Coach Bob Porter was a science teacher at Fielding High School, home of the Fighting Pirates. He was also the coach of those fighting pirates, and he'd done a pretty good job of building up a credible team. Things had been going pretty well in the two years he'd been at Fielding. But now he sighed as he thought about what he'd agreed to. A bunch of the cheerleader's mothers had come to him all excited about having a powder puff football game during half time at the homecoming game. And he'd agreed.

As he thought about it, the reason he probably agreed was that it was Megan Miller's mother who pressed the idea. She was a tall blond woman with a huge set of knockers that she didn't mind showing off at all. She'd gotten into his personal space, with those beautiful breasts only an inch from his chest, with cleavage down to about her navel and he sort of lost track of what she was talking about. She smelled awful good too. The other two women with her were also stacked like brick shithouses and suddenly he found himself saying that it was a great idea.

Then, of course, because he was the coach, it was assumed that he'd coach the girls and make the whole event something that would become a tradition. All those giggling women and their jiggling flesh, pressing up against him, touching his arm, his shoulder...

Well, what could you expect? Bob was only thirty, which was younger than some of those women, but when you spent every spare waking hour trying to build a winning team, there wasn't much time left for what women liked to call 'relationships' nowadays. To say nothing of sex. He hadn't been laid in almost two years. So it was understandable that he was a little vulnerable to the good-looking-women-who-gush-all-over-you-and-want-a-favor syndrome.

Then, after the regular practice was over, and all the boys had hit the showers, he walked back out on the field to see a line of teenaged girls, asses high in the air, trying to do a three point stance. Their precious young boobies were hanging down and jiggling like their mother's tits as they all yelled "HUT ... HUT ... HUT"

Bob felt his penis start to stiffen and sighed. It was going to be a long three weeks until the game.

He blew his whistle and called the cheerleaders in to a huddle. They ran, laughing and jumping to crash into each other and him as they aped the boys' classic arms on shoulders huddle. They were gorgeous and they all knew it. Tiffany Walcott was right next to him in the huddle and was pressing her body against his. That didn't help his rising dick, since every time he saw her he remembered catching her and his star quarterback in the shower room after they thought everybody had left. He'd heard the water running and thought somebody left a shower on, but when he walked in there was Ted Hoskins, stark naked, with his youthful boner firmly planted in Tiff's puffed out shaved pussy. She was equally naked and he had her pinned to the wall. He was grunting and thrusting as the coach entered the room and said "What the hell?"

Both kids had looked over at him with astonishment on their faces. Ted had jumped back, which removed his amazingly stiff penis from Tiffany. That penis had been in the process of spurting sperm up in Tiffany's sweet little pussy and it now fired off rounds randomly as he backpedaled away from the girl. Tiffany, for her part, covered her breasts with her arms, but stood there spread legged as thick, white, quarterback cum spilled out of her cunt. Looking at her naked, Bob had understood immediately why Ted had been playing so hard lately.

Of course they'd begged him not to tell, and claimed it was the first time, and they just got carried away and on and on. His own teenage years not so far behind him had tipped the scales in their favor. He'd meant to find out if she was on the pill, but had forgotten as she pleaded her case, still naked.

And now, here she was next to him, saying she wanted to be the center for the squad. She acted like nothing had ever happened, and he tried to. But he'd beaten off at least a hundred times with that memory bright in his closed eyes. Of course he'd made sure that Ted got PLENTY of exercise on the practice field after that. He wanted that boy so tired he wouldn't even THINK of pussy.

He quieted the girls down and began making assignments. They were going to play the faculty in the game, and they wanted to win in the worst possible way, so they all agreed to come to practices faithfully, and learn the plays they'd use. He put a lot of stuff out there to weed out the ones who might want a reason to drop out. But none did. The only position he didn't have filled was quarterback. He needed to see the girls play first. If one of them had any talent, then she'd be reassigned to that position. Who cared, really? It was only going to be a twenty minute game, with no time outs.

And so it was that Bob decided to run them through the first few plays as their quarterback. The girls, of course, were still dressed in their cheerleader outfits, which consisted of spandex uppers, with short skirts that fell over what were, for all intents and purposes, panties. True, they were made of more spandex, and they were made to be seen occasionally as the girls twirled and jumped. But they were really just panties. White socks and saddle oxfords completed the outfit. They couldn't run well in them, but for the first practice it would be OK. They were only going to do walk-throughs of some of the plays.

He got them lined up on the ball and showed Tiffany how to grab the ball and snap it. "Just slam it into my hand." he said. They all got down into their three point stances, asses high again. Bob looked left and right, out of habit and then approached his center. Without thinking he flipped up the towel that was hanging down behind the center.

Except it wasn't a towel. It was Tiffany's skirt.

"COACH PORTER!" 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, Suzie Thurman 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 Adams, 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 Thurman, Suzie'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 "PORTER'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 Bob 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.

"PORTER'S pirates?" he said. "Why PORTER'S?"

"No, PI - RETTES. You know, like Rock-ettes. It's a play on words ... that they're girls?..."

"I understand that part, Mrs. Thurman. Why did you use MY name?"

"Oh!" she laughed. "They're YOUR team, coach Porter. 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.