Volleyball Girls
Copyright© 2026 by TheDarkKnight
Chapter 6: Spring Break
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 6: Spring Break - I wasn't athletic enough to play on any teams in high school, but I wanted to participate by being a volunteer equipment manager, maybe for the football or basketball team. When I asked our athletic director, he told me the team that really needed help was the girls' volleyball team. When I seemed reluctant, he said two words that convinced me, "Volleyball shorts."
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft mt/Fa Mult Consensual Romantic Lesbian Heterosexual School Anal Sex First Massage Masturbation Oral Sex Voyeurism Leg Fetish Teacher/Student
Practice that day was a little more light-hearted and relaxed than usual. We had a game the next day, then it was Spring Break, a week with no classes or games. After practice ended, Carol gathered the team and started giving them one of her pep talks. I stopped to listen, in my role as assistant coach.
“All right, ladies,” she began, “this has been a great season so far. Lakewood shouldn’t be a challenge for us tomorrow, but let’s not forget what happened when we got overconfident. Let’s try to make it another three-set win.” She paused, then continued, “As I’m sure you’re all aware, next week is Spring Break.” She paused again, as several players laughed. Of course, everyone knew about one of the highlights of the academic year. “So, no practices until after the break. I don’t want you to even think about volleyball, but be careful. Don’t do anything stupid and injure yourself. I want everybody to come back with your bodies intact.”
Maybe it was my imagination, but when I saw her staring at Becky when she said that part, about “bodies intact”, I wondered if Carol might have been talking about Becky’s hymen? I hoped I was just being paranoid.
I packed up our equipment and headed for the storage area we shared with other teams. Becky sometimes helped me with that chore, because the posts that supported the nets could be a little tricky to handle, but this time she wasn’t around. I figured she would be waiting for me in the parking lot, but when I came back to the gym, I saw her talking with Carol. That wasn’t normal; usually when Carol had something to say to an individual player, she met with them in her office. Becky saw me and quickly looked away, so I knew what the conversation was about - me. That was confirmed when Carol hugged Becky, and my rider headed out of the gym without looking at me.
Carol sure did. She glared and said, “We need to talk.”
That’s a line that is never followed by good news. When we got to her office, she motioned for me to close the door, then sat down behind her desk. I was waiting for her to lecture me and was already forming my defense, pointing out that she was Becky’s coach, not her mother, and that what I did with anyone on the team was my business. A lot of girls on the team had boyfriends, and more than one didn’t hide the fact that they were having sex. Why were Becky and I different? I knew Carol was still recovering from losing a player to pregnancy, so maybe that made her more sensitive. And I thought there might be a bit of jealousy involved. If anybody was going to have sex with me, I think Carol assumed it should be her. Making love to both of them would have been great, but that was just a teenage fantasy.
“You’ve been taking Becky home?” she asked, which was strange, because she knew I was.
“Yeah, saves her long walks or bus rides.”
“And you’ve been helping her with math?”
“Uh-huh. I’m doing a good job. She got an ‘A’ on her midterm.”
“So, is that why she wants to reward you with her virginity?”
Okay, there it was at last. “You make it sound like a transaction. We love each other, coach,” I said. It felt a bit strange to hear those words coming out of my mouth. I wasn’t sure I meant it, but it seemed like the right thing to say at the time.
Carol sighed, then said, “Look, as a teacher and coach, I feel a responsibility to help my students and players when I can, but I don’t have the power or right to tell either of you what to do. I think it’s important for you to remember how old she is. Hell, I’ve heard of guys your age getting arrested for having sex with fifteen-year-old girls. That’s called statutory rape. But if you decide to go ahead anyway, I just want you to be careful. The first time for a girl can be life-changing. It’s a moment she’ll never forget, but not always in a good way. I lost my virginity when I was sixteen. I thought the guy loved me, and I know I loved him, but after we did it, in the backseat of his dad’s minivan, for Christ’s sake, I realized I was just another notch in his belt, something to brag about to his friends.”
“Do you really think I’m one of those guys, Carol?”
She smiled at last. “I’ve always thought you were one of the good guys, Alex, but after what happened on the bus, and now this, I’m not sure. You’re a very attractive young man. All the girls like you. Couldn’t you set your sights on someone your age?”
“I didn’t mean to seduce Becky, coach. It just happened after we started spending time together.”
“All right, I’ve said my piece. Just promise you won’t hurt her, physically or emotionally. I still have scars on my heart from what happened to me.”
I had no idea how to respond to that. I got up and headed for the door, then Carol said, “One more thing before you leave. What are you doing over Spring break? You going to be hanging out with Becky?”
“No, she and her mother are going to North Carolina to visit her grandparents. I’m not doing anything special, probably just gonna do what I usually do on break: sleep late, read some books I’ve been wanting to get around to, maybe hang out with some of my friends and play video games. Just another action-packed chapter in the epic adventure that is my life.”
“Oh, poor baby. You make it sound horrible, but to me, that sounds like a great vacation, probably better than mine. I’m going to be spending part of my time off painting some of the rooms in my house. So, since you’re not too busy, would you like to help me?”
Hmm, time alone at home with Carol? I remembered what she had told me about that being a much better place for serious love-making than her office, which made me wonder if “painting” was the only thing she wanted my help with. Either way, I was in. “Sure, when do we start?” I asked.
“How about nine o’clock Monday morning?”
“Sounds good.”
“Okay, we’ll see you then,” Carol said.
