"COACH SAMUEL!" she squealed and stood up, turning around.
"Oh .. um sorry" he mumbled. He explained about the towel. She remembered seeing her boyfriend do the same thing and laughed. "It's OK, coach. It's no big deal." She got back down and waved her ass at him. "Ready coach" she yelled.
He re-approached her butt and, since the skirt was in his way and she had said it was OK, he flipped it up again. Several of the girls giggled. He got flustered and, without thinking again, slapped his hand up between his center's legs. He was used to hitting an athlete's hard ass covered by tightly stretched uniform pants, with a cup underneath.
What his hand plowed into instead was soft pussy.
"EEK!" squealed Tiffany again, but she didn't stand up. She did flex her knees a little, pressing down onto his hand. He had enough sense of presence to yell the numbers and she slapped the ball in his hand with all the force of a starting center. The girls all stood up. Two ran forward. The guards looked around. His backs just stood there. The two who ran forward started jumping all over the field, yelling that they were open. He sighed. It was supposed to be a running play.
Tiffany ran up to him. "Um .. coach? Where you touched me?"
'Oh shit, here it comes' he thought to himself.
"I understand that that's where I should put the ball when I hike it, right?
He sighed with relief and nodded. Yes, it was going to be a long three weeks.
The next play, Tiffany bent over and waved her butt at him again, from side to side. This time he put his hand between her legs, but didn't touch her. She hiked the ball into his hand so hard, though, that she drove the back of his hand into her pussy. And she pushed down on his hand at the same time. When the play was over she came up to him. "Coach, If you don't touch me I can't feel where your hand is. I might not hike it right. So don't worry about ... things. OK?"
The next play, when he looked right, Susan was offsides and he had to yell at her to back up. In the process he forgot about Tiffany's pussy and when he planted his left hand he once again smacked her soft puss. This time she didn't make a sound. She just waved her ass while his hand was stuck between her legs.
"If I didn't know better" he thought to himself "I'd swear she's trying to rub her pussy on my hand!" Again, she slammed the ball into his hand just as well as any college bound senior could have. He thought, errantly as he threw the ball to Nicole, that if he'd jerked his hand out she'd have bruised that puffy little pussy of hers with that ball.
He blew the whistle, calling it a day and the girls all ran off the field hooting and hollering, some of them doing cartwheels and flips. Cheerleaders! They were cursed with endless energy and perkiness! He walked off the field thinking that soccer shoes might give them the traction they'd need for the game. What to do about uniforms, though. That was the question.
Estelle, Susan's mother, came to see him at school the next morning. She was a short athletic woman who wore her auburn hair in a pony tail. She was in good shape and had an ass to die for. She sheathed that ass in tight pants, like the ones she was wearing today. She pulled what might pass for a football jersey out of her bag and held it up for him to see. It was in the school colors of purple and orange and, in big letters across the back were the words "SAMUEL'S PIRETTES". "Get it?" she gushed. "Pirates ... Pirettes? Isn't it just so COOL?" On the shoulders were the numbers 1/7. "See, we decided to use fractions, instead of regular numbers. Aren't they just DARLING?"
"I don't understand" said Sam slowly.
"They're for the GIRLS!" cooed Estelle. "The mothers all got together and had them made! See? They can just drop them over their cheerleader uniforms. That way they won't have to change clothes. We can start the game as soon as the field is cleared for half time." She turned the jersey this way and that, admiring it.
"SAMUEL'S pirates?" he said. "Why SAMUEL'S?"
"No, SI - RETTES. You know, like Rock-ettes. It's a play on words ... that they're girls ? ..."
"I understand that part, Mrs. Ong. Why did you use MY name?"
"Oh!" she laughed. "They're YOUR team, coach Samuel. I mean you're training them, right? And they're running YOUR plays, right? YOU are their coach. Besides, all the girls talk about how great a coach you are, and how you're their favorite teacher and all that. "We spoke to the administration, and they've agreed to let you be the quarterback for the game. I mean, it wouldn't be fair to expect one of the girls to try to learn that much before the game, right?"
He thought about it. It wouldn't do any good to complain. And they'd already had the damn things made up. This was getting worse and worse. Then he had an idea. Her held up the jersey. They'd designed it so it could be worn over the normal cheerleading outfit. That meant the girls would be wearing their cheerleading skirts during the game. He pointed that out and cautioned that, since it was going to be a flag football game, that someone grabbing for a flapping flag might accidentally grab skirt instead, and that it could be embarrassing.
His hopes were dashed when Estelle said she didn't think anything like that would happen, and besides, it was all for fun and only a short game.
That evening, when the girls gathered for practice and he flipped up Tiffany's skirt, she was wearing plain cotton bikini panties, instead of her cheerleading panties. He stood there, staring.
She bent over further, looking up at him from between her legs. "The others needed to be washed, coach. Don't worry about it."
Now when he planted his hand in her crotch, he felt the spring of flesh being compressed and bouncing back out. He remembered how pouty her pussy lips had looked in the shower, sticking out, gaping open, dripping sperm. Suddenly Coach Samuel had a raging hardon.
He called running plays so he could stay bent over. He ran them through four plays before admitting to himself that if he mashed his hand against Tiffany's almost naked pussy again he'd blow in his shorts. He blew the whistle. "Hit the showers" he yelled. As he entered his office he heard the showers running. All those bouncy naked teenage girls in there, wet ... slick ... naked ...