" with light brown hair and a well sculpted body. As I watched him move boxes from across the street, the stud glanced over and gave a half-wave which I returned. Then he took off his sweaty tee-shirt and revealed a hairy chest glistening with the sweat from all his work. I wondered what it would be like at that very moment to have his strong arms pull me against his muscular body. Just then, his wife came out of the house and handed him what I assumed was a glass of lemonade. He drained the glass in one gulp and handed it back to her. He leaned in to give her a hug, but she pushed him away, holding him at arm's length. I figured she didn't want him to get his hot, sweaty chest on her blouse. For a moment, I imagined myself as her, standing next to that f*****g gorgeous stud. In my version, I wouldn't push that hunk away. Hell no! I'd reach over and run my fingers through his manly chest hair. He'd reach around me, put his hand around the back of my head, pulling me closer to him. Our lips would lock in a passionate kiss. I blinked and shook my head trying to clear the tantalizing image from my mind. For the second time in as many minutes, I told myself to get a reality check. I had never been into older guys. Sure, I could appreciate a hot daddy type as much as the next girl if I passed one on the street. But to think of one actually touching me? To picture us in s****l situations? No, that never entered my girly nineteen-year-old mind until I saw that new neighbor. Hell, I had a boyfriend, even if he was young and inexperienced. He thought he was the world's greatest lover – as all nineteen year old guys do. As any young woman can tell you, they're all wrong! He didn't have a clue. Everything in bed was all about him. His c**k, his balls, his pleasure. I was like, f**k, I do have a body of my own and it has needs too. One day I read an article in a "stupid chick magazine" (as he called it) about how to discuss your s****l needs, wants, and likes with your partner. I followed every single point in the article. It all turned out pointless. The article said discussing that stuff would bring us closer together. Instead, he just got horny and demanded that I get him off at that moment. He proceeded to act just as sloppy and self-centered in bed as always. As soon as he blew his load, he didn't give a s**t about what I needed or wanted – as usual. OK, so I kind of lied earlier when I said I had never thought about an older guy before in a s****l way. I didn't even tell my friends about this, though. I only wrote it in my diary. Then I ripped out the page, crumpled it up, and tossed it in the trash. It was a total accident, I swear. Let me start at the beginning... We cheerleaders would share the campus playing field with football players. They stayed on their end and we stayed on ours, but of course, both sides snuck glances at the other whenever possible. The football coach had let the guys go early from practice that evening. My cheerleading coach kept us ladies even later than usual. By the time we got back to the athletic building (which we all shared), the guys had already cleared out. The male and female facilities were on opposite sides of the large building, but college football players are noisy. If there had been any left, we would have heard them. "Brittany," my cheerleading coach called as I left the ladies' locker room. "Would you do me a favor? The mail office delivered a catalog meant for Coach Hawkins to me again. That happens like once a week." She flipped through the catalog before she handed it to me. She continued, "I mean, I don't know what the mail office guys expect you girls to do with jockstraps!" I had to cough to cover the laugh! Believe me, my fellow cheerleaders and I could think of plenty of things to do with a football player's jockstrap...especially if a hunky athlete was in it at the time! "Sure, I can take the catalog over for you," I said. "Coach Hawkins should be gone by now so just leave the catalog on his desk if his office is open or on the floor by the door if it's locked." I walked over to the other side of the facility. I peeked through the open door to the coach's deserted office. I tossed the catalog on his desk. I should have just left and walked out to my car. Instead, I looked down the empty hallway that led towards the showers and locker room. I had never seen a guy's locker room before in person. I wondered if they looked the same as on TV. "Everybody's gone," I mumbled to myself. "What could it hurt to look around?" Just as an extra precaution, I tip-toed down the hall. It seemed like the smart thing to do. I rounded the corner into the empty locker area. Lockers and benches filled three walls. Everything looked gray, dirty, and dingy. Nothing like the pretty pastel colors and clean conditions in the female locker room. Also, it had the distinctive smell of masculine sweat. I know that most other girls don't really care for that, but I have to admit that I inhaled