Meeting with the Coach

by

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, NonConsensual, Reluctant, Coercion, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Cheating, DomSub, Spanking, Rough, Light Bond, Humiliation, Sadistic, Interracial, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Petting, Violent, .

Desc: Sex Story: Maria has caught her husband cheating on her. She has spied on him and saw him getting a blowjob in his car from the new Swedish babe who teaches at the same school with him. She confronts the home-wrecker, and is confident that her speech will drive her away. Instead, she unleashes a Pandora's box. One unfortunate woman pays in pain and submission, punished brutaly and unrelenting catfight, and made to suffer humiliating indignities afterward.

The silky-haired brunette lowered the camera to her lap again. The woman had just lifted her head from her husband's lap, and it looked like they were talking. Now the passenger door opened. She had all but one picture she needed. Her hands trembled as she lifted the camera again, zooming in on her husband's car, waiting for the unknown bimbo to get out so she could identify her. A pair of long swung out and Maria snapped two more pictures from the 35mm Nikon as she turned, leaned in and blew her husband a kiss goodbye. Maria grimaced, whispering, "cunt" as she recognized her. She was almost sure that her husband's lover was the female gym teacher and track coach. Tall, blonde, and from Sweden, she had just come to the school this year, and was an instant hit. Apparently, with the other teachers, too.

Dan, who taught chemistry and coached water polo, had been staying late at the school to "grade papers" and "prepare for the upcoming playoffs". Yeah, he was preparing all right. She watched in disgust as the lofty Swedish home-wrecker tossed her blonde hair to one side, opened the door to her car, and climbed in. Her two-timing husband backed out of his space and headed out of the school parking lot.

Maria went to the gym, locked herself in a stall, and had a good, long cry. After that, she sat on the toilet, regaining her composure. Then she planned the meeting.


She decided to wear something simple, not extravagant, but also that showed Miss Sweden that she had plenty to keep her husband happy. Venezuelan-born Maria Foster had a lovely little body packed into her 5'4" frame. Not big in the bust, but neither was her Scandinavian counterpart, and she would put her pert little bottom up against anyone's: it was as tight and curvaceous as it was 8 years ago when she and Dan were married at the tender age of 21. She chose a pair of very short denim shorts, high-heeled sandals, and a simple, pink cotton sleeveless pullover without a bra. This hussy needed to see that the wife's breasts were perky and in great shape without any help whatsoever. Her dark brown hair dangled on her shoulders, and she added a dark lavender touch to her eye shadow. She was going to meet with a woman, and the woman needed to see beauty, along with strength of character. The darker-than-usual eyeliner gave her a night time look that she thought conveyed just the proper suggestion of a woman who knows how to attract and keep her man.

She walked up to Ingrid Johansson just as the coach finished her daily run around the field, after all her track students had left. It was about 5pm.

"Hello, Miss Johansson," she smiled as the leggy blonde dabbed her neck and forehead with a towel.

"Hello," Ingrid flashed a brief smile. "What can I help you with?"

"My name is Maria. Maria Foster."

Ingrid kept walking and nodded, as if she were about to hear a complaint from a mother about her daughter not getting enough of a role on the track team.

"Oh, you're going to play dumb with me?" Maria asked, stopping in between the two portables near the phys ed building.

Ingrid stopped, turned and looked at her. The blonde hair was in a ponytail, and sweat darkened her midriff cut gym shirt, and the waist of her tiny running shorts, which were cut so tight they looked more like large panties. Her blue eyes bore into Maria's without a word.

"I know about you and my husband, so let's just cut all the play-acting," Maria said, folding her arms.

Ingrid glanced briefly at the ground, then brought her eyes back up to the attractive, olive-skinned Maria. "I see..." she said, nodding.

"I'm coming to you as a woman, hoping to appeal to another woman's senses," Maria went on. "It's simple. I could be a bitch, and give these pictures to the principal--" she held up her Nikon camera and then stuffed it back in her purse--" and your teaching career, along with Dan's, would be in ruins. I saw you with him last night. What's in this camera leaves little doubt about what was going on in my husband's car." Maria nodded toward the parking lot where she had seen the last few moments of an apparent blow-job the night before.

Ingrid said nothing, just stood, her arms folded, her thin lips slightly pursed in concentration.

"The easiest route here," Maria said, her plan unfolding just as she had hoped, "is for you to consider Dan a memory. Dan transfers to another school, nothing is ever said, and you never see me--or him--again. I trust that you will agree with me on that."

