Crash Course - 2

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 barley 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.
“What’s the problem kid? You get laid, I get off.”

“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.