Isobel Ford glanced back and forth from her stopwatch to the runners coming around the final curve. She started calling the times out to her assistant, who's own gaze was darting back and forth from her notebook to the numbers pinned on each runner's chest as the members of the girl's track team thundered down on them.
For a moment, Isobel faltered, her attention drawn by the flashing long legs of the girl in the lead. Her long brunette hair, pulled into a ponytail, floated behind her in her speed. The abbreviated t-shirt rode up to show the flat belly under it. But it was the legs that held the team coach's attention, the legs she had been fantasizing about ever since she had realized the young woman had been making out with her equally feminine and attractive roommate in the back of the team bus one night.
She pulled her attention back to the stopwatch and mechanically called out the times as Pam Maguire raced by, followed by the others. Once the last girl crossed the finish line, Isobel blew her whistle and waved everyone over to her. For the next few minutes she discussed generalities and made some observations about how to improve performance and speed. She retrieved her notebook from her assistant and arranged for times to meet with each girl separately in her office.
The individual meetings were intended exactly for the publicly stated purpose. Isobel believed that any criticism should be specific, lead towards improvement, and be confidential. She always tried to avoid chewing someone out in front of others. Even praise should not be too fulsome, she believed, unless she could praise the entire team as a whole. Recognition of an event well run was, of course, deserving of immediate congratulations, but not excessive adulation.
Having said all that, Isobel admitted to herself that she did look forward to the one-on-one coaching sessions. Even though she was strictly professional during them, generally including any of her "special" girls, it was a naughty thrill to be alone in her office with each of her young athletes. All those young, firm bodies, usually dressed casually and revealingly, with tanned skin and sleek muscles, made her giddy. Isobel reminded herself firmly that "look but don't touch" was the watchword, at least during normal working hours. Never-the-less, she was looking forward to the next hour.
After the last girl had left the office, Isobel leaned back in the big leather covered chair behind her desk, closed her eyes and thought. The session had gone well. She felt she had accomplished a good bit. Lisette had been having trouble with her start and they thought they had discovered what was wrong.
As she relaxed, she was almost surprised to find her fingers stealing up the leg of her shorts. She grinned and raised her hips. No need to be coy. She unfastened her shorts and pushed them down her legs before sliding her hand inside her basic white cotton panties. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and let her imagination wander, even as her fingers started their familiar movements.
Isobel squirmed slightly as one, then two fingers dipped between her lips and curled inside her. The tip of her thumb crept under her hood and teased it to full wakefulness. Images passed though her mind like pictures. She saw several of the girls she had taken in this very office. Long slender legs that parted for her, tanned slim arms that tightened around her as she pinned them under her body. Sometimes she used her own body to make love to them, grinding her carefully shaven pussy against their young ones.
The callused ball of her thumb rubbed faster and faster on her swelling clit. A third finger added itself to the others plunging into her wetness. What she preferred though, was to take the tie-on harness with its plastic and rubber cock, fasten it around her and use it to fuck those young women. And right now, the image that she held fixed in her mind, was that of Pam Maguire. She could see the young athlete, perhaps on her hands and knees on the couch with her tight little ass in the air. Or stretched out with her legs open. Or... Isobel bolted upright and pulled her hand free from her shorts as a knock sounded on the door. She adjusted her clothing quickly and called "Come in.".
The face she had just been thinking about poked through her doorway. "Miss Ford, I'm sorry to bother you, but do you have a moment?"
"Of course I do Pam, come on in." Isobel considered swallowing as Pam complied. The young woman was wearing shower sandals, high cut blue cotton panties and a thin t-shirt that made it obvious there was nothing under it but Pam. Her hair, longer by a good bit than most of the girls cut theirs, hung around her shoulders, wet from the shower she must have just vacated. Droplets of water fell from it. Isobel suppressed another swallow as two drops fell onto the coed's breast, right where her nipple pressed against the now nearly see-through material.
Pam took only a few minutes with her errand, asking for a bit of extra advice on her starts and whether the coach thought she was breaking into her final sprint too early. During that time the runner stood with her legs spread comfortably apart. Isobel's eyes followed once when Pam seemed to absent-mindedly slide her hand down her side and adjust and readjust her panties. All the while she listened intently to Isobel's comments and seemed unaware of having any effect on her coach.
Was that or was that not invitation in those green eyes? Isobel, usually so confident in all her dealings with her students, peers and everyone else, found herself at a loss. It wasn't as though she hadn't seduced at least one willing girl every year since she had started this position. She knew the signs to look for to see if a young woman had a current or incipient interest in her own sex.
Pam baffled her for some reason. Isobel was absolutely without a doubt certain that Pam and her cheerleader roommate had been at least fingering each other one night in the back of the team bus. Other than that though, she saw no signs of any Sapphic interest on Pam's part. No quick looks at the other girls, no touches that were meant to seem accidental, not even the negative sign of always looking away when another girl was undressing.
Isobel had a thought. Maybe Pam and her roommate were in a relationship together. If so it was a pretty open one. The college rumor mill was always full of unfounded stories about everyone from the President down to the maintenance workers; but the very underground, very discreet and cautious whispers along the gay and lesbian pipeline had carried nothing about the young roommates. Apparently they were openly dating guys. If other females were involved it was extremely discreet.
Isobel heaved a sigh after Pam left. What WAS she going to do about that young woman? She hoped it wouldn't be too long before she found out.
The following Friday afternoon turned into was one of those days when nothing went right. Everyone was stumbling, running into each other and milling around. The workouts seemed stale and no one was profiting much by them. Isobel finally called everyone together and gave them the rest of the period off. As she suspected, the girls immediately scattered to the winds.
Isobel had returned to her office and was concentrating on the mounds of paperwork that seemed to accumulate all by itself. Thank god she didn't have to publish paper after paper as did most of the faculty. All she was expected to do was develop a winning woman's track team and even then the administration and the alumni would shrug, faintly smile and say "That's nice" before checking on how the football recruitment was going. Still, it was her job and she wanted to do it right.
Her concentration was broken by a repeated "thud" from the track area outside her windows. Curious, she got up, bent one of the blinds she habitually kept drawn and looked out. Pam had stayed and was practicing her hurdles. The sound was caused when she failed to clear one after another of the obstacles and they fell over. Isobel could see the frustration written on the girl's face. She tried again, creating even more havoc. In fact, just before she attempted the last two hurdles, she suddenly pulled up short and grimaced before hobbling to the side of the track.
Isobel was out of her office and down the hall before Pam even limped in the doorway. She wrapped an arm around the young runner and helped her to her office. Once there she had Pam sit down in the usual chair while she checked out, then confirmed, her suspicion.
"You've got a Charley-horse, Pam." Isobel massaged the affected calf. Her professionalism and concern for one of her athletes was in total control. Sexual thoughts were the farthest thing from her mind. She bore down and was rewarded when she felt the knotted muscles relax. She sat back on her heels and looked up at the coed.
"Much better, Miss Ford. Thank you." Pam beamed down at her coach.
Isobel rose and smiled. "You're welcome. Now then," her attitude turned brisk. "What were you still doing out there? I told everyone to take off."
"I just get frustrated when things don't go right. I have been kicking over more hurdles that I have been clearing. I can't decide, should I stay with this or go back to long distances? This is more exciting, but not if I can't master it."
.... There is more of this story ...