Ingrid looked at the ground again. It was working. Dignity, diplomacy, Maria's mother had taught her. Don't lose your cool. Just win your battles with tact, and move on.

Ingrid said nothing.

"I'll take that as a complete confession, and a complete agreement," Maria said, satisfied that she had done well here; she hadn't raised her voice or cried, though she came close. A surgical, easy end to it all.

"Speaking for myself, and my husband, then, Miss Johansson, I'll say, 'goodbye'." Maria turned to leave when Ingrid finally spoke.

"I give him what he craves, and what he does not get from you, Maria."

The words stopped Maria in her tracks. Without turning around, she said in a cold voice, "I won't even go there. Just say it is over, and you won't be dragged through anything ugly."

"A man as sweet, good, and handsome as Dan," Ingrid said evenly, "should have the pleasures he seeks. And as long as he comes to me, I will give it to him if you will not."

Maria whirled and faced her, taking two steps that brought her within a few inches of the sweat-tinged blonde. "You--" she said, her teeth gritting together "will leave him alone! I thought we just agreed on that."

Ingrid, four inches taller than Maria, smiled menacingly at her. "He loves the way I suck him. You hardly ever go down on him, Maria. I know, he tells me." Her Scandinavian accent was soft, barely noticeable, but just evident enough to make Maria hate her even more.

Maria's mouth dropped in disbelief. "I cannot believe what I am hearing. And not that's it's any of your business, but I sucked my husband off just this Thursday night!"

Ingrid smirked. "That's because I told him to ask you for it. It was my request."

Maria tilted her head. "What?? What in the world do you mean it was your request?"

Ingrid almost giggled now. "When you sucked him off Thursday night, lovely Mrs. Foster, he had just left my apartment, where he had fucked me in the ass. Did his cock taste a little different to you that night?"

Maria's plan to be dignified and diplomatic crumbled in that one stunning statement from Ingrid. "You filthy bitch!" she cried, and, before she could even think about it, she swung and slapped the tall blonde. Ingrid stepped back and held her cheek, but she still had the remnants of a smirk on her face.

"That," Ingrid said slowly, "was stupid."

Maria stepped forward again, and her breasts brushed Ingrid's. "If you want it this way, you slut, then my lawyer and I will drag both of you through--

"--UGH!" Maria grunted in surprise and pain as Ingrid's fist slammed into her stomach.

"Don't you threaten me, woman!" Ingrid said through clenched teeth. "And don't strike me, either!" Ingrid immediately brought a right cross crashing against Maria's pretty chin, and the pretty wife tumbled backwards onto the grass.

She sat up quickly, rubbing her chin, mouth open in shock. She slid her purse off her shoulder. Amazed that the woman had hit her this hard, Maria scrambled to her feet, and charged the taller woman angrily, head down, arms flailing. One of her whirling fists beat down on Ingrid's 34d breasts, but the track coach quickly caught the smaller woman's wrists and pushed her back to arm's length. Maria, her pouty lips set in a snarl, kicked at Ingrid and caught her knee.

"Damn you!" she barked in frustration, unable to hit her while Ingrid held her arms in check.

Ingrid frowned as pain shot through her knee, and her calm Swedish face suddenly creased with anger and determination. She pulled Maria closer suddenly.

"Foolish bitch," she whispered hotly, her breath puffing against Maria's hair and blowing a few dark strands up. She yanked down hard on one of Maria's wrists, then twisted it deftly, spinning the petite latina into a painful armlock.

"Let go of me..." Maria panted, trying to jab backward with her free elbow. One caught Ingrid's rib, but failed to loosen her grip.

Ingrid clenched her teeth and wrapped up the brunette in a headlock, bringing her face to her bare ribs. Maria tried to bite her there, and Ingrid cursed in Swedish, then pumped her knee up into the slighter woman's tummy. With a sickening thud, Maria felt the air leave her and she went briefly limp. Ingrid let her drop to the ground, then quickly got behind her and clamped a bearhug on her as the darker girl sat wheezing. Maria felt panic shoot through her as she realized she was getting the worst of this unexpected encounter, and just as she moved to twist to her side Ingrid pulled her top up, reached around from behind, and clawed her breasts with her pale, bony fingers.

Maria shrieked, not even thinking who would hear, though the shadows were lengthening and the school was empty now.

Ingrid's face was near her ear. "He told me he likes to play with your nipples... like this..." she hissed at the stricken wife. She rolled the brown nipples in her fingers, then pinched hard.

"AGHHHHHhhhhstoppppp..." Maria whimpered, her body arching in Ingrid's persistent grip.

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