deeply. There's something that drives me wild about the way a guy smells when he's been working out hard. I heard a noise. Whistling! "Must be the janitor," I whispered to myself. I looked around for a place to hide. I couldn't let the janitor find me in there. Imagine if word got around campus that a cheerleader got caught in the boys' locker room! A break between the lockers in one dark corner caught my eye. I could definitely fit in there. I hurried across the tiled floor. With the fluorescent light burned out near that corner and the wooden bench blocking the area too, I ducked down so the janitor wouldn't see me. My heart raced. I peeked out around the corner of the locker and peered over the bench. The whistling got louder. It wasn't the janitor after all. Coach Hawkins came strolling out of the showers into the locker room – completely dripping wet and totally naked! Boy, did I get an eyeful! Literally! The coach's huge prick swung back and forth as he walked and whistled his way towards the bench where he'd left a towel. From my kneeling position on the floor, his c**k dangled right at my eye level. He swiveled the towel around his body to dry off his back. His gigantic piece of meat whipped around as the guy shifted his weight between each leg. I looked up. My eyes traveled from his worked-out arms to his hairy, muscled chest. Then they swept down his rippled stomach. f**k! He had better abs than some of the football players. Of course, I didn't stare at the abs for long when that prick practically begged for me to prove I knew how to handle it. I couldn't even believe my own body's reaction. No denying it... I experienced what my friends jokingly call "lady wood." Thank goodness I'd changed out of the cheerleader outfit into jeans. I would have died if I felt any of the wetness slipping down my legs. I was embarrassed and horned up all at the same time. How could I be so turned on by Coach Hawkins, a forty-five year old man? That's the same age as my father! That would give being called a "daddy's girl" a whole new meaning! I held my breath while the coach walked closer to my hiding place. Had I been caught? What would I have to do to make him keep my secret? "Hey coach," a voice called from the door. A burly, uniformed maintenance guy carrying a toolbox stepped through the doorway. Coach Hawkins turned away from me and towards the entrance. "Hi, Fred. You're working late tonight." "I need the overtime. Works out so I can get that shower head fixed before tomorrow's game." "Come on, I'll show you which one," Coach Hawkins told him. I watched in awe as totally nude Coach Hawkins led the maintenance guy into the other room. His ass cheeks still glistened from where he missed a spot with the towel. Neither one of the guys seemed bothered by the fact that Coach Hawkins held that conversation in the buff. I couldn't believe how free men were about being naked in front of each other. We'd never do that in the ladies' locker room. We had individual changing stalls for privacy. With both men out of sight, I booked it out of there. They never saw me. Of course, I could never look at Coach Hawkins again during the rest of the football season without imagining (wishing?) what might have happened between us if Fred, the maintenance guy, hadn't shown up. Anyway, on that hot summer day when I watched the hot guy moving in across the street, it had been many months since the locker room incident. I had never (For real this time!) entertained s****l thoughts about another older man again until I saw that new neighbor. I pretended to tend to my mother's flower garden while I kept glancing over to watch the new neighbor's muscles flex as he moved those heavy boxes. As it got dark and the sun went down, I wished he would go down on me. Instead of indulging in that fantasy, I decided to go in the house and get ready for my date with my boyfriend. He picked me up a couple hours later. As usual, his horny mood took priority over everything else. He pushed me on the couch and practically pawed at my chest – also like usual. He reached down and started rubbing the outside of his tight jeans, playing with the outline of his growing bulge. I wasn't into it for some reason. I just couldn't get excited from his selfish groping. He seemed so small – and I don't mean the size of his prick or muscles. Both of those aspects were more than adequate. I mean his immaturity had become apparent. I realized I had outgrown him. I wanted a real man with worldly experience. An older man. Like Coach Hawkins. Like my new neighbor. I couldn't believe I had just admitted that to myself. "Come on, Brittany," my boyfriend said. "What other girl in town has 6 feet of rock hard solid muscle in front of her like this?" He unbuttoned my shirt and traced my n*****s with his clumsy fingertips. "I love your big boobs," he said as he threw his face into my chest. His tongue licked my t**s up and down.
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