I was looking forward to spending time with Carol, but I was bothered by one thing. She had said, “We’ll see you then.” Who the heck was “we”? Did she have a boyfriend I didn’t know about? That would change things, and not in a good way, but I was committed. Monday morning, instead of sleeping late, I was knocking on Carol’s door at nine o’clock sharp, dressed in jeans that were already stained and an old t-shirt. I was ready to paint, and still hoping there would be a proper ‘reward’ for my efforts when we finished if the mysterious other person wasn’t going to be a problem.
When Carol opened the door, she was wearing very short cutoff jeans, which displayed her very attractive legs. She smiled and said, “Come on in, Alex.” When she turned around and I followed her inside, I even caught a hint of buttcheek.
Her blonde locks were covered by a bandana, giving her kind of a gypsy look, not that I actually knew what a gypsy woman should look like.
When we got to her kitchen, I saw a couple of ladders already set up, along with some sheets that looked like they could be used as drop clothes. “Like a cup of coffee before we start?” she asked.
“Sure.” I had only been drinking coffee for a few months, but the caffeine bug was already embedded within my nervous system. She already had a full pot on the warmer. She got three mugs out of her cabinet and started filling them. Three? That meant she hadn’t made a mistake when she said ‘we’.
“Nice house,” I said.
“Not bad on a teacher’s salary,” she replied. “My dad helped me with some of the repairs when I moved in, but he’s seventy and doesn’t trust his balance enough to get on ladders. I forgot to ask, how much experience do you have as a housepainter?”
“I helped my dad do the inside of our house a couple years ago. All I remember is that the hardest parts are preparing and cleaning up.”
I heard a toilet flush from down the hall, and a moment later, Faith Morgan walked in. Faith was the women’s basketball coach, the one who shared an office with Carol. I felt a little better. At least the third person wasn’t the secret boyfriend I had feared might be there.
“Alex, you know Faith, right?” Carol asked.
“Sure,” I said. “How are you, Miss Morgan?”
“Ohh, he really is a gentleman,” Faith told Carol. “Alex, as long as we’re working together, you can call me Faith.”
I’d never had Miss Morgan as a teacher. She taught Art, something I had no ability or interest in. She looked like an adult version of Carla, with the same wide shoulders and full hips. Instead of Carla’s golden locks, Faith had long, reddish-orange, very wavy tresses. She called it her ‘wild woman hair’. Around school, she let it flow freely, sometimes even hanging partly over her face, but this morning she had somehow twisted it into a bun, tucked under a bandana like Carol’s.
For a while there had been rumors around school that she was gay, but last year one of my friends had done some digging and found out that she was twice divorced, so then the story changed to her being a bitch to live with. I’d seen her in action at a few of the girls’ basketball games, and had been impressed, if not actually frightened, by her demeanor when she got riled up. I was sure there were some referees in the area who hated being assigned to her games. Wild woman, indeed.
“So, let’s get busy, okay?” Carol said.
The next couple of hours were indeed busy. We let Carol take charge, since it was her house. The hardest thing I had to do was pull the refrigerator and stove away from the wall and paint behind them. When I finished, I saw Faith on a ladder, finishing up the wall over the sinks. Carol was on all fours, painting the wainscoting along the bottom of one of the walls. Her ass and legs looked amazing in those very-short cut-offs, and I took a moment to enjoy the view. She had a bottom as nice as most of the girls on the team. I should know, I was becoming a connoisseur of that part of the female anatomy.
When Faith saw me, she smiled and said, “Enjoying the view?”
“Very much so,” I told her. There had been enough lighthearted banter between the three of us while we were working that I felt like we were friends now, so I felt okay admitting my ogling. When you’re caught staring at an attractive woman, I figured the best defense was a guilty plea.
“That’s nice to hear,” Carol said. “Sometimes I feel like I’m too old to attract a man anymore, especially when I’m around teenage girls.”
“Oh, you definitely have my attention,” I told her, which earned me a smile.
When we finished, Carol went to her dining room and looked back into the kitchen. “Hey guys,” she said, “come take a look.”
Faith and I stood next to her, admiring the result of our efforts, and it really was nice. Carol had chosen a bright yellow color for the walls, with light blue trim. It worked, somehow making her kitchen look warmer and more inviting.
“Wow,” was all I could say.
“Yeah,” Faith echoed.
“I wasn’t sure how the trim would work, but I love it,” Carol said. “Let’s take a break, then do the dining room. It should be easier and quicker.”
The break consisted of more coffee and some doughnuts Faith had brought. The combination of a caffeine jolt and a sugar rush was all we needed to finish Carol’s dining room faster than a politician running from reporters.
While we were cleaning up, Carol ordered a pizza. The women took turns scrubbing the paint off their arms, and in Faith’s case, a little smudge on her cheek. I apparently had been the sloppiest painter, with several splotches of yellow and blue on my clothes, arms, and hands, and even a little in my hair. I had also done most of the hard work, and had worked up quite a sweat, bad enough that I could smell myself. I wasn’t the only one who noticed.
“Why don’t you take a shower before the pizza gets here, Alex?” Carol suggested.
“Good idea, I do smell like I’ve been rolling in a pigsty, but I don’t have any clean clothes to put on.”
“No prob,” she said. “My dad left some stuff here when he was helping me. I’m sure I can find something that fits. You can use the shower in my bedroom; it’s a little cleaner than the one in the guest room. After you take your clothes off, just toss them out, and I’ll wash them for you.”
It felt both exciting and strange to be in Carol’s bathroom. I started the water running, quickly stripped, then wrapped myself in a towel, while I tossed my stinky clothes out.